"We Are Going To Have a Parade!"

A year after the modern gay liberation movement was launched by the drag queen-led rebellion at the Stonewall bar on New York's Christopher Street in June 1969, activists in other cities were thinking of ways to mark the anniversary. A march was planned in New York, and one of the organizers phoned Morris Kight, one of the organizers of the Gay Liberation Front in Los Angeles.

Here's how he remembered it 30 years later:

"On 10 May 1970, I placed a notice on the front door of my house that I was not seeing anybody, took the telephone off the hook, and went into contemplation. All this at 1822 West Fourth Street, Los Angeles, California 90057. I had had a note from a prime activist in New York, which said: 

Dear Morris, we, in New York, are going to have some kind of celebration of the Stonewall. What are you going to do in Los Angeles?

"Happily that one did not win out! At noon, I yelled out: We are going to have a parade! Of course, Hollywood Boulevard, of course the last Sunday in June, 1970. Before the day was out, it was named and two major sponsors were secured: The Gay Liberation Front, and Metropolitan Community Church.

"The rest is history."

"Aware that some graphic was needed, I took a pop bottle and sketched out the button herewith. Off to Achievement Badge and Trophy Company, 1507 West 7th Street, Los Angeles, California 90057. Three thousand were ordered, and 44 days later we marched."

But in between, it took a court battle.

Rev. Troy Perry, founder of the Universal Fellowship of Metropolitan Community Churches, takes up the story:

"The first of May, 1970,  I received a telephone call from Rev. Bob Humphries (head of  United States Mission, a pioneer gay welfare organization) and Mr. Morris Kight asking me if I had read the article in the Advocate  (then a tabloid newspaper) a few months before about the riots around the Stonewall Inn that had taken place in New York City the year before. Morris said, "Can we come over and see you?" I said, "Yes," and within a few hours they were in my home. We immediately started talking about what had happened in New York City. 

"Morris said, 'We should hold a demonstration here on the West Coast to celebrate that riot.' I said, "Why not a parade?" and Bob Humphries  chimed in, 'Why not?' We immediately decided on a name: Christopher Street West, and Morris said he would pick up any applications that the city had for a parade.

"On Flag Day, June 14, 1970, I stunned my congregation, irritated some of my board of directors and helped set off on a crusade that is still going on.

"I was determined to see my church support our parade,  and after the parade to embark upon a fast until we had really meaningful dialogue about changing the unjust laws that were used to harass homosexuals in the City of Los Angeles and the State of California. My sermon was this:

Hostile Police Commission

"This last week, I had the most interesting experience I think that I've had in my life up to this point. We've made application for a parade permit, as most of you know. We're going to have a joyous celebration. We want to just march as homosexuals who are citizens, full citizens, of this country. 

"Well, we went to the Police Commission. When we got there, we met a policeman. He informed us that our hearing wouldn't come up 'til about 3:00. So, if we wanted to leave, we could. He informed us that the Police Commission was having lunch with the Parks Commission, and they were going to be late in getting started. Well, we went and had a cup of coffee. We came back about 2:15, and they'd already passed everything on the agenda. Except us. And when we got there, the committee asked me to act as spokesperson for our group before the commission. I didn't know that Edward M. Davis, the chief of police of the City of Los Angeles, was going to be there. I was shocked. He was sitting on one side. They asked me to stand up, and the president of the police commission asked me my name and what church I pastored. The commissioners knew exactly what church I pastored. They started questioning me.

Thieves and Robbers

"It seemed like an eternity. I was actually standing in front of them less than an hour. But I have never in all my life felt anything quite like it. I know now what a minority individual feels like. We kept talking. And, finally, Chief Davis spoke up. He said, ‘Did you know that homosexuality is illegal in the state of California?' I looked at him, and I said, ‘No, sir, it's not.' We then debated the issue. And he said, ‘Well, I want to tell you something. As far as I'm concerned, granting a parade permit to a group of homosexuals to parade down Hollywood Boulevard would be the same as giving a permit to a group of thieves and robbers.' Finally, the motion was made. One commissioner said, ‘There'll be violence in the streets.'

" 'Well,' I said, 'I remember that Captain Wesley of the Hollywood Division said the same thing about the first Gay-In that the Gay Liberation Front sponsored. And he said, ‘Around 5:00, violence will start in that park.' And around 5:00 the law moved in and started making arrests. That was the violence.'

Over $1.5 Million in Bonds Asked

"They debated among themselves. The commission was against it, but they said, ‘We're going to give the permit, if you can post two bonds, one in the amount of $1 million, one in the amount of $500,000. And if you will post, in cash the amount of $1,500, that amount will go to pay for the policemen that it will take to protect you. And, you must have at least 3,000 people marching. If not, you go to the sidewalks.' I thanked them. We called the American Civil Liberties Union and they have entered the case. We were going to hold that parade on June the 28th!

" 'June 28th, after the parade,' I told my congregation, 'I'm starting a fast. And I'm sitting down on a corner on Hollywood Boulevard. And I'm going to stay there and fast as long as it takes—if it's 10 days, 20 days, 30 days—'til somebody comes and talks, and lets us know that at least there are some state or federal officials that are interested in seeing something happen. And I need your prayers. I can't do it alone. I know my God is able. God will see me through this thing somehow. And I want you to know this. I know my God is able.'

"The next day, I went down to the American Civil Liberties Union for some advice. They supplied us with an attorney, Mr. Herbert Selwyn. He said he would be honored to appear at the Police Commission with me a week later. The Police Commission dropped all of its specifications except the requirement that we pay $1,500 for police protection. That was to protect us from the hard hats that might attack us. "Well," I said, "I didn't know any hard hats in Hollywood." So we left. That was on Friday.

Court Order

"On Monday we went to the California Superior Court and asked for, and were granted, a court order that not only granted us the parade permit, but required the police to provide us with whatever protection needed to maintain an orderly parade. In making his ruling, the judge said that we were all citizens of the State of California and entitled to equal protection under its laws. We would not pay any extra taxes or fees to the Los Angeles Police Department; and they were ordered to protect us as they would any other group.

"We had exactly two days to throw a parade together. Every gay organization in town wanted to participate, but no one was really prepared. None thought we'd ever get the permit. Once we had it, we went into action. I don't know where all the paraphernalia of the floats and parade exhibits came from, but a lot of runners must have run through garages, attics, display houses, costume houses, and who knows what all. It was decided to march down Hollywood Boulevard from the assembly area near Hollywood and Highland, east to Vine Street and then back to our starting point.

New York Denied Permit

"As we were forming for the parade, we learned that our gay brothers and sisters in New York had failed to get their permit, and had to march on the sidewalks without any formation. We were exultant to learn that they had gone on and marched anyway to their Gay-In up in Central Park.

"We couldn't get the bands we wanted to have, nor the horsemen, nor a lot of the floats, but we did exceptionally well anyway. The parade started with a VW Microbus playing some recordings of marches over an amplification system. Right behind that was the Society of Anubis, a social group of the hinterlands. They owned a retreat house out in the San Bernardino Mountains. And here they were, militant conservatives, going down Hollywood Boulevard with a float and Anubis on a white stallion.

"The alphabetical order was a little haphazard. Behind Anubis was the Advocate float bedecked with a carload of guys in swim suits. The parade ran the gamut of just about anything you could name. I think Focus was next. This was a pretty conservative gay group from extremely conservative Orange County. The Focus group carried a large sign reading, "Homosexuals for Ronald Reagan." I heard one woman spectator on the sidewalk say, "I can forgive them for being homosexuals, but not for being for Ronald Reagan." Gay Liberation came marching down the street carrying banners and shouting, "Two, four, six, eight, gay is just as good as straight." That drew two kinds of comments from the sidewalk crowd. One was an enthusiastic echo, the other derision.

"But the marchers were followed by the chilling spectacle of a Gay Lib float with a young beautiful man fastened on a cross. Above him a large black and white banner was emblazoned with the words, 'In Memory of Those Killed by the Pigs.' Reaction to that was a silent shock wave.

Pink Heels and a Leather Jacket

"Another organization marching with us was a group of friends carrying a large sign reading, "Heterosexuals for Homosexual Freedom." It was a direct, welcome, and reassuring gesture. One section that particularly amused me was the pet section. One fellow had a big white husky dog on a leash. He had a sign on his dog reading, 'All of us don't walk poodles.' There was a motorcycle group in black leather led by a young man resplendent in black leather jacket, pants, gloves, and dripping with chains. To set this off, he wore pink high-heeled shoes. 

"We were the last in this smoothly run parade. I rode in an open convertible. Behind me came the congregation singing, 'Onward Christian Soldiers.'

"After the parade I went to the corner of Hollywood Boulevard and Las Palmas Avenue to begin a prayer vigil and fast there. I had sent letters to Police Chief Davis and his assistants to let them know my plans. I really didn't go there expecting to be arrested, though in the back of my mind there was always that chance that it could happen.

"After I sat there about 30 minutes, some police officers walked up, looked the situation over and one said, 'Did you know that you're breaking the law?' I looked up and said, 'No, I don't know that.' 'It's against the law to do what you're doing,' the other officer said. 'Well, if it's against the law to sit on the sidewalk, then I presume I'm breaking the law.' They then asked me to get up and move along. I said, 'Well, officers, I can't do that. I'm holding a prayer vigil and fast as a protest against the laws that discriminate against homosexuals here in the state of California.'

"They left. But they came back twice more with the same request, and I gave them the same answer. Meanwhile, some of my friends and supporters were marching up and down. They read prayers, sang hymns, and walked in an orderly manner. A sergeant from the Los Angeles Police Department came up, looked at my clerical collar and said, 'Now, you're not going to be arrested, but I want you to know that you are in violation of the law.'

Off to Jail

"I thought I was going to be left alone. Two women insisted on joining me for the prayer vigil and fast, saying they would stick it out to the end. One of the women was from the Daughters of Bilitis (a pioneer lesbian rights group). The other was from a gay legal aid organization called HELP, Incorporated.

"Then a police car rolled around the corner and stopped. Two policemen jumped out, came over and said, 'You're all under arrest!'

"The two women were bailed out of jail and I was kept overnight until I was arraigned before a judge the next morning. I left the jail, went to the Federal Building, and continued my fast for another 10 days until City Councilman Robert Stevenson and his wife, Peggy, came and talked to me about starting the fight for gay and lesbian rights in the City of Los Angeles.  On the eleventh day, I broke my fast, and as they say, the rest is history."

Death of CSW?

The success of the 1970 parade led immediately to talk of doing it again in 1971, and maybe even of making the parade an annual event. But the 1971 and 1972 parades featured such things as a giant Vasoline jar and a Chinese dragon-like creation in the shape of a penis, the Cockapillar, ejaculating white fluid as it weaved down Hollywood Boulevard.

The bar and bathhouse owners who provided much of the initial financing for the parade, and who were mostly straight, panicked, and the informal CSW steering committee could not agree on what to do about parade content and financing. Revs. Perry and Humphries were preoccupied with the needs of their own organizations. Morris Kight had become unhappy with what he saw as the blunting of the parade's political focus.

The upshot was no parade in 1973. The steering committee broke up and it looked like CSW was dead.

Born Again

But in the fall of that year, Advocate News Editor Rob Cole, a member of the original steering committee, began a campaign to revive it. 

One of those who became involved was pioneer gay filmmaker Pat Rocco, who became the sparkplug of the effort and CSW's first official president.  Rocco, Cole and activist David Glascock were grudgingly granted a 1974 parade permit by the Police Commission over the objections of Police Chief Davis and after much criticism of the "unsavory" content of the 1972 parade.

It was Rocco who came up with the idea for the festival, originally called a carnival, which was launched in a Hollywood parking lot at Sunset Boulevard and Cherokee across from Blessed Sacrament Catholic Church—reportedly much to the church's dismay.   

That first carnival was an amateur effort with nobody much knowing what they were doing, and it cut a lot of corners in ways that couldn't be done today. But it offered carnival rides, games, food and information booths—most of the food and all of the information booths operated by the gay organizations of the day.

With the help of ACLU attorney Barry Kohn, the new committee started the ball rolling on incorporation, which was completed in 1976. The parade was held on July 4 that year, with the theme of "We Were There," and the carnival featured performances by the gay-owned Circus Vargas, which provided 3 elephants for the parade. The 1976 carnival lasted 4 days, for the first and last time.

Festival A Hard Sell

Rocco's proposal for the initial carnival/festival in 1974 was a hard sell for the revived CSW Committee.

"They thought I was crazy," Rocco recalls. "It was one thing to parade on Hollywood Boulevard for an hour—the parades were shorter then—but quite another for gay people to be on display for three days in the middle of Hollywood. They voted me down. But I persisted, meeting after meeting, that it could be done.

"Finally I wore down their resistance. Reluctantly, several of the committee members backed me up until I had a majority of votes. We were going to have a festival in 1974!

"There were seven carnival rides and 18 booths at that first festival. We sold hot dogs, had mock marriages, played games, sold leather goods, and were scared to death to be openly gay for three days and nights.

"Couples brought their children. People found out we didn't have horns. There was a mingling, an association, an understanding. The festival, unlike the parade, was a way for the heterosexual people of the 70's to get a good, close look at gay men and lesbians, and to find out that they were no different than themselves.

"It was the beginning of many festivals to come, as cities all over the world picked up on the idea through the years."

Move to West Hollywood

The parade and festival remained in Hollywood until 1979 when they were moved to the then unincorporated Los Angeles County enclave of West Hollywood, partly because it had developed a large gay and lesbian population and was considered more gay friendly. 

But a major consideration was that the festival had outgrown the Sunset and Cherokee festival site which was also targeted for development.  Another consideration was the continuing hostility of the Los Angeles Police Department at that time.

Since the City of West Hollywood incorporated in 1984, it has been a strong supporter of the parade and festival, waiving permit fees, making West Hollywood Park and part of San Vicente Boulevard available for the festival, and paying for parade policing.

Community, Corporate Support

Originally a shoestring operation financed from the pockets of a few individuals and small gay-oriented businesses, CSW now operates on a million-dollar budget with major corporation support, something unimaginable in its early days, and for many years, was able to return surplus funds to the community with grants to other organizations. But it has begun to find itself in a financial squeeze again as costs continue to rise.

The festival has outgrown its site several times. When it was first moved to West Hollywood, it was held in the parking lot of the Pacific Design Center  when the PDC was only one building. 

That site shrank drastically when the PDC put up its second building. The city then made West Hollywood Park and a portion of San Vicente Boulevard  available. The PDC plans a third building, which will eliminate the remaining portion of its parking lot that has been used by the festival.

But the annual CSW pride celebration continues to draw over 100,000 people each year and remains a major focus for lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender pride in the Los Angeles area.

Morris Kight died in Los Angeles on Jan. 19, 2003, after a long illness. He was 83. Rev. Humphries died of a heart attack in Fresno, California, on January 30, 2002. He was 67. The United States Mission, perhaps his major legacy, now has facilities in 16 cities nationwide.

Women in CSW

Women have been prime movers in CSW almost from the beginning.

The first president of CSW after incorporation was Sharon Cornelison, who also edited the short-lived CSW magazine. She died in 2003 at the age of 59. Sharon Tobin served with CSW for a total of about 20 years, longer than any other individual. She came on the board in 1975 and was the first corporation secretary.

She stayed with CSW with only one- to two-year absences until 1998, serving at various times as vice president, treasurer, and in various other roles.

Patricia Underwood was treasurer of the first 13-person board after incorporation, and served as president for several years around 1980, during the move to West Hollywood and the festival's greatest expansion. J. B. Newman managed festival setup for over a decade, until 1997, and originated many of the procedures that enable the setup and teardown process to run smoothly.  Sharon Donning was president in 1999, and Shirley Delovich was co-president in 2003. Many other women have served on the board over the years.

Racial, ethnic and sexual diversity has been a hallmark of the CSW board from the start. Latinos and blacks have been represented on the board almost continuously. Jeanne Barney, a self-identified heterosexual woman who was an advice columnist for the Advocate newspaper at the time, was heavily involved in getting CSW going again in 1974. And of course, the 1969 Stonewall Rebellion which inspired  CSW was essentially led by transgendered persons.

"We Give People Courage"

CSW and pride events in general have made a major impact on the gay movement,  Rev. Perry observed recently. "We actually give people courage."

"When I ask people questions about, 'How did you come out?' so many of them say it was connected with Gay Prides. 'Believe it or not,' they'll say, 'I saw you in that first gay pride parade, and Rev. Perry, it just made a difference to me.' People see me all over the world. I now am involved with Gay Pride celebrations worldwide, and whether it's Sydney, Australia, for Gay Mardi Gras, or World Pride in Rome, Italy, people say that parade once a year gives them courage."

He noted that most gays and lesbians do not have children "to tell our stories to," unlike other minority groups. "The gay community having kids is a recent phenomenon. Those who have kids were usually heterosexually married. Once we come out, we probably end that relationship. So the kids that we have from these marriages are not enough that we could tell our stories to. I really do believe that every generation that comes out, we have to retell our story. And one of the ways we retell our stories is through things like Christopher Street West.

"People can come to these things because they know that there will be thousands and thousands of people lining the streets, and they can be in some way anonymous. And the gift of gay pride . . . I believe with all my heart that I can never even find the words to say how important that's been to the history of our community."