Probably in July of '68, I was walking home from Golden Gate Park down Page Street heading east either to my room or to a Chinese restaurant for dinner. It was around just after five in the evening, and there was a lot of people in the street. These were some hippies, but most were young adults coming home from work. Many were well dressed some in suits. Suddenly there was commotion in the intersection ahead. A three wheeled motorcycle cop had parked his cycle in the middle of the intersection. With a long baton he ran at people swinging his club wildly at anybody he could get near. I thought this rather strange, since most of these people were like me, walking along the street to get to wherever they were going.
I kept on walking. As I approached Clayton Street some more cops arrived and it was a regular melee with cops chasing people previously minding their own business down the street. As I was crossing Clayton a young woman came abreast of me and said follow me. People were running in every direction. I followed her to a door on the corner house of Clayton and Page Street. She produced a key and told me I should come in. We will be safe here. She lived upstairs and I followed her. We walked into a living room. Therein an older woman, maybe mid or late thirties was seated in a lounge chair smoking a pipe and reading the paper dressed in man's clothes. She promptly announced that if the cops tried to come in here she had a gun. Thus was my first knowing experience with a Dyke. The other woman was younger, very feminine, good looking blonde, well dressed and would never guess a lesbian.
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