Connections gay club louisville ky

Opened in by Connection owner George Stinson, the Downtowner occupied a narrow five-story structure that could hold roughly Main St. Stinson, now 70, pauses to recall the details, but chuckles as the memories flood back. Hundreds of gay men and women crowded the nightclub floor, Stinson said. And unlike the gay bars before it, the Downtowner served as a gathering place for activists throughout the s.

Eventually, its popularity outgrew its space, leading him to close the club in and focus on the five-times larger club, the Connection, at S. Floyd St. That older venue, located at Chestnut St. The owners sold Stinson the signage after agreeing to let him use the name.

Iconic Louisville gay night club is being demolished for new hotel

Inside the new club, a casino-esque red carpet and club dance floor shone underneath a lattice of disco lights. Meanwhile, female impersonators from throughout the country strutted down a stage. The crown jewel of the first floor, an oak and stained-glass bar, served concoctions to customers in sparkly shirts and bell bottom pants as they moved their bodies to the pulse of disco beats.

More diverse than other bars, the Downtowner was a popular spot for both black and whites, according to activist David Williams. Many were also closeted gays, professionals who risked losing their jobs if they came out at work, Stinson said. Hundreds traveled from rural Kentucky. Though visitors felt at ease inside the club, hostility lurked outside, Stinson added.

Many left the bar and were assaulted by a rowdy passer-by or confronted with slashed tires. The December after the Downtowner opened, a bomb exploded outside the club, narrowly missing a manager, an incident reported by the Courier-Journal. Next to a white, baby grand piano in the speakeasy-style locale, gay leaders in the early s formed Gays and Lesbians United for Equality, or GLUE, the first coalition of gay men and connections in the city.

The group, an umbrella coalition of activists in the city, organized protests and hosted gay picnics in Cherokee Park. By the mids, the AIDS epidemic had focused more public attention on gay activism. Inthe police raided the Downtowner while wearing rubber gloves — presumably to protect officers from HIV. Indignant, Stinson demanded that the police department not raid the club again, and it never did, he said.

He died, abandoned by his family, but with friends from the club. Following his death, activists who gathered at West worked with gay and churches to establish the Glade House — a still-open Old Louisville home for HIV patients to receive treatment or pass their final days.

It was one of many victories tied to the Downtowner. More than three decades later this year, on a sunny June afternoon, louisville gathered at the Connection to drink and mingle before the annual pride parade. With rainbow flags and shirts for equality, they marched down Main St.