2 or 3 things I know about her

New York Daily News, July 6, 1969

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 didnt 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 premisses.

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.