The Un-Natural State: Arkansas and the Queer South

SIXTEEN. And Then She Came

SIXTEEN And Then She Came D espite how AIDS had changed the landscape of Eureka Springs, gay and lesbian tourists, many unaware of what had happened there, still flocked to the mountain town for weekend getaways. Queer tourists wanted desperately to take advantage of what People magazine dubbed “the gay capital of the Ozarks.”1 Even for those gays and lesbians who were not tourists, gay spaces, though only operating for one night out of the month, gave them a stable sense of community from which to operate. A town government friendlier toward the growing gay and lesbian population and greater favor with the locals gave the town a welcoming feel despite Smith’s evangelical enterprises along the highway. The mountains, any mountains, had long been regarded as a place of seclusion, an environment that afforded opportunities to hide out, lie low. Clearly such spaces had the ability to attract those from both sides of the social spectrum. And then, in 1991, she came. Anita Bryant had long personified homophobia and intolerance for many Americans, gay and straight alike. Since she fell out of favor with her fans and lost her orange juice spokeswoman deal following her “Save Our Children” campaign , Bryant had become somewhat of a national joke, a symbol of the kind of ignorance and backwardness that many business owners in Eureka Springs, in an effort now to attract upscale tourists, were trying desperately to abandon. Gays and lesbians saw her arrival as a slap in the face to them and the community they had built. Bryant arrived in May of 1991 and received significant financial backing from the Gerald L. K. Smith Foundation. The foundation, attempting to turn the tide of gay and lesbian tourism, chose not to place Bryant’s show safely along the uptown highway and close to Smith’s New Holy Land but squarely downtown in the Fore Runners Hotel’s Grand Duchess Ballroom, not 177 a hundred yards from the New Orleans Hotel and the Quarter bar. The marquee outside the hotel read simply, “Anita Bryant: America’s Sweetheart.”2 For a home, Bryant and her husband, through a large amount of borrowed funds from local investors, bought a fifty-nine-acre farm in nearby and more rural Berryville, thinking that even tiny Eureka Springs had too many “big city temptations” in which to raise a Christian family.3 Plus, they were both “country bodies,” a reason that made Berryville most attractive to them. As to the success of the show, Bryant was optimistic. For her, despite the gay and lesbian population growing in both size and visibility, her old, loyal fan base would surely show and tickets would sell. Bryant did have a reason to believe. Almost a quarter of Eureka Spring’s 1.2 million yearly tourists were from her native Oklahoma. Also, of those tourists almost 30 percent were between the ages of fifty-five and sixtyfive , Bryant’s key demographic, the same demographic that the passion play depended on to sell seats. Despite the promising numbers, Bryant was still weary. She and her new husband, former astronaut Charlie Dry, were well aware of the town’s growing reputation as a queer tourist destination. She told reporters of her fears that members of the local gay and lesbian community , mocking her past status as a national orange-juice huckster, would show up to “orange her” as she entered the theater. To Bryant’s relief, protesters never showed, having opted to ignore her and her operation. Ken Scully planned a new route to and from work so that he would not have to drive past her theater. To Bryant’s embarrassment and disappointment, everyoneelseseemedtobeignoringheraswell.Ticketssalesnevermaterialized as the older, more conservative tourists from nearby Oklahoma and Missouri never showed. Her production did not last the year before she packed up and moved to Eureka Springs’s main competitor, Branson, Missouri. Bryant and her husband left behind debts totaling almost two million dollars. To the passion play and the Smith Foundation, Bryant owed almost $200,000 in borrowed funds. The foundation took the couple to court but was only able to secure a small portion of the money owed from the now bankrupt couple.4 It was a tremendous blow to The Great Passion Play and the Smith Foundation that had been declining for some timeand thatexpected Bryant’sshow toincreasetheirsalesfromcrossover tourists. 178 AND THEN SHE CAME Despite the Foundation’s best...