It was June 27th, 1969.
The
day that the fags, dykes, and queens of New York City finally said
"Enough!" For some historical perspective, I'm once again posting the
story that the
New York Daily News
ran about the Stonewall Riots. Note how the story drips with
condescension and ridicule. We've come a long, long way in 43 years
and we've still got some distance to cover, but today we should all
offer up a shout, a snap, and a moment of thanks to the people who
started us down this road.
HOMO NEST RAIDED - QUEEN BEES ARE STINGING MAD-by Jerry Lisker, New York Daily News, July 6th 1969She
sat there with her legs crossed, the lashes of her mascara-coated
eyes beating like the wings of a hummingbird. She was angry. She was
so upset she hadn't bothered to shave. A day old stubble was beginning
to push through the pancake makeup. She was a he. A queen of
Christopher Street.
Last weekend the queens had turned
commandos and stood bra strap to bra strap against an invasion of the
helmeted Tactical Patrol Force. The elite police squad had shut down
one of their private gay clubs, the Stonewall Inn at 57 Christopher
St., in the heart of a three-block homosexual community in Greenwich
Village. Queen Power reared its bleached blonde head in revolt. New
York City experienced its first homosexual riot. "We may have lost the
battle, sweets, but the war is far from over," lisped an unofficial
lady-in-waiting from the court of the Queens.
"We've had all we
can take from the Gestapo," the spokesman, or spokeswoman, continued.
"We're putting our foot down once and for all." The foot wore a
spiked heel. According to reports, the Stonewall Inn, a two-story
structure with a sand painted brick and opaque glass facade, was a
mecca for the homosexual element in the village who wanted nothing but
a private little place where they could congregate, drink, dance and
do whatever little girls do when they get together.
The thick
glass shut out the outside world of the street. Inside, the Stonewall
bathed in wild, bright psychedelic lights, while the patrons writhed
to the sounds of a juke box on a square dance floor surrounded by
booths and tables. The bar did a good business and the waiters, or
waitresses, were always kept busy, as they snaked their way around the
dancing customers to the booths and tables. For nearly two years,
peace and tranquility reigned supreme for the Alice in Wonderland
clientele.
The Raid Last Friday
Last
Friday the privacy of the Stonewall was invaded by police from the
First Division. It was a raid. They had a warrant. After two years,
police said they had been informed that liquor was being served on the
premises. Since the Stonewall was without a license, the place was
being closed. It was the law.
All hell broke loose when the
police entered the Stonewall. The girls instinctively reached for each
other. Others stood frozen, locked in an embrace of fear.
Only a
handful of police were on hand for the initial landing in the
homosexual beachhead. They ushered the patrons out onto Christopher
Street, just off Sheridan Square. A crowd had formed in front of the
Stonewall and the customers were greeted with cheers of encouragement
from the gallery.
The whole proceeding took on the aura of a
homosexual Academy Awards Night. The Queens pranced out to the street
blowing kisses and waving to the crowd. A beauty of a specimen named
Stella wailed uncontrollably while being led to the sidewalk in front
of the Stonewall by a cop. She later confessed that she didn't protest
the manhandling by the officer, it was just that her hair was in
curlers and she was afraid her new beau might be in the crowd and spot
her. She didn't want him to see her this way, she wept.
Queen Power
The
crowd began to get out of hand, eye witnesses said. Then, without
warning, Queen Power exploded with all the fury of a gay atomic bomb.
Queens, princesses and ladies-in-waiting began hurling anything they
could get their polished, manicured fingernails on. Bobby pins,
compacts, curlers, lipstick tubes and other femme fatale missiles were
flying in the direction of the cops. The war was on. The lilies of the
valley had become carnivorous jungle plants.
Urged on by cries
of "C'mon girls, lets go get'em," the defenders of Stonewall launched
an attack. The cops called for assistance. To the rescue came the
Tactical Patrol Force.
Flushed with the excitement of battle, a
fellow called Gloria pranced around like Wonder Woman, while several
Florence Nightingales administered first aid to the fallen warriors.
There were some assorted scratches and bruises, but nothing serious was
suffered by the honeys turned Madwoman of Chaillot.
Official
reports listed four injured policemen with 13 arrests. The War of the
Roses lasted about 2 hours from about midnight to 2 a.m. There was a
return bout Wednesday night.
Two veterans recently recalled the
battle and issued a warning to the cops. "If they close up all the gay
joints in this area, there is going to be all out war."
Bruce and Nan
Both
said they were refugees from Indiana and had come to New York where
they could live together happily ever after. They were in their early
20's. They preferred to be called by their married names, Bruce and
Nan.
"I don't like your paper," Nan lisped matter-of-factly. "It's anti-fag and pro-cop."
"I'll
bet you didn't see what they did to the Stonewall. Did the pigs tell
you that they smashed everything in sight? Did you ask them why they
stole money out of the cash register and then smashed it with a sledge
hammer? Did you ask them why it took them two years to discover that
the Stonewall didn't have a liquor license."
Bruce nodded in agreement and reached over for Nan's trembling hands.
"Calm down, doll," he said. "Your face is getting all flushed."
Nan wiped her face with a tissue.
"This
would have to happen right before the wedding. The reception was
going to be held at the Stonewall, too," Nan said, tossing her
ashen-tinted hair over her shoulder.
"What wedding?," the bystander asked.
Nan
frowned with a how-could-anybody-be-so-stupid look. "Eric and Jack's
wedding, of course. They're finally tying the knot. I thought they'd
never get together."
Meet Shirley
"We'll
have to find another place, that's all there is to it," Bruce sighed.
"But every time we start a place, the cops break it up sooner or
later."
"They let us operate just as long as the payoff is
regular," Nan said bitterly. "I believe they closed up the Stonewall
because there was some trouble with the payoff to the cops. I think
that's the real reason. It's a shame. It was such a lovely place. We
never bothered anybody. Why couldn't they leave us alone?"
Shirley
Evans, a neighbor with two children, agrees that the Stonewall was
not a rowdy place and the persons who frequented the club were never
troublesome. She lives at 45 Christopher St.
"Up until the night
of the police raid there was never any trouble there," she said. "The
homosexuals minded their own business and never bothered a soul.
There were never any fights or hollering, or anything like that. They
just wanted to be left alone. I don't know what they did inside, but
that's their business. I was never in there myself. It was just awful
when the police came. It was like a swarm of hornets attacking a bunch
of butterflies."
A reporter visited the now closed Stonewall and it indeed looked like a cyclone had struck the premises.
Police
said there were over 200 people in the Stonewall when they entered
with a warrant. The crowd outside was estimated at 500 to 1,000.
According to police, the Stonewall had been under observation for some
time. Being a private club, plain clothesmen were refused entrance to
the inside when they periodically tried to check the place. "They had
the tightest security in the Village," a First Division officer said,
"We could never get near the place without a warrant."
Police Talk
The men of the First Division were unable to find any humor in the situation, despite the comical overtones of the raid.
"They
were throwing more than lace hankies," one inspector said. "I was
almost decapitated by a slab of thick glass. It was thrown like a
discus and just missed my throat by inches. The beer can didn't miss,
though, "it hit me right above the temple."
Police also believe
the club was operated by Mafia connected owners. The police did
confiscate the Stonewall's cash register as proceeds from an illegal
operation. The receipts were counted and are on file at the division
headquarters. The warrant was served and the establishment closed on
the grounds it was an illegal membership club with no license, and no
license to serve liquor.
The police are sure of one thing. They haven't heard the last from the Girls of Christopher Street. They sure
fucking haven't. Now get your ass up and get down to the parade.
Reposted from Joe
Equality Matters reports: 
