December 01, 2025 | Sue Dietz

Unforgettable: Sue Dietz & the Milwaukee AIDS Project

Before testing, treatment, or hope, there was only panic, paranoia and death. But there was also Sue Dietz, a guardian angel fighting on the frontlines of the AIDS Crisis in Milwaukee.

Sue Dietz

"Being 'the AIDS Lady' was a badge of honor. This was the most important work that I have ever done."

Sue Dietz began a lifelong career in healthcare in Milwaukee, Wisconsin. As a UW-Milwaukee student, she volunteered at the Gay People's Union VD Clinic, and later joined the BESTD Clinic as a registered nurse and board member. She was on the front lines of the AIDS crisis, serving on the city's first AIDS task force, which became the Milwaukee AIDS Project in January 1985, and later the AIDS Resource Center of Wisconsin. Sue was ARCW's first paid employee as their first-ever executive director.

In 1988, Sue left Milwaukee to work for the Centers for Disease Control in Atlanta. Now retired, she shares her unforgettable memories of Milwaukee's war against AIDS, in her own words.

I can’t think about MAP without remembering the wonderful volunteers who really made organization.

They were really the Milwaukee AIDS Project.

There were a couple of hundred of them. Board members who conceived of the idea and made it a reality. Office staff members who answered the phones, managed the hotline, typed up meeting minutes, cleaned the office, shoveled the snow, and made sure that everything was running smoothly.

There were many committees of volunteers, among them was Life Care Services. The amazing Life Care Services volunteers took care of our clients – tirelessly driving them to and from appointments, bringing them whatever they needed at home, visiting them in the hospital, hosting activities to provide social interaction and fun, and just sitting with a client holding his hand to show their love and caring. They came from all walks of life and jobs – doctors, store clerks, nurses, teachers, farmers, lawyers, pilots, construction workers, counselors, accountants, ministers, and so many more. They brought whatever skills they had to help our clients who needed them so much. I am profoundly moved by their generosity and commitment.

I have so many memories of clients that are unforgettable. Way too many to share here. But I want to describe a few. I am not comfortable sharing real names or photos of these brave and embattled friends. So, names are made-up and photos are only of those who can give permission now.

Our first client at MAP was a man who grew up in Milwaukee. When he decided to live his gay lifestyle, he moved to Los Angeles. He wanted to run on the wild side and the thrill of the giant city drew him in. He lived in LA for years “working” bath houses and bars trading sex for money.

This created a distance between him and his family in Milwaukee that was more than just miles. There was little to no communication between him and his parents and sisters. But when he became sick with AIDS, he needed help. He moved home to his parents’ home. He moved right back into his old bedroom next to the rooms of his sisters and parents.

This close proximity to their son/brother made them nervous since he was affected by the scary disease of AIDS that filled the media. And he was a man with grudges that he acted out in the home they all shared. When his sisters caught him using their toothbrushes, they rebelled against him and made him leave. They sent him out on the street with his suitcase. He had alienated all of his family and friends so he had nowhere to go.

He called me from a pay phone next to the bus stop near his family home. I called our Life Care Services volunteers and they were miracles. Two men, a couple of many years, took him into their home and put him up in a spare bedroom for the remainder of his life. They fed him, took him to doctor appointments, managed his abusive personality, and showed him the caring and love he had lived without for so many years.

He died with them there in their home. As Life Care Services protocols were developed, they called a funeral home to come and pick him up. The Funeral Director agreed (many were refusing to care for our clients) but the staff who drove the hearse refused to transport him. So, those two volunteers gently put the client in their own car and drove him to the funeral home. The Funeral Director met them at the entrance, apologizing for the situation, and prepared our client for his final rest.

There are not enough Thank You’s in the universe for those two volunteers who made such a difference in this client’s troubled life.

It was part of my job to talk with the media, coordinate our work with the local and state health departments, educate and negotiate with the Sheriff’s department, give speeches, network with local churches, etc.

It was my role as a “safe” straight, white, woman, and nurse. I was ok to talk to. Ok to ask questions. Ok to ask how they could help.

It was my role to be the “face of AIDS” for the local straight community. It gave me the heavy responsibility of making this a widely recognized healthcare issue and a gay rights issue.

Sue (lower right) and the volunteers of the BESTD Clinic, 1978

Sue and friends

Sue and Dr. Roger Gremminger

I heard that I was sometimes referred to as The AIDS Lady. I wore that title as a badge of honor.

This work is the most important thing that I have ever done. A gift that I humbly acknowledge as the chance to really make a difference in the world.

A recognizable face was sometimes a liability too though. I suffered, as we all did, from the sadness and stress of death around us every day. Going to funerals of our clients sometimes helped with dealing with those emotions. I didn’t always attend funerals but sometimes did.

One day, I was sitting in the back row of a huge catholic church at the funeral of one of our clients. Just before the service began, one of his family members came up to me and asked me to leave.

He said, “People recognize you. If they see you here, they will know how he died. Please leave.”

I left. I walked to my car feeling surprised, hurt, and sorry that I couldn’t participate in the young man’s funeral.

And honestly, I was angry that this young man’s last salute would not acknowledge the man he truly was. A happy, intelligent, gay man who deserved to be understood and accepted.

Sue Dietz at the Milwaukee AIDS Project

Sue Dietz at the Milwaukee AIDS Project

I regularly visited a young lawyer who was ill with AIDS. His beloved partner had passed before him. On my last visit with him, he gave me the teddy bear his mother had given him when he was a little boy. She hadn’t talked to him in years - since she learned that he was gay. He missed her and wanted to make one last connection with her. So, he asked me to return the teddy bear to his Mom and tell her he loved her.

After his death, I went to her house. When she saw me in her front doorway, she stared at me for a moment and then slammed the door in my face. She didn’t want to hear about her son. And she didn’t want that bear. Well, I wanted it.

And now, 40+ years later, I still have it with me.

One of my most unforgettable people was from central Wisconsin farm country. We will call him, Jimmy, here. A handsome young man blonde man with a smile that brightened your heart.

He moved to Milwaukee to live his gay life. He had a grand circle of dear friends. People he lived with, partied with, and loved life with. When he became ill with AIDS, those friends took care of him. And when he was too sick to stay at home, they took him to the hospital. They would come to visit him and hold his hands, hug him, tell him all the local news, and drink in his warmth and that smile.

When I got the call that he had passed, I stared out of the window in my office and sobbed. I cried and cried and cried. Not willing to accept this cruel truth.

My friends and colleagues worried about me sitting in the closed room sobbing – they repeatedly came to check on me and hug me. One said he had never heard anyone cry so hard. Jimmy’s passing was a huge loss for all of us.

While in the hospital, Jimmy met a nurse who was assigned to care for him. She started her work with him as a regular assignment but getting to know him changed her life. She took care of his pain, washed him, fed him, read to him to help him fall asleep. And they talked endlessly.

She knew nothing about being gay and nothing about AIDS. But she was taken in by his sunny warm self and came to love him. When Jimmy died, she was bereft. She felt a huge vacuum inside. She cried and cried, but it didn’t help the grief. And she had no one to talk to about this. No one else in her life understood what she was feeling. She had to hide her grief because many around her were not approving of gay people - let alone AIDS.

She called me on the phone. I had never met her. We talked on the phone for a couple of hours that very day.

I was overwhelmed with obligations that day and missed a couple of meetings while we talked. She talked and talked about her time with him.

The part of our conversation that is most unforgettable was when the two of them talked about the time after death.

She told Jimmy that she wanted to be like the sunshine. Jimmy told her, “No, I want to be the wind. So, I am around all of you all the time forever.”

I am still overcome with grief at his loss whenever I think of that conversation between Jimmy and his nurse. I had had that same conversation with him and it still rests in my heart as one of my most unforgettable moments. I felt bad when we finally hung up because I knew this young nurse still needed help. There was only so much help to give.

I look back at our work in the AIDS Project now and realize that this was a need that we never really addressed.

We took care of our own volunteers but did not give enough support to those in the “straight” community who were starting to help with AIDS and often found themselves alone. I hope that nurse found more help and learned to deal with his loss and appreciate the wonderful gifts she gave to him in his last days. There are so many people and experiences that stay with me in my heart.

As I age now and my own health fails, I find it more important to put these things ‘down on paper.’

The clients, staff, and volunteers of the Milwaukee AIDS Project and the people in the community who worked together with us are so important.

Worth it for all of us to remember as the most unforgettable years of our lives.

Hear more from Sue Dietz in our BeSeen podcast with Radio Milwaukee.