No, dear - used to live in Philadelphia, now I live in San Diego.
Philadelphia, for the record, has Woody’s, 12th Air Command (on 12th Street), Key West, Sister’s (lesbian bar), the aforementioned Bike Stop (leather/levi), Uncle’s, Westbury, The Venture Inn (restuarant & bar), Ty’s, 2-4 Club (after hours), 247, Tavern on Camac (piano bar), Shampoo (gay on Friday nights), Cheap Art Cafe (diner), Millenium (coffee shop), Giovanni’s Room (one of the oldest bookstores in the country), Afterwords (book/card store), Spruce Street Video. Used to have a place called Kurt’s, but that’s long gone, and some of the bars have gone through name changes (Equus, Sneakers, Raffles, Duck Soup).
I’m sure I’ll find more places here in San Diego, but I sure know my way around Philly…
For the record, dear dreary Altoona has the Escapade (any bar named after a Madonna song is also a candidate for the OP) and Rumors, or, as the owner of the Escapade calls it, Tumors. In State College, about 40 miles north of here, there’s Chumley’s and a dance club that’s only gay on Sundays, Players. In Johnstown, about 60 miles west, there’s Lucille’s. There’s a private club (as in group of members, not dance club) called Bearidise in Milesburg (about 48 miles north) that has bear parties every couple of months.
That’s everything within 75 minutes drive time that I know of. Central PA sucks for gay bars…
The good doctor got it, featherlou. A bear is a large and/or hairy gay man, usually with facial hair. If it matters to anyone, that’s also yours truly. :0) It’s a classification that many bears identify closely with, to the extent of getting tattoos of bear paws or bear heads or bears, period, in various places on their body. I’m definitely considering such a thing.
And yet I’ve never seen a young blond thing with a tattoo of a Hostess snack cake…
There’s a bar in SF called “The Glory Hole”? News to me, and I’ve been here since before VCR’s. Do you mean “The Hole In The Wall”, which bills itself as a nasty little biker bar? And “All American Boy” is an overpriced little clothing store on Castro street. Maybe they serve drinks now!
Speaking of names. There used to be a hetero bar on the edge of the Castro named “Dicks”. When it changed owners, and became a gay bar, they changed the name to “The Jackhammer.” Go figure. Maybe Dick took the name with him.
Buffalo, New York – from what I can remember, there’s Buddies, Club Marcella, M.C. Comptons (lesbian bar), Cybele’s (lesbian coffeehouse), Mickey’s, Buffalo Underground, Rumours, Cathode Ray, Secrets, and Lavender Door. Buffalo once had a lesbian bookstore named Emma.
Generally, I’d go with the “manly industrial” name as a good indicator of a gay bar. A bar with a name like “The Drill Press,” “The Jackhammer,” “Tools” or “Bolt” seem like rather poor hunting grounds to meet women. Thinking about it, “straight” bars are rather poor places to meet women, too.
[slight hijack]
Ah…Lola’s. I miss it now (living in Montana as I do), although the first time I went there I was served a B-52 in a 3/4 ounce shot glass. How do I know the exact size of the glass? Because I was so pissed about paying $4 for such a small shot that I stole the shot glass (What do you want from me? I was 23!). It’s in my liquor cabinet at this moment. The next time I went, my (then) girlfriend (now wife) and I were served the absolute strongest Cape Cods I’ve ever tasted in my life (although Al and Vic’s in Missoula gives them a run for their money); approximately 3/4 vodka. Yikes!
[/slight hijack]
Oh, and to reference the OP (sort of; :o), I, like hazel-rah, saw it and thought immediately, “Gotta be from Houston!”
If memory serves me right, there is a gay bar in Louisville, KY called Connections. I could be wrong, might have been another city, but it goes down as the lamest name for any bar…gay or straight.
Monterey used to have a bar called “After Dark” which billed itself as not really as a gay bar, but to the alternative type people (though it was the only gay hangout in Monterey). After that closed, “Lighthouse Bar and Grill” oened up. The name is pretty innocuous, and the bar was named after the street it sits on - Lighthouse Avenue. Unless you know it’s a gay bar, you really cant tell (and most of the guys who go to it dress pretty “normal” (Meaning prep and casual are the main styles).
Surprisingly, there’s a gay bar/dance club in the small farming town of Castroville called “Norma Jean’s”. It was named after Marilyn Monroe (using her old name, of course). Inside they have a kind of shrine to her. It’s mostly a latin club, and on saturday nights, some of the wait staff there dont speak a word of English. It’s interesting to see the younger guys and then see these older mexican men in western wear there dancing to dance music. I’ve been there once. I dont like it too much because it gets way too crowded, and some of the people there arent considerate and try to do fancy dance moves.
The last time I heard of Lola’s getting raided was back in 93, along with the West Alabama Ice House. Police and courts would rather people pay the P.I. fines, spend their night in jail, and not go to court. But in these cases most people(who didn’t get caught with weed), especially the young professionals, took them to court and claimed false arrest. With such a minor offense per person the odds of the cop even showing up is slim, assuming you gave him no reason to remember you (don’t yell “kiss my ass” to a cop), and the courts get clogged up.
Lola’s doesn’t get the volume of businiss it did in the 80’s, but it still does well. They still have those peak hour specials ($1.50 a beer, well drink, or margarita).
I still remember this 60-something guy with a huge grin on his face in Lola’s yelling “I just got carded!”.
Ah, Lola’s. Manny memories. 'Twas a truly interesting experience to show up there very late one night having not yet consumed and to realize just how loaded everyone in the place (including staff - remember Boogie?) was. And it was an ‘art’ bar as the cheapo booze drew the down and artists of Montrose, who decorated the place. Or, gave us performance art, such as Gerald who one night announced (or was prodded into) his demonstration of interactive media with the derelict console TV set on the patio. He told us the interactivity with the medium would be accomplished by putting his head through the front of the CRT. Interactivity was accomplished, and having seen Gerald in later years, I know he’s a better man for it (he used to be on dial tone, now he gets busy signals, too).
For those who won’t know Road Rash, I’ll explain that while Lola’s is not a gay bar, it exists in the ground zero area for gay bars in Houston. Open to all, hence a significant gay attendance.
Hippie Bill was my favorite dope dealer (coke and meth; I was not a client, but I remember his approach to security - at his home he kept an AR-15 in the Window to ward off cops - yeah, that’ll work), weed was free if you hung out on the patio.
And I’ll say it again, the parade of comely lassies was incredible.
My car got stolen from out in front one night in 1987 and I remember a group of patrons came out of the bar and started giving the cop shit about the DWI the thought he was ragging me for.
I’ve known a lot of bars in my life, but never one quite like Lo-Lo-Lo-La-Lola’s.
You seem to see this as a criticism or put down. It isn’t.
As I understand it, the area in question is disproportionately (compared to surrounding areas) populated with gay individuals. Possibly I am in error, but in any event, there was no implication on my part whether such a condition was desireable or undesireable.
I don’t know whether Encino is “disproportionately heterosexual”. Nor am I particularly curious.
Then I suggest you you choose your words more carefully. “Notorious” is synonymous with “disreputable” or “being of ill-fame”. It has a negative connotation. I accept that you meant no harm.
…our gay bars are mostly in old pubs (real pub, not faux pub), and they tend to bear such racy names as The Exchange, The Market, and The Peel (the original Pub was named after Sir Robert Peel, the man who founded the police force in late eighteenth century Britain).
But my favourite, most leathery, haunt is a very old pub with an ancient name form the mists of Scottish folk lore - The Laird O’ Cockpen.
And what do all the Melbourne leather men call it for short?
Wrong. They call it “The Laird”.
We’re a terribly dignified lot here in Melbourne you know.
Redboss
PS Nickelz your story was beautifully told, and very funny! I hate be a wet blanket, but I suspect that the barman knew you weren’t gay, and was actually having a little joke at your expense. Possibly a few cronies down the end of the bar who were in on it, doubled over laughing when they saw your face change as he told you the “name of the drink”.
No harm done, I guss, and it is a good story. Plus, you got a free shot out of it, so it was his expense too.
And if you hadn’t been turned off? Well that’s another story…
Redboss, this Sydney straight boy has been to the good ol’ Laird, but years ago. It was a good place (even if I did have to avert my delicate eyes from the gay porn on the wide screen - much to the delight of my token gay friend Phil). Glad to hear it’s still going.
