A forgotten night in San Francisco: How the queer community defied the police long before Stonewall
It's 1966, the sexual revolution is in full swing, the world is finally taking more notice of LGBTQ people and voices are being raised for their rights. However, enforcing changes to the law was still more like the music of the future, and conflicts with the police were a firm part of the lives of perhaps all openly queer people. San Francisco was no exception.
The Tenderloin district there has always been known as a haven for freethinkers. It was originally a residential neighborhood, but after the 1906 earthquake devastated it, that prestigious status faded. Cheap hotels were built, many bars and restaurants sprang up and the district quickly earned a reputation for its wild nightlife. Moreover, when city officials tried to push queer people out of other parts of San Francisco in the 1960s, the Tenderloin willingly gave them a hug.
Prostitution of trans women and drag queens was rampant; for many of them, it was the only way to make a living because their identity made it nearly impossible for them to find other work. Most of them were on the streets - for most businesses they were a potential reason for getting into trouble with the police. It was not only prostitution that was criminal, but transgender itself. Not dressing gender conforming could also get you thrown in jail. Memoirists often mention that all it took was having the buttons on your clothes on the "right" side for a police officer to take you away in handcuffs. Conversely, crimes against the queer community were a pretty low priority for the police, so LGBTQ people had to get used to trouble from all sides.
A popular meeting place, by coincidence, was Compton's Cafeteria, a business of the same chain. It was open all night and was located near a public spa where queer people liked to enjoy physical pleasures. However, the restaurant's atmosphere was not exactly cordial - the staff often called the police to arrest customers, and fights were commonplace (another reason why the police might have raided the place). It certainly didn't help mutual understanding that many people came there to chat and relax rather than to eat or drink, so the business was also losing out economically.
In July 1966, a group of young activists from a group called Vanguard (which was backed by the liberal Methodists of the Glide Memorial Church) attempted to blockade Compton's Cafeteria to draw attention to police behaviour, which was often unnecessarily brutal. However, it didn't have much effect - the police showed not the slightest inclination to moderate their actions, and the media got into the habit of more or less ignoring the Tenderloin district.
When patience runs out
The media's lack of interest is one of the reasons why we do not know the exact day when the riots broke out. We have to be content with the information that it was some weekend in August. A member of staff called the police because of a noisy customer. A patrol officer arrived to handle the routine situation and attempted to arrest the woman. However, she was not having it and threw a cup of coffee in the officer's face. At that point, the business exploded and went at the law enforcement officers with whatever was at hand. Reinforcements were called in, but even so, the conflict spilled out into the street. In addition to the restaurant's broken windows, a nearby newsagent's and one police car were damaged. There was no peace the next day either, as the restaurant refused to let queer customers in, leading to a spontaneous demonstration in front of its building.
The trans community became active after this incident, several demonstrations took place and two years later the National Transsexual Counseling Unit was founded - an organisation dedicated to legal representation and counselling for transgender people. Gradually, relations between the queer community and city officials and the police improved.
The riots at Compton's Cafeteria were virtually forgotten for a long time. Partly because of the aforementioned lack of media interest, partly because police records from that time no longer exist. Nor did those who remembered the conflict talk much about it - they had become accustomed to police brutality and it was not an outlier for them.
It was only thanks to historian Susan Stryker and her documentary Screaming Queens that the whole affair became more widely known. Stryker also considers the clash to be the first ever documented event of this nature in the US - the famous Stonewall Riots did not take place until three years later.
The author of the article is Martin Klecán, a historian at the Museum of Central Pootaví in Strakonice who specializes in 20th century history. As an LGBTQ ally, he also focuses on queer history and its often neglected chapters.
