Route 66, the Mother Road, the artery for the classic American road-trip turns 100 this year. From the streets of Chicago to the beaches of Santa Monica, the road has carried travelers from all walks of life. That includes people in the LGBTQ+ community who have a stake in its legacy.
“Even today, every gay bar that I know of is directly on Central Avenue,” said Lazarus Letcher, PhD candidate at the University of New Mexico. “Like a moth to a gay flame.”
Letcher is researching the road and wrote an article in El Palacio for its anniversary. Letcher said back in the day queer travelers looking for safety, or a good time, found ways to locate their preferred establishments.
“Those early bars did not have rainbow flags outside, but you could figure out what they were through word of mouth,” Letcher said. “And if you didn't know word of mouth because you're traveling, you could use the Damron guides.”
Letcher explained that the Damron guide was a listing compiled by San Francisco based bar owner Bob Damron. Unofficially called the “Gay Guide,” it was created in the 1960s by Damron as he logged places where he felt safe as a traveling gay man.
The Damron guide was similar to the Green Book that black travelers used to find black-friendly accommodations in the South.
Letcher pointed out, however, that while the Green Book clearly spelled out when businesses were black-owned, the Damron Guide had to be more covert. It wasn’t until 1999 when the book first used the word “gay” on the cover after much discussion, since possessing a book obviously for queer people could get people in trouble.
While The Gay Guide featured places to stay and do business, its main focus was on places of socialization like bars, clubs, and cruising locations, places where LGBTQ+ people could hang out in search of casual sex.
According to Letcher, the guide also categorized different establishments and how safe they were.
“They would have a label and it was just ‘HOT’ in all capital letters and it didn't mean ‘cute boys are here,’ It meant the cops are here,” Letcher said.
Anyone can see the digitized Damron guides at Mappingthegayguides.org, but the website acknowledges that the guides are an incomplete picture of LGBTQ+ travel since they were geared towards gay men.
Ethan Brown is working on an official Route 66 initiative called the Route 66 2SLGBTQ+ Historic Sites Project. It’s trying to create a digital map of historic queer sites along the road. Brown is actively trying to highlight the diversity found on Route 66.
“[I’m] trying to get a diverse sort of makeup, there's two spirit sites and indigenous sites, and [I’m] trying to get some Latino sites,” Brown said.
In addition to historic sites, Brown is also planning to add commemorative sites, like a route of the Mother Road named after gay Cherokee playwright Lynn Wright.
“I feel like just being able to connect physically with the history really makes such a difference,” Brown said. “I hope that both queer people in general but also tourists can use this as a sort of resource for their travels.”
Brown grew up along Route 66 in Joplin, Missouri and has a background in both tourism and historic preservation - and had been curious about the queer history of Route 66.
For the centennial, Brown pitched his research project as an official Route 66 initiative. It was approved.
“Which was sort of surprising both on my part and the person I was working with at the Centennial Commission, just based on the sort of political climate,” Brown said.
The project is funded through the LGBTQ Heritage Alliance. Brown started out as a one-man band trying to log 100 years of queer markers along the over 2,400 miles of the Mother Road. Now that the project has taken off, many volunteers have reached out to give Brown a helping hand.
Brown is still looking for sites to add. People who have suggestions can submit them at his project’s website.
In Albuquerque, a similar initiative has sprung up. It’s the brainchild of Christopher Ramirez of Together for Brothers, a local community organization.
“Originally we were thinking just like something small,” Ramirez said. “And it's great because it's really snowballed as we've started talking to others and learning about other things that are happening.”
The original goal was to place historical markers, similar to a recent project that created historical markers for women in the state. But during a community session, it became clear that queer Burqueños wanted more -- such as murals, QR codes, and accessible archives.
And the support continues to grow. The City of Albuquerque and Bernalillo County have expressed interest in the project. Councilmember Nichole Rogers, County Commissioner Adriann Barboa, the Mayor’s office, and the city’s Arts and Culture department have all gotten in touch, according to Ramirez.
“A project we thought would be a couple months is now looking like maybe a project that will have a life of its own,” Ramirez said. “And that's exciting to think about.”
Ramirez came to Albuquerque in the ‘90s and quickly became active in the local LGBTQ+ community. He said that he’s passionate about passing along the history because the community has not always been able to do so.
“Our stories aren't our privilege, our stories are our right,” Ramirez said. “We need to make sure that we figure out all kinds of ways to make sure those stories get shared.”
Albuquerque’s queer history and Route 66’s history are intrinsically intertwined. After all, Albuquerque’s first pride parade marched down Central Ave., a route still followed today. And many of the places listed in the Damron guide are situated on or just off Central in Nob Hill and the International district.
Yet with such a storied history, a gaping hole remains in Ramirez’s efforts.
“The lack of the documentation, the videos, photos, but also some of the stories that I've lost, because we've lost people,” Ramirez said.
For most of Route 66’s history, queerness was a crime. So documenting queer activity meant also creating evidence for being outed, or shut down.
“All of these different constellations of laws, either sodomy laws or obscenity laws -- they would find whatever excuse they could get to bust gay establishments,” Letcher said.
That means much of the early history that does remain is oral, according to Ramirez. And with the AIDS epidemic, and an aging population, older queer histories are at risk of being lost.
Also, Central Avenue is changing. According to Ramirez, the Pride Parade once ended at Yale Park which no longer exists. The park has been replaced by the UNM bookstore.
While it’s natural for businesses to come and go, queer sites are at a unique disadvantage. According to etcher, various factors have contributed to their disappearance -- like the rise of the internet replacing physical queer spaces for socializing and the fact that acceptance had made it possible for queer people to no longer need exclusive spaces to express themselves.
“Before, if you wanted to meet a gay, you'd have to go into one of these brick and mortar establishments to find one in the wild,” Letcher said. “And along Route 66 in Albuquerque, more than half of the gay bars have closed.”
Letcher said putting up historical markers corrects any misconception that LGBTQ+ community emerged recently or that knowing queer history is just for queer people.
“I think having commemorative markers along Route 66 for LGBTQ history really flies in the face of this misconception,” Letcher said. “We've always been, and we've always existed along this route.”
Outside Albuquerque, many other cities have queer hubs on the mother road, like West Hollywood’s “Rainbow District” and Oklahoma City’s 39th Street District.
Both the local and national projects documenting queer Route 66 history plan to announce further steps at the end of the summer.
