history, society

Pub Owner Bet Van Beeren Created a Safe Haven in Gay Capital Amsterdam

A safe haven for artistic souls and the gay capital of the world – that is the reputation that Amsterdam gained in the second half of the twentieth century. One of the legendary pioneers behind these developments was Bet van Beeren, who, during the tumultuous years of the last century, turned her bar, ’t Mandje, into a small queer capital. It was a place where everyone was welcome – including those on the fringes of society.

Anyone stepping into Amsterdam’s café ’t Mandje today feels as though they’re entering a museum. And until recently, anyone visiting the Amsterdam Museum could find themselves stepping into ’t Mandje – or at least a replica of it. In recent years, the pub on the Zeedijk has gained significant importance as part of Amsterdam’s cultural heritage. This status has even been formally recognised by including ’t Mandje in the Canon of Amsterdam, which firmly embeds the pub in the city’s collective memory and historical narrative.

How ’t Mandje earned such a heritage-worthy reputation is a story that begins in 1927, when Bet van Beeren (1902–1967) took over the café from her uncle.

Heart’s Day

Bet van Beeren came from a working-class family. Her father was a street paver, and her mother ran a boarding house called De Rode Lantaarn (The Red Lantern) on Boomstraat. The family lived in the famous working-class neighbourhood the Jordaan, which was still largely a slum in the early twentieth century. In her mother’s boarding house, Bet had to help with bottling beer. Perhaps this was where Bet gained her first experience running a hospitality establishment; in any case, she became well acquainted with beer – a sign of things to come in her later life.

At the age of twenty-five, she took over Café De Amstelstroom from her uncle and renamed it ’t Mandje. The café was located on Zeedijk, traditionally a place of entertainment for those seeking experiences typically frowned upon by the “respectable” middle class. Since the seventeenth century, Zeedijk had been known as an unsafe area where sailors, sex workers, criminals and others living on the margins of society hung out. It was a place of partying and dancing, where lost provincial visitors were robbed, and where, during the famous centuries-old Hartjesdag (Heart’s Day) festival in August, men would dress as women and vice versa.

At the beginning of the twentieth century, many migrants also came to this part of the city. Just off Zeedijk, on the Binnen Bantammerstraat, Europe’s first Chinatown began to develop, as many Chinese dockworkers settled there, who then sought their entertainment back on the Zeedijk. In the 1920s, some of Amsterdam’s first jazz clubs were also established in the area. Artists, often of Surinamese descent, performed there for a diverse audience.

It was in this stronghold of subversiveness and cultural mingling that Bet ran her business. The subversive spirit of the Zeedijk suited the young pub owner well. She was said to have the gift of the gab typical of someone from the Jordaan, and she could hold her own in a fight when the Zeedijk crowd got too rowdy. She also enjoyed teasing her customers – for instance, by chopping off the neckties of posh gentlemen with a large butcher’s knife. She’d then hang them from the ceiling.

But it was also the clientele that truly made ’t Mandje a special place. At a time when those who didn’t conform to the prevailing sexual norms were shunned from most establishments for fear of damaging their reputations, these individuals were welcomed at Bet’s – who herself was attracted to women. Her clientele consisted largely (but not exclusively) of gay men and women. At ’t Mandje, they could meet others openly, without immediate repression.

No soppy nonsense

The importance of places like these cannot be overstated. In the period leading up to the Second World War, pubs were frequently raided by the vice squad if there was any suspicion that homosexuals were gathering there. The local council and police had all sorts of ways to make the existence of these pubs as difficult as possible. For example, they would refuse to issue licences for playing music or serving strong alcohol. If, during an inspection, it turned out that music was being played or gin was being served, the police had the authority to shut the place down.

Even worse was if the police caught men engaging in intimate behaviour. Then they could close the place down on the grounds of facilitating indecency. As a result, the police often carried out raids on cafés and pubs frequented by homosexuals. Because of the threat from the police, and because, in addition to homosexuals, sex workers and their potential clients also came to the café, Bet was forced to implement a strict morality policy. Moreover, Bet personally did not appreciate any “soppy nonsense”. Kissing and other forms of intimacy were strictly forbidden.

The café was styled like a traditional working-class brown café, much like those found in the working-class neighbourhood where the owner came from. The fact that this pub welcomed people from lower social classes is significant. The 1920s were a difficult time for Amsterdam, as the city was struggling with a severe housing shortage. This was particularly problematic for the working class. Large families often lived in small, often poorly built homes with few local amenities. A near-total lack of privacy was the norm for this segment of society. That lack of privacy, combined with strong social control and the prevailing stigma surrounding homosexuality, made it extremely difficult for men and women attracted to the same sex and living in these neighbourhoods to make connections or form relationships. They had to rely on public spaces, such as pubs.

However, many pubs that catered to a homosexual clientele were highly exclusive. They were often stylishly decorated, charged high entrance fees, or required an introduction from an existing patron. Moreover, these cafés largely catered exclusively to men. At the time, Amsterdam could hardly be considered a “gay capital”. On an international scale, Berlin was more deserving of that honour. Still, there were certainly places in Amsterdam that were open to people from all walks of life, regardless of sexual orientation or class, such as ’t Mandje. Everyone was welcome there.

Bet van Beeren was a devoted royalist. The entire café was adorned with photos of the Dutch royal family. Queen’s Day was a massive celebration. ’t Mandje would be decked out with orange streamers, and there was dancing. In those days, people often looked askance at men dancing with women. At ’t Mandje, they took things even further: on Queen’s Day, men could dance with men, and women with women. The fact that Bet herself enjoyed flirting with beautiful women no doubt helped foster the welcoming atmosphere in her pub.

The war years

When the Netherlands capitulated in 1940 and was occupied by Nazi Germany, it was a shock for many Dutch homosexuals. They had heard stories about the persecution of homosexuals in Germany and the destruction of the Institut für Sexualwissenschaft in Berlin. Advocacy organisations for homosexuals were dissolved, and magazines were shut down, after which all documentation of members and subscribers was destroyed. In 1941, the Amsterdam police commissioner provided a list to the Sicherheitsdienst with the names of people known to the police as homosexual.

In this uncertain period, strangely enough, more queer bars appeared in Amsterdam. The exact reason for this is unclear. Perhaps some pubs financially benefited from the curious German soldiers who visited them. However, due to the fear of checks by the same German soldiers, many homosexual men and women dared not visit these public venues. Zeedijk was a slightly different story. Due to its subversive reputation, German soldiers were prohibited from going there during their free time. This created opportunities for the owner of ‘t Mandje, who managed to maintain the reputation of her café as a refuge during the war years.

Wild stories circulate about Bet van Beeren’s activities during the war. It is said that she hid weapons for the resistance group of Gerrit van der Veen in her attic. These weapons were nearly discovered by a German patrol, if not for Van Beeren’s quick wit, which helped her talk the soldiers into leaving. She also managed to hide several Jewish people in ‘t Mandje.

At the same time, German soldiers, whether homosexual or not, sometimes came to Van Beeren’s café for a beer, despite the ban. One of the many anecdotes about her and her café tells of a German soldier who was amazed at the number of photos of the Queen and the royal family hanging in the pub. Such declarations of loyalty to the Dutch sovereign were, of course, forbidden by the occupiers. These acts of resistance contributed greatly to how Bet was remembered: combative, courageous and stubborn.

Posthumous recognition

After the war, ’t Mandje became more popular than ever among gay men and women. With the rise of the COC (the Dutch LGBTQ+ rights organisation) in the 1950s, Amsterdam began to establish itself internationally as the queer capital of Europe, at least for gay men. Additionally, more and more queer bars opened that also lasted longer and were more unreserved. During this time, Bet van Beeren’s reputation grew to the point where some even dubbed her the Queen of Zeedijk. She was familiar with both the criminal underworld and the police and managed to keep both on her side. She was on good terms with other legendary figures from the Red Light District, such as Major Bosshardt, who led the Salvation Army in the area for many years. Bet van Beeren rode a motorbike in a leather outfit, often with an attractive woman on the back.

Still, ’t Mandje’s reputation remained too vulgar for many, partly because homosexuality was still not accepted during this period. In 1962, Bet van Beeren was passed over for a royal honour when the priest of the Nicolaas Church and Major Bosshardt refused to nominate her due to “her lifestyle.” When Princess Beatrix was given a tour of the Red Light District by Major Bosshardt in 1965, they skipped ’t Mandje, much to Bet’s fury, who longed for nothing more than to host a member of the royal family.

Towards the end of her life, Bet drank heavily – some say she downed as many as forty beers a day. She died in 1967 at the age of 65. Her body lay in state for two days in ’t Mandje, atop the billiard table. Her sister Greet took over the bar but was forced to close it in 1983 due to the ongoing nuisance caused by the heroin epidemic on Zeedijk.

Safe haven

The recognition Bet never received during her lifetime was eventually granted to her posthumously. In 1999, a replica of the bar’s interior was included in the Amsterdam Museum. In 2008, the bar itself was reopened, with its interior meticulously reconstructed to match how it looked during Bet’s time in charge. That same year, ’t Mandje was added to the Canon of Amsterdam.

Although Bet van Beeren did not live to witness the major milestones in the LGBTQ+ emancipation from the 1970s onwards, including Amsterdam’s crowning as the gay capital of the world, she created her own small queer capital on Zeedijk. ’t Mandje was a safe haven for people who had nowhere else to go during some of the most turbulent decades in twentieth-century Amsterdam. The crisis years of the 1930s, the occupation and the post-war reconstruction – Bet van Beeren was never discouraged and persevered.

Amsterdam has changed dramatically since 1927, when Bet took over the bar. Today, fierce debates rage about the character of the city. Is it still the free haven it once was? If Van Beeren were to return now, it’s uncertain whether she would even recognise her hometown. But her old bar on Zeedijk still stands, and perhaps that apparent timelessness is precisely why ’t Mandje has been immortalised as cultural heritage. A physical reminder for Amsterdammers afraid of losing their city: that despite its constant evolution, there are still places where the spirit of Amsterdam as a safe haven lives on.

• Amsterdam
• gay
• LGTBQ+