Arts & Entertainment
Henry Gerber: Ahead of his time
Celebrating LGBT History Month
Henry Gerber started a gay rights group in Chicago in 1924.
By ST. SUKIE DE LA CROIX
WINDY CITY TIMES
On May 15, 1871, the German Criminal Code was revised to include Paragraph 175, a law making sexual acts between males illegal. The first challenge to the law came in 1897 when Dr. Magnus Hirschfeld founded the gay organization Wissenschaftlich-humanitäres Komitee (Scientific-Humanitarian Committee). Its first action was to draft a petition against Paragraph 175 with 6,000 signatures of prominent people in the arts, politics and the medical profession; it failed to have any effect.
One American inspired by the work of Hirschfeld was Henry Gerber, who in 1924 was granted an official charter by the state of Illinois for the Society for Human Rights, the first gay-rights organization in the United States, which he ran from his home on Crilly Court in Chicago.
Gerber was born Josef Henry Dittmar on June 29, 1892, in Passau, Bavaria, Germany. On Oct. 27, 1913, Gerber (still called Dittmar at the time) arrived at New York’s Ellis Island on the SS George Washington and then traveled west to Chicago, where he worked briefly for Montgomery Ward’s mail-order house. His first known address in the United States was 507 Stone St., Joliet, Ill., from where he enlisted in the Army on Jan. 26, 1914. In his military documents, he described himself as 5-foot-7 and one-half, 180 pounds, with blue eyes and brown hair. He changed his name to Gerber afterward — though he was still using the name Joseph Henry Dittmar on his June 5, 1917, draft registration card, which described him as 5-foot-8, slender, with blue eyes and blond hair. On it, he mentioned prior military service but now claimed exemption on grounds of conscientious objection to war.
On April 6, 1917, the United States declared war on Germany, and the newspapers became filled with lurid tales of German spies. As a result, the United States opened internment camps; 50,000 unnaturalized aliens of German birth were now “alien enemies,” and 8,000 were detained using presidential arrest warrants. Gerber was “offered internment,” which he accepted, as it guaranteed three meals a day. After the war, he re-enlisted in the Army on Oct. 2, 1919, at Jefferson Barracks, near Lemay, Mo., a training and recruitment center for soldiers being sent to fight in Europe, or, in Gerber’s case, to join a regiment of the American Forces in Germany, where he was part of a company engaged in publishing the daily AMAROC News for troops.
It was while serving in Koblenz that Gerber found Hirschfeld’s Scientific-Humanitarian Committee. He wrote later: “In Coblenz on the Rhine, I had subscribed to German homophile magazines and made several trips to Berlin, which was then not occupied by American forces. I had always bitterly felt the injustice with which my own American society accused the homosexual of ‘immoral acts.’
“What could be done about it, I thought. Unlike Germany, where the homosexual was partially organized and where sex legislation was uniform for the whole country, the United States was in a condition of chaos and misunderstanding concerning its sex laws, and no one was trying to unravel the tangle and bring relief to the abused.”
Gerber returned to Chicago, took up residence at 1710 N. Crilly Ct. and began work for the Post Office Department. In the spring of 1924, he formed SHR with a handful of friends. Gerber’s strategy was to network and gain support from other “sex reform” leaders, including Margaret Sanger, the American birth-control advocate, but nobody seemed interested. Undeterred, he decided to go it alone. Through a lawyer, SHR applied for and received a charter from the state of Illinois on Dec. 10, 1924. It is thought the group never had more than 10 members. Gerber elected himself secretary; president was the Rev. John T. Graves, “a preacher who preached brotherly love to small groups of Negroes”; vice president was Al Meininger, an “indigent laundry queen”; and treasurer was Ralph Ellsworth Booher, whose job with a railroad was threatened when his homosexuality became known. Throughout the rest of his life, Gerber lamented that SHR failed to attract “men of good reputation.” In Germany, the homophile movement included enlightened politicians, doctors and scientists, as well as those in the arts, but in the United States nobody was willing to stick a neck out for homosexuals.
Gerber produced two issues of the SHR newsletter Friendship and Freedom, of which no known copies exist, although in “Paris Gay 1925” (1981), a French book co-written by Gilles Barbedette and Michel Carassou, is reprinted a review of Friendship and Freedom, written by Clarens and published in the magazine L’amitié in 1925. (See this author’s “Chicago Whispers: A History of LGBT Chicago Before Stonewall” for translation.)
The SHR was short-lived. In July 1925, the group was raided and the headline in the Chicago Examiner read “Strange Sex Cult Exposed.” Even though the case was thrown out of court, Gerber was suspended from the post office.
After the demise of SHR, Gerber became despondent about homosexuals. He later wrote, “I have absolutely no confidence in the Dorian crowd, mostly a bunch of selfish, uncultured, ignorant egoists who have nothing for the ideal side of life.” Gerber re-enlisted in the Army, serving another 17 years; in 1945, he retired with an honorable discharge and a $100-a-month pension. As late as 1942, his primary World War II draft registration was still under the name Joseph H. Dittmar, though the records also contain a cross-reference from the name Henry Gerber; by then, “Gerber” appears to have been how he was known to the military.
Gerber spent his twilight years in the U.S. Soldiers’ and Airmen’s Home in Washington, D.C., where he died from pneumonia on Dec. 31, 1972, age 80.
Gerber was posthumously inducted into the Chicago Gay and Lesbian Hall of Fame in 1992 and the Henry Gerber House, located at 1710 N. Crilly Ct., was designated a Chicago Landmark on June 1, 2001.
The above article is an abbreviated version of the chapter “Henry Gerber and the German Sex Reformers” in St. Sukie de la Croix’s book “Chicago Whispers: A History of LGBT Chicago Before Stonewall,” published in 2012 by the University of Wisconsin Press.
Photos
PHOTOS: Cheers to Out Sports!
LGBTQ homeless youth services organization honors local leagues
The Wanda Alston Foundation held a “Cheers to Out Sports!” event at the DC LGBTQ+ Community Center on Monday, Nov. 17. The event was held by the LGBTQ homeless youth services organization to honor local LGBTQ sports leagues for their philanthropic support.
(Washington Blade photos by Michael Key)
Theater
Gay, straight men bond over finances, single fatherhood in Mosaic show
‘A Case for the Existence of God’ set in rural Idaho
‘A Case for the Existence of God’
Through Dec. 7
Mosaic Theater Company at Atlas Performing Arts Center
1333 H St,, N.E.
Tickets: $42- $56 (discounts available)
Mosaictheater.org
With each new work, Samuel D. Hunter has become more interested in “big ideas thriving in small containers.” Increasingly, he likes to write plays with very few characters and simple sets.
His 2022 two-person play, “A Case for the Existence of God,” (now running at Mosaic Theater Company) is one of these minimal pieces. “Audiences might come in expecting a theological debate set in the Vatican, but instead it’s two guys sitting in a cubicle discussing terms on a bank loan,” says Hunter (who goes by Sam).
Like many of his plays, this award-winning work unfolds in rural Idaho, where Hunter was raised. Two men, one gay, the other straight (here played by local out actors Jaysen Wright and Lee Osorio, respectively), bond over financial insecurity and the joys and challenges of single fatherhood.
His newest success is similarly reduced. Touted as Hunter’s long-awaited Broadway debut, “Little Bear Ridge Road” features Laurie Metcalf as Sarah and Micah Stock as Ethan, Sarah’s estranged gay nephew who returns to Idaho from Seattle to settle his late father’s estate. At 90 minutes, the play’s cast is small and the setting consists only of a reclining couch in a dark void.
“I was very content to be making theater off-Broadway. It’s where most of my favorite plays live.” However, Hunter, 44, does admit to feeling validated: “Over the years there’s been this notion that my plays are too small or too Idaho for Broadway. I feel that’s misguided, so now with my play at the Booth Theatre, my favorite Broadway house, it kind of proves that.”
With “smaller” plays not necessarily the rage on Broadway, he’s pleased that he made it there without compromising the kind of plays he likes to write.
Hunter first spoke with The Blade in 2011 when his “A Bright Day in Boise” made its area premiere at Woolly Mammoth Theatre. At the time, he was still described as an up-and-coming playwright though he’d already nabbed an Obie for this dark comedy about seeking Rapture in an Idaho Hobby Lobby.
In 2015, his “The Whale,” played at Rep Stage starring out actor Michael Russotto as Charlie, a morbidly obese gay English teacher struggling with depression. Hunter wrote the screenplay for the subsequent 2022 film which garnered an Oscar for actor Brendan Frazier.
The year leading up to the Academy Awards ceremony was filled with travel, press, and festivals. It was a heady time. Because of the success of the film there are a lot of non-English language productions of “The Whale” taking place all over the world.
“I don’t see them all,” says Hunter. “When I was invited to Rio de Janeiro to see the Portuguese language premiere, I went. That wasn’t a hard thing to say yes to.”
And then, in the middle of the film hoopla, says Hunter, director Joe Mantello and Laurie (Metcalf) approached him about writing a play for them to do at Steppenwolf Theatre in Chicago before it moved to Broadway. He’d never met either of them, and they gave me carte blanche.
Early in his career, Hunter didn’t write gay characters, but after meeting his husband in grad school at the University of Iowa that changed, he began to explore that part of his life in his plays, including splashes of himself in his queer characters without making it autobiographical.
He says, “Whether it’s myself or other people, I’ve never wholesale lifted a character or story from real life and plopped it in a play. I need to breathing room to figure out characters on their own terms. It wouldn’t be fair to ask an actor to play me.”
His queer characters made his plays more artistically successful, adds Hunter. “I started putting something of myself on the line. For whatever reason, and it was probably internalized homophobia, I had been holding back.”
Though his work is personal, once he hands it over for production, it quickly becomes collaborative, which is the reason he prefers plays compared to other forms of writing.
“There’s a certain amount of detachment. I become just another member of the team that’s servicing the story. There’s a joy in that.”
Hunter is married to influential dramaturg John Baker. They live in New York City with their little girl, and two dogs. As a dad, Hunter believes despite what’s happening in the world, it’s your job to be hopeful.
“Hope is the harder choice to make. I do it not only for my daughter but because cynicism masquerades as intelligence which I find lazy. Having hope is the better way to live.”
Books
New book highlights long history of LGBTQ oppression
‘Queer Enlightenments’ a reminder that inequality is nothing new
‘Queer Enlightenments: A Hidden History of Lovers, Lawbreakers, and Homemakers’
By Anthony Delaney
c.2025, Atlantic Monthly Press
$30/352 pages
It had to start somewhere.
The discrimination, the persecution, the inequality, it had a launching point. Can you put your finger on that date? Was it DADT, the 1950s scare, the Kinsey report? Certainly not Stonewall, or the Marriage Act, so where did it come from? In “Queer Enlightenments: A Hidden History of Lovers, Lawbreakers, and Homemakers” by Anthony Delaney, the story of queer oppression goes back so much farther.
The first recorded instance of the word “homosexual” arrived loudly in the spring of 1868: Hungarian journalist Károly Mária Kerthbeny wrote a letter to German activist Karl Heinrich Ulrichs referring to “same-sex-attracted men” with that new term. Many people believe that this was the “invention” of homosexuality, but Delaney begs to differ.
“Queer histories run much deeper than this…” he says.
Take, for instance, the delightfully named Mrs. Clap, who ran a “House” in London in which men often met other men for “marriage.” On a February night in 1726, Mrs. Clap’s House was raided and 40 men were taken to jail, where they were put in filthy, dank confines until the courts could get to them. One of the men was ultimately hanged for the crime of sodomy. Mrs. Clap was pilloried, and then disappeared from history.
William Pulteney had a duel with John, Lord Hervey, over insults flung at the latter man. The truth: Hervey was, in fact, openly a “sodomite.” He and his companion, Ste Fox had even set up a home together.
Adopting your lover was common in 18th century London, in order to make him a legal heir. In about 1769, rumors spread that the lovely female spy, the Chevalier d’Éon, was actually Charles d’Éon de Beaumont, a man who had been dressing in feminine attire for much longer than his espionage career. Anne Lister’s masculine demeanor often left her an “outcast.” And as George Wilson brought his bride to North American in 1821, he confessed to loving men, thus becoming North America’s first official “female husband.”
Sometimes, history can be quite dry. So can author Anthony Delaney’s wit. Together, though, they work well inside “Queer Enlightenments.”
Undoubtedly, you well know that inequality and persecution aren’t new things – which Delaney underscores here – and queer ancestors faced them head-on, just as people do today. The twist, in this often-chilling narrative, is that punishments levied on 18th- and 19th-century queer folk was harsher and Delaney doesn’t soften those accounts for readers. Read this book, and you’re platform-side at a hanging, in jail with an ally, at a duel with a complicated basis, embedded in a King’s court, and on a ship with a man whose new wife generously ignored his secret. Most of these tales are set in Great Britain and Europe, but North America features some, and Delaney wraps up thing nicely for today’s relevance.
While there’s some amusing side-eyeing in this book, “Queer Enlightenments” is a bit on the heavy side, so give yourself time with it. Pick it up, though, and you’ll love it til the end.
The Blade may receive commissions from qualifying purchases made via this post.
Repealing marriage amendment among Va. House Democrats’ 2026 legislative priorities
213 House members ask Speaker Johnson to condemn anti-trans rhetoric
D.C. LGBTQ bars ‘hanging in there’ amid tough economy
Japan’s first female prime minister reluctant to advance LGBTQ rights
Rep. Grijalva reiterates LGBTQ support at swearing in
PHOTOS: Whitman-Walker Gala
Activist hosts Diwali celebration in D.C.
Calendar: November 14-20
Harford school board appeals state’s book ban decision to circuit court
