Salvation Army fatigue: in less than a year's time, the charitable group has faced both scorn for its antigay policies and glory for its recovery work. As with the Boy Scouts, it's the scorn that may endure. (Far Right).

Until 2001, for most people, mention of the Salvation Army conjured up warm images of volunteers ringing bells during the winter holidays and workers dispensing clothing and food to the poor. But during the past year the group became the latest venerated all-American institution to find itself at the center of the fight for gay rights. And on this issue, the evangelical charitable organization appeared far from benevolent.

"We learned a lot about these kinds of `mom and apple pie' nonprofits [in 2001]," says Harold S. Levine, a New York consultant who has worked with numerous gay and mainstream charities. "We've learned that a number of organizations, including the Salvation Army, are glad to take our money but actively discriminate against us."

It was a lesson already known to gay activists in San Francisco, where the organization had given up a $3.5 million contract in 1998 rather than comply with a law requiring city-funded groups to provide domestic-partner benefits for employees. It wasn't until July, however, that the Salvation Army's steadfastly antigay policies first got national exposure, when a memo surfaced that outlined a secret deal with the White House to give the organization--and other religious nonprofits--immunity from state and local laws banning antigay discrimination or mandating "equal benefits to domestic partnership." In exchange, the Salvation Army promised lobbying support for President George Bush's proposed faith-based initiative, which would funnel federal funds to religious charities. Once the memo was made public, the White House quickly backpedaled and said it would not consider the exemption.

Controversy over the secret deal dogged the Salvation Army throughout the summer, but the charity's highly visible mobilization in response to the September 11 terrorist attacks gave the organization a virtual clean slate. Scores of Salvation Army workers and volunteers joined the rescue and cleanup efforts at New York City's ground zero and the other crash sites, so the charity appeared at the crest of the wave of national unity that followed the attacks. Then in early November the organization's Western territory, which represents 13 states, opted to extend health care benefits to the partners of its unmarried employees, including gays and lesbians, which would have put the San Francisco fight behind it.

But for fight-wing backers of the charity, the atmosphere of national unity had its limits. Conservative groups Focus on the Family, the Family Research Council, and others pressured the Salvation Army's national leaders to rescind the renegade Western territory's domestic-partner benefits. In striking down the benefits policy only 11 days after it was announced, the national office claimed it was merely responding to "internal and external constituencies" and confirming "adherence to biblical principles concerning marriage and the family," according to spokeswoman Theresa Whitfield. "Our policy is not and never has been designed to target gays," she insisted.

The renewed tension between the Salvation Army's expressions of charity and its determination to discriminate against gay people echoes activists' vocal objections earlier in 2001 to Bush's faith-based initiative. Although the Salvation Army's Web site claims that its services are offered "to meet human needs in [Jesus'] name without discrimination," Lorri Jean, executive director of the National Gay and Lesbian Task Force, says she has had difficulty arranging a meeting with the charity's leaders to discuss her concerns.

"We're particularly worried about vulnerable members of our community in need of medical care, food, shelter--things the Salvation Army provides that may be subject to rank bigotry," she says.

It's hard to tell whether that bigotry, real or perceived, has had a bottom-line impact on the organization. Although Salvation Army officials say it's possible that donations may be off slightly for the year (final fund-raising figures won't be available until January), they attribute any decreases to the cooling economy. But behind this calm public veneer, organization officials were worried enough about public response to recent controversies that they commissioned a damage-control survey and presented the study's results during a November public relations seminar held in Minneapolis, according to one person in attendance.

The survey of 1,001 U.S. adults showed minimal awareness of the Salvation Army's employment practices and its involvement with the faith-based initiative. Some, however, had a negative response to the group once told of its discriminatory policies.

Such polling data suggests that the Salvation Army may have joined a growing list of once-revered organizations--like the Boy Scouts of America--whose altruistic missions have now been inexorably eclipsed by questions about their antigay policies and their close connections to the far right. "With the Boy Scouts, for the most part, momentum built up over time with non-gay-identified organizations like the United Way, school districts, corporations, and other charities taking up opposition to the Boy Scouts' policies," says David Smith, communications director for the Human Rights Campaign, a national gay rights advocacy organization. "I believe the same thing will eventually happen with the Salvation Army, and it will percolate the same way across the country and create a potent backlash."

That backlash is already apparent among some gay service groups and gays and lesbians who had been supporters of the charity. Several local chapters of Parents, Families, and Friends of Lesbians and Gays--led by the Genesee County, Mich., chapter--responded to the Salvation Army's holiday-season fund-raising efforts with a project protesting the group's policies. Instead of donating money, PFLAG members dropped bill-shaped notices in collection kettles that stated, "I would have donated $5, but the Salvation Anny's decision to discriminate against gay and lesbian employees prevents my donation now and in the future .... Change your discriminatory policy." Basic Rights Oregon, a gay advocacy group based in Portland, staged a similar protest, using fake bills, in the denomination of $3, that were dropped into Salvation Army buckets.

Richard Virgilio, from the township of Denville, N.J., regularly contributed upward of $500 a year to the Salvation Army along with his partner but says he will never donate to the organization again. "When my partner and I heard the news, we looked and each other and kind of grimaced," he said. "We felt very bad about it because we had given the Salvation Army so much money over the years. And it turns out we were actually feeding the fire."

Find links to sites that are organizing protests against the Salvation Army at www.advocate.com