On June 16th, 1981 something specific happened in New York, which was to go onto change everything for us in London.
A thirty five year old, white, gay man was very ill and exhibiting symptoms of severe immunodeficiency and so was admitted to the Clinical Center at the National Institute of Health (NIH) there. Against expectations however, he did not respond to any treatments and his condition did not improve. In fact, he never left the Center again and died there on October 28th, 1981.
Back in London initially we knew little of this detail however and its potential implications. It was though, at around about that time, in the early summer of 1981 that I decided it was perhaps time to give something back to this community, that I was, frankly by then, getting an awful lot out of and having a great deal of fun within. Living by then in April, Hackney’s gay short life housing co-op, at Bethune Rd and still paying a fiver a week, I was not working but studying part time and doing voluntary work at various places, so had plenty of free time.
One of the people, Gus, that I had met in April housing co-op had been working as a volunteer for some time already with London Gay Switchboard, which at that time was about 8 years old, having been launched in early March 1974 and as I mentioned earlier, holed up in a few small rooms above Housmans famous bookshop in central north London’s still rather grimy Caledonian Rd, running just east of Kings Cross station.
In 2004, when it was celebrating its 30th birthday (it’s now in 2024 a remarkable 50 years old), one of the early members there, Dick Stabbins, was speaking to the Guardian about it in fond terms. “It was a 70s-style collective, huge and unwieldy,.. the volunteers had to commit themselves to do some non-phone work as well as staffing the helpline.. that’s how the bureaucracy got done.”
Clearly it was very different to some of the political collectives I’d already been involved Switchboard (now a charity) was a volunteer-run democratic group, (by 2004 albeit with an elected trustee board and two paid staff – an admin officer and an information worker). The article noted then that ‘In an age of increasing professionalisation in the voluntary sector, Switchboard has not bothered with so much as a chief executive’.
“It’s part of the ethos of the organisation – it’s in the DNA,” said David Harvey, another of the early volunteers, (then the chair of Brighton & Hove’s legendary Pride event, and now after living in Spain since 2011, sadly passed away, a victim of Covid 19’s legacy). “We don’t want to get in a situation where we’re told what to do by someone who’s paid. If there’s a structure with a paid person at the top and volunteers under that, it’s a bit like going to work. But it’s not a workplace – it’s ours.”
In those early days, as a young gay man, I had seen a copy of its 1981 Annual Report: that year -my soon to be flatmate- Gus, had featured in a photograph on the front cover, looking very engaged on a call. I had picked the report up. London Gay Switchboard it said ‘is a voluntary non profit making telephone information and help service run by and primarily for homosexual and bisexual men and women. We started in 1974, since when we have received over 650,000 calls‘.
In January 1981, the report went on to tell us, ‘London Gay Switchboard was made up of 78 unpaid volunteers and during 1980 alone had taken 184,941 phone calls, hence making an average of around 500 a day’. It went through the accounts in some detail: everything was meticulously documented. £8,697.54 had been collected that year, including interest of £408.57 from its reserve fund. £8,697.54 had been spent, including £972.32 transferred to its reserve fund.
Now this gay organisation I could see, really had its head screwed on. I still have that report from 1981 and I see that it also came with a special ‘legal report’. This was an analysis of all the legal calls received by London Gay Switchboard in that year. ‘Legal calls represented a small proportion of the total number of calls we received’ (1496 in all, less than 2% of its total calls that year) ‘but they are a vital part of our service to callers’. It went on to say that as from the 1st July in the preceding year they had begun using logsheets designed with help from GLAD (Gay Legal ADvice) and the NCCL (National Council for Civil Liberties).
‘Volunteers do not give legal advice themselves’ it told us, ‘as they are not qualified to do so but try to refer callers to which ever law centre, legal advice centre, solicitor or specialist legal agency can best help. Considerable work on the effectiveness of the legal file together with in service training for volunteers has equipped us with useful procedures for callers in many different situations. It broke down the proportions of calls into a number of categories, which retrospectively tells us the types of legal concerns that were particularly occupying gay men & lesbians in that period (at least in relation to their sexuality). 21% of the calls were about the state of the law: here it mentions the 1967 Sexual Offences Act and makes the point that for many gay men, sexual activity was still illegal. It also makes the point that some of the callers were transvestites or transexuals, who at that time were also potentially liable to be charged under a 1936 Public Order Act and that some of their callers were in the Forces, where homosexuality was still an offence under military law for both sexes.
9% of the legal calls taken were from foreigners in the UK. It notes that many tourists, students and visitors with short stay permits phoned Switchboard when they were here for advice on how to extend their stay, as some of them were afraid to return to their own countries, where attitudes to homosexuality were often very much worse than in the UK, with in some cases the death penalty applying for homosexual acts. 7% of the calls were regarding employment and often specifically in relation to discrimination in employment, relating a specific example they talked of the John Saunders case, where a gay worker with no convictions or complaints against him was sacked because of his sexual orientation. This was by no means an uncommon occurrence in this period with campaigning organisations like the NCCL often helping to fight such dismissals.
Then there were issues around divorce and child custody, which were discussed by 9% of the callers. The reports touches upon the raft of issues that could crop up in this area then, arranged marriages, the need to marry and have children to prove to others that you were ‘normal’, the emotional breakups that might occur when a spouse discovered their partners sexuality and not least the fact that many gay men and lesbians DID want to raise children as loving parents but found the law discriminated against them. Switchboard had a list of sympathetic solicitors who specialised in this area of the law.
Another issue that was commonly brought up then was the subject of blackmail, raised by 6% of Switchboards legal callers. The reports mentions that the disparity in the age of consent at the time (21 for gay sex, 16 for heterosexual sex) led to cases of blackmail for those between 16-21 who had had gay sex. Also, that the social stigma that still surrounded homosexuality then meant that they might well be threatened by family, so called friends or an employer. ‘Often the caller does not have sufficient confidence to resists threats’ the report notes and does not realise that blackmail itself is a very serious offence.
A small percentage were complaints against the police (3%) and under the umbrella of ‘other’ the report noted that 20% of callers didn’t fall into any of the above categories and this area included issues such as Mental Health, drugs, libel/slander, consumer complaints and anticipated arrest. It makes the point that also in this category were many callers who were so nervous that they did not even want to tell the switchboarder exactly why they needed a solicitor. There was then a separate section entitled ‘Callers involved in a Incident with the police‘ of which there were 390 calls (and it notes that all but a handful of the callers were men). 60% of the callers falling into this category reported that they were subsequently charged with a sexual offence. It says that most of the offences appeared to fall into four situations, common to the lifestyle of many gay men.
The first was ‘Cottaging‘, the term used by gay men relating to casual sexual encounters with other men in public toilets. The report notes that ‘to many people this may seem a sordid way of expressing their sexuality‘ and indeed this was very much the majority view in that period (from both homosexual & heterosexual people). It makes the point that many men went to such ‘cottages’ for three key reasons: that they were married and could not visit commercial venues to meet men, secondly, that the stigma attached to being gay prevented them from going to a local gay pub or social group if there was one (this could especially be the case in smaller rural communities) or three, they knew of no other alternative available – and so it was the only option open to give them some way of fulfilling what was often a desperately felt desire, a need for some form of close contact with another man.
There were primarily two offences which arose from these situations, for which charges might be brought against them if they were caught. The first, known legally as importuning was a charge brought by the local police that would allege that the man had been loitering in or near a toilet looking for a sexual encounter. The police often resorted to agent provocateur activity, entrapping men and the officers who were officially engaged in this behaviour became known as ‘pretty policemen’. Many men were caught in this way and prosecuted over the years causing great trauma to themselves and often their families, as they were then named and shamed by the press (including the actor Laurence Olivier for instance) and it was only in 1999 this practice was finally abolished. (In fact Switchboard went on to have two hugely successful gala fundraising events in the 80’s called the ‘Pretty Policeman’s Ball 1/2′, the inspiration being the famous ‘Secret Policeman’s Ball’ fundraisers for Amnesty International).
The second charge that was often brought against those caught in that period, was that of gross indecency. The fact that it was not well defined legally and hence could mean just about whatever the police wanted, made it all the more difficult to deny. The police frequently spent ‘many hours in broom cupboards’ the report notes, ‘up step ladders or behind false partitions in order to entrap gay men’. It makes the point though that often the men arrested had low self esteem that undermined their confidence and they felt might well feel obliged to admit to a crime, which the police could never, in fact, prove.
The second lifestyle factor that could get men into trouble in that period was outside cruising, often in specific areas. One of the most famous of these areas in London was on the western side of Hampstead Heath but there were many others, of which more later. One thing that Switchboard did not do was to give out information about the locations of such cruising areas to callers, although often a call would start with something like ‘I heard Hampstead Health is a good place to meet other men, is that right?’ to which one could only reply ‘I can’t possibly comment’ or words to that effect. If caught by police in such an area gay men could be charged with importuning or gross indecency – and often were. There would be periods when police activity would increase and other times when it would wane in specific areas.
The third area which was sometimes prosecuted was if sexual activity had occurred (in private or public) between a man over 21 and one under 21, and more specifically those men over 16, for whom sex would have been legal if they were have to have it with a woman over 16 but illegal if with a man. Often in practice if the two men were both under 21 no action would be taken, a caution would be given. The report says Switchboard had received calls which made it clear that sometimes gay male teenagers were being threatened by the police, in order to build up a dossier on their older friends as a result of which charges could later be laid.
Finally, the report talks of gay pubs and clubs, and whilst it was perfectly legal by then for men to meet in pubs and clubs, it makes the point that such places were often subject to raids and the harassment of patrons at closing time. A pattern that sometimes emerged they say, is one of deliberate attempts to frighten and humiliate men. Charges of importuning could be brought against men loitering near a pub after it had closed and many of those men would allege that the police had used an agent provocateur.
So what we can see from the contents of this illuminating report is that there was a widescale pattern established in the UK in that period which attempted to make the sexual lives of gay men very difficult, full of the possibility of entrapment and arrest. Clearly things have changed greatly in the past four decades; the evidence is clear from such organisations that keep similar records now and the fact that on marches and parades it is quite common to see lesbian, gay and bisexual policemen walking in the parade. The attitude of the police on such parades has changed completely too. However, reading the report then for myself although I obviously knew of such legal activity, it was a revelation as to the extent of such practices and was one of the factors that made me feel I wanted to offer some kind of support to those who found themselves in such a situation.
Switchboard’s 1981 report finished by making three points. ‘WE NEED YOUR HELP’ it stated in large bold type. 1. We need you 2. We need money 3. We need information. I wasn’t sure I could help significantly with 2 and 3 but my interest was piqued by point 1. Could I give something back to the community? I wasn’t sure, as I had had no experience on a phone line before. I earnestly consulted Gus. What did he think, should I apply to become a volunteer there too? He told me that the selection process to become a ratified volunteer was notoriously tough and run by one of the four organisational arms of Switchboard called ‘Training Group’. The interview process was quite long with two interviewees and you had more or less to say exactly the right things, (according to current credo), to be accepted.
Each interview would then be dissected later by all members of the group and the interviewees would make a recommendation based on the interview to accept or reject the applicant. (Even thirty years later it is still too early to say who was rejected at those meetings, for fear of community ostracisation. I jest of course- but only slightly!) Try it he said, I think you’ll be fine. Thankyou Gus, for having that belief in me then, as in its own way, it is no exaggeration to say the experience changed my life.
To be fair to Training Group and the process, it was important that those allowed on the phones were pretty good at what they did. It is also absolutely no exaggeration to say that you might get, one after another, a suicidal caller, someone scared because they had caught some kind of venereal disease (VD) and having no idea what to do, someone arrested by the police for some kind of illegal public sexual liaison and a young gay person just about to come out and tell his or her first person, that they were lesbian or gay. All very different callers and all had to be handled carefully, delicately and honestly. It is to Switchboard’s eternal credit that day after day, night after night over the decades such calls were (and still are to this day..) handled very well indeed by an unpaid rota of around fifty to sixty people. It is also no great surprise that in 1983, Gay News was moved to call London Gay Switchboard ‘the best thing the movement ever made’. So on the 12th May 1981 I was pleased to pass these hurdles and be accepted on Switchboard, where a training programme then prepped you for those different calls you might be receiving on each shift.
On the 18th May I duly reported at Switchboards office on Caledonian Rd where Les, my assigned trainer was waiting to guide me through my first shift. from 2-6.30 in the afternoon, which at that stage was just listening to how incoming calls were handled. The following Monday 25th I was there by 9.30am ready for a morning shift and on the 27th another afternoon shift. By June 1st I was ready to do my first unaccompanied afternoon shift along with the another volunteer (there were always two people on shift in the daytimes then) and from then on there was no stopping me!
Switchboard’s phone room then was quite tiny and in retrospect, pretty dingy – it’s remarkable how we managed day after day to offer advice to people from all over the UK (and in fact the world) about any number of things affecting lesbian and gay life, in what now seems a far off period. The vast majority of calls were ‘ents’ (entertainments) related and various red binded files were updated very regularly by those in the ‘info’ (Information) group and the stirling work, in particular, of the marvellous and now sadly departed David Seligman. A few years into my time there and we also had the innovation of an actual ‘white board‘ where David would use his coloured marker pens to add the newest clubs & bars to open on the fledgling scene, to keep us up to date with the trends. Often, they would last a few weeks only and we would then see the name crossed out again and the ubiquitous & rather bleak ‘dead‘ written by the name. If they lasted longer they’de make it into the red files, to continue to be regularly given out by switchboarders.
On being accepted as a volunteer, everyone had to join a support group as well and I went for the Admin group first I think and then made it to FR group (Fundraising) when I felt a bit more confident having learnt the ropes and tied the knots. I’m pretty sure I was on Training group too for a while doing those interviews and reporting back with a recommendation about those in the hot seat. The aim of FR group though was to raise enough money each year to keep Switchboard going; it was run pretty efficiently but bills for things such as the phones and premises had to be paid. Gay pubs and clubs would keep donation boxes on their counters for Switchboard but it was the benefits they did and those special events that FR group organised that really brought in the cash.
These developed over the years into some pretty grand scale events and included many mainstream names as performers. In particular I recall being involved in two large events, as mentioned previously, the ‘Pretty Policemens’ Balls’ in 1984 and 1985 held at the Piccadilly Theatre in central London. Amnesty International had originally arranged a fundraising event called the Secret Policemans Ball in 1976 and then staged three more subsequently until 1981 (including members of the infamous Monty Python team) but Switchboard hit upon the idea of a ‘pretty policemens’ version, this being that euphemistic name then given to policemen whose job was to entrap men in public toilets (cottages) by offering sexual favours. The first event featured some of the best LGBT talent of that period, including the musicians Bronski Beat and Tom Robinson, actors Miriam Margolyes and Simon Callow and stand-up comedians Bernard Padden and Simon Fanshawe. The events were managed by two stalwarts of Switchboard at the time, the much missed Mike Rhodes and Barry Jackson. The first one raised £10,000 for the switchboard coffers in 1984.
At one stage there was concern voiced though, that the prices for tickets at these events, for many, were too high for some of those that nevertheless still wanted to support switchboard. Initially in 1984, there was a ‘Poor Punters Party’ at a marvellous old building called the Diorama in Regents Park, which I attended and I then volunteered with others to arrange another all night ‘Poor Punters Party 2’ at the much missed original Scala in Kings Cross (today a more sanitised version exists), before the ´Pride 85´ March in central London on the 29th June 1985.
The theme was ‘The House of Cards´ with a pack of 41 players hung all around the walls of the Scala, with four suites: The Suite of Gay men (pink triangles). the Suite of Lesbians (black triangles) our friends (Hearts) and our enemies (boo, hiss: Clubs) plus a joker. The vibrant programme, printed in black and pink, promised a party from 1115 till dawn and inside the line up told us that ‘the Sleaze Sisters (Trill and Pom, whom Id first met whilst working on Framed Youth) would start the music rolling, with Movements DJ’s Berni & Martyn taking over and lasting (hopefully!) until about 5am’. In the cinema and on the stage would be ‘Ransome & Oppenheimer at midnight, Parker and Klein presenting material from their current show at the Oval House at 1240, Gus Cairns with his new band ‘Skin to Skin’ (weren’t switchboarders a talented bunch?) at 1.40, Derek Jarman shorts (that’s short films..) at 2.40, an early (1967) edition of the Avengers, with Patrick Mc Neil as Steed and the iconic Diana Rigg as Mrs Peel at 3.00 (on 35mm film, entitled ‘the Joker’) and That’s Entertainment at 4.10′. I thank the Switchboard organising team inside:, Mark Sreeves, Eamonn Andrews and Jim Mc Nicholas, as well as a host of others.
I think that’s what was the best thing above all about the Switchboard Benefits, the fact so many people gave up their time and energy to create a ‘special’ event, which was ultimately benefiting others in the lesbian & gay community.
The event, even the day after, remains a bit of a blur and I’d imagine (knowing how these things are..) that I was chasing round most of the time trying to sort out minor catastrophes but I do recall walking into the cinema at about 3am and seeing it was quite packed and then hearing a huge, huge cheer break out right across the whole cinema, as the iconic music theme to the ‘Avengers’ struck up, in enhanced, loud stereo (those of you old enough will understand what I mean..). In fact I can still recall that moment and hear it, quite vividly, in my mind.
It was, all in all, a good night, however, I am, to this day, somewhat embarrassed by the fact that we misjudged most punters desire to come out, before rising for the Pride March the following day and the numbers attending, though reasonable, meant we actually lost money on the event. To their eternal credit I can’t recall anyone on FR group chastising us for it but making the best of it, by saying people had said they thoroughly enjoyed it. The all nighters, an eclectic mix of club music dance and film, which the Scala hosted between 1984-87 were usually legendary but that’s another story.
Eventually, it was decided that Switchboard was so grubby and so over-used it needed a regular cleaner (and trust me, it really did..) and it was decided that some money should be offered for having the place scrubbed down every week.
I was still a broke student and took on the job, for three hours each week. The windows in particular which got cleaned outside and inside by me every fortnight were often black with dust, grime and particulates. It wasn’t the healthiest place to live or work then. The Channel 4 ‘Russell T Davies drama series ‘It’s a sin’ mocked up the switchboard phone room in one episode and despite a good effort my initial reaction on seeing it. was that it was far too ‘new’ and -more especially- far too clean!
At about the same time, I was also doing my film degree and as a part of it made a video documentary about doing a nightshift on Switchboard, (ingeniously called ‘Nightshift‘) in which we mocked up a range of typical calls that might be received by someone on an ‘all night’ shift there, between 10pm and 8am. It was often a long gruelling night, especially at weekends, not surprisingly the entirely voluntary shift was often hard to fill and there are a number of people out there today (and sadly too many no longer with us ) who still have my unreserved thanks for filling in those big rota gaps, when I was the Switchboard rota coordinator for a year or so.
‘Nightshift ‘showed us a guy who had been arrested outside The Bell; a young guy, played by the much missed Toby Kettle, ringing from his parents house at 2am in the morning, who was coming out for the first time and a lesbian looking for somewhere decent to go on a Saturday night, in a London town that still predominantly catered for gay men. Debbie Klein (at the time one half of that comedy duo Parker & Klein I mentioned) doing a weekend only 11-2am shift) & the late, also much missed, James Neale Kennerley were the two ‘real life’ switchboarders, hamming it up for posterity on the shift. (I realise re-reading this I have been writing much missed a lot. It is true though, I really loved those guys, the camaradery we all had was incredible. I allow myself a few tears to fall, silly old fool that I am, as I type this).
Often the key referral for coming out calls even then, in the mid eighties, was to one of those hundred or so CHE local groups that I mentioned earlier, based in regional cities & towns around England & Wales. There were sometimes local youth groups or sections affiliated to these larger groups by then but in the main there weren’t. By then the groups had usually mainly devolved away from their original political roots and affiliations and had renamed themselves as gay societies– a place that people in smaller locations, away from the largest provincial centres had a place to go and meet other gay men, bisexuals & lesbians. Even then, the significance of these groups in this period for offering support and assistance to many isolated gay men in England & Wales, cannot be understated. The acronym ..AGS (Area Gay Society) was usually prefixed by the local group town’s name such as KRAGS (Kingston & Richmond area gay society) RAGS, (Redhill Area Gay Society) and the still functioning, rather memorable GAGS (Guildford Area Gay Society). These all formed part of a rich network of constantly evolving groups that Switchboard had, to connect people with a potential local support network.
The fact is however, that real night shifts were sometimes even more harrowing than the fictional one we portrayed in Nightshift, as the many dozens of switchboard volunteers notes attested to in the switchboard ‘logs’ that were kept from its inception onwards. These were invaluable logbooks that volunteers would use to keep a note of any ongoing issues relating to events, particular calls that had taken place where information had been given or shared, that were felt to be of use more widely or in case the caller rang back again with further developments or news. Their importance then (and indeed, as a historical archive now) was recognised recently by the creation of a series of podcasts called simply ‘The Log Books’ which used this large archive to tell some of the stories they contained (maintaining confidentiality of course); the producers of the podcast read through hundreds of pages of notes and interviewed dozens of people to collect their memories and they are still available as an online download, should you care to listen to them.
Switchboard: The log books: https://www.thelogbooks.org/about
Before starting a shift, we were strongly encouraged to read the latest entries in the logbook to familiarise ourselves with any legal, social or commercial developments that might have taken place or related ongoing calls , for which we might receive follow ups. Some callers became quite regular over a period, updating us with life events as they progressed, often asking for advice about decisions that needed to be made or professional organisations & people that could be turned too. A particularly infamous regular caller to Switchboard in the early eighties was known simply as ‘ Bob from Bicester‘ but there were many over the decades.
Although switchboarders were encouraged not to become too close to callers, maintaining a professional emotional distance, we were allowed to give out a first name- such as David W- and let them know when we would be on again, so the caller would know that the person they spoke to already had some understanding of their situation. The need to keep clearly defined boundaries with callers was often a difficult and highly nuanced one, no more especially so, than during these night shifts, which often allowed for a longer call than during the day time, and which we would note down on the log sheet as a ‘chat’ call. These often become more personal over time, as you offered a little more of yourself to the caller, that is, as ideas were shared, and your own experiences about dealing with aspects of gay life- in a still relatively hostile world- were imparted. These naturally created some element of bonding with a caller, especially I think for the younger callers.
There were clear codes of conduct about how far to take this and sometimes switchboarders would decide it would be in the callers best interests if they asked another person to take over a series of calls, if they felt there was a likelihood that boundaries were starting to be being blurred. There were also calls where the resonance of the callers situation was such for volunteers, that it become emotionally difficult to continue a call and in those instances too another volunteer might take over a call or series of calls.
As we were putting up some tinsel and decorations in the phoneroom just before Christmas in 1982, on the 12th December, ‘AIDS’ came a step closer to us all however, as a 49 year old gay man, who was a frequent traveller to the United States died in London’s Brompton Hospital due to an Aids related illness. In response London Gay Switchboard and the Gay Medical Association held a public meeting about AIDS at Conway Hall, London to address the issues and concerns about this new disease that were now becoming widespread. Terry Higgins also became another person here in the UK known to die of an Aids-related illness. His partner, Rupert Whitaker, and close friends Martyn Butler and Tony Calvert formed the Terry Higgins Trust (later renamed the Terrence Higgins Trust) in his memory, after a further public meeting at the London Apprentice pub in the East End.
In this very traumatic early period of HIV & AIDS, when callers were often highly distraught and upset, it was sometimes difficult to maintain calm and composed yourself when the callers fears played to some extent on your own concerns and worries, as we knew so little about the virus and how it affected people, but we did the best we could in the circumstances. These ‘AIDS’ related calls were to continue increasing through 1983 and 1984. By the end of 1984, there had been one hundred and eight ‘AIDS’ cases and forty six deaths in the UK; this felt like a lot to us all then but in fact this was just the beginning of the ‘storm’.
Switchboard continued though, as ever, answering all sorts of calls from people, and indeed many were very positive with switchboarders assisting in helping people to ‘come out’. Of course there was a complete ban on meeting callers personally and in the very few instances where this was found to have happened, switchboarders would be asked to leave the organisation. As with all voluntary organisations though, it was sometimes difficult to know in which direction to take a caller in order for them not to get ‘involved’. I personally never forgot that we often had a great deal of power in such situations and that a huge degree of trust was being placed in the switchboarder by the caller, even in making and continuing a call. We all knew it was absolutely vital to Switchboard’s success as a credible organisation, that we had to remain ‘squeaky clean’, a completely reputable organisation. To its credit, its existence to this day I think, says something about the success of that endeavour.
Nevertheless, many of us loved ‘Switchboard’ as an entity though; it was another, more or less, labour of love- perhaps because it was so clear that there was a real need for it, as services of its kind were simply not being offered, at the time, in the statutory sectors.
So nightshifts were often times of greater emotion, heightened by the dark, the type of calls taken at those times and the likelihood of specific issues being raised and the fact that they could be very tiring, as they were long and continuous, there was no break. A lot of caffeine (from some frankly pretty awful coffee!) often got many of us through the night. I still recall being on Switchboard over a Saturday nightshift weekend on the 20th August 1989, which I can date now by looking at the history books. I had a call at about five am from an emotionally upset caller, who told me that a cruise boat on the Thames in the centre of the city had been ‘rammed’ by another boat a few hours before, then had taken on water quickly and had sunk mid river. The caller said that several friends he knew had been on the boat and he hadn’t heard from any of them and was very worried, did I know anymore? If I recall rightly he said that he was meant to have been going with them but for several reasons couldn’t make it. I didn’t know anymore about it at the time but duly noted the call in the log book, asking for more details, if anyone else rang in with more information. I didn’t need to wait long, as the event was the sinking of the ‘Marchioness’ pleasure boat, by the much larger dredger, the Bowbelle, and it turned out that quite a number of gay men had been on it, for a friends private 26th birthday party: that of Antonio de Vasconcellos.
The Marchioness had been hired for the evening and had about 130 people on board, four of whom were crew and bar staff. Both vessels were heading downstream, against the tide, the Bowbelle travelling faster than the smaller vessel. Although the exact paths taken by the ships, and the precise series of events and their locations, were never fully clarified, the subsequent inquiry considered it likely that Bowbelle struck the Marchioness at about 1.30am from the rear, causing the latter to turn to port, where she was hit again, then pushed along, turning over and being pushed under Bowbelle‘s bow.
It took just thirty seconds for Marchioness to sink; twenty four bodies were found within the ship, when it was raised from the Thames, and fifty one people in all died in the disaster, all on the pleasure boat. The collision and the subsequent reports led to increased safety measures on the Thames, and four new lifeboat stations were installed on the river.
The tragedy caused the greatest loss of life on the River Thames since the sinking of the Princess Alice, near current day Thamesmead, in 1878. The hearings and appeals dragged on for a decade after the event. Civil claims for compensation were brought, on behalf of the victims’ families; the amounts received ranged from between £3,000 and £190,000. Eileen Dallaglio, the mother of Francesca Dallaglio, one of the victims, reported that she had been awarded £45,000. After the costs of having to go to the Court of Appeal to obtain damages, and the bills for the memorial and funeral service, she was left with £312.14.
For me, it was both a shock and a reminder though, that the night shift was often the time when a lot was happening in the lives of the gay men and lesbians we spoke too, London then having a busy all night scene: contacts were being made, lives were being shaped and there were many who needed to talk to someone at the end of them, about the experiences, both good and bad that they had been through.
Queen Elizabeth II acknowledged the fortieth anniversary of the organisation’s founding, in 2014, marking the first time she has had any involvement, voiced support or recognised an LGBT charity during her reign (You would think she might have been a little more grateful for much of her staff’s years of service wouldn’t you?), and the first time the Crown has ever publicly supported the LGBT community. Now rebranded as LGBT+ Switchboard it continues to be there for people that need to talk day in day out, and celebrates its fiftieth birthday in March 2024. As Gay News said, all those years ago, it is surely ‘one of the best things the movement ever made’.
On to Sex, love and life (The Rituals) 2.18 1982: A Brief Encounter with The Pied Bull
