About a third of the way through Robert Fieseler’s “Tinderbox: The Untold Story of the Upstairs Lounge Fire and the Rise of Gay Liberation,” I realized how, between the Stonewall Uprising and the era of AIDS, there has been somewhat of a reticence among LGBTQ writers and historians to cover the seventies, which is strange given how deeply, as visitors to any gay dance club can attest, the styles and ethos of the decade have been imprinted into the very DNA of what it means to be gay in America. Partly, this stems from it being politically a messy time for the movement, as groups on all sides of the political spectrum battled for dominance over the movement known as, quaint as it is to use now, Gay Liberation. Questions such as “Should a primary goal of the Gay Liberation movement be the fight for marriage equality?” were still being messily hammered out, making later Supreme Court decisions such as Lawrence v Texas(2003) and Obergefell v Hodges(2015) by no means inevitable.
With this as background, Fieseler’s account is best when it recounts the actual event itself. In his chapter, “United We Stand,” a mere seven minutes from the start of the fire until the death of MCC chaplain Bill Larsen is narrated with an immediacy and sensitivity rarely seen. However, it is after the fire, where we see both the deeply-set prejudices of a New Orleans society where the budding Gay Liberation Movement has almost zero footprint and where conservative religious and social bias exist unchallenged. Numerous witnesses, as Fieseler recounts, were interviewed with their backs to the camera, and when victims’ families were called, many hung up the phone in shame, wanting to remain in denial. When we wonder why this tragedy went forgotten for so long, it has to be remembered how homophobic the American public was in 1973, particularly in the South, with even survivors wanting the event to simply remain forgotten as they rebuilt their lives.
The last third of the book explains how, twenty years later, the New Orleans community began the process of deliberating and memorializing the tragedy. Here, the narrative begins to lose focus and drive, as we hear survivors and witnesses attempting to move on. As their lives move apart, so does much of Fieseler’s narrative, which is why various memorials take up such a disproportionate amount of the final section of the book. While the author succeeds in providing more than adequate closure, it also means a disproportionate part of the book is spent recounting ceremonial detail, memorial speeches, and other elements of public recognition.
Overall, though, Tinderbox is an excellent read, especially given this is Fieseler’s first book.