The Moscone-Milk Assassinations

It's late evening on May 21st, 1979, on Casco Street, one of San Francisco's predominantly gay neighborhoods.

Gay rights activist Cleve Jones can barely see the 500-strong crowd in front of him.

Tears well in his eyes, clouding his vision.

But he tries to address the crowd all the same.

Cleve talks passionately as mourners light candles in front of a picture of the man they've come to pay their respects to, Harvey Milk.

A year and a half ago, Harvey was elected to San Francisco's Board of Supervisors, making him the first openly gay person elected to public office in California.

But just six months ago, he and San Francisco Mayor George Moscone were gunned down by their vengeful former colleague, Dan White.

As Cleve finishes his speech, he leads the mourners on a peaceful march down Castro Street.

He wants to honor his late friend and also show the powers that be that San Francisco's gay community is hurting.

As they make a loop of the area, the crowd quickly swells to over a thousand.

Many of the new additions voice their anger at the verdict of Harvey's killer, who was convicted not of first degree murder, but voluntary manslaughter.

With the increase in numbers, the sense of injustice also blooms.

Cries of kill Dan White and we want justice echo through the street.

Marchers' mood turns violent as they find themselves at the steps of City Hall.

Now the 5,000-person crowd is met by police at the building's entrance.

But the officer's presence does little to de-escalate the tension.

Because Dan White was a former police officer, many of the marchers see his lenient verdict as the law protecting their own.

And the cop's presence tonight is viewed as an affront.

A rock is thrown from the crowd, shattering City Hall's glass entrance and any pretense of peace.

A riot begins.

Some protestors try to protect City Hall and urge calm, but many others surge toward the police.

The officers fight back with batons, and the night descends into anger and violence.

What will come to be known as the White Night Riots will continue well into the early hours of the morning.

Throughout the night, demonstrators fight with police and destroy patrol cars until tear gas is fired and finally quells the chaos.

Shortly after, a rogue contingent of police officers will organize their own raid on the Castro neighborhood, vandalizing a bar, assaulting its patrons and passers-by and shouting anti-gay slurs.

By the end of the night, 59 officers and 129 protestors will be injured and two dozen marchers will be arrested.

In the morning, the violence will be over, but many will continue to mourn the loss of local leaders, Harvey Milk and George Moscone, who were killed six months earlier on November 27, 1978.

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 November 27th, 1969, the Moscone Milk assassinations.

It's June 25th, 1978 in San Francisco, five months after Harvey Milk was elected to San Francisco's Board of Supervisors.

Milk stands at a microphone on a makeshift stage at the United Nations Plaza.

Today is San Francisco's Gay Freedom Day, and Milk is one of the celebration's esteemed speakers.

In front of him is a vast crowd of gay San Franciscans and the allies helping them fight for equal rights.

In their hands are rainbow flags, an object that will become a new symbol of LGBTQ pride starting today.

Full of emotion, Milk begins his speech.

He urges the gay community to come out of the shadows, fight for their rights and reject the discrimination and oppression they faced.

He calls for unity and visibility, emphasizing that silence will not lead to their liberation.

The crowd loves every word of it, but there's one spectator who is completely unmoved, Van White, a former police officer and fireman.

White is now one of Milk's colleagues on the city's board of supervisors, but he's not here to cheer, far from it.

White is at the parade to put forward his opposition to all that Milk champions in terms of equality and progress.

But not even detractors like White can dull the impact of Milk's performance.

Milk's impassioned speech cements his status as a master orator and champion of the people.

This event and his speech catapults his name and agenda onto the national stage.

And while Milk star rises after the freedom parade, he often becomes the target of Dan White's iron.

With Milk being a liberal progressive and White a church-going conservative, their diametrically opposed politics see the two involved in more than a few heated debates about the future of their city and country.

These arguments flare on the board of supervisors, where the conservatives hold a narrow six-five lead over the more liberal members.

When Milk puts forward a bill banning discrimination in housing and employment based on sexuality, White is the only board member to vote against it.

The two men's opposition to one another is heightened by the introduction of Proposition 6, a new ballot initiative to go before Californians in November.

The controversial law states openly gay men and women cannot be teachers.

White is for it and Milk against.

A few months after San Francisco's Gay Freedom Day, Milk is given the opportunity to voice his opposition in a debate with John Briggs, a conservative member of the California Senate and the sponsor of Prop 6.

The month before Californians are set to vote on the initiative, Harvey Milk and John Briggs meet at the new San Remo restaurant, full of politician reporters and an audience of stakeholders.

Milk takes a seat at a table covered in a white tablecloth, a stack of notes in his hand.

Briggs joins him, leaving just enough room for a moderator to sit between them.

As everyone settles in, television cameras begin to roll, recording the debate ready to air to the people of California.

The two politicians do their requisite introductions.

Then they get down to business.

Milk listens as Briggs recycles many of the same arguments that Milk has heard his entire life, saying that gays are trying to recruit their kind for the next generation, and the American way of life is at stake if gays aren't dealt with.

Milk endures the rhetoric patiently, quietly plotting his responses.

And when it comes his turn to speak, he does his best to address each of Briggs' arguments with logic and reason, as he advocates against discrimination and for equality.

He rebuffs Briggs' insinuation that homosexuality is a choice.

He states that people aren't made gay, they're born gay, and explains that gays are only fighting for the same rights as everyone else.

To many watching, Milk does a great job in putting forward his case.

When Californians head to the ballot box in November, Proposition 6 is not the winner Dan White, John Briggs, and many other conservatives are hoping for.

The measure is defeated by a margin of 58 to 42.

And in San Francisco, Dan White's district is the only one to vote in its favor.

This defeat will be a catalyst for change on the city's board of supervisors.

Three days after voters strike down Prop 6, Dan White will resign.

His departure will shift the board to a 6-5 liberal majority, paving the way for Harvey Milk and the city's progressive mayor to enact more fundamental change in San Francisco.

But before they can take advantage of this power, both politicians will become the victims of Dan White's violent revenge.

It's November 27th, 1978, inside San Francisco City Hall.

Mayor George Moscone sips on his second coffee of the day as he runs through the calendar with his secretary.

It's only Monday, but Moscone knows he has a busy week in front of him.

He's already feeling exhausted at the prospect of it.

As well as the usual meetings and visits, Moscone has one especially unpleasant task ahead of him.

He has to organize a press conference to let the media know that former city supervisor Dan White will not be returning to his role.

Two weeks ago, Dan White resigned after Proposition 6 failed to pass.

He cited the meager salary and restrictions around supervisors having second jobs as his reason for quitting.

But just days after resigning, White changed his mind.

And after some deliberation and consultation with conservative politicians, he wanted his job back.

One man who was not especially happy with this change of decision was Moscone's friend and fellow colleague on the board of supervisors, Harvey Milk.

Milk had rejoiced when White initially quit his role.

The two had come to loggerheads over a variety of issues, most prominently equal rights for gay San Franciscans.

So now Milk is doing everything he can to stop White from being reinstated.

He's fortunate to have the mayor on his side.

Moscone has never really liked to cause a scene and not reappointing White is proving to be a contentious issue.

White has many prominent backers on the board and some San Franciscans have already delivered a petition demanding his reinstatement.

But Milk has persuaded Moscone to stick to his guns and keep White from returning to the board.

After several lively debates about the pros and cons of making White a supervisor again, Moscone is content in his final decision.

He's aware that a liberal politician in Dan's old seat would make passing progressive legislature much simpler.

He tells himself that once the press conference is done and the announcement is official, things should begin to calm down.

It's the last thing Moscone wants to hear then when his secretary tells him Dan White is outside his office demanding a meeting.

It appears the confrontation the mayor hoped to sidestep can't be avoided.

He reluctantly tells his secretary to let White in.

And for the next five minutes, White is shouting at Moscone, ranting and raving about the injustice of the decision not to reinstate him.

As White grows more and more furious, Moscone tries to calm him down.

He invites White into his private back office and crosses over to the bar to pour him a drink.

When Moscone turns to offer White the beverage, White is holding a revolver and aiming it at the mayor.

Before Moscone can react, White pulls the trigger, sending a bullet tearing through the mayor's arm.

A second shot sends Moscone to the ground.

White kneels down and fires twice more into Moscone's skull, killing him instantly.

White then pockets the bullet casings into his jacket and reloads the gun.

Then he races out of the room and across the hall toward the office of Harvey Milk.

Milk is readying to go to the bank.

When White pops his head into Milk's office, calmly asks Milk if he has a minute to talk.

Seeking to avoid a heated confrontation, Milk agrees to follow his ex-colleague into White's old office.

But he's immediately met with violence.

As soon as Milk is inside and the door is closed, White pulls out his weapon again.

This time he fires a total of five shots.

The first three knock Milk to the ground, and the final two are once again point blank to the head.

Having successfully murdered both of his political enemies, White then races away from the scene of the crime.

He runs to a fast food restaurant where he calls his wife and asks her to meet him at St.

Mary's Cathedral.

There, White confesses to killing George Moscone and Harvey Milk.

Horrified, his wife convinces him to turn himself into the police.

The first person to find Harvey Milk's body, Board of Supervisors President Diane Feinstein, then breaks the news to the world.

With pale face and trembling body, she addresses the media.

Both Mayor Moscone and Supervisor Harvey Milk have been shot and killed.

The suspect is Supervisor Dan White.

Dan White's attorney will later argue that his client's crimes were the product of untreated manic depression.

Testimony by a psychiatrist will note that White had changed his normally healthy diet to one of junk food, citing that as evidence of White's depression.

This will be used to establish grounds for a diminished capacity plea, become known as the Twinkie Defense.

And the resulting verdict will devastate and shock the loved ones and constituents of the slave men George Moscone and Harvey Milk.

Thank It's May 21st, 1979, in an apartment on Castro Street in San Francisco, six months after George Moscone and Harvey Milk were assassinated.

Gay rights activist Cleve Jones shakes with anger as he speaks with a journalist on the phone.

He's just been asked for his opinion on the Dan White verdict.

After days of deliberation, the jury has convicted White of voluntary manslaughter, a far lesser crime than the first green murder charges he was initially up against.

White went from facing the possibility of the death penalty to being given a seven-year prison sentence.

This verdict has outraged many San Franciscans, especially members of its gay liberation movement, like Cleve.

Cleve says to the journalist that the judgment tells Americans it's okay to kill gay people.

Then ending the interview, he slams the phone down and promptly races to the bathroom to throw up.

Later that day, the White night riots play out, but come morning, the atmosphere of tension and anger is replaced by one of both celebration and sadness.

That next day, on what would have been Harvey Milk's 49th birthday, Cleve gathers over 20,000 San Franciscans to remember the late activists.

Unlike the previous night's rioting, today is intended to be a party, and Cleve opens the festivities with a speech honoring Milk and reminding those in attendance to not forget the anger of last night, but to use it as fuel for their activism going forward.

Then, stepping down from the podium, Cleve walks along Castro Street, taking in the tributes to his friend Milk.

He sees placards and graffiti carrying slogans from the politician's speeches.

On a marquee above a theater, the workers have erected a sign that simply says, Harvey Milk lives.

Before the night is over, Cleve rejoins the gathering as one by one, 20,000 voices begin to sing Happy Birthday.

Cleve weeps as they get to the final line.

Happy birthday, dear Harvey.

Happy birthday to you.

Later that year, over 75,000 Americans will march for gay rights through the streets of Washington DC.

Citing Harvey Milk as an inspiration, thousands of gay men and women will put their names forward for political positions in San Francisco and beyond.

Dan White will go on to serve five of his seven year prison sentence.

Two years after being released, he will die by suicide.

Meanwhile, the progressive politics of George Moscone and the equal rights fought for by Harvey Milk will live on and increasingly become part of mainstream American thinking.

In 2009, Harvey Milk will be posthumously awarded the Presidential Medal of Freedom.

More LGBTQ plus politicians will be elected in America every year until in 2023, queer politicians will number over a thousand.

In the wake of Moscone's death, the president of San Francisco's Board of Supervisors, Dianne Feinstein, who wasn't even planning on seeking re-election, will suddenly become the city's acting mayor.

She'll serve two terms before then being elected to the US.

Senate, where she will become the longest serving female senator in history until her death on September 29th, 2023.

And throughout it all, a central element of her political agenda will be gun safety, in large part in response to the murders of her colleagues, George Moscone and Harvey Milk, on November 27th, 1978.

Next, on History Daily, November 28th, 1942, a fire at the Coconut Grove in Boston kills nearly 500 of its occupants, making it America's deadliest nightclub disaster.

You From Noiser and Airship, this is History Daily.

Hosted, edited and executive produced by me, Lindsay Graham.

Sound design by Molly Bogg.

Music by Lindsay Graham.

This episode is written and researched by Owen Paul Nichols.

Executive producers are Alexandra Curry Buckner for Airship, and Pascal Hughes for Noiser.