American Experience; Stonewall Uprising; Interview with Dick Leitsch, 1 of 3

This is just a conversation and a whole house, right, just work cocktails. Where is the cocktails, right? Isn't the bloody minute very time yet? Well, we were talking before. The people don't believe in nowadays or younger generations can't imagine what life is like. A day person in the 15th and 16th were the different from now? Well, a lot of it's very different from now. When I came to New York, it was like a police state. There was no place for gay people to meet and wherever you met, you got in trouble. There was a corner of 53rd and 3rd, which is a very cruising corner. 6th Avenue and 8th Street, Ville de Square, were very cruisey places. And the cops that went and chased people out in the newspapers would write articles saying that 53rd and 3rd Street has become a gathering place for idiots, homosexuals hanging out there. And then it's just a cops come and scatter everybody.

And there was no place to meet because nobody would, you know, church's organizations and stuff wouldn't let gay people in. Because they were afraid that the cops would come and get them for letting homosexuals gather and congregate. And the whole idea was to keep us, you know, keep us suffered and invisible. I don't know if you think they're comfortable with us. Oh, okay. This is a test, right? I know it's like yoga, just standing around that, you don't think about that. Right. So, wait. What? How did the police in the 16th perceive you? How did the police perceive us as the enemy? We were to be rounded up and kept them meeting one another. And we had no place to gather, no place to congregate. If a theater or a street corner or something became a place where we hung out, the newspapers would write about it and say, it's a notorious gathering place for deviates. And they'd call on the police to come and raid it and chase us away. And no place where we could meet. But what was the laws that you were aware of?

The laws? Well, of course there was a salami law, but that was hardly ever enforced. But the basic law was, it was an offense in New York City to, excuse me, let me start right here with that. I'm trying to put the phrasing with. What was the David? No. For the purpose of, loitering for the purpose of, yeah, okay. Got an extension. So, what was some of the more shocking laws? Well, there was a law that made it to crime to solicit for a homosexual act. And the New York State liquor authority had a rule that the presence of one known homosexual and a licensed premise made the place disorderly and allowed them to take the license away from the restaurant or bar.

There was actually a law, not a law, but a rule with the Secretary of State's office that if you were a known homosexual, you couldn't be a hairdresser. You couldn't have a hairdressing license, which is perfectly ridiculous. There was a cap, what they call the cabaret law. And if you were a known homosexual, if you've been arrested for drug use, any other number of other things, you couldn't get a cabaret license. And you had to have a cabaret license to work in a liquor authority and a liquor establishment. And that's why you see that picture for sale in Times Square, Frank Sinatra with a number of crosses front. Well, he was arrested for some reason or another. He was not allowed to perform in a licensed premise in New York. And Billy Holiday had been arrested for drugs. So she couldn't perform in a licensed liquor establishment in New York. Yeah. Is that why I mean, it was with the laws much harder than for gay than any other individual. Yeah, I think so, because we weren't allowed to congregate.

We had the laws against us, not laws. There was social pressure to keep us from congregating. And if a place of theater or street corner became known as a place for gay is met, then the newspapers, particularly the journal American and its radical riots like that, would demand that the police do something about the homosexuals congregating at the corner of 53rd and 3rd. And so there's been, so nobody was set up a place where we could meet because they were afraid that the cops would come in and close it. And that's how the mafia got into the gay bar business. Before you knew that, did you, was it easier in the village than in other places in Congress? I'm sorry. But the village was safer for gay in the village than in other places. A lot of people came here, right? A lot of people came here. You know, when I came to New York, the village wasn't the gay center. The upper west side was. And then it moved to the village. And Times Square, of course, was the main place where people went. And that was the main venue for everything in those days. And at one point, in 1964 or 1965, I think it was,

when they were having these cleanups, when they were around and tried to stop homosexuals from congregating here and there, they had two going at the same time. One in Midtown and one in the village. And on March 17th, which was the coldest day of the year, the arrest in Times Square outnumbered the arrest in the village. And Sanford Geraldeck, from the police department, told the Harold Tribune, well, I guess the uptown fags are harder than the downtown fags. They all went out last night. I guess you got a crap we had to put up within those days, you know? I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Sorry. Okay. Thank you so much. Did you come to New York City from far away and would you come here partly because of your sexual orientation? I came to New York, sorry. I came to New York from Kentucky.

I grew up in Louisville, Kentucky. And I always wanted to go to New York. And so I came to New York for a vacation for two weeks. And this is where I belong. And so I went back and got my stuff and came. And I've been here ever since 1960. And why did you feel it going here? Well, because there's New York, there's a big city and there's a lot going on. And also because it was so diverse. I mean, I came from Louisville, Kentucky and everybody that I knew was white in middle class. And they all lived in the same suburb. And everybody's daddy had pretty much the same job. And everybody had pretty much the same income. Everybody spoke the same language. It was just plain boring. And New York was exciting and vibrant. And all kinds of stuff going on. All kinds of opportunities. I wanted to be here. Did you feel comfortable and gay person? Yes, I did. And I came from a family that was very accepting. And my parents, my father had been a chic. And my mother had been a flapper in the 20s. And they had all these gay friends.

And I grew up around gay people. And they weren't upset by homosexuality or anything. And I had brothers and sisters. And they all have children. And that's important because the first thing parents want is grandchildren. And once they got the grandkids, the other kids can do what they want to do. So it was all right. Were you inspired when you came and saw light in the village? And there was sort of a miracle. Well, actually I came to New York with a boyfriend and with a lover. And we settled on 70th Street in West End Avenue. And we were very middle class. We both had jobs. And then we worked. And we had all of our friends were couples. And we socialized couple with other couples and stuff. And it was kind of at that time Harper's Magazine wrote an article, published an article called New York's middle class homosexual ghetto about the upper west side. And that's what we were middle class living in a little gay ghetto up there. And then Derek and I broke up. And so then I started wanting them around and, you know, enjoying the gay life in New York.

And that's what I found out about all the oppression and this stuff that was going on. Because while we were a couple, we didn't go out much. And so we didn't know about that. And then when I started wandering around and seeing the bars getting rated, and my friends getting entrapped and arrested and stuff. And that's when I became, you know, sort of an activist. And so we got to stop this stuff. This can't go on. This is America. We don't do things like that here. Well, that's a little ironic, it seems. Like in New York, the mecca of, you know, gay life in the country. And then, and a land of, you know, it's sort of an artistic, a free body expression of what not so. Well, that's what, that's what was the big surprise. To me, when I came to New York was because I set back home and read all the magazines. And you read about Truman Capote and Tennessee Williams and Groverdale and all these, and all these actors and stuff. The Barachi and all these people running around doing all these things. And then you came to New York and you found that, well, maybe they're doing them. But, you know, a little middle class, almost sexual. We're getting busted all the time.

Every time we go, every time we have a place to go, he gets rated. Every time we start hanging out, some place to cops come and chase us away. You know, and I guess things were just different for, well, I guess just people, just different for the upper class people than they were for us middle class people. I don't know. What, can you describe the bars or what were they liking? Oh, the bars were in those days. They were, I liked them a lot. They were run by the mafia because it was illegal to have a gay bar basically. And they were run by the mafia. And they would take a place that had closed and gone out of business. That was, that was about to go out of business. And they would just move in and they paint everything black, white, and red, gay bars. Color scheme was always black, white, and red. And it was all minimally done. They spent no money on them. And they hired bartenders that went from place to place up. I knew the gay bar tenders and you hired a gay bar tender to bring the clientele in. And they were funky and nasty and often dirty, not always, but often. And you could do anything you wanted to do.

And you felt like you were living out of life or stand. It felt really degenerate. And you felt comfortable doing anything you wanted to do. And of course, now bars are all very nice and very old again. And you feel like, well, I can't put my feet on the table. And I can't do this. And I can't do that. And it's like being in your mother's house. It's not as much fun as it used to be. The relationship of the mafia. Like you remember I mentioned before, there's an incredible problem. Oh, yeah. Oh, yeah. Why do they want to do this? Well, because there's money there. No. Can you talk about the mafia in your relationship? Well, the mafia. The mafia existed by providing services that the government said you couldn't have. The mafia is where you went. If you wanted gay bars, it's where you went. If you went loan sharks. If you couldn't get a loan from the bank, you went to a loan shark. The mafia supplied prostitutes and mafia ran drugs. The mafia ran liquor during the prohibition. And the mafia filled, it's the ultimate market economy. You know, there's a market here to be filled.

Nobody else is filling it. The mafia would come in and fill it. And like a good capitalist. They'd make a minor, a minimal investment for a maximum profit. When Stonewall opened, they spent $3,500 on the decor. And the first night they were open, they took in $5,000. And the next night they took in another $5,000. It's the ultimate capitalist system. So they were, I gather, you talked about Stonewall a little bit, but they weren't just serving great drinks either. No, they weren't serving great drinks. They were, it wasn't a typical gay bar. And by the means, it was a place that they were, what they called street kids. They hung out on the street and had no place to go. And didn't go to the regular bars and stuff. A lot of them were too young. And a lot of them were too effeminate. And people didn't want to deal with them. And so Stonewall basically became a haven, you know, for people who wouldn't be allowed in other bars or have really had no place to go. And so they didn't spend a lot of, they didn't, I'm sorry.

Can we express their story over again? Can you tell us if you want to talk about that for a minute or so? I'm sorry. I can't read a call. I can't make it work. I'm a daughter of your father. I'm just going to disappear a little bit. Okay. Oh, should we need a statement again? A funny stuff. Good one. Good one. Yeah. Well. And you know, I think just take your time. Okay. You know, I'd love your impression. Can you describe walking into your going out for a night at the Stonewall? Well, I only went to the Stonewall West. It wasn't a brother that I'd go to. I don't know too much about it. Okay. Do you remember there was dancing or not? Yeah, there was dancing. Yeah. Well, I can tell you a story about Stonewall. We wouldn't go on the air. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. My lover, my long-time lover. We've been together for 18 years. He came to New York and didn't have, you know, didn't have any skills or anything like that. And he was living on the streets basically.

Everybody lived, you know, hippie style in those days. And living from hand to mouth. And so he got a job and he was the first go-go boy ever hired a Stonewall. And he danced in a little cage wearing a jock strap and stuff. And Angela Druck, Angela wrote a book called The Homosexual Handbook, which came out in 1969 right before Stonewall was rated. And he talked about Stonewall. And he said that they had these go-go boys with a vacant expressions on their faces. And I showed her to Timothy and Timothy. This is vacant expression on my faces. He said, the first time I was in that cage up there, I looked down. And he said, there was a dwarf in a wheelchair with this little thing hanging out, masturbating. And after that, I never looked at the audience again. You know what it's right here? I mean, that's a while. That's an enormous amount of freedom for a group that couldn't even watch all hands in the street. Exactly, right. Yeah. Well, by the time Stonewall opened, things had cooled down a lot. Because the Managing Society started a way used to campaign.

And he got to produce entrapment. And we got Mayor Lindsey to outlaw entrapment, so they couldn't send plain clothes cups. They used to send plain clothes cups out from the white squad. And they would go to places where gay people congregated and stand around and make themselves available. They go to public toilets and sometimes expose themselves. And if you made a sexual offer to them, they would arrest you for homosexual solicitation. And the reason they did that is because they had a vice squad. And the vice squad was in charge of enforcing the drug laws and the gambling laws and the sex laws. And they had plain clothes cups who did this. And they were given an allowance to go out, so they could spend money and go into places. And the only way that the police department knew these guys were actually working, rather than taking the money and going home, was to give them quotas. And so they would go out and they would have to make a rest. And they would go out and they would step people up. Towards the end of the month, the Managing Society, who called us and would get you a lawyer of urine trouble. And at the end of the month, we get sometimes 20 and 30 calls

and 9 from people who claimed that they were entrapped by police officers. Because it was time for the quota. And they had to go out and arrest people. And they would go to the cups and go to court. And they'd sit on the witness and they'd make their testimony. And they'd tell the judge, they'd read off their little notebook thing. And one day I was in court with a lawyer friend of mine. And the lawyer went and spoke to the judge. And the judge, all of a sudden, realized that he said, hey, to the cop, if you've been here on three cases and you've told exactly the same story in all three cases, you're reading out of that book. What actually happened? You know? How did the cops treat people once they arrested? Well, they weren't always nasty. You know, they would take you down and they'd book you. And they'd keep you overnight, unless you put up a small amount of $25 or $50 something like a $50 bail, and then that should go. And it was only an offense. It wasn't a misdemeanor or a felony. It was only an offense.

It was like a parking ticket. You really walk away from it and get away with it sometimes. But it would go on your record. And then when you applied for a job, if they checked your police record, you wouldn't get hired. And so it affected, and it also affects your self-esteem. You've got to get an arrest record. And so we fought that very hard. And finally, Mayor Lindsay listened to us. And he had a meeting at the village gate. And he announced there would be no more police entrapment. In New York City. And it's so happened that other than the night of the meeting or the night before, some guy went into Julius's restaurant. And it was sitting in his own business. And the guy next to him started talking. The guy who went in was a clergyman from Justin Memorial Church. And he was sitting in Julius's, which was a mixed bar. And they were famous for their cheeseburgers and hamburgers. And he went in to get a sandwich. And he was eating his sandwich. And the guy next to him started talking. And they had this big conversation going. And finally, the clergyman said,

well, you know, I'm in this international conference saying, and so he's going to call me from England at 1230. And I have to be home. Why don't we go to my house and finish this conversation there? And I'm so sure. And so they got up and left. And when they come on the street, the other guy arrested the clergyman for homosexual solicitation. And it turned out that, you know, the minister at Justin Church was hired Moody, who was a personal friend of John Lindsay's. And so that really was the end of police interrapment. Things stopped then. Did you personally, why did you feel so strongly about the trap of immigration? Well, because I was working in the Managing Society, and we had this telephone line, and people would call it up. And I said, say, sometimes we get 20 or 30 calls a night. And I thought, this is totally outrageous. This is America. You don't treat people that way in this country, you know? This is the sort of thing they do. Dictatorships. Did the cops insurance? Did they ever go on drag? Did they ever go undercover? Yes, they were. The cops, I'm very often,

very often we go on drag. It was a, an initiation sort of thing for the vice squad. And they would put the cops in dresses and with makeup. And they usually weren't very convincing. And then they would photograph them and the photographs would be in the newspaper. They would see these cops like six or eight cops in drag. And they thought it was historically funny. And then they sent them out on the street, and of course they did make a rest, because you know, there's all these guys who cruise around looking for drag queens. And so there was this drag queen standing in the corner, so they go out and make a sexual offer, and they get busted. But you can go back to the newspaper, go back to the newspaper file, and see all these pictures. Did you have any news? And the, and the, I think it's called a mirror, or the Journal of American. We're very big on printing these pictures. That's incredible. The world was an incredible place in those days. Did you ever feel, okay, what was your role in the action this time? Well, I started out being, I was elected president, and then presidents couldn't succeed themselves

in the organization, and they liked my work and everything, so they changed the constitution, and made me the executive director, and so I kind of ran the thing for five, seven years, something like that. Do you have a pay for that? Where have you changed things? Okay. Okay. Some ways you changed things.