High Park (An apology to the gay community)

I don’t remember seeing many openly gay guys in the cells during
my time on the police force. There were still plenty of outmoded draconian
laws in effect that might have had the jails and prisons bursting at the seams
but that wasn’t the case. I don’t think it was because of any understanding
or tolerance on the part of the Dept. Although, there may have been a
smidgen of humanity involved because everybody knew what a hard
time homosexuals got when they were thrown into jail with the general
population.
Remembering the lecture a typically sensitive duty officer gave prior
to one of my first tours of duty- I can only conclude that their exemption
was only due to limited space in the cells. “I don’t want you dragging any
of those ‘homos’ in here tonight,” the Sgt. exclaimed as he paraded us for
duty, “If you see them walking down Young St. holding hands just ease up
behind them and hit their paws as hard as you can with your nightstick,
they’ll get the picture.”
The Sgt.’s attitude was typical of the unwritten policy of the Dept. in
those days: unless you caught two or more men actually engaged in one of
the litany of sexual offences still laid out in the Criminal Code it was more
or less hands off! As long as the gay community remained in their closets
and the braver ones only came out once a year to participate in the annual
Drag Queen competition at Letro’s tavern, everything ran along smoothly.
That event was a great source of entertainment for homophobes and
crowds numbering in the thousands that would gather to watch the dazzling
cross dressers emerge from their limos and strut into the tavern showing off
the fancy gowns they were required to make for themselves.
It took a long cordon of big policemen to keep the crowd at bay.
Many plainclothes men were also sprinkled throughout the throng separating
the rednecks that might do real harm from the hundreds that simply came to
hoot and jeer and reinforce their masculinity. The Police Dept. was not
alone in its ignorance. Nobody really understood homosexuality in those
days so I suppose that was why the Police Department’s policy was to group
gay men, lesbians, and pedophiles together under the same general heading
of Pervert. It was actually speculated that young gay men were pedophiles
in training waiting their turn to mature and start hanging around schoolyards
and parks.
Gay guys were misunderstood but the ladies in the lesbian community

were a true enigma. Unless you knew where to look they were almost
invisible in the 1960’s. Unfortunately the women of that community that
were first to come out and declare themselves were definitely not
representative. When I was a kid living near Cabbage Town I often
encountered them and they left a lasting impression on me. I had to walk
passed the Spot One Grill on Dundas St. on my way to school each day. It
was a greasy spoon that was the major hangout for the city’s prostitutes and
a small number of women desperately uncomfortable in their gender. They
were male wannabes who bound their breasts, butched their hair and dressed
in men’s suits and shoes. These Dikes as they were crudely labelled all acted
tough and macho and I had to be very careful about what I said or did
around them. They delighted in beating the hell out of any male they felt
they could overpower. These women were anomalies and not representative
of the lesbian population as a whole but they certainly made a lasting
impression on a ten-year-old boy.
It was these often-violent women and the guys who used the glory
holes and bathhouses that members of the force were most often in contact
with. Somewhere along the way the powers that be decided to group
homosexuals, gay and lesbian, together with pedophiles and simply label
them all perverts.
Of course we all know now that pedophiles are a different story; some
like many of the priests and scoutmasters in the city, in those days, merely
cherished children from a distance and kept their urges under control. Those
who did not and actually physically interfered with a child were shown no
mercy when they encountered the police. Most cops were family men and I
shudder to think of what went on behind the closed doors of the detectives’
offices when they interrogated a confirmed offender, and that was nothing
compared to the treatment they later got from cellmates. Even convicted
murderers took exception to being locked up with the low lifes they called
Diddlers. These child molesters, for their own good, were always isolated
from the rest of the prisoners but somehow it often happened that a few
uncomfortable days transpired before suitable safe accommodations could
be found.
It wasn’t until much later, after Trudeau’s famous “Bedrooms of the
Nation” directive that we realized how wrong minded we all had been.
That’s when closet doors flew open and several friends I knew and
respected took the opportunity to declare themselves. It was because of that
enlightenment that I was happy to be only slightly involved in the clean-up
campaign that took place in High Park in 1965.
Because the parks were the responsibility of the Mounted Unit we

were often in contact with members of the gay community who used certain
of these quiet places to meet other guys. In the sixties High Park was the
location of choice. Anticipated liaisons were not a simple matter of boy
meets boy. In those days it was against the law and a certain amount of
discretion and stealth was essential. To that end, a pair of binoculars was
required so potential partners could be checked out from a safe distance.
These young men were still unfairly grouped together with the
pedophiles and since they both carried field glasses it was sometimes
difficult to tell them apart. Maybe that was why the Dept. found it so
convenient to just call them all perverts and let God sort them out.
In retrospect we probably could have easily distinguished between
them because the gay guys were all young men who used the park at night
while the pedofiles were usually dirty old repeat offenders who we caught
hiding behind trees dressed in long overcoats and ogling the kids on school
outings. These, of course, are gross generalities. However the confusion did
exist and as a result the lockers in the stable at the centre of the park were
crammed with confiscated binoculars from both sources.
During the daylight hours and early evening the guys assigned to the
park patrolled on horseback but for a period of the shift the horses were left
in the stable and the guys went out in plain clothes hoping to attract the
attention of some of the more persistent offenders. I say plain clothes but as
time went on some of the cops, wanting to maximize their effectiveness,
started wearing more flamboyant outfits and affecting what they considered
typical gay guy mannerisms. One cop, who was particularly good at this
ruse was a comical cockney named Chris Sandwell. He would strike out in
the evening in an outfit he termed fetching and flit around the park till he
snagged a guy or two that he could arrest or caution. When any of us would
accuse him of being a little too good at what he was doing he would assume
a typical pose and lisp out, “Oh grow up!” I guess ten years in the navy had
given him a broader perspective than ours. In any event he had the largest
collection of binoculars on the unit and was instrumental in making the park
safe for kids and persuading the gay community to change hookup locations.
That was the last campaign of its sort in the Toronto parks and shortly
after tolerance and common sense prevailed. Today men and women of all
persuasions rightfully enjoy the freedom of the greenbelts. Pedophiles,
however, still cringe when they hear the sound of approaching hoof beats.