Gay men had had enough of the vigilante threats, enough of the slurs, enough of the random violence in the street and the endless police harassment. They’d had enough of hiding in the shadows of trees and living a lie. A week after the trees were felled in Queens, about 10 miles away in Manhattan a thread snapped in the social fabric of the city. The strange incident was one of the more surreal manifestations of a country that in June 1969 remained trapped in homophobia’s grip. They went home, grabbed saws and axes, and on that sticky summer evening, under the approving eye of local police, they chopped down all the trees. When that failed, the self-appointed defenders of morality took things to the next level. Run and never come back, they said, or we will beat you to a pulp. When they found a gay man hiding behind a tree they beamed powerful lights into his face. Growing at times to 40 strong, they prowled the park like packs of hunting dogs in search of prey. But that didn’t stop the locals forming vigilante groups.
