On June 24, 1973, Pride Sunday in New Orleans, the bar was hosting its regular “beer bust” drink special from 5 to 7 pm. About 90 patrons were enjoying themselves, singing Broadway tunes around the grand piano and discussing an upcoming fundraiser for a local hospital. At 7:56 pm, a buzzer from downstairs sounded, indicating someone was at the door. A patron opened the door and found the front staircase engulfed in flames and the smell of lighter fluid.
Panic erupted as people tried to escape the inferno. The windows were covered with metal bars, preventing most from jumping out. The bartender, an Air Force veteran, Buddy Rasmussen, led about 20 people out of a back exit to the roof, where they could access a neighboring building and climb down to safety. Others were not so lucky. Some died from smoke inhalation or burns, others from falling or jumping from windows. One man, Duane Mitchell, had escaped but went back inside to look for his partner, Louis Broussard. Their bodies were found fused together.
The fire was extinguished in 16 minutes, but the horror was not over. The bodies of the victims were left on display for hours, attracting gawkers and photographers. Some were so badly burned that they could not be identified. The media coverage was insensitive and sensationalized, often mocking or blaming the victims for their fate. The police investigation was sloppy and inconclusive, never identifying a suspect or a motive. The primary suspect was Roger Nunez, a gay man who had been ejected from the bar earlier that day and had a mental illness history. He confessed to several people that he had started the fire, but later recanted. He committed suicide in November 1974.
The public response was equally appalling. Many politicians and religious leaders ignored or condemned the tragedy, refusing to offer condolences or support to the survivors and families of the victims. Some churches refused to hold funerals or memorial services for the dead. Some families refused to claim their relatives’ bodies out of shame or fear. Only one public official, City Councilman Joseph DiRosa Jr., attended a memorial service held by MCC at St. Mark’s United Methodist Church on June 25.
The UpStairs Lounge fire was a devastating blow to the LGBTQIA+ community and the Metropolitan Community Church, in New Orleans and beyond. It exposed the hatred and bigotry they faced daily and the lack of protection and recognition they deserved as human beings. It also galvanized some activists to fight for justice and equality, demanding accountability from authorities and respect from society.The Upstairs Lounge Fire will always be more than a page in the history books to me. To me, it is a childhood memory. I was twelve at the time, and everybody knew I was gay… except me. I remember the jokes told by radio shock jockeys and repeated on the playground. I might have even laughed at one or two of them, I was so closeted.Fifty years later, we remember and honor those who perished in the fire and those who survived it. We acknowledge their courage and resilience in the face of adversity and violence. We celebrate their contributions and legacy to the LGBTQIA+ movement and culture. We also recognize how far we have come since then and how much we still have to do to achieve full acceptance and inclusion for all LGBTQIA+ people.
The UpStairs Lounge fire was a tragedy and a turning point in LGBTQIA+ history. It is our duty to never forget it and to learn from it.
Video Credits:
House of the Rising Sun
(traditional song)
Lyrics by Joshua Shank
Performed by the Twin Cities Gay Men’s Chorus
Dr. Gerald Gurss, artistic director
Timothy de Prey, principal accompanist
Video by Matt Butts