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San Francisco’s Oldest Lesbian Bar Has Been a Safe Space for More Than 60 Years

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(From left) Timotha Doane, Beth Stephens, and Annie Sprinkle sit at the bar at Wild Side West in San Francisco’s Bernal Heights neighborhood on Feb. 6, 2025. Founded in 1962, Wild Side West is a historic lesbian bar that began in Oakland before relocating to San Francisco, where it became a gathering space known for its eclectic decor, lush garden, and deep roots in the LGBTQ+ community. (Beth LaBerge/KQED)

View the full episode transcript.

San Francisco has long been an epicenter for lesbian life and culture. Even back in the 1930s, spots like Mona’s 440 Club were known as hubs for lesbians to enjoy drag king performances and socialize. But in the past 30 years, the number of lesbian bars all over the country has seen a steep decline.

Of the few remaining lesbian bars in San Francisco, there’s one spot that stands out for its longevity. The Wild Side West has been a staple of lesbian culture in the city for the past 63 years.

Located in the Bernal Heights neighborhood of San Francisco, The Wild Side West is an iconic spot. Inside, the bar feels like it’s always been this way, with women playing pool, kegs lining the walls, and paintings of nude women hanging from the ceiling.

And if there is one person who knows this bar well, it’s Timotha Doane, an 80-year-old lesbian who has been a regular at the bar since she was 24. When she walks into the bar, everyone seems to know her.

Bartender Heather Dunham works at the Wild Side West on Feb. 6, 2025. (Beth LaBerge/KQED)
Left: The exterior of The Wild Side West. Right: Timotha Doane talks with fellow patrons at the Wild Side West on Jan. 28, 2025. (Beth LaBerge/KQED)

“I come here almost every day,” Doane said with a laugh. “Sometimes I take a break. I don’t want to encourage too much drinking.”

Doane said she’s had some wild nights here over the decades. She remembers when Janis Joplin was a regular and had stories to tell about many past girlfriends.

“There’s just so much history [here],” she said.

Originally called The Wild Side, Pat Ramseyer and Nancy White were lesbian partners who founded this bar in North Oakland in 1962. Shortly after opening, they relocated the business to San Francisco and became The Wild Side West, laying down roots in the North Beach neighborhood on Broadway.

Paintings hang on the wall at The Wild Side West. (Beth LaBerge/KQED)

While San Francisco at the time was already becoming a cultural hub for the LGBTQ community, queerness during the early 1960s was still marked by policing, discrimination and violence.

Even in the most progressive cities, the dominant narrative around LGBTQ was that homosexuality was a sickness, a problem that needed to be handled. Doane remembers one time in New York City in the ’60s when she was targeted for her lesbian identity and masculine presentation. Several young men beat her up in broad daylight.

At the time The Wild Side West opened, consensual acts between same-sex individuals were still criminalized in California, and it was illegal to employ women bartenders. In San Francisco, well-known gay and lesbian watering holes were often raided by police. Officers would arrest patrons and were known to extort money from bar and club owners.

Left: Patrons play pool at Wild Side West on Jan. 28, 2025. Right: The wall behind a pool table is filled with posters and photos at The Wild Side West. (Beth LaBerge/KQED)

In this climate, a bar owned by lesbians, catering to the lesbian community, was bold.

The Wild Side West quickly became a space of joy and community for many women. It was a place where dancers from the nearby strip clubs gathered, where lesbians could find safety, and where an eccentric crowd of artists drank.

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“It’s hard to express what it means to find a refuge and respect,” Doane said. “A place where you can have fun and not worry about being attacked.”

But anti-gay sentiment was still alive in San Francisco just outside the doors of the bar.

When The Wild Side West moved to its current Bernal Heights location in 1976, some neighbors weren’t happy about it. It was not uncommon for trash, broken toilets, and bathtubs to be dumped against the door of the bar.

“On a very, very regular basis, [Pat and Nancy] would have to move all of those things in order to get the bar open,” said long-time regular Mimi Caesar.

Pat Ramseyer and Nancy White would drag the broken sinks and bathtubs to the back of the bar and turn them into art pieces or planters. Decades later, those pieces make unique seating areas for patrons, adorned with vines and surrounded by eclectic statues.

The bar opens to a sculpture-filled garden at The Wild Side West. (Beth LaBerge/KQED)

In recent years, many lesbian establishments across San Francisco have closed, but it’s hard to know exactly why. Some people think that the rise of dating apps has made it easier to meet romantic partners, rendering physical lesbian bars less necessary. Some former lesbian bar owners cite gentrification as a root cause. Or, it could be that in a city as expensive as San Francisco, it’s hard for bars to stay afloat if they cater exclusively to women — especially gay women, many of whom have faced discrimination in the workplace for both gender and sexuality, which can lower earnings and limit spending power.

But The Wild Side West has managed to stay open. One reason it has survived is the committed clientele. Some people have been consistently coming to the bar for 10, 20, or even 50 years, like Timotha Doane. It might also be that in recent years, more men have started going to the bar. Either way, The Wild Side West has continued to be a refuge for lesbians in a time where the LGBTQ community faces a new wave of attacks.

“Women come here, and they feel safe to be whoever they are, however they want to be,” Doane said. “And to me, that is a treasure that cannot be praised highly enough.”

Episode Transcript

This is a computer-generated transcript. While our team has reviewed it, there may be errors.

Olivia Allen-Price: Maybe you’ve seen this iconic picture of San Francisco history — two women, walking proudly in San Francisco’s gay freedom parade in 1979.

Sounds of a parade

Olivia Allen-Price: They’re holding up a huge banner that says: “A day without lesbians is like a day without sunshine.”

The Bay Area has long been known as an epicenter for queer life — and queer women have been building community in San Francisco for almost 100 years.

1930s era music starts playing

Even way back in the 1930’s San Francisco already had places like Mona’s 440 Club.

Olivia Allen-Price: It was known as the first lesbian night club in San Francisco and it was the destination for genderfluid lesbians. At Mona’s, drag king performances were front and center, and the club was advertised as a place “Where girls can be boys.”

Since then, San Francisco has seen a lot of lesbian establishments come and go. But, there is one spot that has survived the longest — The Wild Side West.

This week on Bay Curious, we’re heading to the Bernal Heights bar that has been serving lesbians since 1962. We meet a longtime patron who has seen the culture of the city and the lesbian community transform over the decades.

I’m Olivia Allen-Price, stay with us.

Music ends

[SPONSOR MESSAGE]

Olivia Allen-Price: To tell us about lesbian history in San Francisco, we’re passing it to our very own queer reporter Ana De Almeida Amaral.

Ana De Almeida Amaral: The Wild Side West has been around for over 60 years. And while so much has changed in the decades since it opened, the inside of the bar feels like it’s always been this way. Kegs lined up against the wall, old portraits of nude women hanging from the ceiling. But the defining characteristic of the Wild Side West is the garden. To get there you walk through the bar, out the back door and down a steep flight of wooden stairs.

Ana De Almeida Amaral in tape: So there’s a sign that says Pat’s magical garden. And there is just already so many really odd pieces of art. A lot of frog statues … quite a few mannequin limbs. And then over here, there’s like an old bathtub that has been turned into a planter and it has a bunch of plants growing out of it.

Ana De Almeida Amaral: People sit and chat among a maze of greenery and statues. The space feels whimsical and intimate.

The Wild Side West is located in the Bernal Heights neighborhood of San Francisco, which for a while was known as a lesbian enclave. And while today, some may consider it to be a neighborhood dive bar, the identity of this place and the commitment of its patrons make it an institution.

And if there is anyone who can tell us about the history and spirit of this bar, it is Timotha Doane.

Timotha Doane: I am talking to you in the oldest lesbian bar in San Francisco, and I’m the oldest lesbian in it (laughs).

Ana De Almeida Amaral: Timotha is 80 years old and has been coming to this bar for 57 years. The original owners of The Wild Side West have passed away, so Timotha is one of few people who have been coming here since its very early days. She’s someone who can talk about what it was like to be a lesbian at the time this bar was founded.

I met Timotha at the bar on a weekday afternoon.

Music and sounds of the bar start 

Timotha Doane: I come here almost every day. Sometimes I take a break. I don’t want to encourage too much drinking (laughs).

Ana De Almeida Amaral: We sit down next to a painting of a topless woman and she starts telling me about herself.

Timotha Doane: I came out when I was 18, in 1962.

Ana De Almeida Amaral: She says there were moments when being as open as she is made her a target for violence. She told me about one instance in New York City, when she was in college in the 60’s, just a short time after she came out.

Timotha Doane: I don’t know why this is coming up in my mind right now, but it is — walking down MacDougal Street and me and my butch self, I’ve got two women, one on each arm. On the other side of the street is a group of men my same age, 18, 19 years old. And they came across the street, got in my face. You think you don’t need a man, bitch? And beat the shit out of me.

Ana De Almeida Amaral: Timotha says this was a pivotal moment of awakening for her.

Timotha Doane: So that was the beginning of it. And I just felt like I need to make being a lesbian a safe, reasonable, honest thing to do.

Sounds of the bar fade out

Ana De Almeida Amaral: Being openly lesbian, like Timotha, was still a radical act in the 1960s. And even in the most progressive cities like New York and San Francisco, queer people faced discrimination and violence.

Cascade of archival news tape

Clip 1: During the year 1964, we arrested 3,000 homosexuals. Don’t think you won’t get caught because this is one thing you will not get away with. And the rest of your life will be a living hell.

Clip 2: The problem of homosexuality …

Clip 3: We do not employ homosexuals and if we discover homosexuals in our department, we discharge them.

Music starts

Ana De Almeida Amaral: The dominant narrative around gay people was that they were sick or a problem to be dealt with. And it was in this climate, in 1962, that Pat Ramseyer and Nancy White opened The Wild Side in North Oakland.

A few years later it moved to San Francisco and became the Wild Side West. Pat and Nancy were lesbians and life partners who managed to open the bar during a time when it was still illegal to employ women as bartenders in California. They’ve both since passed away, but Timotha remembers them fondly.

Timotha Doane: They were wild women, but they were also good business women. And we respected them for that. And at the time, having places for women only took courage.

Music fades out

Ana De Almeida Amaral: When the bar set up shop on Broadway in North Beach, the relationship between the LGBT community and the city was … complicated. On one hand, San Francisco had already been established as a capital for gay life. But even here, the policing of queer life was pervasive and consensual acts between same-sex adults were criminalized. The police were known to extort money from gay and lesbian establishments and often raided them to arrest patrons. All of this was part of a playbook to keep queer people from freely socializing. So a bar owned by lesbians, catering to lesbians was bold.

Music starts

During this era, Timotha moved to SF and found The Wild Side West.

Timotha Doane: And I started coming to this bar when I was 24 years old. I was working as a stripper on Broadway. Just two doors up the street. So on my breaks, I would put a trench coat on over my G-string and trot on up the street.

Ana De Almeida Amaral: Since then, Wild Side West has been a place of joy and community for her. It’s where dancers gathered, where lesbians could flirt and hang out, and where an eccentric crowd of artists drank with friends.

Music posts

Timotha Doane: It’s hard to express what it means to find a refuge. And respect and a place where you can have fun and not worry about being attacked.

Ana De Almeida Amaral: But anti-gay sentiment was still-alive just outside the doors of the bar.

Music starts

Ana De Almeida Amaral: In 1976, the bar moved to its current Bernal Heights location and some neighbors weren’t happy about it. Mimi, a long-time regular, remembers this era.

Mimi: The folks up there who did not want a lesbian bar, would pretty much show up every morning before opening and put toilet bowls and bathtubs and sinks up against the door so that they couldn’t open it. And on a very, very regular basis, they would have to move all of those things in order to get the bar open.

Ana De Almeida Amaral: Nancy and Pat would lug the toilets and broken sinks to the backyard and transform them into planters, becoming the first pieces in their eccentric backyard collection.

Today, The Wild Side West is one of three dedicated lesbian bars in San Francisco. But there used to be many more.

Here’s Mimi again:

Mimi: When I first got here, there were 10 or 11, seven-day-a-week lesbian bars. And one by one by one drifted. But almost every neighborhood in this city had them, and they all had a different flavor. But that did change.

Ana De Almeida Amaral: It’s hard to know why lesbian bars have been going out of business over the last 20 years.

Music starts

Some people think dating apps have made it easier to meet romantic partners, making physical lesbian bars less necessary. Others say our culture has changed and lots of spaces now feel safe to queer folks. Or, it could be that in a city as expensive as San Francisco, it’s hard for bars to stay afloat if they cater exclusively to women.

But the Wild Side West has endured despite the odds. One obvious explanation is the committed clientele. I mean, there are regulars who’ve been coming here 10, 20 … even 50 years … like Timotha. And in more recent years, it’s also not uncommon to see men here.

Music fades out

Timotha Doane: At the time I started coming here there weren’t any men. But economically, the dyke community couldn’t have supported it to become what it is now.

Ana De Almeida Amaral: Either way, the gritty and tough spirit of this bar perseveres.

Music starts

The Wild Side West is a staple of lesbian history in San Francisco and it’s the oldest, still standing lesbian bar in the city. Lesbians have gathered here for decades. It’s always been a refuge from the violence and discrimination of the outside world.

Timotha Doane: Women come here and they feel safe. And to me, that is a treasure that cannot be praised highly enough.

Ana De Almeida Amaral: As the LGBT community faces a new wave of attacks, regulars like Timotha are once again reminded of how powerful a sanctuary like this can be. They hope the Wild Side West remains a safe place for generations of lesbians to come.

Olivia Allen-Price: That was KQED’s Ana De Almeida Amaral.

Music ends

Special thanks to Caroline Smith, who collected tape for this episode.

Bay Curious is made in San Francisco at member-supported KQED. Individual support from our audience means more than ever right now. If you’d like to help keep shows like Bay Curious going, head to KQED.org/donate. Every bit does help. Thanks!

Our show is made by: Katrina Schwartz, Christopher Beale, and me, Olivia Allen-Price.

Additional engineering this week by Brian Douglas.

Special thanks to those in the KQED podcasting department: Maha Sanad, Katie Springer, Alana Wilson, Jen Chien, Holly Kernan, and everyone on Team KQED.

Some members of the KQED podcast team are represented by The Screen Actors Guild, American Federation of Television and Radio Artists. San Francisco Northern California Local.

I’m Olivia Allen-Price. Have a great week!

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