The Stonewall Uprising

It's June 28, 1969, around 1 a.m.

on a hot night in New York City.

28-year-old Raymond Castro laughs and drinks with friends in the back of the dingy, dimly lit Stonewall Inn.

A few feet away, queer and trans people fill the dance floor.

The illicit, mafia-owned bar in Greenwich Village is one of the few places in the city where Raymond feels safe as a gay man.

But tonight, the revelry is ruined when the music suddenly stops and the lights come on.

Raymond and his friends freeze.

As someone pushes him from behind, uttering him into a back room, it dawns on Raymond that this is a raid.

Police raids on the Stonewall are not uncommon, but usually there's warning.

Tonight is different.

Raymond's heart races as he's asked to hand over his ID.

The police eventually release him and several others to the street outside, but a few of his friends are held behind.

On the street in front of the Stonewall, Raymond sees a police van parked on the sidewalk and joins a growing crowd of concerned onlookers.

Through the commotion, he spots a young friend still inside and starts to panic.

He knows his friend has no ID and will likely be arrested, but Raymond is prepared with a fake one.

He just has to get it to his friend.

Raymond makes his way through the crowd and back toward the entrance of the Stonewall.

When out of nowhere, two plain clothes officers appear and grab each of his arms.

He struggles against them as they force him toward the open sliding door of the police van.

As he's being dragged away, the crowd grows larger and more agitated.

Bottles and rocks fly through the air.

Adrenaline pumping, Raymond jumps up into the van and then throws his body back, knocking the two officers to the ground.

That's when chaos erupts.

Four officers pounce on Raymond and handcuff his hands behind his back.

Police scramble to make arrests and contain the crowd, but after decades of harassment and discrimination, the queer and trans bargoers have had enough.

In the late 1960s, New York City outlawed homosexual activity in public and private businesses.

A campaign instituted by the mayor sought to shut down all illicit gay bars, but many, including the Stonewall Inn, are able to remain open via payments to police by their mafia owners.

But at the end of the decade, raids escalate and tensions reach a breaking point, culminating in the Stonewall Uprising, which will ignite the modern fight for LGBTQ rights in the early morning hours of June 28, 1969.

From Noiser and Airship, I'm Lindsay Graham, and this is History Daily.

History is made every day.

On this podcast, every day, we tell the true stories of the people and events that shaped our world.

Today is June 28th, 1969, the Stonewall Uprising.

It's nearly 2 a.m.

on June 28th, 1969, in Brooklyn, New York.

Across the East River in Manhattan, police have just raided the Stonewall Inn.

Jerry Hoos sits on a couch in his mother's apartment, quietly leafing through a worn-out paperback.

It's a departure from the 23-year-old's typical Friday night.

Jerry loves to go out and is a familiar face in the underground gay bar scene of Greenwich Village.

After realizing he was gay at the age of 15, Jerry set out to find a community of his own.

He'd heard that Greenwich Village was the place to be, and on his first visit, he found his people.

From then on, he spent as much time in the village as he could.

He fit in best with the so-called street kids, many of whom were openly gay, had been rejected by their families, and had nothing to lose.

But because gay bars are illegal in New York, most of Jerry's hangouts are run by crime families who pay cops to look the other way.

Every once in a while, law enforcement enters a bar, turns on the lights, breaks up any same-sex dancing, checks some IDs, collects their bribes, and then carries on.

For both the NYPD and the mafia, it's a lucrative business.

And Jerry is no stranger to the police and their raids.

He's been arrested, held overnight in jail without explanation, and beaten with billy clubs.

By the summer of 1969, his anger over this treatment is reaching a breaking point.

But on this quiet night, Jerry is calm until the phone rings slicing through the silence.

Jerry is startled by the late-night call.

As he rushes to answer, his best friend's frantic voice crackles down the line.

You've got to get down here right now.

There's a riot at the Stonewall.

Within minutes, Jerry is out the door and on a train from Manhattan.

When he arrives, an unprecedented scene greets him.

A chaotic crowd has taken over the corner of Christopher Street outside the Stonewall Inn.

Jerry's mouth hangs open at one site in particular, a Rockette-style kick line of drag queens, makeup smeared with sweat and defiance, staring down the New York City Tactical Police Force and chanting, we are the Stonewall girls.

We wear our hair and curls.

We wear no underwear.

We show our pubic hair.

We wear our dungarees above our Nelly knees.

It's a strikingly camped spectacle against the backdrop of an impressive force, a slap in the face to the authorities who have long held them down.

The display enrages the NYPD, who beat, tackle and handcuff whoever they can get their hands on.

In return, the crowd made up of regular bar goers and passersby hurls insults, coins, rocks and bottles at the officers.

This is not the typical submissive response to a police raid.

This is resistance, and Jerry loves it.

Without a moment's hesitation, he joins the fray, lobbing a loose stone toward the officers.

His heart hammers in his chest.

The spirit of rebellion is contagious, and Jerry finds himself swept up and feeling part of something bigger than himself.

But he wants to direct this energy in a way that will create real change.

He screams at the crowd to march to City Hall, but Jerry's voice is drowned out by the chaos.

The violence rages until 4 a.m., and the uprising takes on a life of its own.

For the next six days, Greenwich Village becomes a battleground.

Protests gain steam in the afternoon, and nightfall ushers in more violent demonstrations.

Jerry is there every step of the way, overturning cars, ripping parking meters out of the ground, and taking a stand against the status quo.

It's the most exciting and hopeful event of his young life.

But when the uprising finally loses momentum, and the crowds dwindle, the heavy depression settles over Jerry.

He's felt the power of rebellion, the strength of collective resistance.

Now he wonders if it was all just a fleeting moment in time, a blip in history soon forgotten.

Fear creeps in.

The fear that their efforts and their struggle could fade away without leaving a significant mark.

But amidst the disappointment and uncertainty, one thing is clear.

Something has shifted within Jerry.

He can't go back to the way things were.

The riot might be over, but the fight has only begun.

As the dawn of a new era approaches, Jerry will strive to meet it, the echoes of Stonewall propelling him forward.

Unbeknownst to him, the streets of Greenwich Village will soon become the backdrop of a revolution, one that will reverberate far beyond the confines of Christopher Street.

It's early July 1969 in Manhattan.

Jerry Hoos steps down Christopher Street a week after the electrifying Stonewall uprising.

His mind is still racing with scenes of defiance and relishing the taste of rebellion.

Yet a shadow of melancholy has settled over him.

The powerful uprising once a roaring fire has fizzled into embers.

The streets are quiet now.

The adrenaline of resistance is replaced by the familiar hum of everyday life.

As he walks, lost in thought, Jerry stumbles upon a group handing out leaflets.

They're members of the Mattachene Action Committee, a well-established gay rights group.

They're planning a meeting tonight, hoping to form a new, more militant organization.

The glint in their eyes and the conviction in their voices rekindle something in Jerry.

He takes a leaflet, curiosity stirring inside him.

That night, Jerry decides to attend the meeting, and when he arrives, the room is already buzzing with energy, filled with people like him who have felt the rush of standing up to oppression and craving further action.

But as the meeting gets underway, chaos abounds.

People shout over one another, and it's unclear if anyone can agree on anything, let alone what to call their new coalition.

But by the end of the night, a name is chosen, and the Gay Liberation Front, or GLF, is born.

Despite the discord of the meeting, Jerry's hope is revived.

The GLF may be a chance to make real change, and for the Stonewall Uprising to be just the start of something much larger.

In the months that follow, the GLF stages numerous demonstrations.

From protests against anti-gay job discrimination, to demands for an end to police harassment, Jerry is there, marching, shouting and fighting.

It's messy and chaotic, but he loves being part of a movement alive with passion and conviction.

Yet the GLF continues to be a turbulent group, made up of people with diverse views and approaches.

The rowdiness and discord can't last.

Amid disagreements over tactics and philosophy, personality clashes and the sheer exhaustion of maintaining a revolutionary fervor, the GLF disbands within a few months.

But the flame it ignited in Jerry does not flicker out.

In the aftermath of the GLF's dissolution, Jerry finds himself at a crossroads.

He could retreat to the relative safety of the underground scene, or he could continue the fight.

He chooses the latter, having seen the camaraderie, the raw power of unity, the profound impact of standing up against the establishment.

He's not ready to give up.

Over the course of the next year, Jerry throws himself into the burgeoning gay rights movement.

He joins more protests, speaks at rallies, and helps organize events.

And during this time, there's a shift in the atmosphere.

The movement gains traction, more people join, and more voices are heard.

Jerry finds himself in the middle of it all, tirelessly working to maintain the momentum.

It's a challenging time, but also an exciting one.

The possibility of real, lasting change feels tangible, just within reach.

And on the morning of June 28, 1970, one year after the Stonewall uprising, Jerry stands on Christopher Street outside the Stonewall Inn.

He is surrounded by hundreds of others feeling the same excitement and anticipation.

It's the first ever Pride Parade, officially named the Christopher Street Liberation Day March.

Jerry has spent the last several months helping organize it, and when the clock strikes noon, it's time to start moving.

The protesters march north up 6th Avenue without a police permit, prepared for a confrontation.

Bracing for the worst, many participants have even taken self-defense classes, but no conflict arises.

When he reaches 23rd Street, Jerry turns and looks behind him.

He sees a crowd of thousands stretching all the way back to Christopher Street, about 16 city blocks.

He smiles and tears well in his eyes.

Today, they're not hiding in a dingy bar or fighting in the dead of night.

They're marching in broad daylight for all the world to see.

From this day forward, every year on the anniversary of the Stonewall Riots, the streets of New York will be flooded with the vibrant colors of pride.

Similar marches will spring up across the globe, transforming June into a worldwide pride month.

Over the coming decades, the road to equality will be long and winding, marked by moments of joy and periods of struggle, and it will lead Jerry to places he never dreamed of reaching.

Thank.

It's June 30th, 2009.

40 years after the Stonewall uprising, Jerry Hoos finds himself in a place he never thought possible, the White House.

He is one of 250 leaders of the LGBTQ plus movement invited by President Barack Obama to commemorate the event that sparked a revolution.

The anticipation in the room is palpable, a mix of nervous excitement and deep reflection.

They are not here to celebrate their progress, but to honor the battles they fought, the comrades they've lost, and acknowledge the road that lies ahead.

Jerry wanders through the grand halls of the White House, a stark contrast to the gritty streets of Greenwich Village, where he once threw stones at police in a desperate bid for freedom.

He can hardly believe the trajectory of his life, from a street kid at the center of a riot to a guest in the house of the President of the United States.

Ten minutes before the main event, Jerry grows even more astonished when he's informed that he is one of ten leaders chosen for a private meeting with President Obama.

The news hits him like a wave, leaving him momentarily breathless.

He turns to his longtime friend and fellow activist Tommy Schmidt, struggling to put his disbelief into words.

He asks Tommy, Would you have believed 40 years ago that we'd wind up in this position about to meet the President?

Tommy simply shakes his head.

In a whirlwind meeting, President Obama and First Lady Michelle Obama both greet Jerry and the other leaders, expressing their pride in their years of activism.

As Jerry leaves the White House reeling from the experience, he feels a profound sense of progress.

The fight is far from over, but they've come a long way.

From the shadows of the Stonewall Inn to the halls of the White House, they've made their voices heard.

Jerry knows the struggle isn't over.

There are more battles to be fought, more rights to be won.

But for now, he takes a moment to appreciate the journey.

Today, he got to shake hands with the president of the United States as a key player in a movement that changed the world.

It's a far cry from 40 years ago when he was just a young man searching for community in the streets of Manhattan, caught for a fight in front of the Stonewall Inn for his right to exist on June 28, 1969.

Next, on History Daily, June 29th, 1613, during a performance of William Shakespeare's King Henry VIII, the famous Globe Theatre burns to the ground.

From Noiser and Airship, this is History Daily.

Hosted, edited, and executive produced by me, Lindsay Graham.

Sound design by Katrina Zemrak.

Music by Lindsay Graham.

This episode is written and researched by Cody Hoffmacher.

Executive producers are Alexandra Curry-Buchner for Airship, and Pascal Hughes for Noiser.