Cold Open

It’s approaching midnight on August 5th, 1969 in Atlanta, Georgia.

Inside a movie theater in the Ansley Mall shopping center, a young woman named Abby Drue settles down in her seat.

Abby has come to watch a screening of the movie Lonesome Cowboys, the Western parody directed by the visual artist, Andy Warhol. Due to its homoerotic content, Lonesome Cowboys is being shown secretively and after hours. Most of the audience tonight are members of the queer community. Homosexuality is still considered a criminal offense in much of the United States, so these people are accustomed to hiding their true identities in public. But tonight, inside this theater, is one of the rare occasions they can be themselves.

Excited whispers ripple through the theater as the lights go down… and the whirr of the projector starts up.

Abby grabs a fistful of popcorn and eats it hungrily, her face illuminated by the blue-tinted glow of the cinema screen.

She and the entire audience are transfixed, completely absorbed, until a piercing whistle shatters the illusion.

The theater's doors fly open, and a squadron of police officers storm into the room. 

Abby whips her head around in panic. But she is blinded by the beam of a cop’s flashlight. She hears one of her friends cry out: “we’re being raided!”. And her heart starts to pound furiously. She thinks about running, but it’s no use.

The police have them cornered. 

Along with the seventy other audience members, the cops march Abby and her friends outside.

Abby flinches as an officer pushes her hard against the wall. He demands to see ID. Abby hands it over, scowling with rage. After checking her driver’s license. The cop lifts up a camera… and takes Abby’s photograph.

Abby knows the photograph will likely appear in tomorrow’s newspaper alongside her name, and a description of the so-called crime she is guilty of merely being a lesbian. It will likely cost her her job.

Abby watches, simmering with fury, as the officers escort the theater's owner and projectionist in handcuffs to a squad car. 

They're shoved inside, doors closed, and then the car speeds away into the Georgia night.

Six weeks before police raided this movie theater in Atlanta, a similar event took place in New York City. There, in a bar called the Stonewall Inn in Greenwich Village, a routine police raid sparked full-blown riots, as gay people stood up for themselves against the police. Those riots would eventually change the face of LGBTQ+ rights in America. But at the time, the impact of Stonewall was only felt in New York. In the Deep South, very little changed. The gay rights movement there needed a spark of its own. And that spark came when the Ansley Mall movie theater in Atlanta was raided on August 5th, 1969.

Intro

From Noiser and Airship, I’m Lindsay Graham and this is History Daily.

History is made every day. On this podcast—every day—we tell the true stories of the people and events that shaped our world.

Today is August 5th, 1969: The Lonesome Cowboys Raid.

Act One: The Lavender Scare

It’s February 9th, 1950, inside a conference room in Wheeling, West Virginia; 19 years before the Atlanta raid.

A United States Senator named Joseph McCarthy stands to address the Wheeling Republican Women’s Club. Today’s event has been organized in honor of the upcoming anniversary of Abraham Lincoln’s birthday. McCarthy is supposed to be speaking about Lincoln’s life and legacy, but he has other ideas. McCarthy has prepared a speech he hopes will advance his own dwindling career.

Since his election to the senate in 1947, political life has been disappointing for Joseph McCarthy. And he is afraid he'll spend his career giving inconsequential speeches in inconsequential towns like Wheeling. McCarthy knows that if people are ever going to listen to him, he needs to make a bold statement – something that will cause a splash.

So today, McCarthy clears his throat and begins his speech.

He launches into a diatribe about the Cold War between America and the Soviet Union. McCarthy’s dark eyes blaze with feeling as he describes the state of the world as he sees it, declaring: “we are engaged in a final, all-out battle between communistic atheism and Christianity.” Above all, McCarthy insists, the Cold War is a moral struggle between good and evil. And those evil forces are not merely confined to the Soviet Union; they can be found right here in America.

McCarthy claims the U.S. government is crawling with traitors. Or, as he calls them, “enemies from within”. McCarthy produces a piece of paper and holds it aloft. He alleges it's a list of 205 names of known communists working in the U.S. state department. In truth, there is no list of names on the paper. But as he watches the shocked faces of his audience, McCarthy is confident that America will finally pay attention to him.

And sure enough, word of McCarthy’s speech spreads like wildfire. The media takes an immediate interest and soon, newspapers across the country are publishing reports about McCarthy’s allegations. McCarthy doesn’t provide any evidence to substantiate his claims, but his stories of communists in the government help spark a moral and political panic across the United States.

Eleven days later, McCarthy addresses the U.S. Senate. Puffed up on self-righteousness, he lambasts previous administrations for allowing so many communists to infiltrate the government. A palpable sense of discomfort hangs over the Senate floor. Many Senators doubt the legitimacy of McCarthy’s claims, but nobody is willing to speak out for fear of being accused themselves.

Then, McCarthy starts speaking about other security risks in government. One group, in particular, comes under attack: the queer community. McCarthy states that this community is “mentally twisted” and “morally weak” and is, therefore, more susceptible to communist ideology. He goes on to cite two anonymous cases in which the government knowingly employed gay men. Hostile murmurs ripple through the room.

In 1950, homophobia is deeply embedded within American politics. During the 1930s and 40s, President Franklin D. Roosevelt introduced a wave of federally-funded programs to combat the Great Depression. The so-called “New Deal” created a raft of new government jobs in Washington, and flooded the capital with young men and women of different identities and sexualities. During World War II, official attitudes towards homosexuality were slightly more tolerant, because it was considered more important to concentrate on winning the war. But after the war ended, things changed…

In the new Cold War with the Soviet Union, many Americans considered it vitally important to be morally superior to their godless communist enemies. And this has led to a crackdown against people deemed “perverse” by the mainstream.

The demonization of the queer community was codified in 1948 by the Sexual Psychopath Law, which criminalized homosexuality and framed it as a mental disorder. Following the law’s passing, the State Department ramped up its efforts to identify members of the queer community in government jobs and dismiss them. By 1950, nearly 100 government employees have been fired because of their sexual orientation. But these dismissals were kept quiet for fear of a public backlash. And after McCarthy’s speech though, many in the government feel emboldened to take action against the queer community, loudly and out in the open.

Members of Congress launch an investigation and a report is issued entitled: Employment of Homosexuals and Other Sex Perverts in Government. The investigation finds that close to 5,000 gay and lesbian people have been identified in the military and federal workforces over the past three years, and all were fired.

This purge of gay people from the government will later become known as the “Lavender Scare”. But for those who contributed to this wave of intolerance, their campaign will soon backfire. As thousands lose their jobs, some refuse to accept the injustice lying down; and begin a resistance.

During the 1950s, the first gay rights organizations spring up in the United States, groups like the Mattachine Society and the Daughters of Bellitis. This atmosphere of resistance will eventually lead to a violent clash between police and activists in New York City, triggering the birth of a new movement.

Act Two: Stonewall

It’s June 27th, 1969 in New York City; six weeks before the Lonesome Cowboys raid.

On an unseasonably hot Friday night, an 18-year-old boy named Mark Segal strolls down Christopher Street in Greenwich Village.

Mark recently moved to New York from Philadelphia. As a gay man growing up during a time of intolerance, it was a revelation for Mark to find a place like Greenwich Village.

The Village, as it’s known, is a progressive enclave and the epicenter of “hippie” culture in America. Mark quickly found a community of like-minded young people, and it seemed a million miles from his conservative upbringing in Pennsylvania.

Still, life is far from easy for Mark. He’s currently living on the streets, relying on the kindness of strangers for food and, occasionally, shelter. But tonight, Mark is excited by the prospect of having a good time. He's meeting up with friends and going dancing in a popular gay bar, the Stonewall Inn.

Mark crosses the street, joining his friends, who wait outside the door of the bar, while the bouncer looks them up and down through a secret peephole. Once it’s been established that they aren’t undercover cops, the door swings open, and Mark and his friends step inside the music-and-smoke-filled bar.

Mark is well-acquainted with this routine.

In 1969, homosexuality is still criminalized in every US state except Illinois. For this reason, bars like the Stonewall would be closed down if they were seen to be catering to gays and lesbians. Earlier in the 1960s, when the authorities started cracking down on gay bars across the city, organized crime groups seized the opportunity. In 1966, the Mafia took over the management of the Stonewall, charging extortionate prices for watered-down drinks – and using the portion of the profits to pay off the police.

Despite these bribes though, police raids are still a regular occurrence. Once a month, the authorities forcibly close down the Stonewall, only allowing the establishment to reopen once they’ve received a substantial kickback…

But tonight as Mark wends his way across the crowded dance floor, he isn’t thinking about the danger of a raid. He loves coming to the Stonewall. For him, and many others, the Stonewall is a precious sanctuary, a place of self-expression in a world that forbids him from being himself. So Mark orders a drink at the bar, then joins his friends beneath the pulsing, flashing lights, ready to enjoy one night of being himself.

But a few hours later, at about 1:20 AM, Mark hears a loud crash. He turns around in time to see eight people striding through the bar’s double doors. Mark can tell from their drab clothes and stony faces that these aren’t ordinary patrons… they’re cops.

Mark tugs his friend’s sleeve to warn him, but it isn’t necessary. A second later the music stops and the lights come up. One of the officers shouts: “Police! We’re taking the place.”

The revelers are forced to show their IDs before filing out onto the street. At first, the atmosphere is light-hearted. This is, after all, a common occurrence. Mark and his friends hang around on the sidewalk, laughing and joking with the other patrons.

But the mood changes…

Some of the officers start behaving aggressively, violently shoving people onto the street. When one cop manhandles a drag queen, she strikes the officer around the head with her handbag. A few onlookers laugh – but it’s clear the scene is on the verge of turning ugly.

Mark notices it too, how the crowd outside has swelled to several hundred people. Realizing they’re significantly outnumbered, the police officers begin to back off, taking cover inside the bar.

It’s stiflingly warm and humid. Mark breathes in the smell of heated asphalt mingled with cheap perfume and spilled drinks. Among those in the crowd, there’s a sense of restless energy, a feeling of pent-up anger rising rapidly to the surface…

The tension ratchets up when a fleet of police cars screeches up to the curb, their sirens wailing.

Someone throws a coin at the vehicles. And then, a bottle flies smashing against a windshield. Soon, a barrage of garbage, bricks, and bottles rains down on the cop cars. Somebody shouts “Gay power!” and somebody else yells: “We shall overcome!” Mark finds himself carried with the crowd as they surge forward, chanting and hurling projectiles.

Eventually, even more, officers turn up, this time wearing riot gear. They disperse the crowd with truncheons and tear gas. And by 4 AM, things have quieted down. But the riots are far from over. Before leaving the scene, somebody hands Mark a piece of chalk and a set of instructions. The homeless teenager runs off down the street, scrawling the words “TOMORROW NIGHT STONEWALL” on the sidewalk.

And over the next few nights, gay activists will continue to protest outside the Stonewall, taking a stand against persecution and abuse. For the first time it seems, LGBTQ people are fighting back against oppression; and in the process, are laying the foundations for an organized gay rights movement. Following the Stonewall riots, groups like the Gay Liberation Front and the Gay Activists Alliance will rise in New York, and one year after the riots, the first-ever Gay Pride parade will pass through the city.

But while the Stonewall Riots will spark a gay liberation movement in New York, it will have little effect on gay life elsewhere in America. It will take another raid, just over a month later, to spark a similar sense of outrage in the Deep South, and to inspire queer communities in the city of Atlanta to launch a revolution of their own.

Act Three: Lonesome Cowboys

It’s August 1969, a few days after the Lonesome Cowboys raid.

A meeting is taking place inside the New Morning Café in Atlanta, not far from the Emory University campus. So many people have crammed inside this small coffee shop there’s hardly any room to stand. A curly-haired man wearing black sunglasses climbs onto a chair and looks around the room, impressed by the turnout.

Bill Smith is a gay rights activist. Even though he wasn’t there, Bill was outraged when he heard about the recent raid on the Ansley Mall theater interrupting the screening of Lonesome Cowboys.

For Bill, and many other gay people in Atlanta, this was the final straw in a long string of insults. There’s only a handful of establishments in Atlanta where LGBTQ people can feel safe. And one of those was the Ansley Mall theater. So this raid felt like a gross invasion of privacy, and the queer community of Atlanta isn’t going to stand for it any longer.

But Bill is softly-spoken and thoughtful. He isn’t a rabble-rouser, and he struggles to be heard over the excited chatter of the cafe. But eventually, the room falls quiet as Bill proposes forming a new organization to trumpet the cause of gay rights, and to provide a support system for anyone who feels persecuted for their sexuality. The audience claps and stamps with approval. And with that, the Georgia Gay Liberation Front, or GGLF, is born.

Over the course of the next few months, the GGLF gets to work registering queer voters across the state and protesting Georgia’s anti-sodomy law.

The following year, 125 people show up for Atlanta’s first Pride march, making it one of the earliest mass movements of LGBTQ+ people in the American south. The Atlanta march becomes a model, an inspiration for others. And soon the queer community in the south becomes more visible and more vocal than ever before. 

In 2010, a public art installation dedicated to the city’s LGBTQ community ended with a screening of Lonesome Cowboys at Ansley Square, where the Mall theater once stood; a memorial to the heroic efforts of those who were galvanized to fight for their rights following the Lonesome Cowboys raid, on August 5th, 1969.

Outro

Next on History Daily. August 8th, 1963. A gang of 15 criminals steal nearly 50 million dollars from a Royal Mail train, pulling off the largest train robbery in British history. 

From Noiser and Airship, this is History Daily, hosted, edited, and executive produced by me, Lindsay Graham.

Audio editing by Mollie Baack.

Sound design by Derek Behrens.

Music by Lindsay Graham.

This episode is written and researched by Joe Viner.

Executive Producers are Steven Walters for Airship, and Pascal Hughes for Noiser.