Better living here in Allentown: Steve Black and other local activists shepherd the passage of antidiscrimination protections in the heart of blue-collar America. (Behind the Headlines).

Allentown, Pa., is known as a hard-scrabble conservative steel town of 105,000, so it was somewhat surprising when the city council in April banned discrimination in employment and housing based on both sexual orientation and gender identity. The victory was the result of the work of the Pennsylvania Gay and Lesbian Alliance for Political Action. Formed to represent the Lehigh Valley, it has had an increased presence in the city ever since 1998, when it began working to elect a pro-gay mayor and city council. The Advocate spoke to Steve Black, who leads the alliance along with Elizabeth Bradbury. The 36-year-old Black--who works at the family--owned Black's Luncheonette in Pen Argyl, a town of 3,000 located half an hour north of Allentown--discussed life in Pennsylvania, family politics, and a late-breaking attempt to repeal the gay rights law.

Tell me about Allentown.

It was once a blue-collar steel town with a reputation for social conservatism. It had a very conservative city council. But the demographics of cities change. We helped to elect a new mayor who [is supportive of gay rights] and a lesbian member of the city council. And we also helped to elect a Latino member who is progressive.

How did you get involved in gay politics?

I've been involved in Democratic politics since I was a teenager. When I came out about 12 years ago, it was a natural step to get involved in gay politics too. At the time, there was almost no organizing in the Lehigh Valley gay and lesbian community.

There was some very dramatic testimony in favor of the new protections. The daughter of a police officer who was gunned down in the line of duty spoke out about the fear she faces both as a lesbian and as the daughter of a crime victim.

The president of the city council, a man who used to be the police chief, was very moved by that testimony. He could really identify with her and see the connection.

What's it like working for such a controversial cause from your family diner?

Pen Argyl is a basically an all-white town with, as people always point out, more churches than bars. I've worked here since I was 14, doing a bit of everything--cooking, waiting tables. We're open from 6 in the morning to 9 at night, so it's a lot of work. The great thing is that I can use the slow times here for my political work. I can just sit down at my computer and get some stuff done. The alliance relies on a core group of about eight and another group of about 30 who show up when we need to stuff envelopes or whatever.

How do the locals treat you?

Everybody knows everybody. They have watched me grow up in the diner. They knew my grandparents. Small-town people tend to be very polite, so I'm treated fine. I don't know what they say behind my back.

Are you now going to take up the banner in Pen Argyl?

There are so many small towns in the state, like Pen Argyl, that you can't get gay rights ordinances in every one of them. So it's very important to have statewide measures. We are focusing on hate-crimes legislation in [the state capital of] Harrisburg right now, and then we will move on to gay rights legislation.

How do your parents feel about your work?

My parents are OK with it, but I can't really say anything more than that.

What's your strategy to turn back the repeal movement?

It's basically one person, Frank McVeigh. When we tried to pass the bill in 1998, he was the main opponent. It's a personal cause with him. He has to collect 2,000 signatures. We're going to send people out to the polling booths to encourage people not to sign the petitions. If that fails, we'll go to the courts. We'll fight him off one way or another.