Beyond Stonewall: The Trip and the Spark of Chicago's LGBTQ+ Activism

Chicago's LGBTQ+ history often unfolds in the shadow of larger, more nationally recognized events. Yet, in the late 1960s, a series of pivotal moments, often centered around a seemingly unassuming establishment named The Trip, ignited a powerful wave of local activism. While the roar of Stonewall echoed across the nation, Chicago's journey toward LGBTQ+ rights was a more measured, yet equally determined, march, one where a local bar raid and a landmark court case became the unlikely catalysts for change. The Trip, located at 27 E. Ohio Street, wasn't just another downtown eatery. After dinner hours, its main floor transformed into a vibrant restaurant, its second floor buzzed with a cabaret, and a third-floor playroom offered respite with pool tables and pinball. This three-story venue, situated on the cusp of the upscale Rush Street nightlife and the city's grittier hotel districts, became a significant hub for Chicago's burgeoning gay community. On Sundays, it even operated as a private club, a crucial sanctuary in an era of pervasive discrimination.

The Raid that Ignited a Movement

The year 1969 proved to be a watershed moment. In January of that year, police raided The Trip, arresting 13 patrons on charges that included public indecency and soliciting for prostitution. The pretext? A plainclothes officer, having gained entry with a legally obtained membership card, observed members dancing together as same-sex couples. This seemingly minor infraction, occurring in a city already grappling with a national reputation for police brutality, was a stark illustration of the systemic harassment faced by the LGBTQ+ community. When the case reached the courts in March, the defense, spearheaded by attorney Ralla Klepak, successfully had the charges against both patrons and management dismissed. The Mattachine Midwest Newsletter, a vital organ of LGBTQ+ advocacy at the time, seized upon the incident. They highlighted the absurdity of the charges, noting that dancing together was not illegal and that the ACLU would eagerly welcome such a case as a test of discriminatory practices. This incident, though not immediately explosive, planted the seeds of a more proactive approach to fighting oppression.

Challenging the System: The Trip's Legal Battle

The Trip's defiance didn't end with the raid's dismissal. In a bold move that marked a significant shift in LGBTQ+ advocacy in Chicago, The Trip became one of the first venues to openly host same-sex dancing, even predating organized picketing by groups like Chicago Gay Liberation. This was a direct challenge to a de facto policy that could effectively shut down any establishment catering to the gay community. Traditionally, authorities could revoke licenses based on perceived "immorality," a vague charge often leveraged against gay bars. The lengthy appeals process meant these businesses often shuttered permanently, their clientele dispersed and their investments lost. The owners of The Trip, Dean Kolberg and Ralf Johnston, faced mounting pressure. The earlier raid had already crippled their luncheon business. Rather than accept defeat, they hired attorney Elmer Gertz to challenge the License Appeal Commission of Chicago, which had upheld the revocation of their liquor license. The Mattachine Midwest Newsletter reported that no gay bar had previously dared to mount such a legal challenge. The ensuing legal battle was arduous, eventually making its way to the Illinois Supreme Court. The case, *Johnkol, Inc. v. License Appeal Commission of Chicago*, culminating in 1970 with a complete reversal of the commission's decision, was a landmark victory. It established a crucial precedent: gay bars could not be summarily shut down on flimsy pretexts. This legal triumph provided a much-needed framework for challenging discriminatory licensing practices and empowered other establishments to resist unfair targeting.

A Hub for Activism Beyond the Dance Floor

Even while closed during its appeal process in 1969, The Trip remained a vital center for the burgeoning LGBTQ+ rights movement. It hosted the third annual nationwide conference of the North American Conference of Homophile Organizations (NACHO), a significant coordinating body for 26 organizations, just days before the turbulent Democratic National Convention. Simultaneously, Mattachine Midwest, an independent organization formed to provide local support and advocacy after the failures of national chapters, held its monthly public meetings at The Trip. The impetus for Mattachine Midwest's formation stemmed from a particularly brutal raid on Louie's Fun Lounge, a suburban gay bar. The aftermath of that raid reportedly included job losses and even a rumored suicide, underscoring the severe consequences of such police actions. While The Trip eventually reopened, the threat of police scrutiny persisted. In 1972, a patron was arrested on the familiar charge of public indecency, though this time, the charge was dismissed. The owners, understandably protective of their business, were even reported to have refused to call the police when a Mattachine officer was robbed at gunpoint within the premises. Chicago Today columnist Barbara Ettorre, in an on-site interview, painted a vivid picture of The Trip, noting its diverse clientele – men from all walks of life, all ages, and every style of dress, all united by the shared experience of seeking community and respite.

Chicago in Flux: A City on the Brink

The late 1960s in Chicago were a period of immense social and political upheaval. Beyond the constant harassment of the gay community, the city was a focal point for anti-war protests, with various New Left groups, hippies, and Yippies converging for demonstrations during the Democratic National Convention. The atmosphere was charged with dissent, and the established order felt increasingly challenged. Adding to this volatile mix was the pervasive issue of the Vietnam War draft. Gay men identified as such faced significant hurdles, often being deemed unfit for service, but the stigma associated with being drafted and then dishonorably discharged loomed large, impacting future economic and social prospects. Underpinning much of this social unrest were covert government operations. The Chicago Police Department's Red Squad, a clandestine unit with roots stretching back to the aftermath of the 1886 Haymarket Affair, was actively involved in surveillance and disruption. Attorney Rick Gutman, associated with the Alliance to End Repression (of which Mattachine Midwest was a member), was preparing to challenge the Red Squad's constitutionality. Reports suggested the squad destroyed thousands of files before its potential challenge, and its records, sealed until 2025 at the Chicago History Museum, were rumored to contain information on over 100,000 individuals and 14,000 organizations. As part of a lawsuit settlement, it was revealed that the Red Squad had also gathered information at the first gay political convention, held in Chicago in February 1969, where delegates aimed to formulate demands for a gay rights plank in major party platforms. Activist Franklin E. Kameny famously addressed this convention, advocating for self-respect and self-definition. The summer of 1969 saw further protests and legal actions, including efforts to prevent permit refusals for demonstrations and bans on sleeping in parks during the Democratic National Convention. The subsequent rallies and counter-demonstrations further amplified the voices of dissent and activism.

The Mattachine Midwest Newsletter: A Voice for the Voiceless

David Stienecker, who joined Mattachine Midwest in the mid-1960s after returning to Chicago, became a central figure in the organization's efforts to combat police harassment. As editor of the *MM Newsletter*, he played a crucial role in documenting and disseminating information about the community's struggles. The newsletter became a vital tool for exposing police entrapment, particularly in public parks and tearooms – common cruising grounds that were frequently targeted by law enforcement. Stienecker and his colleagues meticulously reported on these incidents, often writing protest letters to the mainstream press and engaging in direct communication with authorities, including police commanders and the U.S. Attorney's office. The newsletter also tackled broader societal issues, such as the film *The Gay Deceivers*, a comedy that played on stereotypes. Stienecker's willingness to publish corrections and follow-up reports, even including photographs of individuals wrongly accused, demonstrated a commitment to accuracy and accountability.

Entrapment, Exposure, and Employment Discrimination

The issue of police entrapment was a persistent threat. In early 1970, a newly formed gay group at the University of Chicago learned that Sergeant John Manley, implicated in entrapment cases, was scheduled to speak at a university event. The *MM Newsletter* reported on this, and during a subsequent picket at WBAI, a student recognized Manley as having previously posed as an out-of-town gay activist named Mandrenas to infiltrate planning meetings. The consequences of such activism were not always immediate or solely legal. Stienecker himself faced repercussions when his employer, World Book Encyclopedia, fired him a few months after his involvement in a rally was reported by the Chicago Tribune. The explicit or implicit reason? His identity as a gay man. This personal experience underscored the pervasive employment discrimination that LGBTQ+ individuals endured.

A Community Blossoms: From Isolation to Empowerment

The struggles of the late 1960s, exemplified by events at The Trip and the diligent work of organizations like Mattachine Midwest, fostered a powerful sense of collective identity and purpose. Gays and lesbians realized they were not alone and that they too could stand up and fight for their rights. By the mid-1970s, the landscape of LGBTQ+ life in Chicago had transformed dramatically. Gay groups flourished on college campuses, and a proliferation of newsletters and publications emerged. Beyond the Mattachine referral hotline, comprehensive directories, clinics, a dedicated lesbian center with a bookstore and library, social service organizations like Beckman House and Gay Horizons, and a community center on West Elm Street sprang up. The legacy of The Trip and the activism it both symbolized and facilitated is undeniable. It represents a crucial chapter in Chicago's LGBTQ+ history, showcasing how localized resistance and legal challenges could pave the way for broader social change, proving that even in the shadow of national movements, local victories could forge a stronger, more visible, and more empowered community.