San Diego’s LGBTQ+ community boasts a rich and vibrant history, deeply intertwined with the evolution of its beloved bars and gathering spaces. These establishments have served as more than just places to grab a drink; they've been sanctuaries, community centers, and crucibles for cultural identity. From the post-war era’s clandestine meetings to the bustling streets of Hillcrest today, the story of San Diego's gay bars is a testament to resilience, connection, and the enduring human need for belonging.
Did you know that many of the earliest gay bars across the United States were established near military installations? San Diego, a major port city, was no exception. For decades, individuals seeking connection and community often found themselves drawn to these areas. As historian Smith notes, the very nature of military life, which sometimes required individuals to relocate away from their hometowns, inadvertently fostered the growth of more visible LGBTQ+ communities.
One establishment that stands as a living monument to this era is "The Hole," formerly known as "The 19th Hole." General Manager Sherman recounts how a powerful storm altered its signage, leading to its simpler, enduring moniker. This bar, potentially the third oldest, or even the oldest, gay bar in the country, embodies a significant chapter in American LGBTQ+ history. Its longevity speaks volumes about its role as a cornerstone for generations of patrons.
During the post-war era and up until the Stonewall Uprising, San Diego's gay bars operated under a veil of secrecy. Downtown was the epicenter of this burgeoning scene, with establishments like the Cinnabar on Fifth Avenue being notable. However, the city’s urban redevelopment projects in later decades led to the demolition of many historic locations, erasing tangible traces of these early gathering spots. For those seeking a sense of belonging, these bars offered a vital escape from a society that often met their identities with hostility and legal repercussions.
Life for LGBTQ+ individuals in these earlier decades was fraught with challenges. Vice squad officers frequently conducted raids, and even simple acts of affection, like embracing or sitting closely with someone of the same sex, could lead to questioning or arrest for lewd conduct. While dancing between women was permissible in some venues, men dancing together or engaging in public displays of affection like hugging or hand-holding risked similar legal trouble until the late 1960s.
For lesbians, the stakes were even higher. Publicly identifying as gay, especially for mothers, could result in the devastating loss of child custody, as homosexual individuals were often deemed unfit parents by welfare authorities. Even after homosexuality was declassified as a mental disorder by the American Psychiatric Association in 1973, these prejudices persisted, affecting custody battles in cities like Los Angeles.
Despite these oppressive societal forces, the human need for connection proved to be a powerful motivator. The documentary’s insights highlight how, even when faced with the risk of arrest, job loss, or even losing one's home and children, people were drawn to these spaces. The joy and camaraderie captured in rare footage from a San Francisco bar in the late 1960s – a diverse crowd of everyday people, drag queens, and leather enthusiasts – paints a vivid picture of the vital role these bars played in fostering a sense of shared humanity and acceptance.
One of the most iconic and enduring establishments in San Diego’s LGBTQ+ history is the Brass Rail. First opening its doors in 1934, it began as a bar and restaurant within the Orpheum Theater. Initially, it wasn't exclusively a gay establishment. However, in 1960, under the ownership of Lou Arko, a straight ally, the Brass Rail underwent a pivotal transformation, catering predominantly to a gay clientele. This shift marked a significant moment, solidifying its place as a landmark.
The bar later relocated to its current, third location on Fifth Avenue in the Hillcrest neighborhood, cementing its status as the oldest continuously operating gay bar in San Diego. The stories emanating from the Brass Rail, shared by patrons, bartenders, and owners, form a rich oral history, offering invaluable glimpses into the bar's enduring legacy. Its presence in Hillcrest, which would later become the vibrant heart of San Diego’s LGBTQ+ community, underscores its foundational importance.
While downtown was the early hub, the landscape gradually shifted, with Hillcrest rising to prominence as the epicenter of San Diego’s gay bars and nightlife. This neighborhood’s growth mirrored the increasing visibility and organization of the LGBTQ+ community. Early gay publications, distributed through the bar network, became crucial clearinghouses for information on social events, community news, and gossip. These bars weren't just places to socialize; they were integral to building community infrastructure before formal support systems were widely established.
The Imperial Court system also became a significant thread in the fabric of bar culture. Bars would sponsor candidates to compete for the titles of Emperor and Empress, culminating in festive galas and charitable fundraising efforts. This tradition fostered a sense of pride, community engagement, and philanthropy.
The late 1970s and 1980s saw a surge in the popularity of San Diego's beach bars, with establishments like the Matador and the Outrigger becoming synonymous with the era's vibrant social scene. These bars, often featured on matchbooks that have become treasured mementos, represent a golden age for many in the community. The carefully considered post-production of documentaries chronicling this period aimed to capture the essence of these diverse venues, balancing in-depth narratives with a representation of the variety that defined this high-water mark.
Even as bars changed hands and names – like the Swing becoming A Different Drum – the spirit of these gathering places persisted. The Apartment, for instance, held a central place in the lives of many during the late 70s, with patrons recalling its significance with remarkable clarity, even decades later.
The 1980s brought an unprecedented challenge: the AIDS epidemic. As social liberalism expanded, the devastating impact of AIDS decimated a generation of gay men, claiming tens of thousands of lives across the United States, with San Diego experiencing thousands of deaths alone. In the absence of immediate government support, San Diego’s gay bars transformed into crucial centers for community organizing, political engagement, and fundraising.
Establishments like Number One Fifth Avenue became focal points for community mobilization, with patrons galvanizing to fight for resources and raise vital funds. Bars held ad hoc fundraising efforts, with moving displays like rows of coffee cans, each bearing a photograph of an afflicted individual, allowing patrons to donate directly to those in need. The resilience and dedication of bar owners, staff, and patrons during this harrowing period were truly inspiring, forging an even stronger sense of community amidst unimaginable hardship.
As San Diego moved into the 1990s and beyond, the role and perception of gay bars began to evolve. Younger generations of LGBTQ+ individuals often view these spaces differently than their predecessors, leading to discussions about the long-term viability of traditional gay bars. The closure of popular venues like Numbers, after 25 years of operation, reflects a broader trend seen in urban centers worldwide.
While the landscape continues to shift, the legacy of San Diego's gay bars remains indelible. They stand as powerful symbols of community, resilience, and the unwavering pursuit of connection. From the hushed tones of early clandestine meetings to the celebratory beats of today's diverse nightlife, these spaces have consistently provided a sanctuary and a platform for the LGBTQ+ community to thrive, celebrate, and build a shared future.