Friday, 27 June 1969 is a significant date in the history of twentieth century gay liberation. For it is the day of the infamous Stonewall riot, a turning point in queer history, when the gay community finally fought back against their oppressors in the guise of the NYPD.

As with most gay bars in New York City at the time, the Stonewall Inn was owned by the Mafia. Nevertheless, despite paying protection payment, the cops still saw fit to raid this gay watering hole. Unlike on previous occasions the patrons decided to riot in protest against their treatment by the boys in blue. It was this event that many see as ground zero and one of the largest campaign groups in the United Kingdom is called Stonewall in honour of that day when the faggots decided to stand up and be counted.

Just because the Mob owned the Stonewall and many other gay bars did not necessarily mean that they were sympathetic to their patrons´ plight at the time. Indeed, they were, and still are, as homophobic as the police, if perhaps even more so.

With gangsters an almost permanent fixture on the cinema screens and, now with the global success of The Sopranos, television, crime is one of the few professions where a man can still be a real man - or can he? The casual machismo displayed in Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels or the amoral hipness of Tarantino´s Reservoir Dogs. Francis Ford Coppola´s Godfather series cemented our view of the Mafia as almost the essence of criminal chic. Yet at the time, no one was allowed to even mention the word onscreen, although it beggars belief whether anyone failed to understand what the true nature of the Corleone family business was.

For nearly most of the last century, J Edgar Hoover, head of the Federal Bureau of Investigation, denied the existence of organised crime in America. Many found this rather odd, but rumours have abounded since his death that the Mob had something on him.

Hoover, a lifelong bachelor, had an odd relationship with his second-in-command, Clyde Tolson, having no pictures on his desk of his family, only those of Tolson. One belief states that the Mafia also had photographs of Hoover in compromising situations and that was the reason why he never publicly admitted the existence of the Mob.

Ethel 'There´s No Business Like Showbusiness' Merman, the extrovert singer, when asked about an anti-gay campaign led by Anita Bryant, commented that some of her closest friends were homosexual and everybody knew about Hoover and that did not stop him from being the best chief of the FBI. Her rather ingenuous statement, however, does have some basis in fact, as Susan Rosensteil, a mobster´s wife, alleged that she had once seen Hoover at New York´s Plaza Hotel in 1958 in full drag. Not only that but he had also introduced himself to her as 'Mary.'

With the rise of the tabloid press, on both sides of the pond, it is now open season on any famous person, once they have passed away, since the dead cannot sue for libel. Yet years after his demise the rumours still persist.

During his own lifetime, however, Hoover´s attempts to keep a lid on any 'lies' about his sexuality whilst in office were followed through with all the diligence the Bureau could muster at the time. One particular incident demonstrates the lengths Hoover and the FBI would travel to keep a lid on any potential scandal.

A clerk at the FBI had heard a beautician gossiping in a Washington beauty parlour whilst she was having her hair done. She reported the comments and Hoover dispatched two agents immediately to deal with the culprit. The allegations involved the Director being paid off by the capital´s bookies but also that J Edgar liked men. Suitably intimidated, the two women who had held the impromptu conversation backed down and were chastised enough that no further action need be taken. The clerk was commended for her loyalty not only to the Bureau but its Director.

This and other scandalous tittle-tattle about Hoover´s private life were routinely squashed during his lifetime, but very soon after his death it was impossible to hold back the river of evidence. Needless to say, a great deal of it revolved around the true nature of his relationship with Clyde Tolson - one that had lasted over forty years together and many had speculated about the true relationship between these two lifelong bachelors.

Tolson´s early rise through the FBI was meteoric and he became Hoover´s deputy within a few years of joining the Bureau. Because their joint secretary burnt most of Hoover´s personal effects, in accordance with the Director´s wishes, a great deal of how the relationship is viewed is conjecture and based on anecdotal evidence such as that of Merman and other witnesses. Not everything was destroyed that could shine a light on their life together.

Candid photographs from numerous albums convey some idea of the true nature of Hoover and Tolson´s relationship. There are literally hundreds of snaps taking during their lifetimes, including some striking shots of Tolson that Hoover took when the younger man was sleeping, a situation most men would find unsettling even in our more liberal age. Others depict the two men in bathrobes or stripped to the waist on a beach somewhere. Tolson is the main subject of a great deal and many portray him against various backdrops of holiday spots. No physical intimacy, apart from when they are included in a group shot, is ever expressed visually but in the more intimate shots there is a feeling of a close, if not loving, partnership.

G. Gordon Liddy, American chat show host and former FBI employee himself, commented on the hunger of the Left to out Hoover and Tolson, although the true nature of their relationship will probably never be known. Liddy is quoted as saying that it is bizarre that the forces of political correctness are using all their might to ensure equality for homosexuals but are more than willing to use accusations of homosexuality to discredit right-wingers such as the late Director of the FBI.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the Atlantic - and the other side of the law - certain people in Britain were more than prepared to, not only acknowledge the existence of the Mafia but also, have dealings with them: the Krays.

Along with the Richardsons, the Kray twins, Ronnie and Reggie, were one of the main firms that ruled London´s criminal underworld in the late fifties and early sixties. Ronnie, especially, was known for his bad temper. He was also known to be bisexual and he never hid his liking for handsome young men. It was this pride in his sexuality that would later be his undoing.

George Cornell was a member of the Richardson firm and it was his alleged comment about Ronnie being a 'fat poof' that led to his death at the hands of the rival firm and Ronnie´s subsequent incarceration in Broadmoor. The Blind Beggar incident gave the Establishment their reason for arresting the twins, along with the murder of Jack 'The Hat' McVitie, that led to their downfall, but strangely not their reputation. If Cornell had been more selective about his vocabulary he may not have met with such a sticky end, as the twins´ biographer John Pearson points out in his seminal work about the Krays, especially Ronnie in, The Profession of Violence:

"There was no hint of effeminacy about him. 'I´m not a poof, I´m a homosexual,' he would say, and was genuinely put out by the antics of effeminate males. 'Pansies,' he used to say, with the same cockney contempt with which he pronounced the word 'women'."

Much as the Great Train Robbers, such as Ronnie Biggs, their jailing did nothing but fan the flames of a growing legend. The Krays have spawned a mini-industry, including books, television documentaries and even a feature film starring the Kemp brothers, Martin and Gary. Peter Medak´s film may have portrayed them as psychopathic gangsters but, hey, they were good to their Mum! It also did not shy away from Ronnie´s bisexuality, although his attraction to boys is only referred to in one brief scene. Neither overstated or submerged, it is simply there for the audience to make it what they will. Despite this side to their natures, the Krays twins are presented as the ultimate bad boys and hard men of the criminal underworld that ruled London in the Swinging Sixties.

This traditional appreciation for 'hard men' dates back to the English Civil War. Musketry had been used on the battlefield for a number of years but the weaponry could still be prone to inflict injuries not just on the enemy but the user himself. Under the pressure of battle, normal drills could not be maintained and when the powder was not correctly compressed musket balls could cause painful wounds, although not necessarily fatal damage. Among the ordinary men of the line a superstitious belief in these 'hard men' to avoid death despite such danger created a myth that is still adhered to by many in the media as well as the general public.

Which is in contrast to the American gangster genre where homosexuality is rarely, if at all, ever acknowledged. Whereas in Guy Ritchie´s directorial debut Hatchet Harry can still bludgeon a man to death with a dildo and no one questions whether or not he can no longer whistle being queer is a different matter entirely across the water.

When Steve Buscemi´s character has to adopt the title of Mr Pink in Tarantino´s first feature, he is suitably appalled but not appalled enough to confront the legendary Lawrence Tierney who is giving out the gang´s colourful monikers. Tierney, himself a screen hero for depictions of real-life gangsters such as Dillinger, merely informs Buscemi that he is Mr Pink because he´s a 'faggot'. Needless to say, the now newly dubbed Mr Pink is less than enamoured but too much of a coward to do anything about it. Other American gangster flicks are even less candid.

Arthur Penn´s classic Bonnie and Clyde changed the cinema´s attitude towards screen violence, being at once more realistic but glamorising it to such an extent its influence is still felt today in the films of Stallone, Willis and Schwarzenegger. One vital aspect of Clyde Barrow´s life was omitted, despite its candid attitude towards guns and crime.

Barrow, portrayed by screen heartthrob and serial womaniser Warren Beatty, is depicted as having an off-on affair with Faye Dunaway´s Bonnie. In real life, Beatty´s character had more of a passion for the mechanic, as played by Michael J. Pollard. Barrow´s ambiguous attitude to his sexuality is underplayed in the movie and revolves around his relationship with Bonnie and its sexual consummation. In real life, Barrow was raped in his youth and this could explain his ambivalence.

Strange how Penn´s picture radically changed popular cinema´s attitude to violence on screen but obscured one of the central character´s prime motivation for such violence. Was he trying to prove his manhood with his criminal activities? Or did he already believe himself to be a criminal because of his sexuality? At the time, it would have been virtually impossible to address these issues in anything but an oblique reference here or there. In 1967, America was dealing with Vietnam and Stonewall was still in the future.

British cinema has been far less coy when it comes to confronting the queer undercurrents in its gangster genre. From Richard Attenborough´s boyish leader of a razor gang in Brighton Rock, whose patch is threatened by a character called Corleone, to the killing of Colin in The Long Good Friday, the pivotal movie that clearly made a great impression on nascent film director Guy Ritchie. To such an extent, Ritchie has featured several players from this groundbreaking thriller in his first two features.

Dirk Bogarde´s appearance as a closeted barrister in Victim was a turning point for the portrayal of gay men on the big screen, but there has been an unspoken understanding, if not approval, of gay criminals. James Cagney may have such a mother fixation that when he dies at the end of White Heat he spouts the immortal words: 'Look, Ma. Top of the world!' but it rarely goes further into darker territory. Back in Blighty, theatre audiences appear to have been made of sterner stuff, appreciating the sexual ambiguity.

The rather jocular attitude is exemplified in the classic British comedy The Italian Job, featuring a character with the name of 'Camp' Freddie as well as a cameo role from the Master, Noel Coward, in one of his last film roles. So familiar is the stereotype that they are now being parodied to a ridiculous extent. Witness the Minnie Driver vehicle and Thelma and Louise rip-off High Heels and Low Lives featuring Michael Gambon playing a gloriously seedy Mr Big called Kerrigan with boy-lover in tow.

Hoover must be spinning in his grave. Once considered the public face of law and order in the United States he is now more of a villain, certainly to the Left. Yet Ronnie Kray, a convicted murderer and gangster, has become a hero. It calls to mind the wonderful understatement delivered by Big Chris at the end of Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels: 'It´s been emotional.'

© Howard Watson 2009