"[T]here must be sustained action by the police and the district attorney to stop the influx of homosexuals. Too many taverns cater to them openly. Only police action can drive them out of the city. It is to be hoped that the courts here will finally recognize this problem for what it is and before the situation so deteriorates that San Francisco finds itself as the complete haven for undesirables. The courts heretofore have failed to support the arresting and prosecuting authorities. Without the support of the courts, the police and the district attorney cannot attack the problem effectively." —San Francisco Examiner, 1954

By the 1950s, San Francisco had a distinct queer community, centered around Polk Street in the North of the city. But even as new queer spaces continued to appear and the community coalesced around these bars, governmental agencies worked to regulate and discipline queer life. A slew of new legislation in the 1950s radically changed the way queer people and places were policed. Media coverage of queer people also intensified during this period, resulting in an increasing public awareness of “abnormal” sexuality, and growing calls to policing agencies to crack the whip to protect American families.

In California, it was illegal for gay people to gather in public places, or be served a drink. There were fierce laws prescribing jail terms of up to ten years for committing a homosexual act. Legislation and homophobia meant queer people were already forced to be discreet about their sexuality, but police Vice Squads made concerted efforts to “catch” them. Police staked out homosexual hangouts and frequently raided gay bars, charging patrons with disorderly conduct, cross-dressing, and other minor offenses. By 1961, 40 to 60 people per week were charged in the San Francisco courts with some crime relating to their sexuality, and over a dozen gay bars had been shut down. The constant threat of raids also meant continual fear of exposure for gay people in San Francisco, as the names of arrestees were printed in the local newspaper, often outing them to employers and families.

“Straight cops patrol us, straight legislators govern us, straight employers keep us in line, straight money exploits us. We have pretended that everything is OK, because we haven’t been able to see how to change it — we’ve been afraid.” —Carl Wittman

The Castro as Battleground

As a gay enclave began to solidify in the formerly Irish-Catholic Eureka Valley in the 1960s, clashes between the new Castro residents and conservative police were common. Two radically different populations were now living in Eureka Valley. Straight residents fought back against the gay “onslaught” using violence and vandalism. An exclusive neighborhood business association, The Eureka Valley Merchants Association, conspired to out gay business owners. An early 1970s California Scene article noted that around Castro Street, “local residents have gotten uptight, the police are beginning to drop by the [gay] bars and roving gangs of youths (possibly taking their cue from their parents) are beating up gay guys on their way home at night.” 

In response to this harassment, the community began to organize. At a 1971 community meeting to elect a new chair for the Eureka Valley Police-Community Relations Council, around fifteen long-time neighborhood residents were drastically outnumbered by the 300 gay men who showed up to the meeting. One of the anti-gay candidates for the position said he was, "fed up with all the hand-holding in the streets. My wife and child can't go outside without being scandalized." However, the gay constituency elected their own candidate, a restaurant owner who served a predominantly gay clientele. The next month, a front-page article declared, "San Francisco's populous homosexual community, historically nonpolitical and inward looking, is in the midst of assembling a potentially powerful political machine."

For the next three years, tensions were high in the neighborhood. Toad Hall and other gay bars were repeatedly damaged in suspicious fires. In July 1973, the home of the pioneering gay Metropolitan Community Church (MCC) burned to the ground. Police continued to arrest gay men for dancing in bars and clubs and cruising in parks. By 1974, the Gay Activist Alliance had recorded sixty beatings of gay people citywide in a three-month period, with the Castro having the worst record of all.

Relations between the gay community and the SFPD only deteriorated further after the assassination of Supervisor Harvey Milk and Mayor George Moscone in 1978 by Dan White, a former police officer. When in May 1979 Dan White was convicted only of voluntary manslaughter — and not murder — initially peaceful  demonstrations turned to riots. Several hours after the riots had been contained, police officers made a retaliatory raid on a bar in the Castro wearing riot gear, beating several patrons badly.  

In the days that followed, the gay community’s leaders refused to apologize for the White Night Riots, and instead used their political power to help elect Diane Feinstein as mayor after she promised to appoint a pro-gay Chief of Police during her campaign. Feinstein followed through, and in the years that followed gay recruitment into the police force increased and tensions eased. But many other members of the queer community continue to have an uneasy relationship with law enforcement, particularly those who have experienced homophobic policing incidents in California.

Throughout the 1980s, policing, harassment, and discrimination continued to plague the Castro, reaching a flashpoint in 1989 with the Castro Sweep. On October 6, after a protest against government inaction on the AIDS crisis, police in riot gear violently cleared the streets of the Castro District, targeting activists – many from ACT UP – who were demanding better healthcare and protections for people living with HIV/AIDS. Officers used batons and excessive force against peaceful demonstrators, an act widely seen as an attempt to silence queer activism at a time of immense suffering.

The Fight on a National Stage

In the 1970s, as LGBTQ+ communities across the United States gained visibility and political power, a fierce backlash emerged in the form of anti-gay legislation. One of the most infamous figures in this movement was Anita Bryant, a singer and conservative activist who led the Save Our Children campaign in 1977 to overturn a Dade County, Florida ordinance that prohibited discrimination based on sexual orientation. Bryant’s campaign relied on fear-mongering rhetoric that portrayed gay men and lesbians as a threat to children, setting a precedent for future efforts to roll back LGBTQ+ rights nationwide.

In California, state senator John Briggs took inspiration from Bryant’s campaign and introduced the 1978 Briggs Initiative, which sought to ban gay and lesbian teachers from working in public schools. The initiative played on widespread anxieties about queer people as a corrupting influence on youth. However, it faced fierce opposition from activists, labor unions, and political figures like Harvey Milk. Their grassroots campaign successfully defeated the measure at the ballot box, marking a major victory for gay rights at a time when discrimination remained deeply entrenched.

The failure of the Briggs Initiative did not mark the end of efforts to restrict LGBTQ+ rights, but it was a crucial moment in the history of resistance. The fight against these measures galvanized a new generation of activists and strengthened alliances with other civil rights movements. Today, California’s reputation as a leader in LGBTQ+ protections is a direct result of the struggles and victories of the 1970s.

Want to Learn More? 

CITYWIDE HISTORIC CONTEXT STATEMENT FOR LGBTQ HISTORY IN SAN FRANCISCO, pp. 105 - 131

Season of the Witch, David Talbot.

Gayola: Police professionalization and the politics of San Francisco's gay bars, 1950-1968, Christopher Agee