Well, it’s the 38th anniversary of the Georgia Bureau of Investigation finding the corpse of a bear full of cocaine in Chattahoochee National Forest. The movie — with the bear going on a murderous rampage — is… not strictly accurate…
…but the truth is pretty special, too — not least the fact that country singer Waylon Jennings (who significantly shortened his own life with cocaine) once owned the stolen, taxidermied beast.
It now lives in a mall in Kentucky.
But far more importantly today…
Well, it’s 20 December, so… it’s the 91st anniversary of a police raid on “Lady Austin’s camp boys” at 27 Holland Park Avenue, in which 60 men were arrested — including Austin Salmon, for conspiracy to corrupt morals, and keeping a disorderly house.
Two undercover police officers, PC Labbatt and PC Chopping, had been in a week before, having been asked, in the Mitre pub over the road — by a man “with rouged lips, pencilled eyebrows and scented clothes” — “Are you going to the ‘Drag’ tonight?”
When it was clear they were, he said “Don’t wait my dears… go over and tell them Betty sent you”. In fact, Betty took them over and introduced them as “two camp boys, friends of mine”. Lady Austin kissed their hands, and ushered them in, saying “Don’t go and get too fruity yet”.
In the words of Labbatt’s later statement:
“For obvious reasons” there is because, according to the case records, Labbatt “made himself up to look like one of the defendants and adopted their jargon” — i.e. he was in drag .
According to historian Matt Houlbrook’s Queer London
They danced together and with other men and participated in several sexual encounters. Chopping danced with ‘The Bitch’, who “placed his hands inside my trousers”.
Entrapment, in other words.
‘Clary’ told them “there were only five real women present and they were all Lesbians”, and when asked if the place was safe, said:
Safe dear, of course they can’t touch us. If the ‘Bogies’ or ‘Dicks’ come, give a wrong name and address, I always do.
The image you can see in that preview (or should be able to, anyway) is this, with its intriguing Live, Love and Laugh slogan. (Whether it bears any relation to the similarly worded ‘amusing’ ‘vintage’ signs which hang in modern kitchens, I haven’t discovered.)
Having gathered their evidence, the stage was sadly set for a raid on the 20th. At 11.25, Chief Inspector Smith entered the ballroom with about 30 other men.
I announced we were police officers. I had the band stopped. I then shouted out, “I want Lady Austin and Betty”.
Austin was not a shrinking violet, and responded, “I am her ladyship. Betty is not here.” When the charge was read out, he said,
Surely only members of our cult are here. What harm are we doing?
When asked what the cult was, he said,
Why, Lady Austin’s camp boys of course.
Austin Salmon was a 24-year-old barman, and surprised all concerned by being entirely unapologetic. The events were run, he said, for love rather than profit
During the raid, an Inspector Francis confirmed that one man Austin asked about was an undercover officer, getting the response:
Fancy that. He is too nice. I could love him and rub his Jimmy for him for hours.
When cautioned, Austin went on:
Lady Austin sounds rather magnificent, so it’s a pity I couldn’t find any photos of him. The only images there seem to be in the archives are of that flier, and a red lounge suit worn by John, Austin’s partner (and business partner), which was produced as evidence at the trial.
Houlbrook adds that Austin wasn’t the only defiant one. Several of those arrested “produced a powerful critique of the laws of which they had fallen foul”, with one called David M. saying to a policeman:
These views were, of course… not universal at the time. They were put on trial the following February, prompting such headlines as Lipsticks and powder puffs, Men dressed as women, and West End nest of vice. And…
In March, at the end of the trial, Ernest Wild, the recorder of London, registered his vehement disapproval of the whole business in what Matt Houlbrook describes as “a characteristically intemperate diatribe”:
Remarkably, though, even at this time, it was possible to swan about in drag with impunity. The Chelsea Arts Ball was held once a year at the Royal Albert Hall, which was “outside the Met’s operational sphere”, and
Twenty-seven men were convicted at the 1933 trial, and sentenced to between three and 20 months in prison. Austin’s assertion that “before long our cult will be allowed in this country” was finally proved (partially) right by the Sexual Offences Act of 1967.
