Would anybody like to read a short story I wrote about the Stonewall Riots?

If there is enough interest, I'd be more than happy to share.

 

I'll just go ahead and post it.

---------- Post added 20th Jul 2011 at 05:43 PM ----------

The Stonewall Inn, despite the unassuming name, was definitely not an inn. To the population of Greenwich Village, Stonewall Inn was the gay bar. Not only did it serve good booze (without a license), but it held the distinction of being the only gay bar in New York City that offered dancing. With the pitch-black walls and the radiating black lights, the Stonewall Inn offered its patrons a sense of false anonymity as they drank, danced and flirted. They employed a doorman, of course, to keep away the “Lily Law,” or the plainclothes policemen that would try to enter. Nobody wanted the police in the bar, what with raids becoming more and more commonplace. See, the Stonewall Inn never claimed to be a legal enterprise. In the year of 1969, any gay bar in America could be subject to raids. Hence, the doorman. If he did not know somebody, or they did not look queer enough, they did not get in. Simple as that. That didn’t stop people from coming, though. Business was always good during the summer, and this year was no exception. The log book in the ante room boasted two hundred signatures beneath the heading “June 26, 1969.”

Dennis was fortunate. The doorman on call tonight frequented the small café he worked at during the day. He had waved Dennis through almost immediately. If he hadn’t known the doorman tonight, Dennis doubted he would have gotten in. He didn’t exactly fit the queer stereotype. Standing just over five-foot-eleven, Dennis almost seemed average. He found the idea of “camping himself up” just to get into a gay bar silly, preferring instead to wear normal clothes. He’d been denied entrance once before, the doorman that night claiming that he did not look queer enough. Apparently, gay men did not wear loafers, khakis and sweater-vests…

Dennis nodded towards the bartender and ducked into the club, wandering over to the bar. Sitting down on a stool, he waved the bartender over and ordered a beer. Cheers, he thought to himself as he twisted off the cap and took a sip. That night, Dennis had gone to the Stonewall Inn to celebrate his six-month anniversary. Alone. Six months ago he and his boyfriend had parted ways. Thinking back on the relationship, Dennis had no problem picking out all of his ex’s annoying little habits that had eventually driven him over the edge. Taking another sip of his beer, Dennis let his mind wander, thoughts of his once-perfect relationship filling his head.

———-

Behind Dennis, two women wandered through the front door, taking in the darkness through narrowed eyes. They sauntered around the building, watching the dancers, never joining in. The taller woman leaned over and whispered something in her partner’s ear. Removing a notebook from her purse, the shorter woman nodded. She freed the pencil that held her brown hair in a loose bun and flipped her notebook open, ready to take note.

———-

A hand came to rest on Dennis’ shoulder, spinning him around on his barstool. Dennis suddenly found himself face to face with a handsome young man with pitch-black hair styled a la Paul McCartney. His clothes hugged his body closely, accentuating his sharp features and his toned muscles. He was perfection. And Dennis could not stand him. “Go away, Russell. I’m not in the mood to deal with you tonight. I just want to sit here by myself and drink my beer. Is that really too much to ask?” He tried to turn around, but Russell’s hand kept a firm grip on his shoulder, pinning him in place.

“It’s our six-month anniversary,” Russell said. “Did you think I wouldn’t be here to celebrate it?” Russell let go of Dennis’ shoulder and flopped down on the barstool beside him. “One beer, please!”

Dennis shook his head in disbelief. He had planned on celebrating this anniversary alone. The last thing he wanted to do was talk to Russell about their relationship. They would only end up arguing, and Dennis was not in the mood for confrontation tonight. He only wanted to be left alone.

———-

Two men walked calmly into the Stonewall Inn. Looking around, they caught the eyes of the two women. Careful not to draw attention to themselves, the four made their way to an unoccupied corner. The shorter woman pulled out her notebook again, showing its contents to the other three. The two men calmly produced notebooks of their own. After a period of short debate, the woman put the notebook back in her purse and left the group, making her way to the pay phones.

———-

Russell sipped his beer, holding the glass bottle gingerly, as if a tight grip would cause the neck to break off. “You know, Den, you should lighten up a little. You’re always so serious. Do you realize how hard it was to be in a relationship with somebody who doesn’t know how to take a joke?”

Dennis glared at his ex, frustration already beginning to build up. “One of us had to be serious, and it sure as hell wasn’t going to be you! We never had one serious conversation. You were too busy shrugging things off and turning life into a joke!”

Russell sighed. “This is exactly what I’m talking about, Den!” He spun his barstool so that he was facing Dennis. “You’re too anal! Learn how to have fun, for crying out loud! There are more things to life than bills, taxes and work. Loosen up.”

Dennis shook his head. Russell was just a kid in a grown-up’s body. Dennis seriously doubted he even knew the meaning of the word responsibility. “Life isn’t all fun and games, either,” he retorted. “If you don’t think about the serious stuff, then all you’re doing is living in denial!” Dennis signaled the bartender and ordered another beer. This was going to be a long night.

———-

A fleet of squad cars sat outside the Stonewall Inn. A team of eight officers prepared to enter, having received evidence of public indecency. The rest of the cars belonged to the Public Morals Squad. On the signal, the eight burst through the front door, yelling, “Police! We’re taking this place!” Mass confusion broke out as the lights were turned on. Those who had never experienced a raid before stood confused on the dance floor. The smart ones bolted for the nearest exit.

Unnoticed in the chaos, the two women slipped out the front door, followed closely by the men. They nodded to the officers standing outside, then slipped quietly into the night.

———-

Everybody lined up. Dennis groaned as an officer walked over to him and pulled him off the stool. “Get in line!” Dennis obeyed grudgingly, anger building inside of him. He had just wanted to celebrate his anniversary in peace, but so far nothing had turned out right; first Russell, now this. He turned to his ex. “Laugh your way out of this, Russell.”

Another officer traveled down the line, stopping directly in front of Russell. “Show me your I.D., sir.”

Russell, about to respond to Dennis’ jab, turned and faced the officer. “I don’t think I will, sir. You see, I’m in the middle of a conversation with my ex-boyfriend, so I don’t have time to cater to your needs at the moment.” He crossed his arms defiantly.

Dennis shrunk back. Russell was getting himself in trouble, as usual. Glancing down the line, he saw other patrons staring openmouthed at Russell. Nobody had ever dared to defy an officer during a raid before. Most times, people produced their I.D. and got the hell out. This was new. This was bold. This was daring! This was, without a doubt, the stupidest thing Russell had ever done! “Russell, what do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m being serious!”

“You’re being stupid!”

Russell shook his head. The officer asked again for his identification, and Russell spat at his feet. The officer slapped him, knocking Russell to the floor. A few well-placed kicks left Russell bleeding and gasping for breath. “That’ll teach you to spit at an officer,” said the man.

Russell clutched his chest, trying to find air. The officer turned to Dennis. “You’re free to go, sir.” Dennis nodded, turning to leave. A moan came from the floor. Dennis looked down. Russell looked up at him, begging him silently not to leave. Dennis shook his head slowly. “Grow up, Russell.” That said, he turned on his heels and walked to the front door.

———-

A crowd had gathered outside the Stonewall Inn. It began with people who had escaped the raid and decided to stick around. When the police started releasing people, the crowd grew into a mob. By the time the police led their prisoners to the squad cars, the crowd went wild. The released patrons saluted the police with limp wrists, bystanders started yelling any slogan they could hink of, one person even started singing “We Shall Overcome.” When the rumors of police brutality inside the bar started spreading, the crowd transformed from wild to dangerous. A lesbian in custody complained that her cuffs were too tight, and received a beating from one of the officers. When she started yelling, “Why don’t you guys do something,” he picked her up and threw her into the back of a squad car.

Only then did all hell break loose.

———-

Dennis watched from a distance as gays, lesbians and transvestites from all over Greenwich Village rushed the police, hands loaded with spare change. They smashed the windows of the patrol cars, turned them over, uprooted parking meters and used them as battering rams. They threw bricks. Bricks. God knows where they found the bricks. Dennis continued to watch until he saw a young woman run up to a squad car, trying to get the back seat. Once she got the door open, she reached inside, gently scooping up the injured woman in the back seat and carrying her to safety. The injured woman looked into her savior’s face, desperation and pain contorting her features. Dennis had seen that same look on Russell’s face right before he… Oh God. I have to find Russell!

Dennis ran back towards the Stonewall Inn, dodging bricks, flaming garbage, pausing only for a second to watch a kick-line full of transvestites taunting the police. He burst through the double doors, eyes scanning the room. The place was wrecked. Everything in the facility had been smashed to pieces. Searching, he found Russell lying unconscious on the floor. Dennis ran to his ex, kneeling beside him and unbuttoning his shirt. Russell had not broken any ribs, but his chest had turned a mottled purple. Scooping him up gently, Dennis searched for a back exit, dreading seeing the scene outside again. Russell was going home with him tonight. Dennis knew that Russell wouldn’t be moving around much for the next few days, and was in no condition to take care of himself.Maybe, Dennis thought as he carried Russell through the back door and into the alley, that’s all he really wanted the whole time. Somebody to take care of him. Dennis thought of the look in Russell’s eyes as he stared up from the floor earlier that evening. He never wanted to see that look of pain again. Maybe he could give the relationship a second try. Maybe.

---------- Post added 20th Jul 2011 at 06:12 PM ----------

Feedback is welcome, of course!

 

It would be nice if everybody who took the time to read it would leave a comment or some feedback. Just saying...

 

Taken into account. It's not quite historically accurate, as I took a few liberties with some details. For instance, I don't know what happened to the woman in the squad car. But the kick line actually happened.

Also, you did get at the part I'm most displeased with. I want to improve on the scene directly following the initial raid, but I've never quite been sure how.

 

The riot lasted longer, but Dennis really wanted to leave before things got even uglier.