by Edward Guthmann
When Todd Trexler arrived in the Castro district in 1965, the neighborhood was a quiet, Irish Catholic enclave with lots of families.
Ten years later, it was the epicenter of San Francisco gay life. Bars like Toad Hall, the Midnight Sun and the Elephant Walk opened their doors. Long-haired men walked hand in hand down the street – dressed in leather, feathers or not much at all – celebrating an unabashed sexuality that obliterated the neighborhood’s former identity.
“I later got blamed for the whole thing,” Trexler, 69, joked recently.
