{"id":38771,"date":"2025-01-14T13:06:23","date_gmt":"2025-01-14T21:06:23","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/occupysf.net\/?p=38771"},"modified":"2025-01-14T13:52:54","modified_gmt":"2025-01-14T21:52:54","slug":"almost-nobody-remembers-one-of-san-franciscos-worst-betrayals","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/occupysf.net\/index.php\/2025\/01\/14\/almost-nobody-remembers-one-of-san-franciscos-worst-betrayals\/","title":{"rendered":"San Francisco’s “Stonewall”"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

The night was a flash point of San Francisco’s LGBTQ+ history<\/h2>\n\n\n\n
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New Year\u2019s Eve in downtown San Francisco, Dec. 31, 1964.Barney Peterson\/SF Chronicle via Getty Images<\/p>\n\n\n\n

By Timothy Karoff<\/a>, Culture ReporterJan 13, 2025 (SFGate.com)<\/a><\/a><\/a><\/p>\n\n\n\n

A building on Polk Street has a problem. California Hall, which sits on the corner of Turk and Polk streets, blends in with the other boxy<\/a> brick buildings<\/a> that crowd the neighborhood. It looks ornate and vaguely historic, but so do most old Tenderloin buildings. It was built in the 1910s as a meeting hall for Polk Street<\/a>\u2019s German community; in the 1960s it served as a concert venue (the Grateful Dead played there in 1969<\/a>); now, it\u2019s part of the campus of Academy of Art University. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

California Hall\u2019s issue, according to local historians and activists, is that it\u2019s missing a plaque. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

The building was the site of a forgotten flash point of San Francisco\u2019s LGBTQ+ history \u2014 a moment when a group of Protestant ministers struck up an unlikely but rock-solid alliance with San Francisco\u2019s gay and lesbian communities. On New Year\u2019s Eve, 1964, a dance and drag ball at the Hall ended with a police raid and arrests, which spun into a legal battle involving the ACLU. Before the Stonewall riot<\/a> galvanized the gay liberation movement in 1969, and before the Compton\u2019s Cafeteria Riot<\/a> in 1966, the California Hall raid shone a light on police harassment of LGBTQ+ communities. In a 2023 article on the raid, the Guardian<\/a> declared it \u201cSan Francisco\u2019s Stonewall.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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Police arrested the lawyers who attempted to bar them from entering the ball.Courtesy of Gay, Lesbian, Bisexual, Transgender Historical Society<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIt was one of the earliest instances of a police raid against the queer community,\u201d Shawn Sprockett, who gives walking tours on San Francisco\u2019s queer history, told SFGATE. Sprockett\u2019s tour of the Tenderloin and Polk Gulch includes a stop at California Hall. Rarely, if ever, do participants know of the event\u2019s pivotal role in the city\u2019s LGBTQ+ history.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Before the Castro became San Francisco\u2019s official unofficial gay capital, Polk Gulch and the Tenderloin were hot spots for the city\u2019s LGBTQ+ subcultures. In the \u201960s, gay bars lined the streets, and on weekends locals would gather to drink and dance. It was a time when discrimination was rampant, and the Polk\/Tenderloin area was subject to frequent police harassment. Plainclothes officers attempted to entrap gay men at bars, or barge in and arrest couples dancing together. One Tenderloin bar hung up a sign<\/a> advertising this discrimination as part of its weekly programming: \u201cThe Chuckkers famous for its unusual entertainment now presents police harassment! Every Fri & Sat.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

In that same period, Bay Area church leaders had a problem of their own. Protestant churches struggled to make inroads among young San Franciscans, and several churches sent ministers to the city to figure out why. Methodist\u00a0Rev. Ted McIlvenna<\/a>\u00a0was one of them. He left his parish in Hayward and began doing outreach with\u00a0Glide Church<\/a>. There, he gained acquaintances in the city\u2019s gay and lesbian communities, and even went barhopping through the Tenderloin to better understand the scene.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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Rev. Ted McIlvenna is seen at the Institute for Advanced Study of Human Sexuality on Thursday, Feb. 14, 2013, in San Francisco.Lea Suzuki\/SF Chronicle via Getty Images<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWe got to be known in all the gay bars,\u201d McIlvenna recalled in \u201cLewd and Lascivious<\/a>,\u201d a documentary about the California Hall raid. \u201cThey called me the gay priest of Fairyland for a while, which I got a kick out of.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

In 1964 McIlvenna, along with lesbian activists Phyllis Lyon and Del Martin<\/a> and several other ministers, formalized their friendship by launching the Council on Religion and the Homosexual, a group dedicated to facilitating understanding between the church and San Francisco\u2019s gay and lesbian populations. Shortly after CRH was established, it did what any new group of friends would do: It planned to throw a party. The Mardi Gras-themed New Year\u2019s Eve dance would be held in a beautiful old building with around 600 guests, serving as a fundraiser for the new group. Ministers could mingle with drag queens; clergy and their wives could dance next to pairs of lesbians and gay men. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

There was only one snag: They needed a permit from the police department. CRH ministers marched to the police station to argue their case, but negotiations began poorly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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When attendees arrived at the ball, police photographers were stationed by the entrance.Courtesy of Gay, Lesbian, Bisexual, Transgender Historical Society<\/p>\n\n\n\n

As McIlvenna recalled in the documentary: \u201cThe first thing they [the police] said to me when I walked into that meeting, the man said, \u2018Do you believe that masturbation is a sin against God?\u2019 And I said, \u2018You\u2019ve gotta be kidding.\u2019\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAt some point, one of them pounded on the desk … and said, \u2018If you\u2019re not going to uphold God\u2019s law, we will,\u2019\u201d Phyllis Lyon, CRH member and co-founder of the lesbian activist group Daughters of Bilitis, recalled in the documentary.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

In spite of the shaky start, CRH finally received its permit. (The group would have to meet with the police two more times.) Better yet, the police promised not to interfere with the ball. They did not honor this promise. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

When the big night arrived, participants noticed a police van parked across the street and police cars stationed at the corners of the block. Police photographers by the Hall\u2019s entrance snapped photos of attendees as they walked in, some of whom were in full drag.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cImagine you\u2019re in drag, you\u2019re not out to your co-workers,\u201d Sprockett said. \u201cNow your photo\u2019s getting taken by the police. You don\u2019t know where that\u2019s gonna end up. So it was definitely like an intimidation tactic to scare people from going inside.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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The intimidation didn\u2019t stop participants from dancing.Courtesy of Gay, Lesbian, Bisexual, Transgender Historical Society<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The intimidation didn\u2019t stop celebrants from dancing. In \u201cLewd and Lascivious,\u201d Jon Borset recalls meeting another man named Konrad Osterreich, from Los Angeles, and hitting it off: \u201cWe spent some time together, drinking and getting to know one another and dancing.\u201d At its peak, around 600 attendees had gathered in the hall, making it one of the largest gatherings of LGBTQ+ community in San Francisco\u2019s history up to that point.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Two lawyers, Herbert Donaldson and Evander Smith, were stationed at the entrance of the hall. When police came to the door asking to inspect the building\u2019s entrances they acquiesced. When the officers asked to enter the ball, they refused them.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cEvander and I looked at each other and I remember saying, \u2018God damn it, no. If you\u2019re going to come in, you\u2019re going to come in with a search warrant,\u2019 Donaldson said in the documentary. \u201cAnd then, all of a sudden, it seemed like the entryway filled up with police.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The police entered the hall, some plainclothes and some uniformed. One man in street clothes interrupted Borset and Osterreich while they were dancing, and asked them to follow him outside. When they stepped out onto the sidewalk, he arrested them.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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In court, an SFPD inspector claimed that he showed up at the ball with 15 officers and two police photographers \u201cjust to inspect the premises.\u201dCourtesy of Gay, Lesbian, Bisexual, Transgender Historical Society<\/p>\n\n\n\n

As police raided the hall, attendees raced to leave. One minister walked drag queens to their limo, holding up his coat to block the views of police photographers. Another, Rev. Chuck Lewis, ran to his apartment in North Beach to retrieve his camera, then back to Polk Street to take flash photos of the police raiding the ball. To keep the photos from being confiscated, CRH member Joanne Chadwick stuffed them in her bra.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

For John Brett of the San Francisco Night Ministry<\/a>, this was an especially illuminating gesture. \u201cJust as much as people attending the dance wouldn’t want their pictures to be published given the oppression \u2026 of the time, the police didn’t want their pictures taken either,\u201d he told SFGATE. \u201cBecause then it would make their future raids and activities against the queer community and other communities more difficult.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

When the dust had settled, police had made six arrests: Conrad Osterreich, also reported as Konrad, and Jon Borset, who were arrested for dancing together; Nancy May, who took tickets; and attorneys Herbert Donaldson, Evander Smith and Elliott Leighton.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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Rev. Cecil Williams of Glide Memorial Methodist Church at press conference, Feb. 13, 1974.Dave Randolph\/SF Chronicle via Getty Images<\/p>\n\n\n\n

In the following days, the raid turned into a PR disaster for the San Francisco Police Department. None of the seven ministers at the event, among them Rev. Cecil Williams<\/a>, was arrested, and the next day, they called a press conference in protest of what they described as \u201cbad faith\u201d on the part of SFPD.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

SFPD\u2019s legal efforts floundered as well. A lawyer from the ACLU represented Smith and Donaldson, who were tried for interfering with police. In the courtroom, Inspector Rudy Nieto of SFPD\u2019s Sex Detail claimed that he showed up at the ball with 15 officers and two police photographers \u201cjust to inspect the premises,\u201d prompting ministers and their wives who were present to break out into laughter. The next day, the judge presiding over the case asked the jury to rule not guilty: \u201cIt\u2019s useless to waste everybody\u2019s time following this to the finale.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Later that year, Donaldson, Smith, Leighton and May filed a suit against the city of San Francisco and 20 members of the police department, including the chief, for $1,050,000 in damages for the violation of their civil rights. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

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Gay activists, drag queens and ministers and their wives intermingled at the ball.Courtesy of Gay, Lesbian, Bisexual, Transgender Historical Society<\/p>\n\n\n\n

At the time, the raid made a splash. Although the fallout exposed police harassment, its legacy faded in the intervening years. In San Francisco\u2019s historical memory, the California Hall raid underwent the reverse maneuver of the Compton\u2019s Cafeteria Riot<\/a>. That incident, once nearly forgotten, now has reemerged as a canonical event in San Francisco\u2019s trans history. The Tenderloin Museum even produces an interactive play<\/a> inspired by the event. And, of course, there\u2019s a plaque<\/a> designating the building that once hosted the cafeteria.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

All of which takes us back to California Hall\u2019s problem. It\u2019s missing a plaque. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Although the building doesn\u2019t yet bear any historical distinction, locals are commemorating the raid on their own. On Jan. 1, 2025, Brett, Sprockett, and several others gathered outside the hall to mark the raid\u2019s 60th anniversary. A small group stood together, reading stories from that night before holding a moment of silence.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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Phyllis Lyons and Del Martin, founders of the Daughters of Bilitis, outside their home in Noe Valley in San Francisco, March 3, 1989.Eric Luse\/SF Chronicle via Getty Images<\/p>\n\n\n\n

They plan to return next year on New Year\u2019s Day, Brett said, and again every year from then on. He expects the next commemoration to be grander, with a parade of drag queens marching down Turk Street. In the meantime, they\u2019ll keep lobbying for a plaque. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThe clergy members and their wives stood up and gave validation to the queer community as allies \u2026 so that the queer community could stand as pride in spaces where they were previously unwelcomed. It was a type of capacity building that everyone benefited from,\u201d Brett said. \u201cAnd we can take inspiration by keeping these stories alive.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Jan 13, 2025<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Timothy Karoff<\/a><\/p>\n\n\n\n

CULTURE REPORTER<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Timothy Karoff is SFGATE\u2019s culture reporter. He lives in San Francisco\u2019s Mission District. You can contact him at timothy.karoff@sfgate.com.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

The night was a flash point of San Francisco’s LGBTQ+ history New Year\u2019s Eve in downtown San Francisco, Dec. 31, 1964.Barney Peterson\/SF Chronicle via Getty Images By Timothy Karoff, Culture ReporterJan 13, 2025 (SFGate.com) A building on Polk Street has a problem. California Hall, which sits on the corner of Turk… Continue reading → <\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/occupysf.net\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/38771"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/occupysf.net\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/occupysf.net\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/occupysf.net\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/occupysf.net\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=38771"}],"version-history":[{"count":5,"href":"https:\/\/occupysf.net\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/38771\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":38788,"href":"https:\/\/occupysf.net\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/38771\/revisions\/38788"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/occupysf.net\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=38771"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/occupysf.net\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=38771"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/occupysf.net\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=38771"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}