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It all started so well. At a time when lesbians and gay men reported suffering from workplace discrimination, street harassment, and frequent arrests, the center acted as an oasis for people to gather, socialize, and express themselves. The center also provided office space for gay organizations—bookshops, coffee shops, theater groups—enabling them to grow and prosper.

But six years after its launch, it closed in a torrent of political infighting and mounting financial losses, the clues of which are still found today in the Hall-Carpenter Archives at the London School of Economics. The center was run by total amateurs chosen for their political categories or beliefs, and not for being able to run a successful social or commercial undertaking; they were at best incredibly naive.

Skin in the Game

I joined probably a year or so after the Centre opened. In the face of huge opposition, the people who fought to get the Centre opened did an incredible job. It was a great service to the community, particularly for people in their teens; it was their home, a safe place. There was an idea that the center was ahead of its time, and that if it had opened a little later it might london lasted longer and been more successful.

Our sick pay was unending, we had really good holiday allowance; so for the staff it was a very good place to work. The volunteer program was a great way to integrate yourself into a community. The center gave you the confidence to be who you wanted to be. It was a place that many people needed in their lives, with all kinds of activities and support services.

Everything was under one roof, there was parking, it was by the Tube, you could go on your own and skinhead safe. The way the building was structured meant that if you did go for a group meeting, you could stay and have coffee afterwards. It was fantastic. The other really important aspect was the enduring friendships that were made by people who met there.

But there was a club of a lot of disrespect. In the very beginning, the management committee completely fucked up by employing a white workforce. Everyone who worked there apart from me was college educated which also misrepresented the community. That sent off a chain reaction—who was the place for? It was a place of the time, and its demise was too soon.

With smart management, it would have been self-sustainable. The benefit to the community was forever lost. My main memory of the center was a space free of the trappings of the commercial scene. I personally found it easier to be myself in there. It was nice to have a space where you could be with other queer people without any of those expectations.

Gay strengths and weaknesses of the center stemmed from the same things—its novelty. No one had really given any thought on how those differences might be managed because no one had anticipated them in the first place.