Halloween Horror: The Candlestick Murder
On Halloween night of 1958, Jack Dobbins was murdered.
That in itself is certainly enough of a horror story, but the trial that followed and what it revealed about social norms also have terrifying implications of what people are willing to overlook when a crime is committed against a member of society deemed “abnormal.”
In the 1950s, it could be very dangerous to be visibly gay. Between strong “traditional” cultural pressures and rising fears of communism - which apparently included folks inclined toward same-sex relationships - being seen at a gay bar or other social gathering specifically created for LGBTQ+ people could attract unwanted attention. So the Charleston community got creative, and bars that did cater to same-sex couples offered spaces for both gay and straight couples to offer plausible deniability and a level of cover for their LGBTQ+ patrons.
It was at Club 49, one of these such bars, that Jack Dobbins met John Mahon.
Dobbins was a 29-year-old chemical company executive who had moved to Charleston two years prior and rented 14 Queen Street with medical student Edward Otey. On Halloween night, the housemates had dinner together, attended a small party, and then went their separate ways for the evening as Dobbins went to Club 49, where he occasionally tended bar. That night he struck up a conversation with John Mahon, an 18-year-old airman stationed at Charleston Air Force Base. The two shared a few beers before Dobbins suggested that they leave for a finer establishment, but they were denied entry at nicer cocktail bars as Mahon’s casual clothing did not meet the dress code.
Dobbins invited Mahon to his home for more drinks and conversation. By the end of the night, he was dead.
The next morning, Elizabeth Bryant arrived to carry out her weekly job of cleaning the apartment. In the living room, she found the body of Jack Dobbins: nude and slumped on the couch, his face covered in blood from the blows to his head, cradling a heavy candlestick that was determined to be the murder weapon. His clothes were scattered in his room, and the living room table was strewn with cigarettes and two glasses of bourbon.
Mahon voluntarily surrendered to the police, and his trial garnered plenty of attention from a public seeking a scandalous court proceeding - which they received.
Initial questioning focused less on Mahon and more on Dobbins, particularly his character. Witnesses claimed they never saw female visitors - but that he had Citadel boys over from time to time - and much was made of the fact that Dobbins had lavender bedsheets while his housemate’s were yellow with stripes. Questioning eventually turned toward Mahon - why was he wearing what he did that night? His outfit of dungarees and leather jacket - deemed much too casual for Charleston’s cocktail bars - was said to be the clothing of choice for male prostitutes in the area, a fact which raised some eyebrows when it could not be satisfactorily explained during the trial. When Mahon had returned back to base the night of the murder, he had been found to be carrying a key, lighter, cash, and other personal effects that were later determined to have been taken from Dobbins.
Finally Mahon shared his story about that night: he and Dobbins shared a drink, and Dobbins put a hand on his shoulder and lap. Mahon claimed he needed to use the restroom, where he tried to think of an escape. When he returned to the living, he found Dobbins completely nude, and ran to the bedroom to find the candlestick. He claimed that he told Dobbins he wanted nothing to do “with that,” but that Dobbins grabbed him and he was defending himself. “I only thought I had knocked him out. I don’t think I could go through life with that on my conscience. I didn’t mean to kill Mr. Dobbins,” he claimed.
On December 11, the jury ruled John Mahon not guilty.
This trial was just one in a series that reinforced the social order of Charleston: traditional gender roles, thinly veiled white supremacy, and racial segregation. It also added sexuality to the list of concerns for those looking to maintain that order, and its thorough media coverage spread the message that non-conformity would not only not be tolerated, but violent reactions to such behavior would be excused, even celebrated. Charleston’s LGBTQ+ community was threatened into silence, as this and other events made it clear that it was extremely unsafe to be visibly gay in the city.
So, why do we share these stories? Why share LGBTQ+ history? Why not?
The LGBTQ+ community is more diverse, more expansive, more welcoming, and more involved in everyday life than a lot of folks seem to want to believe. Maybe you were raised in a home that taught that being LGBTQ+ was "wrong," or are wondering why we want to make "minority" history more mainstream. We've been accused of having "agendas," or told that supporting the LGBTQ+ community is "sinful," and it's been made clear - especially as we lose followers each time we post about the Real Rainbow Row tour or LGBTQ+ historical figures - that a portion of our audience just isn't interested. That people think that this aspect of history just....doesn't apply to them. And they don't care to learn more.
We're trying to change that. Every time we offer the Real Rainbow Row tour, we share stories of people who faced terror and abuse in their everyday lives, just for trying to live their truth. We also want to show that someone's gender identity or who they love is just a small part of who they are as a person: it can have a big impact on other areas of their lives, but we believe that reducing someone's personhood to one or two things about them is massively disrespectful - and fails to honor all the interesting things that they did with their lives, and how they contributed to shaping history in a city we all love.
These tours aim to showcase the humanity and similarities we all share, no matter our backgrounds, and show that we can all impact our communities. We focus on LGBTQ+ history in an effort to tell stories that are typically ignored or hidden, sharing historically excluded narratives in order to encourage a more complete - and therefore more human, diverse, interesting, and relatable - conception of history.
So, we need your support. Please join us for our Real Rainbow Row tours, and discover a rich side of history full of stories that for too long have been left untold. Share your experience with friends and family, post on social media, and help us get the word out. Each time we offer this tour, the proceeds go toward the research and preservation of LGBTQ+ history in Charleston through the SCLGBTQ Archive at the College of Charleston, and support the Charleston Pride program. Help us build a community that focuses on inclusion rather than exclusion, offers a voice to those historically silenced, and creates a safer, more tolerant future for all.
