Let’s get the villain out of the way first, because she deserves to be immediately consigned to the dustbin of history. Bye, bye, bye Anita Bryant—pop singer, 1958 Miss Oklahoma beauty pageant winner, and brand ambassador for Florida orange juice—whose infamously coruscating turn to “Christian” anti-gay crusading in the 1970s ignited a nationwide movement of homophobic hatred, yet permanently damaged her brand and led her into bankruptcy. She died at 84 a month ago, but nobody really noticed. That’s too bad.
In 1977, Miami Dade County passed an ordinance that prohibited discrimination on the basis of sexual orientation. This ruffled Miss Anita’s feathers so much that she righteously rose up against such foul equanimity, calling homosexuality an “abomination” and crusading against the burgeoning gay rights movement. She railed against gay adoption and supported the failed Briggs Initiative here in California, which would have banned gay teachers in schools.
She did manage to get the Miami ordinance overwhelmingly repealed while spreading toxic misinformation about gay people, teachers, and children. But the whole thing backfired when the gay community and allies, galvanized by her hateful rhetoric, banded together to fight against the nationwide bigotry she had unleashed.
This gave rise to two of the greatest, certainly among the funniest, acts of queer resistance in history. As part of a huge boycott of Florida orange juice, bartenders at gay bars and nightclubs ceased serving screwdrivers (vodka and orange juice) and instead pushed the “Anita Bryant special”—vodka and apple juice. Sounds disgusting but I would’ve ordered a hundred of ’em.
The second, of course, was the “pie in the face” seen ’round the world, courtesy of banana créme-wielding gay activist Thomas Higgins. Anita got some just desserts right after a 1977 press conference in which she announced plans to open a network of Anita Bryant Centers where “homosexuals could go for rehabilitation.” Higgins’ action gave rise to one of the most iconic images in US protest history.
In any case, how very dare she. The gays won (again), her orange juice contract was cancelled, and she was pilloried—even by Carol Burnett on national television—and driven from polite society. The lives she tarnished and damage she caused are all still untold. She never apologized, because she thought she was doing the right thing. And look, I realize she was herself a victim of sexism, in the way her male-dominated religion and abusive husband used her and then threw her away. (Her 1980 divorce is probably what ultimately led to her Florida orange juice contract cancellation.) The whole thing was an unholy mess. So let’s all enjoy a screwdriver in her honor.
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Very much on the positive side of LGBTQ rights: The great labor leader Allen Baird passed away this week at 92. A fantastic ally and hero to the community, he united the labor movement and the gay rights movement in 1973, with the seminal Coors beer boycott and strike—helping to cement a bond that advanced both movements and proved that all struggles are united.
A boycott against Coors had actually started in Colorado in 1966 due to discriminatory hiring practices against people of color, and the company’s support of right-wing policies. By the ’70s, the boycott had grown nationwide and included many groups, with LGBTQ employees specifically protesting against discrimination and the company’s homophobic policies. (Potential employees had to take polygraph tests during the application process, WTAF, during which they were asked about their sexual orientation.) Meanwhile, workers began striking over the reasons outlined above, and over an unfair dismissal policy.
Baird was a Teamsters leader in SF, and his crew—which delivered the beer to local bars and stores—faced issues like low wages, union-busting, and employment discrimination. They were also mad that Coors had started hiring scabs to replace striking workers. In a stroke of genius, Baird worked with local gay activists including openly gay Teamster trucker Howard Wallace, Scott Smith, Cleve Jones, and SF newcomer and budding gay rights leader Harvey Milk to keep Coors out of then-thriving gay bars and nightclubs, while the SF Teamsters stopped delivery altogether and even personally removed it from store shelves.
Over the course of the boycott, Coors’ market share in California dropped from a high of over 40 percent to just 14 percent. Openly gay truckers became more accepted, and the company dropped its lie detector policy. While workers eventually signed a new contract with Coors (which didn’t guarantee them a union, alas), the boycott lasted well into the 1980s—I even heard about it as a wee gay in the Midwest—and became a powerful symbol of how labor and LGBTQ activists could work together. Baird went on to fight against the Briggs Initiative with Milk, and work for more equality in the Teamsters organization.
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“Talk about polar opposites,” legendary queer activist Tom Ammiano, who was instrumental in defeating the Briggs Initiative, said over the phone when I reached out about both deaths. “I can’t even imagine a broader spectrum between them! One of them was so hateful and spiteful, and Allan of such high moral character.
“I miss that in today’s elected officials, any kind of moral compass and integrity. Allan was the keeper of the flame, the best ally we could wish for in a time of of great threat and violence against the community. He gave Harvey so much encouragement and succor in his early days of finding his footing as a leader. He was a lovely, lovely man and wonderful person.
“I hope they don’t to his story what they are doing to Harvey’s, moving him toward the center for political points. Harvey was incredibly progressive for the time, and Allan was right there with him. With the attacks on queer people and labor right now, we can only hope for allyship like his. I don’t have any faith in the Democrats right now on any of this. We are going to have to make our own community again, and lean on our true allies.
“As for Anita, her legacy is living on through Trump. We are back in this awful cesspool of hatred. And we need to really stop and think about how that came about. We dropped the ball, we got too comfortable. We trusted in the wrong people. We need to look back and see what worked before.
“I remember [pioneering SF gay rights activist] Hank Wilson and three other friends driving out to Florida during Anita’s campaign to knock on doors and talk to people. They drove cross-country squeezed into this old car because they had no money. I say it’s a miracle those four queens didn’t kill each other before they arrived! But they put themselves out there. They did something.”
