Stonewall Memorial 1969-2009

"Long Live the Spirit of Stonewall"

So proclaims the rousing ending of the Stonewall Declaration of Gay Freedom. This plaque was presented by a group then known as the Gay Walk for Freedom who organized the first huge march up Fifth Avenue on the tenth anniversary of the Stonewall riots.  It was carved into hardwood and presented to all gay people on July 25, 1978. It was unveiled in a simple ceremony before a large crowd in front of the Stonewall building upon which it was mounted. At the time Stonewall housed a beauty salon. The next day the plaque was gone.

This is the story as it was told to our Stonewall Memorial director by the photographer . He tells of how it was first photographed and then rediscovered. He lived and worked as a freelance photographer in New York City  during the 1970’s and is eye witness to those glorious and heady gay days leading up to the AIDS crisis.

“I got a call from my editor on June 23, 1978. He asked me if I knew about the parade that was (for the first time) going right up the distance of Fifth Avenue on Saturday and was I going. I told him that I hadn’t gone to any of the other parades they had been having in the Village the last several years and I probably wouldn’t go to this one either. My friends had gone to them and they were always fairly small affairs and didn’t really interest me that much. I didn’t know much about what happened at the Stonewall Bar 10 years before either. Probably the real reason I hadn’t ever gone to one was that I was usually so hung over after a horny night out the Friday night before I couldn’t get up in time. I told him that if I did go I would take some pictures and he said that would be much appreciated as he wanted to put some in next weeks issue. I needed the extra money so I told him I would probably try to go and I would give it serious consideration. 

So Saturday morning arrived and I was still in bed. I had gotten home from the 9^th Circle in the Village about 4 AM and didn’t feel too great the next morning as usual after a night of heavy partying. At that hour of the morning you might have to wait at the Christopher Street subway station maybe for up to 45 minutes before you get a train uptown. So when I got home I fell straight asleep and woke up late. The parade had started already. It had begun at Washington Arch in the village and went up to Central Park. There had been quite a bit of coverage in the evening news but I didn’t think it would turn out to be a big deal.

Anyway, I got a shower and grabbed my camera. After having come from the Village the night before and being late for the parade I thought I would just walk the rather short distance over to the Sheep Meadow in Central Park and see if anyone was there. Almost unbelievingly I began to hear the crowd half way down 72^nd Street well before I passed by The Dakota and into the park itself. It gave me the chills.

I hadn’t heard that kind of awe inspiring sound since the days of the great marches protesting the Viet Nam War in Golden Gate Park. It was an orchestrated chorus of a hundred thousand and more gay voices proclaiming their right to freedom. The sound came in acoustic waves booming down 72^nd street and echoing across to the Hudson River. Shivers ran down my back. I thought to myself that this wasn’t just another ordinary day. This was history in the making.

As I approached the Sheep Meadow I was astounded at the sea of humanity that stretched across the park as far as the eye could see. Young and old, male and female, they came in their thousands. A joyous, celebratory crowd that stood before the City of New York and indeed the world and said “We are alive, we are great and indeed we are good.” It was a demonstration of gay power such as the world had never seen.

And yet they came and kept coming. An hour went by. Then another hour and the flags, banners and their groups kept pouring into the park until the crowd swelled to such a size that it disappeared underneath and behind the trees. Speaker after speaker compelled the multitude to understand that this day had come for our benefit and that no longer would we have to cower in shame at who we were. There was an electric charge flowing throughout the whole affair and one looked at one another with the kind of understanding that told you that for the first time I AM ALIVE, I AM HERE, I AM WITH YOU AND I AM OK. It was an awesome experience never to be forgotten.

Anyway, word had it that there was a big street festival all that afternoon and evening down on Christopher Street in the Village so I got on the subway and headed down late that afternoon. At the park I was hesitant to stand there and take a lot of photographs although I did take several of the crowd. It seemed such a spiritual experience that I felt my camera was rather intruding and that photographing such an overwhelming event with such audacity was not right. People were not there to be photographed and I understood that. So I thought I would get a lot of great shots on the street at the party. I had taken many photographs in the Village at street festivals in the past and in fact still have many dozens that have never been exhibited or published. Along with the actual photograph of the Stonewall Memorial plaque, I have donated the “Trilogy” black and white photo of the two boys you see here on this website which was also taken that day.

As the festivities roared on I decided that it was time for me to head back up to the Westside earlier rather than later. As I approached the stairs to the subway station it occurred to me that just up the street across 7^th Avenue was where I had heard that a memorial plaque had been unveiled earlier that day. I crossed over 7^th and went on up to 53 Christopher Street and indeed, there it was.

It was rather crudely carved out of hard wood and was hanging on the brick wall. It announced to Gay People of New York City that this was the site of the Stonewall riots and briefly described what had happened there. It ended with Long Live the Spirit of Stonewall presented by Gay Walk for Freedom, June 25, 1978. All the action was going on down Christopher Street and up here on this side of 7^th it was much less hectic. I stood there a minute and then decided to photograph the plaque. I took two negatives in black and white and then headed up to my darkroom to start developing film and making proof sheets for my editor to show him on Monday morning. He did publish a few of my photos that week.

The next day, Sunday, I had a call from a friend who wanted me to meet for brunch in the Village. I said OK and once again took the IRT back down to the Village. After brunch and a mimosa (was it at Julius’?), I took him over to show him the plaque in front of the old Stonewall they had unveiled yesterday. It was GONE. Someone had taken a crowbar to it and wrenched it off the wall. You could see marks in the brick where it had violently been removed. I apologized and said that some hateful person must have done that in the night. So the first and original plaque was gone within 24 hours, a testament to the fact that there was still a long way to go for the gay movement ever to succeed.

A few years later I left New York. All of my many thousands of negatives went into storage as I travelled and lived in many different parts of the world for the next 35 years. A couple of years ago I began to go through my archives and came across the proofs from that day and realized I still had the photo of the original declaration for gay freedom. So here on the 40^th Anniversary I am making it available once again.” gypsy boy photos