Bill Rushton: Journalist and Activist, Part One
William Faulkner Rushton, author, journalist, architectural critic and activist, 1947 - 1989. Photo from the Everett Collection.
In the ‘70s, a young journalist writing for a small New Orleans newspaper in the French Quarter broke some of the city’s most important stories.
– by Frank Perez
What do fire codes, brain surgery, and Anita Bryant have in common? Answer: Bill Rushton and the Vieux Carre Courier.
The Vieux Carré Courier occupies a prominent place in the pantheon of French Quarter history. From 1961 to 1978, the weekly newspaper was the voice of the French Quarter community and helped shape much public policy in New Orleans.
What started as a neighborhood publication soon gained a city-wide audience, due in no small part to its insightful investigative stories. The paper played a key role in helping defeat the proposed Riverfront Expressway by publishing William Borah and Richard Baumbach’s report on the ill-fated idea. Also, during its 17-year run, the Courier launched the careers of noted journalists such as Nicholas Lemann, Don Lee Keith, and Bill Rushton.
Rolland Golden's study for the masthead of the Vieux Carré Courier, courtesy THNOC, gift of Mr. and Mrs. John Bennett Elliot
Born in Louisville, Kentucky in 1947, Bill Rushton moved to Lake Charles, Louisiana with his family when he was twelve and later graduated from Tulane University with a degree in architecture. His journalism career began early. He worked as a reporter for the Lake Charles American Press when he was a high school student and then at Tulane’s student newspaper, The Hullabaloo.
At the Courier, Rushton quickly rose to become managing editor. There, he criticized many of the high rises that were being built in the C.B.D. in the 1970s and derisively suggested the name “Moonwalk” for the promenade along the Mississippi River fronting Jackson Square. To his annoyance, the name stuck.
Rushton eventually made his mark not only as a journalist but also as an architectural critic and author. In 1979, he published a much-quoted book called The Cajuns: From Acadia to Louisiana (one video interview with Rushton as author of this book is available in the Louisiana State Archives). After moving to New York where he worked for the City Planning Commission, he published another book called Metroplex, which was a collection of his essays on urban planning. A third book, Architect’s Alphabet, was published posthumously, after his death in 1987.
But of all his accomplishments, Rushton’s most lasting legacy is the work he did as a gay activist.
Rushton made no attempt to hide his sexuality from his colleagues at the Courier. They knew he was gay, and they didn’t care. Yet, Rushton felt the need to keep his gay life and his straight career separate. This was not unusual, given the time period, even in a bohemian workspace such as the offices of the Vieux Carré Courier.
Bethany Bultman, who worked with Rushton at the Courier and who is researching his life reflects, “I now realize Bill's gayness was an alternative universe from which he excluded us all (his close, hetero friends). He talked about ‘cruising’ all the time – Thursday being his ‘shopping night for weekend fun.’ He also took long lunches during the week at the ‘baths.’ Nothing hidden – he just didn't want us to get in the way of his gay life.”
And yet, Rushton’s “gay life” was intertwined with his career at the Courier. He was one of the few gay journalists not in the closet at the time. He used that freedom to shine a spotlight on issues important to the French Quarter’s sizeable queer population.
The Fire
After an arsonist set fire to a gay bar called the Up Stairs Lounge in 1973, the media covered the story for a day or two and then inexplicably dropped the story, despite the tragedy being the deadliest fire in New Orleans history. Conversely, Rushton and the Courier kept the story alive for weeks, treating the story with the attention it deserved and the victims with dignity.
In one article, Rushton focused on the silence of political and religious figures regarding the fire. There were no official statements from the mayor, no resolutions from the city council, and no declaration of a day of mourning. This lack of a response stood in stark contrast to the public reaction to the Howard Johnson and Rault Center fires, both of which took place before the Up Stairs Lounge fire. Because the victims were gay, the arson was not a crime that demanded to be solved.
“The regular crowd,” photos courtesy Johnny Townsend, from LGBTArchivesLouisiana.org.
On July 11, seventeen days after the fire, Mayor Moon Landrieu finally made his first statement about the fire at a press conference on a wide variety of issues. But instead of commenting on the loss of life or emotional trauma of the fire, Landrieu clinically stated he favored the implementation of statewide sprinkler laws for buildings. According to Tinderbox author Robert Fieseler, “Landrieu seemed ready to change the subject when Bill Rushton pressed the mayor about the ‘homosexual angle.’”
Landrieu replied, “I’m just as concerned about that life as any other life. I was not aware of any lack of concern in the community.”
For those not familiar with the fire, it is widely believed the arsonist was an unruly sex worker who was physically thrown out of the bar for badgering and fighting with a regular customer. As he was being escorted out of the bar, the suspect threatened to “burn you all out.” About thirty minutes later, a fire broke out in the stairwell.
Bartender Buddy Rasmussen managed to lead about twenty people to safety through a rear fire exit that was not clearly marked. Many patrons dashed for the windows, but the windows had bars to prevent tipsy revelers from falling out. A few men were skinny enough to squeeze through and drop to safety, but the others were doomed.
Thirty-two people died as a result of the arson. The suspect, who was never arrested, committed suicide the following year. Some believe he killed himself because he was filled with remorse. Initial media reports and the police response to the fire were less than sympathetic.
June 26, 1973, AP photo (photographer not identified on reverse), from the Wayne Phillips collection, courtesy LGBTArchivesLouisiana.org
While the media reaction was cruel and the police were nonchalant, most religious establishments turned their backs to the tragedy. Church after church refused the use of their facilities for a memorial service. However, Father Bill Richardson (himself a closeted gay man) of St. George’s Episcopal Church, believed the dead should have a service and allowed – over the protest of many parishioners – the use of St. George’s sanctuary for a prayer service on Monday night. It was attended by roughly 80 people. He was subsequently chastised by his bishop and received no small amount of hate mail. Days later, a Unitarian Church also held a small memorial service. A larger service was held on July 1 at St. Mark’s United Methodist Church on the edge of the French Quarter.
The Up Stairs arson attracted gay activists from all over the country to New Orleans. Reverend Troy Perry and others criticized the gay community of New Orleans for its apathetic attitude and general lethargy regarding the gay liberation movement, so much in vogue in other American cities at the time. Several local bar owners, concerned about how all the attention might affect their businesses, and some prominent gay men, who had grown comfortable with their place in the order of things, responded by calling Perry and the other activists “carpetbaggers” and “outside agitators.”
Despite these objections, the fire motivated a handful of activists to form the Gay People’s Coalition (GPC). The GPC launched another publication, Causeway, and established a Gay Crisis phone line. Causeway was edited by Rushton, then still a student at Tulane University.
An editorial from the January 1974 edition of Causeway declared, “There are enough gay men and women in N.O. who are able to do anything they wish – be it swinging an election or electing a gay city councilman.” Rushton’s clarion call, while certainly true, fell on deaf ears.
As the embers of the fire cooled, so did the ire of the gay community. In what was to become the dominant pattern of gay activism in New Orleans, the GPC and Causeway, eventually faded away. Later in 1974, former Baptist minister Mike Stark formed the Gay Services Center, located on Burgundy in the Marigny. Initially, the group enjoyed a flurry of activity, including the publication of a newsletter, The Closet Door. But the group’s promise was never fulfilled; in a familiar pattern, the newsletter and the group were soon moribund. While volunteering at the Gay Services Center, Rushton met fellow activist, Alan Robinson, whom he later briefly dated.
Gay Conversion and Deep Brain Stimulation
A year after the Up Stairs Lounge fire, Rushton published a blockbuster expose of a faculty member and his strange experiments at Tulane University.
Imagine having a doctor drill a hole into your skull in order to implant electrodes in your brain. Nine of them. And then telling you to masturbate. Why? To cure you of your homosexuality, of course.
Stay tuned for Part Two: Bill Rushton on gay conversion and Anita Bryant
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