Each time I visit my parents in South Florida I am amazed by the evolution of the gay scene. It was an exhilarating, yet terrifying, time when I first came out of the closet in Fort Lauderdale in 1988. The majority of LGBT people weren’t out and those who were formed a tight-knit, supportive community. This was reflected by the standard bar greeting – a hug – which was offered to friends and even strangers.
The majority of gay bars were located in out of the way places, and once inside were dimly lit and drenched in a haze of smoke. The crowd skewed older because the younger generation was still in hiding. A subset of men used pseudonyms because they were terrified of being outed.
It was a more dangerous time to be gay. When one walked on Federal Highway to get to the largest nightclub, The Copa, there was always the risk of hurled epithets or bottles. On rare occasions, police raided gay bars ostensibly looking for drugs – but there was a strong undercurrent of homophobia.
AIDS had taken a heavy toll on South Florida’s LGBT community. Seemingly healthy people would be dancing one week and in hospital beds the next. One balmy August evening, I met a 22 year-old at The Copa. In my naïveté, I asked why he was wearing a winter sweater. He told me that he had AIDS and was suffering from the chills. Within two years he had gone blind, caught pneumonia, and died.
The threat of AIDS was ubiquitous. People were fighting the disease, taking care of sick friends and partners, morning the loss of loved ones, or still HIV-negative and terrified of becoming infected. The scourge both destroyed and united a burgeoning community that had no one to depend on but themselves.
It was also an exciting time to be alive. The bars were full of energy and verve. There was no Internet, so people could not meet after the bars closed and the only other option was cruising in public spaces, such as Victoria Park. Although, with a large number of men still in the closet, there were fewer possibilities to meet someone special, which created, in some cases, the loneliness exploited by the extreme right. (As usual, they were the p
roblem, not the solution.)
By 1990, the scene had grown and largely gravitated to Miami’s South Beach. This was a time of gargantuan nightclubs, thumping music, and excess. It seemed, in my view, it was a grand form of escapism in the age of HIV. It was also a lot of fun and more young gay people began to gingerly step out of the closet. This trend was expedited by political radicalization with groups like Act-Up and Queer Nation raising consciousness and visibility. In the coming years, activist groups, such as the Gay & Lesbian Alliance Against Defamation (GLAAD) and the Human Rights Campaign (HRC) would encounter exponential growth, offering a more formal face of activism.
By the late 90’s, the LGBT and arts communities had restored the glory of the once shabby and dangerous South Beach and turned it into an international destination. Rents began to rise and many LGBT homeowners cashed out. While South Beach is still a remarkable place to vacation and has a vibrant gay scene, it is no longer the Gay Mecca it was in its heyday.
The energy has now shifted to Wilton Manors, a small city near Fort Lauderdale that used to be known for its honkytonks and trailer parks. Today, the main strip bustles and bursts with well-lit bars and jumping nightclubs, such as The Manor. It has high-fashion gay clothing stores like J. Miles, and gay restaurants, such as Rosie’s and Tropics. While many LGBT newspapers are closing nationwide, the local South Florida Gay News (SFGN) is thriving, offering a thick paper with real journalism.
Today, there are countless LGBT college age youth who can barely fathom what life was like in 1988 – only two years after the Supreme Court upheld sodomy laws in Bowers v. Hardwick.
The bar scene is more subdued and is usually packed with friends simply hanging out. The bulk of the cruising no longer takes place in dark bars or Victoria Park, but is done, for better or worse, with private phone Apps, such as Grindr and Scruff. AIDS is still a very real threat, but drugs that prolong life have diminished the immediate terror and limited public discussion of the disease.
The lives of LGBT people in South Florida are generally better, healthier, and people have significantly more career and romantic options than in 1988. On the flipside, this has meant a loss of community. Being gay is no longer sufficient to receive a hug at a bar – you actually have to have something in common with a person other than sexual orientation. This, it seems, is the price of progress.
I was 22 when I came out in 1977 and was more fortunate than many gays in that I live in a ‘blue’ state area and would drive with my friends to New Hope, PA, which was a fairly gay friendly ‘artists’ community’. The main watering hole back then was called The Prelude, which we called The Lewd for short. On weekends it was so crowded that you had to walk sideways and there was enough smoke in the air to gag a chimney. The only harassment we had was when the occasional car of straight teenagers would drive by and shout ‘fags’ out of the windows. That bar is gone now. I haven’t been there in a long time, but I’ve heard that the gay bars that have replaced it now have a mixture of gays and young straight couples who have no problem with partying with lgbt people. This is a good thing of course, but it was kinda nice when it was ‘just us’. Like you said, the price of progress.
In any bar there was always the guy that kept everybody’s spirits up with their antics. In his youth @ the University of Fla,, Mr. Besen was one of those guys! Ah, Wayne, the old days do have some wonderful memories, even in the face of tragedy.
Gone is much of the “in your face energy” of clubs like Paragon, with their baptismal House Music that flowed over you as you walked in the door and descended into a pool of half-dressed European models. Gone the intrigue of the Eagle and other dark, cruise bars, as “couples” fill Bear bars, like a Tupperware Party. Gone the huge activities that each organized March produced in NY, D.C., and cities all over. Within this decade, we may see the increasing minimization of PRIDE celebrations.
While wedding plans and strollers are a wonderful addition to the Gay community, they are at stark odds with boots and hankies. Gone are the obligatory tea dances in exchange for weekend family and couples time. Still a community in flux, as the single and the married go in different directions. Yes a cost for great things…
The old days do have some wonderful memories, even in the face of tragedy.
Gone is much of the “in your face energy” of clubs like Paragon, with their baptismal House Music that flowed over you as you walked in the door and descended into a pool of half-dressed European models.
Gone the intrigue of the Eagle and other dark, cruise bars, as “couples” fill Bear bars, like a Tupperware Party. Gone the huge activities that each organized March produced in NY, D.C., and cities all over. Within this decade, we may see the increasing minimization of PRIDE celebrations. Fire Island, Key West, and Provincetown have also seen a change in demographics.
While wedding plans and strollers are a wonderful addition to the Gay community, they are at stark odds with boots and hankies. Gone are the obligatory tea dances in exchange for weekend family and couples time. Still a community in flux, as the single and the married go in different directions. Yes a cost for great things…
This is a nice snapshot of history and culture as far as gay men are concerned, but I wonder where all the lesbians were in this piece of anthropologia. Helping tend to the sick AIDS-stricken men? Attending outdoor acoustic concerts?
Otherwise, it seems we were more of a side-item; we could walk around here without fear of harassment from straights, but there wasn’t really anything FOR us specifically.
Emily:
I’m glad you raised the point. In the scene I came out in, we did not see too many lesbians. The clubs were very segregated and I did not meet lesbians until college. My first real interaction was with my first organization after graduation.
But, this piece dealt with the club scene, which still remains heavily male. In all the bars I have gone to while home, I have seen very few lesbians, except for one bar — where they were very few men.
For this reason, I mainly avoided the topic. Now, had I been talking about other places I have lived it would have been a different story. For example, in Bangor, Maine and Fort Myers, the nightclubs were mixed.
I appreciate that Wayne, but constant use of the term “LGBT” confused me. It’s sort of like when a politician uses the term “Judeo-Christian” to describe what turns out to be only Christian theocratic views.
1977, I was a teacher and Anita Bryant was on a campaign to get rid of gay teachers. I moved to Chicago.