N.Y. Daily News article from 1969
Homo Nest Raided, Queen Bees Are Stinging Mad
She 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 pained 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 table.
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 they 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 tieing
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.
By Jerry Lisker.
Reprinted from "The New York Daily News," July 6, 1969
From a recent Usenet post.
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