Chapter 1
The Night That Changed America Forever
In the early morning hours of June 28, 1969, what began as a routine police raid on the Stonewall Inn in Greenwich Village ignited a revolution that would transform American society. The patrons of this Mafia-run gay bar-many of them street queens, hustlers, and marginalized youth-fought back against police harassment in an unprecedented display of resistance. What followed were six days of demonstrations that would birth the modern LGBTQ+ rights movement. Martin Duberman's "Stonewall" has become the definitive account of this watershed moment, following six individuals whose lives intersected with this pivotal event. When first published in 1993, the book was hailed by The Washington Post as "the most extensive study of the event and the times surrounding it," while The Nation called it "a vivid re-creation of an important moment in history." Beyond its scholarly significance, the book has achieved cultural icon status, inspiring the 2015 film "Stonewall" and becoming required reading in countless gender studies programs across America.
Chapter 2
Six Lives, One Revolution
Duberman's narrative brilliantly weaves together the stories of six individuals whose experiences collectively illuminate the pre-Stonewall era and the birth of gay liberation. Craig Rodwell, a Christian Scientist from Chicago who escaped an abusive home life to become a pioneering activist and bookstore owner; Yvonne Flowers (later Maua), a Black lesbian navigating both racism and homophobia while finding her political voice; Karla Jay, a Barnard student whose radicalization through feminism led her to the forefront of lesbian activism; Sylvia Rivera, a Hispanic street queen who began hustling at age eleven and later fought for transgender rights; Jim Fouratt, a charismatic actor and Yippie who brought countercultural flair to gay liberation; and Foster Gunnison Jr., a wealthy, cerebral organizer who meticulously documented the homophile movement.
Their diverse backgrounds reflect the complex tapestry of gay and lesbian life in the 1960s. Rodwell's early activism with the Mattachine Society represented the "homophile" approach of seeking respectability and incremental change. Flowers struggled to find community as both a Black woman and a lesbian. Jay's journey through academia and radical feminism exemplified the intellectual currents feeding the movement. Rivera's street survival and gender nonconformity highlighted the most marginalized elements of the community. Fouratt's theatrical activism bridged countercultural and gay liberation movements. And Gunnison's organizational skills provided structure to a movement often characterized by spontaneity.
What unites these disparate individuals is their shared experience of oppression in pre-Stonewall America, where homosexuality was classified as a mental illness, criminalized in every state, and grounds for job termination, housing discrimination, and social ostracism. Their stories reveal how personal struggles against shame and isolation gradually transformed into political consciousness and collective action.
Chapter 3
Growing Up Different in Postwar America
The formative years of Duberman's subjects reveal the painful isolation that characterized gay and lesbian youth in mid-century America. For Craig Rodwell, growing up at Chicago Junior School meant navigating intense emotional and sexual relationships with other boys while lacking any vocabulary to understand his feelings. When he fell deeply in love with a boy named Tony in seventh grade, their relationship was abruptly terminated after a school administrator made a comment about "faggots." This early rejection haunted Craig for years, fueling his later determination to create spaces where gay people could find community.
Yvonne Flowers grew up in the shadow of her formidable mother Theo, a Communist Party member and fierce advocate for racial equality. By age fourteen, Yvonne had developed two passionate interests: jazz and women. When she tried telling her family about her attraction to girls as early as age twelve, they simply ignored her announcements. Only years later did her mother accept her daughter's lesbianism, once assured it wouldn't interfere with Yvonne's "plans and dreams."
Karla Jay, raised in a Jewish household in Brooklyn, was a natural tomboy who preferred playing with boys and developed crushes on female camp counselors. Despite undiagnosed severe nearsightedness that initially landed her in classes for slow learners, Karla's academic potential emerged at the all-girl Bromley Institute. There, in an environment where girls were always the top students and newspaper editors, she developed the self-confidence that would later serve her in activism.
For Ray Rivera (later Sylvia), childhood was marked by abandonment and abuse. After his mother's suicide, Ray lived with his grandmother Viejita, who grew increasingly harsh with him, often beating him for his effeminate behavior. By age seven, Ray had begun sexual encounters, and by eleven, tired of beatings and mockery, he left home permanently for New York's Forty-second Street, where he would begin hustling and develop his identity as Sylvia.
Jim Fouratt's seminary experience ended abruptly when he was expelled for his homosexuality. Though devastated, Jim remained confident his sexuality wasn't sinful or compromised his relationship with God. Foster Gunnison Jr., from a wealthy but emotionally distant family, was aware of his homosexual orientation during his Columbia years but established a pattern of lifelong celibacy, with only one sexual experience in his mid-forties.
These early experiences reflect the profound isolation of queer youth in an era without role models, supportive communities, or even language to describe their feelings. Each found different survival strategies-Craig's defiant self-education about homosexuality, Yvonne's immersion in jazz culture, Karla's academic achievement, Sylvia's street family, Jim's artistic pursuits, and Foster's organizational work-that would later shape their approaches to activism.
Chapter 4
Finding Community in the Shadows
The early 1960s offered limited options for gay men and lesbians seeking community. Most found their way to urban centers where underground networks existed, though these spaces came with their own hierarchies and dangers. In New York, the gay bar scene was controlled by the Mafia, which paid off police to avoid raids while exploiting gay patrons with watered-down drinks at inflated prices. Despite these conditions, bars provided crucial gathering spaces in a hostile society.
Craig Rodwell discovered gay Chicago as a teenager, finding cruising spots at Clark and Division, Bughouse Square, department store bathrooms, and Marx's coffee shop where gay high schoolers gathered. After a police entrapment incident that sent his gentle pickup Frank to prison for five years, Craig was placed on probation requiring psychiatric treatment. Remarkably, he found one of the few psychiatrists who didn't view homosexuality as pathological. Through another older friend, Craig discovered gay publications like ONE and The Mattachine Review, sparking his determination to move to New York.
Yvonne navigated multiple worlds in New York-the Village's predominantly white lesbian bars (often facing racism from Mafia doormen), Harlem's more integrated gay scene, and occasionally the professional white lesbian world as a token Black guest. Unlike writer Audre Lorde who rejected butch/femme roles, Yvonne leaned butch (going by "Vonne"), cross-dressing both to claim male power and clearly signal her lesbian identity.
Sylvia Rivera arrived at "Forty-two" (Times Square) at age eleven to begin hustling. She and her boyfriend Gary turned tricks together, with Sylvia using clever techniques like a modified G-string with sewn-in wig hair to pass as female with clients. The dangers were constant-in one violent incident, a client discovered she was male and attacked her, leading to Sylvia firing a gun in self-defense.
Jim Fouratt found community in New York's theater world, studying at the prestigious Actors Studio under Lee Strasberg for seven years on full scholarship. He considered Strasberg a surrogate father who "changed my life" by helping him connect with his feelings. The Caffe Cino on Cornelia Street became particularly important as a space accepting of gay identity, hosting early works by playwrights like Lanford Wilson and Tom Eyen.
These fragile communities existed under constant threat of police raids, violence, and public exposure. The psychological toll of living double lives-professional by day, authentic only in hidden spaces by night-created patterns of substance abuse, depression, and internalized shame that many carried for decades. Yet these communities also fostered resilience, mutual support, and eventually the political consciousness that would fuel the movement for liberation.
Chapter 5
The Homophile Movement: Cautious Steps Toward Visibility
Before Stonewall, a small but determined "homophile" movement laid crucial groundwork for later activism. Organizations like the Mattachine Society (founded 1950) and Daughters of Bilitis (founded 1955) advocated for homosexuals through education, legal reform, and challenging the psychiatric establishment's classification of homosexuality as a mental illness.
Foster Gunnison became deeply involved in this movement, applying his organizational talents to creating national structures through the East Coast Homophile Organizations (ECHO) and the North American Conference of Homophile Organizations (NACHO). Foster's approach emphasized respectability, careful planning, and working within existing systems-a strategy that would soon be challenged by more radical activists.
Craig Rodwell initially worked within Mattachine but grew frustrated with its conservative approach. In 1967, he opened the Oscar Wilde Memorial Bookshop, the first gay bookstore in America. Despite working seventy-hour weeks and facing constant harassment-from columnist Harriet Van Horne comparing it to "skin-flicks," to anonymous phone threats, to swastikas and "Kill Fags" graffiti on the storefront-Craig created a vital community resource. Beyond selling books, the store served as a community hub with its bulletin board, headquarters for Craig's Homophile Youth Movement, and as an informal counseling center.
The homophile movement achieved modest victories, such as the "sip-in" protest at Julius' bar in 1966. When the bartender refused to serve activists after they declared themselves homosexuals, Mattachine filed a complaint with the State Liquor Authority. The following year, New York's Appellate Division ruled that serving homosexuals was not equivalent to running "a disorderly house" and bars' licenses could only be revoked with "substantial evidence" of indecent behavior.
Despite these gains, police harassment and entrapment continued. Mattachine maintained a list of willing lawyers but removed notorious attorneys like Gertrude "Dirty Gertie" Gottlieb and Enid Gerling from their referral list after discovering they were likely colluding with police for a cut of their standard two-thousand-dollar fees. Even under "liberal" Mayor John Lindsay, police campaigns to rid Times Square and Washington Square Park of "undesirables" continued.
By the late 1960s, tensions were growing within the homophile movement. Foster Gunnison's concerns about "leftwingers" and "infiltrators" who might "jeopardize social acceptance" intensified. He opposed the view that prejudice against homosexuality was merely one manifestation of society's unhealthy attitude toward sex in general. Similarly, he rejected the notion that "anything goes so long as no one else is being 'harmed,'" seeing it as an implied rejection of conventional authority.
These philosophical divisions reflected broader social upheavals of the late 1960s. As the country was transformed by civil rights demonstrations, Vietnam War protests, and countercultural challenges to conformity, younger gay activists grew impatient with the cautious approach of homophile organizations. The stage was being set for a more confrontational politics of liberation.
Chapter 6
The Spark: Inside the Stonewall Uprising
The Stonewall Inn at 53 Christopher Street epitomized everything Craig Rodwell found wrong with gay bars. When a hepatitis outbreak occurred among gay men in early 1969, Craig blamed it on Stonewall's unsanitary practices-the bar had no running water, merely two stagnant vats where glasses were quickly dipped before reuse. Craig and Jim Fouratt both viewed Stonewall as "a real dive, an awful, sleazy place."
Despite its unsavory elements, Stonewall had become Greenwich Village's most popular gay bar during its two-and-a-half years-the only place where gay men could dance, drawing a diverse clientele from tweedy East Siders to street queens. The Stonewall was taken over in 1966 by three Mafia figures who grew up together in Little Italy: "Mario" (the manager), Zucchi (who also dealt in firecrackers), and "Fat Tony" Lauria (the controlling partner who invested $2,000 of the $3,500 startup). They operated Stonewall as a "bottle club" to circumvent liquor licensing laws, spending barely $1,000 on renovations.
Inside Stonewall, the main bar featured Maggie Jiggs and Tommy Long serving drinks beneath pulsating gel lights. On weekends, a scantily clad go-go boy danced in a gilded cage atop the bar. Beyond this was a spacious dance floor, lit with black lights. Should police arrive unexpectedly, white bulbs would instantly illuminate the dance area, signaling everyone to stop dancing or touching.
When police raided the Stonewall in the early morning hours of June 28, 1969, something unprecedented happened. Instead of quietly submitting to arrest and humiliation, patrons fought back. Accounts differ on who threw the first punch or bottle, but the resistance quickly escalated. Protesters uprooted a parking meter to use as a battering ram, threw bricks, bottles, garbage, and even bags of dog excrement at police. Deputy Inspector Seymour Pine and his officers found themselves trapped inside Stonewall as the crowd grew increasingly militant.
The Tactical Police Force arrived to disperse the crowd, but demonstrations continued for several nights. What had begun as a routine raid had ignited years of accumulated rage at police harassment, discrimination, and societal rejection. The Stonewall uprising wasn't the first instance of gay resistance-earlier confrontations had occurred in Los Angeles and San Francisco-but it captured public attention and catalyzed a new, more militant phase of the movement.
The response from established homophile organizations was initially critical. Dick Leitsch of Mattachine Society blamed Craig Rodwell for the riots, while Randy Wicker condemned the violence, arguing that "rocks through windows don't open doors." But younger activists recognized the transformative potential of this spontaneous rebellion. Within days, they would begin organizing a new kind of movement that rejected assimilation in favor of liberation.
Chapter 7
Birth of Gay Liberation: From Riot to Revolution
Just days after Stonewall, a meeting was called at the Electric Circus nightclub, advertised with flyers promising relief from "raids, Mafia control, and checks at the front door." When Dick Leitsch of Mattachine Society rejected Michael Brown's vision of alliance between gays, blacks, and antiwar activists, insisting that maintaining good relations with authorities took priority, the seeds of a new organization were planted.
Between meetings, Brown, Martha Shelley, Jim Fouratt and others organized a demonstration supporting jailed Black Panthers. Needing a sponsor name that wouldn't implicate Mattachine, they spontaneously created "Gay Liberation Front" in homage to liberation struggles in Algeria and Vietnam. At the second Mattachine meeting, Leitsch again advocated moderation while Jim Fouratt demanded that gays "stop asking and start demanding." The young radicals realized they needed to abandon Mattachine and focus on developing the Gay Liberation Front.
The Gay Liberation Front (GLF) represented a radical departure from the homophile approach. It affirmed sexual pleasure as positive, condemned the nuclear family as a "detention center for women and children," and viewed monogamy as unnatural. GLF explicitly connected gay oppression to other systems of domination, including capitalism, racism, and imperialism. This comprehensive critique distinguished it from earlier, single-issue approaches to homosexual rights.
Karla Jay, who had been radicalized through feminist organizing with Redstockings, found in GLF the spiritual home she'd been searching for-combining substantive social change with acceptance of lesbianism. Unlike Redstockings, GLF welcomed women and men struggling together rather than separately. It appealed to her millenarian belief that the corrupt world could be cleansed through action and optimism.
Not everyone embraced GLF's revolutionary politics. In December 1969, nineteen people gathered in writer Arthur Bell's Greenwich Village apartment to establish the Gay Activists Alliance (GAA). This new organization represented institutionalized dissent from GLF's philosophy, declaring itself "completely and solely dedicated" to securing basic rights for homosexuals-unlike GLF with its broader concern for all forms of minority oppression.
While GAA embraced militant, confrontational tactics like "zaps"-lightning-quick confrontations with offending institutions-it sought acceptance within the existing institutional structure rather than attempting to transform it as GLF intended. Within a year, GAA had disrupted Household Finance offices for refusing loans to homosexuals, demonstrated for marriage rights at the county clerk's office, and traveled throughout the region to protest gay-bashing, employment discrimination, and lobby for statewide gay-rights legislation.
Both organizations contributed to an explosion of gay and lesbian visibility and activism in the immediate post-Stonewall period. The movement's growth was exponential-by 1973, nearly eight hundred gay and lesbian organizations existed across the country, compared with fewer than fifty in 1969.
Chapter 8
Intersections and Divisions: Race, Gender, and Class
Despite its revolutionary rhetoric, the gay liberation movement struggled with many of the same divisions that plagued American society at large. Yvonne Flowers ventured to the GAA Firehouse despite never having previously belonged to a liberationist organization. Her experience proved both confirmatory and surprising-confirming her sense that the gay movement had largely failed to attract people of color, while surprising her that at least some black faces were present.
The numbers were small but marked progress from the homophile movement, where virtually no black person had played a prominent role in organizations like Mattachine or DOB. Yvonne had once attended a DOB meeting in the early sixties and been repelled by the white women's reactions-first shock, then supercilious casualness. With GLF and GAA, the gay world became somewhat more integrated, though gay blacks still felt sufficiently marginalized to form their own Third World Caucus.
Yvonne and her black lesbian friends made multiple attempts at forming their own organization. By early 1970, the movement toward separate identity-based organizing had gained momentum. Black Power had weakened integrationist civil rights groups, while in the gay movement, women of color were separating from white women, and lesbians from gay men. Despite some men in GLF supporting women's issues, many couldn't shed their assumptions of male superiority. Meanwhile, lesbians felt merely tolerated rather than welcomed by straight feminists.
For Yvonne, neither movement fully embraced her identity. The black movement rejected both her strength and sexuality, while the white gay movement inadequately addressed race issues. She determined that sanity required finding community with those who accepted all aspects of her being-her black lesbian sisters.
Sylvia Rivera faced similar marginalization despite her central role in the Stonewall riots. As a Hispanic street queen, she embodied multiple categories of Otherness that triggered middle-class white discomfort-her darker skin, passionate fractured English, and gender presentation made her a constant transgressor of encoded social scripts. Despite frequent rejection, Sylvia persisted, throwing herself into "actions" with fierce determination.
With Marsha P. Johnson, Sylvia founded STAR (Street Transvestite Action Revolutionaries) to help homeless drag queens and transgender youth. They established STAR House, where Sylvia cooked proper meals and conducted Santeria rituals before the youth went out at night. Despite promises of help, STAR House struggled to survive. Few GAA members showed up to help with renovations, and when Sylvia requested to rent GAA's stereo equipment for a STAR benefit dance, they refused, claiming "we're not in the rental business."
These tensions reflected broader questions about the movement's priorities and constituencies. Would it focus narrowly on civil rights for middle-class, predominantly white gay men and lesbians? Or would it pursue a more comprehensive transformation of society that addressed multiple, intersecting oppressions? These debates continue to shape LGBTQ+ politics today.
Chapter 9
The First Pride: Commemorating Stonewall
The first anniversary of Stonewall presented an opportunity to demonstrate the movement's growing strength and visibility. Craig Rodwell proposed a march to commemorate the uprising, replacing the Annual Reminder pickets that had been held in Philadelphia on July 4th since 1965. Despite opposition from more conservative elements who feared confrontation, planning proceeded for what would be called Christopher Street Liberation Day.
Foster Gunnison approached the event with his characteristic organizational thoroughness, while Craig handled negotiations with police and city officials. The march would proceed from Washington Place up Sixth Avenue to Central Park, where a "gay-in" would be held in the Sheep Meadow. Unlike the Annual Reminder, with its strict dress code and decorum, this march would embrace the full diversity of the gay and lesbian community.
On June 28, 1970, approximately two thousand people gathered for the march-twice the size organizers had anticipated. Karla Jay, wearing a modest lavender T-shirt, laughed at her own conservatism when she encountered friends in more daring attire. Yvonne woke late with a hangover, finally overcoming her ambivalence to drive from Brooklyn to join the march. Finding the parade already departed from Washington Place, she hurried uptown, catching up with marchers near Macy's at Thirty-fourth Street. Being pulled into the march became a turning point: "It was clear to me from then on that it could no longer be just about partying. I had to save and protect myself by committing to my own liberation."
Though marshals kept the march moving quickly due to fears of hostility, spectators were largely supportive or neutral. Many watching from sidewalks were clearly closeted gay people silently or vocally encouraging the marchers with the implicit message "You're doing it for us." The main annoyance came from tourists taking photos of marchers like they were exotic specimens.
After just over an hour, the marchers reached Central Park. Foster arrived huffing but elated, Craig couldn't stop smiling, Sylvia continued leading chants, Yvonne was in exhausted tears, and Jim wept as he stood on a rise looking back at the line stretching fifteen blocks: "I saw what we had done. It was remarkable. There we were in all of our diversity."
Simultaneous marches were held in Los Angeles, Chicago, and San Francisco, establishing what would become an annual tradition of pride celebrations. By the following year, commemorations would spread to London and Paris, growing into the global phenomenon we know today as Pride Month.
Chapter 10
Legacy and Unfinished Revolution
Fifty years after Stonewall, the movement that emerged from that hot summer night has transformed American society in ways both profound and incomplete. Legal victories have secured marriage equality, employment protections, and the repeal of sodomy laws. Cultural representation has expanded dramatically, with LGBTQ+ characters and stories now commonplace in mainstream media. The psychiatric establishment no longer classifies homosexuality as a mental illness, and public opinion has shifted dramatically toward acceptance.
Yet Duberman's epilogue, added to the 2019 edition, expresses disappointment that subsequent years failed to produce change on the scale envisioned around Stonewall. The Gay Rights National Lobby, founded in 1976, evolved into the Human Rights Campaign, taking a centrist stance focused on military service and marriage rights-an implicit endorsement of institutions GLF abhorred. As today's queer activists resist continuing oppression, Duberman urges them to draw inspiration from those who first fought back and "dared to envision a profound shift in our society."
The six individuals whose stories Duberman chronicles continued their journeys in diverse ways. Yvonne Flowers remained politically active throughout the 1970s with Black Women for Wages for Housework, the National Black Feminist Organization, and the Center for Women's Development at Medgar Evers College. She reclaimed her African-American heritage by changing her name to Maua ("Flowers" in Swahili) before her death in 1995.
Jim Fouratt never ceased his political activism, dividing time between New York and Los Angeles while serving as a founding board member of both the Lesbian and Gay Community Services Center in New York and Wipe Out AIDS. Foster Gunnison gradually left the gay liberation movement except for his archival work, which resulted in an important collection now housed at the University of Connecticut library. He died in 1994.
Karla Jay returned east to begin teaching English at Pace University in 1974, completed her doctorate in comparative literature in 1984, and rose to full professor. Her publications include the groundbreaking anthology Out of the Closets and memoir Tales of the Lavender Menace. Sylvia Rivera quit the gay movement in 1973 following a bruising struggle over her right to speak at that year's Gay Pride Day. In her final years, she renewed her political activism and became an iconic figure in the trans movement before her death from liver cancer in 2002.
Craig Rodwell remained the proprietor of the Oscar Wilde Memorial Bookshop in Greenwich Village for decades until rising rent forced him to sell. Throughout his life, he maintained respect for Mary Baker Eddy's teachings and in 1978 helped create Gay People in Christian Science. Craig died of cancer in 1993.
Their collective legacy is a movement that continues to evolve, facing new challenges while building on the foundation laid at Stonewall. The tension between assimilation and liberation, between single-issue politics and broader social transformation, remains unresolved. But the courage of those who first dared to resist-from homophile pioneers to street queens to gay liberationists-created possibilities for authenticity and community that previous generations could scarcely imagine.
