‘LET ME tell you ’bout my hometown in the middle of the Lone Star State. I might brag just a little but I really won’t exaggerate.” Thus begins the jingle created and recorded by a radio station in the 1960’s about my hometown.
Although I have left the town and even my native state, Waco, Texas, is still where I tell people I’m from. During the last ten years, when I mention where I’m from, I’m always ready for a discussion of David Koresh and the Branch Davidians. While that episode is what most non-Wacoans associate with the city, it’s not the only event that has brought public attention to the city.
Before David Koresh became a person of notoriety, Waco was associated with the tornado that cut a path of destruction across East, Central, and South Waco on May 11, 1953. In addition to the devastation of property that the city experienced on that date, Waco also lost 114 of its citizens to that phenomenon of nature. For nearly forty years, Wacoans who mentioned their hometown were asked where they were during the tornado, because it was the only thing most people had ever heard about Waco.
Indeed Waco has always been associated with, even defined by, a single event. It probably all started in 1849 when Captain Shapley Ross established his ferry across the Brazos River, making Waco the logical place to cross. Later, in 1870, the ferry was replaced with a suspension bridge, which is a landmark and tourist site to this day. For fifteen years, Waco was best known as the location of the only bridge across the Brazos River. Cattle drovers and wagon trains were routed through Waco so that people could cross the river without fording or swimming the stream.
Perhaps the best story that Waco could use to promote a favorable image was the invention of Dr. Pepper in 1885 and the romantic story of the young man who sold the formula in order to win the confidence of his would-be father-in-law and gain the hand of his beloved.
In 1911, construction was completed on the 22-story Amicable Life Building (now known as the ALICO Building), and Waco became the home of Texas’s tallest skyscraper, which then became the defining characteristic of the city. While 22 stories is hardly remarkable by contemporary standards, the building still towers above every other structure in town. From 1911 until 1929, Waco was best known as the home of the tallest building west of the Mississippi and south of the Mason-Dixon Line.
This distinction faded as taller buildings went up elsewhere, but on April 11, 1953, Waco achieved another milestone, which then became its next qualification for renown, if only for a brief time. On that Saturday evening, cars were parked two blocks from David Owen’s two-room house in South Waco. The house was so small and so many people were present that they couldn’t all fit in the house. The gathering was variously described in Waco’s weekly, The Waco Citizen, as a homosexual interstate affair, as a convention, and as a wedding. In retrospect, it seems in fact to have been a gay wedding. A prominent Waco photographer was there to take pictures, and a duly licensed minister was on hand to perform the ceremony. When someone in the yard said “Here come the police,” everyone ran toward their cars. Sixty-seven were arrested and held overnight for “vagrancy.” One was transferred to the county jail for possession of marijuana. All the others were released the following day on 25 dollars bail, which they forfeited in city court. While the Waco daily paper didn’t cover the story, The Waco Citizen listed the names and addresses of those arrested.
Among those who were charged, comments were made that it was a private party and that they were completely surrounded by police. Apparently some of those charged attempted to get legal representation but couldn’t find a sympathetic attorney. No ACLU lawyer was available to step in and defend the men. Meanwhile, the weekly newspaper congratulated the police for breaking up this gathering: “It is to be regretted that Waco should have been chosen as the meeting place and thus gain another black eye as being a habitat for criminals of various types.”
Most of the men picked up at the gathering lost their jobs and became estranged from their families as soon as the Citizen report became public. Requests for the paper came from across the country and the world. To this day, this is the most frequently requested back issue of The Waco Citizen. (Since no back issues are available, the paper can only provide photocopies of the article.)
Since the event involved mostly younger men, many of those who were arrested that day are still alive, and an effort was made to contact some of them for their input into this story. None was willing to be quoted. However, Edgar W. Seay, who died two years ago at age 81 in Austin, left behind his partner of 33 years. While the partner did not want his name to be used, and while he was not present at the wedding, he freely repeated stories that he had heard from his partner. On the evening of the incident, Seay and his companion had parked two blocks from the house because of the number of cars already there when they arrived. They were unable to get into the house and were in the front yard when they heard the warning that police were coming. They ran for their car and were arrested, not on the property but two blocks away. Seay, who had been working in a furniture store, was fired when the article was published in the Citizen. Seay’s companion at the wedding was a teacher, and he lost his teaching certification when the article appeared. That man now lives in Dallas, but was not available for comment.
Now, at the fiftieth anniversary of this incident, such gatherings are not uncommon. Waco is the home of at least one gay bar, having had two for a time. A Metropolitan Community Church (MCC) serves gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgendered and supportive non-gay Christians. Even Baylor University, the conservative Southern Baptist Waco institution, now has a gay student organization. While it is not recognized by the University, Baylor Freedom has a website (www.baylorfreedom.com) and is functioning, albeit unofficially. The pastor of the MCC is available and willing to perform ceremonies like the one that was to have been held in 1953, and there’s no concern that the police will interfere. If they carried out an operation like the one at David Owen’s house, everyone charged would fight the allegations and attorneys would quickly jump in to defend the accused. Neither Waco’s daily newspaper nor the still-published Waco Citizen would carry the story unless it was to embarrass the city and the police for harassing the decent citizens who peacefully assembled in a private residence. In fact, The Waco Citizen cooperated fully and gladly provided the material on which this article is based.
Just one month after the notorious wedding in Waco, the 1953 Waco Tornado became a bigger and more important story and supplanted the April 11 event as the historic event that would identify Waco for the next forty years. Thus did an event of fifty years ago become a forgotten footnote in Texas history
Buff Carmichael is the founder and publisher of Prairie Flame, a GLBT newspaper for downstate Illinois.
