In its seemingly never-ending quest to belittle U.S. Sen. Larry Craig, the Idaho Statesman recently ran a long story about two “homosexuals” who went to the University of Idaho at the same time he did and suffered significantly more because their proclivity for the same sex was discovered.

One, Chris Smith, an outstanding newspaper editor and political consultant, came out of the closet after graduating and, despite a glowing resume of success, was unable to get work in Idaho as a result. The other, Ray McDonald, an All America football player, never came out publicly, but had his professional career ruined by persistent rumors of his homosexuality. He died in his late 40s of AIDS related causes, according to the Statesman.

As it happens, I knew Ray McDonald and the guy who accused him of rape and started his decline to oblivion. We all lived on the second floor of Shoup Hall, a small three-story dormitory since converted into a Theater Arts classroom building. Ray, a sophomore, lived in one of the three single rooms. My roommate and I lived in a room directly across the hall from the showers. The accuser, whose name I honestly can’t remember, lived two doors down from me.

He was from Salt Lake City. He drove a gorgeous white MG TC sports car in near perfect condition. His roommate, also from Salt Lake, drove an equally impressive black Alpha Romeo roadster. One winter’s night when the mercury dipped well below zero, they pushed the furniture in the main-floor lounge to the walls and drove their cars in for protection from the weather.

Most evenings these guys wandered up and down the second floor hallway engaging people in idle conversations. If you went to the bathroom while studying and failed to close your door firmly, one or the other would usually slide in and be reclining on your bed waiting to chat when you returned.

They also enjoyed turning the shower into a steam room. The shower room at Shoup Hall was made up of a small anti room with wooden benches on each side and hooks on the wall for robes and towels. The shower itself was a large, maybe eight-by-eight-foot room immediately beyond it with six showerheads, two on each of the three walls. By turning all the showers on full hot, it was possible to create a cloud of steam in the anti room where they would sit on the wooden benches and, well, “steam”.

Most nights they were the only participants, although others did occasionally join them. I never saw Ray McDonald at one of these steam baths and am confident he never participated. Neither did I. I knew what was going on because my room was directly across the hall and the steam parties always involved lots of yelling and running around the halls.

McDonald was seldom seen in the hall. He was usually studying with his tutors in his room or at the library when not attending football workouts and practices. Once I had a casual conversation with him while we ironed our clothes in the ironing room. He was gracious, humorous and somewhat self-effacing. A good guy to talk and laugh with.

Occasionally he would watch television in the basement recreation room. People didn’t like to sit beside him on the couch, myself included, because he was constantly slapping his hand on your knee or putting his arm around your shoulders for a brief hug when something funny or exciting happened on the television show.

I never sensed any sexual meaning in them, but the squeezes and hugs were very annoying. Others in the hall started talking about him being “queer” – the still acceptable street slang for homosexuals. It became a running joke, which, I am ashamed to say, I participated in.

The night everything came to a head, so to speak, I was in my room studying and one of Salt Lake guys was taking a steam by himself across the hall. His roommate had gone home for the weekend. They never seemed to lack money for airline tickets and fine clothes.

At around midnight, the steamer was in the hall shouting that he had been raped by McDonald. He said he had gone to sleep on one of the benches in the anti room and Ray had come into the shower room and raped him. I remember thinking at the time that the story sounded fishy. McDonald was nowhere to be seen and the guy had apparently made no protest while the alleged rape was in progress.

He was not an especially attractive man. He was small, about 5’6”, and his face was pinched with close-set eyes and densely packed with brownish freckles. His roommate was about the same size and considerably better looking with doe eyes and black well groomed hair.

When I asked him why he didn’t say or do anything before or during the alleged rape, he said, “What would you do if you had 250 pounds of muscle on top of you?” I said I would at least yell for help to which he sneered, “Yea, I bet you would.”

The thing is, I couldn’t imagine Ray McDonald assaulting anyone, sexually or otherwise. He was one of the most instinctively gentle people I had ever met. In addition, I was so naïve at the time that I didn’t believe there was such a thing as homosexuality. I thought it was something guys talked about just to gross people out. Honestly, that’s what I believed.

With the aid of considerable hindsight I have come to believe McDonald was probably entrapped. Although his accuser complained bitterly and constantly that he was treated unfairly by the university and its athletic department, he and his roommate departed Idaho a month or so after the incident several thousand dollars richer. He never said how many thousand, maybe it was a condition of the settlement, but he did say he didn’t have to worry about college anymore.

McDonald moved off campus to an undisclosed location. He continued to play fullback on the football team and was named to both the preseason and postseason All America teams of every major sports publication. In his senior year against the University of Washington he gained more yards than the entire UCLA team did against the Huskies one week later.

On the street, however, McDonald was recognized more for his rumored homosexuality than his football prowess. “I hear you’ve got an All America queer over there, a Washington State University fraternity brother said when we all met in the pub one night.

My roommate and I joined a fraternity in the second semester of our freshman year. When the news got out, McDonald good-naturedly taped a sign on our door reading “Fratte Rattes”. He apparently suffered from a severe case of Dyslexia, a not yet recognized learning disability that transposes letters and seriously affects the ability to read and spell.

McDonald worked extremely hard to overcome his learning disability, I learned later from a guy in my fraternity who had tutored him in math and science. All athletes in major sports were offered tutors by the athletic department, but few took advantage of the service as much as McDonald, who, I am told, graduated in four years. According to the Statesman, he later attended graduate school.

Like Larry Craig, who persistently denies being gay despite mounting evidence to the contrary dug up by the Idaho Statesman, I don’t think Ray McDonald believed in homosexuality. He likely thought it was a temptation to be fought and overcome, like being attracted to young girls.

Had society accepted homosexuality on the same basis that it accepts heterosexuality and let people live the lives they have been given with dignity and respect, Ray McDonald would likely have been an All Pro running back instead of an NFL dropout. Larry Craig would be running for the Senate again this November and Chris Smith would likely be working for his opponent.

Simple acceptance of people as they are. It seems little to expect from society to save what should have been three very productive lives.

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