They were places where, for almost the first time, men and women and blacks and whites could drink and socialize together. Now, speakeasies were operating beyond the law, in dark alleys and hidden cellars, beyond respectable society. It was during this brash and lawless period that we first have documentation of the existence of a speakeasy called Maxine’s owned by Ed King at 243 S Camac St. Whenever I’m asked if there is a place I could point out that was a former Philadelphia speakeasy, I always say it would be harder to find a place in the city that wasn’t one. Some estimated that there were over 12,000 speakeasies in the city.
During the 1920s, under national Prohibition, in addition to the clubs, Camac Street was home to odd little restaurants, quaint tea rooms and of course, speakeasies.įrom 1920, when it took effect, until 1932, when it was repealed, Philadelphia pretty much dealt with Prohibition by ignoring it. Soon the “Little Street of Clubs,” as it was called, had the reputation of being Philadelphia’s own bohemian district. By 1915, the Stragglers’ Club, the Poor Richard Club, the Franklin Inn, the Sketch Club and the Plastic Club had all settled there, (see the sketch by Frank Taylor, left). Its intimate scale and old fashioned feeling gave it a special appeal to the many literary, advertising and art clubs that made the street their home in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. Many of the tiny two story houses on Camac Street date from the early 19th century, when the narrow thoroughfare was called Dean Street. (Yes, I’m working on it!)įor the answer to our second question, though, we’ll probably have to look in the heart of the modern Gayborhood on quiet, tree-lined Camac Street.
Much of the story of pre-WWII Philadelphia queer history still needs to be researched and written. Without a doubt, we had the same 19th century underground cultures here as New York did, but conservative Philadelphia seems to have discreetly avoided discussing or documenting them as much. George Chauncey has done a wonderful job of documenting gay culture in New York back to the 19th century in his book Gay New York, and Marc Stein has done the same for Philadelphia from WWII through the early 1970s in his City of Sisterly and Brotherly Loves. The answer to the first question is simply that we don’t know. Philadelphia, being perhaps the most historically minded city in the country, boasts a mile-long long list of “firsts” and “oldests.” The obvious questions to ask are “What was the first gay bar here?” and “Which is the oldest existing gay bar in Philly today?”