“Mad Homosexual Parties” at Frederick Apartments, a Future Mayor, and MU’s Gay Purge

Written By Matt Fetterly

On January 7, 1949, the Associated Press reported that four Columbia men had been sentenced by the Boone County Circuit Court for “homosexual activities.” A fifth man, Emery Kennedy Johnston, had already been sentenced. E.K. Johnston, a professor who had been acting dean of the Missouri School of Journalism, was charged with being the leader of a “homosexual ring” based out of his home in the Frederick Apartments on University Avenue. Howard B. Lang Jr., the Boone County Prosecuting Attorney, began investigating suspected homosexuals in 1947. Lang told newspapers that “mad homosexual parties'' had taken place at Johnston’s apartment. E.K. Johnston was fired before the trial, found guilty, and moved to Kansas City. Howard B. Lang Jr. was elected Mayor of Columbia in 1953, became president of MFA Insurance Companies (now Shelter Insurance Companies), and had a long and very well-respected volunteer career of public service.

In the early 1900s Columbia had a reputation as a safe haven for gay men, aware of this, MU administrators, under intense pressure from the state legislature’s reaction to Howard Lang’s investigation, expelled and fired those suspected to be homosexual. So began a decades-long purge of suspected homosexuals from the University of Missouri that resulted in the documented suicides and homicides of some expelled students.

Frederick Apartments, listed on the National Register of Historic Places

Taken by Matt Fetterly on January 6, 2023

Lillian Faderman, widely recognized as “the mother of lesbian history,” chose the story of E.K. Johnston and Howard B. Lang to prologue her 2015 book The Gay Revolution: The Story of the Struggle. In a review for the Lambda Literary Foundation, journalist Victoria A. Brownworth said the work is, “unquestionably, a landmark book and will likely be the template by which subsequent scholarship on our collective lesbian and gay history will be judged.” The Washington Post said, “This is the history of the gay and lesbian movement that we’ve been waiting for.” Faderman begins the book with a story set in Columbia, but largely unknown to its residents:

“On the morning of May 26, 1948, Professor E. K. Johnston was standing at the rostrum in a University of Missouri auditorium. The annual awards ceremony for the School of Journalism was in full swing. Best columnist, best sports writer, best feature writer-each award winner was called up to the stage, where Professor Johnston shook his hand and said kind and appropriate words as he bestowed a trophy of recognition. The professor had been on the University of Missouri faculty since 1924 and was now fifty years old, a man distinguished and comfortable in middle age, dressed formally in a light summer suit, spectacles balanced low on the bridge of his nose.

Professor Johnston had taken a place of honor on that stage because that academic year he'd served as acting dean of the School of Journalism. The elderly permanent dean, Frank Mott, had been on leave, and Professor Johnston was an apt choice as his temporary replacement: E. K. Johnston was a full professor, he was much loved and respected by students and colleagues alike, and he had a national reputation as a multi-term president of a professional fraternity for those working in the relatively new discipline of the science of newspaper advertising. Indeed, it was assumed by many at the University of Missouri that when the present dean retired, Professor Johnston would be named his permanent successor.

But as Professor Johnston was fulfilling his academic duties by shaking hands and wishing the aspiring young journalists continued success, he knew there was a warrant out for his arrest, issued by the county prosecutor. He suspected too that the charge against him was the commission of sodomy. But for the moment, he wanted only to get through the awards ceremony- to fulfill his last duty of the academic year to the students in his charge-and he did. 

When the ceremony was over, Professor Johnston drove himself downtown, walked into the county prosecutor's office, and gave himself up. At his arraignment, he pleaded innocent. Thrown into the Boone County jail until he could raise bail, he spent two days behind bars. 

The county prosecutor, Howard Lang, had started the investigation six months earlier. There'd been a robbery, and a man was apprehended and brought in for questioning. It was he, Prosecutor Lang told the newspapers, who talked about a "homosexual ring" there in Columbia, Missouri, that carried on sex orgies. As happened often during police interrogations of homosexuals in the mid-twentieth century, police detectives grilled the robber until he named names. One of the names was Willie Coots, a thirty-nine-year-old gift shop employee. Coots was then brought in and was made to name more names. Each man that Willie Coots named was dragged in for questioning and grilled. A police department secretary took down in shorthand what each arrestee said, and she compiled a list of thirty names.

Of all the men Coots named, the most interesting to the Columbia police, because of his prominence, was Professor E. K. Johnston. Coots confessed that he and the professor had lived together for ten years as lovers and for the last six years as friends. The police wanted more facts. Had he and Johnston held homosexual parties in their shared apartment? Yes, they had. More names; other homosexuals who'd had illegal congress with Johnston. Yes, he did remember some: just a few days earlier, there was a man named Warren Heathman. Heathman was a thirty-five-year-old World War II veteran who had fought overseas; he'd earned a master's degree in agriculture from the University of Missouri and was now an instructor for the Veterans Administration's farm training program.

Heathman could not be found at his home address, so the Columbia police sent out an all-points bulletin for his arrest. He was picked up by state highway patrolmen in Rolla, Missouri, about two hours away, and locked up overnight in Jefferson City's Cole County Jail. In the morning, patrolmen shackled him and drove him to the jail in Columbia, and he too was grilled. This was serious business, they told him. Perjury is a felony for which he could be incarcerated for five years. Willie Coots had mentioned a big fish: a professor at the university. Did Heathman know E. K. Johnston? When had he last seen him? Where? Heathman, disoriented and scared, did not take long to answer every question they threw at him. Yes, he and Johnston engaged in homosexual activities. Yes, on an average of every other week. Yes, usually in Johnston's apartment. Yes, he'd been to homosexual parties not only in that same apartment but also at a cabin near Salem, Missouri. ("Mad parties of a homosexual cabal," the newspapers would report.) Just as Willie Coots had done, Heathman signed a statement implicating Johnston as the leader of the "homosexual ring."

Heathman and Coots both waived their preliminary hearings; they did not want to drag out their ordeal. Because neither one was the supposed kingpin of the "homosexual ring," their bail was set at $2,500 apiece, $1,000 lower than Johnston's. The professor, however, was not as easily intimidated. He had gone himself to the police station and demanded to know why there was a warrant out for his arrest. When police detectives took him into a room to interrogate him, he knew his rights. He would say nothing to his inquisitors except, "I want to talk to my lawyer." He was permitted to call his attorney, Edwin Orr, who advised him not to sign any statement and not to waive his preliminary hearing.

From the Boone County Jail, he contacted his half-brother in Kansas City, and a friend in Sedalia, Missouri, and borrowed money for the $3,500 bond. In their coverage of the story, local newspapers were sure to name both Howard Johnston, the brother, and Fred Hildebrandt, the friend, shaming them for having aided and abetted a homosexual.

Family newspapers within a thousand-mile radius of Columbia all seemed to pick up the story, which was covered by the wire services of the Associated Press as well as the United Press International. The local papers embellished their articles with sensational headlines. "Missouri Professor Held for Sodomy: Termed Principal in Homosexual Ring" was the Pottstown (PA) Mercury headline. The headline in Arkansas's Hope Star was simply "Homosexual," which was shocking enough all by itself in 1948.

It was not until his temporary release from jail that Johnston learned that he'd been found guilty even before he was tried. "In view of the nature and gravity of the charges that have been made against Professor E. K. Johnston," the president of the university, Frederick Middlebush, told reporters, "he has been relieved of his duties as a member of the university." Hysteria spread. The superintendent of the State Highway Patrol, Colonel Hugh Waggoner, announced not only to the university's board of curators but also to the media that Johnston was only the tip of the iceberg. 

The board of curators panicked. Allen McReynolds, its president, immediately called a press conference to promise the public, "The board will take such action as it deems necessary to protect the interests of the university." McReynolds added defensively that homosexuals were "a public problem and one that ought to be solved." Missouri Governor Phil Donnelly weighed in, assuring Missourians that he had ordered the president of the board of curators to confer with State Highway Patrol officials about the homosexuals they'd discovered and to make sure such people had no place on the university's faculty or among the student body.

On November 17 Johnston stood before Judge W. M. Dinwiddie of the Boone County Circuit Court. Johnston's lawyer, Edwin Orr, had advised him that the prosecutor held in his hands multiple signed statements. He must throw himself at the mercy of the court. Johnston must have struggled to resign himself to this: How could he relinquish into perpetuity the image of the man he once was? How could he claim as his the character of a criminal? Orr promised that he would call witnesses who would talk about Johnston's good character and plead for clemency. The witnesses would tell the judge there was no point in sending a man like Johnston to jail. The ex-professor was by now emotionally and physically exhausted. He'd lost his job, his good name, his beloved students, his entire career -even his pension. He was fifty years old. What would he live on for the rest of his life? He had no more fight left in him. And if he did not confess to the world of being guilty of sodomy and then throw himself at Judge Dinwiddie's mercy, he would be locked in jail for who knew how many years to come.

Johnston pleaded guilty and did not open his mouth again for the rest of the trial. The principal witness for the defense was Dr. Edward Gildea, head of the Department of Psychiatry at Washington University in Saint Louis. Asked whether E. K. Johnston would be a menace to society if he were placed on probation, the psychiatrist said no, "though in my judgment he is a homosexual." He was followed by a long line of character witnesses. Each confirmed that Johnston had been widely respected and liked; that a penitentiary sentence would not help him nor serve society; that he could be turned free without detriment to society.

The pleas for clemency were not without effect. Judge Dinwiddie wouldn't send the defendant to jail, he announced. He'd put him on probation for four years. Johnston must have felt a surge of relief, even joy. But the judge was not through. Johnston was required to post a $2,000 bond. It was his obligation to pay all court costs. Judge Dinwiddie ordered him to report regularly to Wayne Ballard, the state probation officer. Finally, Judge Dinwiddie concluded, ‘Your order of probation includes your cessation of all homosexual practices.’”

Faderman’s description of this seminal event in Columbia and University history is accompanied by inline citations on pages 641 and 642. The purge of suspected homosexuals from the University of Missouri that followed in the wake of the described events lasted for about two decades. The leader and most energetic figure of the search was University Vice President Thomas A. Brady, who according to his son, viewed homosexuality as a “psychiatric problem.” Doctors at the Student Health Service signed a letter to Brady, agreeing to help him identify gay students. Records of exactly how many students and faculty were impacted, if they exist at all, are scarce because they are mostly in permanently sealed disciplinary files and obscure oral histories. In the 1995 the GLBT (Gay, Lesbian, Bisexual and Transgender) Historical Society in San Francisco published interviews with MU alumni documenting the purge, Phillip (a pseudonym) said:

"The university got rid of everyone, each student who had been involved had his transcripts stamped, 'This student will not be readmitted to the University of Missouri until he is cleared of charges regarding homosexual activities.' That's why one kid killed himself right away, and others killed themselves during the ensuing months. It was just tragic."

Thomas A. Brady, a very well-respected and dedicated faculty member, retired and died in 1964. He was the first MU faculty member to receive a Guggenheim Fellowship. To honor him, the Student Center was named Brady Commons until in 2006 students called attention to his role in the search for homosexuals and subsequent expulsions. After the building was remodeled and expanded, the Brady name was quietly dropped. Bob Callis, Brady’s replacement, wrote an internal memo in 1966 saying:

"The record does show rather clear evidence that several incidences of homicide and suicide were a direct outgrowth of the activities of homosexual rings in operation at that time," Callis wrote. "Damage to human life and welfare of less serious proportion than suicide and homicide is also evident from the record."

Former mayor and Boone County Prosecutor Howard Burton Lang Jr. died in 2007 and is buried in Columbia. In his obituary, Leo Hill, Columbia city manager from 1952 to 1958, said, “I have complete confidence that Howard Lang was the very best public servant ever to serve the Columbia community.” The city awards the annual Howard B. Lang, Jr. Award for Outstanding Volunteer Service to the City of Columbia. After living the rest of his life in Kansas City, Professor E.K. Johnston died in 1990 in relative obscurity and is buried in his hometown of Sedalia. Little is known of his life after Columbia. Both men lived into their 90s and were University of Missouri alumni.

Burial site of Howard B. Lang Jr.

Memorial Park Cemetery, Columbia

Taken by Matt Fetterly on January 6, 2023

Burial site of Emery Kennedy Johnston

Crown Hill Cemetery, Sedalia

Taken by Matt Fetterly on January 6, 2023

The Frederick Apartments

The Frederick Apartment Building at 1001 University Avenue was listed on the National Register of Historic Places in 2013 because of its outstanding historic architecture. A Classical Revival style building, it was designed by the architect David Frederick Wallace, the brother-in-law of Harry S Truman. It was built by F.W. Niedermeyer in 1928 and named after his son Frederick Niedermeyer Jr. , a WWI pilot, who died in a 1925 plane crash. “Pilot’s Wings” are located prominently above the main entrance. The building has always functioned as apartments and, after its National Register listing, was restored and updated. It houses mostly students and faculty, much as it always has.

Inspired by restoration successes like the Frederick Apartments, our group, CoMo Preservation, hopes to help homeowners, landlords, and institutions prevent the demolition of historic architecture. Original period styles might be replicated, but will forever lack the social history of authentic structures. The preservation of historic buildings is necessary for Columbia’s residents, students, and visitors to achieve a sense of place and, it follows, for our city’s continued economic success.

Sources

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Matt Fetterly

Matt was born in Columbia, Missouri and is an 8th generation Boone Countian. He is an alumni of Hickman High School and the University of Missouri. Since 2011 he has worked for Shakespeares Pizza, as a truck driver and distribution manager, visiting and selling locally produced frozen pizza in all 115 Missouri counties, as well as Kansas, Illinois, and Nebraska. He is also a professional percussionist, working at the Arrow Rock Lyceum Theatre since 2012, and has performed with the Maples Repertory Theatre, Central Methodist Theater, University of Missouri Theater, Columbia Entertainment Company, Talking Horse Productions, Maplewood Barn Theater, Columbia Community Band, Columbia Jazz Orchestra, Columbia Civic Orchestra, Columbia Chorale, The Tipper Gores, Columbia Handbell Ensemble, and the 9th Street Philharmonic. A lifelong love of Columbia inspired him to preserve a growing collection of over 170 books about Columbia and Boone County. A related project is preserving and cataloguing books and ephemera manufactured by the E.W. Stephens Publishing Company, once Columbia’s largest business. He specializes in local natural history, black history, indigenous history, lgbtq+ history, and cultural history more generally (particularly architecture, music, art, theater, and cemeteries). When not playing music or writing about local history, he enjoys hiking, caving, camping, and floating, in the forest and prairies of Mid-Missouri.

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