Jeff Meek LGBT culture in Scotland

Exploring queer histories and the diverse experiences of Scotland’s LGBTQ+ community

Gray’s School of Art alumnus, Bart Grabski, hasbeen selected as one of only ten artists to feature in the Queer & Now exhibition, a landmark project organised by Dundee’s Shaper/Caper dance company funded by The National Lottery Heritage Fund.

The exhibition, which runs alongside the acclaimed Small Town Boys choreographed by Shaper/Caper’s Artistic Director Thomas Small, explores the rich and diverse experiences of the LGBTQ+ community, with a particular focus on themes from the 1980s and 1990s, including Section 28 and queer nightlife.

Queer & Now showcases new work created by artists who delved into the LGBTQ+ culture of the past, working closely with OurStory Scotland to collect and curate oral histories that have deeply informed their practice.

Bart’s piece, ‘Oral Portraits’, is a poignant exploration of Aberdeen’s queer club scene during the AIDS crisis, documenting a time when underground spaces offered solidarity, resilience, and joy to the community despite oppressive laws.

Reflecting on his artistic journey, Bart said: “For many, the dance floor wasn’t just a place to escape—it was a place to become. In a world that tried to erase our community, those nights were the loudest forms of existence. This project isn’t just about remembering; it’s about honouring the resilience, the joy, and the unapologetic celebration of life that thrived in those spaces.” 

Bart’s work weaves together evocative photographic portraits with a soundscape of audio recordings, featuring intimate interviews that echo the spirit of those times. He further explained, “The oral history recordings have been the soul of this project. Each story is a thread in the tapestry of our collective history, revealing not only the struggles but also the triumphs and moments of joy.”

Jill and Colin, who feature prominently in Bart’s work, offer deeply personal insights into the significance of Aberdeen’s queer nightlife. Jill reflects on her self-discovery and the sanctuary provided by Club 2000, where “music and companionship offered an escape from societal repression.” Colin shares his experience with the Gay Switchboard and health promotion during the AIDS crisis, highlighting the importance of safe spaces like Daisy’s Disco and Castros in fostering a sense of belonging and self-acceptance. Colin noted, “Those spaces were not just clubs; they were our lifelines, places where we could be who we really were without fear.”

In addition to his own personal contribution, Bart also conducted interviews with two LGBTQIA+ alumni of Gray’s School of Art, Mark and Cliff, who reflect on their creative practices during those pivotal decades. Both discuss how queer spaces, art, and creativity within Aberdeen provided an outlet for expression and community in the face of social and political challenges.

Mark shared his experience at Gray’s School of Art saying, “Art School enabled me to facilitate my creativity as an honest reflection of my true queer identity. This creative exploration would not have been possible outwith such a liberating environment.”

Cliff, meanwhile, recalls the vibrant creative community of Gray’s School of Art and how the club scene was a lifeline for many: ” Art school was a lifesaver for me, a place where I could be myself, but the queer club scene was where I found my tribe—people who embraced and celebrated their identities.”

Yolanda Aguilar, Executive Director, Shaper/Caper said: “Sharing the history of the LGBT+ community in Aberdeen is a vital thread in the fabric of the city’s past. Sharing these stories allow us to honour the resilience, struggles, and triumphs of individuals who have often been marginalised.

“Gray’s alumnus, Bart Grabski’s contribution to the Queer & Now project has been most relevant in terms of showcasing his unique artistic and interdisciplinary practice, complementing an impressive team of selected artists, whilst spotlighting the North East of Scotland as the fourth city with the highest LGBT+ population, as revealed by this summer’s census.

“Gray School of Art plays an important role by shedding light on the contribution of the LGBT+ community, promoting inclusivity, and ensuring that future generations see the rich diversity that has always been part of Aberdeen’s identity”

The exhibition has travelled across Scotland, opening in July 2024 at Perth Theatre and moving to Inverness, Stirling, and Glasgow, before arriving in Aberdeen at the Anatomy Rooms Arkade Studios from October. The highly anticipated Artist Talk will take place in Aberdeen at the Anatomy Rooms on Friday, 18th October at 4 pm, offering visitors a chance to hear firsthand from artists about the creative process and the stories that shaped their work.

The ‘Queer & Now’ exhibition runs parallel to the ‘Small Town Boys’ show, which delves into queer nightlife in the 1980s through dance and spoken word, offering a complementary exploration of LGBTQ+ experiences during a turbulent time in history. As part of the tour in Aberdeen, ‘Small Town Boys’ will be showcased at Cheers Bar, ensuring that the city has the opportunity to fully engage with both events.

Gray’s School of Art and the wider RGU community are immensely proud of Bart’s accomplishments. His work continues to elevate underrepresented voices, reinforcing the institution’s role as a vital catalyst for social change and cultural discourse. We invite everyone to attend the exhibition and the artist talk, not only to celebrate the legacy of LGBTQ+ histories but also to witness the profound impact of Gray’s School of Art on its alumni and the community at large.

For more details on the Shaper Caper Queer & Now exhibition and project overview visit:  https://www.shapercaper.com/queerandnow.

Buy your ticket to the Small Towns Show:  https://www.aberdeenperformingarts.com/whats-on/dancelive-2024-small-town-boys/#book

Learn more about Our Story Scotland – https://www.ourstoryscotland.org.uk

Bart Grabski, is a Gray’s School of Art alumnus with a MA in Curatorial Practice and a Digital Media Engagement officer at Look Again at Gray’s.

If you would like to write content for Queer Scotland, please get in touch.

Jeff Meek Scottish Queer History

Homosexuality and the Scottish Press 1880-1930

A guest post by Dr Michael Shaw, Senior Lecturer in English Studies at the University of Stirling.

In his History of Sexuality, Michel Foucault famously critiqued the ‘repressive hypothesis’. Far from simply being repressed or restricted over the nineteenth to twentieth centuries, Foucault argued that there was a proliferation of discussion on sexuality at this time, an ‘incitement to speak about it’. I’ve often wondered about how this idea might apply to Scotland, which is sometimes portrayed as a nation that was either silent or quiet on homosexuality before the 1960s. How extensively would homosexuality have been discussed in Scotland between the end of the nineteenth century and the beginning of the twentieth, and in what contexts? How would it have been alluded to? Was the treatment always hostile? And what materials might still exist to help us understand these discourses today?

Over the past year I’ve been working on a Royal Society of Edinburgh-funded project, titled ‘Homosexuality and the Scottish Periodical Press 1885-1928’, to address the above and related questions. Having done some initial research on the representation of the Oscar Wilde trials in the Scottish press, and knowing how extensively his trials were covered in some Scottish newspapers, I wanted to think more broadly about the ways in which Scottish print culture engaged with homosexuality, beyond criminal trials and police reports. How might queer novels, or sexological writings, have been received in Scotland, for instance? Were poems or stories alluding to same-sex love published in the Scottish press?

I knew I would likely have to confront a range of ‘negative results’ during this project: there would undoubtedly be newspapers and magazines that enforced a studied silence on homosexuality. Those silences themselves are of interest, but I suspected that there would also be more coverage of homosexuality, beyond criminal cases, than tends to be acknowledged.

The project took me to various locations, ranging from Dumfries to Dingwall. Rather than rely on electronic databases, I wanted to work with physical collections as much as possible – making sure that lesser-known titles were consulted as much as the more obvious newspapers and magazines. Given the vibrancy of Scottish periodical culture c.1880-1930, I knew there was no way I could be exhaustive with this study. But I wanted to build a thorough sample, by exploring how periodicals from different locations, with differing political persuasions and religious associations, speaking to different professions or groups, discussed (or didn’t discuss) homosexuality.

What became clear was that there were a number of discussions of, and allusions to, homosexuality in Scotland over this period in the press, although there were differences in the way the topic was handled across different years and locations. It also became clear that discussion of homosexuality and homosexuals was not always hostile (future publications will discuss these findings in more detail).

Sometimes, it was in seemingly unlikely places that expressions of sympathy were found. The Scots Observer (1926-34), for instance, was a weekly newspaper devoted to representing the presbyterian churches of Scotland, hoping to express ‘the collective aims and ideas of the Scottish Presbyterian Churches’. The Scots Observer was also concerned with the Scottish literary renaissance and intellectual developments of the day, and it did not always manage to reconcile its differing concerns. The editor, William Power – who was not only a supporter of the Renaissance, but would go on to become the leader of the Scottish National Party during the Second World War – later noted that the political and intellectual sympathies of the paper drew critique from some of the church leaders.

The Scots Observer’s more provocative dimensions are evident in an anonymous 1927 review of a book titled The Invert and his Social Adjustment by ‘Anomaly’ (who describes himself in the book as a Roman Catholic, aged 40). The review not only discusses homosexuality but calls for greater tolerance of homosexuals:

Of recent years it has been found that a certain proportion of people […] are as instinctively homosexual as the normal individual is heterosexual. […] Such people have special and very difficult problems in life to face, and an idea of what these are and how they may be faced is given in a recently published book “The Invert and His Social Adjustment’. […] The writer, who is himself an invert, and also a devout Roman Catholic, makes it clear that the incidence of immorality among inverts is precisely the same as among normal people, and he also shows how, in the necessary process of “sublimation,” socially valuable qualities may be developed.

Much like the book, homosexuality is represented as ‘abnormal’ here but it is simultaneously characterised as being as ‘instinctive’ as heterosexuality, and the review highlights the difficulties homosexuals in the early twentieth century had to face. The reviewer also appears to be convinced by the author’s dissociation of homosexuality from immorality. Following these comments, a quote is included from the ‘wisely written’ introduction to the book by Dr Robert H Thouless, a Lecturer in Psychology at the University of Glasgow at that time. Thouless stated that the book helps to ‘approach the problems of inversion with knowledge and charity’, which is the note the review ends on. In his introduction, Thouless also noted that ‘the virtuous love of a homosexual is as clean, as decent, and as beautiful a thing as the virtuous love of one normally sexed’.

Dr Robert H Thouless

The Scots Observer’s review does stress the ‘necessary’ process of sublimation (deflecting sexual thoughts towards non-sexual activities), which appears to depart from the book’s ambivalence around physical intimacy: ‘Anomaly’ focuses on challenging ‘excessive indulgence’, while noting that homosexual love is ‘no more susceptible to sublimation into an absolutely non-physical emotion than the love of man for a woman’. While there is no negative commentary on the ideas voiced in The Invert and his Social Adjustment, The Scots Observer does appear to take a more conservative stance on physical intimacy in its review.

Nevertheless, in choosing to give notice to this book, and in sympathising with its calls for greater toleration of homosexuals, we witness an example of the ways in which Scottish newspapers and magazines, including religious titles, could contribute to expanding awareness of homosexuality in the 1920s, even if – going back to Power – this may have been one of the contributions that certain church leaders disapproved of. It is clear that Scottish periodicals were not always concerned with repressing discourse around homosexuality; not uncommonly, they were sites to discuss, analyse, condemn and sympathise with homosexuals across the 1885-1928 period.

If you would like to provide a guest article for QueerScotland, please do get in touch.

Jeff Meek Scottish Queer History

The Trial of William Merrilees, 4 April 2024

This April, the James Arnott Theatre at the University of Glasgow will present The Trial of William Merrilees, a free Judicial Theatre performance by doctoral researcher Kfir Lapid-Mashall, based on a collaboration with Dr. Jeff Meek and his book Queer Trades, Sex and Society: Male Prostitution and the War on Homosexuality in Interwar Scotland.

Join this one-night-only, unscripted performance, where you get to decide the verdict.  

William Merrilees

About the show

When law and desire clash, which side do you choose?

Edinburgh, 1934. In a city plagued by illicit acts, detective inspector William Merrilees wages war against ‘deviants’ committing sexual offences in urinals, bathhouses and parks. Breaking the law, queer men use these clandestine spaces to express their desires. They are persecuted by the authorities, face criminal charges, and imprisoned.

Glasgow, 2024. Charged with Misconduct in Public Office, detective inspector William Merrilees will stand trial for the alleged abuse of power in his campaign against homosexuality.

Be the jury in an unscripted performance of Judicial Theatre, hear both sides, ask questions of the witnesses, and decide the fate of controversial figures from Scotland’s queer history.

The Trial of William Merrilees will take place on Thursday, 4 April 2024, at 7:00 pm at the James Arnott Theatre (Gilmorehill Centre, 9 University Avenue G12 8QQ).

Tickets are available for free here. For more information about the show, please visit the show’s website.

This event is presented by Thinking Culture, a cultural programme supported by the School of Culture & Creative Arts, University of Glasgow.

Content advisory: The performance will include explicit references to sex and sexuality, and police abuse of power.

Jeff Meek Scottish Queer History

No Villains or Heroes?: The Whitehats and Rosebery Boys

My book Queer Trades, Sex & Society: Male Prostitution and the War on Homosexuality in Interwar Scotland is out now. This is a little taster.

I first encountered the Whitehats in Angus McLaren’s Sexual Blackmail, almost 20 years ago. He noted that the group had caused some anxiety in Glasgow and had exercised local MP George Buchanan. As I was, at the time, undertaking oral history interviews with gay and bisexual men for my PhD, I put the Whitehats to the side. That was until I met Andrew Davies at a conference in St Andrews. I had given a paper in which I had briefly mentioned the Whitehats and he pointed me in the direction of Glasgow police archives. I had already uncovered a trial record for the ‘leader’ of the Whitehats, William Patton or Paton, but at the Glasgow archives, I was able to put a face to the name. Also there, were police records for the other members of the gang, a group of stoney-faced men in their twenties, images that contrasted with their descriptions in the press and trial records. Perhaps ‘stylishly-dressed’ and ‘fashionably-dressed’ looked different then. That is, compared to William Paton (aka Liz Paton), with his wing collars, thin tie and baker’s boy flat cap. But I did not know quite how to categorise men such as Paton, John Townsley (aka Florence Ramsay), Thomas Robb (aka Maria Santoye), Patrick Neville (aka Ella Shields), Joseph McMahon (aka Happy Fanny Fields) ,and the others. While their working or camp names (and their use of ‘powder and paint’) expressed a level of femininity or queerness – and some of them had convictions for homosexual ‘offences’ – most had convictions for other crimes; theft, robbery, violence, and sexual assault. Buchanan had also suggested that the group engaged in (homo)sexual blackmail but had not been prosecuted due to the victim’s unwillingness to appear in court. But this was a group identified by the police and courts as a ‘gang composed of male prostitutes’.

The more I dug, the murkier it became. Paton’s ’empire’ had begun with organising illegal nightclubs and female prostitution in the West End of Glasgow (one being above The Arlington Pub ). Paton would rent premises by presenting himself under a pseudonym, with a ‘fake’ wife (generally one of the sex workers) to the letting agencies, sometimes calling himself William Dallas or Greig or Robertson. Once the premises were secured and furnished with a full bar, and some ladies, Paton and his associates would stake out the main railway stations seeking male visitors to the city, who they entice back to the premises with promises of cheap drink and sex. Once the operation was smashed by the police, Paton would be described in the press as the leader of the underworld of Glasgow (something of an exaggeration) and ‘the dynamic force among a number of notorious men and women of fashionable appearance’. Paton got 18 months. That 18 months added to his considerable criminal record. Paton was by then 31 years of age and he already held a number of convictions in Dundee, Edinburgh and Glasgow. As did his mother Agnes. Agnes ran the ‘legitimate’ side of their enterprise, first a cafe in Stobcross Street and then a fish restaurant on the Broomielaw. The rear living quarters of the restaurant would act as a brothel for male sex work.

Paton was released early from his sentence suffering from colo-rectal cancer. He survived. But his influence and desire had diminished. The restaurant on the Broomielaw was not proving to be a success, so Paton returned to queer male sex work (actually where his criminal career in Glasgow had begun). The restaurant acted as a form of hub for the Whitehats, as the cafe in Stobcross Street had previously. But by now, Paton was a marked man, followed by the police wherever he went. And on one evening in September 1928, it all came to an end. After escorting a soldier back to the Broomielaw ‘brothel’, Paton was caught in the act, thanks to an electric lightbulb, an uncurtained window and a nephew suffering from encephalitis lethargica – the uncurtained window and lightbulb presented the police with a perfect view, and the nephew asleep in the same room, made the act ‘public’. Paton got 3 years. Some of the Whitehats had died while Paton was in prison, others had returned to ‘normal’ trades (some were married with children), while others like John Townsley drifted into petty criminality and alcoholism (he was prosecuted at least once every year between 1926 and 1937 for either theft or assault). The Whitehats may have offered some of these men regular income but perhaps without Paton, the group disintegrated. Agnes held on for couple of years until the restaurant failed and became dependent on poor relief, as did WiIliam on his release from prison. In one application Agnes states that none of her other 5 children were willling or able to assist.

While it is possible to admire some of Paton’s brashness (such as ‘dragging up’ as a Spanish cabaret artiste to fraudulently collect donations for a charity – it was a fancy dress event), he and his confederates engaged in a range of criminal activities. They might well have been ‘queer’ but they posed a threat to to other queer men through blackmail and harrassment. Paton cared for his ageing mother until her death in 1943, aged 90. He then moved to Edinburgh where he worked in a number of hotels including the North British Hotel (now The Balmoral), flirted with marriage, before ending his days living in Stockbridge with his male ‘intimate partner’. He died from heart failure in 1968. The story of the Whitehats offers one interpretation or insight into queer male prostition/sex work. The story of the Rosebery Boys in Edinburgh in the 1930s offers another; a much more human and personal insight into queer male identity and sex work. And you can read more in Queer Trades, Sex & Society. But I will leave you with an extract from a letter from one Rosebery Boy to another.

Well Princes [sic] I met a swell sheik on Sat. and I am madly in love with him. Honest M. I love that chap the way I’ve loved no one else. Gee he is a swell guy. I have been crying all day when I think of the way he was smiling last night […] I told him on Sat. that I loved him and I told him last night […] I give up the game for good. I will camp to men but I won’t go with them. I am serious M., if I can’t get him I don’t want anyone else; he is everything to me.

Jeff Meek Glasgow History, Scottish Queer History

The Killing of a Worthless Man

I have previously written about William Merrilees, the Edinburgh detective, who undertook a ‘war on homosexuality’ in interwar Edinburgh. This triggered a fascination with the memoirs of retired Scottish police officers, particularly any reference to homosexuality and homosexual offences. I recently read works by ex-Detective Chief Superintendent Robert Colquhoun, and Douglas Grant, a former inspector in Glasgow. But it’s Colquhoun’s recollections that I wish to focus on, chiefly because he recounts the arrest of 21 year-old Robert Scott in 1958 for the murder of 51 year-old police informant and car sprayer William Vincent.

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William Vincent
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Robert Colquhoun

As a prelude to his account of the murder, Colquhoun states that ‘police powers are very limited when it comes to consenting homosexuals’, reflecting the difficulties faced by the police and the legal agencies in securing successful convictions in Scotland. It is difficult to determine whether this was a lament or a simple statement of fact. Vincent’s violent end would be mourned by few, even amongst the police force in Glasgow where Vincent had been in receipt of a commendation from Glasgow police for his ‘tip offs’. Yet, for Colquhoun these actions were undoubtedly an attempt by Vincent to protect him from police investigation. For Colquhoun, Vincent was a predator, often luring ‘a young man, friendless, or alone’ with promises of money, accommodation and a job (Colquhoun refers to this as a ‘baited trap’). This was viewed as risky behaviour and Vincent had himself contacted the police on occasion to report being attacked and robbed by men he had invited home. Indeed, in 1957 he had been assualted and restrained by a 19 year-old man, who then proceeded to rob Vincent of money and goods to the value of £260.

Robert Scott had met Vincent at a motor auction when he was 17, and the two had struck up a friendship sparked by a mutual love of cars. A year or so later, when Scott was called to do his national service, Vincent had unsuccessfully attempted to ‘buy him out of the army’, but after being demobbed Vincent was keen for their friendship to continue. Scott was less keen having become uncomfortable about the older man’s apparent obsession with him, which included pestering him with love letters. Five weeks later, a period during which the men had not met, Scott telelphoned Vincent and arranged a meeting at Vincent’s West End mews flat. According to Scott’s testimony, the older man was in an instant ‘a pleading, desperate figure who had abandoned all dignity’ and who had attempted kiss him. The two men struggled, before Scott strangled the slightly built Vincent, finishing him off with a sock tourniquet.

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Scott is brought back to Glasgow by Colquhoun

After stealing some valuables from Vincent’s flat, Scott bundled Vincent’s body into the boot of his Sunbeam Alpine and drove it to Longtown in Cumbria, where he abandoned it in a ditch. Phoning the local police, Scott stated “I murdered a man in Glasgow. The body’s in the boot of his car, and I’ll wait till you come.”

At Scott’s trial, the judge, Lord Russell, described the murder as, on one hand, the killing of a worthless man, but stated that the court should not deal in morals. Ultimately, Scott was found guilty and sentenced to life in prison. Eighteen months later Scott was found dead in Perth Prison, having committed suicide. He was described by prison authorities as having been ‘an ideal prisoner’. It is difficult to determine the exact nature of these men’s relationship; Colquhoun ascribed to the view that Vincent was a threat to young working-class men who would be tempted into forming illicit relationships with older men for economic benefit. Andrew Ralston, in his book The Real Taggarts characterises the murder as the result of ‘a deliberate and protracted attempt by an older man to dominate an impressionable youth’, but also highlights the part Vincent’s homosexuality played in proceedings. The former police officer demonstrates considerable empathy for Scott, but none for the victim: “William Vincent died by strangling because he was evil…[the case] show[s] the depravity to which, at times, humans can descend”.

Copyright © Jeff Meek 2013-2024 No part of this site, [QueerScotland.com], may be reproduced in whole or in part in any manner without the permission of the copyright owner.

Jeff Meek Glasgow History, LGBT culture in Scotland

‘All High Kicks and Low Morals’: My Introduction to Gay Life in 1960s Glasgow

A Guest Post by William Campbell

The myth once perpetrated that schooldays are ‘the happiest days of your life’ certainly did not apply to a shy, quiet, non-sporty, spotty youth like me, who wanted to be a fashion designer. I found myself amongst a bunch of growling wannabe engineers and factory workers. Attending a senior secondary in East Kilbride, I wished every schoolday would finish quickly, so I could get back to the safety of home. I only ever felt accepted, and comfortable, in the Art Department, amongst the most gentle, creative, fellow pupils and my very own ‘Jean Brodie’, Mrs Barclay. You could go to her classroom any lunchtime, and she would be playing classical records on her Dansette record player, while we ate peanut butter sandwiches and drank diluting orange juice. The only time I felt happiness and acceptance was in the 5th year, in that class.

Dansette Junior Deluxe Record Player

He wore a leatherette coat, green corduroy trilby with feather, and a pair of leather driving gloves

1966 saw me starting work, aged 17, as a junior sales assistant in the menswear department of an upmarket shop in Buchanan Street, Glasgow. For the princely wage of £5 10s 6d a week, I was to learn more about life working in that shop, from a man who would change my perception of myself and other people. He instilled within me the belief that no one was better than you. This was Mr Robertson, the senior salesman, who interviewed me initially for the position. Whilst I had no idea I was gay, he clearly did, possessing a ‘gaydar’ long, long before the birth of the internet dating site. He was 37, quite small, slim, bald, with slightly protruding front teeth, and wore thick horn-rimmed spectacles. He arrived for work drunk most mornings, having spent the evening before on a journey though the 1960s Glasgow gay scene. Starting at the cocktail bar in The Royal, he would then move onto Guys, or The Strand. He wore a leatherette coat, green corduroy trilby with feather, and a pair of leather driving gloves (he had neither a driving licence nor car and bussed it everywhere).

The Strand bar, Hope Street
Buchanan Street

Most mornings Mr R would head straight into the changing room, dim the lights and send me to Ferguson’s (a high-class grocers) in Union Street, for a tin of Epicure white peaches in brandy. It was a long narrow can containing 4 whole fruits in the alcohol liquor. I would hand him the opened can, and having scoffed the contents with a spoon, he would drink the brandy. Then, with an adjustment of his tie knot, and with alcohol level topped up – hey presto! – he was ready to face his public at 9-15am.

Every day in the shop was a performance. You simply did not know what he would say next to the customers (who adored him, I might add). I was both terrified and in awe of him, and could not wait to get in to work every day, just to see what would happen next. He just didn’t care!

He would tell customers he was ‘just back from Tangier’, and ask ‘don’t you love my tan?’, when in fact he had bought a tin of Max Factor Creme Puff, and slathered it on his face.

Mr R lived with his elderly mother in a rented tenement flat in Govan. Yet, when dealing with the mostly wealthy customers in the shop, he spun a web of fantasy about his life. It was so convincing that even I who worked with him, and knew a little about him and his circumstances, had to ask if his stories were true. He would give me a withering look and send me off to make him a coffee. He would tell customers he was ‘just back from Tangier’, and ask ‘don’t you love my tan?’, when in fact he had bought a tin of Max Factor Creme Puff, and slathered it on his face.

Govan

One morning he sent me to his mother’s flat for something he had forgotten, and over a cuppa, I said it sounded as if Mr R’s latest holiday in Greece had been fabulous. ‘You must be mistaken’, she said, ‘he spent that two weeks at home, and anyway, he has never owned a passport.’

Mr R would exclaim, ‘Here he comes, all high kicks and low morals’.

Mr R had a frequent visitor to the department, a man called Frank, who in hindsight must have been his boyfriend. Frank was pleasant enough, but a ‘hard ticket’, who was frequently drunk, and black-eyed. They seemed to have been friends for years. They knew a really fun guy, Derek, who was, as they say, ‘a chorus boy’ in variety theatre. He would high-kick his visits to the menswear department, which didn’t go down too well. Mr R would exclaim, ‘Here he comes, all high kicks and low morals’. But actually, he was the sweetest, kindest guy. He was always ‘just going off’ to do summer season in Bridlington or Skegness, and his stories were outrageous.

I worked with Mr R for three of the happiest, funniest years of my life, and before he died, I happened to visit a small menswear boutique on the southside of Glasgow. Thirty years had passed but he still looked pretty much the same. The shop ‘wasn’t quite his style’ and as we chatted, he started sipping on a whiskey he had poured from the side of the till. It was ‘for his nerves’ since he was ‘held up at gunpoint’ a few weeks previously. Held up for some coins and a few pairs of socks? Was that true, or was it right up there with his Moroccan or Greek travels? I have no idea. But I believed it. That’s how good he was.

I understand why the “Mr Robertsons” of those times invented “worlds” for themselves, to just lose themselves in a nicer place where they were safe from harm

Those far off days of the swinging ’60s: Free love, The Beatles, Liberalism. That’s what the media would have you believe anyway. Sure, it was the decade of ‘free love’ but lest we forget, gay men were still going to prison, having to hide their sexuality at work or lose their jobs, were being thrown out of the house for being gay, beaten up…the list is endless and shameful. And all while, Dusty was topping the charts, and having to pretend to be hetero to have a career. I understand why the “Mr Robertsons” of those times invented “worlds” for themselves, to just lose themselves in a nicer place where they were safe from harm.

So, that was my journey: from dreading school, to loving work. Amazing, and all down to him. He would be amazed to be remembered today, but whatever I am today, I owe to him. Here’s to you, Mr Robertson.

Here’s to you, Mr Robertson.

Copyright © Jeff Meek 2013-2024 No part of this site, [QueerScotland.com], may be reproduced in whole or in part in any manner without the permission of the copyright owner.hor.

Jeff Meek Uncategorized

An Extraordinary Career: Marie alias Johnnie Campbell, 1871

RENFREW, November 1871

A fog had descended over Renfrew, swept in by the brisk November winds. Dr Allison turned his collars up against the chill and peered through the gloom, spying the address on Pinkerton Lane where a desperately ill young man awaited his attention. Discarding his cheroot, the doctor knocked firmly on the front door. He heard steps approaching and the door opened to reveal a tidy, middle-aged woman.

‘Mrs Early?’, Allison enquired.

“Aye doctor. Come in, he’s no’ well at aw!”

The doctor was led through the house to a dimly lit back bedroom, where a figure lay still, illuminated by a single candle, the dancing flame reflecting off his sickly pallor.

Dr Allison approached the patient. “Mr Campbell?” The man nodded, weakly wiping sweat from his brow.

“My back aches”, moaned Campbell, “and my head is fit to burst!”

Dr Allison noted the young man’s light voice, a weakness perhaps? Yet, as the doctor’s hand brushed the man’s cheek, he could not help but notice the smoothness of the skin. The doctor lit another candle and his patient recoiled, pulling the bedclothes further towards his chin. His hands gripped the woollen blanket; they were small hands, chubby with short fingers. He examined the patient, taking his temperature and checking his glands. He tutted loudly.

“Mr Campbell, I am in no doubt that you will need to accompany me to the Infirmary,” said the doctor, placing a reassuring hand on Campbell’s shoulder. “This is a most grave fever.”

The young man closed his eyes and muttered, “That, I cannot.”

“Then I’m afraid,” began the doctor, “you may breathe your last in this room. Your salvation is the hospital. There we can administer treatment that may very well prolong your life.” Campbell was still resistant.

“No,” he responded weakly, his eyes barely opening, “hospital presents all manner of risks.”

The doctor brought his face to within inches of his patient’s.

“Is it because of your sex?”

A New Life in Renfrew

When John Campbell had fallen ill with smallpox, he was residing as a lodger with the Early family in Renfrew, while he laboured at the local shipbuilders, Henderson, Coulborn and Co. Thomas Early had known ‘Johnnie’ for some time, striking up a friendship while they had worked farms in West Lothian, before Early and his wife settled in Renfrew. John had returned to East Calder where he courted and then married Mary Ann McKenna and had begun married life in Kirknewton. Their marriage had raised some eyebrows locally as McKenna’s reputation had been sullied by the birth of two illegitmate children, Julia and Francis, before she was twenty years old. However, the marriage was seemingly illsuited to both parties, and John had left the marital home within 5 months.

When Johnnie had arrived in Renfrew in search of work, he had contacted his friend Thomas Early, who had been happy to offer room and board. Mrs Early later reflected on just how amiable, agreeable and helpful Johnnie had been since his arrival, often helping her in the kitchen, and fellow lodgers with darning and sewing. So attentive had Johnnie been when Mrs Early fell ill with influenza that her husband had become quite jealous of their intimacy. Yet, Johnnie was much more interested in local lass Kate Martin whom he treated to trips to Edinburgh and with whom he shared many of his evenings. Johnnie, throughout his time since leaving Kirknewton, ‘adhered to the old habit of loving and associating with the lassies’. But what Kate and the Earlys were unaware of was that Johnnie had deserted a wife and three children in Kirknewton to start his life afresh on the west coast – the marriage had seemingly produced a third, legitimate, child.

In Kirknewton, Johnnie’s deserted wife Mary Ann had been brought before parish authorities who demanded to know where her husband was, and why he was no longer financially supporting his family. Mary Ann, fearful that her relief would be stopped made a quite extraordinary claim.

“John Campbell is not my husband.”

That was impossible stated her interrogators, for they possessed a copy of the marriage lines.

“I’m am not denying that we stood before God and made our commitment. But it was a fraud! For John is not John, she is Marie.”

A Life Unravels

The parish board dismissed Mary Ann’s claim. Surely a minister with the experience of Henry Smith would not be fooled by such an alleged masquerade? It was simply outrageous. She had also admitted that her recently born child was not her husband’s. So, what was it to be? Was her husband a woman, or, had Mary Ann deceived him and bore another man’s child? Perhaps, filled with betrayal and torment he deserted her? The latter explanation was much more palatable to the authorities; Mary Ann had already bore two illegitimate children. Her habit of lying with men that were not her husband had blackened her reputation. The board were resolute. Mary Ann was a liar and a reputed harlot. They had already experienced Mary Ann’s mendaciousness when investigating the paternity of her two previous illegitimate children, two children whom John Campbell had happily agreed to bring up as his own.

One can only imagine the consternation when news reached Kirknewton of an extraordinary case of fraud from Renfrew involving a woman posing as a man named John or Johnnie Campbell. The parish board gathered together a delegation to travel to Paisley Infirmary to investigate this ‘fraud’.

Mary Ann accompanied the Kirknewton Inspector of the Poor, and Will Waddell who had been a witness at the wedding, to Paisley Infirmary. On seeing her husband in a hospital bed in a female ward, Mary Ann exclaimed, “There she is, my supposed husband!”. John, or Marie, who was now attired in a nightdress, exclaimed, “Is that you Will Waddell? How’s the wife an’ bairns?”

When questioned, Marie claimed that Mary Ann had known full well about her sex: “Mary Ann knew that I was a woman; it was to make us more comfortable that we lived together”. Mary Ann however, claimed that she had married John, then a shale pit labourer, in good faith, and that the revelation had only occurred after the wedding. It seems that unlikely that revelation took so long to occur, as the couple had cohabited for 5 months before John’s desertion. Whatever the truth, Marie Campbell, alias John or Johnnie Campbell, had embarked on an extraordinary career from an early age. Her older brother, on his deathbed, had advised his sister to make her way in life as a man, for a woman’s lot was not a happy one. An alternative reason was given by Marie that she had been subject to ‘bad usage’ at a young age and for her own state of mind and security attired and lived as a man. From the age of 15, John of Johnnie, had worked in various labouring roles, from road surfacing to mining. In the language of the day many people, like Johnnie, may have struggled to accurately and publicly describe their own feelings. They also had to consider the potential opprobrium directed their way by a society largely ignorant of diversity.

Despite the shock that the revelations brought to those who knew Johnnie Campbell, few had scornful words. Former colleagues in Renfrew started a subscription to support their former colleague, stating that “a more kindly and obliging worker never was engaged in the yard”. The Earlys, particularly Mrs Early, thought of Johnnie with such fondness that she could not condemn. Marie faced charges under the Registration Act for fraudulently contracting a marriage; Mary Ann returned to West Lothian; and life in Pinkerton Lane returned to normal. Yet, everyone who knew Marie, alias Johnnie Campbell continued to remember fondly, the young person who had touched their lives.

History does not offer us an opportunity to ask questions of the long deceased, to explore their motivations, and it is difficult to apply 21st century definitions or labels. But it does enable us to demonstrate that within Victorian Scotland, attitudes towards ‘non-conformity’ were not necessarily all negative. Johnnie/Marie was liked, loved even, by the individuals they met and worked with. Prosecution did follow, but for misusing the legal institution of marriage and for fraudulently registering a marriage, and not for any issues relating to sex, sexuality or gender.

Jeff Meek LGBT culture in Scotland, Scottish Queer History

“Desperately Seeking Someone (Non-camp, No-effems)”: The Gay Personal Ad in Mid-1980s Scotland

By the 1980s the personal ad was fast becoming a popular medium for Scots gay and bisexual men unsure, tired, or weary of the ‘gay scene’ to meet others. During the 1980s these short advertisements were relatively free of the acronyms that would come to dominate the medium and lead to much head-scratching and confusion. Knowing your GSOH[1], WLTM[2], NS[3], WE[4], NSc[5], and OHAC[6] would prove invaluable by the 1990s. But the 1980s were a simpler time when acronyms were largely absent and ads were often focused on presenting a clear descriptor of what advertisers sought.

Lonely-heart advertising was far from an exact science; there was simply no way of determining that your respondents would match your idea of the perfect partner, thus ads had to be explicit about preferences and expectations.  What is evident is the explicit articulation of potential friends’/lovers’ qualities, and the dismissal of those men who might not meet the performative expectations the advertiser had set. ‘Straight-acting’ does appear, but infrequently, in 1980s ads, becoming more frequent in ads during the 1990s, but ‘non-camp’ and ‘non-effem[inate]’ crop up in around one fifth of personal ads during the period 1984-86, in Scottish LGBT magazines. This might be simply about personal choice, but history demonstrates the emergence of countercultures of gay masculinities during the post-war period, which rejected the stigmatised ‘effeminate’ identity closely associated in popular discourse with male homosexuality.

I have already written about gay and bisexual men’s attitudes to masculinity and effeminacy, and this demonstrates how men perceived to be effeminate were stigmatised by both heterosexual and homosexual communities. What is notable is that the majority of personal ads did not contain obvious references to masculinity, but where preferences were indicated these tended to be well determined.  This advertisement from May 1985 clearly frames the advertiser as a ‘non-effeminate’ man seeking others of that type.

Shetland (31) non-effeminate seeks others, this area or visiting.

The terms non-effeminate (and variations) and non-camp appear to be interchangeable. This advert also from May 1985 uses ‘non-camp’ to indicate the preferred deportment:

Glasgow Anywhere Dave (26) 5’10” blond non-camp into most things seeks sincere mates. Photo if possible, returned.

The use of ‘non-scene’ appears regularly to denote both the advertiser’s ‘position’ and that of expected respondents. As Alan Davidson has noted, the appearance of terms such as ‘non-scene’ and ‘non-effeminate’ were coded expressions of the rejection of ‘“stereotypical” presentations of self’.[7] The following ad includes a double-barrelled rejection of ‘camp’ and ‘effeminate’, firmly positioning the advertiser’s rejection of stereotypes, real or imagined, and any individuals firmly associated with stigmatised identities.

Is there [sic] any gay folks in Dunfermline ? Sincere, honest guy seeks friendship of same (21-23), non-camp-effeminate.

Similarly, ‘Fife Guy’, sets his requirements clearly even although his appears to be seeking friends rather than a relationship or hook-up.

Fife Guy (33) Seeks friends, straight-looking, non-camp, non-scene, non-smoker. Photo appreciated. No effems.

Notably, the addition of ‘no effems’ at the end of the ad may represent ‘Fife Guy’s’ uncertainty that ‘non-camp’ would exclude all men he deemed to be non-straight looking.

The next personal ad, from May 1985, emphasises the advertiser’s own concept of masculinity, strongly indicating a preference for ‘straight-looking’ men, further underlined by the requirement that he should married.

Glasgow Slim 34 year-old, masculine looking, passive seeks well-hung marrieds, straight-looking types for uncomplicated fun.

‘Durham Area’ (January 1986) takes discomfort with effeminate men a step further, emphasising his hatred of effeminate men, and his enjoyment of masculine pursuits. He aims to meet a ‘sincere lad’ who might appreciate some ‘old-fashioned loving’. Being fair and genuine did not stretch to gay men who, the advertiser believed, were engaging in gender transgressions.

Durham Area I’m just a fair, genuine guy, 40s. Hate effems. Looking for sincere lad who likes the country, pubs, humour, and a bit of old-fashioned loving.

Ads which refrain from anti-camp or anti-effeminate language occasionally refer to presumed facets of masculinity. Terms such as ‘macho’, ‘manly’, ‘fit’, ‘sporty’ and ‘active’ set an agenda for intimate interaction that is rooted firmly in conventional understandings of gender and gender roles.

The issue of normalcy also emerges from some personal ads. ‘Edinburgh’ (November 1985) describes himself as ‘bearded’ and ‘hairy’, signifiers of masculinity, while detailing his requirements for a ‘non-camp guy’. He ends his ad with a plea for ‘a normal gay person’, further distancing the ‘camp’ man from such a concept.

Edinburgh, W. Lothian, Glasgow. 29 year old bearded hairy bisexual seeks non-camp guy for fun, good times, 25-35. All I want is a normal gay person!

Notably, when perusing Scottish personal ads during the 1990s, the ‘no camp’, ‘no effems’ content appears to have largely disappeared. Whether this is the result of editorial policy or the rise of the cover-all term ‘straight-acting’ is difficult to gauge. Yet, despite some obvious hostility to and discomfort with gay men who did not perform an ‘approved’ version of masculinity, there are ads that counter these negatives. ‘Glasgow Area Athletic’ describes himself as ‘lightweight’, and makes clear that he seeks someone similar, rejecting ‘macho’ men:

Glasgow Area Athletic lightweight guy seeks similar 21-32 years for fun, wrestling exchange. Photos. Any colour, non-macho.

 This type of advert is much rarer amongst the collection analysed. The limited space within personal ads led to a form of personal, sexual and social prioritising which meant that the advertiser attempted to fill ads with details and requirements most important in their search for love, sex and companionship. This inevitably led to exacting requirements which appear judgemental, exclusive and quite often prioritised codes of masculinity.

Copyright © Jeff Meek 2014

All Rights Reserved.

[1] Good sense of humour

[2] Would like to meet

[3] Non-smoker

[4] Well endowed

[5] Non-scene

[6] Own House and car

[7] Alan G. Davidson, ‘Looking for Love in the Age of Aids: The Language of Gay Personals’, Journal of Sex Research 28 (1991), p. 132

Jeff Meek LGBT culture in Scotland, Oral History, Scottish Queer History

Fear, Shame and Hope: AIDS in 80s and 90s Scotland

In a recent blogpost John D’Emilio argued that AIDS and its impact upon LGBT individuals and organisations, the militancy it provoked, and the heightened attention it drew to LGBT causes needs to be more fully documented and appreciated. This is certainly applicable to Scotland, and its responses, both social and medical, to the significant challenges that HIV/AIDS brought.

My research engaged with the impact that HIV/AIDS had upon gay and bisexual men in Scotland, many of whom were relatively young when their lives were touched or influenced by this new and sinister threat to life. Scotland had only decriminalised consensual gay sex between male adults in 1980, and the drive for equality was realistically still in its infancy. This blog post is not an attempt to document Scottish responses to HIV and AIDS but to reflect the experiences of gay and bisexual men during the 1980s and 1990s.

Chris was in his early 20s when the HIV/AIDS ‘dark cloud’ settled over Scotland:

It was horrendous, absolutely horrendous. Fear, fear of something you had taken for granted that was a big part of your identity and how you find joy and happiness and intimacy with other people that could suddenly wipe you out and do it horribly, you know, horribly…it was specifically, gay men who were isolated at that time, so there was another bit of ammunition for people who had a big grudge against gay men or didn’t like homosexuality for whatever reason, there was another huge big bit of ammunition.

Although the majority of early HIV/AIDS cases in Scotland affected another marginalised group – intravenous drug users, especially in Edinburgh – it was not long before the illnesses began to affect Chris much more directly. The impact was felt on a personal and emotional level, but also in the way that gay men saw themselves and were seen by wider society:

JM – Would you say that it impacted on people’s attitudes towards gay men?

Chris – [And] gay men’s attitudes towards themselves, yeah, definitely, and quite negatively, you know. [There was] the condom issue and the campaign with the tombstones and everything else and a leaflet going through every door in Britain, you couldn’t escape it, you really couldn’t escape it, and very quickly from ’80, ’81 people were actually being diagnosed and the first gay man who was diagnosed that I knew, was a friend, and of course then you think, ‘Oh my God!’. He was ill when he was diagnosed so he already had liver complications with diagnosis and deteriorated within a year and a half, two years, and died. His then long-term partner was positive and other really close friends that had been in that circle and had been intimate, one by one were being diagnosed positive.

Chris saw the impact that the disease was having on individuals he cared about but also the impact that it was having on attitudes to homosexuality. Yet, despite increased opprobrium directed at gay men, responses from LGBT organisations were not tempered by hostile attitudes:

JM – How did that impact on a political level in your life?

Chris – Yeah, I think that was just another injustice really. It all goes back to London, the sort of Stonewall era and Terrence Higgins Trust and a lot of the things that came up then I don’t think would have surfaced in such a strong, such a political way had it not been for HIV.   HIV and the reaction or the backlash against, particularly, gay men at the time meant [that in a way] those organisations gained incredibly in power and status. [That happened in] Scotland as well because Scottish Aids Monitor were seen as coming and doing something for a community and were put there and funded because they were there to prevent or limit this outbreak within a community but I don’t think even at that stage there was the acknowledgment that the gay scene is not the only the ‘scene’… there’s a far larger percentage of men who have sex with men who don’t and will not put that tag on themselves or be put in that box.

For Ed, who spent time in Australia as well as Scotland, the emergence of HIV/AIDS had a cataclysmic impact upon his life and the lives of his partner, friends and family. Ed was not out to his closest family members and an HIV+ diagnosis prompted him to attempt to tackle issues relating to his sexuality and his health:

Well, it was a double whammy actually: my partner had died of AIDS and I got tested and [the test result] came back positive and I thought, ‘Right! I’ve got to tell them all’, so with my mother it was a double whammy, with her letter I wrote, ‘Dear Mum blah, blah, blah, not only am I gay but I’m HIV positive’ and she wrote back saying that ‘the main thing is that you keep healthy but I think it’s against nature that you’re gay’, just a short reply…

Ed has now been living with HIV for over 20 years, something that was unthinkable at the time:

Well, I was thinking about that a few weeks ago and thinking that it now all seems like a dream…you were going to so many funerals from that period, the late 80s right through to 2000, 2001, so many friends that had died. Well, you knew it was there and you were going from week to week to see who the next one was going to be and so you just had to get on with your life and basically, em, accept and deal with what was happening….and I look at it this way: you either accept what is happening or you just turn your back on it and go off and end it all…

Duncan recalled how the appearance of HIV/AIDS in Scotland impacted upon the attitudes and behaviour of many gay men:

I went doon to see a pal in London recently who had moved down from Glasgow and….he says, “Duncan, do you remember the days in Glasgow when it was just like a chocolate box and you could pick and choose any flavour or any variety you wanted, hard, soft?” and it was true, it was a very carefree…no awareness of AIDS and HIV and anything like that, you know, in these days and everybody was…I cannae say promiscuous, because that isn’t the right word for it, but there was a lot of people who were very active…But then, quite quickly, all of my friends were talkin’ about they’ve maybe knew somebody who actually had contracted HIV an’ once ye knew maybe one person or maybe two it really shoots it home to you and you just started to change your behavior.

Other gay men were overwhelmed by the power of AIDS, not just relating to illness, but the way in which terms such as HIV and AIDS had the potential to obscure the individual, their personalities, who they were:

Greg – I had a friend, who was quite ill herself, who volunteered at a hospice, and one afternoon she brought two guys with AIDS to a café near where I worked. I had met them both before, and my friend invited me to join them for a coffee. I’m ashamed to admit that I didn’t really want to face them. I went and I felt so powerless, so impotent. One of the guys was really very poorly and had mild dementia, and being frank, I couldn’t handle it. I’m ashamed of that, as gay man, I am ashamed of that.

HIV and AIDS also had an impact upon the LGBT rights movement in Scotland during the 1980s and 1990s. As mentioned, decriminalization had only occurred in 1980 and just as LGBT organisations were beginning to find their feet, and their voices, the hysteria amongst sections of British society and the British press had implications for non-heterosexual Scots.

Ed – Oh the nonsense, the sensationalism, the terrible way they treated children who were positive and they weren’t allowed to go to schools, and people were terrified to touch, you know. How they treated [them] in hospital at the beginning was terrible, sliding paper trays through the door to the patients, that sort of stuff, thank God that’s all gone.

Ken too lamented the emergence of further stigmatising discourses concerning the ‘gay plague’ just as confidence amongst sexual minorities was growing.

I think that was a sad thing and a difficult thing…there was parity in 1980 but things don’t change overnight, Joe Public was [still largely homophobic]…so maybe by ’82 we were starting to get somewhere but then [there was] the ‘gay plague’ in America, by ’86 it was here, so there was only that little window [of hope].

These recollections of the 1980s and 1990s are not peculiar to Scotland, but it is notable that the threat of HIV and AIDS emerged in Scotland so soon over after decriminalisation. This had implications for the development of LGBT movements, but despite considerable hostility and homophobia the pressing need for directed health services, and advocacy groups meant that voices silent for so long still demanded to be heard.

 

Copyright © Jeff Meek 2014

All Rights Reserved.

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