Yankee Doodle Dandies

A timely outing of some gay heroes of American independence

 
 
 

he Fourth of July is an apt occasion for outing a few Bay State Revolutionary War soldiers. Of course, none would have ever called themselves “homosexual,” “lesbian,” “bisexual,” “transgender,” or “gay”—well, actually one of them did call herself “Gay,” though not “gay”—but more on that in a minute. Such labels didn’t exist in 18th-century America.

The History Project, Boston LGBT archive, makes persuasive arguments for including these patriots in an Independence Week backstory.

In its book Improper Bostonians: Lesbian and Gay History from the Puritans to Playland, Deborah Sampson (1760–1827) is noted for having posed as a man named “Robert Shurtleff” to enlist in the Continental Army in 1782. She is also noted, according to a 1797 biography, for having had “intercourse … with her sex,” something her biographer felt compelled to apologize for, saying: “It must be supposed, she acted more from necessity, than a voluntary impulse of passion.” Sampson’s lack of a penis was discovered when she fell ill and was hospitalized. She was honorably discharged, later married—a man—and (though she was excommunicated from her church, the First Baptist Church of Middleborough) became a hero for her services, receiving a state pension and, at the behest of Paul Revere, a federal military pension of $4 a month. There’s even a statue of her in front of the public library in Sharon, where she died in 1827. So much for don’t ask, don’t tell. (That’s her grave, above.)

Alack, alas, no hero status was bestowed on poor Ann Bailey. That courageous cross dresser enlisted in the army as Samuel Gay (how prescient of her!), was discovered, indicted, and tried in August 1777 for her deceit. She was sentenced to two months in jail, fined £16, and ordered to pay court costs.

Finally there’s George Middleton, adroitly titled by the History Project’s book as “The soldier, the hairdresser, and the sailor.” After leading “Bucks of America,” an all-black regiment, in the Revolutionary War, Middleton settled down with Louis Clapion, a French-West Indian hairdresser, in a home they built at 5 Pinckney St., now the oldest surviving house on Beacon Hill. Clapion moved out in 1792 when he got married—to a woman. Bachelor Middletown, the History Project found, never married, “and his main friendships seem to have been with other men. When he died in 1815, he willed all his possessions to ‘my good friend Tristom Babcock,’ a mariner living on West Cedar Street.”

Even More Queer …

And speaking of American heroes, even before C.A.Tripp’s controversial 2005 book The Intimate World of Abraham Lincoln, many speculated about the famous president’s attraction to men. Whether you believe the homo-leaning evidence or not—and, in my own biased gay way, I find it compelling—among the ironic twists of fate for this favorite son of Illinois is that one his most famous portraits resides in the statehouse of America’s gayest state—ahem, that’d be our state. It’s in Doric Hall. And, according to no less of an authority than the Secretary of the Commonwealth, it is one of only three paintings of the Emanicipating Man to portray him standing at full height, since he was apparently embarrassed by how tall he was. And that, to me, appears to be compelling evidence that, well, Lincoln was embarrassed by how tall he was.

James Lopata is editor of Boston Spirit magazine.