GLF vs. the Mafia

A first-person account by Martha Shelley

In January 1970 there was an incident at Gianni’s, a popular lesbian bar just north of the Village, when a couple of straight businessmen came in for drinks and saw two women dancing together. One of them tried to cut in but was rejected. He punched the butchier-looking woman, knocking her to the floor, and then left. The low-level Mafia guys, who owned the place and were supposed to provide security in exchange for their overpriced drinks, did nothing.

As soon as the news reached GLF, about of us, men and women, marched on the bar. We selected some fast tunes on the jukebox and danced in circles but did not order drinks. Once again, I was selected as spokesperson. Knees shaking, I went up to the owner and his partner. As I remember they were about a head and a half taller than I was and wore black pinstripe suits. Cinematic memories of Al Capone, machine guns, and the St. Valentine’s Day massacre flickered in the back of my mind. Later I realized that they must have had frightening visions as well, of smashed furniture and liquor bottles, of thousands of dollars in uninsured damages.

After I’d finished chewing them out for not protecting the women who provided their livelihood, the taller one frowned down at me. “Do you know who I am?” he said.

“I don’t know and I don’t care,” I shot back. “We are the Gay Liberation Front!” And I turned and walked back to the dance floor.