SAN ANTONIO ORAL HISTORIES

Local writers and activists offer a slice of GLBT life from days past in San Antonio.

San Antonio’s gay and lesbian community has experienced a series of waves of organizational activity over the decades. Each of these has been influenced or characterized by a venture in publishing a community newsletter, newspaper or magazine. One such wave of organizing activity—that still reverberates today—happened in the early 1980s.

I had just moved back to San Antonio, my hometown, after a decade in San Francisco and was most pleased to discover a vital gay community alliance here and threw myself into the project with gusto. The originator of the San Antonio Gay Alliance (SAGA) and its associated media venture, The Calendar, was a former UTSA professor named Michael Stevens. Michael was one of those gay men whose personal struggles to claim his identity resulted in a great good and great change for the whole city.

Stevens was a Political Science instructor at the University of Texas here. He’d moved to San Antonio from his hometown Philadelphia with his wife Bernadette to take the job at UTSA. He and Bernadette were a modern sophisticated "liberated" couple; both strong individuals with strong interests in politics and community organizing and a commitment to honesty and openness. After a couple of years, as Michael began to discover within himself his homosexual identity, he and his wife split up amicably and maturely. And Michael and Bernadette were quite open with their friends and academic peers about the reason for their breakup. But when Michael applied for tenure at UTSA, he was turned down—apparently because of his newly formed and very public openly gay identity.

With the end of his job as a college teacher and the end of his marriage, Stevens started a whole new life. He moved to a house in the gay neighborhood off San Pedro and developed a relationship with a former student and fellow activist Patrick Kerr. And Stevens vowed he’d use his political organizing skills to serve his new personal identity.

Michael pulled together San Antonio gay business people (like Hap Veltman of The Country and The Bonham Exchange, Lollie Johnson of Faces, attorney David Mitchell, music entrepreneur Rudy Gonzalez and his partner John Mitchell, lesbian bar-owner Julee French and her partner realtor Barbara Havard) and previous gay activists (like Jim Eggling and Gene Leggett) to form the San Antonio Gay Alliance. And he and Patrick started publishing The Calendar, a little booklet-style gay bar rag with announcement s of SAGA activities and local gay community events. (I joined up as Michael’s protégé and SAGA secretary and manager of the very primitive computer database because I had a then cutting-edge Apple II Plus! My partner Kip and I met, by the way, during that time partly because of my role in SAGA—but that’s another story.)

That was a rich but tumultuous time in San Antonio. Several of the organizations that survive today in one form or another were founded during that period: the Alamo Business Council, Alamo Human Rights Committee, the Alamo City Men’s Chorale, Esperanza, Gay Fiesta and PrideFest, and, of course, the San Antonio AIDS Foundation.

AIDS devastated the SAGA Board, taking such devoted activists as Dana DiCastro, Max Gillaspy, Dub Daugherty, Veltman, the two Mitchells—and both Michael Stevens and Patrick Kerr.

As I write this short recollection of Gay San Antonio of some 25 years ago, I am looking at an old and yellowed print-out of the SAGA mailing list. There are just too many names to mention (and I apologize for egregious omissions). So many of the people on that list are gone. But many of us are still around. And San Antonio is still benefiting from that wave of organizing activity. We owe Michael Stevens a debt of gratitude. For all that he lived a truncated life, he changed the world for us San Antonians.

Toby Johnson’s most recent book, "Charmed Lives: Gay Spirit in Storytelling," which includes three stories by San Antonio writers, was nominated for a Lambda Literary Award.

Cornynation -- Cornyation, first performed in 1961, is now one of Fiesta San Antonio's most popular official events. Ray Chavez, the reining coordinator of Cornyation says that this year the event will distribute $100,000 to local charities.

Gay tolerance for GI’s -- Military policies of gay "tolerance" occurred as a result of queer leadership in San Antonio challenging the historic harassment of military police, who worked in tandem with SAPD, arresting soldiers at gay bars, from the 1940s - 60s through the Clinton era.

The first gay bar in San Antonio -- El Jardin, the oldest gay bar west of the Mississippi, opened in 1946. It is now a boutique hotel on Navarro Street.

The Papa Bear nightclub -- Established in 1982 on Broadway, Papa Bear’s becomes a meeting place for people with HIV in 1986, setting the stage for the creation of the San Antonio AIDS Foundation.

First AIDS art show -- Esperanza hosted the first AIDS art exhibit, "The AIDS Series" by Mim Scharlack that opened on May 19, 1989.

A high-profile AIDS death -- Ted Warmbold, editor of the San Antonio Light, dies on February 26, 1989 from AIDS. His widow, Dr. Carolyn Nizzi Warmbold, came out for him in an article in the newspaper and made a speech at the opening of "Equal Rights for Whom," a show "queerated" by David Zamora Casas, that opened on June 19 that same year. Over 500 people attended the opening.

Lesbian films cause outrage -- In 1990, the Guadalupe Theatre hosted two films featuring lesbian themes and City Hall received over 180 calls in protest. The films were part of the Third Annual Texas Lesbian Conference that took place in San Antonio at the Menger Hotel. Protesters did not want a city owned facility to exhibit the films. But on the night of the screening, the theater was packed and Pedro Rodriguez, director of the Guadalupe Theater stood firm in his support.

Gay murder acquitted -- In 1991, Nicolo J. Giangrasso, a Marine police cadet, brutally assaults another man after a New Year's Eve celebration climaxed in a hotel room on Broadway. While he confessed to the killing, a jury accepts his story of "homosexual panic" and absolves him of murder.

S.A. soldier comes out in 1992 -- Jose Zuniga, Brackenridge HS 1987, the Sixth Army's 1992 "Soldier of the Year," and a highly-decorated veteran of the Persian Gulf War, comes out publicly at the Lesbian & Gay March on Washington, challenging the military's Don't Ask Don't Tell policy on gay soldiers.

Esperanza zapped for "homosexual agenda" -- On September 11, 1997, the Esperanza Center is denied funding by the City Council for its "homosexual" agenda, after a series of right-wing attacks by the conservative media and the Christian right. In response, the Esperanza Center files a lawsuit in federal court against the City of San Antonio on August 4th, 1998. On May 15th, 2001, the Esperanza Center wins the lawsuit against the City on all four counts in a landmark case for the first amendment.

A gay San Antonio Marine -- Eric Alva, the first U.S. soldier injured in the Iraq War, who is from San Antonio, a "2003 American Hero," comes out to the media.

A lesbian on the City Council -- Maria Elena Guajardo, an out-lesbian, is elected to City Council in 2005, and attacked by the conservative Express-News columnist Ken Rodriguez in a series of columns. She loses her seat in the 2007 elections to Justin Rodriguez.

Graciela Sanchez is executive director of the Esperanza Peace and Justice Center.

1969 was the year of the Stonewall rebellion in New York. In those days San Antonio was a city where, if you were gay, you kept it quiet and stayed out of trouble. There were a few gay bars but even there you had to be careful since police vists were fairly routine. Nonetheless, the queer population managed to have its fun. Two popular bars at the time, the Arena and the Country, now live on only in memories.

Many who were around then would agree that the most popular gay bar in San Antonio in 1969 was the Arena. Located at 3123 Broadway in the building that now houses W.D. Deli, the Arena always looked dark when you drove by it. The front door was locked, the windows were blacked out and no front light burned bright. Patrons, almost exclusively men, entered through the back door. They parked in a lot behind the building so that their cars would not be visible from the main road.

The Arena consisted of one large space with a long bar on the north wall and a wide staircase that descended dramatically into the center of the room. On many nights the bar was presided over by a bartender nicknamed "Squirrel," a young, fluttery Latino with a Beatle haircut who always had something tart to say about this or that. Even though the music at the Arena was always bouncy, a city ordinance prohibited dancing in bars without a special permit. Squirrel would admonish anyone who swayed too long to the music.

On Sunday evenings the Arena held drag shows on small stage that was set at the base of the staircase. The drag queens would come down the stairs to the stage and perform for the standing room only crowds. At the 1969 Fourth of July Show, Squirrel performed dressed as the Statue of Liberty with sparklers.

Since it was close to Ft. Sam Houston, lots of gay soldiers would come into the Arena. Airmen from local bases were there too. But this was a risky venture for them. Several times a week, San Antonio Police, accompanied by Military Police, would come into the bar, have the lights turned up and check out anyone with a short haircut. Those without a local ID or suspected to be military would be escorted out, put in a squad car and questioned, and sometimes arrested.

The place to go dancing on the weekends was the Country (sometimes referred to as John’s Country) which was located far out Culebra Road near Leon Valley. It was situated on a dark side road among tracts of farmland in two long wooden buildings set end to end. The Country was literally in the country. Its location, far from the prying eyes of people in the city, made the bar a place where closeted patrons could let their hair down and have fun.

The honky tonk atmosphere at the Country was upbeat and the crowd diverse. Patrons included butch dykes with their femme girlfriends, drag queens, older poofs, gay boys -- nelly and ruff -- and straight farmer teens who lived in the area and out for a night of off-beat fun.

One amusing aspect of a night at the Country was that the lights inside the club would blink when doormen spotted police or military vehicles pull into the parking lot. By the time the cops came into the club, the dance floor would be filled with drag queens dancing with dykes and in other unconventional male-female combinations. Police never witnessed any same-sex dancing which, I'm guessing, may have resulted in the violation of some ordinance. When the police cars left, the lights would blink again, signaling that everyone could resume their gay revelry.

Sam Sanchez is the publisher of QSanAntonio.com.

Following is an expert of a story by Graeme Zielinski that appeared in the San Antonio Express News in March 2007.

The story of gays serving in the military may stretch into antiquity, all the way to Alexander the Great, but local history of a sort was made in 1973, said Gene Elder, archivist of the HAPPY Foundation, a local gay philanthropy. That's when the management of the San Antonio Country, a pioneering gay bar that was on North St. Mary's Street, fought its off-limits designation.

"Instead of admitting it's a gay bar, we said we're going to make them prove it's a gay bar," said Elder, the bar's manager at the time. A team of lawyers for the bar went to Fort Sam Houston for a hearing. "The MPs would get up there and say they saw a man in woman's clothing. They were obviously uncomfortable."

Unable to prove its case, the military dropped its prohibition, but that victory, like so many others, was short-lived, Elder said, adding: "We have come to the conclusion that anyone (gay) who wants to be in the military is nuts."

I was brought brought to San Antonio by a butch girl in 1969 and fell in love with the city. I came with baggage -- three boys and one girl. I love my children more than my own life. I am so blessed because all my children accepted me with no reservations at a very young age and at a time when it was not chic to be gay.

There was a club way out near Leon Valley called appropriately the Country. It was owned by Lou and Betty. On Sundays, my lover would take all my kids and the kids in our neighborhood and let them swim in the pool and play soft ball in the field they had.

When the house that Lou and Betty lived in next to the club burned, that was the end of the club and some great memories of my children on Sunday afternoons at the Country.

Fran Mendez is the executive director of We Are Alive and Gay Fiesta.

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