Indianapolis' Evolving LGBTQ+ Nightlife: From Secrecy to Sunlight

Indianapolis' LGBTQ+ bar scene has undergone a remarkable transformation, moving from a period of clandestine gatherings and veiled identities to the open, vibrant spaces seen today. This evolution mirrors the broader societal shifts in acceptance and visibility for the community. Once confined to dimly lit establishments that deliberately hid their patrons from public view, gay bars in Indy have emerged into the sunlight, becoming integral parts of the city's social fabric.

Consider the story of Downtown Olly's on North Illinois Street. Years ago, during a renovation, workers uncovered two massive picture windows that had been sealed off since the 1980s. For decades, these windows were hidden, mirroring the era when gay bars, like Brothers (the previous incarnation of Downtown Olly's), were literally and figuratively in the dark. "It was like, 'Oh, my God!'" exclaimed one patron, reflecting on the revelation. "Indianapolis gay bars used to be in the dark, not just figuratively but literally -- they didn't used to have windows."

This sentiment is echoed by Shantel Sifuentes, who noted the palpable difference in today's establishments. Greg's Our Place, for instance, opened its windows in 2005, a symbolic gesture that signifies a broader community desire: "people want the city to know the LGBT community is out there," she observed.

A History of Resilience and Resistance

To truly appreciate the progress, one must look back at the challenges faced by the LGBTQ+ community in Indianapolis. The first Gay Pride event in 1976 was a modest, semi-private dinner at the Essex Hotel, where some attendees wore masks to conceal their identities. This secrecy was born out of necessity in an era rife with discrimination and hostility.

In 1972, a time when Indianapolis boasted over a dozen gay bars—a significant number compared to just two in Cincinnati and Columbus, Ohio, at the time—police raids were a disturbingly common occurrence. Warman recalled an incident at Betty K's, a club housed in a Victorian home, where police attempted to arrest men for dancing with each other. However, the quick-thinking proprietor, Betty Keller, used a pre-arranged signal—flipping a light switch—to warn her patrons, allowing many to evade arrest. Yet, even with such measures, raids often resulted in jail time, especially for those unable to pay immediate fines.

The memory of such an event is stark for McCann, who recounted being among approximately 80 gay men arrested and transported to the Marion County Jail in 1977. Packed into paddy wagons and then a large cell with open toilets, the experience was harrowing. Yet, even in that grim situation, a sense of solidarity emerged. "That was the first time I remember people actually being nice to each other," he shared, recalling how men formed walls to afford privacy for those using the facilities. Despite the indignity, there was no organized protest; instead, fines were paid, and individuals discreetly moved on.

The fight for visibility and rights was a gradual and often uphill battle. Protests against anti-gay legislation, such as the one championed by Representative Don Boys aiming to criminalize sodomy, became necessary. Mary Byrne vividly remembers protesting outside such rallies, highlighting the community's growing resolve.

Even seemingly innocuous events could become flashpoints. The discomfort some felt with gay and lesbian individuals gathering at Monument Circle in the early 1980s led to police videotaping attendees, an act that drew the ire of Stan Berg, a prominent gay bathhouse owner. Berg, often recognized as Indianapolis' first openly political gay man, pressured the Indianapolis Police Department, leading to the establishment of a community liaison for gay and lesbian residents. This pressure, coupled with growing advocacy, culminated in Mayor William H. Hudnut issuing a proclamation in 1982 declaring a city policy against discriminating against gays—a landmark moment for the city.

The Evolution of Sound and Scene

Beyond the legal and social battles, the very culture of gay bars in Indianapolis evolved. Before the widespread adoption of DJs, music was provided by jukeboxes or live performers. At Bolland's, a long-gone establishment at 22nd and Meridian in the early 1960s, patrons like McCann were serenaded by pianist Flo with Cole Porter tunes.

The advent of disco music and skilled DJs marked a new era. Spaulding, initially operating with just turntables at a bar, eventually got his own DJ booth. But the landscape shifted rapidly with the opening of larger venues like Hunt and Chase on South Pennsylvania Street. This multi-story club, with its powerful sound system and mirrored decor, became a dance mecca, amplified by the disco beats of Gloria Gaynor and Donna Summer, expertly mixed by a DJ known as "Turtle." Hunt and Chase soon eclipsed other gay dance clubs.

The dominance continued with the opening of the expansive 21 Club on Talbott Street in the 1980s. Owned by Paul Eckert, often considered the "dean of Indianapolis gay bar operators," the 13,000-square-foot venue became a cornerstone of the scene. Eckert, now 77, remains an active presence, currently owning the Unicorn Club.

The earliest gay bar Eckert remembers visiting in the 1970s was the Varsity Lounge on North Pennsylvania Street, which holds the distinction of being Indianapolis' oldest gay bar, dating back to the 1950s. He described it as a "decorous place" where the proprietor, a woman with a strong presence, kept a close watch on public displays of affection.

Shifting Tides and Community Fragmentation

While shared adversity, like the boycott against Anita Bryant's anti-gay activism, often united the LGBTQ+ community, the absence of such unifying enemies could lead to fragmentation. Mary Byrne, after embracing her sexuality, actively participated in the community, even purchasing a country-and-western bar on East Michigan Street in 1987 and renaming it Labyrus. She actively booked female musicians, creating a space for lesbian artists. However, she also experienced the challenges of community dynamics, once being refused service at her own establishment.

Drag queens, too, have seen their roles and performances evolve. Decades ago, they were known for elaborate, choreographed production numbers that opened and closed shows. Today, solo acts are more common, and some performers now opt for breast augmentation, a trend less prevalent in the past. While Betty K's and Darlo's hosted drag shows, The Famous Door on North Illinois Street was widely regarded as the premier venue for grand performances, according to patrons like Palmer.

Today's Landscape: Openness and Diversity

Back at Downtown Olly's, the scene is vastly different. Baseball plays on the high-definition screens, and the bar, now a gay sports bar, basks in the afternoon light filtering through its prominent windows. This current iteration of Downtown Olly's embodies the openness and integration that many LGBTQ+ establishments now enjoy. The patrons, like Bill, the recovering alcoholic enjoying a Diet Coke, can now feel comfortable and visible in spaces that were once hidden away.

The contemporary Indianapolis bar scene offers an immense diversity of experiences. From the cozy intimacy of Thieves, known for its cocktails and mocktails, to the lively atmosphere of Mass Ave Pub, which has maintained its authenticity over the years, there's a spot for everyone. Dive bars like the east-side establishment that has taken over the space next to the Emerson Theatre offer a raw, punk-infused vibe, hosting local hardcore and punk shows. For those seeking a more curated experience, spots like SNUG offer a refined selection of whiskey and tea, while others boast unique themes, like the tiki bars that transport patrons to exotic locales or the transformed church that offers a playfully sacrilegious drinking experience.

Venues like Bit and Pins cater to a younger, more playful crowd with arcade games and duckpin bowling, respectively, making them ideal for group outings. Fountain Square boasts gems like Imbibe for a more laid-back evening with pool tables, and the elusive speakeasy hidden within the Fountain Square Theatre Building offers an intimate date night experience. The live music scene thrives at places like The Mousetrap, a versatile venue that hosts everything from rock to EDM, and the Dugout, a reliable stop for affordable drinks and live music.

Even established nightlife hubs are adapting. Tin Roof, while a national chain, remains a popular spot for pre-gaming before events at Gainbridge Fieldhouse. Howl at the Moon and Burnside Inn bring the energy with dueling pianos and live bands, creating sing-along, drink-along, and rock-along experiences. Plumps Last Shot offers a relaxed patio atmosphere, steeped in Indiana basketball history, while Prohibition-themed speakeasies evoke a bygone era, now more accessible than ever.

The rise of alcohol-free options also reflects evolving social trends. Bars offering delicious mocktails provide a social alternative for those choosing not to drink, ensuring inclusivity within the broader nightlife landscape. This growing focus on diverse offerings, from themed nights and karaoke to sporting events and live music, ensures that Indianapolis' LGBTQ+ friendly bars continue to be dynamic and welcoming spaces for all.

The journey from the shadows to the spotlight has been long and arduous, but Indianapolis' LGBTQ+ bars stand today as testaments to resilience, community, and the enduring pursuit of visibility and acceptance. They are not just places to drink; they are spaces where history is honored, community is fostered, and the future is celebrated in the warm glow of inclusion.