The Night the Queers Fought Back—Stonewall and the Birth of a Movement

The Stonewall was a dive bar operated by the Mob in New York's Greenwich Village.  It's patrons were outcasts and the most flamboyant of a rough streets scene--young hustlers, drag queens, butch lesbians.  It was also an inter-racial scene that attracted police attention.  Wealthier and more respectable Gays gathered and partied more discretely in posh clubs that authorities usually ignored.

Fifty years ago on the night of June 27, 1969 something snapped when New York City Police made one of their regular raids on a Gay bar.  Instead of meekly submitting to arrest, the denizens  of the Stonewall Inn, a Greenwich Village bar operated by the Mafia and patronized by the most marginalized of folks—homeless street kid hustlers, drag queens, butch dikes, and others resisted when police started to arrest them. 

The raid was conducted by a small team of detectives, uniformed officers including women led by Deputy Inspector Seymour Pine of the Public Morals Squad. 

For some reason patrons refused to follow the familiar procedure of such raids—allowing restroom inspections of individuals in women’s clothing to determine if they were men and providing identification upon request.  Dumfounded by resistance, police called for backup and patrol wagons.  There was some scuffling inside.  

The Stonewall Inn in 1969 looked just as seedy as it was.

Meanwhile some patrons who had been released were joined by passersby outside the bar.  The crowd quickly swelled.  Taunts and jeers were exchanged between the police and crowd.  The crowd began to interfere as drag queens were led to the wagons.  When a lesbian made several unsuccessful attempts to escape, she was beaten and cried out to the crowd, “Why don’t you guys do something?” 

That ignited the crowd which began pelting police with beer cans, coins, and rubble from a nearby construction site.  They attacked the wagons, freeing some of those arrested.  Police retreated into the bar and barricaded themselves.  They grabbed some members of the crowd as they went, including folk singer Dave Van Ronk who had been playing at a nearby club and came out to investigate the ruckus, and Howard Smith, a writer for the Village Voice. 

When a lesbian named Betty repeatedly tried to break away from custody and was roughly handled by several cops she famously pleaded, "Why don't you guys do something?"  It became the Remember he Alamo battle cry of a movement.

Observers reported that the most aggressive members of the crowd were the young street kids.  They used an uprooted parking meter as a ram to try and break down the doors of the bar and crashed through the plywood covered windows.  When they got in police drew their pistols and threatened to shoot while rioters used lighter fluid to start a fire. 

The Fire Department responded as the crowd outside grew to hundreds.  The Tactical Police Force (TPF) arrived in riot gear to rescue the besieged officers in the saloon.  They formed a phalanx and moved up the street being blocked and taunted by an impromptu kick line of drag queens and “sissies.”  

Drag queens played a leading role in the resistance after the police raid in the the nights that followed.

Rioters and police played a brand of violent tag around the narrow streets of the Village until after 4 AM.  

Later that morning the riots were front page news. 

And they were not over.  The next night even larger crowds gathered in front of the building and fighting continued.  Despite heavy rain there were sporadic eruptions the next two nights. 

Meanwhile the Gay community, which had been largely unorganized except for the small Mattachine Society which advocated a campaign to educate the public that Homosexuals were “normal,” began to meet and debate tactics.  Thousands of fliers were printed for a Wednesday march. 

The original rebellion, which had been entirely spontaneous, was already laying the groundwork for a new, open and defiant Gay movement.  Taking cues from the Civil Rights Movement and the Peace Movement, which were also confronting authorities with a new militancy, and taking advantage of the traditional anti-establishment radicalism of the Village, the beginning of a new movement was taking place. 

On Wednesday the Village Voice—the most liberal paper in New York, carried a harshly critical piece on the riots describing participants as “forces of faggotry.”  Angry demonstrators descended on the Voice offices that night and threatened to burn them down.  Other violent confrontations erupted in the neighborhood as police tried to stop marchers, this time for the first time carrying signs and “making demands.” 

That was the last night of disturbances, but things changed quickly over the next year.  Two new militant Gay organizations emerged in New York, the Gay Liberation Front, which allied itself with the broader radical movement, and the Gay Activists Alliance which advocated a focused campaign demanding an end to police harassment and for broader rights for Gays. 

Similar or allied groups sprang up in major cities and college towns across the country.  New Yorkers founded three new newspapers, Gay, Come Out!, and Gay Power which soon had press runs to 2000 to 2500.  Again, similar publications were founded across the country.  

The Christopher Street March on the first anniversary of the Stonewall Rebellion is considered the founding event of the Gay Pride marches now held internationally.

On June 28, 1970 the anniversary of what was now being called the Stonewall Rebellion was marked by Christopher Street Liberation Day and a 51 block march from the Village to Central Park with thousands of marchers filling the streets.  Marches were also held in Chicago and Los Angeles. 

These became the Gay Pride Marches and annual events across the country.  There was a huge march is scheduled this Sunday in Chicago.  An indication of how accepted and mainstream Gay rights have become, at least in big cities, is that there are official floats sponsored by the city’s sports teams. Politicians galore and all of the major media turn out to court the potent Gay vote and consumer demographic.  But there were still loads drag queens and all of the high camp fun that the carnival-like parades have become known for.

This year New York City will have competing Pride Parades on June 30.  The Heritage of Pride (HOP) Parade  has faced criticism in past years for over commercialization, dominant corporate  presence in  floats and units. campaigning politicians, the presence of uniformed police officers, and restrictive rules. The Reclaim Pride Coalition (RPC) will sponsor an alternative back to basic march “Eschewing the corporate-saturated, highly policed nature of recent parades, the March is a truly grassroots action that mobilizes the community to address the many social and political battles that continue to be fought locally, nationally, and globally.”  Local TV will lavishly cover the older, more respectable event.

But this year Gay Pride Parades  also reflect a community increasingly under siege by a well-oiled and funded backlash led by religious zealots and abetted by the radicalized Republican Party eager to pander to a big part of its base.  With Republicans in complete control of many governorships and State houses rafts of anti-Gay legislation have been enacted or proposed. 

And now the Cheeto-in-Charge, who in an earlier incarnation had proclaimed himself a “friend of the Gays,” has lent his full blather and bluster to stoking the fires of repression.  He let Gay Pride Month pass without even the most tepid acknowledgement and order U.S embassies abroad not to fly the Pride Flag—an order that was flouted at many of them.  Trump has worked to strip protections against discrimination in agency after agency. The Supreme Court recently smiled on so-called religious liberty grounds for refusing service to Gays, lesbians, and transgender folk.

So it was not a surprise that in the midst of the usual party, floats and marching units speak out.  Or that in several cities outright protests have broken  out around or in the parades.  50 years after the fact Pride Month has returned to its roots—Resistance!

Stonewall—The Night the Queers Fought Back

The Stonewall was a dive bar operated by the Mob in New York's Greenwich Village.  It's patrons were outcasts and the most flamboyant of a rough streets scene--young hustlers, drag queens, butch lesbians.  It was also an inter-racial scene all of it attracted police attention.  Wealthier and more respectable Gays gathered and partied more discretely in posh clubs that authorities usually ignored.

On the night of June 27, 1969 something snapped when New York City Police made one of their regular raids on a Gay bar.  Instead of meekly submitting to arrest, the denizens  of the Stonewall Inn, a Greenwich Village bar operated by the Mafia and patronized by the most marginalized of folks—homeless street kid hustlers, drag queens, butch dikes, and others resisted when police started to arrest them. 

The raid was conducted by a small team of detectives, uniformed officers including women led by Deputy Inspector Seymour Pine of the Public Morals Squad. 

For some reason patrons refused to follow the familiar procedure of such raids—allowing restroom inspections of individuals in women’s clothing to determine if they were men and providing identification upon request.  Dumfounded by resistance, police called for backup and patrol wagons.  There was some scuffling inside.  

The Stonewall in looked just as seedy as it was.

Meanwhile some patrons who had been released were joined by passersby outside the bar.  The crowd quickly swelled.  Taunts and jeers were exchanged between the police and crowd.  The crowd began to interfere as drag queens were led to the wagons.  When a lesbian made several unsuccessful attempts to escape, she was beaten and cried out to the crowd, “Why don’t you guys do something?” 

That ignited the crowd which began pelting police with beer cans, coins, and rubble from a nearby construction sight.  They attacked the wagons, freeing some of those arrested.  Police retreated into the bar and barricaded themselves.  They grabbed some members of the crowd as they went, including folk singer Dave Van Ronk who had been playing at a nearby club and came out to investigate the ruckus, and Howard Smith, a writer for the Village Voice. 

When a lesbian named Betty repeatedly tried to break away from custody and was roughly handled by several cop she famously pled, "Why don't you guys do something?"  It became the Remember he Alamo battle cry of a movement.

Observers reported that the most aggressive members of the crowd were the young street kids.  They used an uprooted parking meter as a ram to try and break down the doors of the bar and crashed through the plywood covered windows.  When they got in police drew their pistols and threatened to shoot while rioters used lighter fluid to start a fire. 

The Fire Department responded as the crowd outside grew to hundreds.  The Tactical Police Force (TPF) arrived in riot gear to rescue the besieged officers in the saloon.  They formed a phalanx and moved up the street being blocked and taunted by an impromptu kick line of drag queens and “sissies.”  

Drag queens played a leading role in the resistance after the police raid in the the nights that followed.

Rioters and police played a brand of violent tag around the narrow streets of the Village until after 4 AM. 

Later that morning the riots were front page news. 

And they were not over.  The next night even larger crowds gathered in front of the building and fighting continued.  Despite heavy rain there were sporadic eruptions the next two nights. 

Meanwhile the Gay community, which had been largely unorganized except for the small Mattachine Society which advocated a campaign to educate the public that Homosexuals were “normal,” began to meet and debate tactics.  Thousands of fliers were printed for a Wednesday march. 

The original rebellion, which had been entirely spontaneous, was already laying the groundwork for a new, open and defiant Gay movement.  Taking cues from the Civil Rights Movement and the Peace Movement, which were also confronting authorities with a new militancy, and taking advantage of the traditional anti-establishment radicalism of the Village, the beginning of a new movement was taking place. 

On Wednesday the Village Voice—the most liberal paper in New York, carried a harshly critical piece on the riots describing participants as “forces of faggotry.”  Angry demonstrators descended on the Voice offices that night and threatened to burn them down.  Other violent confrontations erupted in the neighborhood as police tried to stop marchers, this time for the first time carrying signs and “making demands.”  

That was the last night of disturbances, but things changed quickly over the next year.  Two new militant Gay organizations emerged in New York, the Gay Liberation Front, which allied itself with the broader radical movement, and the Gay Activists Alliance which advocated a focused campaign demanding an end to police harassment and for broader rights for Gays. 

Similar or allied groups sprang up in major cities and college towns across the country.  New Yorkers founded three new newspapers, Gay, Come Out!, and Gay Power which soon had press runs to 20-2500.  Again, similar publications were founded across the country.  

The Christopher Street March on the first anniversary of the Stonewall Rebellion is considered the founding event of the Gay Pride marches now held internationally.

On June 28, 1970 the anniversary of what was now being called the Stonewall Rebellion was marked by Christopher Street Liberation Day and a 51 block march from the Village to Central Park with thousands of marchers filling the streets.  Marches were also held in Chicago and Los Angeles. 

These became the Gay Pride Marches that have become annual events across the country.  There was a huge march this Sunday in Chicago.  An indication of how accepted and mainstream Gay rights have become, at least in big cities, is that there were official floats sponsored by the city’s sports teams. Politicians galore and all of the major media turn out to court the potent Gay vote and consumer demographic.  But there were still loads drag queens and all of the high camp fun that the carnival-like parades have become known for.

Resistance was a theme at many Gay Pride marches this year like this one in Los Angeles.

But this year Gay Pride Parades  also reflected a community increasingly under siege by a well-oiled and funded backlash led by religious zealots and abetted by the radicalized Republican Party eager to pander to a big part of its base.  With Republicans in complete control of many governorships and State houses rafts of anti-Gay legislation have been enacted or proposed. 

And now the Cheeto-in-Charge, who in an earlier incarnation had proclaimed himself a “friend of the Gays,” has lent his full blather and bluster to stoking the fires of repression.  He let Gay Pride Month pass without even the most tepid acknowledgement but pointedly spoke to a meeting of an ardently anti-Gay religious group.  He also signed an Executive Order supposedly in support of religious liberty that gives free reign to churches, charities, businesses, and individual professionals and crafts people to discriminate against Gays in almost every way.  Hell, it virtually invites them to do so.  Internationally Trump had refused to protest and seemed to endorse his pal Vladimir Putin’s increasingly violent suppression of Gays in Russia and practically endorsed the even more extreme repression by Turkey which is rapidly turning into a right wing Islamic dictatorship.  His proposed budget stripped funding from HIV/AIDS research and he supports the Senate Republican health care bill that will strip coverage to many.

So it was not a surprise that in the midst of the usual party, floats and marching units spoke out.  Or that in several cities outright protests broke out around or in the parades.  48 years after the fact Pride Month has returned to its roots—Resistance!

Mass Death at a Gay Bar—The Forgotten Atrocity

Stunned community members tended victims of the UsStairs Lounge arson fire.

Forty-three years ago on July 24, 1974, long before an enraged guy with a couple of high-powered semi-automatic weapons loosed mass death on the patrons of an Orlando night club, 32 people, mostly gay men died gruesomely in a terrorist arson attack on a New Orleans gay bar.  There was no national show of horror and solidarity.  The President was silent.  So was the Louisiana governor, the Big Easy’s Mayor and every single public official in the city.  No flags were lowered to half mast.  Newspapers hardly acknowledged who the victims were or why they were gathered.  Ministers refused to conduct funerals or comfort the bereaved.  Some preached that the dead got no less than they deserved and that the flames that consumed them were only an introduction to eternal torture in Hell.

The event has in a generation become a nearly forgotten non-event.  Even in the aftermath of Orlando, scant mention was made of what until then was the worst terrorist assault on gays in American history.

It was an early Sunday evening.  The UpStairs Lounge which occupied the second floor of an antebellum building at 141 Chartres Street in the French Quarter was closed to regular business.  The New Orleans congregation of the Metropolitan Community Church, a LGBT friendly Protestant denomination founded in Los Angeles in 1968, held services commemorating the Stonewall Uprising in New York.  Afterwards the congregation and the bar hosted a free beer and dinner social.  As many as 125 people were originally in attendance but only 60 or so remained chatting and listening to piano player David Gary.  Some were discussing the church’s planned fundraiser for a hospital for crippled children.  

Patrons enjoying themselves at the Lounge in this snapshot taken before the tragedy.

Shortly before 8 pm someone buzzed the door. 

Although New Orleans had a reputation as a cosmopolitan any-thing-goes town and there was a fairly well established gay scene in the city, it was not possible for establishments like the UpStairs Lounge to operate too openly.  Harassment and assaults of patrons was common.  Like most of the rest of a dozen or so known gay bars in the city, most of them like this one in run down and off-the-beaten-path parts of the French Quarter or in warehouse districts, operated semi-clandestinely with little signage to attract attention and even unmarked entrances.  Here, people had to buzz for admission at the door at bottom of the stairs.  Then a bouncer would use a speakeasy style with a sliding panel eye level portal in the upper door to I.D. whoever was gaining entrance.

That evening there was no bouncer for the semi-private gathering.  Bartender Buddy Rasmussen asked patron Luther Boggs to check the door.  When the down stairs door was buzzed someone opened it, through lighter fluid on the stairs and tossed in a match or burning rag which immediately ignited an inferno in the narrow stairwell.  Boggs slid back the portal panel creating a draft that sucked the flames inside in an almost blow torch affect.

Boggs was engulfed in the flames and his clothes set afire.  The fire immediately ignited the lush ‘70’s era decorations which included velvet drapes, flocked wallpaper, silk screens, table cloths, and carpets.  The fire spread in a flash through all three rooms.

The front staircase was the only easily accessible exit.  Quick thinking bartender Rassmussen, an Air Force veteran, gathered twenty patrons and led them to a back entrance from which they exited to a lower extension of the building’s roof and then jumped to the roof of an adjacent building. This would represent most of the survivors of the fire, and all of those who escaped with no or minor injuries.

Unfortunately in the ensuing panic other patrons either did not know about the back entrance or found it blocked by the spreading flames.  Outlets to two fire escapes on the side of the building were through partially blocked windows.  But those who got onto the escapes discovered that they did not extend to the ground, they had to drop to the pavement a story below compounding injuries from the fire.  Among these was MCC Assistant Pastor George “Mitch” Mitchell who returned to the inferno in an effort to save his boyfriend Louis Broussard.  The bodies of the two men were later recovered clinging to each other.

Rev. Larson's charred body was left for nearly a day wedged in the window where he died in agony.

Some of the other windows were boarded up or barred.  People tried to squeeze out between the bars.  One man got through the bars which were 14 inches apart but fell to his death with his clothes in flames.  Reverend Bill Larson, the former Methodist lay minister who led the MCC congregation was trapped half way out a window.  His screams of agony could be heard by the crowd which quickly gathered on the street and sidewalk below for several minutes.  His charred and contorted body was left uncovered in the window for more than 24 hours.  Finally the lower half of his body broke off and hit an employee of The Jimani, the jazz club and bar that occupied the first floor of the building when he went in to retrieve the contents of the cash register and safe. 

Inside Mrs. Willie Inez Warren, the only female victim, was found alongside her two sons, Eddie Hosea and James Curtis Warren with whom she had attended the services and dinner.  In an era when many families rejected and disowned their gay children her loving acceptance of hers cost her life.  In fact in the wake of the fire, some families refused to identify or accept the remains of dead family members either for fear of being publicly humiliated or because they were already alienated.  Some were never identified and at least four were buried together in a mass pauper grave.

Among the other victims were life partners Joe William Bailey and Clarence, Joseph McCloskey, Jr. who were also found together; Jefferson Parish Dentist Dr. Perry Lane Waters, Jr. who treated many other victims and whose dental x-ray records led to the identification of some victims; George Steven (Bud) Matyi, a rising young pianist and composer who was appearing at the nearby Marriott Hotel and who planned to perform after house player Gary who also died; linguist Adam Roland Fontenot, the partner of rescuer/hero Rasmussen; Leon Richard Maples, a visitor from Florida; and several active members and lay leaders of the MCC congregation.

Although there was a fire station only two blocks away, firefighters were delayed in responding due to clogged traffic on the narrow French Quarter streets and the crowds that gathered taking up most of the block by the burning building.  One truck crashed into a taxi trying to maneuver around traffic on a sidewalk.  When they finally arrived the whole second floor of the building was fully engaged and flames were reaching the third floor which contained rooms sometimes used for trysts by bar patrons.  None of the rooms were in use that evening.  As firefighters turned their hoses on the building and tried to get ladders up to the barred windows, some in the crowd interfered with their work and chants of let the faggots die were heard.

The aftermath of the fire was almost as ugly as the disaster.

The Times-Picayunne headline the day after the fire.

Of course a fire involving such enormous loss of life in the busy French Quarter, then as now the center of the city’s thriving night life and tourist trade.  It was front page news for two or three days and featured on local television which carried dramatic footage.  The local paper of record, the Times-Picayune carried gruesome photos including one of Rev. Larson trapped in the window.  But coverage largely omitted or minimized mention that the club catered to gay patrons or explained the nature of the MCC.  With the exception of pro-forma statements of fire and police officials, the city was silent on the tragedy.  The customary declaration of mourning which had routinely followed other fire tragedies and major loss of life incidents was never issued.  There was a fear that publicizing the gay connection would harm the city’s vital tourist business.

Of course in a town like New Orleans it soon became common knowledge.  Radio talk show hosts openly mocked the victims.  Callers commented that they got what they deserved or expressed regret that more had not died.  The few who dared express human sympathy were rudely shouted down.

The reaction by most churches was worse.  Many declined to conduct funeral services for the dead.  Some barred prayer services or memorial gathers on their property and forbad their ministers from participating in any.  Pastoral care to the bereaved was in many cases withheld.  The following Sunday many preachers took to their pulpits to denounce the victims and to call for a campaign to scourge Gays from the city.  

Rev. William Richardson was chastised for  offering comfort

Ministers who departed from the expected path paid dearly for it. Reverend William P. Richardson of St. George’s Episcopal Church conducted a quiet prayer service for the dead on June 25 that was attended by about 80 people.  When word reached diocesan Bishop Iveson Batchelor Noland he publicly rebuked Richardson and disciplined him.  Over a hundred members of his Church registered formal complaints against him and he was flooded with hate mail and threatening phone calls. 

Finally, on July 1 two memorial services were held.  One was at the First Unitarian Church of New Orleans which was no stranger to controversy having been firebombed over its support for Civil Rights earlier.  The second and larger service was conducted at St. Mark’s United Methodist Church and was presided by Louisiana Bishop Finis Crutchfield and MCC founder Reverend Troy Perry from Los Angeles.  That service was especially memorable because mourners entered and exited the church by the main front doors instead of a secluded side entrance, a defiant demonstration of a willingness to be identified on camera.  That was a turning point for the New Orleans gay community.

Many felt that New Orleans police were less than diligent in trying to solve the murder of “those fags.”  Although no one claimed to have seen the arsonist, survivors and building owner James “Jim” Massacci were convinced that due to the circumstances, it had to be someone familiar with the layout of the entrance and the club’s buzz-in policy.  That suggested someone who had been a customer or visitor and not a random anti-gay attack.

One suspect came to mind, Rodger Dale Nunez, a street hustler and prostitute with a history hospitalizations and belligerent behavior.  He had been thrown out of the bar early during the social for starting a fight and had tried once or twice to return.  Police tried to interview, but found him hospitalized with a broken jaw, possibly a result of the fight, and was unable to speak.  They interviewed at least one other suspect, a homeless man who may have boasted about setting the fire, but determined that it was a false claim.  Nunez was placed in psychiatric custody but managed to escape.  Despite being seen by several witnesses around the French Quarter, the police could not locate him.  Acquaintances claimed than Nunez had confessed to them saying he did not think that his “prank” would have such devastating consequences.\

Nunez committed suicide that November.  Some believe his death was tantamount to an admission of guilt.  Others believe that he may have been driven to suicide by the widespread assumption in the gay community that he was the culprit.  The Police, who are often eager to close tough cases when a convenient suspect emerges, never officially concluded that Nunez was the murderer.  The case remained open until the Louisiana Fire Marshall officially closed the case in 1980.

Slowly, New Orleans came to terms with what had happened.  It took decades.  In 1988 on the 25th Anniversary a major memorial service was held in a major hotel ball room.  It was organized by a reconstituted MCC congregation, the Big Easy MCC Congregation and included several prominent religious leaders of different faiths and local elected official were in attendance.  At the conclusion of the service a traditional New Orleans jazz funeral procession was held—a public display not possible before.  Members of the MCC church placed a wreath and a memorial plaque outside of the building.  The plaque remains.

Part of Skyler Fein's memorial art instillation featured photos of the victims and their stories.

In 2008 artist Skylar Fein created an art installation, Remember the Upstairs Lounge now on display at the New Orleans Museum of Art.

On the fortieth anniversary in 2013 Roman Catholic Archbishop of New Orleans, Gregory Michael Aymond issued a formal apology for the lack of sympathy shown by the Church in 1973, “In retrospect, if we did not release a statement we should have to be in solidarity with the victims and their families ... The church does not condone violence and hatred. If we did not extend our care and condolences, I deeply apologize.”  The statement was late in coming and mealy-mouthed.  But then some conservative Protestants denominations have not done that much and would behave exactly the same way today.

And that, my friends, is a problem.