Fifty years ago this month, one of the biggest movie stars who ever called central Virginia home died. He was a huge box office draw in his prime, starred in dozens of films, and gained even more success after retiring from the movies as an interior designer to the rich and famous.

Even so, the obituary for William “Billy” Haines in the Dec. 27, 1973 edition of the Richmond Times-Dispatch is tucked away on page 17 and is less than a dozen sentences long. One could argue that, as primarily a silent film star, Haines didn’t warrant any extended hoopla at his passing.

It’s more likely that, at the time, a measure of discomfort came with acknowledging Billy Haines as a former native. Some people preferred that the actor be forgotten completely.

William J. Mann’s 1998 biography, “Wisecracker,” calls Haines “Hollywood’s first openly gay star.” That designation is a misunderstanding of the dynamics of Hollywood in the 1920s, says historian Sergei Troubetzkoy. “It was a very different time,” he says. “Haines never hid his sexuality but he never broadcasted it either.”

Haines was born in Staunton, Virginia, in 1900, the first son of a prominent cigar maker. He ran away from home at the age of 14, landing in Hopewell. Thanks to the new Dupont factory, the city was a boomtown in the 1910s and also a den of iniquity. Haines opened a dance hall that catered to a gay clientele but, after it burned down with much of the rest of the city in 1915, he relocated to New York.

When the family business failed, his parents moved to Richmond in 1917 and Haines came back to help support them. But he remained restless, returning to New York in 1919. His handsome looks prompted an entry into the “New Faces of 1922” contest held by Goldwyn Pictures (a precursor to MGM). When he won, he was off to Hollywood where, after several years of bit parts, he emerged as a major star with the movie “Brown of Harvard” in 1926.

Haines was one of the rare silent screen stars to transition to “talkies” successfully, starring in MGM’s first partially talking film, 1928’s “Alias Jimmy Valentine.” By 1929, Haines was the second biggest male box office draw in the country, moving to the top of the list in 1930.

Troubetzkoy, who chronicled much of the actor’s life while working as director of tourism in Staunton, has assembled arguably the most extensive collection of Haines movie memorabilia in the world. “People don’t realize how famous he was internationally,” says the historian. “I’ve found items featuring Haines from all over Europe: Poland, Sweden, Denmark and more.”

Even if he wasn’t technically “out,” Haines earned an abiding respect in the gay community for staying with his partner, Jimmie Shields, in defiance of the standard practice of gay movie stars coupling up with someone from the opposite-sex to act as a “beard.” He bought a house in Hollywood with Shields in 1927, welcoming local glitterati to elegant parties.

But during the Depression, an increasingly conservative Hollywood was falling under the sway of the Hays Production Code. Skittish self-censorship became the norm among producers, pressuring many gay actors to hide their so-called “perverse” lifestyle. Haines refused.

The 2001 American Movie Classics documentary, titled “Out of the Closet, Off the Screen,” recounts the fight in 1933 between Haines and movie kingpin, Louis B. Mayer, that led to Haines being fired from MGM. Mayer issued an ultimatum that Haines needed to send Jimmie away and marry a woman. The specifics are probably apocryphal, but Haines reportedly told him he would do so if Mayer would send his wife away, too.

Though Haines’s star was starting to fade by this point, the courage to defy such a powerful figure resonates years later. “It was a brave decision [Haines] made at the time,” says Phil Crosby, executive director of Richmond Triangle Players, a leader in producing LGBTQ+ stories for the stage. “His choice was one that actors still sometimes feel they have to face a century later.” Haines remained with Shields until his death.

What prevented Haines’s story from devolving into tragedy was a second career that in many ways surpassed his first. The stylish design of his own home prompted prominent friends like Joan Crawford to ask Haines’s help in appointing their mansions. He quickly gained a reputation as the interior designer of the stars, working for clients like Jack Benny, George Burns and Gracie Allen, and Frank Sinatra.

His work continues to have influence today: an exhibition currently running at the sumptuous Sunnylands estate in southern California owned by the Annenbergs spotlights the more than 450 pieces Haines designed and installed for the 25,000-square-foot home.

Though Richmond disavowed Haines in later years, he maintained fond memories of his formative years in Virginia and came back to visit many times. He certainly took care of the family he ran away from, first buying his mother a house on Bellevue Avenue, then helping most of his family members relocate to Los Angeles. His brother George became his personal secretary.

It’s been 95 years since the Haines starring vehicle “West Point” became the first film shown at the Loew’s theater in 1928. The historic theater would later be restored as the Carpenter Theater, now the cornerstone of the Dominion Energy Center. Promotional material at the time touted Haines as “Richmond’s own and only movie star.”

Locals may not remember him and some of his biggest successes are hard to find. But Haines’s legacy remains. He represents a willingness to maintain personal integrity even when cultural norms turn regressive, a trait that makes him worthy of more prominent recognition today.

“He rose to the top in two different careers that he had no formal training in,” says Toubetzkoy. “He got knocked down, got back up and reinvented himself. You’ve got to admire that.”

“And he never lost touch with his Virginia roots.”