Laurence Luckinbill remembers his "Boys in the Band" costar Peter White

Lucie Arnaz Luckinbill, wife of actor Laurence Luckinbill, shared this on her Facebook page:

Palm Springs, Ca. 92264

5 November, 2023

Peter White has passed.  "Gone To Glory," as we used to say in Arkansas.

Long ago, we were brothers in a true "Band Of Brothers" of the theater.  We were actors in the original cast of The Boys In The Band, the play that unlocked the door of the "Closet," and turned the ignition key that started the motor of the mighty engine that is now the Gay Revolution.  Stonewall, and the fighting was yet to begin--but the human foundation had been laid for gays.  

ALaurence Luckinbill

Palm Springs, Ca. 92264

5 November, 2023

Peter White has passed.  "Gone To Glory," as we used to say in Arkansas.

Long ago, we were brothers in a true "Band Of Brothers" of the theater.  We were actors in the original cast of The Boys In The Band, the play that unlocked the door of the "Closet," and turned the ignition key that started the motor of the mighty engine that is now the Gay Revolution.  Stonewall, and the fighting was yet to begin--but the human foundation had been laid for gays.  

Peter was a private man.  Quiet, kind, preppy, always well turned out.  He said things like, "Jeezmaknees!" when he was surprised, delighted, or just pointing out something fun or unusual. 

He perfectly embodied "Alan," the character in the play who is the enigma.  Berated By Emory (the gayest of the gay), and by Michael, his increasingly hostile college friend, who is trying to break him into admitting that he, too, is gay, Alan resists, fights back, and reveals his hatred of gays, and more revelatory, his fear of gayness.

Peter was brilliant in the role and also at maintaining his own private life as truly private. 

We were blessed by the play to be acquaintances for life--and by time (three years of commitment to the play and film) to be friends--respecting each other in our work, our lives, and content with that professional and respectful connection.

But the experience of being on the front line of a play that broke the rules of how Broadway and Hollywood had decreed how gayness would be portrayed--as clowns or self-abnegating unnatural humans, brought us all together like soldiers in a war that had to be won.

Agents, producers, directors, actors--even gay ones--backed away fast from tainting themselves with a sure career-wrecking move.  We stood fast--all of us.

I called us "The homosexual Home Of The Brave," referring to the World War Two film that featured one member of each ethnicity then singled-out for prejudice in the United States (there are many more categories now as we grow up and face our real heritage).  The story was, fighting the war brought them into the same foxhole, putting aside their individual tribal identities to stand proud as Americans.  We were the Technicolor version of that story.  

I was one of two straight men playing a gay man.  "Assuming the position," I joked.  Cliff Gorman was the other.

But all of us had been warned that participation in this scandalous event would destroy what careers we had been able to scrabble up in New York theater.  

We all had something to lose when we showed up for the first workshop of the play in the Vandam theater--waaay downtown--we understood the rules.  We would not be paid for the two week's work--there would be no media review of the result, and zero publicity.  

But something happened...that "Theater Thing"--the deepest soul-belief in true actors--that the work is all--and die trying.  We were all willing to dare the elite gods and hope.  "The play's the thing--to catch the conscience of the king!"  (Hamlet, by you know who).

And we did! 

The play was a huge hit--eventually--ran 1000 performances and gave film director Billy Friedkin a chance to show his own daring, courage and skill. 

Peter and I were the squares of the company.  I was married and went home at night.  Peter, too, was not a part of the swashbuckling behavior of others in the company, who went out almost every night seeking... love?...certainly its venal side. This was in the years just before HIV came to town dressed as one of the Four Horsemen Of The Apocalypse to decimate the world, beginning with gay men.

All of our original soldiers are gone.  Not just the actors, but the director, the producers, all of the crew.

I have been hailed as a hero for taking on a challenge as a straight man that I didn't need.  The truth is the opposite.  It gave a turbo lift to my life as an actor.

The real heroes are the gay men who outed themselves to play their parts in the revolution. 

Our company was applauded as "the best acting company in New York."  Stellar--as a group.

Peter and I survived.  Now he, too, has moved on. I cried when my wife Lucie read the online notice that Peter had packed his actor's ditty bag and hailed that last cab to another rehearsal--out of town.

I'm still here, Peter.  Our "acquaintance" was deep.  It was friendship.  it has outlasted your presence.  I will remember.

Stick with it, "Boy."  Talent and courage are honored in that heavenly theater where you are.

I salute you!