Bingo Boy, Jeffery Bowman, calls out to A&U’s Dann Dulin about prevention through bingo, recently losing a friend, and adopting AIDS orphans.

Need to shave your balls?”

What did he say? Did he really?! Yep, he did. But it’s only a line from the movie, Orgasmo, where the first view of Jeffery Bowman is a close up of his butt. He portrays a porn star who casually offers his costar (played by Trey Parker, one of the creators of South Park) a razor to, er, prepare for the shoot (no pun intended).

Currently, Bowman has other balls on his mind: Bingo balls. In L.A., and now Palm Springs, Bowman is known as Bingo Boy, the emcee of Weekly Legendary Bingo, cohosted by The Fabulous Belle Aire. Bowman created the fundraiser over seven years ago. Each event benefits a different charity. Recipients have included AIDS Project Los Angeles, Project Angel Food, Bienestar, AIDS Lifecycle, and Caring For Babies With AIDS. Recently, he held a bingo fundraiser for the American Red Cross to aid the victims of Hurricanes Katrina and Rita. Past celebrity ballcallers have been Jean Smart, Brad Garrett, Nia Vardolos, Kathy Najimy [A&U, August 1994], Jeff Probst [A&U, August 2003], Beth Broderick [A&U, March 2001], Hal Sparks [A&U, March 2002], and Lorna Luft [A&U, December 1999]. Some nights have a theme, for instance, The Exorcist meets The Birds, when the ballcallers were Linda Blair and Tippi Hedren. These bingo events have raised over $700,000.

Born in 1960 and raised in Orange County, California, Bowman began fundraising while attending college. His first event, benefiting a battered women’s shelter, was organized while he worked the graveyard shift at Denny’s restaurant. Along with the Weekly Legendary Bingo, Jeffery conducts seminars and workshops, produces shows, and writes. In 1995, in a mere five weeks, he penned Diva: The Totally Unauthorized Biography of Whitney Houston. Presently he is tweaking his new project, Lovelace: The Musical, a show about porn queen Linda Lovelace. Bowman wrote the book and lyrics, and it will hit the Los Angeles stage in mid-2006. Several years ago, he was a publicist for Hollywood Squares, a fertile ground for corralling celebs for bingo.

I catch up with Bingo Boy one late afternoon at a small café in West Hollywood. The youthful lad is dressed in holey blue jeans and navy blue T-shirt, and sports a tattoo on his upper arm that reads (what else?) “Bingo Boy.” Jeffery is spirited, energetic, and glowing with enthusiasm. If charity work puts him in this frame of mind, I think I best be doing more.

In the eighties, Bowman tells me, he worked several jobs that landed him at ground zero of the AIDS crisis. He was manager of a gay bar, Revolver, worked as a patient advocate for a pharmacy, and served as community events coordinator for AIDS Project Los Angeles. “I don’t think I can count how many people I knew who died,” he says, taking a sip of water. “I just lost a friend the other day.” This brings to mind others he’s lost, and Jeffery reminisces about the Revolver. “All of us employees had a rule. Nobody could ask, ‘Where is so-and-so?’ because we didn’t want to know the answer. It got to the point where  my friends and I sounded like World War I vets counting the people we lost. We shouldn’t be having this conversation, I thought. It’s not natural. It should never be natural. At seventy-something, my dad is just now losing his friends. I lost mine in my twenties!” he declares, tossing his arms to the wind.

So many deaths occurred in so short a span of time that Jeffery became numb. “I wondered when it was going to happen to me. I always thought I must be infected, but I never was. I guess that wasn’t my journey.” He looks out on Santa Monica Boulevard at the passersby and his expression changes. “I get angry when I lose someone, especially the friend I recently lost. He was in his twenties.

He did drugs and alcohol. He had the [prevention] information. In my opinion, he was slowly committing suicide. I’m not trying to sound callous,” he empathizes. “It was horrible. He was a wonderful person but I think he was put here on this earth to do this for some reason, and this was his time. I think that through someone’s death, a lot of times, it helps the people around them. Maybe they need to learn something.” I share with him my experience with the death of my friend’s partner, whom I had never met. At his memorial, I met some of the deceased’s friends who later became dear friends of mine.

Bowman confronts his grief by focusing his life’s passion for helping others. Finding the source of his motivation is “such a hard question for me to answer because I don’t think it’s on a conscious level,” he says. “I don’t think I ever had any choice. I’m not trying to be spiritual, but I think that’s why I’m here. I believe there are two reasons we are here on this earth: one, to help people, and the other, to show your creativity. What happens when you mix the two is that you add to the world. So, when you go, you’ve left something behind instead of taking it away. When I get up in the morning, I say ‘Thank you’ for letting me do all of this,” says Jeffery, and immediately adds, with eyes darted upward. “Oh, I sound so like Marianne Williamson!” Chuckling, he shakes his head. Bowman’s inspiration was his grandfather, a Baptist minister, who was more spiritual than bible-thumping.

The high rates of HIV infection among young people concerns Bowman. “I think a lot of the AIDS campaigns are confusing. We need to address this because the kids are not getting it. My bingo game is an evening of fundraising and it’s in a fun place,” he explains. “The hottest guys in West Hollywood come to this stupid Bingo night. They look like the Abercrombie and Fitch catalogue. When they first come they’re still hanging onto attitude.” Bingo Boy strikes an arrogant pose. We laugh, and he continues. “After that, they start loosening up, and that’s because they’re not hanging out in a club, or cruising. It’s a whole new experience. The environment is a mix of women, straight people, and older people, too—who are all there to play bingo!”

Jeffery ponders for a moment, as he drinks his decaf. “I think the key to reaching the younger [gay] generation is to get them out of the mentality of cruising, looks, and music. That brings on crystal [meth] and alcohol. Take the person and put them in another [healthier] reality. We have to expand their consciousness [beyond] just ‘me and fucking.’ Being at Bingo provides a caring environment that represents family,” he points out. “It’s not about wearing a rubber. It’s about community and a sense of self.”

Time is drawing near for Bingo Boy to leave, but before he does he brings up the subject of Africa. “America is not doing enough,” he charges, tapping his fingers on his coffee mug. “I interviewed a woman who used to work at AIDS Service Center. She had traveled to Africa, and told me that the number one form of birth control there is anal sex. They don’t use condoms, or lubricants. When a person gets AIDS in Africa it means they’re cursed and they’re drummed out of their village. The statistics are high, I think seventy percent of all AIDS cases are on that continent. It’s crazy that we’re not doing more. I just want to go over there and help them,” Bowman says, pleadingly. “I just don’t know how. I want to adopt all the orphans, bring them over here and find them good homes. Africa is like this big white elephant in the room and nobody’s doing anything about it.” You can bet that before too long, Bingo Boy will….

Learn more about Bowman and bingo balls at www.legendarybingo.com.

Dann Dulin is Senior Editor of A&U.

December 2005