New York Newsday - Thursday, December 22, 1994
THERE'S NO DISHONOR IN FIGHTING FOR LIFE
by Gabriel Rotello
	New York - Barbara Webb died of AIDS last Sunday. She was the grandmother
who, according to the Centers for Disease Control, became infected with HIV
by Florida dentist Dr. David Acer. 
	Once she learned of her infection, Barbara Webb became, along with Kimberly
Bergalis, a passionate advocate for the mandatory HIV testing of health care
workers. Webb and Bergalis almost won their battle, thanks in no small
measure to Webb's charisma, which was edged with the righteous anger of
someone grievously wronged. 
	Like most AIDS activists, I bitterly fought their proposal. But I never
discussed Webb personally, for a very personal reason. Aside from being one
of the mainstream AIDS movement's most effective adversaries, Barbara Webb
was one of my mother's best friends, and one I had loved as a child. Anybody
who watched her on TV could understand why a kid would love Barbara. Her face
creased with a perpetual smile, she had a buoyant charisma that would have
served her well as an actress or a politician. But she devoted herself to
educating children. Including, once, me. 
	As Barbara's advocacy of the mandatory testing of health workers became big
news, it could not have been easy for my mother. Mom had, on the one hand, a
son prominent in the AIDS movement, arguing passionately against the growing
panic around  testing. And she had, on the other, a dying friend leading the
charge in the opposite direction. My mother's heart went out to Barbara, but
her mind held back on the wisdom of forced testing, and that must have been
hard. When a friend is dying you want to give every comfort, agree with every
opinion. Mom got a crash course in how the politics of AIDS can invade even
the most private relationships.
	In the end, Barbara Webb was neither a bigot nor a dummy, and she eventually
abandoned her campaign. It remains unclear what happened in Dr. Acer's
office, but certainly there is no evidence that any other doctor has ever
infected a patient with HIV, and Barbara finally accepted that whatever
happened to her wasn't happening anywhere else. So she turned her energies
back to education, and worked, among other things, to educate the elderly in
Florida's retirement communities about safer sex. 
	That brave work was not always well received, and it got her little
publicity. So when she died this week she was chiefly remembered as the
grandmother who had fought for mandatory testing. When friends heard the
news, a few noted that Webb had been wrong on a crucial issue, and wondered
if she ever realized it, and if so, how she felt. 
	But I think I know. In the course of this epidemic we have all been wrong
about something. Whether we're treatment activists rethinking our opposition
to placebo testing, or prevention activists rethinking the rules of safer sex,
 or social activists rethinking our storming of a cathedral, everybody has
made mistakes. There is no dishonor in holding life above all else. The
dishonor would be to do nothing when you think you see the chance to do good.
Barbara thought she saw that chance, and seized it. In the end her science
may have been wrong, but not her heart. 
	We never spoke after she learned of her infection. For a while mom urged me
to call her, and hinted that I might expect a call myself. But no call ever
came, and I could never bring myself to make one. Once I mailed her some
information about treatments for women with AIDS, but otherwise we watched
each other from afar, mediated by someone who loved us both. 
	I keep a private list of people I know who have died of AIDS. Even though
it's a long list, I don't put everybody on it. Only friends. Mrs. Webb, the
AIDS activist, is my 123rd entry.