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Secret codes and blackened windows: Remembering Raleigh's LGBTQIA+ history

In the 1960s and 70s, it was common for LGBTQIA+ spaces to be pushed to the edges of a city -- with blackened windows so nobody could see inside.

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By
Heather Leah
, WRAL multiplatform producer

Especially during Pride Month, Raleigh's Warehouse District and nearby businesses are decked out with rainbows. Rainbow flags wave outside Videri Chocolate Factory. A rainbow mural reading "All are welcome" invites visitors driving into downtown.

But some members of the LGBTQIA+ community can still recall a time when 'all were not welcome.'

In the 1960s and 70s, it was common for LGBTQIA+ spaces to be pushed to the edges of a city -- with blackened windows so nobody could see inside. This was done partially to protect the identities of those who literally risked being fired from their jobs – or worse – and partially because the general public didn't want to see.

In Raleigh, the 'edge of the city' translated to the Warehouse District – although there were some friendly spaces near Five Points as well.

Although most of those early safe spaces and hangouts from the 'underground' LGBTQIA+ community are gone, remnants from those gathering spaces can be seen around the city.

Churchill's is now where Glenwood's and The Mouse Trap once stood.

The Mouse Trap: Raleigh's oldest gay bar

Two doors down from the Rialto, where generations of Raleighites have found a safe space at Rocky Horror Picture Show, was once a bar called The Mouse Trap.

The Mouse Trap dates back to the mid-1970s, but the original opening date isn't clear. Often, LGBTQIA+ friendly spaces did not list their number, address or public information. They tried to remain private.

In fact, some recall a time when gay and lesbian bars were so deeply underground that, aside from blacked out windows, they would hang a single bare light bulb in their front door to indicate they were a safe space.

Jim Baxter, who ran The Front Page, a newspaper serving the LGBTQIA+ community, wrote, "Haven't we come a long way since the days when just being openly gay made you a dangerous radical?"

The Warehouse District has been a haven for the LGBTQIA+ community for decades.

Secret codes, special knocks and darkened windows kept people 'safe'

Decades before Raleigh had Pride proclamations and welcoming murals on its streets, safe spaces were much more nondescript: A bookstore that felt like home or a newsletter that let you know you weren't alone.

Melissa Dickens, who was born in the 1960s and grew up in the LGBTQIA+ community in the 1980s, recalls those times.

"Nobody talked about being gay," she says.

Much of the communication in those days was underground. With no internet and no safe way to openly discuss community issues, things like message boards, publications and even secret codes became vitally important.

Dickens recalls going to her first gay bar in the 1980s, saying, "There was a door with a little window. And there was actually a special knock you had to use in order for the person working to even let you in."

History of Raleigh's LGBTQIA+ community

She says going down that alleyway to that little club was like a secret kept by a specific tribe.

Even with precautions taken for safety, it was not a safe time for the LGBTQIA+ community.

"I remember once these guys in a pickup truck riding by us while we were walking down the alley. Several boys got out and beat the brakes off the two guys walking with us," she says. "One was swinging a board with a nail in it."

That night, she says, will never go away.

"You had to worry you would be assaulted or even murdered for just walking down the same street as the bar was on," she says. "Probably why the clubs were all in secret places."

Although most of those early safe spaces and hangouts from the 'underground' LGBTQIA+ community are gone, remnants from those gathering spaces can be seen around the city.

The Warehouse District has been a haven for the LGBTQIA+ community for decades.

Finding community at White Rabbit Books & Things

If you walk into High Tide Salon in the Warehouse District today, you might find hidden remnants from the building's former life as a haven for the LGBTQIA+ community. It once served as a beloved community bookstore and hub.

In the front, White Rabbit Books & Things was designed to appear as any other bookstore; however, owner Jim Baxter said he "originally designed the store so that it got gayer the farther back you went."

Dickens remembers finding a beacon of hope in the White Rabbit.

"After high school, the White Rabbit was one of the few places you could go to get any real lesbian-related reading or movie," Dickens said. "In fact going there was a really exciting time because if you ran into anyone else while you were in there, chances are they were just like you!"

"One of the things I bought there was a rainbow arch tea light candle holder," she says. "It became a beacon of hope for me that one day I would be able to light it and not have to worry about it having the [rainbow] association and someone outing me because of it."

She says she was extremely proud of her little candle arch. "It meant I had taken the step," she recalls. "Bought something that was queer, and that pleased me beyond measure."

For years and years, Dickens said she had to hide her sexuality.

"You had to call your lover your 'friend' when you went home for the holidays," she says. "You could be fired from your job or thrown out of the service."

History of Raleigh's LGBTQIA+ community

The Front Page newspaper provided resources

Like many LGBTQIA+ spaces from that era, White Rabbit Books & Things was designed to protect its community. In the back of the store, a newspaper for the LGBTQIA+ community called The Front Page was printed. In the front, message boards helped the community share advice and resources.

Baxter started The Front Page in 1979, and by the 1990s, he was running it in the back room of a store called White Rabbit Books & Things.

With The Front Page in the back room and the message boards in the front, White Rabbit was a central hub for members of the LGBTQIA+ community to congregate and communicate.

Message boards would have been especially important for finding out where to find the nearest AIDS testing center, or a way of quietly letting people know about an upcoming event.

The bookstore eventually closed and the building was taken over by VAE (Visual Art Exchange). Today, High Tide Salon is intentional about maintaining a safe space in honor of the building's historic significance to the LGBTQIA+ community.

History of Raleigh's LGBTQIA+ community

Marrying the woman of her dreams

For Dickens, the struggles led to a happily-ever-after. Same-sex marriage was not yet legal in North Carolina, so she traveled to Washington, D.C., in 2014 to wait outside a Justice of the Peace alongside a crowd of others waiting to be married.

"When they called our names to be next, some of those folks clapped and cheered," she says. "And when I came out of that room with that fake flower arch and the woman of my dreams holding my hand ... life changed forever!"

Dickens says she was so proud on the day she got to call her "wife." She says because of the struggles – some from decades past, and some more recent – it's important for people to preserve the history and to learn it.

"Learn the history," she says. "See the struggles, and look back and see just how far we have come."

After decades of growth and change, Raleigh's Warehouse District has held to its roots as a safe space for the LGBTQIA+ community. But even as the rainbow flags wave from the old brick buildings, it's equally important to remember a time when the windows were still blacked out.

Podcast: Listen to the hidden history of Raleigh's LGBTQIA+ community

If you are LGBTQIA+ and lived in the 1960s, 70s, 80s or 90s, WRAL's Hidden Historian would love to hear your experiences and memories from that time period as part of this month's series on LGBTQIA+ history in Raleigh. You can email them at hleah@wral.com.

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