I “came out” in the late seventies in a major mid-western city. Police raids of the gay bars were a regular occurrence. That is to say, the gay bars were raided whenever the police did not get a kick-back from the (mafia owned, ironically) bar owners. We all knew when a raid was underway: the music would stop, the lights would come on and we knew to stand in place, keep our eyes glued to the floor and absolutely make no physical contact with each other or the police officers. We also could not be seen holding any type of beverage, alcoholic or not. To make physical contact meant being arrested for “lewd and lascivious behavior”. To be seen holding a drink meant being arrested for “public intoxication”. Those were the standard charges. To even touch the arm of an officer while begging for tolerance absolutely guaranteed arrest. That would constitute “assault of a law enforcement official”. The raids always involved a paddy wagon pulled up to the curb and flashlights in your face. Inevitably, they also involved half a dozen or so arrests. Just to make a point.
I recall one such raid when a young acquaintance of mine didn’t follow the established routine. He was holding the arm of his boyfriend and refused to let go, or more likely, didn’t understand the rules. He was handcuffed and led outside in tears. He had recently come out and hadn’t even yet told his parents that he was gay. The original charge, apparently, was “lewd and lascivious behavior”. After he was shot on the street, however, it was changed to “resisting arrest”. Oddly, he wasn’t wearing handcuffs when the paramedics arrived. In that case, there was no “investigation” of the police by the police. Unfortunately, given the “shameful” circumstances of his arrest, his family chose not to claim his body. We took up a collection for his funeral in the same bar where he was arrested.