For decades before mainstream acceptance, the Belmont Rocks served as a vital sanctuary for Chicago’s LGBTQ+ community. This unique lakefront area, stretching from Belmont Harbor to Diversey Harbor, became a cherished public space claimed and cultivated by LGBTQ+ individuals from the 1960s through the 1990s. More than just a popular spot by the water, the Belmont Rocks represented a powerful political statement, deeply intertwined with the burgeoning gay liberation movement. In a time when LGBTQ+ bars often operated with obscured windows, the Rocks stood as a defiant symbol of the right to exist, to gather openly, and to bask in the sunlight.
This seemingly unremarkable strip of uneven limestone blocks became a vibrant hub for community building. The Belmont Rocks were a place where relationships blossomed, friendships were forged, and connections were made. It was a space for clandestine encounters and committed partnerships, for somber memorials and joyful celebrations. Sex, picnics, cookouts, impromptu dance parties, and passionate rallies – the Rocks hosted the full spectrum of human experience. Many stones were adorned with artwork, reflecting the creativity and spirit of the community. People flocked to the Belmont Rocks to soak up the sun, to witness breathtaking sunsets before venturing out for the night, and to share quiet moments watching the sunrise after the bars closed.
My own introduction to the Belmont Rocks occurred in the early 1980s. Stumbling upon them unexpectedly, I was immediately struck by a palpable energy in the air. As I drew closer, the atmosphere seemed to crackle with sexual tension and excitement. This feeling was pervasive, almost tangible. For the next decade, I became a regular fixture at the Rocks, spending countless hours lounging on a blanket, engaging in cruising and socializing, pretending to write, enjoying cannabis, and meeting lovers and lifelong friends. The Belmont Rocks were as crucial to my development and socialization as a gay man in Chicago during that era as the gay bars themselves. These memories are deeply etched in my mind, always bringing a smile. Tragically, many of the friends I made during my time at the Rocks are no longer with us, lost primarily to the AIDS epidemic that devastated our community. The Belmont Rocks offered a space for respite and connection, even as the epidemic cast a long shadow, making it difficult for those suffering to openly display the illness’s effects in more traditional social settings.
While some might consider Hollywood Beach as a modern successor to the Belmont Rocks, the two spaces are fundamentally different. The Belmont Rocks were born from a need to assert identity and claim space. Hollywood Beach, in contrast, is a more conventionally welcoming lakefront environment, characterized by volleyball courts and sandy shores. It symbolizes inclusion and perhaps assimilation, but in that shift, something essential was lost. This mirrors the changing landscape of gay neighborhoods. While inclusivity is valuable, there’s an undeniable energy and dynamism that arises from a high concentration of LGBTQ+ individuals in a dedicated space, something the Belmont Rocks uniquely fostered.
Several weeks ago, while biking to work in Lakeview, a wave of nostalgia prompted me to revisit the Belmont Rocks after years away. However, what I encountered as I approached the lakefront sent a chill through me. The vibrant, sensual, and celebratory space that had been such a pivotal landmark in Chicago’s LGBTQ+ history was gone. The Belmont Rocks had been sterilized, sanitized, and utterly stripped of the art, life, and erotic energy that had defined its unique character.
In 2003, the Belmont Rocks were bulldozed and removed as part of a shoreline revetment project, ostensibly to protect against erosion. Thanks to the dedicated efforts of individuals like Charlotte Newfeld and Alderman Tunney, some of the original stones bearing artwork were salvaged and integrated into the upper layer of the new wall or repurposed as seating within the park. However, the result felt hollow. A scattering of repurposed limestone blocks simply could not recapture the essence of the Belmont Rocks.
I photographed the transformed space and shared it on my Facebook page with a simple, stark caption: “The Rocks Are Dead.” The response was overwhelming. I was unprepared for how deeply that photo and comment would resonate with so many people. Returning home, I delved into old photo albums and unearthed images of the Belmont Rocks in their prime – people relaxing, partying, sun-drenched days, past boyfriends, even just the unique topography of the area. The reaction to these photos was even more intense than to the initial image of the now-desecrated space.
Within hours, people began sharing their own photos, memories, anecdotes, and heartfelt reflections on what the Belmont Rocks had meant to them. The sheer joy and enthusiasm in sharing these stories and images was remarkable. This spontaneous outpouring of collective memory organically gave rise to a project. Within two weeks, the concept for a book, A Place For Us: LGBTQ Life at the Belmont Rocks, began to take shape.
The sudden surge of energy and community engagement surrounding this project is incredibly exciting. My aim is to channel this passion and effectively convey the spirit of the Belmont Rocks. I believe it is crucial for our community to preserve this memory. I see this project as a vital act of historical and cultural preservation.
My vision for A Place For Us is to create a comprehensive scrapbook of a time, a place, and a cultural phenomenon. The Belmont Rocks were an undeniably important chapter in Chicago LGBTQ+ history; it’s an integral part of our collective narrative and a stark example of how easily pieces of history can vanish within our lifetimes. Many of us have learned firsthand the profound importance of preserving LGBTQ+ history, having witnessed so much loss and so many voices silenced during the AIDS epidemic. A Place for Us is a way to both remember that era and to honor those who are no longer with us.
I am actively seeking photographs, drawings, personal recollections, memories, and anecdotes – up to 500 words in length – that illuminate LGBTQ+ life at the Belmont Rocks. I even intend to include police reports, as they are also a part of the story. If the Belmont Rocks held significance in your life, please consider contributing anything that captures what the Rocks meant to you. Through a united community effort, we can offer future generations of LGBTQ+ Chicagoans a window into a different time and ensure they understand the profound role this gathering place played in our shared history.
The physical Belmont Rocks may be gone, but we have a powerful opportunity to harness the memories, the stories, and the enduring spirit that emanated from that extraordinary place. Preserving our past is not just an option; it is our responsibility.
A blurry image of people gathered at Belmont Rocks, sunbathing and socializing
A blurred image showing a group of people sitting and reclining on Belmont Rocks, some are wearing swimwear, enjoying a sunny day.
A blurry snapshot of several people casually dressed, sitting and standing on the Belmont Rocks, engaging in conversation.
A slightly out-of-focus picture of individuals on Belmont Rocks, some in swimwear, lounging and enjoying the sun.
A blurry, wide shot of Belmont Rocks with people spread out, some near the water, others further back, enjoying a day at the lakefront.
A slightly blurry image of a pair of people sitting close together on Belmont Rocks, facing the lake, with other individuals scattered in the background.
A blurry photograph of people relaxing on Belmont Rocks, some are lying down, others are sitting, enjoying the sun and lake breeze.
A blurry image capturing a group of people gathered closely on Belmont Rocks, appearing to be engaged in a lively conversation or event.
