From Grey Flannel Suits to Bell-bottoms and Beads: Social Movement Theory and the Transformation of the Gay Rights Movement in the
United States, 1951 to 1972
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By: Bryan Charles SchwartzAdvised by: Dr. David Goldfrank and Dr. Joseph McCartin
Submitted: 5/5/2014
To Dr. Robert Schwartz and Mr. Herluf Kanstrup, for the love, support, and fireside chats.
And for paving the way.
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“In the millions who are silent and submerged, I see a potential,a reservoir of protest, a hope for a portion of mankind. And inmy knowledge that our number is legion, I raise my head high and
proclaim that we, the voiceless millions, are human beings,entitled to breathe the fresh air and enjoy, with all humanity,
the pleasures of life and love on God's green Earth.” --Donald Webster Cory (The Homosexual in America, 1951, p. 91)
“Now, times are a changin’...Grumbling could be heard among thelimp wristed set. Predominantly, the theme was, 'this shit has go
to stop!'” –Ronnie Di Brienza (The East Village Other, July 9th 1969, p. 2)
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Table of Contents
PREFACE: THE HAIRPIN DROP HEARD ‘ROUND THE WORLDThe Stonewall narrative
INTRODUCTION: OUT OF THE CLOSETS AND INTO THE STREETSHistoriographic trends and the construction of a structural framework
SECTION ONE: GREY FLANNEL SUITSThe Mattachine Society and the East Coast Homophile Organizations Conferences (1951-1965)
SECTION TWO: BELL-BOTTOMS AND BEADSThe North American Conference of Homophile Organizations, the Eastern Regional Conference of Homophile Organizations, and gay liberation (1966-1972)
CONCLUSION: ABEYANCE ACROSS THE PONDThe transnational/international turn in the contemporary historiography and final thoughts
4
The Hairpin Drop Heard ‘Round the World
At one o'clock in the morning on June 28th 1969,
approximately two hundred gay men and women were drinking and
dancing inside the Stonewall Inn on 53 Christopher Street in New
York City's Greenwich Village. Established in 1967 by members of
the Genovese crime family, the Stonewall Inn was a popular gay
bar that drew profits of nearly $11,000 on an average weekend.1
Although the bar’s Mafia-affiliated owners managed to avoid
police raids by utilizing a well lubricated system of bribery,
the unsavory management brought with it a number of
disadvantages. In an effort to limit operating costs and maximize
their profits, the bar’s owners frequently and flagrantly
violated city health and safety codes. The worst of these
violations stemmed from a lack of running water behind the bar.
When glasses were returned, they were “washed” in small basins of
recycled water and quickly refilled for the next customer. In
addition to their clear disregard for public health, the owners
engaged in a tidy “side business,” which involved the blackmail
and/or extortion of their wealthier patrons. After an
1 David Eisenbach, Gay Power: An American Revolution (New York: Carroll & Graf, 2006): p. 85.
5
investigation unearthed this criminal enterprise during the 1969
mayoral elections, the New York Police Department dispatched
Deputy Inspector Seymour Pine, Detective Charles Smyth, and six
officers from the “Morals Squad” to investigate allegations that
the Stonewall Inn was “operating without a liquor license.”2
Smyth, Pine, and the small contingent of male and female officers
arrived in plainclothes in front of the Stonewall Inn at 1:20AM.
Shortly thereafter, the team entered through the double doors at
the front of the building whereupon Inspector Pine
melodramatically announced “Police! We're taking the place!”3
During the postwar period in the United States, raids of
this nature were an accepted part of life for those men and women
who frequented the country’s gay bars, but on June 28th the
police encountered unprecedented resistance.4 Accounts of the
raid tend to diverge chronologically after the appearance of the
2 This justification appeared in the official police report, in an effort to conceal the scope of the ongoing extortion investigation. Activist Richard Leitsch and the New York Post as quoted in David Carter, “An Analytical Collation of Accounts and Documents Recorded in the Year 1969 Concerning the Stonewall Riots” http://www.davidcarterauthor.com, accessed 03/20/14 pp. 7-8.
3 David Carter, Stonewall: The Riots that Sparked the Gay Revolution (New York: St. Martin's Press, 2004): p. 137.
4 Police reports and interviews with Seymour Pine as quoted in Carter, “An Analytical Collation” p. 12
6
police, but the events remain the same. Following a common
practice in incidents of cross-dressing, two female officers led
a group of men dressed in drag to the bar’s bathrooms where they
attempted to ascertain the physical gender of their charges.5
Rather than submit to this theatrical humiliation as they often
had before, the men resisted. At the same time, other officers
confiscated the bar’s stores of liquor and ejected patrons from
the premises, arresting a number of individuals on charges
ranging from harassment to resisting arrest and disorderly
conduct.6 Much to the chagrin of Smyth and Pine, a communication
breakdown with their 6th Precinct headquarters delayed the
dispatch of patrol wagons that were required to transport their
prisoners. With nowhere else to turn, the officers and their
handcuffed charges waited for the patrol wagons outside on
Christopher Street.7
5 According to Detective Pine, “men dressed in drag who had undergone a sex change operation could be let go, but men dressed in drag who had not undergone a sex change operation were subject to arrest.” Pine, however, ignored this odd provision of the New York state penal code and released many of the individuals who were taken into the bathrooms. Pine as quoted in Carter, “An Analytical Collation”, p. 25.
6 New York Times as quoted in Carter, “An Analytical Collation”, pp. 9, 13, 26-27.
7 Carter, Stonewall, p. 142.7
By the time the first wagon arrived on the scene, a sizable
crowd of some four hundred men and women had formed on the street
outside the bar.8 The onlookers had assembled quietly, but the
tension was palpable. As the crowd swelled, and the police
attempted to load their resisting prisoners into the arriving
wagons, an unidentified bystander is said to have shouted, "Gay
power!” and a chorus of “We Shall Overcome” rose above the
growing din.9 Although the exact point of ignition remains the
focus of some debate among historians, the crowd soon transformed
into a fiery mob.10 With the situation rapidly deteriorating,
Pine ordered three squad cars and two loaded patrol wagons to
return to headquarters and “hurry back.” As the vehicles broke
through and escaped the mob, a hail of bottles, pennies, and
rocks fell on the remaining officers. Outnumbered, Pine directed
his men to retreat into the bar whereupon they barricaded the
doors and windows.11 Emboldened by the retreat of their enemy,
the crowd surged forward, smashed the Inn's windows, and
8 New York Times and New York Post as quoted in Carter, “An Analytical Collation”,p. 11.
9 Carter, Stonewall, pp. 147-148.10 Martin B. Duberman, Stonewall (New York City: Dutton, 1993): p. 196;
Interviews quoted in Carter, “An Analytic Collation” p. 14 see fn 37. 11 Richard Leitsch and Village Voice reporter Smith as quoted in Carter, “An
Analytic Collation” pp. 15, 17, 19.8
attempted to batter the door with uprooted parking meters.
Inside, Inspector Pine ordered his panicked men to check their
service revolvers while another officer yelled to the crowd,
“We’ll shoot the first motherfucker that comes through the
door!”12 As the chaos on the street unfolded, some individuals in
the crowd attempted to light the building on fire to “roast the
pigs.”13 A “small, scrawny, hoody-looking cat” approached one of
the bar’s broken windows, doused the ground inside with lighter
fluid, and threw in a match. The fluid ignited. Using a small
hose, several officers succeeded in extinguishing the small fire,
but not before Pine had leveled his service revolver at the
would-be arsonist and prepared to fire.14 At this crucial moment,
Pine and his men heard a wail of sirens that signaled the
approach of reinforcements.
By the time order was finally restored to the Village in the
early morning hours, the rioting had left the Stonewall Inn in
shambles and led to thirteen arrests. The morning after the raid,
the Village Voice, New York Daily News, New York Post, and New York Times
12 Smith as quoted in Carter, “An Analytic Collation” pp. 21-22.13 Carter, “An Analytic Collation”, p. 2314 Smith, Leitsch, and the New York Times as quoted in Carter, “An Analytic
Collation,” pp. 22-23.9
covered the story with detailed articles.15 The intense and
largely unprecedented media coverage of a militant act of gay
resistance spread quickly and soon coverage of the the riots
appeared in newspapers across the country. Galvanized by this
attention from the national media, the “Stonewall Boys” in
Greenwich Village continued to confront the police over the next
seven days.16
Among the gay population, interpretations of Stonewall were
hardly consistent. Reactions were charged with a range of
emotions, from anger and despair to excitement and elation. The
gay author Edmund White summarized this uncertainty: “Dreary
middle-class East-Side queens stand around disapproving, but
fascinated, unable to go home, as though torn between their class
loyalties, their desires to be respectable, and their longing for
freedom.”17 Members of the Mattachine Society of New York, a
homophile organization founded in the early 1950s, left a message
on one of the Stonewall Inn’s boarded windows in an effort to
defuse the growing radicalism. Their message read: “We
15 Donn Teal, The Gay Militants (St. Martin's Press, 1971): p. 4.16 Carter, “An Analytic Collation” pp. 35-36.17 Author Edmund White as quoted by Carter, “An Analytic Collation” p. 34.
10
homosexuals plead with our people to please help maintain
peaceful and quiet conduct on the streets of the Village.”18 Next
to this plea, an untidy scrawl announced a series of meetings to
“discuss solutions to your complaints.”19 Although the Mattachine
Society limped on for several years after the Riots, its
comparatively conservative principles had fallen out of fashion,
subsumed by the confrontational tactics of the emerging “gay
liberationists”. Capitalizing on the public’s growing fascination
with homosexuality, the development of new tactics of organized
resistance, and the galvanizing symbol of the Stonewall Riots, a
number of men and women founded the “Gay Liberation Front” (or
GLF) in the weeks after Stonewall. For the next four years, the
GLF fought for its namesake by developing a set of principles and
tactical strategies that were inspired by the Black Panthers and
other ’68 organizations.20 In contrast to the GLF, the Gay
Activists Alliance (or GAA)—founded on December 21, 1969—built
upon the activism of the homophile movement and advocated solely
18 See Appendix, Image 1 19 In addition to these meetings, MSNY and the Homophile Youth League
distributed leaflets explaining what had occurred at Stonewall and “what todo if you are arrested”. The Ladder (a lesbian periodical) as quoted in Carter, “An Analytic Collation”, p. 32.
20 Carter, Stonewall, pp. 202, 218-219.11
for gay rights by organizing precision strikes (e.g. protests,
sit-ins, and pickets) against established authorities (e.g. the
government, the media, and corporations). The GAA achieved a
number of political successes, grew steadily, and persisted into
the 1980s.
The day after the Stonewall Inn was raided by Pine and his
contingent of officers, The New York Mattachine Newsletter ran with the
clever headline “The Hairpin Drop Heard 'Round the World.” The
Newsletter emphasized the growing radicalism in the gay rights
movement and foreshadowed, perhaps unintentionally, the demise of
the earlier “homophile movement” when it boldly declared the dawn
of a new era.21 Like the event that inspired the article’s title,
however the gay rights movement in the United States did not
spring fully-formed from the double doors of the Stonewall Inn.
Rather, like the American Revolution, the seeds of change had
been planted decades earlier. Like the watershed events at
Lexington and Concord, the hairpin drop may have energized the
gay rights movement and captured the attention of gay and
straight men and women across the country, but it was not the
21 Carter, Stonewall, pp. 210, 215.12
first example of gay unrest or political organization. To forget
important events like the ECHO (East Coast Homophile
Organizations) conferences of 1964 through 1966, the formation of
NACHO (North American Conference of Homophile Organizations) in
1967, and homophile organizations like the Mattachine Society and
the Daughters of Bilitis is to obscure a crucial developmental
and transitional period that eased an ambitious movement on its
first steps out of the closet and into the streets.
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Out of the Closets and Into the Streets
The popular narrative of the gay rights movement in the
United States has often unfairly emphasized the importance of the
Stonewall Riots.22 At his second inaugural address in January of
2013, President Barack Obama reinforced the primacy of Stonewall
by associating it with other milestone events in the ongoing
struggle for social equality. As he stated:
"We, the people, declare today that the most evident of truths—that all of us are created equal—is the star that guides us still; just as it guided our forebears through Seneca Falls, and Selma, and Stonewall. ...Our journey is not complete until our gay brothers and sisters are treated like anyone else under the law...”23
Although the Riots were a significant moment in the history
of the movement, the emphasis placed upon them obscures a more
nuanced transition between the conservative principles and
tactics employed by the homophiles in the 1950s and 60s and the
outspoken and confrontational activism of the gay liberationists
who appeared in the 1970s. Before we can examine this issue more
22 In a recent article for The New Republic, historian Michael Kazin acknowledgedthis prevailing trend. Michael Kazin, “Stonewall Was Not The First Gay Rights Battle,” The New Republic, April 2, 2013; A number of recent newspaper articles have hailed Stonewall as “the beginning of the gay rights movement”. See, for example, John Harwood “A Sea Change in Less Than 50 Years as Gay Rights Gained Momentum,” New York Times, March 25, 2013.
23 Liz Halloran, “Stonewall? Explaining Obama's Historic Gay-Rights Reference”National Public Radio, January 22, 2013.
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closely, however, it is necessary to briefly turn our attention
to the existing historiography of the gay rights movement. Though
diverse, this body of literature can be thematically and
chronologically organized.
Although some scholars explore a number of themes in the
course of their historical analysis, the majority focus on two in
particular: sociocultural and political. Given their mass appeal
and accessibility, sociocultural topics are intensely popular
inside and outside of the academy and it is through the
examination of such topics that scholars have engaged with a wide
variety of material ranging from gay literature to theater and
film.24 Authors who focus on sociocultural topics often attempt,
with varying degrees of success, to identify and/or explain the
existence of a “gay community” that possesses characteristics
24 It would be impractical to list here every scholarly monograph that has addressed a sociocultural topic related to the gay rights movement, but several titles tend to appear in bibliographies with more frequency than others. For literature see, David Bergman, Gaiety Transfigured: Gay Self-Representation in American Literature (Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 1991)and Claude J Summers, Gay Fictions: Wilde to Stonewall: Studies in a Male Homosexual Literary Tradition (New York: Continuum, 1990); For cinema see Vito Russo, The Celluloid Closet: Homosexuality in the Movies (New York: Harper & Row, 1987); For theater see,Alan Sinfield, Out On Stage: Lesbian and Gay Theater in the Twentieth Century (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1999); And for “bar culture” see Will Fellows and Helen P. Branson, Gay Bar: The Fabulous, True Story of a Daring Woman and Her Boys in the 1950s (Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 2010).
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similar to those of an ethnic minority.25 With its groundbreaking
primary research and its focus on the gay community of New York
in the 1920s, George Chauncey’s Gay New York remains one of the
best examples of this kind of monograph.26 It is in this oft-
cited text that Chauncey proposes a revised periodization for the
history of (homo)sexuality in America. According to Chauncey,
this history is one characterized not by linearity, leading from
oppression to freedom, but rather a constantly fluctuating cycle
of tolerance and repression. With his detailed narrative,
Chauncey went on to prove that “gay life was less tolerated, less
visible to outsiders, and more rigidly segregated in the second
third of the century than in the first.”27 Chauncey’s text was
warmly received by both academics and the general public for its
focused research and readability as well as its revision of the
traditional linear periodization.
More recently, Christopher Bram published an historical
survey of gay writers titled Eminent Outlaws.28 Clearly intended for
25 Including, generally, those of a common language and “culture”.26 George Chauncey, Gay New York: Gender, Urban Culture, and the Makings of the Gay Male World,
1890-1940 (New York: Basic Books, 1994).27 Chauncey, p. 9.28 Christopher Bram, Eminent Outlaws: The Gay Writers Who Changed America (New York:
Twelve, 2012).16
a more general audience, Bram’s text nonetheless suggests that
the thematic focus on sociocultural topics continues to capture
the interest of scholars today. Like Chauncey, Bram offered
support for a “nonlinear” periodization of the gay rights
movement. By composing a series of biographical vignettes focused
on a few of the most popular gay writers of the 20th century,
Bram emphasized the existence of a prewar period of general
tolerance, followed by a postwar period of renewed silence and/or
open repression.29 In the course of his “large scale cultural
narrative,” Bram examined the collected works of Gore Vidal,
Truman Capote, Tennessee Williams, James Baldwin, and Christopher
Isherwood, all while exploring their interactions with one
another and a larger “gay community.”30 Although Eminent Outlaws is
based almost exclusively on the published works of these authors
and selected secondary criticism, the lack of new source material
does not hinder Bram's ability to convincingly support his claim
that the emergence of gay literature fostered a sense of
29 Bram, pp. 4, 10-11.30 Bram, p. x; For some of the relevant works by these gay authors see James
Baldwin, Giovanni's Room (New York: Dial Press, 1956); Truman Capote, Other Voices, Other Rooms (New York: Random House, 1948). Christopher Isherwood, A Single Man (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 2001); Gore Vidal, The City and the Pillar (New York: Random House, 1995); Tennessee Williams, The Glass Menagerie (New York: New Directions, 1999).
17
“community” among gay men. Though some of these path-breaking
works of literature received harsh receptions when finally
published, Bram explains how these works showed gay men and women
around the country that they were “part of something larger.”31
In an effort to transcend the primacy of the Stonewall
narrative, this paper borrows the periodization advanced by
Chauncey and supported by Bram and applies it to the
organizational history of the gay rights movement. More
specifically, this paper focuses on the transitional period that
came between the foundation of the homophile movement’s largest
organizational body in 1951 and the birth of the gay liberation
movement represented by the foundation of the GLF and GAA in
1969. A rough periodization thus established, we may turn our
attention to the second thematic focus that dominates this
historiography.
In the final lines of his monograph, Christopher Bram
loosely tied his sociocultural investigations to political issues
by arguing that in the case of the gay rights movement “art laid
the groundwork for social change.”32 As one might expect, authors
31 Bram, p. ix. 32 Bram, pp. x, 304.
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who focus on political topics place greater emphasis on activism
and public policy. While hardly an ironclad rule, such texts are
often intended for academic audiences and, as such, they utilize
a wide array of primary source material. Although the thematic
focus on politics may be traced back to some of the earliest
monographs within this historiography, David Johnson’s The Lavender
Scare is the most recent and scholarly rigorous example. Like
those pieces that address sociocultural subjects, political
monographs tend to follow a similar chronology that includes a
pre-World War II period characterized by apathetic exclusion or
toleration of homosexuality, a postwar period defined by active
oppression, and a modern/postmodern period characterized by
increasing civil and social equality. Focusing on political
repression over the longue duree, monographs of this type often
address the creation of, and reaction to, repressive government
policies and legal discrimination.
While at times concerned with the gay subculture in the
District of Columbia, David Johnson focused primarily on the
federal government’s postwar persecution of gay men. According to
Johnson, the “Lavender Scare” caused pervasive fear throughout
19
the 1950s; it was generally thought that homosexuals posed a
threat to national security and needed to be systematically
removed from the federal government.33 He explained that this
form of persecution originated as a “partisan weapon in the halls
of Congress,” but soon spread to the general population, where it
fueled the creation of conspiracy theories and fear of “sexual
perversion.”34 Johnson made many important points in the course
of his relatively short monograph on this political issue, but
one stands out among the rest for the frequency with which it has
been addressed by other scholars. Like so many scholars before
and since, Johnson emphasized the importance of information in
the history of the gay rights movement. He argued that lexical
ambiguity and a general ignorance of homosexuality contributed to
this system of persecution.35 Related to this confusion, Johnson
explained that communism was often erroneously connected to
homosexuality and vice versa. Officials within the federal
government, “informed” by false information and encouraged by
stereotypes of the “loose lipped” and “easily blackmailed”
33 David K. Johnson, The Lavender Scare: The Cold War Persecution of Gays and Lesbians in the Federal Government (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2004): p. 9.
34 Johnson, p. 9. 35 Johnson, p.7.
20
homosexual, irrationally feared the existence of a “homintern”
that could undermine the American political system.36
Terminology has always posed a unique problem for scholars
working with the history of the gay rights movement. Terms and
definitions used to denote same-sex attraction, and the political
organization of such individuals, differ widely across both space
and time.37 For the sake of clarity, it seems appropriate to
briefly define some of the terms frequently found within this
historiography. First, and perhaps most importantly, the term
homophile was used to refer to both men and women who were active
participants in the “homophile movement” and its constituent
organizations. Often, homophiles engaged in sexual activities
with members of the same sex.38 So defined, use of the word 36 Johnson, pp. 33-35. 37 Harry Hay offers a perfect example of the lexical chaos characteristic of
the 1950s, by referring to men who are attracted to members of their own sex as androgynes, homophiles, homosexuals, faeries, and gays. Harry Hay and Will Roscoe, Radically Gay: Gay Liberation in the Words of its Founder. (Boston: Beacon Press, 1996): p. 62; In queer theory and sexuality studies, terminology continues to be the focus of protracted debate. For the major works of queer theory that confront issues associated with terminology see Eve Kosofsky Sedgwick,Epistemology of the Closet (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1990) specifically pp. 1-63; Michel Foucault, The History of Sexuality: An Introduction (New York: Vintage Books, 1990) specifically pp. 100-102; David Halperin, One Hundred Years of Homosexuality and other essays on Greek Love (New York: Routledge, 1990).
38 The term was first explained by the homophile activist Donald Webster Cory,The Homosexual in America: A Subjective Approach (New York: Arno Press, 1951): pp. 4-6; A brochure given out to attendees at the 1965 ECHO conference explained that the term allowed for the inclusion of heterosexual allies, “The word
21
homophile was limited to a specific historical period from roughly
the 1950s to the 1970s. After Stonewall, a number of
organizations and individuals dismissed homophile as a euphemism,
choosing instead to use the word gay to refer to men who engaged
in sexual activities with other men.39 For women who engaged in
sexual activities with other women, use of the term lesbian
started to appear in literature during the 20th century and,
since then, it has stood the test of time and sensitivity.40 The
term homosexual was used by both homophiles and the post-Stonewall
militant liberationists. Unless otherwise noted, this paper—in order
to avoid confusion and anachronism—uses the term homosexual to
refer to men and women who preferred to engage in sexual
is not synonymous with homosexual, but conforms to the following formal definition: Homophile: adj: pertaining to the social movement devoted to the improvement of the status of the homosexual, and to groups, activities,and literature associated with the movement; as, homophile organizations, homophile conferences, homophile publications.” ECHO Brochure, September 24-26, 1965
39 George Chauncey explained that use of the word gay to refer to men who had sex with other men actually originated in the “gay argot” of the 1920s before it fell briefly out of fashion. Chauncey, pp. 13-21 particularly 20-21.
40 The word lesbian is derived from the Greek island of Lesbos where the poet Sappho lived in 600 BCE. Many of Sappho's poems referred explicitly to samesex attraction between women. Historian Lillian Faderman explained that while the word was used to describe women who had sex with other women in the early 19th century, it is unclear when and where the term was first used. Lillian Faderman, Odd Girls and Twilight Lovers: A History of Lesbian Life in Twentieth-Century America, (New York: Columbia University Press, 1991): pp. 4-5, 48-54.
22
activities with members of the same sex.41 Finally, we may return
briefly to the issue of periodization where the phrase “gay
rights movement” has been used to refer, for the sake of
convenience, to both the “homophile movement” and the “gay
liberation movement” as an historical process. Individually, the
precise definition and nature of these movements constitutes the
bulk of this paper’s analysis.
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The forty-five years since Stonewall have witnessed a
dramatic increase in the number of historical monographs that
focus on the sociocultural and political history of the gay
rights movement in the United States. As time has passed and
activists have aged, former participants in the movement have
started to donate their personal papers and organizational
records to museums, libraries, and educational institutions.42
This increased access to primary documents has allowed historians
to revisit the gay rights movement and many of the debates
41 The term was popularized by Richard von Krafft-Ebing, trans. Franklin S. Klaf. Psychopathia Sexualis (New York, NY: Arcade Publishing, 2011); Cory, p. xiv; Some gay liberationists considered “homosexual” a pejorative term associated with psychiatric diagnoses of abnormality.
42 The present piece utilizes the archival collections of the Mattachine Society of New York (or MSNY) housed by the New York Public Library.
23
sparked by literature that were published in the 1970s. Today,
reflecting on the literature that has been published in this
relatively short period, we can identify a chronological
development in this historiography.
This literature may be sorted into three chronological
groups. The first of these consists of the “initial reporters,”
Dennis Altman, Don Teal, and Arthur Bell. Due, in part, to the
sympathies of their authors and the time in which they were
published, the books produced by this group focus almost
exclusively on the activities of the gay liberationists and their
organizations. In the 1990s, Judith Butler, David Halperin, and
Eve Kosofsky Sedgwick expanded upon the pioneering work of Michel
Foucault with a number of monographs that dealt with human
sexuality. These men and women established some of the guiding
principles of what would become “queer theory.”43 Although a
discipline of its own, the popularity of queer theory inspired a
new generation of gay rights historians to expand their
periodizations and reexamine some of the theories advanced by the
initial reporters. These “revisionists”—chief among them John
43 See fn 36 and 74. 24
D'Emilio and Lillian Faderman—published several monographs that
focused the historical lens on the homophile movement, its member
organizations, and those individuals who participated in it. In
the early 2000s, a number of new historians, including Justin
Spring, Martin Meeker, and David Eisenbach, borrowed from the
collected literature of the first two groups and analyzed the
history of the gay rights movement using a variety of new sources
and methodological angles.
Following the formation of the GLF and GAA in the early
1970s, Dennis Altman, Don Teal, and Arthur Bell published books
that sought to explain the ideology of the gay liberationists and
the political goals of their movement. Since all three authors
were active liberationists, their books were influenced by their
own experiences and sympathies. Though scholarly works, these
books also served as manifestos, providing their readers with on-
the-ground images of the gay rights movement as well as
ideological support.
According to historian Jeffery Weeks, Denis Altman’s 1971
Homosexual: Oppression and Liberation was the first monograph to examine
the theories and history of gay liberation. In the course of his
25
informative study, Altman developed three theories that
historians of the gay rights movement returned to frequently over
the next forty-five years.44 These theories were based on gay
identity, the concept of community, and, Altman’s most
controversial claim, the “end of the homosexual.”
Altman began his path-breaking piece with a bold
pronouncement:
“Over the past few years I have come to realize that my homosexuality is an integral part of my self-identity, and that to hide it can only make my life, if less precarious, more difficult and unsatisfying...Like most gay people, I know myself to be part of a minority feared, disliked, and persecuted by the majority and this gives my life a complexity and an extra dimension unknown to straights.”45
Inspired by liberationist theories in which he explained
that homosexuality was an important part of one's identity that
could not, and should not, be repressed, Altman proudly self-
identified as a gay man and viewed himself as part of a minority
population. His allegiance to liberationist thought was further
emphasized in his discussion of definitions wherein he explained
44 Dennis Altman, Homosexual: Oppression and Liberation (New York: Outerbridge & Dienstfrey, 1971): p. 5.
45 Emphasis mine. Altman, pp. 20-21. Interestingly enough, this statement is quite similar to an earlier one made by the homophile activist Donald Webster Cory years before the homophile movement turned towards “assimilationism”. Cory, pp. 6-10.
26
that “homosexuality” is more than simply a “behavioral act; it is
also a matter of emotion.”46 Attached to this discussion of
terms, he rejected the idea of a “gay community,” favoring
instead the theory that gay men and women constituted a social
movement that developed in reaction to the repressive policies
held in place by the heterosexual majority. He noted that: “Far
from a genuine community, providing a full and satisfying sense
of identity for homosexuals, [the gay world] consists
predominantly of a number of places which facilitate contacts
with other homosexuals. At best the gay world can be seen as a
pseudo community, held together largely by sexual barter.”47
Connected to all of these points, Altman explained that
“Homosexuality is an historical and social invention, formed in
specific historical conditions, and likely to disappear as
conditions change.”48 According to Altman, by working through the
“process of gay liberation,” humanity could move beyond all forms
of sexual repression and realize the Marcusian dream of a
“multidimensional” man.49 “Full liberation is a product of both 46 Altman, p. 21.47 Altman, pp. 48-49.48 Altman, p. 46 see also, p. 15049 Altman, pp. 103-110. Altman frequently referenced Herbert Marcuse's Eros and
Civilization wherein it is theorized that sexuality is by nature 27
individual and social change,” he wrote. “Gay liberation will
have achieved its full potential when it is no longer needed,
when we see each other neither as men and women, gay and
straight, but purely as people with varied possibilities.”50
Although Altman later admitted that recent scientific research
has cast some doubt on this theory, support for sexual fluidity
and malleable sexual identities can still be found in academia.
Conceived as a piece of ideological analysis, Homosexual: Oppression
and Liberation became a piece of history and it remains one of the
most comprehensive maps of the gay liberation movement's
ideological landscape.
Equally concerned with the political victories and defeats
of gay liberation as with its ideology and culture, Don Teal's
The Gay Militants is a narrative compendium of primary documents that
focuses on the early history of the gay liberation movement.
Following his contemporaries, Teal began his monograph with an
account of the Stonewall Riots composed by the Village Voice
journalist Lucian Truscott.51 Deviating from the traditional “polymorphously perverse” thereby justifying a broad spectrum of sexualities. See Herbert Marcuse, Eros and Civilization: A Philosophical Inquiry into Freud(Boston: Beacon Press, 1966).
50 Altman, p. 162.51 Teal, pp. 17-23.
28
Stonewall periodization, however, Teal offered a rudimentary
investigation of the relationship between the homophile “old
guard” and the ascendant gay liberationists. Dividing his
monograph into chapters focused on the activities of the GLF and
the GAA, he also offered brief accounts of the NACHO meetings to
show a growing division between the homophile and the gay
liberation movements.52
In a particularly representative chapter, Teal focused on
the GAA's decision to interrupt a speech given by New York City
Mayor John Lindsey. Teal constructed a narrative based on the
experiences of those present at the scene and those who wrote
about “zaps” afterward, which told the story of organized
political action that, in its tactics, departed from the
conservative approached favored by the homophile movement.
Mounting the stage in front of the press and numerous spectators,
members of the GAA verbally accosted Mayor Lindsey, demanding an
“immediate end to police harassment.”53 Lindsey did his best to
ignore these requests, but the GAA continued its agitation into 52 For an account of the formation of the GLF see Teal, pp. 34-60; For an
account of the formation of the GAA see Teal, pp. 126-153; For a brief summary discussion of ECHO, ERCHO (when ECHO became a regional affiliate ofNACHO), and NACHO, see Teal, pp. 86-91.
53 Teal, pp. 243-249.29
the election year of 1970 by urging mayoral candidates to address
the issue of discrimination. Eventually, these efforts were
successful in prompting legal and institutional reform. Although
this is but one example of the many instances of activism
featured in The Gay Militants, Teal's close reading of primary
sources provided the historiography with a relatively objective
chronicle of events that included both lesbians and gay
organizations across the country.
Far from an objective work of scholarship, Arthur Bell's
memoir, Dancing the Gay Lib Blues, serves as a kind of personal
supplement to Altman's intellectual analysis and Teal's
compendium of primary documents.54 In his short text, Bell
focused on his year spent with the GAA, the organization he
helped found after the Stonewall Riots in 1969. Couched between
his detailed descriptions of 1960s youth culture and his personal
relationships, Bell offered an inside look at his organization by
54 Dancing the Gay Lib Blues deserves particular attention as it appears to be the only autobiographical piece composed by an active liberationist during the 1970s. Martin Duberman and Edmund White wrote autobiographical works that focused on gay liberation, but these pieces were published recently and influenced by several decades of hindsight. See Martin B. Duberman, Midlife Queer: Autobiography of a Decade, 1971-1981 (New York: Scribner, 1996); Edmund White, City Boy: My Life in New York During the 1960s and '70s, (New York: Bloomsbury, 2009).
30
describing its unique principles and tactical repertoire.55 While
this paper will address the structure and policies of the GAA
more closely in section two, Bell explained that the group formed
in reaction to the chaos that characterized the Gay Liberation
Front.56 Bell echoed Altman's theories on a number of occasions,
noting the GAA's focus on identity and self-identification and
the idea that gay liberation could free society from repressive
and inflexible sexual and gender roles. This close similarity to
Altman is particularly noticeable in Bell’s description of the
GAA splinter group “Beyond”:
“[The Beyonds] react like a miracle family; the vibes are toward tenderness and unity. We're into homosexual liberation first, gay power second. ...Sweet Beyond juices, emanating self-respect and self-pride, those little things we want from gay liberation, which ultimately come from ourselves. What a wrap up, if it happens. A wrap up, I feel, that will be another beginning in a never-ending process toward self-liberation.”57
Ultimately, Bell spoke quite highly of the liberationists
and their role in the gay rights movement, but refused to place
his activities in the movement at the center of his personal
identity: “Being a gay activist has shaken my psyche, yes,
55 Arthur Bell, Dancing the Gay Lib Blues: A Year in the Homosexual Liberation Movement (New York: Simon and Schuster, 1971).
56 Bell, pp. 17-18.57 Emphasis mine. Bell, pp. 190-191.
31
rearranged it, yes, but changed it completely, never. I can't
dance away history and experience.”58 Bell’s story emphasized the
importance of identity and political action, but explained that
such actions were only the beginning. Only with the passage of
time could the gay liberation movement be successful.
A decade after Altman, Teal, and Bell published their
invaluable contributions to the historiography, several
historians—both men and women—turned toward an examination of the
gay rights movement in the United States.59 The pieces that
emerged from this group of historians focused again on
sociocultural and political issues, all while building upon the
more abstract theories advanced by the initial reporters. As a
result, many of the monographs published by these men and women
engage, on some level, with the contentious concepts of identity
and community. While many monographs added to this historiography
during the 1980s and early 1990s, John D'Emilio's Sexual Politics,
Sexual Communities and Lillian Faderman's Odd Girls and Twilight Lovers are
two of the most frequently cited examples from this period.
58 Bell, p. 11. 59 With the possible exception being Jonathan Katz's collection of primary
documents published in 1976. See Jonathan Katz, Gay American History: Lesbians and Gay men in the U.S.A. (New York: Crowell, 1976).
32
When John D’Emilio published the first edition of Sexual
Politics, Sexual Communities in 1983, his analysis was affected—like the
work of Altman and Bell—by his participation in the gay
liberation movement.60 Still, in Sexual Politics, Sexual Communities,
D’Emilio was one of the first scholars to focus his attention on
the often neglected homophile organizations that were active in
the decade preceding the Stonewall Riots.61 D'Emilio's personal
connections to members of the Mattachine Society and the
Daughters of Bilitis provided him with access to a wide range of
primary sources including several personal archives. These
opportunities allowed him to revise and expand the existing
narrative that had been established a decade earlier by Altman,
Bell, and Teal. In addition, D'Emilio's thorough engagement with
secondary sources in sexuality and gender studies, and early
queer theory, make his relatively short text one of the most
important stepping stones in the development of this
historiography.62
60 John D’Emilio, Sexual Politics, Sexual Communities: The Making of a Homosexual Minority in the United States, 1940-1970 (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1983): p. vii.
61 D'Emilio, Sexual Politics, p. 2.62 D’Emilio clearly recognized the influence of queer theory on his own
research. D’Emilio, Sexual Politics, pp. 11 fn 4, 255.33
Sexual Politics, Sexual Communities is, however, not without its
faults. In the preface to the 1998 edition, D’Emilio acknowledged
that his sympathies rested with the early “militants.”63 This
bias is, perhaps, most visible in his dismissive discussion of
assimilationism. Although he addressed the rationale behind this
position, the focus of his book rested firmly on the more
militant individuals within the homophile movement including
Harry Hay, Frank Kameny, and Jose Sarria. However, this
relatively minor lapse in objectivity does not discredit his
historical contribution; rather, it illustrates the legacy of
liberationist thought and the protracted debates that
characterized the transitional period between the homophile
movement and gay liberation. The more compelling issue with this
piece comes from its methodological approach. Perhaps out of
necessity, given his source material, D’Emilio focused the bulk
of his narrative on individuals who held leadership positions
within the homophile movement. While he explained that individual
members often disagreed with those in leadership roles, he failed
63 D'Emilio, Sexual Politics, pp. vii, 261-262.34
to elaborate the content and nature of these disagreements in the
course of his analysis.
These issues aside, D’Emilio’s monograph engaged the
theories of identity and community that dominate contributions to
this historiography. The narrative is framed using the two major
concepts found in the book’s title: “sexual politics” and “sexual
communities.” The first of these conceptual topics, “sexual
politics”, is addressed in the monograph's opening chapter
wherein D’Emilio defined politics as “collective action for the
purpose of changing institutions, power relationships, beliefs,
and social practices at the national level and at the level of
family relationships, schools and neighborhoods.”64 According to
D’Emilio, the homophiles came to the conclusion that the only way
to provoke political change was to alter the public's perception
of homosexuality.65 To realize the ultimate goal of equality,
they broke away from the cultural minority theories advanced by
their early leaders to focus on “assimilationism.”66 After
64 D'Emilio, Sexual Politics, p. ix.65 D'Emilio, Sexual Politics, pp. 79-84.66 Although this debate is explained more comprehensively in section one,
“militant homophiles” believed that gay men and women constituted a minority community with inherent identifying characteristics. The “assimilationists” (the group that ultimately achieved a leadership role inthe movement) argued that gay men and women were fundamentally similar to
35
describing this fundamental shift in the movement's “sexual
politics,” D’Emilio turned his attention toward the theory of
community and concluded that the gay population not only
reflected characteristics similar to those of other minority
groups, but also interacted with other minorities to advance
their political goals. In a particularly revolutionary chapter
focused on the city of San Francisco, D’Emilio described the
formation and unexpected success of the Council on Religion and
the Homosexual in 1964.67 The CRH brought homophile activists
together with ministers from Methodist, Episcopal, Lutheran, and
Unitarian churches in an effort to educate the religious
community on homosexuality.68 By establishing a dialogue with a
larger and more respected minority group, conference organizers
hoped that the gay community might be afforded a degree of
the rest of the population and, therefore, capable of assimilation. D’Emilio considered this debate only in the context of the homophile movement in the United States, but it appeared in other countries as well. In Wiemar Germany, the activist Adolf Brand argued that homosexuality was an “ingrained cultural phenomenon” while the sexologist Dr. Magnus Hirschfeld explained that homosexuality was a natural sexual variation. Brand supported a community of “others”, while Hirschfeld believed that gaymen and women should be afforded a place in society no different from that of heterosexuals. See James D. Steakley, The Homosexual Emancipation Movement in Germany (New York: Arno Press, 1975); For a detailed consideration of a similar debate in Britain during the 20th century see Jeffery Weeks, Coming Out (London: Quartet Books, 1977).
67 D’Emilio, Sexual Politics, pp. 194-200.68 D'Emilio, Sexual Politics, pp. 199-200.
36
protection and legitimacy by association. The results of the CRH
were relatively minor when compared to the actions of the
religious community in cooperation with the civil rights
movement, but D’Emilio’s focus on such efforts both echoed and
critiqued some of Altman's statements on identity and community.
It was through this investigation of the gay community that
D'Emilio supported the theory that “gay identity is socially
constructed.”69 In his afterword he explained that this theory,
initially advanced by Altman, became the subject of a polemical
debate in the 1990s. On one side of this discussion stood the
“essentialists” who argued, “Whether or not a society has a word
to describe homosexuality, individuals who are primarily
attracted to members of the same sex are to be found in every
society, every culture, every era of human history.”70 The
“social constructionists” stood on the other side, arguing, “Only
in some societies and eras do desires coalesce into a social
role, or identity, that gets labeled homosexual, or gay, or
lesbian, and that corresponds to how individuals organize their
69 D'Emilio, Sexual Politics, pp. 254-256.70 D'Emilio, Sexual Politics, p. 254.
37
emotional, intimate and erotic lives.”71 As time went on, and
queer theory emerged as an academic discipline, the social
constructionists seemed to win out. At least, in academia. Thanks
to the work of Michel Foucault—who emphasized the importance of
sexuality discourse and the “repression hypothesis”—and Judith
Butler—who argued that gender was “performative” and malleable—
the dominant view of scholars today is that gender and sexuality,
indeed all forms of identity, are socially constructed.72 As
D'Emilio carefully explained, however, the legacy of essentialism
can be found today in the history of the gay rights movement. 71 D'Emilio, Sexual Politics, p. 254.72 D'Emilio, Sexual Politics, p. 255; Foucault showed that, far from repressing
their sexuality between the 17th and 20th centuries, Western society actuallyengaged in detailed scientific discourse on sex and sexuality. “We must... abandon the hypothesis that modern industrial societies ushered in an age of increased sexual repression. We have not only witnessed a visible explosion of unorthodox sexualities; but –and this is the important point–adeployment quite different from the law, even if it is locally dependent onprocedures of prohibition, has ensured, through a network of interconnecting mechanisms, the proliferation of specific pleasures and themultiplication of disparate sexualities.” Foucault, p. 49; Equally influential within the field of queer studies, Judith Butler explained thatgender and sexuality were performative constructs, “There is no gender identity behind the expressions of gender... identity is performatively constituted by the very 'expressions' that are said to be its results. Whatthey imitate is a phantasmic ideal of heterosexual identity...gay identities work neither to copy nor emulate heterosexuality, but rather, toexpose heterosexuality as an incessant and panicked imitation of its own naturalized idealization.” Judith Butler, Gender Trouble: Feminism and the Subversion of Identity (New York: Routledge): p. 25; A number of scholars followed Foucault and Butler, for a general overview of the history of queer theory see Annamarie Jagose, Queer Theory: An Introduction, Reprint (New York: New York Univ. Press, 2010); and Riki Wilchins, Queer Theory, Gender Theory: An Instant Primer (Los Angeles: Riverdale Avenue Books, 2014).
38
Such histories are often framed in such a way that they, for the
sake of clarity, illustrate the struggle of a minority community
to achieve social and/or political equality.73 As the first
example of an historical text that examined the gay rights
movement while remaining conscious of the theories advanced by
the initial reporters, Sexual Politics, Sexual Communities provided a
solid intellectual and historiographic foundation for the
literature that emerged after 1983.
Before we turn to some of the more recent contributions to
this historiography, one particularly large and persistent
oversight deserves attention. Among the monographs examined thus
far, the topic of lesbianism was addressed within them only
tangentially, with authors often confining the experience of
lesbians to discreet chapters.74 D'Emilio admitted that mapping
73 D'Emilio, Sexual Politics, p. 255. Many historical surveys (both sociocultural and political) published within the last three years, group gay men and women together as an identifiable minority. See Joey L. Mogul, Andrea J. Ritchie, and Kay Whitlock, Queer (In)Justice: The Criminalization of LGBT people in the United States (Boston: Beacon Press, 2011); Michael Bronski. A Queer History of the United States (Boston: Beacon Press, 2011). Histories that focus on gay men inurban environments, like Chauncey's Gay New York tend to follow a similar, ifoften unintentionally essentialist framework, see Nan Alamilla Boyd, Wide-Open Town: A History of Queer San Francisco to 1965 (Berkeley: University of CaliforniaPress, 2003); St. Sukie Croix, Chicago Whispers: A History of LGBT Chicago before Stonewall (Madison: The University of Wisconsin Press, 2012); and David Higgs, Queer Sites: Gay Urban Histories since 1600 (London: Routledge, 1999).
74 Don Teal prefaced his chapter on lesbianism by suggesting, “The events and developments of gay liberation/gay militancy that have to do exclusively
39
the involvement of lesbians in the gay rights movement was
comparatively difficult since homophile organizations were often
unofficially segregated by gender. Lesbians tended to form their
own organizations—such as the Daughters of Bilitis—which had
their own goals similar to, but ultimately different from, those
of male centric organizations like the Mattachine Society.75 More
generally, lesbians possessed their own art, literature, and bar
culture.76 A few years after D'Emilio published Sexual Politics, Sexual
Communities, Lillian Faderman turned the historical lens to the
often neglected subject of lesbianism and later published Odd Girls
and Twilight Lovers. Faderman began her book by endorsing the social
constructivist arguments advanced by Altman and D'Emilio. As she
explained: “[Before the 19th century] the concept [of love
between two women] barely existed...There was no such thing as a
with the lesbian, especially those which involve women's liberation, can bemost intelligently detailed only by the gay female. The following chapter is the work of several lesbians who are active in gay and women's liberation” The identities of these contributors are never revealed. Teal, pp. 179-222; D'Emilio confined his discussion of lesbianism to two chapterssee D’Emilio, Sexual Politics, pp. 92-125.
75 It should be noted that a small number of lesbians participated in traditionally male organizations like the Mattachine Society and some even served in leadership roles. Madolin Rieger was one of the first to propose the shift towards “assimilationism” in the Mattachine Society and Lilli Vincenz was an invaluable member of the Mattachine Society in Washington DC. D’Emilio, Sexual Politics, pp. 76-81; The Daughters of Bilitis took their name from Sappho’s lover. See fn 42; D'Emilio, Sexual Politics, pp. 92-93.
76 D'Emilio, Sexual Politics, pp. 96-100.40
“lesbian” as the 20th century recognizes the term; there was only
the rare woman who behaved immorally, who was thought to live
outside the pale of decent womanhood.”77 The emergence of a
lesbian identity and lesbian activism, was attributable “at least
partly to those sexologists who attempted to separate off women
who continued to love other women from the rest of human kind.”78
Eventually, lesbians who self-identified as such began to alter
the definitions developed by sexologists to serve their own
needs. It was from these alterations that an “accompanying
lifestyle, ideology, subculture, and institutions were
created.”79 Borrowing from both history and queer theory, Odd Girls
and Twilight Lovers explored the “metamorphoses and diversity of
lesbians as they related individually and/or collectively to
changing eras in American life.”80 Faderman based her broad
narrative on a titanic number of personal interviews and
unprecedented archival research.81 The result was one of the
77 Faderman explicitly notes that her research led her to support the social constructivists. Faderman, pp. 2, 8.
78 Faderman, p. 4.79 Faderman, p. 4. 80 Faderman, p. 7.81 Faderman interviewed 186 lesbians of varying ages and ethnic backgrounds
from “one who milks cows for a living in central California to another who is the primary heir of her grandfather, one of the richest oil men in West Texas.” Faderman, p. 7.
41
first pieces of serious scholarship that focused on the
experience of lesbians and their role in the gay rights
movement.82
Following in the footsteps of D’Emilio, Faderman, and the
initial reporters, the most recent group of historians to study
the gay rights movement emerged in the mid-1990s. Since their
debut, these men and women have filled gaps in the historiography
by examining (or reexamining) a variety of sociocultural and
political subjects related to homosexuality including the content
of homophile publications and the Stonewall Riots. In addition,
several authors produced biographical works that focused on the
lives of individual gay men. John D'Emilio's Lost Prophet, Justin
Spring's Secret Historian, Martin Meeker's Contacts Desired, and David
Eisenbach's Gay Power serve as representative examples of some of
the works in this expansive new group.
82 Faderman's monograph was closely followed by an equally impressive study ofworking class lesbians in Chicago. See Elizabeth Lapovsky Kennedy and Madeline D. Davis, Boots of Leather, Slippers of Gold: The History of a Lesbian Community (New York: Routledge, 1993); It should be noted here that the present study, for brevity and clarity, focuses its attention on the experience of gay men. Although gay men and lesbians often cooperated with one another, their subcultural differences and the divergent trajectory of their early organizations precludes direct and detailed attention in this piece.
42
The recent impulse toward biographical accounts in this
historiography has added a great deal of depth and complexity to
the existing narrative. Written by John D'Emilio, Lost Prophet is
centered on the life and tireless activism of Bayard Rustin. As a
pacifist, an African American, and a gay man living through the
20th century, Rustin was the focus of public animosity and an
agent of activism for much of his long and storied life. While
focused primarily on Rustin’s role and experiences in the
pacifist and African-American civil rights movements, Lost Prophet
provided D’Emilio with a new lens through which he reexamined
some of the historiographic debates he had commented upon decades
earlier in Sexual Politics, Sexual Communities. In Lost Prophet, D’Emilio
noted again the interconnected issues of identity and community,
and the ongoing debate between essentialists and social
constructionists.
Considering Rustin’s often conflicted relationship with his
identity, D'Emilio often returned to the subject of sexuality to
showcase the multifaceted persecution that haunted his engagement
with the pacifist and civil rights movements.83 Over the course
83 John D’Emilio, Lost Prophet: The Life and Times of Bayard Rustin (New York: Free Press, 2003): pp. 64, 88.
43
of his life, Rustin was often exiled from these social movements
when publicity surrounding his homosexuality threatened to either
discredit the leadership or the “legitimacy” of a particular
social movement.84 After wrestling with the adverse consequences
that came with his identification as a gay man, Rustin did his
best to temper, conceal, or otherwise sublimate his sexual
desires in order to participate in other social movements.85
Although he worked tirelessly with the gay rights movement in New
York City in his twilight years, Rustin believed—and often
explained in interviews—that sexuality was a private matter.86
In contrast to Rustin's often conflicted relationship with
his sexual identity, the professor, tattoo artist, and writer
Samuel Steward never sublimated his desires even when they placed
84 In spite of Martin Luther King Jr.’s own sexual indiscretions Rustin’s were regarded as “more severe” by many leaders in the civil rights movement. D’Emilio, Lost Prophet, p. 372-373; Slightly more sympathetic, that pacifist leader AJ Muste reflected that Rustin’s promiscuity was more damaging than his homosexuality, “We don’t have a problem of whether it’s agood idea in general to cut off people’s right hands. The problem is: ‘if thy right hand offends thee, cut it off.” D’Emilio, Lost Prophet, p. 115.
85 Although Rustin did not engage with the homophile movement, Richard Leitsch(the president of the New York Mattachine Society) stated that he admired his work. Leitsch sent a letter to Rustin's colleague Tom Kahn inviting himspeak at the 1965 ECHO conference. Kahn declined the invitation stating that he was “simply too busy at this time”. Richard Leitsch to Tom Kahn, July 7th, 1965.
86 D’Emilio, Lost Prophet, pp. 490-491.44
his life in jeopardy.87 Since he was relatively unknown during
his lifetime, it was easier for Steward to flout the sexual mores
of American society. With this in mind, Rustin and Steward had
radically different experiences living as gay men in the 20th
century. After acquiring relatively lucrative faculty positions
at Carroll College and later at Washington State University in
Pullman, Steward was able to spend time in Paris. While abroad,
he established invaluable connections with the Parisian
intellectual circle that formed around Gertrude Stein and Alice
Toklas.88 Steward's friendships, particularly with Stein,
allowed him to access a vibrant sociocultural community that
included individuals with a wide variety of sexual identities.89
The radical professor's international life as a “neo-decadent”—
modeled carefully after Joris-Karl Huysmans' Des Esseintes—
provided the historiography with a direct foil to the life of
87 Steward's many casual sexual liaisons led to life threatening medical conditions and, on more than one occasion, to violent beatings. Justin Spring, Secret Historian: The Life and Times of Samuel Steward: Professor, Tattoo Artist, and Sexual Renegade (New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2010): pp. 87-88, 132-141.
88 Spring, pp. 42-55, 119-127.89 In 1958, Steward was contacted by Rudolf Burckhardt, the literary editor of
the Swiss homophile publication Der Kreis. After their meeting, Steward began to regularly publish a variety of articles on sociology, fiction, and poetry until the periodical stopped printing in 1967. Spring, pp. 263-266
45
Bayard Rustin who devoted himself to political activism and
public agitation of the status quo.90
The biographies of Rustin and Steward provide divergent
microhistorical accounts of gay life in the 20th century, but
they share at least one similarity that has since served as the
subject of a monograph by the historian Martin Meeker. Many gay
men who grew up in the first half of the 20th century explained
that they were introduced to the concept of homosexuality through
the accidental or conscious discovery of related literature. For
Steward, sexual awakening came in the form of Havelock Ellis's
Studies in the Psychology of Sex, Volume II: Sexual Inversion.91 A precocious
youth, Steward quickly read Ellis' difficult medical text and
special-ordered other titles on sexuality written by Sigmund
Freud.92 This kind of personal research helped Steward, like
other gay men and women around the country, to throw off the 90 Steward frequently noted the influence of Huysmans's writings, particularly
Against the Grain (often translated as “Against Nature”), on his life and literary endeavors. “[Against the Grain's] sensuality and erudition fascinated me, enchanted me, for it described the life of the senses in terms of mystical philosophy; and the exploits of its hero, Des Esseintes, seemed torange from the ecstasies of a Medieval saint to the confessions of a modernsinner.” Spring, p. 25. In his later years, Steward withdrew from society into a kind of self-imposed exile modeled on Des Esseintes own seclusion. Spring, p. 371.
91 Havelock Ellis, Studies in the Psychology of Sex, Volume 2 Sexual Inversion (Online: ProjectGutenberg, 2004).
92 Spring, pp. 10-13.46
often crippling feelings of loneliness and isolation that came
with self-identification.93 Similarly, Bayard Rustin's first
boyfriend, Davis Platt, noted that he procured a copy of Richard
von Krafft-Ebing's Psychopathia Sexualis.94 Steward's fortunate
acquisition of an accepting monograph was, unfortunately, not
shared by Platt, who said after reading Krafft-Ebing, “It was
very hard to see how you could have integrity and be gay.”95
Considering the large number of homophiles and gay activists who
traced their awareness of homosexuality back to early texts
written by Havelock Ellis, Richard von Krafft-Ebing, Edward
Carpenter, and Radclyffe Hall, the influence of literature and
other printed materials in the construction of a gay identity and
community cannot be underestimated.96
In the course of his detailed survey of early gay
literature, homophile journals, mass market magazine articles,
93 Martin Meeker, Contacts Desired: Gay and Lesbian Communications and Community, 1940s-1970s (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2006): pp. 28-29.
94 Richard von Krafft-Ebing; D'Emilio, p. 69.95 Platt was particularly concerned with living a “double life” since he was
forced to hide his sexual identity from his conservative parents. D'Emilio,Lost Prophet, pp. 69-70. The term “closeted” had not yet permeated the gay argot. See Sedgwick, p.
96 Meeker emphasized the importance of sexology texts like Edward Carpenter'sThe Intermediate Sex, literature like Radclyffe Hall's The Well of Loneliness, and pulp novels like Lou Rand's The Gay Detective. Meeker, pp. 16-18, 26-27.
47
and a series of self-published travel guides, Martin Meeker
explained how these texts created national communication networks
that shaped gay male and lesbian identity, established a sense of
community, and contributed to the development of political
action.97 By readdressing common historiographic discussions from
a new perspective, Meeker provided a nuanced narrative of gay
life in the 20th century that departed from the Stonewall centric
models so often employed by the initial reporters. As Meeker
explained, “Contacts Desired examines sexual communication networks
as historical, changing entities that have gone through a radical
transformation over the course of the 20th century.” More
specifically, the book charted the transformation of gay identity
and community “from an era in which connecting was dominated by
networks that generally were hidden, coded, unstable, and small-
scale to another era when regular and important innovations in
networks introduced new means through which connections happened,
to an era in which new networks were public, candid, stable, and
large-scale.”98 At first glance, it may be assumed that such a
periodization would support the traditionally linear narrative
97 Meeker, pp. 10-13. 98 Meeker, p. 9.
48
established by the early historiography. Meeker, however,
clarified his position by explaining that “progress” was the
wrong word to characterize the history of the gay rights
movement, since it did not necessarily result in a more
fulfilling way of life for the people involved. Rather, the
increased visibility and connectivity that came with “liberation”
often damaged the close connections created by the smaller early
networks. This kind of reassessment of the linear periodization
from oppression to liberation, which began in the 1980s with
D'Emilio's revision of Altman, continues to define the
historiography today.
Equally concerned with revising the periodization, though
focused more on the political transformation of the gay rights
movement, historian David Eisenbach published a reexamination of
Stonewall and gay liberation in the same year that Meeker
published Contacts Desired.99 Eisenbach's monograph used numerous
interviews with former activists to map the history of the gay
rights movement from gay liberation, through the AIDS crisis, to
the present day. By framing his study around the development of
99 Eisenbach, pp. 103, 107.49
activist tactics like “zaps,” “raps,”, and “consciousness
raising,” Eisenbach effectively illuminated the often contentious
relationship between gay liberation organizations and other 1960s
groups like the Black Panthers and the Yippies. Finally, and
perhaps most importantly, Eisenbach's extended periodization
beyond the 1970s provided the historiography with crucial
research on the understudied links between gay liberation and the
present form of the gay rights movement.100 Although the goals of
the movement have recently turned to focus on marriage, Eisenbach
explained that the gay liberationists pioneered the tactical
repertoire that is still used today.101 Finally, Eisenbach echoed
parts of Altman's “end of the homosexual” theory when he stated,
“The gay rights movement...transformed America into a country
where most homosexuals could confidently abandon the closet and
identify themselves proudly as gay men to their families, friends
and co-workers. ...All Americans have benefited from the gay power
100 In his comprehensive study of the AIDs crisis and his biographical portrait of the openly gay politician Harvey Milk, the journalist Randy Shilts used a similar “extended” periodization of gay liberation which carried his narratives into the 1980s when both books were published. See Randy Shilts, The Mayor of Castro Street: The Life and Times of Harvey Milk (New York: St. Martin's Press, 1982); Randy Shilts, And The Band Played On: Politics, People, and the AIDS Epidemic (New York: St. Martin's Press, 1987).
101 Particularly the use of television and print media. Eisenbach, pp. 308-309.
50
revolution...”102 By tracing the development of the gay rights
movement from the 1950s through to the present, Eisenbach used
previously untapped sources to position Stonewall more
appropriately within the historical narrative, placing it between
the equally important early work of the homophiles in the 1950s
and 60s and the gay liberationists in the 1970s.103
The works that emerged from this collection of monographs
reexamined the theories developed by Dennis Altman and the
initial reporters in the 1970s. The biographies of Bayard Rustin
and Samuel Steward, among others, serve as microhistorical
portraits of men who struggled with their gay identities in
vastly different ways. Martin Meeker's detailed study of gay
literature engaged again with issues of identity and community by
arguing that communication networks helped to establish, at the
very least, a rudimentary sense of community among gay men as
early as the 1950s. Finally, David Eisenbach discarded the linear
periodization of the gay rights movement often found within the
work of the initial reporters and turned instead to the nuanced 102 Eisenbach, p. 309.103 Eisenbach's research revealed a lesser known effort by the NYPD and the
FBI to break up an elaborate extortion ring. The owners of the Stonewall Inn were under investigation for their participation in this ring when the police raided the bar on June 28th. Eisenbach, pp. 86-87.
51
and protracted periodizations emphasized by George Chauncey and
John D'Emilio. By following the historiography of the gay rights
movement in its rejection of Stonewall as the epicenter of
political action, and with the knowledge that gay activists
viewed themselves as part of an developing “social movement,” the
transformation of the gay rights movement from the 1950s to the
early 1970s can be constructed around a new framework that
borrows from the discipline of sociology.
------------------------
At the same time as the historiography of the gay rights
movement was developing, historians and sociologists, by
participating in a protracted interdisciplinary dialogue, sought
to explain how and why social movements appear and what, if
anything, they have in common with one another. In the last ten
years, social movement theory (SMT) has been used as a framework
to analyze and interpret a variety of popular movements, from the
French Revolution of 1789 to the more recent political upheavals
of the “Arab Spring.” To the uninitiated, the vast temporal range
covered by this body of literature may appear impenetrably
daunting, but after some time spent studying the bibliographies
52
of SMT texts one may begin to construct a short list of
foundational authors. Among the individuals who make up this
intellectual base, the sociologists Sidney Tarrow, Charles Tilly,
and Lesley Wood provide some of the best conceptual
introductions.
In his informative text Power in Movement, Sidney Tarrow began
with a concise discussion of “contentious politics,” of which
social movements are an important part. Contentious political
action, according to Tarrow, occurs when “collective actors join
forces in confrontation with elites, authorities, and opponents
around their claims or the claims of those they claim to
represent.”104 Although this may seem like a relatively obvious
definition, the concept of contentious politics provided a
framework that Tarrow used to prove seven related hypotheses. He
concluded that: 1. The interaction of multiple actors (from
activists to authorities) creates a climate favorable to the
emergence of social movements. The nature of this interaction
affects the nature of the social movement. 2. Under certain
conditions, temporary groups can have explosive effects on
104 Tarrow, Sidney G., Power in Movement Social Movements and Contentious Politics. 3rd ed(Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2011): p. 4.
53
powerful states and authorities. 3. Political opportunities and
threats create conditions for contentious politics. 4. One must
examine the context (historical, cultural, political, etc.) in
order to understand a particular social movement. 5. “Modular
performances and repertoires of collective action” (e.g. the
collective march and pamphleteering) spread internationally. 6.
Transnational networking and mobilization have had an
increasingly dramatic effect on social movements in the last
decade. 7. Social movements can occur everywhere.105 Sharpening
the focus of his structural lens, Tarrow offered a definition of
social movements by explaining that they “mount collective
challenges (by establishing a language of dissent through, for
example, their choice of clothing, slogans, and/or symbols), draw
on social networks, common purposes, and cultural frameworks, and
build social solidarity through connective structures and
collective identities to sustain collective action.”106 In an
effort to better understand the structure of these social
movements and their relationship to contentious politics, we may
105 Tarrow, paraphrased pp. 5-6.106 Tarrow, pp. 8-12.
54
turn our attention to Charles Tilly and Lesley Wood’s seminal
text Social Movements 1768-2008.
At the beginning of their book, Tilly and Wood clearly
explain that social movements are a distinctive form of
contentious politics. They state that social movements are
“contentious” because such movements make claims that, if
realized, would conflict with the interests of others; they are
“political” in so much that the government is often involved in
some capacity.107 Like Tarrow, both Tilly and Wood emphasized the
importance of the historical method to explain how, why, and to
what extent social movements incorporated certain features that
differentiate them from other forms of contentious politics. More
significantly, Tilly and Wood define a social movement as “a
particular, connected, evolving, historical set of political
interactions and practices. Social movements entail the
distinctive combination of campaign, repertoire, and WUNC
displays.”108 The first of these elements, “campaigns,” refers to
an organized and sustained public effort that makes collective
107 Charles Tilly and Lesley J. Wood, Social Movements, 1768-2008. 2nd ed (Boulder:Paradigm Publishers, 2009): p. 3.
108 Tilly, p. 4.55
claims on target authorities. The second element, “repertoire”,
refers to the employment of various forms of political action
including the creation of associations and coalitions, public
meetings, processions, rallies, demonstrations, and
pamphleteering. Finally, social movements engage in public
representations of WUNC, an acronym for “worthiness” (a sober
demeanor, conservative clothing, the presence of dignitaries),
“unity” (badges, banners, songs), “numbers” (headcounts,
signatures on petitions, messages from constituents), and
“commitment” (resistance to repression, sacrifice, subscription)
on the part of themselves and/or their constituents.109 Tilly and
Wood’s concise definition of a social movement, applied to
various movements within their own text, provides a tidy model
for the evaluation and analysis of movements across space and
time. However, as with any model that seeks to explain the
complexity of human behavior, social movement theory is not
applicable in all cases and it is hardly immune to criticism.
In 1989, the sociologist Verta Taylor criticized social
movement theorists for “neglecting sources of continuity between
109 Tilly, p. 4. 56
cycles of movement activity.”110 Taylor explained that scholars
who used SMT often preferred an “immaculate conception”
interpretation, which failed to account for the existence of
certain holding periods that often appeared within a given
movement’s historical narrative.111 Taylor referred to the social
movement organizations that persisted between periods of activity
as “abeyance structures” and explained how they sustained the
efforts of activists through periods not favorable to political
action. Taylor framed her arguments with resource mobilization
and organization theory, which claim that political opportunities
and an organizational base are major factors in the rise and
decline of movements.112 Borrowing from the work of Ephraim
Mizruchi—the sociologist who first observed the emergence of
abeyance structures—Taylor theorized that social movement
organizations which existed during hostile periods provided “a
measure of continuity for challenging groups” and themselves
contributed to social change.113 In the course of applying this
theory to the women’s movement in the United States, Taylor 110 Verta Taylor, "Social Movement Continuity: The Women's Movement in
Abeyance" American Sociological Review 54, 5 (1989): p. 762.111 Taylor, p. 761.112 Ibid.113 Taylor, p. 762.
57
identified a number of external and internal factors crucial to
the construction of an abeyance structure.
Externally, changes in “opportunity structures” (that
constrain and support the movement) and an absence of “status
vacancies” (to absorb dissident and excluded groups) contributed
to the construction of abeyance organizations. Internally, these
organizations were defined by temporality (a protracted existence
as a part of the movement), commitment, exclusivity,
centralization (power usually being invested in one or several
leaders), and a unique culture (this might refer to the
principles and tactical repertoire adopted by the
organization).114 Finally, Taylor explained that by “promoting the
survival of activist networks, sustaining a repertoire of goals
and tactics, and promoting a collective identity” abeyance
structures offered their participants a sense of “mission and
moral purpose” that persisted over time.115
When Verta Taylor published her piece she suggested the
possibility of adapting her theory to explain the early history
of the gay rights movement. I will demonstrate, however, that the
114 Ibid.115 Ibid.
58
gay rights movement is not, as Taylor claims, so firmly
applicable to her abeyance model. By definition, abeyance implies
the existence of a periodization that begins with political
mobilization, moves into a “holding pattern,” and reemerges only
when the time is right for “white hot mobilization.”116 The gay
rights movement roughly follows this pattern, but deviates from
Taylor’s model in several ways to forge a unique developmental
path.
This piece contributes to the existing historiography in
three ways. First, it uses Social Movement Theory to examine the
historical narrative of the gay rights movement using a new
methodological lens. By focusing this lens on the actions of the
Mattachine Society and, more generally, on the east coast
homophile organizations, we can identify a protracted development
from mobilization in the early 1950s, through “assimilationism,”
and eventually to “liberation” in the early 1970s. In the course
of this reexamination of the historical narrative, this piece
uses primary and secondary documents to focus on several often
ignored events that clearly illustrate a transition in the
116 Taylor, p. 76159
principles and tactical repertoire of the gay rights movement. By
adding the ECHO conferences, NACHO conventions, and ERCHO
meetings to the historical narrative this piece helps to discard
the primacy of Stonewall so often found in the early
historiography of the gay rights movement. Finally, and perhaps
more abstractly, this piece returns to the common historiographic
issues of gay identity and community. The organizations and
individuals studied in this piece wrestled constantly with the
idea and/or nature of “gay community” and the role of their
homosexuality in the construction of their personal identity.
60
Section One: Grey Flannel Suits-----------------------------------------------
The Birth of the Mattachine
In 1948, after attending a political rally for Henry
Wallace, the Progressive Party’s presidential candidate, Harry
Hay drafted a proposal that would become the founding document of
the Mattachine Society.117 Though no copy of this original
proposal exists, Hay composed a second proposal on July 9, 1950.
This document reads:
We, the androgynes of the world, have formed this responsible corporate body to demonstrate by our efforts that our physiological and psychological handicaps need be no deterrent in integrating 10% of the world's population towards the constructive social progress of mankind. ...We declare our aims to be to effect socially, economically, politically, and morally, the integration of the best interests of the androgynous minority with the common good of the community in which we live.118
117 It is important to note that the Mattachine Society was not the first gay organization in the United States. In the 1920s, the Society for Human Rights was formed in Chicago where members met and discussed issues relatedto their homosexuality. Unfortunately, the Society came to an abrupt end following a raid by the Chicago Police Department. Barry Adam, The Rise of a Gayand Lesbian Movement (New York: Twayne Publishers, 1995): p. 46. Hay's original proposal referred to the group as “Bachelor's for Wallace”. Later,he devised the name “Mattachine” from a collection of words used in Europe that referred to a kind of jester who danced and often cross dressed. At the time, the name was a clever way to mask the society's purpose. See Hay,pp. 47-50; Stuart Timmons, The Trouble with Harry Hay: Founder of the Modern Gay Movement (Boston: Alyson, 1990): pp. 135-137.
118 Hay, pp. 64-65; Hay's use of the 10% figure was informed by the sex and sexuality studies published in the 1940s by Dr. Alfred Kinsey and his team of researchers. See Alfred C. Kinsey, Wardell Baxter Pomeroy, and Clyde E. Martin. Sexual Behavior in the Human Male (Bloomington, Ind.: Indiana University Press, 1998); Timmons, p. 134.
61
Hay continued his proposal by outlining several ways the
proposed “corporate body” could realize its mission of “minority
integration” while simultaneously protecting the anonymity of its
members and its collective identity.119 Although Hay's use of
certain words and phrases such as “physiological and
psychological handicaps,” “androgynous minority,” and
“integration” were later revised and in some cases rejected, the
basic tenants contained in this founding document lay beneath the
homophile movement for the duration of its existence. As one of
the largest homophile organizations in the country active in some
capacity from the 1950s to the 1970s, the Mattachine Society was
a microcosm of the homophile movement that reflected the
principles and tactical repertoire of the larger movement.
The most revolutionary part of Hay’s proposal was his use of
the term minority. Found within the mission statements of many
homophile organizations in the early 1950s, minoritization was an
essential organizing tactic for the homophile movement.120 By
119 After enumerating a complicated hierarchical structure of ranks and privileges in paragraph 8, Hay explained that “Membership lists shall be planned with the optimal anonymity in mind...” Hay, p. 74.
120 Hay, p. 5.62
arguing that they shared a “psychological makeup” and a
“colloquial language,” Hay claimed that gay men constituted “an
oppressed cultural minority.”121 While the cultural elements of
this vaguely essentialist theory would lose favor in the
contemporary discourse on (homo)sexuality, the assertion that gay
men constituted a kind of cultural minority population was a
radical idea that persisted into the 1960s and was even partially
resurrected in the 1970s. As late as 1983, Hay supported his
theory by explaining “We are a separate people with, in several
measurable respects...a different consciousness which may be
triggered into being by our lovely sexuality.”122 The idea that a
minority could seek integration with—but simultaneous distinction
from—a majority population allowed the early Mattachine Society
to link its efforts to the struggles of women and African
Americans.123 Drawing inspiration from Hay’s theory, the
Mattachine Society defined its organizational purpose in a
simplified form in 1951. The new proposal stated: “The purpose of
121 Hay, p. 52.122 Hay, p. 6.123 Hay, p. 43; Craig M. Loftin, Letters to ONE: Gay and Lesbian Voices from the 1950s and
1960s (Albany: State University of New York Press, 2012): pp. 5-6; Steve Valocchi, “Individual Identities, Collective Identities, and OrganizationalStructure: The Relationship of the Political Left and Gay Liberation in theUnited States” Sociological Perspectives, 44:4 (2001): pp. 451-455.
63
the society...[is] to unify isolated homosexuals, educate
homosexuals to see themselves as an oppressed minority, and lead
them in a struggle for their own emancipation.”124 While the
people’s will unify would decline over the next three years,
integration and emancipation would drive the homophile movement
throughout the 1950s and 60s.
In an effort to encourage commitment from its members,
while simultaneously avoiding threats posed by a hostile majority
and pressing forward in its goals of unification, integration,
and emancipation, the Mattachine Society established an exclusive
and centralized organizational structure. The format of weekly
meetings, outlined in the society’s founding documents, was
inspired by Alcoholics Anonymous.125 Although self-affirmation of
gay identity was rare at the time, the small group of Society
members met regularly in an apartment or other private space to
discuss issues related to homosexuality often prompted by
questions composed in advance by the leadership.126 Looking back
on these early meetings, Hay remembered, “Nobody in our group
124 Hay, p. 43.125 Hay, p. 65.126 One of the first discussion groups opened with the question “Should we be
considered individuals or be considered a group?” Hay, p. 83. 64
ever seemed to know gay people in California, let alone LA...It
was always somebody else, not present, who'd had this homosexual
experience or who knew someone somewhereelse who had.”127 To
encourage these reluctant members and protect them from
persecution and/or arrest, these “discussion groups” were often
deliberately kept small.
Further reflecting this penchant for exclusivity and
secrecy, the early Society was constructed within a cover
organization known as the Mattachine Foundation.128 The Foundation
provided the Society with an easy way to assess the honesty and
earnestness of potential members without jeopardizing the safety
of its discussion groups. After completing a vetting process
administered by the Foundation, applicants were invited to join
the “closed” meetings of the Society.129 Over the next three
years, however, this exclusivity of the Society gradually slipped
away. By 1953, the Mattachine Society had grown beyond the city
limits of Los Angeles to include more than 100 affiliated
127 Hay, p. 77.128 Although a number of scholars have discussed this relationship between the
Foundation and the Society, the FBI's reports offer more detailed accounts of the Society's early organizational structure. See Report, SAC San Francisco to Director of FBI, “The Mattachine Foundation aka The MattachineSociety,” 7/14/1953, 100-403320-obscured.
129 Ibid.65
discussion groups in Southern California alone. By the end of the
decade, the Society had established chapters across the country
in San Francisco, Los Angeles, New York, Boston, Denver,
Philadelphia, Detroit, Chicago, and the District of Columbia.130
In the 1960s, as persecution of its members waned, the
exclusivity of the Mattachine Society disappeared.131
As the Society expanded across state lines, its centralized
power structure encountered sharp criticism from its members.
Inspired by the Communist party, the leadership had been
organized according to a “pyramid of five 'orders' of membership,
with increasing levels of responsibility as one ascended the
structure and with each order having one or two representatives
from a higher order.”132 The “fifth order” of this pyramid,
responsible for the direction of policy, consisted of Hay and the
society’s founding members including the fashion designer Rudi
Gernreich, Dale Jennings, Bob Hull, Chuck Rowland, James Gruber,
130 The rapid expansion was attributed to the success of the Dale Jennings trial. One of the original Mattachine members, Jennings was the victim of police entrapment and successfully acquitted in July of 1952 with legal assistance provided by Society. The publicity of the trial led to increasedinquiries into the society by both the media and the general public. Adam, p. 68; D'Emilio, Sexual Politics, pp. 71, 79.
131 Simon Hall, “The American Gay Rights Movement and Patriotic Protest,” Journal of the History of Sexuality, 19:3 (September 2010): p. 540.
132 D'Emilio, Sexual Politics, p. 64; Hay, pp. 70-75.66
and Konrad Stevens.133 In 1953, Hay and the Fifth Order came under
attack for their past (and, in some cases, present) association
with the Communist Party of the United States of America.134
Although Hay had severed his ties with the CPUSA in 1951 to
protect the Society from precisely such charges of conspiracy,
pressure from individuals both inside and outside the
organization forced Hay and many Fifth Order members to
relinquish their positions.135 As James Gruber explained, “We were
aware that Communism had become such a burning issue. We all
felt, especially Harry, that the organization and its growth was
more important than any of the founding fathers...We had to turn
it over to other people.”136 At the Society’s annual conference in
1953, new leaders filled the spaces left in the Society's Fifth 133 See photograph134 FBI files from this period contain reports of numerous investigations into
the potential ties between Mattachine and the CPUSA. Ultimately, the Bureaufound no evidence of “communist infiltration” and closed its investigation of the Mattachine Society at the end of 1953. Memo, SAC Los Angeles to Director of FBI, “The Mattachine Society,” 12/31/53, 100-403326-7; Accusations of this kind were not uncommon. Indeed, gay men had a long history of associating themselves with the often more sympathetic left wing. Gert Hekma, Harry Oosterhuis, and James Steakley, “Leftist Sexual Politics and Homosexuality,” Journal of Homosexuality, 29:2-3 (1995): pp. 1-40.
135 D'Emilio, Sexual Politics, pp. 69, 75-76; Timmons, p. 174-180; The FBI's investigation of the Society and its influence on the leadership change hasbeen covered in detail by Douglas M. Charles, “From Subversion to Obscenity: The FBI's Investigations of the Early Homophile Movement in the United States, 1953-1958,” Journal of the History of Sexuality, 19:2 (2010): pp. 262-287.
136 Gruber as quoted in D'Emilio, Sexual Politics, p. 80.67
Order. While it bore the same name, the Mattachine Society that
emerged from the 1953 conference was decidedly different from the
organization that Hay had founded three years earlier.
At the same conference that ushered in new leadership,
members of the Society began to question some of the theories
that appeared in Hay's founding proposal. Los Angeles Mattachine
members Kenneth Burns and Marilyn Reiger, together with Hal Call—
a member from San Francisco—used the organization's perceived
connections to communism to propose a new constitution that
distanced the Society even further from its founding fathers. At
a constitutional convention held later in May of 1953, Reiger
critiqued Hay's concept of cultural minoritization, stating, “We
know we are the same...no different than anyone else. Our only
difference is an unimportant one to the heterosexual society,
unless we make it important.”137 Reiger explained that true
equality could be achieved only “by declaring ourselves, by
integrating...not as homosexuals, but as people, as men and women
whose homosexuality is irrelevant to our ideals, our principles,
our hopes and aspirations.”138 Reiger's comments were vehemently
137 Reiger as quoted in D'Emilio, Sexual Politics, p. 79138 Ibid.
68
supported by Hal Call and other delegates at the May convention.
One man said, “Never in our existence as individuals or as a
group should we admit to being a minority. For to admit being a
minority we request of other human beings that we so desire to be
persecuted.”139 This differed markedly from Hay's theory. While
both the original proposal and the position of the new leadership
emphasized “integration,” the form of that integration was
fundamentally different. Hay had envisioned minority integration
that maintained a gay collective identity, while Reiger and her
colleagues proposed complete assimilation.140
With wide support for their new platform, Burns, Reiger, and
Call turned their attention to the “communistic” structure of the
139 Anonymous delegate as quoted in D'Emilio, p. 79 fn 11140 A recent article published by Martin Meeker investigated why the
Mattachine Society willingly accepted this new ideological platform. He proposed that the shift allowed the Society to present a “respectable” public face while maintaining its political activism. This theory would be consistent with the abeyance structure model. Martin Meeker, “Behind the Mask of Respectability: Reconsidering the Mattachine Society and Male Homophile Practice, 1950s and 1960s,” Journal of the History of Sexuality 10:1 (2001):pp. 79-82; D'Emilio, Sexual Politics, pp 75-91; Chuck Rowland, reflecting ruefully on the shift towards assimilation explained, “[The new leadership]wanted a gay organization but they didn't want to be hurt. They didn't wantto be secret, but they also didn't want to be open. It was a ridiculous contradiction.” Rowland as quoted in Timmons, pp. 179-180; This turn towards “respectability” can be identified within the pages of the homophile publications that existed at the time. In an advertisement for TheMattachine Review that appeared in an issue of ONE Magazine. The ad billed the review as a periodical “...for thinking adults. Will NOT appeal to readers seeking sensationalities.” See ONE, 5:4 (April 1957): p. 24.
69
Society and ultimately determined to abandon it altogether.
Structurally, the post-1953 Society discarded its centralized
structure in favor of loosely managed local chapters headed by an
elected Coordinating Council. This council exercised limited
authority over organizational policy while regional branches
known as “area councils” were established to elect representative
officers to the Coordinating Council.141 Unsurprising, given their
popularity, Burns, Reiger, and Call were all elected to positions
on the new coordinating council.142
The goals, principles, and tactics of the organization also
witnessed great changes. The new leadership explained, “The sex
variant is no different from anyone else except in the object of
his sexual expression.”143 Adopting the promotion of this theory
as their new raison d'être, the Society embarked on an extended
campaign to persuade “experts” to endorse the homophile movement.
To accomplish, the Society encouraged its members to engage with
the general public and “aid established and recognized
scientists, clinics, research organizations, and
141 D'Emilio, p. 80. 142 Ibid.143 Note here the medicalization of terminology from “minority” to “sex
variant”. D'Emilio, Sexual Politics, p. 81; Adam, p. 69.70
institutions...studying sex variation problems.”144 As one
pamphlet—published shortly after the 1953 conference—emphasized,
“Homosexuals are not seeking to overthrow or destroy any of
society's existing institutions, laws or mores, but to be
assimilated as constructive, valuable, and responsible
citizens.”145 After three years of fighting for unity,
integration, and political mobilization as a “distinct cultural
minority” that possessed its own collective identity, the
Mattachine Society repositioned itself as an organization focused
on public education and assimilation whose members deserved
neither special treatment nor discrimination.
The activists who had joined the early Society were, at
best, discouraged by this new direction and over the next three
years, membership declined. While one hundred delegates had
attended the annual conference in 1953, representing discussion 144 Kenneth Burns as quoted in D'Emilio, Sexual Politics, p. 81. Building upon
these new goals, the homophile organization ONE Inc., established in 1952 by former members of the Mattachine Society, set up an “institute of homophile studies” in 1956 that focused its attention on public education. It operated continuously into the early 1990s offering classes in “homophile studies” taught by credentialed scholars from the fields of history, philosophy, psychology, biology, anthropology, sociology, and religion. The syllabi and research produced by the institute and its graduates has been preserved in a volume edited by the institute's directorDorr Legg. See W. Dorr Legg, Homophile Studies: In Theory and Practice (San Francisco: ONE Institute Press, 1994): pp. 317-326
145 Pamphlet as quoted in D'Emilio, Sexual Politics, p. 84.71
groups from around the country, the conference held in May of
1954 brought in only forty-two delegates. In 1955, that number
had fallen even further.146 During the next ten years, this
decline was arrested and reversed as the Mattachine Society began
to transform into a more active organization, developing both new
principles and tactics.
The early Mattachine Society, organized by Harry Hay and his
friends, expressed many of the characteristics of an abeyance
structure. Emerging as it did during the particularly hostile
period of the “Lavender Scare,” the Society adopted a centralized
leadership structure that drew its strength and security from an
exclusive and committed membership. Although the idea of a gay
“cultural minority” was ultimately discarded, the common mission
and moral purpose of homosexual equality bound together the
Society's early discussion groups. As time went on, the
Mattachine Society (and the movement more generally) would change
its tactical repertoire but the underlying mission of equality
would remain unchanged.
-----------------------------------------------
146 D'Emilio, Sexual Politics, p. 86-87.72
The Dissolution of the National Organization
In 1954, the clinical psychologist Sam Morford met Evelyn
Hooker at a psychiatric convention. At the convention, the pair
discussed Hooker’s theory that homosexuality was not
developmentally inferior to heterosexuality; rather it was a
natural sexual variation.147 In the course of their conversation,
Hooker explained that much of her revolutionary research was
based on data that she had collected with the help of the
Mattachine Society.148 It was with this conversation in mind that
Morford traveled to San Francisco in May of 1955 to meet with Hal
147 D'Emilio, Sexual Politics, p. 90; Sharon Valente, “Evelyn Gentry Hooker (1907-1996)” in Vern L. Bullough, Before Stonewall: Activists for Gay and Lesbian Rights in Historical Context (New York: Harrington Park Press, 2002): pp. 344-350.
148 Evelyn Hooker was one of a number of medical professionals who used the Mattachine Society's reliance on experts to collect data for their researchprojects, but Hooker was far more sympathetic to the homophile movement than many of her colleagues. Perhaps the worst offenders in the field of psychology were Drs. Irving Bieber and Charles Socarides who both theorizedthat homosexuality was an illness that could be cured. See Irving Bieber, Homosexuality: A Psychoanalytic Study (New York: Basic Books, 1962) and Charles W. Socarides, The Overt Homosexual (New York: Grune & Stratton, 1968);Both Bieber and Socarides remained opposed to the removal of homosexuality from the DSM in 1973 for the duration of their lives. In Bieber's obituary,Dr. Judd Marmor explained that, “It was one of Dr. Bieber's characteristicsthat he found it very hard to admit his mistakes. I think he made only one major error --his insistence that homosexuality was an illness, and for that he took a lot of abuse in his later years, which I'm sure was very painful for him. But he never backed down.” Steven Lee Myers, “Irving Bieber, 80, a Psychoanalyst Who Studied Homosexuality, Dies” The New York Times, August 28, 1991. For a general overview of the medical research into homosexuality and its transformation over the last few decades see Simon LeVay, Queer Science: The Use and Abuse of Research into Homosexuality (Cambridge, Mass.:MIT Press, 1996).
73
Call and Don Lucas about the possibility of forming a chapter of
the Mattachine Society in New York. The pair agreed and, together
with Tony Segura and several other friends, Morford founded the
New York Chapter of the Mattachine Society in December of 1955.149
The New York Chapter was popular and relatively successful in its
efforts to educate the public and assist “experts” with important
psychological and medical research. In 1956, the Mattachine
Society's Coordinating Council recognized the accomplishments of
its newest New York chapter by granting it an area council
charter, which gave it loose administrative control over
discussion group activities in the east. Two years later,
according to the San Francisco Area Council's Board of Directors,
it hosted “the most successful Convention from an educational and
prestige point of view that the Society has ever had.”150 By the
1960s, the New York chapter was the second largest in the country
and maintained a membership roughly half the size of the San
Francisco chapter.151
149 D'Emilio, Sexual Politics, p. 89-90. 150 David L. Daniels, “Homophile Diaspora,” ONE Magazine, 9:6 (June, 1961): p.
9.151 Ibid.
74
Unfortunately, the Mattachine Society's expansion brought
new difficulties and, in 1961, the Coordinating Council voted
unilaterally to “divorce itself from its area chapters.”152
Although members of the New York Area Council were frequently at
odds with the national leadership of the Mattachine Society over
the dispersal of membership dues and the direction of policy,
they were, nonetheless, shocked by the announcement.153
Ultimately, the decision was endorsed by the San Francisco and
the Denver Area Councils with the Boston and Chicago area
councils “indicating their technical assent.” When asked by ONE
Magazine to comment on what appeared to be the official
dissolution of the Mattachine Society after ten years of
operation, the New York Area Council issued the following
statement:
This revocation of all Area Council Charters came as a complete shock to all members. This now leaves the members
152 Daniels, p. 5.153 Daniels, p. 9; Individual members had been writing in to MSNY to register
their concern with MSNY's relationship to the national organization for at least a year prior to 1961. As early as 1960, Albert de Dion, Chairman of the New York Chapter explained that it was the domineering leadership on the west coast that was the primary problem, “Believe me when I say that all we in New York want to do is to be able to cooperate more closely in everything we do for the Society. But when it seems that one man [Hal Call]runs an organization it is certainly disheartening. In fact it is because of this fact that many persons in New York do not wish to remain associatedwith the Society.” Albert de Dion to Dale Lane, July 26, 1960.
75
without the right of voting in their organization. We therefore feel that the purpose for breaking up the Mattachine Society be left to the Board to explain. At present it is not apparent to us in New York as to the real purpose of this action. The New York Area Council has therefore decided to continue our work as an independent organization as recommended by the Board of Directors. And we will continue to be called the Mattachine Society, Inc. of New York. The continuation of this name was deliberate. Each member still feels that the original aims and purposes of the Mattachine Society are valid. Despite this separation of local organizations from the National Office the name rightfully belongs to all those who helped to make it as successful as it is today. Furthermore the Mattachine Society, Inc. of New York is a respectable organization in the eyes of manylay and professional groups to change our name at this time would have greatly hindered our work.Besides planning for the usual goals that derive from our aims and purposes we will also add that of achieving some sort offederation between the various groups. The Mattachine Society, Inc. of New York is on record favoring such a formation.154
The Coordinating Council in San Francisco responded to
ONE's request for information regarding the dissolution of the
national organization with a lengthy statement justifying their
decision. They explained that, on March 13th 1961, the Mattachine
Society had a running debt of $3,500 left over from Convention
expenses in September of 1960.155 This debt could not be balanced
by the roughly $3000 the Society received from its collection of
154 Emphasis mine. Albert de Dion as quoted in Daniels, p. 6. 155 Daniels, pp. 7-8.
76
$10 annual dues from its roughly 300 members.156 Concerned they
would be required to provide more of their own money to keep the
Society out of bankruptcy, the Coordinating Council decided that
their only course of action was to disband the national
organization: “It was simply this: the expense of trying to
maintain an organization on a national scale without the funds to
do so [was untenable]. The solution was also readily apparent—to
revoke the Area Council Charters, but at the same time to
encourage them to maintain an active but independent
existence.”157 The Council went on to emphasize, “There was no
schism here. It was simply seen that it is better to stay
together in spirit than in name.”158 By providing seven
justifications for its course of action, however, the statement
revealed that there were a number of underlying issues with the
national Mattachine Society beyond merely financial woes.
The Council members explained that dissolution “minimized
the legal liability of the Mattachine Society;” the National
Office was tired of being held responsible for the needs and
156 Daniels, p. 8.157 Ibid.158 Emphasis theirs. Ibid.
77
actions of chapters across the country. “With its limited
resources, distance involved, and communication problems, the
board felt the area councils must become their own independent
units, shouldering their own responsibilities.” Second, the
Council members felt that dissolution would “minimize the threat
of involvement with criminal elements.” By breaking into smaller
groups, chapters could guard against “unscrupulous or criminal
elements” that solicited funds for or claimed to represent the
Society without its endorsement. Third, dissolution facilitated
the incorporation of more homophile groups. The Council explained
that national policy was, “at best difficult to formulate and
implement” while “strict control was downright impossible.”
Independent groups could work with the Mattachine Society toward
the same goals while simultaneously satisfying the needs of their
local gay populations. Fourth, by breaking into a number of
independent groups, the Society could dispel accusations that any
one city was the “national headquarters of sex deviates.” Fifth,
the Council believed that smaller independent groups could better
monitor their own finances. The Council cited inconsistency in
financial record keeping as one of the major problems of national
78
administration. Sixth, smaller groups allowed for the localized
dispersal of group funds. Finally, by dissolving the national
organization, the Mattachine Society could reorganize itself as
“a tax exempt foundation” that would be eligible for grants in
aid.159
Despite these relatively sensible justifications, the New
York Chapter contested the dissolution of the national
organization and, disregarding vehement protests from the
Council, it continued to call itself The Mattachine Society of
New York (or MSNY).160 Although in its initial response to the
dissolution letter MSNY had pledged to continue its mission of
public education and collaboration with experts, the power vacuum
created by the dissolution of the national organization left MSNY
in the unique position to organize its proposed “federation” of
east coast homophile organizations. Over the next five years,
MSNY helped to lead The Mattachine Society of Washington (or
MSW), The Janus Society (formerly the Mattachine Society of
Philadelphia), and The Daughters of Bilitis (or DOB) away from
the assimilationist principles and tactics that had been
159 Daniels, pp. 10-11. 160 Daniels, p. 11.
79
developed in 1953 and back towards the kind of political
organization that Harry Hay had envisioned in his founding
proposal.161
Following the dissolution of the national organization, MSNY
adopted a new constitution on March 14th 1962. In spite of MSNY's
new position of power on the east coast, the structure,
principles, and tactics of the organization remained the same on
paper. The preamble of the organization's new constitution
emphasized the importance of assimilationism: “That all mankind
may live without fear and prejudice regardless of their sexual
orientation; that all may respect the integrity of the
individual; that all may become cognizant of themselves, their
place as an integral part of the community, and be provided with
the means of social adjustment; that all may live, act, and work
together in a spirit of brotherhood, equality, mutual
understanding and self-respect; we do therefore declare and
establish...the Mattachine Society of New York.”162 The document
161The Mattachine Society Area Councils in Denver, Detroit, and Boston dissolved due largely to internal disputes and ineffective leadership. Mattachine Midwest (based in Chicago) continued to operate for several years following the dissolution of the national organization and played a role in MSNY's federation.
162 Emphasis mine. The Constitution and By-Laws of the Mattachine Society Inc,of New York, March 14, 1962, p. 1
80
went on to summarize the organization's goals and tactics more
substantively by drawing heavily from the national organization.
The purpose of the Mattachine Society is to promote educational research projects in all phases of sexual deviation; to aid sexual deviants against discrimination andhelp them in their adjustments to society; to educate the general and professional members of the public concerning the problems of the sexual deviant.163
The new constitution also laid out several provisions that
established a centralized leadership structure and expected
“purposive commitment” from its members through the payment of
annual $10 membership dues.164 Leadership of the organization was
consolidated in the authority of executive officers including an
elected president, a president-elect, a secretary, and a
treasurer. The president-elect, secretary, and treasurer were
elected annually so that the “president-elect” became the
Society's serving president one year after his official election.
In addition to these roles, the constitution called for the
creation of a “Board of Directors.” This Board consisted of the
immediate past-president, the president, the president-elect, the
secretary, the treasurer, and four directors who were elected by
163 Ibid. p. 1.164 Ibid. p. 2.
81
the organization's general membership at an annual meeting. A
tight-knit group of men (and women), the board made
“recommendations of any nature which would further the purpose of
the Society to the membership,” reviewed all actions of the
executive officers between meetings, and performed “all other
duties as required by law.”165 Put another way, the board
determined when and where the Society would hold its meetings, it
set the agenda of said meetings, and it had significant powers of
oversight.166 When MSNY was not planning and holding its regular
meetings, it was far from idle. The organization maintained an
office that fielded daily calls from individuals around the
country, published a newsletter that featured articles on the
homophile movement, and sponsored lectures for both its
membership and the general public.167
165 Ibid. pp. 2-3.166 Ibid. p. 4.167 The call logs from MSNY's office serve are a practical snapshot of the
myriad services provided by the organization. Many callers (some from Canada) requested referrals to medical and legal professionals, help for ongoing research projects, the date of the next meeting, and the location of other homophile organizations. A number of calls are simply annotated, “Wanted to speak with another homosexual.” A particularly representative log from August 2nd 1965 between 6:45pm and 7:45pm included annotations for four phone calls and two walk ins. One walk-in requested a legal referral while the other was a “Man who was entrapped [and] came in to tell of his dismissal”. The phone calls included the annotations, “Requested care package (information on the Mattachine Society); Requested medical advice. Referred him to medical doctors. Wanted to know about ingesting semen;
82
Although MSNY was one of the largest Mattachine chapters on
the east coast and thus wielded a considerable amount of
authority in the homophile movement into the 1970s, the
foundation of the Mattachine Society of Washington, DC (or MSW)
in 1961 by Franklin Kameny Jr. helped to set in motion a
protracted, but concerted, shift away from the goals and tactics
of assimilationism.168 Due in part to Kameny's own background—he
was fired from the US Navy's Map Service in 1957 when his
superiors uncovered his homosexuality—MSW focused on public
policy and political activism from its inception.169 The
constitution of MSW was adopted on August 27th 1963, just one
year after MSNY's own constitution, and it clearly outlined the
organization's unique focus:
It is the purpose of this organization to act by any lawful means:1. To secure for homosexuals the right to life, liberty, andthe pursuit of happiness, as proclaimed for all men by the Declaration of Independence, and to secure for homosexuals
Wanted to know about West Side discussion group tonight; Wanted to get someone to share his apartment, Said we couldn't help.” The Mattachine Society of New York, Call Logs, August 1965 through December 4, 1965.
168 MSNY claimed a membership of 412 with over 1000 subscribers to its newsletter by 1965. J. Hudson Snow to Mattachine Society of New York, August 16, 1965; New York Mattachine Society to The Pig in the Poke, March 1, 1964.
169 Kameny's story has been reproduced in a number of texts. For a general summary see, David Johnson, “Franklin E. Kameny (1925-)” in Vern L. Bullough, Before Stonewall: Activists for Gay and Lesbian Rights in Historical Context (New York:Harrington Park Press, 2002): pp. 209-218.
83
the basic rights and liberties established by the word and the spirit of the Constitution of the United States of America; 2. To equalize the status and position of the homosexual with the status and position of the heterosexual by achieving equality under the law, equality of opportunity, and equality in the society of his fellow men, and by eliminating adverse prejudice, both private and official; 3. To secure for the homosexual the right, as a human being, to develop and achieve his full potential and dignity, and the right, as a citizen, to make his maximum contribution to the society in which he lives; 4. to inform and enlighten the public about homosexuals and homosexuality; and, 5. To assist, protect, and counsel the homosexual in need.170
MSW's constitution may have reflected certain elements of
assimilationism (particularly in its commitment to “enlighten the
public”) and adopted a roughly similar organizational structure
to MSNY, but its principles clearly rested in a new kind of
political advocacy guided by a more militant (“by any lawful
means”) tactical repertoire.171 Presumably to protect the
identities of its members given its radicalism, MSW's
constitution also dictated the destruction of membership
applications following induction into the Society and provisions
for the use of pseudonyms in correspondence and at meetings.172
170 Emphasis mine. The Constitution of the Mattachine Society of Washington, (August 27, 1963): p. 1
171 The organizational structure followed MSNY's presidential system and the MSW constitution also included an article that authorized the collection of$10 annual membership dues. Ibid., pp. 5-6
172 The constitution stated that, “no last names shall be reported in the 84
One of the smallest homophile organizations on the east coast
with more than 25 members, MSW's exclusivity and strong
leadership, vested in Dr. Frank Kameny Jr., allowed it to
successfully target the federal government's discriminatory
policies. In the mid 1960s, these actions combined with the
superior numbers of MSNY, to lead the homophile movement on a
quest for social change and political reform.
Focusing on the histories of MSNY and MSW may seem limiting
when one considers the many homophile groups that operated around
the country during the 1950s and 60s. However, focusing on the
east coast allows one to more clearly analyze the homophile
movement throughout the next decade, particularly its shift away
from assimilationism and abeyance and toward radicalism and a
full-fledged social movement.173 Breaking away from abeyance,
however, proved difficult, and the constitutions of MSNY and MSW
reflect a certain amount of continuity with the earlier
Mattachine Society. Centralized leadership, while sacrificed at
the national level in the early 1960s, remained at the local Minutes nor used in any meeting by any person.” Ibid., p. 2.
173 In 1964, the Mattachine Review composed a relatively lengthy article that summarized the activities of homophile organizations around the country. “Other Organizations and Their Work” The Mattachine Review, 10:4-9 (April, 1964).
85
level in the form of powerful presidents and directing boards.
Members of both organizations remained committed (by evidence of
their payment of dues and participation in regular meetings) to
the principles of the Mattachine Society. At least in theory,
MSNY and MSW maintained a relatively exclusive membership
insulated from the meddling of outsiders. Although the seeds of
change were being planted by both MSNY and MSW, the general
message of assimilation remained the guiding “cultural” principle
and constant refrain of many homophile organizations into the
1960s. Few events served as a better example of this slow change
from abeyance to a full-fledged social movement than the ECHO
conferences of the 1960s.
-----------------------------------------------
The ECHO Conferences
On January 26, 1962, representatives from four of the major
homophile organizations on the east coast met in Philadelphia to
organize a loose affiliation known as the East Coast Homophile
Organizations, or “ECHO.”174 At this organizational meeting,
174 D’Emilio stated that ECHO was founded in January of 1963, but the histories of ECHO that were distributed at the 1965 conference state that the affiliation was actually organized in 1962. Joan Frazer, “A History of ECHO” ECHO Conference Brochure, (1965): p. 6; D'Emilio, Sexual Politics, p. 161.
86
delegates from the Mattachine Society of New York, the Mattachine
Society of Washington, the Janus Society, and the Daughters of
Bilitis decided to sponsor yearly conferences at which their
members and the general public could meet and discuss issues and
subjects related to the homophile movement. The ECHO conferences,
held annually from 1963 through 1965, brought delegates from
several states together in an effort to establish a public
discourse on the subject of homosexuality and standardize the
homophile movement's principles and tactics. With their fusion of
assimilationist rhetoric and increasingly vocal political
activism, the ECHO conferences are some of the clearest examples
of the transition from abeyance to a consolidated social
movement.175
Initially, ECHO was based on a series of largely unofficial
agreements between its affiliate organizations. At a monthly
planning meeting held on November 6, 1965, riding on the success
175 These conferences have been marginalized in the existing historiography and appear only sporadically in D’Emilio’s seminal text and other monographs that address the homophile movement. D'Emilio, Sexual Politics, p. 161; Eisenbach, p. 35, 40; In his otherwise comprehensive global history ofthe gay rights movement from 1869 to the present, historian Neil Miller does not include any reference to the ECHO conferences. See Neil Miller, Out Of The Past: Gay and Lesbian History from 1869 to the Present (New York: Vintage Books,1995).
87
of their first two conferences, the affiliate organizations
convened to codify the process of ECHO membership and conference
organization.176 The report produced by this meeting explained
that ECHO’s purpose was to help its affiliates “improve the
(condition, position, status—word not decided upon) of the
homosexual in America.”177 To do this, it sought to “establish a
formal mode of effective communication among affiliated
organizations and other interested participants,” “engage in
promoting the establishment and development (and assistance to)
[of] other homophile organizations,” “develop suitable means of
communication and contact with the public,” and “promote a
unified front of action.”178 Following this mission statement, the
report outlined qualifications for the affiliation of new
organizations. It explained that applicants had to be based in
New England, New York, New Jersey, Pennsylvania, Maryland,
Delaware, the District of Columbia, West Virginia, and Virginia.
“In the absence of a closer regional grouping” organizations east
176 Nancy Clark, Report of ECHO Meeting (November 6, 1965): pp. 1-2.177 Ibid., p. 1. The uncertainty in terminology here reflects the careful
grooming of the homophile movement's principles and political goals. 178 Ibid. These guidelines were laid out earlier in brochures provided to
conference participants. Joan Frazer, “A History of ECHO,” ECHO Conference Brochure (1964): p. 3.
88
of the Mississippi could apply for a special membership.”179 In an
effort to foster cooperation between homophile organizations
outside of its official geographic coverage, ECHO clearly noted
that “qualified non-member organizations were allowed to
participate in ECHO programming.”180 Finally, meetings of ECHO
affiliates were to be held monthly rotating between the home
cities of its affiliates so as not to favor any one organization
over another.
The inaugural general conference, based on the vague theme
“Homosexuality: Time for Reappraisal,” was held on August 31 and
September 1, 1963 at the Drake Hotel in Philadelphia.181 The
conference represented many firsts for both the affiliation and
the larger homophile movement. Although the west coast homophile
organization ONE Inc. sponsored educational conferences beginning
as early as 1955, ONE admitted that the 1963 ECHO conference was
the “first time in the history of the homophile movement [that]
four independent, autonomous homophile organizations combined
179 Ibid. p. 1.180 Organizations needed to possess a constitution and bylaws, have a total
membership of ten or more, hold periodic elections of officers by members, and provide its members with the ability to initiate action. Finally, and perhaps most importantly, organizations needed to hold as their primary goal “improvement of the status of the homosexual” Ibid.
181 See photo appendix.89
their funds, personnel, and talent to set up a conference
program.”182 The New York Times even carried an advertisement for the
conference, allegedly “the first time...in which the word
'homosexuality' prominently appeared” within its pages.183 But the
1963 conference was not without controversy. As the Drake Hotel
started to receive inquiring telephone calls, the management
attempted to back out of the reservation stating, rather
amusingly, that “We can't have sex discussed at this hotel.”184
Only the threat of legal action, and ECHO's full payment for all
related expenses in advance, ensured that the conference could
continue on schedule.185 Drawing heavily from the Mattachine
Society's reliance on respected professionals, the conference
182 Donald Webster Cory and John P. LeRoy “The ECHO of a Growing Movement” ONE, 12:1 (January 1964): p. 25; For detailed accounts of ONE's annual “Midwinter” educational conferences see Legg, pp. 18, 19, 29, 33, 36, 38, 40,42, 46-49; Dorr Legg, “One Midwinter Institute: A Report by W.Dorr Legg”ONE, 9:4 (April 1961): p. 5.
183 Cory, The ECHO, p. 25; “Advertisement,” New York Times (September 23, 1963):p. 26; In spite of the NYT's announcement, media attention was minimal at the inaugural conference. A press gathering scheduled for the night before the conference was attended by only one freelance journalist. Radio coverage was slightly better. Albert Ellis, Wainwright Chuchill (both conference presenters), Jaye Bell (from DOB) and Robert King (from MSW) alldiscussed the conference on various radio programs. Jody Shotwell, “ECHO Convention '63,” The Ladder, 8:3 (December 1, 1963): 8.
184 Cory, The ECHO, p. 25. 185 Ibid.
90
centered around a number of speeches delivered by psychologists,
academics, and religious officials.
The first day of the conference commenced with a morning
session that included presentations by the popular author Donald
Webster Cory, the sexologist and 1960s renegade R.E.L. Masters,
and Reverend Edward Lee of the Holy Trinity Episcopal Church.186
In the space of just thirty minutes, Cory covered the “Emergence
of the American Homophile Movement” and summarized some of the
greatest difficulties it had encountered. According to Cory, the
movement was often hindered by a lack of consistent national
leadership, “deep-going emotional problems faced by homosexuals,”
a belief in media attention “regardless of the image being
conveyed”, the hasty acceptance of experts “posing as authorities
[on homosexuality],” and goals that were either “too trivial and
short-range, or utopian and long range.”187 Cory explained that
such difficulties made it nearly impossible to maintain a high
level of interest over a long period of time. On the other hand,
he noted that the movement had placed homosexuality on the public
radar as a “legitimate social protest.” Moreover, homophile
186 Ibid.187 Cory, The ECHO, pp. 25-26.
91
organizations were being taken seriously by medical professionals
and academics and the movement had started to receive legal
assistance of the American Civil Liberties Union.188 Put another
way, Cory offered an image of homophile organizations still
firmly confined to the role of abeyance structures. R.E.L.
Masters, who could not attend the actual conference, had his
address read to the audience in which he noted the importance of
establishing a community for all homosexuals, rather than only
those individuals who could easily assimilate with the rest of
society. Masters criticized the homophile movement's obsession
with public image and emphasized the need for a strong and
unified “community” that accepted “effeminate homosexuals,”
transvestites, and transsexuals.189 Masters seemed to support
Hay's 1951 theory of cultural minoritization. During the lunch
hour, Reverend Lee discussed the relationship between the church
and homosexuality, but the content of his address has been lost
in the pages of history.190
188 Cory, The ECHO, p. 25.189 Ibid. 190 Cory, The ECHO, p. 26; Shotwell, p. 8. Neither Cory nor Shotwell examined
Lee's address beyond its title and the 1963 conference proceedings were notrecorded.
92
In the afternoon, the focus of the conference turned to
homosexuality as a “research taboo” with a panel moderated by Dr.
Wardell Pomeroy, a psychologist who worked in close collaboration
with Dr. Alfred Kinsey. In addition to Dr. Pomeroy, the panel
included several experts from the fields of psychiatry and
psychology, including the psychoanalyst Dr. Harold Greenwald, the
clinical psychologist Dr. Robert Harper and the prison
psychologist Dr. Irving Jacks.191 Unfortunately, as with Reverend
Lee's speech, the content of this panel was not recorded. Despite
this absence, however, the great number of psychologists and the
presence of religious officials allows us to reasonably conclude
that the reliance on respected experts was alive and well on the
east coast.
At the evening banquet, Dr. Albert Ellis gave the final
address. Ellis, “one of the best-known figures in the field of
sex research and widely known for his liberal views,” adopted in
his speech what was, in the 1960s, a standard “defense” of
homosexuality. As he stated, “The homosexual is wrong: he is
191 Cory, The ECHO, p. 26; Although only the panel's moderator, Pomeroy found himself answering most of the questions directed at the panel by the audience. Shotwell, p. 9.
93
neurotic (if not borderline psychotic), fixated unrealistically
on self-defeating behavior, a short-range hedonist, and is unable
to come to grips with reality in the most self-fulfilling manner,
but he still has an inherent right to pursue this self-defeating
course in life without calumny and punishment by his fellow
men.”192 As they had so often before in their history, the largely
homosexual audience sat in strained silence and listened to Dr.
Ellis describe the nature of their psychological illness and the
possibility of treatment. At the end of what Jody Shotwell
described as an “hour of castigation,” however, one member of the
audience rose and shouted, “Any homosexual who would come to you
for treatment, Dr. Ellis, would have to be a psychopath.” This
justifiable criticism received a round of applause.193
On the second and final day of the conference, the lesbian
writer Artemis Smith, though scheduled to present on “The
Homosexual in Heterosexual Literature,” instead read a section of
her forthcoming novel that contained homosexual themes. MSW's
president, Frank Kameny Jr., who ONE Magazine proudly billed as “a
scientist who holds a doctorate from Harvard,” explained the
192 Ibid.193 Shotwell, pp. 9-10.
94
contentious relationship between the federal government and the
homosexual.194 After a brief question and answer period, the local
Philadelphia attorney Charles Roisman described the kind of
discrimination homosexuals faced from police and other law
enforcement agencies. Finally, the 1963 conference closed with an
address by Wainwright Churchill, another psychoanalyst, who
explained the need for an “objective appraisal of
homosexuality.”195 With the possible exception of Ms. Smith, the
speeches during this second day seem to have partially inspired
the theme for ECHO's second conference held in 1964.
The delegates who attended the Philadelphia conference were,
on the whole, encouraged by the results and started to organize a
second conference to be held in the District of Columbia on
October 10th and 11th 1964. From its inception, the second ECHO
conference encountered considerable opposition and animosity due,
at least in part, to lingering suspicion leftover from the
“Lavender Scare” that had gripped the federal government and the
District during the 1950s and early 60s.196 The Washington Post, ONE
194 Cory, The ECHO, pp. 26-27.195 Ibid.196 Johnson, pp. 182-190.
95
Magazine, and The Ladder each reported on the difficulties ECHO
members encountered when they attempted to book a hotel for the
conference.197 In an early report composed by the affiliation’s
organizational committee, delegates explained that the
International Inn refused outright to admit the conference.
Discouraged, but unwilling to admit defeat, they drew up a
contract with the Gramercy Inn, which was subsequently canceled
in August when the purpose of the conference was made clear to
the hotel management by ECHO representatives.198 At this point,
ECHO hired a lawyer to dispute the cancellation and sue for
compensation.199 A second contract was secured in September with
197 Jean White, “Homophile Groups Argue Civil Liberties,” The Washington Post (October 11, 1964): p. B10; “East Coast Homophile Organizations Discuss Civil Rights,” ONE 12:11 (November, 1964): p. 26. Warren Adkins, Kay Tobin,and Barbara Gittings, “Report ECHO '64: Parts 1-3” The Ladder 9:4 (January 1965): p. 5; Warren Adkins, Kay Tobin, and Barbara Gittings, “Report ECHO '64: Part 4” The Ladder 9:5/6 (February/March 1965): pp. 13-17; The irony that ECHO faced discrimination for attempting to hold a conference on civilliberties and social rights was not lost on Robert King, the coordinator ofthe event, who noted, “The banquet halls of the International Inn, the Gramercy Inn, and the Manger Hamilton Hotel refused to serve us because there might be some homosexuals present. The Washington Daily News, the Evening Star, even the liberal Post refused to advertise this conference because it pertained to homosexuality. If this is not discrimination, then what is?!” Robert King, “Keynote Address,” 1965 ECHO Conference Proceedings (1965): p. 3
198 Gramercy Inn later withdrew its cancellation; “East Coast Homophile Organizations Preconference Report” in "Resources for Research on Regional Organizations in the 1960s ," The Rainbow History Project. http://www.rainbowhistory.org/pdf/echo1964.pdf (accessed March 17, 2014).
199 Ibid; The ECHO treasury report submitted after the conference indicates a total of $1000 for legal representation, but also lists a “Manger-Hamilton settlement (in the hands of attorney)”. The amount of that settlement was
96
the Manger-Hamilton Hotel, but this too was canceled less than
three weeks before the conference was scheduled to begin.
Finally, the Sheraton-Park Hotel, the largest hotel in the
District, promised that it had a “liberal policy” and agreed to
accommodate the conference.200 With reservations finally
confirmed, one hundred delegates from all four affiliated
organizations converged on the capital dressed in their trademark
suits and pencil skirts.201
Taking as its theme “Homosexuality: Civil Liberties and
Social Rights,” the 1964 conference played into the hands of
Frank Kameny and the growing political consciousness of the
homophile movement. The conference opened on Saturday October
10th with a keynote address by the conference's coordinator who
spoke under the pseudonym “Robert King.”202 King set the tone for
the next two days with a moving speech in which he demanded not disclosed. Frank Kameny, East Coast Homophile Organizations Treasurer'sReport (April 3, 1965).
200 Preconference Report. 201 See photo appendix.202 King explained, “I could not dare to talk to you today under any other
name but Robert King, because this is not my real name. Were I to use my real name, tomorrow I would probably not have a job...I stand here, even so, in the fear that someone I know from the world of the heterosexual may walk in that door and I will be discovered. You say that as a spokesman forthe homosexual, as a member of the homophile movement, I should not hide behind a pseudonym. I say that when the day comes that I don't have to hidebehind a pseudonym our job will be done.” King, p. 5.
97
social and civil rights for homosexuals. He began with a simple
reiteration of the purpose of ECHO conferences: “What we say and
do is, for the most part, fresh and new, no matter how old the
problems may be. What we are meeting for today is to make people
aware that what we are seeking is the right to live our lives as
decent, respectable human beings.”203 He continued by offering
some of his personal history as a “criminal and a liar.”204 King
explained how he had been forced, like so many before and after
him, to perjure himself in order to serve in the armed forces. He
said that the homophile movement “Made me realize that I should
not have to settle for a second-class citizenship. It focused my
attention on the fact that the defeatist attitude of 'what will
be, will be' need not be.”205 Finally, and perhaps most
importantly, King defined the homophile movement and placed ECHO
within it: “The homophile movement is a world-wide social
phenomenon in which individuals and groups working through the
media of mass communication and private endeavor are seeking to
change the archaic public and private attitudes currently held on
203 King, p. 1204 Ibid.205 King, pp. 3-4.
98
the subject of homosexuality—in short, working to improve the
status of the homosexual in his society. ECHO is one of the
leaders in this movement.”206 After noting the absurdity of the
government's discriminatory policies regarding its homosexual
employees, King offered an ominous and prescient warning of
future radicalism:
We want reasonably and sanely to confer with the powers thatbe to set right these wrongs. We will bend over backward to meet them on their ground. But, if we are not heard, we willfight. Our demands are not unreasonable. We are not asking for favors or special treatment, just the rights, and all the rights, afforded the heterosexual. We are still in the asking stage. We will soon reach the demanding stage.207
Finally, King turned his attention to the tactics of the
homophile movement: “We try to strengthen ourselves so that our
cries and pleas will be a little louder. As individuals, we join
groups. The groups try to enlarge their membership and to
increase the circulation of their publications. They try to
collect funds to finance their work. Then the groups themselves
get together and form affiliations such as ECHO...Our work has
206 King, p. 2. The international elements of this movement will be explored briefly in the concluding sections of this paper.
207 King, p. 4.99
just begun.”208 For King, expanding the scope of this mobilization
was the first step toward creating a larger social movement.
Following these rather incredible opening remarks, Julian
Hodges addressed the audience urging its members to political
action. He explained that supporting sympathetic political
candidates in existing parties was the easiest way to prompt
social and political change: “The failure of the homophile
movement in the past has been the failure to recognize political
facts in this country—the failure to recognize that successful
political activity can be achieved only through work with an
established political organization.”209 To combat the pessimistic
view that an alliance with existing political institutions was
impossible, Hodges used the African American civil rights
movement as an example and noted that grass roots organization
was the only way for a minority to achieve meaningful political
change. “I suggest to all of you, Democrat or Republican, that
you go back to your community, that you go back to your own
precinct, that you go back to the established political club of
208 King, p. 5.209 Julian Hodges, “Politics is Everybody's Business,” 1965 ECHO Conference
Proceedings (1965): p. 12.100
your choice and joint it.”210 Following Hodges, Monroe H.
Freedman, an associate professor of law at George Washington
University, briefly summarized the political circus that had
developed around the Charitable Solicitations Act (a DC area law
that would have required individuals and groups who sought to
raise funds to register with the local government) and
Congressman John Dowdy's numerous, but ultimately unsuccessful,
attempts to crush the Mattachine Society of Washington.211 After
Freedman concluded his presentation, the conference broke for
lunch.
At lunch, a telegram was read that extended warm wishes from
Donald Webster Cory and praised conference attendees' efforts to
encourage unity and cooperation among homophile organizations.212
Over the lunch hour, Hal Witt--a local lawyer and a member of the
210 Ibid., p. 13. 211 “Congressman Dowdy's avowed purpose was to change the act in such a way as
to make it impossible for the Mattachine Society of Washington to collect funds in order to carry out its civic activities...” Later, he concluded, “It is just not that big a deal for the Congress of the United States to beconcerned with. What other motive [Dowdy] might have about it I don't know.But it is simply incredible to me.” Monroe H. Freedman, “Official Discrimination Against the Homosexual: The Broader Context,“ 1965 ECHO Conference Proceedings (1965): pp. 15-21. John Dowdy represented Texas' seventhdistrict in the House of Representatives as a democrat from 1953 to 1967. His motives for attacking the Mattachine Society of Washington are still unclear.
212 “East Coast Homophile Organizations Discuss Civil Rights,” p. 27. 101
National Capital ACLU's executive board--delivered an address in
which he commented more generally on sexuality and the law,
noting that “sexual behavior which takes place in private between
consenting adults” should not concern the federal government.213
Witt explained that the British Wolfenden Report had arrived at a
similar conclusion, as evidenced by the statement: “Moral
conviction or instinctive feeling however strong is not a valid
basis for overriding the individual's privacy and for bringing
within the ambit of the criminal law private sexual behavior of
this kind.”214
The conference concluded its first day with an afternoon
session featuring short speeches by the lawyers S.S. Sachs, J.W.
Karr, and G.R. Graves. All three men focused on legal intricacies
and the smaller ways in which the homophile movement could combat
discrimination in employment and defeat anti-sodomy laws. 213 Hal Witt, “Luncheon Address,” 1965 ECHO Conference Proceedings (1965): p.
23.214 Witt, p. 33-34; Witt concluded his address with a call to action that,
perhaps inadvertently, resurrected Hay's minority theory, “It seems to me that your willingness to come together and raise these questions is an important first step...Your recognition of your situation as a minority group with a grievance and a right to be heard is another important step. For you do have a right to air your grievances, and not merely to ask for favors or for charity.”; Witt's relatively radical statements were includedin both The Ladder and ONE Magazine. Adkins, “Report ECHO '64: Parts 1-3,” p. 8; ONE remarked, “this is not a new idea but one seldom hears it presented so clearly and so forcefully as it was by Mr. Witt.” East Coast, p. 27.
102
Following these speeches, Frank Kameny moderated a legal panel,
comprised of Sachs, Karr, and Graves, as well as Hal Witt and
David Carliner (the chairman of the National Capital Area ACLU).
During the panel session, Hal Witt encouraged the movement to
adopt more direct tactics, “Homosexuals,” he declared, “ought to
stand up to be counted.”215 He hoped that homophile organizations
would consider engaging in more public media activities so that
American society could see them for the “responsible citizens”
that they were. A cocktail hour and dinner followed this final
panel, with David Carliner delivering a concluding address that
summarized much of what had been discussed during the day.216
On Sunday, a “rather expensive brunch” was followed by a
panel on “religion and the homosexual” that included the minister
from River Road Unitarian Church, an instructor in Moral Theology
from DeSalles Hall, the director of the Washington Counseling
Service at Foundry Methodist Church, the Rabbi of Temple Sinai,
the minister from the Church of the Holy City, and the minister
from the Davies Memorial Unitarian Church.217 This panel discussed
215 East Coast, p. 28. 216 David Carliner, “The Government Regulation of Sex,” 1965 ECHO Conference
Proceedings (1965): pp. 55-58; 217 East Coast, p. 28; Adkins, “Report ECHO '64: Parts 1-3,” pp. 17-18.
103
and debated, in a fair bit of detail, the contentious
relationship between religious institutions and homosexuals.218
The Methodist and Unitarian ministers were accepting and
encouraged audience members to join their congregations while the
minister from the Church of the Holy City explained that he had
not yet taken a position on the issue and required more
information before he could make a proper decision. The Catholic
instructor in Moral Theology and the Jewish Rabbi were generally
dismissive, respectively advocating either celibacy or
conversion. Rabbi Lipman was particularly intransigent in his
condemnation, and echoed Dr. Ellis' address at the 1963
conference when he noted that homosexuality was inferior to
heterosexuality.219 Lipman's comments on the utility of conversion
therapy particularly enraged Frank Kameny, and he protested
vehemently from the audience,
“Rabbi Lipman made the statement that he, in dealing with homosexuals, has an aim: it is not a happy homosexual but a conversion to heterosexuality. Implicit in this is the idea that the homosexual state is somehow inferior to the heterosexual. This is the view which the homosexual
218 Adkins, “ Report ECHO '64: Parts 1-3,” pp. 18-19.219 Joan Fraser, “Alienation of the Homosexual From the Religious Community: A
Panel Discussion,” 1965 ECHO Conference Proceedings (1965): pp. 61-62, 66; Adkins, “Report ECHO '64: Parts 1-3,” p. 19; East Coast, pp. 28-29.
104
community is not prepared to accept any more than you would be prepared to be converted to Christianity.”220
The crowd responded with loud applause.221 Closing out the
second ECHO conference, Dr. Kurt Konietzko and Frank Kameny
engaged in a short debate on the homophile movement's tactical
repertoire. Konietzko argued that public education had the
potential to solve the larger underlying problems of sexual
repression while Kameny drew inspiration from the civil rights
movement and noted, “The Negro tried the education/information
approach for 90 years and got almost nowhere. In the next ten
years, by a vigorous social-protest, social-action, civil-
liberties type of program, he achieved in essence everything for
which we have been fighting.”222 While this debate seemed to
illustrate again the shift towards direct political action and
away from Mattachine assimiliationism, Kameny and Konietzko
ultimately agreed that both an educational and a legislative
approach were necessary to combat discrimination.223
220 Fraser, “Alienation,” p. 70. 221 Adkins, “Report ECHO '64: Parts 1-3,” p. 19. 222 Adkins, “ECHO '64: Part 4,” p. 14; The importance of this debate was not
lost on the editors of The Ladder who included both a lengthy summary in their official report on the conference.
223 Dr. Kurt Konietzko and Dr. Frank Kameny, “Debate Homosexuality: Legislation vs. Education” 1965 ECHO Conference Proceedings (1965): pp. 73-82; Adkins, “ECHO '64: Part 4,” pp. 13-17;East Coast, p. 29.
105
The third, and final, ECHO conference was held on September
24 through September 26 1965 at the Barbizon-Plaza Hotel in New
York City.224 In an effort to avoid the kind of conflict with
hotels that had occurred in the past, Dick Leitsch, conference
coordinator and president of the Mattachine Society of New York,
personally wrote letters to each hotel under consideration that
clearly indicated the purpose of ECHO. He explained, “Before you
even consider accepting the Conference, we would like to make it
clear that homosexuality will be the topic under discussion and,
in addition to lawyers, psychologists, ministers, and legislators
present, there will also be some homosexuals.” He concluded the
letter with a glib remark aimed at the District of Columbia: “We
are quite confident that New York does not share Washington's
provinciality, but we can afford to take no chances on a last-
minute cancellation as these conferences are heavily
advertised.”225 It appears as though at least one hotel refused
take ECHO's reservation, Leitsch managed to secure the Barbizon-
Plaza Hotel early enough to devote more time to finding potential
speakers and advertising the event. Unlike the conferences in
224 See photo appendix.225 Dick Leitsch to Mr. Bradley, Hotel New Yorker (March 5, 1965).
106
1963 and 1964, advertisements were accepted by The Village Voice and
The New Republic in addition to various homophile publications.226
However, as with everything else about the conference,
advertisement requests grated against American sexual mores and
were often rejected. The National Review wrote back “Inasmuch as
National Review is a family type magazine we very much regret that
we are unable to accept your ad.”227
Jody Shotwell, an ECHO coordinator, noted that media
coverage of the event was unprecedented in spite of some minor
setbacks. As press coverage of the conference spread, however, an
unknown source leveled a threat against the conference, resolving
to “break up that queer convention.”228 Fortunately, if
unbelievably, two NYPD officers were dispatched to protect the
226 East Coast Homophile Organizations, “Minutes of the First Meeting,” (February, 6th 1965). p.1; Glenn Raymond to Classified Advertising Department, The New Republic, (March 12, 1965); Dick Leitsch to Sam Overton, The Village Voice, (March 11, 1965).
227 Howard W. Long, Jr., Advertising Director, National Review to Glenn Raymond, Advertising Director, East Coast Homophile Organizations (March 26, 1965).
228 Press release, “The 1965 Conference of the East Coast Homophile Organizations”, undated. This was not the first time that an ECHO conference had been threatened. The 1964 conference had been disrupted briefly by a Neo-Nazi who attempted to deliver a box of Vaseline marked “Queer Convention” to Rabbi Lipman. Fortunately, an undercover policeman (possibly an FBI agent) who had been sent to monitor the conference broke his cover and arrested the man. Adkins, “Report ECHO '64: Parts 1-3,” pp. 20-22.
107
proceedings. Whoever made the threat, however, did not deliver on
his promise and the “queer convention” continued on schedule
without incident. On Friday evening, members of the media were
invited to attend a press conference, but few arrived due to a
newspaper strike.229 On Saturday, CBS Television arrived during
the afternoon and evening sessions to film a lecture, the
cocktail party, and the banquet. On Sunday, some of the
proceedings were filmed by ABC-TV, and the New York Herald Tribune
sent a reporter to interview Richard Leitsch.230 Conference
attendance was the highest yet with 150 delegates from homophile
groups as far away as San Francisco. Officers from the Mattachine
Society of Florida, Mattachine Midwest (a Chicago group), the
Society for Individual Rights in San Francisco, the Demophile
Society of Boston, in addition to the ECHO affiliates were all
present.231 The conference was also the longest so far, covering
three days with cocktail receptions, dinners, and presentations
229 In spite of the strike, Shotwell noted that “The press conference on the Friday evening preceding the ECHO conference was well attended. Although none of the major news media was represented on that occasion, there were reporters from various other periodicals, college publications and minor newspapers.” Jody Shotwell, “East Coast Homophile Organizations Discuss theGreat Society,” Tangents, 1:2 (November 1965): p. 10
230 Ibid.; Phyllis Lyon and Del Martin, “The Homosexual Citizen in the Great Society” Ladder, 10:4 (January 1966): p. 9.
231 Shotwell, “East Coast” p. 10; Lyon, p. 10. 108
from a variety of “experts” including authors, editors,
educators, clinicians, and psychologists. The theme of the 1965
conference, reflecting the persistence of assimilationism, was
“The Homosexual Citizen in the Great Society”.
As they had at previous conferences, presenters emphasized
the evils of discrimination, the importance of legal reform, and
recent medical research on homosexuality. Following opening
remarks by Dick Leitsch, the first day began with an address by
Dr. Isador Rubin, the editor of Sexology Magazine, who condemned the
sexually repressive nature of society by noting its damaging
impact on psychosexual development. Rubin explained,
The damage done by the present social and legal setup is that, far from preventing the rise of homosexuality, it gives rise to the homosexual as a separate creature. A youngman faced with homosexual impulses, feels anxiety, and later—especially if these are realized—increased guilt, leading to self-ostracism. He no longer feels “good enough” to associate with “normal” people. From this attitude it is only one step to choosing, if he can find it, a society of those who share his “vice” and whose members are too often united in self-contempt and shame… But our laws are not specifically anti-homosexual. They spring, rather, from an entire antisexual bias.232
232 I. MacA, “Highlights from East Coast Homophile Organizations Conference Speeches,” Tangents, 1:2 (November 1965): p. 12.
109
Author James Collier echoed Rubin in his criticism of American
society and its sexual repression noting specifically that only
frank discussion of sex and sexuality could help homosexuals and
the American public in their quest to construct Johnson's “Great
Society.” Dr. Hendrik Ruitenbeek was the last to present before
the lunch break with an address entitled “The Homosexual's Search
for Identity.”233
When presentations resumed in the afternoon, Gilbert Cantor,
an attorney with the ACLU and CORE, again connected the homophile
movement to the African American civil rights movement. “I see a
clear parallel between the Negro and the homosexual in the area
of civil rights. The homosexual faces less discrimination in
education, housing and employment, but at the cost of concealment
—which is impossible for the Negro. The homosexual, however, in
another sense has fewer rights— it is no crime to be a Negro.”234
Cantor, drawing from both Rubin and Collier, believed that both
systems of persecution stemmed from an underlying “spectre of sex
fear” that seemed to permeate American society.235 Dr. Clarence
233 Ibid.234 Ibid.235 Lyon, p. 11
110
Tripp, Dr. Ernest van den Haag, and Dr. Frank Kameny, finished
the conference's first day with speeches that covered a wide
variety of topics and perspectives. Tripp provided, for the first
time at an ECHO conference, practical “marital” and relationship
advice for homosexual couples.236 Both Van den Haag, a professor
at NYU, and Kameny discussed the tactics of the homophile
movement, but disagreed fundamentally on what form activism
should take. As Van den Haag explained, “Picketing will do no
good. With the Negro groups these demonstrations were to protest
non-institution of the rights given them by law. But the rights
and laws came first. The homosexual must fight first for law
reform.”237 Kameny, though partially sympathetic, ultimately
disagreed and explained that picketing, when other methods
failed, could draw the attention of the government and the
American public, but he admitted, “We did not enter into
picketing easily and continue to use it as a last resort.”238 The
author and antiwar activist Paul Goodman closed the day by
explaining that a Great Society was impossible without first
236 Lyon, pp. 11-12.237 Shotwell, “East Coast”, p. 12; Lyon, p. 11. 238 Shotwell, “East Coast”, p. 12; Kameny received shouts of “bravo!” and a
standing ovation for his advocacy of more direct action. Lyon, p. 9.111
establishing a “decent society.” As he said, “I submit that in a
decent society, which we do not now have, there would be
one...And what would the moral attitude of a decent society be? I
would like to think it would be something like mine: Let be! If
neurosis springs, as Freud and I seem to have concluded, from
what you can't do, then I would say, by all means Do!”239
Foreshadowing the coming arguments of the gay liberationists,
Goodman explained that alliances with other liberal causes would
help to push the homophile movement into the limelight.240
The final day of the conference began with a popular and
largely unprecedented speech by Dr. George Weinberg, a
psychotherapist and former professor at NYU.241 A noted authority
in his field, Weinberg lambasted the “bias against homosexuality”
in psychoanalysis and concluded his presentation with several
firmly worded rules to psychotherapists who worked with
homosexual patients. He explained:
1. If you feel repugnance for homosexual activity, it might be well to look at yourself, consider if you are the proper analyst for this patient. 2. Analysis should try to change
239 Shotwell, “East Coast,” p. 12. 240 Lyon, p. 11. 241 The Ladder reported that, like Kameny, Weinberg received a standing ovation
at the conclusion of his address. Lyon, p. 9. 112
the patient least, not most. The purpose is to make it possible for the patient to lead his own life, not to make him into someone else. 3. Guilt must be diminished, not accentuated. 4. The analyst must help the patient build a value system with a humanistic orientation, allowing him to realize his full potential in society…242
Although framed partially in assimilationist rhetoric, Weinberg's
speech reflected a clear shift from the remarks of psychologists
at the 1963 conference. Finally, the 1965 conference ended with
presentations by Dr. Ralph Grundlach, Gregory Battcock, and Dr.
Margaret Lewis. Grundlach, who reported his research on
lesbianism, found that masculine characteristics were present in
just two percent of his sample. Battcock briefly addressed
homosexuality in the arts and Margaret Lewis presented her
research into state legislative attitudes toward the reformation
of sex laws. “Progress,” she explained, “is slow where it exists
at all.”243
Following the last presentation by Dr. Lewis, Dick Leitsch
took to the podium again and delivered some closing statements.244
Leitsch explained that the unprecedented media coverage was
particularly important “as a means for us to reach the public
242 Shotwell, “East Coast,” p. 12.243 Shotwell, “East Coast,” p. 12; Lyon, p. 11-12. 244 Richard Leitsch, Handwritten Concluding Remarks, p. 1.
113
with the message delivered here: The Homosexual Citizen has a
place in every good society, whether it’s called the Great
Society, the decent Society or the New Frontier.”245 Leitsch
thanked the conference organizers and concluded with some remarks
on the goals of ECHO: “The greatest result of this conference has
been the fulfillment of one of ECHO's earliest aims: to achieve
closer cooperation among the various individual homophile
organizations, the ECHO affiliation is a close one, MSNY,
Philadelphia, and Washington work closely together in a spirit of
cooperation, mutual respect and a lack of selfishness.”246
Although sometimes entangled in the principles and tactical
repertoire of assimilationism, the ECHO conferences revealed a
rapidly developing radicalism. Over the course of only three
years, conference presentations had moved from basic toleration
and discussions of “cures” to advocating direct political action
and criticizing all aspects of sexual repression.
Before he closed the 1965 conference, Leitsch foreshadowed
an important development when he stated, “Last night, at a
meeting of a few representatives of the organizations present
245 Ibid.246 Ibid.
114
here this weekend, we voted to hold a meeting this spring in
Kansas City to discuss closer cooperation among all the
organizations in the country.”247 Placed haphazardly within MSNY's
files on the ECHO conferences is a solitary card inscribed with
the home address of a man named Foster Gunnison.248 The card
humbly requests a copy of the 1965 conference program for his
personal edification. Gunnison, still new to the homophile
movement in 1965, was inspired by what he saw at the New York
conference and, in the years that followed, would become a major
figure in the effort towards the national mobilization and
consolidation of the homophile movement.
247 Ibid.248 Foster Gunnison Jr., Annotated business card (1965)
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Section Two: Bell-Bottoms and Beads
-----------------------------------------------
The North American Conference of Homophile Organizations
Inspired by the success of the 1965 ECHO conference, which
included representatives from San Francisco and Canada, the
homophile organizations on the east coast sought to bring their
goals of unity and cooperation to the national stage.249 On
February 18th 1966, forty representatives from fifteen homophile
organizations—including the Mattachine Society of Washington, the
Daughters of Bilitis, the Janus Society, Mattachine Midwest
(based in Chicago), the Mattachine Society of Florida (based in
Miami), the Council on Religion and the Homosexual (based in San
Francisco), ONE Inc. (based in Los Angeles), and the Society for
Individual Rights (based in San Francisco)—met in Kansas City,
Missouri to discuss the possibility of forming a national
organization.250 The delegates who attended this landmark
249 Representatives from SIR and the Canadian Council on Religion and the Homosexual were present for the '65 conference. See Julian Hodges to Garfield Nichol (August 10, 1965); Richard Leitsch to Robert Koch (July 28,1965); The Daughters of Bilitis was the only national homophile organization in the early 1960s, but its membership had declined. D'Emilio,Sexual Politics, p. 197. Faderman, pp.188-197.
250 J. Louis Campbell, Jack Nichols, Gay Pioneer: "Have You Heard My Message?" (New York: Harrington Park Press, 2007): pp. xx-xxi; Peter Bart, “War Role Sought for Homosexuals”, The New York Times, April 17, 1966: p. 12.
116
convention called their meeting the “National Planning Conference
of Homosexual Organizations,” (or NPCHO, for short). Although the
idea of a national umbrella organization was ultimately dismissed
over the course of the convention, the assembled delegates agreed
to hold annual conferences each summer to help foster
interorganizational cooperation and coordinate the principles and
tactics of the larger movement. While shadowed by minor
disagreements, the Kansas City convention marked the first time
homophile groups had coordinated around the country since the
dissolution of the Mattachine Society's national organization in
1961.251
The first NPCHO meeting opened with brief speeches
highlighting the local accomplishments and contributions of each
homophile organization represented at the convention. As one
might expect, these speeches were guilty of no small amount of
self-aggrandizement. Phyllis Lyon, from the Daughters of Bilitis,
emphasized the role of DOB as the sole lesbian organization in
the movement, while Bill Beardemphl, from the Society for
Individual Rights, noted his organization's use of social
251 Bart, p. 12.117
activities to encourage political mobilization. Chuck Thompson,
from ONE Inc, explained the importance of his organization's
“educational and research programs,” while Mark Forrester framed
his Council on Religion and the Homosexual as a “bridge between
homosexuals and heterosexuals.” Frank Kameny adopted his now
familiar refrain and emphasized the importance of political
mobilization.252 From the beginning, strong personalities,
divergent principles, and myriad tactical approaches to social
and political change made national cooperation difficult, if not
impossible. Many of the organizations represented in Kansas City—
such as ONE Inc and the CRH—had adopted the principles and
tactical repertoire of the Mattachine Society, but the seeds of
change—represented by Kameny and Beardemphl tendency towards
political action—were beginning to sprout.
The tensions that characterized the inaugural NPCHO
convention are best represented by the efforts of Clark Polak,
252 Duberman, Stonewall, p. 147; In his footnotes, Duberman explains that his account of the NACHO conferences was drawn from a number of documents culled from the personal archives of Foster Gunnison Jr. and William B. Kelley, the conference's recording secretary. Although portions of the Gunnison archive have since been opened to researchers at the University ofConnecticut, Duberman is the only scholar, to date, who has worked extensively with the Kelley papers. As such, this piece draws heavily from Duberman's account. fn. 2, p. 292.
118
the president of the Janus Society, to pass an official statement
which declared that homosexuality “be considered as neither a
sickness, disturbance, [nor] neurosis.”253 As was the fate of so
many other issues discussed at the convention, the delegates were
divided. Some stuck to the assimilationist reliance on
professionals and explained that such a statement was best “left
to experts in mental health,” while others objected, “A more
definite assertion of the non-pathological nature of
homosexuality should be made.”254 Ultimately, Polak's resolution
failed, but the convention did issue a statement which noted
“objective research projects undertaken thus far have indicated
that findings of homosexual undesirability are based on opinion,
value judgments, or emotional reaction rather than on scientific
evidence or fact.”255 Other proposals were more successful and, by
the end of the conference, representatives agreed to establish a
national legal fund, hold a nationwide day of protest against the
military's exclusion of homosexuals, “exchange ideas and
information among homophile groups” and meet again in San
253 Duberman, Stonewall, pp. 147-148.254 Duberman, Stonewall, p. 148.255 Ibid.
119
Francisco in August.256 Although its accomplishments were
relatively modest and its official statements often vague, the
1966 Kansas City convention, merely by virtue of its existence,
represented a significant step towards the national consolidation
and unprecedented expansion of the homophile movement.
When the Kansas City delegates reconvened in San Francisco
just seven months later, they attracted an even larger and more
diverse group of representatives. This time, the convention
included more than eighty delegates from 24 organizations.257 The
conference agenda, also more varied than Kansas City's, included
a panel discussion with California legislators who focused
specifically on law reform, a “theatrical presentation,” and a
picnic that allegedly drew a crowd of over six hundred people.258
It was at this San Francisco convention that Foster Gunnison was
finally given the opportunity to speak to an audience of his
fellow homophiles.
256 Bart, p. 12, D'Emilio, Sexual Politics, p. 194; The vague goal of “exchanging ideas” eventually manifest in a National Clearinghouse that distributed homophile literature and publications to organizations around the country. Stephen Donaldson to Foster Gunnison Jr. (March 29, 1967); Barbara Gittingsto “Friends” (January 1970) The Rainbow History Project http://www.rainbowhistory.org/pdf/erchoinvitation.pdf.
257 Duberman, Stonewall, p. 150. 258 Ibid.
120
Over forty years old, with a penchant for suits, and rarely
without his trademark cigar, Foster Gunnison Jr. held two
master's degrees (in philosophy and psychology) from Trinity
College and was, thanks to the sizable fortune he had inherited
from his father, independently wealthy.259 Gunnison had discovered
the Mattachine Society of New York in the early 1960s after he
had read about the organization in Donald Webster Cory's The
Homosexual in America.260 In 1964, he formally joined the
organization as a dues paying member. Shortly thereafter, he
attended the 1965 ECHO conference where he met Jack Nichols
(Kameny's MSW co-founder) and Richard Inman, the founder of the
Mattachine Society of Florida.261 Over the next few months, he
contributed to the efforts of all three organizations from his
home in Hartford, Connecticut. Gunnison may have looked the part
of the assimilationist, but he managed to tread a narrow line
259 See photo appendix. Stephen Donaldson, in a letter to Gunnison, joked, “Grant told me that everyone at his party thought you were a police detective, since you were so avidly (apparently) writing down little notes and were so well dressed.” Stephen Donaldson to Foster Gunnison Jr., April 11, 1967
260 Duberman, Stonewall, pp. 54-57, 102-103; Eisenbach, pp. 48-49.261 Eisenbach, pp. 48-49.
121
between the principles and tactics of the “old guard” and the
political activism of MSW and MSNY.262
When he addressed the San Francisco convention, Gunnison
argued that the “homophile movement had reached a point where
only a national organization could advance it to the next
stage.”263 He continued: “When homosexuality finally hits the No.
1 topic of the day—and I think the day may be approaching fast,
it would be well to be prepared...If we don't define ourselves—
they will. If we don't state our aims—they will.”264 Gunnison
urged the convention's representatives to abandon secrecy and
exclusivity, but reasserted the utility of assimilationist
tactics by calling for continued public education programs and
cooperation with experts. He carefully rejected radicalism. “It
won't be necessary, to trot down to city square, climb up on the
statue of General Sheridan, and wave a banner.”265 For all this 262 Gunnison's radicalism is, perhaps, most evident in the pieces that he
composed for the Mattachine Society of Washington's regular publication The Homosexual Citizen. In these pieces, Gunnison advocated a more direct approach in keeping with MSW's focus on political activism once stating that “socialacceptance of homosexuality will [come] when homosexuals finally [kick] themselves out of bed, [rip] off their masks, and diligently [fight] for their rights...moral arguments will fall, ex post facto, neatly into place.” Foster Gunnison Jr. “Logic and the Ethics of Sex,” The Homosexual Citizen, 1:12 (December 1966) pp. 13-17.
263 Duberman, Stonewall, p. 152.264 Duberman, Stonewall, p. 152.265 Ibid.
122
careful balancing between assimilationism and political activism,
however, Gunnison also clearly supported a developing
“liberationist” impulse when he advocated the importance of
public displays of affection between gay men and women. He felt
that such displays would “demonstrate to the public, as in no
other manner, the futility of its laws and perhaps its
attitude.”266 Gunnison's speech was well received and, at the
conclusion of the San Francisco convention, representatives voted
to form a loose confederation of homophile organizations
unofficially referred to as the “North American Conference of
Homophile Organizations,” or NACHO (pronounced ny-ko). Gunnison
was duly appointed to lead positions on several organizing
committees including a relatively powerful “Credentials
Committee” charged with supervising the admission of new groups
to the confederation. Administrative duties concluded, the next
266 Duberman, Stonewall, p. 153. Gunnison often explained that homosexuality was as much about love as it was about sex. He believed, perhaps correctly,that “nothing is more vital to the eventual public acceptance (not to mention dignity) of homosexuals than their confrontation with the world as they are—loving human beings giving expression to their love under the samerules that apply to everyone else.” Foster Gunnison Jr., “The Hidden Bias: The Homophile Movement and Law Reform” The Homosexual Citizen 2:3 (March 1967): pp. 11-12.
123
NACHO conference was scheduled for the summer of 1967 in
Washington, DC.267
Around the same time that a national organization was taking
shape, a new generation of homophiles was emerging. In the wake
of the 1966 conference, Gunnison began to correspond with other
appointed members of the Credentials Committee, including Bob
Martin (née Stephen Donaldson). An extroverted and openly gay
disciple of the 1960s counterculture, Martin had already caused a
media frenzy when he founded the Student Homophile League at
Columbia University in October of 1966.268 Originally conceived as
a chapter of the Mattachine Society, Martin was dismissed by ECHO
affiliates, particularly MSNY, who feared the kind of unshackled
radicalism of a student led organization.269 Nonetheless, Martin
267 Duberman, Stonewall, p. 153.268 Murray Schumach, “Columbia Charters Homosexual Group,” New York Times (May
3, 1967); According to Martin, the news spread quickly and internationally.“...[the days after the NYT article was published] were frantic as media which had all ignored the press release suddenly wanted the information I had already given them. The story spread abroad: incoming mail told us of an article in Paris' Le Monde, various London papers and newspapers in Australia, Japan, and other distant points.” Eisenbach, pp. 58-60.
269 Influenced by the image of the radical student that was beginning to emerge in the media around this time, Leitsch characterized Martin as an “irresponsible extremist” who endangered the movement. He admitted, “The Negro movement is dead because it is so fragmented; the peace movement is ineffectual because there are more 'leaders' than followers. I want our movement to avoid this pitfall, and to unify—preferably around MSNY.” He went on to explain that students should join MSNY rather than form their own groups. Leitsch as quoted in Eisenbach, p. 71.
124
managed to secure the support of several straight students and
Columbia's administration begrudgingly agreed to officially
recognize the formation of the SHL. Emboldened, Martin soon
extended his participation in the homophile movement beyond the
halls of Columbia to the heady world of NACHO.270
Throughout the next few months, Foster Gunnison, Bob Martin,
and members of the “Credentials Committee” corresponded via a
series of lengthy letters that outlined standards for national
membership, the structure of the national organization, and the
voting procedure at national meetings.271 The debates between
Foster Gunnison and Bob Martin, in particular, reveal a certain
amount of contention between the assimilationist homophiles and
the emerging radicals. Separated by a twenty year age gap, Martin
and Gunnison often clashed over issues of authority and voting
rights. Martin advocated for representative leadership that was
democratically elected at the biannual conventions while Gunnison
supported a certain measure of “authoritarianism” noting that a
national organization required a strong leader capable of pulling
270 Eisenbach, pp. 54-79.271 Foster Gunnison, National Planning Conference of Homophile Organizations,
Credentials Planning Program, “Discussion Bulletin #4,” (March 6, 1967).125
affiliated organizations together.272 Diverging further from
Gunnison’s proposals, Martin supported a system that provided an
equal number of votes for each group, rather than a system that
provided a number of votes commensurate with an organization’s
influence and accomplishments.273 Martin further justified his
proposal by noting that determining a group's “effectiveness” and
“success” was “vague and difficult to objectively verify”.
Standards for admission to the confederation encountered a
similarly fierce debate. As they drew closer to the second annual
meeting, Gunnison lamented that little consensus had emerged.274
Despite the best efforts of Gunnison, Martin, and the
Credentials Committee to draft a set of organizational guidelines
for the national confederation that could be approved at the 1967
convention, the representatives who convened in the nation's
272 Foster Gunnison Jr. to Barbara Gittings and Kay Tobin (February 7, 1967): p. 2. Foster justified this authoritarianism by clearly differentiating it from the “more specific, technical, type—a socio/psychological syndrome clearly defined in Adorno et. al.--which entails bigotry, hatreds prejudice...” Gunnison explained that he supported “The general exercise ofauthority in any business organization, or project in order to get things done.” He explained further, “Progress in any movement depends on organization and organization depends on the exercise of authority, order, system, and procedure as well as discipline.”
273 Gunnison, Discussion Bulletin #4, p. 15. This naturally favored established groups over the smaller and emerging student groups like Martin's Student Homophile League.
274 Foster Gunnison Jr. to Stephan Donaldson (March 21, 1967). 126
capital chose to approve only a general statement of purpose. The
delegates pledged to “improve the status of the homosexual,” and
encourage “intergroup projects and cooperation,” but the national
confederation was carefully described as “consultative in nature
and function.”275 A far cry from the pages of proposals Gunnison
had drafted in the months leading up to the conference, the
representatives did declare their continued commitment to form a
“legitimate homophile movement on a national scale.”276 To further
this mission, a number of conference delegates including
Gunnison, Martin, Barbara Gittings, and Frank Kameny, formed a
“Committee on Unity”.277
The Committee on Unity used the lengthy debates of the
Credentials Committee to formulate a proposed set of by-laws and
resolutions to be submitted at the 1968 conference for
approval.278 The Committee acknowledged that compromise, while
difficult, had been ultimately successful: “[The by-laws are] as
fair and workable as the combined heads of your committee,
representing all general philosophies in the movement, could make275 Duberman, Stonewall, p. 160.276 Duberman, Stonewall, p. 160.277 Stephen Donaldson, Recommended NAHC By-Laws (August 13, 1966). 278 Stephen Donaldson, Comments on the By-Laws Proposed by the Unity Committee
(August 13, 1966).127
it. It represents almost two full days and evening of work and
detailed consideration by your committee.”279 Through protracted
debate, the Committee managed to compose a series of
organizational articles that laid the groundwork for an
unprecedented “association of independent homophile organizations
in North America.”280 Within the resulting by-laws, the purposes
of the “North American Conference of Homophile Organizations”
were clearly articulated. There were seven:
A. To formulate, plan, discuss, co-ordinate, and implement strategy, tactics, ideologies, philosophies, and methodologies for the improvement of the status of the homosexual as a homosexual. B. To provide for the expression of contributions that may be made by individuals and organizations whose activities are, though not primarily involved with the problems of the homosexual, relevant to the crucial problems that face the homosexual community. C. To stimulate and encourage the formation of new homophileorganizations. D. To encourage inter-group projects and co-operation on allpossible levels.E. To work to expose the “sexual sickness” that pervades oursociety and offer meaningful answers to the wide range of problems forced on homosexuals.F. To speak as and to represent the collective voice of the homophile movement in North America in matters which have been previously debated and formulated by the Convention or the Council.
279 Ibid.280 Stephen Donaldson, Recommended NAHC By-Laws, p. 1
128
G. To meet the needs of the homosexual community in those areas of North America not represented by any bona fide homophile organization.281
Although the general mission of unity and cooperation was
articulated years earlier by ECHO, the assertion of national
(really, continental) cooperation represented an unprecedented
expansion of the homophile movement. Even more importantly, the
NACHO by-laws returned partially to Harry Hay's radical cultural
minority theory by noting the existence of a “homosexual
community.” Finally, statement E revealed that NACHO would
actively confront ignorance and distance itself from the image of
the polite homophile who endured the condemnatory speeches of
psychologists like Albert Ellis. Unfortunately, the difference
between discourse and practice, particularly on the national and
continental level, was clear. Organized as a loose confederation,
NACHO had little authority and power.
Following the 1967 meeting, NACHO delegates convened again
in Chicago for a five-day conference in early August of 1968.
Results were mixed and the accomplishments of the convention were
tempered by significant setbacks.282 Under the chairmanship of the
281 Ibid.282 Unfortunately, the successes of the 1968 conference were balanced by a
number of serious issues. At the close of 1968, the Daughters of Bilitis 129
heterosexual Reverend Robert Warren Cromey, vicar of St. Aidan's
Episcopal Church in San Francisco, delegates officially adopted
the name NACHO to replace the myriad unofficial titles used by
representatives and standing committees.283 More substantively,
delegates approved the establishment of an “Executive Committee”
that could carry out business between convention meetings and a
“Committee on Legal Affairs” with the purpose of “evaluating,
recommending, and acting upon ideas, suggestions, proposals, and
resolutions in the field of legal action.”284 The Legal Affairs
Committee was also tasked with organizing legal actions which the
confederation could undertake in order to protest and combat
discrimination.285 Turning its attention to the media, the
convention passed and then disseminated a “Homosexual Bill of
Rights.”286 The “Bill of Rights,” though largely focused on
pulled out of the organization citing a disagreement over the confederation's tactical repertoire and principle. Del Martin, “No To NACHO: Why DOB Cannot Belong Legally,” The Ladder 13:11/12 (August 1969): p. 2; SIR, the largest homophile organization in the United States at the time, was disturbed that “no action program had been discussed and threatened to leave the organization, and MSNY, the second largest organization chose not to attend. Duberman, Stonewall, p. 222.
283 “Homosexuals Ask Candidates' Ideas: Seek Views on Penalties--'Bill of Rights' Urged,” New York Times, August 19, 1968.
284 Committee on Unity, “Resolutions Recommended to the Conference for Adoption,” (August 14, 1968).
285 Ibid.286 “Homosexuals Ask Candidates”
130
equality for homosexuals, included some provisions that suggested
the importance of the movement for the majority of Americans. It
supported “private sex acts between consenting persons over the
age of consent,” and condemned the entrapment strategies used by
local and national police forces. It emphasized the message
advanced by Frank Kameny and noted that an individual's sexual
orientation should “not be a factor in the granting of Federal
security clearance, visas or citizenship.” It also noted that
service in and discharge from the arm services shall be without
reference to homosexuality and that a person's sexual orientation
or practice should not affect his eligibility for employment.”287
Finally, reflective of the dignity and pride beginning to emerge
alongside growing political activism, the 1967 Chicago convention
adopted the official slogan “Gay is good.”288
The NACHO conventions and the effort to organize them,
particularly through the interaction of Foster Gunnison and Bob
287 Ibid.288 Kameny was inspired by the African American slogan “Black is beautiful”
and noted that “many individual homosexuals, like many members of other minority groups, are in need of psychological sustenance and bolstering to support a positive and affirmative attitude toward themselves and their homosexuality, and to have installed into them a confident sense of the positive good and value of themselves and of their condition.” Frank Kameny, “Gay Is Good” Resolution Adopted Unanimously by the NACHO,” (August1968) The Rainbow History Project http://www.rainbowhistory.org/html/echo.htm.
131
Martin, illustrated the development of new principles and a
tactical repertoire that deviated from that of the “old guard”
homophile groups. Gunnison's efforts to create a national
organization borrowed some of the characteristics of an abeyance
structure. The organization he envisioned possessed a
consolidated “authoritarian” leadership and an exclusive
membership that was required to demonstrate the extent of its
commitment in order to receive voting rights. In contrast, Bob
Martin hoped to establish a democratic national organization that
was flexible and welcoming to smaller organizations, such as his
Student Homophile League. By virtue of his own experience, Martin
pressed for the inclusion of radical groups that were beginning
to participate in concerted campaigns against figures of
authority using a tactical repertoire that borrowed from, but
dramatically altered, the efforts of the homophile movement.
-----------------------------------------------
ERCHO and Homophile Activism
The official formation of NACHO in 1968 established three
regional branches that were composed of homophile organizations
132
in the United States, Mexico, and Canada.289 The largest and most
active of these branches was the Eastern Regional Conference of
Homophile Organizations. Despite having a similar name and
organizational structure to that of the earlier ECHO affiliation,
ERCHO was decidedly different in terms of its membership, its
principles, and, particularly, its tactical repertoire. Although
it included the former ECHO affiliates MSW and DOB, MSNY
distanced itself from both NACHO and ERCHO, citing its desire to
focus on local issues.290 “Accredited organizations,” with the
power to vote and serve on the executive committee, included the
Council on Equality for Homosexuals (represented by Foster
Gunnison), the New York Chapter of the Daughters of Bilitis
(represented by Martha Shelley), the Homosexual Youth Movement in
Neighborhoods (or HYMN, represented by Craig Rodwell), the
289 The “Far West Conference” included, at least in theory, homophile groups operating in Mexico. The Eastern Regional Conference of Homophile Organizations included the Montreal group “International Sex Equality Anonymous” Eastern Regional Conference of Homophile Organizations Address List (Not For Public), October 27, 1968.
290 The Janus Society seems to have disappeared at this point, but the Homosexual Action League and the Homosexual Law Reform Society, both located in Philadelphia, were included as “other organizations” in an unreleased list of ERCHO affiliates. Eastern Regional Conference of Homophile Organizations Address List (Not For Public) (October 27, 1968); MSNY dispatched a representative delegate to attend ERCHO meetings on rare occasions. Eastern Regional Conference of Homophile Organizations, “Report of the New York Cooperation Committee,” (July 26, 1968).
133
Institute for Social Ethics (represented by either Barbara
Gittings), the Mattachine Society of Washington (represented by
either John Marshall or Frank Kameny), the Student Homophile
Leagues from Columbia University and Cornell (represented by Bob
Martin), and the West Side Discussion Group (with unknown
representation).291 The inclusion of so many student groups,
particularly Martin's Homophile Leagues and Rodwell's HYMN,
brought more radical voices to the homophile movement than every
before. While ERCHO was ultimately disbanded thanks to the
actions of these radicals, the conferences it held and the
actions it participated in illustrated the development and
implementation of a new tactical repertoire that often used WUNC
displays in its campaigns against various authorities.
During the inaugural ERCHO conference held at Columbia
University on January 13 and 14 1968, delegates reached consensus
on a number of issues, including a drafted constitution and set
of by-laws. Unlike its more conservative predecessor, ERCHO was
uncompromising in its political stance and, perhaps the most
important result of the Columbia conference, were a series of
291 Ibid.134
policy resolutions that were passed by those organizations
present at the meeting. These decisions reflected a political
consciousness that went beyond the comparatively vague positions
adopted by earlier national and regional gatherings, including
those organized by ECHO and NACHO. ERCHO “recogniz[ed] the
necessity for political action to seek the elimination of
discrimination against the homosexual American citizen by his
national, state, and local governments.” To accomplish this
unprecedented mission, it promised to distribute questionnaires
to politicians in order to determine their position on issues
related to homosexuality and “oppose or support candidates based
on their support or rejection of [ERCHO] policies.292 More
specifically, the regional affiliation opposed the denial of
security clearances to homosexuals, discrimination in federal
employment, discrimination in naturalization and immigration
laws, the exclusion of homosexuals from military service, the
existence of state anti-sodomy laws, and Ronald Reagan's
presidential candidacy on a platform of social conservatism.293
292 Eastern Regional Homophile Conference, Press Release, “Homophile Groups Convene in New York Decide to Promote Political Action by Homosexuals Oppose Reagan Candidacy,” (January, 1968).
293 Ibid. p. 2.135
The conference called for greater “organization of homosexuals
into voting blocs” and the reexamination of religious groups'
“traditional attitudes towards homosexuality.”294 While deeply
critical of American society, the affiliation was not entirely
condemnatory and even went so far as to commend the City of New
York for its stand on equal employment and the ACLU for its
statements in support of legal reform.295 At the conclusion of the
final day of the Columbia conference the assembled delegates
agreed to reconvene again in the spring with biannual meetings
following every fall and spring thereafter. ERCHO would meet just
two more times before it was “temporarily disbanded” in November
1969.
At their first meeting on April 13, 1968, ERCHO's Executive
Committee convened with Frank Kameny presiding and Bob Martin
acting as secretary. Representatives from all of ERCHO's
affiliates were present and voted to adopt the constitution and
by-laws that had been drafted at Columbia.296 The constitution
294 Ibid. p. 2.295 Ibid. p. 3.296 Stephen Donaldson, Minutes of the First Meeting of the Executive Committee
of the Eastern Regional Homophile Conference (April 13, 1968).136
and by-laws began with a clearly articulated purpose inspired by
ECHO and connected to NACHO,
To formulate, plan, discuss, coordinate, and implement strategy, tactics, ideologies, philosophies, and methodologies for the improvement of the status of the homosexual as a homosexual. b. To discuss, plan for, implement, and coordinate the decisions and operations of the NACHO on a regional basis. c. to speak as and to represent the collective voice of the homophile movement in the eastern regions. d. to stimulate the formation of, encourage, and provide assistance to new homophile organizations within the eastern region e. to meet the needsof and to represent the homosexual community in those areas within the eastern region not represented by an accredited homophile organization.297
Again, as an affiliated regional branch of NACHO, ERCHO
explicitly identified the presence of a “gay community” and its
efforts to bring homophile organizations together to unify their
principles and tactical repertoire.
The constitution adopted in 1968 also provided for the
establishment of a Credentials Committee similar to the one
headed by Foster Gunnison in NACHO. As with ECHO, the criteria
for ERCHO accreditation included a geographical component that
excluded organizations outside of the vaguely defined “Eastern
Region.” More importantly, aspiring organizations also needed to
297 Bylaws of The Eastern Regional Conference of Homophile Organizations, p. 1.
137
be at least three months old, subscribe to the “National
Clearinghouse” (a group that disseminated literature between
homophile organizations), and have “aims and purposes” directed
toward “the improvement of the status in society of homosexuals
as a group.”298 ERCHO specified that applicant organizations
needed to engage in
Activities directed toward the unqualified acceptance by society of homosexuality as a mode of self-expression no less valued than heterosexuality; Activities directed towardthe establishment in society of the homosexual as a first-class human being and a first-class citizen; The promotion of education, research, dialog, or public discussion toward a fuller, sympathetic, understanding of the homosexual; The providing of counseling or assistance on a non-exploitative basis for the homosexual in need and the sponsoring of constructive social or recreational activities for homosexuals.
Finally, applicant organizations could not be involved in issues
“clearly extraneous and deleterious to the movement,” they needed
to be currently active (by demonstrating their past
accomplishments, current activities, publications, an active
office, or the extent of their membership), and they needed to be
in good financial standing.299 While clearly still engaged in
298 Stephen Donaldson, “Article 16 of ERCHO By-Laws (Credentials Program),” (February 1, 1970) p. 1; For more on the National Clearinghouse see fn. 256.
299 Donaldson, “Article 16 of ERCHO By-Laws (Credentials Program),” p. 2. 138
assimilationist activities such as “education, research, and
public discussion,” ERCHO members were also expected to engage in
activities that advanced the underlying mission of the homophile
movement that sought equality for homosexuals.
ERCHO's policy statements and standards of accreditation,
while undoubtedly new and important steps for the homophile
movement, were simply discourse if they were not supported by
action. To that end, Frank Kameny opened the ERCHO meeting held
on April 27th and 28th of 1968 with a motion to formally sponsor
the protest that was held every year at Independence Hall in
Philadelphia on the Fourth of July to remind the public of the
continued discrimination of homosexuals. Kameny explained that
ERCHO's endorsement would “make it a regional enterprise and give
it more weight.”300 Initially organized by MSW in 1965, “The
Annual Reminder” was later co-sponsored by MSNY and other
homophile organizations on the east coast. As Kameny had often
articulated at earlier ECHO conferences, reliance on public
education programs and social services alone was ineffective. He
reasoned that such actions, while important, only treated
300 Barbara Gittings, “Minutes of Eastern Regional Homophile Conference,” The Rainbow History Project. http://www.rainbowhistory.org/pdf/echo1964.pdf.
139
immediate problems while public protest and agitation brought
about lasting long-term results. To make their voices heard,
Kameny and the MSW turned to picketing.
In 1965 ECHO approved the protest at Independence Hall,
along with a series of demonstrations that took place at the
Civil Services Commission, the State Department, the Pentagon,
and the White House.301 The Mattachine Society of Washington, in
cooperation with its fellow ECHO affiliates and Mattachine
Midwest, organized the demonstrations to officially “petition the
federal government to cease and desist its discriminatory
policies regarding the employment of homosexuals.”302 In the
interorganizational fliers that announced these protests, MSNY
and MSW explained:
To gain acceptance, ideas must be clothed in familiar garb. Therefore, good order, good appearance, and dignity are necessary in the presentation of a new, an unusual or an unpopular idea. Consequently, demonstrations favoring such ideas must be well-organized, well-conducted and well-behaved. For these reasons, the following rules must be
301 The Mattachine Society of Washington, Press Release: “Why Are Homosexuals Picking the U.S. Civil Service Commission?” (1965): pp. 1-3; The MattachineSociety of Washington, News Release: Homosexuals to Picket Pentagon (July 29, 1965); The Mattachine Society of Washington, Information Bulletin (State Department) (August, 1965).
302 The Mattachine Society Inc, of New York to The Members and Friends of MSNY(1965).
140
enforced in any demonstration in which the name Mattachine is connected.303
The fliers then listed three rules that muted their radical
tactics:
1. Dress and appearance will be conservative and conventional. Men must wear clean white shirts, ties and jackets; women must wear dresses or skirts and blouses...Demonstrators must be well groomed. 2. Signs will be supplied by the sponsoring organizations. 3. ...A spokesman will be designated. He, and he alone, will have authority to speak for the group. Conversation between the demonstrators should be kept to a minimum.304
On October 23, 1965 approximately 45 members of MSW and MSNY
convened in front of the White House to protest discrimination
against homosexuals.305 Both public and internal opinions of the
event were mixed, and, in a report for The Ladder, Kay Tobin
recorded some of the comments she heard from onlookers. The
comments ranged from criticism and disgust to support,
Elderly man: I give them credit for what they're doing.Mother of Five: You should all be married and have a family.High school student: They look so normal.Policeman: Hey, that's a good-looking group. I'm surprised.
303 Ibid. 304 Ibid. 305 MSW had drafted a much longer political statement that criticized the
government's discriminatory policies by employing portions of the Declaration of Independence for its protest at Independence Hall. Eastern Regional Conference of Homophile Organizations, 4th Annual Reminder Day Flyer (1968); Eastern Regional Conference of Homophile Organizations, 5th Annual Reminder Day Flyer (1969).
141
Tobin carefully noted that some homosexuals (not present at the
protest) had registered their objections: “'Dirty, unwashed
rabble are thought to do that kind of thing!' 'It's best to work
quietly on an individual basis.' 'We're not ready for it yet.'”
Finally, she turned her attention to the protestors themselves,
who expressed a mixture of pride, obligation, and desperation:
“'Today I lost the last bit of fear.' 'This was the proudest day
of my life!' 'I don't like to picket. But we have to, just HAVE
to.'”306 Because these protests did not end discrimination against
homosexuals, it is difficult to assess their success;
nevertheless such efforts were revolutionary and indicative of
the changing tactical repertoire of the homophile movement.
The development of a tactical repertoire that included
direct action was not confined to a specific city, organization,
or even, for that matter, to those groups affiliated with ERCHO.
The Mattachine Society of the Niagara Frontier, founded in
306 Kay Tobin, “Picketing: The Impact & The Issues,” The Ladder, 9:12 (1965): pp. 4-5; The local papers also covered the 1965 protests with small, matterof fact, articles. Associated Press, “Pickets Demand Fair Treatment for Homosexuals,” The Sunday Star (May 30, 1965); United Press International, “Pickets Call Nation Unfair to Deviates,” The Washington Post (May 30, 1965). In spite of its title, the UPI article was relatively sympathetic and even complimented the “orderly” protest.
142
Buffalo in early 1970, picketed the Buffalo City Hall to protest
“the second raid on [their] premises in three months by local
police.” The protest was successful in attracting new members to
the group (which eventually consisted of 175 people—“a third of
whom are female”) and received “an unexpected and welcome
response from the local media.” A local television station even
offered to interview members of the Society about their views.307
On April 21, 1966, to protest the State Liquor Authority's vague
discriminatory policy against serving alcohol to homosexuals,
Dick Leitsch, John Timmons, and Craig Rodwell organized a “sip-
in.”308 Accompanied by reporters, the three men visited three
bars, including two gay bars, and before requesting service, they
announced that they were homosexuals. The first two bars,
disregarding the SLA's policy, served the men anyway, but when
the group tried to order drinks at Julius, they were refused.
MSNY promptly filed suit against the SLA for discrimination with
the support of the Commission on Human Rights. The “sip-in” was
covered by both The New York Times and The Village Voice and the lawsuit
307 Bruce Greenberg (Corresponding Secretary of MSNF) to Richard Leitsch (April 11, 1970).
308 Mattachine Society of New York, Newsletter Draft (1966): p. 2143
was ultimately successful.309 During April and May of 1965, Clark
Polak and the Janus Society organized a series of sit-ins at a
local restaurant in Philadelphia after the restaurant's manager
refused to serve several men and women whom he suspected “on the
basis of their appearance,” of being gay. Several of the
participants in the action were arrested, including Polak, but
coverage by the media and the distribution of fliers publicizing
the event drew crowds of more than four hundred people to the
Janus Society's sponsored lectures.310
It was with this recent history in mind that Kameny's motion
passed at the 1968 conference and ERCHO sponsored the fifth
Annual Reminder with little incident. Although this was not the
first time homophile organizations had added direct action to
their tactical repertoire, it was the first time that such an
action was backed by a regional branch of a national
confederation and it set the stage for one of the first visible
confrontations between the homophiles and the radical “gay
liberationists.”
309 Ibid.; Scott Simon, Interview with Dick Leitsch “Remembering a 1966 'Sip-In' for Gay Rights” NPR, June 28, 2008.
310 D'Emilio, Sexual Politics, p. 174.144
The July 4, 1969 Annual Reminder adopted the same basic
rules that Kameny had first employed in his 1965 demonstrations
by ordering a strictly enforced dress code that emphasized “a
neat, well-groomed, good-looking, conservative appearance.” ERCHO
even formed a three person committee to “pass upon the appearance
of persons marching on the picket line and to rule off the line
those not meeting standards.”311 The fifth annual reminder was
not, however, the same as those that had proceeded it. Occurring
just weeks after the Stonewall Riots, the protestors who arrived
in Philadelphia from New York were emboldened by a week's worth
of headlines, violent clashes with police, and the stirrings of
radicalism. A 19 year old activist and future member of the Gay
Liberation Front described the resulting clash between the
homophiles and the new “liberationists”: “The New York people
311 Frank Kameny, Chairman, Eastern Regional Conference of Homophile Organizations to Eastern Homophile Organizations and Others Interested (1969); Due, at least in part to its strict enforcement of a “dress code” Richard Leitsch formally protested the 1969 annual reminder and requested that MSNY's name not appear on any of the fliers. He explained that, “We cannot support a demonstration that pretends to reflect the feelings of allhomosexuals while excluding many homosexuals from participating...Since ourmembership covers all the spectrum of gay life, we encompass drag queens, leather queens, and many, many groovy men and women whose wardrobe consistsof bell-bottoms, vests and miles of gilt chains. Rather than risk the embarrassment and insult of having some of our people rejected, we choose neither to participate nor support the demonstration...” Dick Leitsch to Barbara Gittings, June 24, 1969.
145
were much more militant than anyone else. Two of the lesbians
started to hold hands and Kameny went over and slapped their
hands. And he said, 'You can't do that! You can't do that!'312
Following Kameny's outburst, the radicals took control of the
protest: “The New York people sort of caucused and freaked out,
and I wrote on my sign—which said something like 'Equality for
Homosexuals'--'Smash Sexual Fascism'...You could feel the
militancy.”313 After several more hours of liberated protest, the
participants returned home and 1969 marked the end of the “Annual
Reminder”, the first of many events wherein the homophile
movement was visibly antiquated and criticized by the bell-bottom
clad gay liberationists.
The small victories made by ERCHO and the “militant
homophiles” like Kameny, Leitsch, and Polak were ultimately
overshadowed by the activities and advances of the gay
liberationists. But it is important to note that these first
steps often moved beyond abeyance to reflect the characteristics
of a full-fledged social movement. The Annual Reminder, in
particular, was a clear example of a sustained campaign that
312 Teal, pp. 30-31313 Ibid.
146
displayed the kind of characteristics outlined by Tilly and Wood.
“Worthiness” was clearly articulated in the conservative attire
worn by participants; “unity” was visible in the standardized
signs that were carried by protesters; “numbers,” though small,
were, nonetheless, important to conference organizers;314 and,
finally, the “commitment” of those who participated was clear.
Despite potential backlash that often resulted from self-
identifying as homosexual, participants nevertheless boldly
presented themselves as gay men and women.
-----------------------------------------------
The Dissolution of ERCHO and NACHO and the Rise of the Liberationists
By the late 1960s, minority groups were radicalizing around
the country and around the world. Students, African Americans,
and women were responding to the clarion calls of activists like
Herbert Marcuse, Stokely Carmichael, and Shulamith Firestone.315
In 1969, when the NYPD raided the Stonewall Inn, the homophile
314 Press releases often boasted that “approximately 100 people participated” when, more often than not, the actual attendance was lower. Annual ReminderDay Committee, Press Release (June 30, 1966).
315 For general overviews of the activities of the New Left in the 1960s, bothat home and abroad, and the development of new forms of activism. See Martin Klimke, The Other Alliance: Student Protest in West Germany and the United States in the Global Sixties (Princeton: Princeton University Press,2010); Jeremi Suri, Power and Protest: Global Revolution and The Rise of Detente (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2003).
147
movement had reached its own tipping point. Their principles and
tactical repertoire, long supported, were being called into
question by “militant homophiles” who were no longer content with
mere “assimilation” and maintaining the status quo. Fresh from
the forges of this sociopolitical malcontent, students
radicalized the gay rights movement the way they had the antiwar,
civil rights, and women's liberation movements. By the end of the
decade, the homophile movement was a shadow of its former self,
with many of its members joining the ranks of the radical gay
liberationists in the construction of a “full-fledged” social
movement. Held in November, the 1969 ERCHO meeting was, according
to Foster Gunnison, an unmitigated disaster that featured a
disruption organized by members of the GLF.316 One year later, in
1970, the annual NACHO meeting ended with a similar disruption by
a radical caucus. The era of abeyance structures was over.
On July 16, 1969, just days after the Annual Reminder had
been disturbed by members of the GLF, a meeting of the Mattachine
Society of New York encountered opposition from its newly formed
“Action Committee.” Held at the St. John's Episcopal Church in
316 Eisenbach, pp. 134-136.148
Greenwich Village (not far from the Stonewall Inn), fliers for
the meeting announced:
Homosexuals are no longer going to sit back and be apatheticpawns for every politician who comes along... It is time that the law and order crowd put a halt to the vigilante groups who would destroy the country...to preserve their delusions of virility. Whatever means we use to express our objection to the way this society deprives gay people of theRights and Liberties guaranteed to all Americans in the Declaration of Independence and Bill of Rights, we need yourhelp and ideas to make gay power a reality.317
From the beginning, the meeting's organizers seemed to welcome a
confrontation between the “old guard” homophiles and the emerging
liberationists—and they received one. Since the media had
recently been attracted to the issue of homosexuality by the
Stonewall Riots, the historic meeting was covered in Esquire
Magazine by Tom Burke.
Dick Leitsch, in a staid brown suit, strides to the front...with professional aplomb...Police brutality and heterosexual indifference must be protested, he asserts; at the same time, the gay world must retain the favor of the Establishment, especially those who make and change the laws. Homosexual acceptance will come slowly, by educating the straight community, with grace and good humor and...” Leitsch was interrupted by “a tense boy with leonine hair” who shouted “We don't want acceptance, goddamn it! We want respect! Demand it! We're through hiding in dark bars behindMafia doormen. We're going to go where straights go and do anything with each other they do and if they don't like it,
317 Teal, p. 34.149
well, FUCK THEM! Straights don't have to be ashamed of anything sexy they happen to feel like doing in public, and neither do we! We're through cringing and begging like a lotof nervous old nellies at Cherry Grove!318
In an attempt to placate this growing unrest, Madolin Cervantes
(MSNY's heterosexual treasurer) suggested that MSNY organize a
“gay vigil” that was “firm, but amicable and sweet.”319 This time,
James Fouratt, a long-haired New Left radical and friend of Abbie
Hoffman, sprang to his feet and shouted to Cervantes:
Bullshit! ...We have to radicalize, man! Why? Because as long as we accept getting fired from jobs because we are gay, or not being hired at all, or being treated like second-class citizens, we're going to remain neurotic and screwed up...Be proud of what you are, man! And if it takes riots or even guns to show them what we are, well, that's the only language that the pigs understand!320
Fouratt's speech received raucous cheers, and Leitsch tried to
regain control of the proceedings. Again, he was shouted down by
Fouratt, but this time, the crowd remained standing, shouting,
and cheering. Burke leaves his readers with an enduring image of
the homophiles overwhelmed by the cacophonous applause of the
liberationists. “Again and again, Dick Leitsch tugs...at his
318 Tom Burke, “The New Homosexuality,” Esquire (December 1969): p. 316.319 Ibid.320 Ibid.
150
clean white tie, shouting for the floor, screaming for order and
he is firmly ignored.”321
In the days following the disastrous MSNY meeting, leaflets
appeared around Greenwich Village that read “Do You Think
Homosexuals Are Revolting? You Bet Your Sweet Ass We Are! We're
going to make a place for ourselves in the revolutionary
movement. We challenge the myths that are screwing up this
society. Meeting: Thursday, July 24, 6:30pm at Alternate U – 69
West 14th Street at Sixth Avenue.”322 While little occurred at this
first meeting, a second was held on July 31 where the group
articulated its goals as such, “To examine how we are oppressed
and how we oppress ourselves. To fight for gay control of gay
businesses. To publish our own newspaper. To these and other
radical ends...”323 Drawing inspiration from the Algerian and
321 Later, in the January 6th 1970 issue of the Advocate, Madolin Cervantes composed a scathing article that lambasted the “gay militants” for damagingthe public's image of homosexuals. “Now the militant gays have come along, and by their wholly unacceptable appearance and behavior, are doing much todestroy that acceptance.” p. 7 Madolin Cervantes, “Whither The Militants?,”The Advocate 4:? (January, 1970); Curiously, MSNY rejected her piece publicly in a press release noting that “We automatically reject such statements as divisive and destructive of the common cause of all homosexuals—be they moderate, radical, or conservative.” Mattachine Society of New York (MichalKotis, President), “MSNY Rejects Its Treasurer's Views of Militants,” (1970).
322 Teal, p. 36. 323 Teal. p. 37.
151
Vietnamese National Liberation Fronts, and rejecting the coded
titles of the “Mattachine Society” and the “Daughters of
Bilitis”, this mixed gender group of radicals (some of whom were
former members of the Mattachine Society and the Daughters of
Bilitis) became the Gay Liberation Front.324
The principles and tactical repertoire of the GLF diverged
from, but were ultimately constructed upon, the structural base
of the homophile movement. One journalist explained that the GLF
was based on three particularly crucial elements. The first was
the homophile movement: with its organization of “homosexual
ideas and literature” it provided the philosophical roots” of the
new group. No less important, the African American civil rights
movement provided the new group with its tactical repertoire. The
GLF borrowed from the civil rights movement its “concept of
minority oppression,” the idea of a “group consciousness,” and
“self-pride.” Finally, the counterculture provided the GLF with
its own unique style that moved beyond the gray flannel suits and
pencil skirts of the homophiles. “The hippie movement and hip
life style. Freedom in dress codes, drugs, long hair and colorful
324 Teal, pp. 38, 45.152
clothing for males, rock music and a generally liberated outlook
toward life.”325
The earliest meetings of the GLF, influenced as they were by
the free-flowing (often inebriated) egalitarianism of the
counterculture, were frequently bogged down in seemingly endless
debate. At times, however, order was maintained long enough to
organize meaningful events like dances and demonstrations. Early
on, a successful demonstration was held outside The Village Voice to
protest the periodical's refusal to publish advertisements that
used the word “gay” equating it with a “four-letter obscenity.”
After being targeted by the GLF, The Village Voice relented and began
to print the word “gay within its pages. The confrontational wing
of the GLF, known as the “Gay Commandos,” frequently engaged in
direct action tactics that involved the public confrontation of
political figures in the presence of media representatives. Led
by Jim Owles, the Gay Commandos successfully protested a campaign
rally for the conservative Mayoral candidate Mario Procaccino.326
Often rowdy, disorganized, and lacking unity, the campaigns
325 Marcus Overseth, “Inside Look at Where We Stand,” San Francisco Free Press 1:9 (1969); Teal. pp. 49-50.
326 Leo Louis Martello, “Gay Liberators Confront N.Y. Mayoral Candidates,” Advocate 3:11 (December 1969) p. 3; Eisenbach, p. 129.
153
organized by the GLF hardly adhered to the characteristics of a
WUNC display. In an abstract way, however, these actions were,
nonetheless, indicative of a developing social movement. Given
the real possibility of negative backlash, both at the event and
to their lives afterwards, the many GLFers who participated in
these actions expressed clear “purposive commitment” to their
cause, even if the definition of that cause was relatively ill-
defined.
It was only in May 1970, months after its inaugural meeting,
two hundred GLFers met to frame the official platform for their
organization. The resulting “constitution” differed markedly from
those produced by the homophile movement. The document began with
a vague commitment to self-identification and personal
development: “Each member of GLF is committed to the full
development of her or himself, as an individual human being, and
to develop in her- or him-self pride as a Gay person in a sexist
oriented society, supporting at the same time every other
person's right to develop.”327 It went on to explain that:
GLF is committed to working for increased communication and understanding, wherever possible, between Gays and
327 Teal, pp. 154-155.154
Straights, between women and men, across racial, class and political divisions, so that all persons may relate to and be responsible to each other as human beings, and every other human being may have the right to love any other humanbeing she or he chooses, openly and without fear.328
Punctuating its platform, the GLF emphasized its connection
to other 1960s social movements, when it stated that the “GLF is
committed to liberation to all by way of a social revolution,
changing all people's heads and hearts until everyone attains the
freedom to stay out of all limiting roles and boxes and function
as a Human Being.”329 The principles and tactical repertoire
expressed here were a far cry from those used by the homophile
abeyance structures. In contrast, the GLF possessed a
decentralized leadership structure, an inclusive and open
membership, and--by directing their attention towards a “social
revolution”--a concerted campaign against targeted authorities.
Although the homophiles had been dealt a devastating public
blow by the radicals at the MSNY meeting in July, the August 28
NACHO conference in Kansas City went ahead as planned. Halfway
through the conference, however, a film was shown that depicted
the radical demonstrations and repressive tactics of the police
328 Ibid. 329 Teal, pp. 155-156.
155
at the 1968 Democratic National Convention. Subsequently, members
of the “Committee on Youth,” a group chaired by the young radical
Bob Martin, were inspired to compose “A Radical Manifesto.” This
manifesto, presented to NACHO for approval, was organized into
twelve points that borrowed from the GLF's, as yet uncodified,
principles of liberationism. The first two points of the Radical
Manifesto linked the homophile movement to the struggles of other
minority groups including “the black, the feminist, the Spanish-
American, the Indian, the hippie, the young, the student, the
worker, and other victims of oppression and prejudice.”330 In the
predictable rhetoric of the 1960s, it went on to condemn “the
repressive governmental system”, “heterosexual standards of
morality”, “organized religion, business, and medicine” before
declaring that “homosexuals, as individuals and members of the
greater community, must develop homosexual ethics and esthetics
independent of, and without reference to, the mores imposed upon
heterosexuality.” To accomplish this mission reminiscent of Hay's
cultural minority theory, the Committee on Youth demanded the
“removal of all restrictions on sex between consenting persons of
330 Teal, pp. 54-55.156
any sex, of any orientation, of any age, anywhere, whether for
money or not.”331 Following this new statement of purpose, the
document briefly criticized the homophiles for patently
disregarding the movement's youth while it tried “to promote a
mythical, non-existent 'good public image.'”332 In its conclusion,
the document returned to the issue of solidarity and called for
an end to the war in Vietnam and the “continuous political
struggle” of minorities “on all fronts.”333 By framing displays of
“power and force” as the only way to affect change, the Manifesto
represented a significant departure from the message of the
assimilationists. While the difference between this new message
and the mission of the “militant homophiles” was slightly less
intense, the condemnation of building a “good public image” was,
nonetheless, untenable. In the end, the Radical Manifesto was
overwhelmingly defeated by NACHO's conservative leadership, but
Dick Leitsch, Foster Gunnison, and the homophiles faced yet
another confrontation with the radicalized liberationists just
four months later at the annual ERCHO conference.
331 Ibid.332 Ibid.333 Ibid.
157
At its annual meeting in Philadelphia on November 1 and 2 of
1969 at its annual meeting in Philadelphia, ERCHO collapsed.
Despite reservations on the part of the conservative homophile
delegates, members from the GLF were allowed to participate along
with the Student Homophile Leagues from Columbia, Cornell, and
NYU.334 After a great deal of angry debate and hostility was
exchanged by either side over the role of heterosexuals in the
organization and the position of radical publications, ERCHO
adopted a set of new organizational amendments deeply influenced
by the Gay Liberation Front:335
Resolved, that the Eastern Regional Conference of Homophile Organizations considers these inalienable human rights aboveand beyond legislation: 1. Dominion over one's own body (through freedom without regard to sexual orientation, the use of birth control and abortion, and the ingestion of drugs of one's choice) 2. Freedom from society's attempts todefine and limit human sexuality, which are inherently manifested in economic, educational, religious, social, personal and legal discrimination. 3. Freedom from politicaland social persecution of all minority groups (including freedoms from unequal tax structure and judicial system, self-determination for all minority groups.336
The amendments looked similar to the Radical Manifesto that had
been proposed at the earlier NACHO meeting, but this time the
334 Teal, p. 87.335 Teal, pp. 86-87.336 Teal, p. 87.
158
liberationists were successful in passing their agenda.
Immediately following its adoption, however, ERCHO
representatives voted to “suspend the organization for one year”
in the hope that the radicals might disappear with time.337 Foster
Gunnison, present at the meeting with his now radicalized
colleague Bob Martin, was deeply disconcerted. He explained that,
while he saw utility in the militant activities of the GLF, “I
favor virtually across the board all kinds of confrontation
tactics, street demonstrations, including violence where called
for. I was thrilled with the Christopher Street uprising of
1969.”338 he was deeply concerned about the damage they might
cause to the public's perception of homosexuality and the
distraction that came from focusing on too many disparate
causes.339 This later point, in particular, would become the focus
of an internal debate in the GLF over the next few months as some
of its members sought to donate group funds in support of the
Black Panther Party.
337 Eisenbach, pp. 135-136.338 Teal, p. 89.339 Teal, pp. 89-90.
159
The homophile movement, though largely discredited and
forgotten by the Gay Liberation Front was partially preserved in
the more tempered organization known as the “Gay Activists
Alliance.” On December 21, 1969, a number of former GLF members,
disillusioned with the GLF's chaotic lack of structure and its
blind cooperation with other, often unkind, social movements,
formed the Gay Activists Alliance.340 In contrast to the GLF, the
GAA focused its attention solely on the issue of homosexual
liberation. Although still far more radical than the ERCHO/NACHO
affiliates in the homophile movement, the GAA earned the support
of many “old guard” homophiles.341 Outlining the purpose of their
organization, a pamphlet composed by the founders of the GAA
explained that the group was “a militant (though nonviolent)
homosexual civil rights organization” with membership “open to
all persons—male or female, young or old, homosexual or
heterosexual—who agree with the purposes of the organization and
who are prepared to devote time to their implementation.”342 To
340 The GAA was so concerned with distancing itself—both publicly and internally—from the GLF that it guarded against “infiltration” by the rivalgroup and drafted a clear set of organizational rules and policies that differed markedly from the haphazard structure of the GLF. Bell, pp. 17-19; Eisenbach. pp. 144-145.
341 Eisenbach, pp. 128-129.342 Eisenbach, pp. 127-128.
160
avoid the chaos and infighting that so often characterized the
GLF, the GAA was a “one-issue organization” structured around
officers and committees, but with policy decisions left to the
organization's membership. While it deviated from the often
political homophile organizations by organizing social events
such as dances, it noted that the purpose of such activities was
to “raise the political consciousness of the gay community and to
contribute to social solidarity.”343 Tactically, the GAA also
differed from the earlier homophiles through its reliance on
“confrontation politics” including public protests, disruption of
political rallies, sit-ins, and “zaps.” Although the GLF
criticized the GAA for its “authoritarian” structure, the growth
of the GAA far outpaced that of the GLF.344
In a letter dated March 2, 1970, Richard Leitsch remarked,
“I'm sick to death of ERCHO, and very impatient with NACHO. All
ERCHO seems to want to do is argue, fight, and play dirty
politics.”345 Leitsch continued his diatribe by explaining, “MSNY
is planning to start, not necessarily a counter-ERCHO, but an 343 Ibid. Laud Humphreys, Out of the Closets: The Sociology of Homosexual Liberation
(Englewood Cliffs, N.J.: Prentice-Hall, 1972): pp. 124-126.344 Humphreys, p. 125. 345 Richard Leitsch to Jack Campbell (Mattachine of Cleveland) (March 2,
1970). 161
association, and affiliation, of like-minded groups who can work
together in harmony. This will include...MSNY, MSNF, DOB, a new
group in Brunswick, the student groups at Cornell, Rutgers,
Harvard, and Boston University.”346 Leitsch carefully explained
that he intended to “hand-pick” the new organization's affiliates
to avoid “fights over radicalism vs. conservatism, approaches,
personal politicking, and the like.”347 He hoped to focus the
attention of this group on “a heavy legal campaign.” He finished
his letter with more criticism of ERCHO. “I'm more than a little
irritated at all of the game playing on the Eastern and even
national level. ...There is too much fighting and jockeying for
power, and too much backstabbing. Some of us are too mature and
too serious for that crap, and we ought to get together and get
some work done, while the others fight among themselves, kill one
another, or whatever they choose to do.”348 Given the defeats that
MSNY had suffered in the last two years at the hands of the
liberationists, it is hard to say how or why Leitsch thought that
MSNY would be more successful than ERCHO in organizing a
346 Ibid.347 p. 2.348 p. 3.
162
confederation of homophile groups. Judging by this letter and
several others that he wrote around the same time, it is clear
that, through blind hope or shear will, Leitsch thought that it
still possible in 1970 to unite “mature” homophile organizations
in a concentrated legal campaign. By the end of the year,
however, that idea was finally abandoned along with the last
vestiges of the homophile movement.
Unlike its eastern regional branch, NACHO limped on for one
more year before it ultimately succumbed to the militants at its
August 26 convention in San Francisco in 1970. On Friday morning,
the GLF arrived at the meeting in force. Jim Kepner, a journalist
for the Advocate, described the resulting clash:
Under black and red flags, the GLF marched in shouting, and drove out most delegates [there had been a report that one radical had brandished a gun]. Some delegates threatened to call the police—the unpardonable sin! SIR spokesmen insistedthat the hall was rented to NACHO only and that non-delegates must behave or leave—but were welcome to meet in another room.349
After a protracted and hostile exchange, the GLF representatives
left and the conference reconvened. After the NACHO conference
had adjourned for the day, the militants returned and, together
349 Teal, p. 310; Humphreys, pp. 106-115.163
with a few conference delegates, they “passed” several “wordy
partisan resolutions, supporting the Panthers, demanding an
investigation of homosexuals killed at Dachau, and so forth...”350
According to Jim Rankin, another journalist who covered the event
for Gay Sunshine,
“This was the battle that ended the homophile movement. It began twenty or more years ago, it produced men and women ofgreat stature, it had its martyrs, it made possible to a large degree everything that a new movement is going to do. It was a noble thing. We respect it. We love those who were a part of it. They were brave and strong when it was difficult. We fear having to match their stature in our own situations. But it is now time to move on, and the ground rules and basic assumptions of that movement are no longer acceptable or effective.”351
Rankin, perhaps more than many at the time, recognized the
importance of the homophile movement and the debt that the
liberationists owed to their ancestors. Any yet, the GLF, though
clearly rejecting the principle of “worthiness”, had engaged in a
“UNC” display against its elders. In an organized group of
committed individuals unified, literally and figuratively, under
a common banner, the GLF ushered in a new era. The times had
changed; the era of the homophile abeyance structures was coming
to a close and the era of gay liberation had just begun
350 Teal, p. 310; Humphreys, p. 108.351 Teal, p. 311.
164
The transition between these periods was, on the whole,
protracted and unexpected. As the “homophile militants” in ERCHO
gradually incorporated more direct action into the tactical
repertoire of their movement, it must have seemed possible that
mobilization would continue gradually over the coming decades.
The Stonewall Riots, while clearly emphasized too within the
historical narrative, were nonetheless an important signal that
the time was right for “white hot mobilization.” Seizing upon
this call to action, the GLF and the GAA organized a new movement
that engaged in concerted campaigns against target authorities
using more militant tactics and WUNC displays.
165
Abeyance Across the Pond-----------------------
The Transnational TurnReturning briefly to where we began, the historiography of
the gay rights movement has expanded recently to explore
homophile organizations outside of the United States.352 This
unprecedented research has revealed the existence of
international homophile abeyance structures that often
communicated with their American counterparts. Like the
Mattachine Society, these foreign abeyance structures were also
criticized and ultimately rejected by emerging liberationists and
pushed into obscurity.
352 Judith Schuyf and Andre Krouwel published on the first annual International Congress for Sexual Equality that was held in Amsterdam in 1951. Judith Schuyf and Andre Krouwel, “The Dutch Lesbian and Gay Movement:The Politics of Accommodation” in The Global Emergence of Gay and Lesbian Politics: National Imprints of a Worldwide Movement, ed. Barry D. Adam (Philadelphia: Temple University Press, 1999): 162; A more detailed study of the ICSE was subsequently produced by Leila J. Rupp, "The Persistence of Transnational Organizing: The Case of the Homophile Movement," The American Historical Review 116: 4 (2011): 1014-1039; In his study of homosexuality and gay rights in Germany, Clayton Whisnant noted the existence of small homophile groups in the 1950s and 60s. Clayton J., Whisnant, Male Homosexuality in West Germany: Between Persecution and Freedom,1945-69 (Hampshire: Palgrave Macmillan, 2012): specifically pp. 64-111; The presence of similar Italian groups has been briefly examined by Peter M. Nardi, “The Globalization of the Gay and Lesbian Socio-Political Movement: Some Observations about Europe with a Focus on Italy” Sociological Perspectives, 41:3 (1998): 567-586; Finally, Weeks' text on the Wolfenden Report and legal reform in Britain, referenced earlier, remains one of the most authoritative texts on the British experience.
166
One of the most detailed monographs that has emerged from
this transnational turn is Julian Jackson's study of the French
homophile group, Association Arcadie. The brainchild of an ex-
seminarian and school teacher, Arcadie was founded by Andre
Baudry in 1954 after the inaugural publication of its eponymous
journal Arcadie. In the years before he founded the homophile
organization, Baudry had participated in, and was clearly
inspired by, the operations of an even earlier Swiss homophile
group known as Der Kreis (or 'The Circle').353 In the early 1950s,
Baudry composed and published a number of pieces for the group's
multilingual publication and advised its staff on homosexual life
in France.354 In May 1952, Baudry proposed a meeting for Parisian
subscribers of Der Kreis to discuss their common position and the
possibility of a native French movement.355 Although the first
meeting of Baudry's group drew in only a few individuals,
353 Julian Jackson, Living in Arcadia: Homosexuality, Politics, and Morality in France from the Liberation to AIDS. (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2009): pp. 65-67.
354 Der Kreis emerged in the immediate aftermath of the Second World War by drawing on the pioneering research of the sexologist and activist, Magnus Hirschfeld. According to one of Der Kreis' editors, Baudry was a “pillar” of the society in the early 1950s. Jackson, p. 67.
355 Ibid.; Adam, p. 71.167
membership grew over the course of several months and—by 1953—the
still unnamed group boasted some 200 members.356
As his organization grew, Baudry withdrew from Der Kreis,
citing its lackluster French content; in 1953 he circulated a
memo that detailed his organizational vision and the necessity of
purposive commitment. The memo stated: “France is entering
alongside other European nations, into a struggle for true
EQUALITY...We are here, ready to serve our cause with courage,
prudence, discretion, and dignity, and without pointless
provocation.” The piece went on to demand the reader's immediate
subscription to a forthcoming “French Review.” “To subscribe is a
DUTY for everyone in this Great Community that has existed
throughout the centuries and throughout all nations. To refuse to
subscribe is to refuse to serve our minority, which contains
those who suffer and those who feel abandoned, but which could be
the strongest in the world if we only dared and knew how to
unite.”357 As Harry Hay had done several years earlier and
thousands of miles away, Baudry minoritized France's homosexual
population and articulated the idea of a “community” not confined
356 Jackson, pp. 67, 72.357 Jackson, p. 73.
168
by national borders. Reflecting on this transnationalism, Jackson
noted, “Arcadie was part of a shared moment in the history of
homosexuality in which many organizations throughout the west
defended a common vision of homosexuality.”358 Though compelling,
Jackson's assertion of a “common vision” may be a bit extreme.359
Although Arcadie shared some basic principles and structural
elements with its Mattachine cousins, the tactical repertoire
that it adopted was directed inward, toward social solidarity,
rather than outward, like the assimilationists' policies of
public education and the homophile militants' political actions.
Like the early Mattachine Society, Arcadie possessed a
centralized power structure that allowed it to endure over a
particularly long period of time. According to Baudry's close
associate Michel Duchein, “From the start and right until the
end, the personality of Baudry dominated, completely,
absolutely...Arcadie was created by Baudry, run by Baudry, and
dissolved by Baudry.”360 This authoritarianism had a clear impact
358 Jackson, p. 12. 359 David Churchill contested that Dorr Legg, the founding editor of ONE Inc,
found “little open evidence of public goals” when he visited Arcadie in thelate 1950s. David S. Churchill, “Transnationalism and Homophile Political Culture in the Postwar Decades,” GLQ: A Journal of Lesbian and Gay Studies, 15:1 (2009): p. 42.
360 Jackson, p. 58.169
on Arcadie's goals. Forever influenced by his seminarian past,
Baudry often railed against the perceived lechery of France's
early gay subculture and sought to change it through “dignified”
social events.361 In 1952 he explained, “I am profoundly convinced
that there is more and more of a degradation in this life...Far
from me to want a holy homosexuality, free of carnality, out of
time and space, but how I would like not to be sullied by the
herd, or sullied when I meet these boys who have nothing of boys
about them.”362 Like its American counterparts, the Association
Arcadie benefited—at least in part—from its strong leadership and
continued to operate into the 1980s under Baudry’s watchful, if
slightly moralistic, eye.
Since homosexuality was not explicitly criminalized in
France during the 1950s, there was less need for the kind of
institutionalized secrecy practiced by the Mattachine Society.363
361 Jackson, p. 61.362 Jackson, p. 67. 363 Jackson pp. 48-50, 99-100; Though legal measures were not in place that
specifically criminalized homosexuality, Baudry often had to defend Arcadie against the conservatism of the general public and the legal system. Defending his publication from state censorship in 1956, Baudry hired the famous lawyer Paul Baudet who argued that articles in Arcadie displayed a “high moral and literary tone” and that the organization was “not a kind offreemasonry” but a group that discussed issues shared by like-minded people. Jackson, p. 85.
170
Although articles published in Arcadie were often written under
pseudonyms364 to protect the author from persecution by the
general public, Baudry encouraged the open discussion of
homosexuality free from the constraints of anonymity. Commenting
on the importance of open meetings, he even noted the importance
of occasional public education:
Manifesting oneself in public...is sometimes necessary. It seems to be useful to inform, to teach, to present homosexuality, above all without accompanying it with biblical or sociological condemnations while not of course covering it in flowers either...it exists. That is all. It has its place in life. It has the right to be respected and to be studied...I do not admit this idea of silence, of prudishness, of lies, of fear.365
If not by design, Arcadian “culture” was relatively exclusive in
practice. As Jackson noted, “To join the Arcadian 'family', one
first had to find it. The greatest obstacle at the beginning was
invisibility.”366 Since its early meetings took place wherever
Baudry could find space, Arcadie could be illusive to aspiring
members. In April 1957, however, the organization made its first
steps out of the proverbial closet when it acquired its first
364 In the first issue of Arcadie, half of the contributors wrote under pseudonyms. Jackson, p. 74-75.
365 Jackson, p. 71. 366 Jackson, p. 135.
171
permanent club on the Rue Beranger to be used for lectures,
films, exhibitions, theatrical events and, perhaps more
popularly, for dancing.367 Still—even in possession of this
dedicated social space and the relatively minimal legal
restrictions against homosexuality in France—Baudry managed the
finances of the group's new club through a shell company
(bizarrely titled “Literary and Scientific Club of the Latin
Countries”) in order to avoid persecution by the general
public.368
Throughout its history, the American homophile movement was
aware of Arcadie's existence. The back cover of the homophile
publication ONE included contact information for major European
homophile publications including Arcadie, which was billed as a
“literary and scientific monthly with infrequent photos and
drawings.”369 The Rue Beranger address and contact information for
Acradie was listed, along with other European groups, in the 1965
ECHO program.370 And, at times, Baudry even contributed to
American homophile publications.371 More generally, in September 367 Jackson, pp. 151, 154.368 Jackson, pp. 91-92. 369 See, for example, ONE, 4:8, December 1956: pp. 39-40. 370 East Coast Homophile Organizations, 1965 Conference Program (1965): p. 10.371 Baudry, Andre, “The Homosexual in France,” ONE 3:2 (February, 1955) p.
172
1953, ONE's business manager William Lambert noted in a letter
that his magazine had subscribers in France as well as a number
of other countries.372
Eventually, however, Arcadie also fell victim to militant
youth. According to Jackson, the “Stonewall of French
homosexuality” occurred on March 1971, when a panel of experts
(which Baudry was a part of) was gathered to debate the “painful
problem” of homosexuality. During the debate, activists seized
the opportunity and disrupted the proceedings by demanding
“liberty” and yelling “Fight!” Shortly thereafter these militants
formed the more radical group known as the Homosexual
Revolutionary Action Front. As was the case in the United States,
former members of the Association Arcadie joined the new radicals
in their efforts to press for civil and social equality.373
By adopting the characteristics of an abeyance structure,
the Association Arcadie offers additional support for Taylor's
theory. The initial call to action, issued by the centralized
leadership structure manifest in Andre Baudry, demanded a
21-23.372 Report. SAC Los Angeles to Director of FBI. “Changed The Mattachine
Society; ONE Inc.” 12/31/53. 100-403326-7. 373 Jackson, pp. 183-184.
173
purposive commitment from potential members. In exchange, the
organization provided solidarity in a national subculture
centered on the publication of the “academic” Arcadie journal. As
time goes on and more monographs are added to the historiography
of the gay rights movement, homophile organizations may yet be
remembered not only as important features of the American
experience, but also as an essential component of a transnational
movement.
-------------------------------------Closing Comments
In 1970, Bayard Rustin delivered a commencement address at
the Tuskegee Institute in Alabama. In this speech, Rustin
theorized that, “History is a dialectical process. It consists of
alternating periods of movement and stagnation, of action and
reaction, of tremendous hope and enthusiasm…followed by a
descent.”374 When viewed through the lens of social movement
theory, the history of the gay rights movement supports this
theory.
When Harry Hay founded the Mattachine Society in 1951, he
had ambitious political goals and grand theories of cultural
374 D'Emilio, Lost Prophet, p. 477.174
minoritization. Over the next three years, the organization he
developed brought hope to hundreds of gay men and women inside
and outside the United States. In 1953, the “Lavender Scare”
forced the Mattachine Society to reorganize and ease itself into
the “reactionary” role of an abeyance structure. Dressed in their
iconic grey flannel suits and pencil skirts, the men and women of
the post-1953 Society sponsored public education programs and
cooperated with academics on medical and psychiatric research
with the hope that they could cultivate a more accepting future.
Impatient with the “slow progress” of the assimilationists,
homophile organizations on the east coast (including the
Mattachine Society of New York, the Mattachine Society of
Washington, and the Janus Society) added direct action to the
tactical repertoire of their movement. The actions of these
“homophile militants” over the course of the 1960s and their
formation of regional and national networks of communication
(like ECHO, NACHO, and ERCHO) laid the groundwork for a more
radical movement. It was within the tumultuous sociopolitical
climate of the 1960s that the Stonewall Riots occurred. From 1969
to 1971, the transformation from abeyance to full-fledged social
175
movement was finally completed. The new liberation movement, led
by radicals within the Gay Liberation Front and the Gay Activists
Alliance fought, not for integration or assimilation, but for
power and liberation.
Had this new generation of activists looked more closely at
their recent history, they might have appreciated how far they
had come in the space of just a few decades. To paraphrase the
sociologist Verta Taylor, the gay liberation movement did not
develop spontaneously within a vacuum; rather, it built upon the
principles and tactical repertoire developed by the generation
that preceded it. Far from standing meekly on the sidelines, the
homophiles of the 1950s dared to speak and act in concerted
campaigns despite repressive laws and social pressure to conform.
It was through these lines of communication and cooperation that
the Mattachine Society of Washington (and its fellow ERCHO
affiliates) was able to draw homophiles from several states
together for its fifth Annual Reminder. Such direct actions were
“perfected” later by the gay liberationists in their use of
marches, pickets, and “zaps,” but these tactics began with the
homophile movement. Beyond their organizational roots, the men
176
and women who participated in the new “gay liberation” movement
often possessed personal histories of activism that stretched
back to the 1950s. Although both MSW and MSNY ultimately
dissolved in the 1970s, Frank Kameny, Dick Leitsch, Foster
Gunnison Jr., and Bob Martin continued to fight for civil and
social equality as members or supporters of the new liberation
organizations.
For good reason, historians often study subjects that they
are not personally connected to in order to maintain their
professional “objectivity.” I am not one of those historians. I
have a vested interest in my subject; every day, I live my life
influenced by the actions of the individuals whom I study. When I
came out of the closet six years ago today (5/5/2014), I was not
rejected by my parents, my relatives, or my classmates. I was
accepted for who I am. Today, I am able to submit a master’s
thesis that, just fifty years ago, might have been labeled
“inappropriate” or “obscene” merely for discussing what Oscar
Wilde called “the love that dare not speak its name.”
More generally, gay men and lesbians are now free to marry
in seventeen of the fifty United States, “curative” therapies and
177
associated psychiatric quackery has been thoroughly discredited
by the American Psychological Association, and discrimination
based on sexual orientation in the work place has been curtailed.
Even religious institutions have tempered slightly since the
1950s, with a number of denominations opening their doors to gay
men and women. We owe these advances to the homophiles and the
liberationists who fought for the rights that were denied to them
by institutions that claimed to support their interests. In the
sixty-three years since Harry Hay founded the Mattachine Society,
we have come a long way and learned a great deal, but there is
still much to be done.
Within and outside the gay community, knowledge of our
history is minimal. The generation of gay men and women that grew
up in the wake of the AIDs crisis were left with even fewer
living ancestors than the generation before. General history
textbooks, notoriously slow to adopt additions to their
narratives, often exclude the efforts of the Mattachine Society
and the Gay Liberation Front. Outside of the academy, homophobia
provides the gay community with a persistent enemy that claims
the lives of men and women every year. Globally, and of even more
178
pressing importance, gay men and women are still subject to the
death penalty in ten countries.
But this too can change. If we have learned anything from
the history of the gay rights movement it is that by cooperating
with one another and confronting injustice we can guide social
and political action. In time, the global community will put
pressure on those governments that institutionalize hatred and
bigotry and homophobia in the United States and abroad will
gradually dissipate. Finally, students, educators, and scholars
will add to this historiography and the gay rights movement will
find its rightful place in the narrative of American history.
179
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Primary Sources-------------------------------------
MSNY Archive Documents
Author's Note: Documents listed in this section were drawn from the MattachineSociety of New York's records available on microfilm through the Library of Congress (“The Gay Rights Movement--Mattachine Society of New York, Inc.,” Microfilm 2011/160). A portion of the author's record of “reel numbers” was, unfortunately, lost before the assembly of this bibliography. Where possible, the reel number has been listed, but some are missing. Multiple entries from the same author have been organized chronologically.
Annnual Reminder Day Committee. “Press Release.” June 30, 1966. (Reel 9)
Clark, Nancy. Report of ECHO Meeting. November 6, 1965 (Reel 9).
Committee on Unity. “Resolutions Recommended to the Conference for Adoption.” August 14, 1968 (Reel 8).
de Dion, Albert to Dale Lane. July 26, 1960.
Donaldson, Stephen. Recommended NAHC By-Laws. August 13, 1966. (Reel 8)
Donaldson Stephen. Comments on the By-Laws Proposed by the Unity Committee. August 13, 1966. (Reel 8)
Donaldson, Stephen to Foster Gunnison Jr. March 29, 1967.
Donaldson, Stephen to Foster Gunnison Jr., April 11, 1967.
Donaldson, Stephen. “Minutes of the First Meeting of the Executive Committee of the Eastern Regional Homophile Conference.” April 13, 1968.
Donaldson, Stephen. “Article 16 of ERCHO By-Laws (Credentials Program).” February 1, 1970.
East Coast Homophile Organizations. “Minutes of the First Meeting.” February, 6th 1965.
East Coast Homophile Organizations. Brochure. September 24-26, 1965.
East Coast Homophile Organizations. “The 1965 Conference of the East Coast Homophile Organizations.” Undated (Reel 9).
Eastern Regional Homophile Conference. “Homophile Groups Convene in New York Decide to Promote Political Action by Homosexuals--Oppose Reagan Candidacy.” January, 1968.
186
Eastern Regional Conference of Homophile Organizations. “Report of the New York Cooperation Committee.” July 26, 1968.
Eastern Regional Conference of Homophile Organizations. “Address List (Not ForPublic).” October 27, 1968.
Eastern Regional Conference of Homophile Organizations. 4th Annual Reminder Day Flyer. 1968.
Eastern Regional Conference of Homophile Organizations. 5th Annual Reminder Day Flyer. 1969.
Frazer, Joan. “A History of ECHO.” ECHO Conference Brochure. 1964 (Reel 9).
Frazer, Joan. “A History of ECHO.” ECHO Conference Brochure. 1965 (Reel 9).
Greenberg, Bruce (Corresponding Secretary of MSNF) to Richard Leitsch. April 11, 1970.
Gunnison Jr., Foster. Annotated business card. 1965 (Reel 9).
Gunnison Jr., Foster to Barbara Gittings and Kay Tobin. February 7, 1967.
Gunnison Jr., Foster. “Credentials Planning Program, Discussion Bulletin #4.” March 6, 1967.
Gunnison Jr., Foster to Stephan Donaldson, March 21, 1967.
Hodges, Julian to Garfield Nichol. August 10, 1965 (Reel 9).
Kameny, Frank. East Coast Homophile Organizations Treasurer's Report. April 3,1965.
Kameny, Frank Chairman, Eastern Regional Conference of Homophile Organizationsto Eastern Homophile Organizations and Others Interested. 1969.
King, Robert et. al. 1965 ECHO Conference Proceedings. 1965 (Reel 9).
Leitsch, Dick to Mr. Bradley, Hotel New Yorker. March 5, 1965 (Reel 9).
Leitsch, Dick to Sam Overton. The Village Voice. March 11, 1965 (Reel 9).
Leitsch, Dick to Tom Kahn. July 7, 1965.
Leitsch, Dick to Robert Koch. July 28, 1965 (Reel 9).
187
Leitsch, Dick. Handwritten Concluding Remarks. September, 1965 (Reel 9).
Leitsch, Dick to Barbara Gittings. June 24, 1969.
Leitsch, Dick to Jack Campbell (Mattachine of Cleveland). March 2, 1970.
Long, Jr., Howard W. Advertising Director, National Review to Glenn Raymond, Advertising Director, East Coast Homophile Organizations (March 26, 1965). (Reel 9)
The Mattachine Society of New York. Constitution and By-Laws. March 14, 1962 (Reel 9).
The Mattachine Society of New York to The Pig in the Poke, March 1st 1964.
The Mattachine Society of New York. Call Logs. August 1965--December 4, 1965.
The Mattachine Society of New York to The Members and Friends of MSNY. 1965.
The Mattachine Society of New York. “Newsletter Draft.” 1966 (Reel 8)
The Mattachine Society of New York (Michal Kotis, President). “MSNY Rejects Its Treasurer's Views of Militants.” 1970. (Reel 8)
The Mattachine Society of Washington. The Constitution of the Mattachine Society of Washington. August 27, 1963 (Reel 9).
The Mattachine Society of Washington. “Why Are Homosexuals Picking the U.S. Civil Service Commission?” 1965.
The Mattachine Society of Washington. “News Release: Homosexuals to Picket Pentagon.” July 29, 1965.
The Mattachine Society of Washington. “Information Bulletin re: State Department Protest.” August, 1965.
Raymond, Glenn to Classified Advertising Department. The New Republic. March 12, 1965.
Snow, J. Hudson to Mattachine Society of New York. August 16, 1965 (Reel 9).-------------------------------------
FBI Documents
Author's Note: A full record of the FBI's files on the Mattachine Society are available online at http://vault.fbi.gov/mattachine-society.
SAC San Francisco to Director of FBI. “The Mattachine Foundation aka The
188
Mattachine Society.” 7/14/1953. 100-403320-obscured.
SAC Los Angeles to Director of FBI. “The Mattachine Society.” 12/31/53. 100-403326-7
Report. SAC Los Angeles to Director of FBI. “Changed The Mattachine Society; ONE Inc.” 12/31/53. 100-403326-7.
-------------------------------------Periodicals
Authors Note: Due to the occasionally incomplete records of EBSCOhost, some articles were not accompanied by page numbers.
Adkins, Warren, Kay Tobin, and Barbara Gittings. “Report ECHO '64: Parts 1-3” The Ladder. 9:4. January 1965: p. 5.
Adkins, Warren, Kay Tobin, and Barbara Gittings. “Report ECHO '64: Part 4” TheLadder. 9:5/6. February/March 1965: pp. 13-17.
“Advertisement.” New York Times. September 23, 1963: p. 26
Associated Press. “Pickets Demand Fair Treatment for Homosexuals.” The Sunday Star. May 30, 1965.
Bart, Peter. “War Role Sought for Homosexuals.” The New York Times. April 17, 1966: p. 12.
Baudry, Andre. “The Homosexual in France.” ONE. 3:2. February, 1955: pp. 21-23
Burke, Tom. “The New Homosexuality.” Esquire. December 1969: p. 316.
Cervantes, Madolin. “Whither The Militants?” The Advocate. 4:?. January, 1970: pp. 4, 7.
Cory, Donald Webster, and John P. LeRoy. “The ECHO of a Growing Movement.” ONE. 12:1. January 1964: p. 25
Daniels, David L. “Homophile Diaspora” ONE Magazine. 9:6. June, 1961: p. 9.
“East Coast Homophile Organizations Discuss Civil Rights.” ONE. 12:11. November, 1964: p. 26.
Gunnison Jr., Foster. “Logic and the Ethics of Sex.” The Homosexual Citizen. 1:12.December 1966: pp. 13-17.
Gunnison Jr., Foster. “The Hidden Bias: The Homophile Movement and Law Reform.” The Homosexual Citizen. 2:3. March, 1967: pp. 11-12.
189
“Homosexuals Ask Candidates' Ideas: Seek Views on Penalties--'Bill of Rights' Urged.” New York Times. August 19, 1968.
Legg, Dorr. “One Midwinter Institute: A Report by W.Dorr Legg.” ONE. 9:4. April 1961: p. 5.
Lyon, Phyllis and Del Martin. “The Homosexual Citizen in the Great Society.” The Ladder. 10:4 January 1966: p. 9.
MacA, I. “Highlights from East Coast Homophile Organizations Conference Speeches.” Tangents. 1:2. November 1965: p. 12.
Martello, Leo Louis. “Gay Liberators Confront N.Y. Mayoral Candidates.” Advocate. 3:11. December 1969.
Martin, Del. “No To NACHO: Why DOB Cannot Belong Legally.” The Ladder. 13:11/12.August 1969: p. 2.
ONE, 4:8, December 1956: pp. 39-40.
ONE. 5:4. April 1957: p. 24.
“Other Organizations and Their Work.” The Mattachine Review. 10:4-9. April, 1964.
Overseth, Marcus. “Inside Look at Where We Stand.” San Francisco Free Press. 1:9. 1969.
Schumach, Murray. “Columbia Charters Homosexual Group.” New York Times. May 3, 1967.
Shotwell, Jody. “ECHO Convention '63.” The Ladder. 8:3. December 1, 1963: p. 8.
Shotwell, Jody. “East Coast Homophile Organizations Discuss the Great Society.” Tangents 1:2. November 1965: p. 10.
Tobin, Kay. “Picketing: The Impact & The Issues.” The Ladder. 9:12. 1965: pp. 4-5
United Press International. “Pickets Call Nation Unfair to Deviates.” The Washington Post. May 30, 1965.
White, Jean. “Homophile Groups Argue Civil Liberties.” The Washington Post. October 11, 1964: p. B10
-------------------------------------Other
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“East Coast Homophile Organizations Preconference Report.” in Resources for Research on Regional Organizations in the 1960s. The Rainbow History Project. http://www.rainbowhistory.org/html/echo.htm
Gittings, Barbara. “Minutes of Eastern Regional Homophile Conference.” The Rainbow History Project. http://www.rainbowhistory.org/pdf/echo1964.pdf
Gittings, Barbara to “Friends”. January 1970. in Resources for Research on Regional Organizations in the 1960s. The Rainbow History Project http://www.rainbowhistory.org/pdf/erchoinvitation.pdf.
Kameny, Frank. “'Gay Is Good' Resolution Adopted Unanimously by the NACHO.” August 1968. in Resources for Research on Regional Organizations in the 1960s. The Rainbow History Project http://www.rainbowhistory.org/html/echo.htm.
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Photographic Appendix
Window of the Stonewall Inn after the riots (1969)
The Mattachine Society's Founding Fathers (year unknown)Harry Hay (upper left), then (l–r) Konrad Stevens, Dale Jennings, Rudi
Gernreich, Stan Witt, Bob Hull, Chuck Rowland (in glasses), Paul Bernard.
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1965 ECHO Program Cover
1965 ECHO ConferenceKneeling at far left: Julian Hodges next to Dick Leitsch; Kneeling at far
right: Dick Gayer. Standing: Second from Left, Clark Polak; fourth fromleft, Shirley Willer; fifth from left, Jack Nichols; on Nichols' right,
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Bill Beardemphl; Ssecond from right, Frank Kameny; fourth from right, BobBasker (founder of Mattachine Midwest)
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Members of MSNY being refused service at the Julius sip-in
The Gay Activist Alliance at the 1970 Christopher Street Liberation Day Parade
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