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I think the Peel Pub still exists but long ago morphed into a straight student hangout. He noticed so we left, worried he would turn us in for being underage. Then we went to the Peel Pub, and after about an hour, saw a teacher from our school.
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Free drinks! I recognized one of the younger old guys, in his 30s, from tv but couldn't place him.
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First The Mystique on Stanley, a wrinkle room plus we were there at around 8:30 and the Saturday afternoon alky crowd was way past shitfaced and obnoxious with each other, but very nice with us. Fun times! Offsite Link by Anonymousģ in Montreal on my first night. The few times the bars were raided, the DJ would flick the lights on and off and all the underage kids would head to the middle of the dance floor, where the older patrons would dance around us, keeping us away from the view of the police. I remember Rumour Hazzit and DOK West as my favorites, they were 18 and over, but we underage kids so would get to the bar really early, like 7 pm before the doorman arrived and just hung out, trying to stay out of the bartender's radar, till the place filled and we could dance freely. Plus recording artist like Madonna, Billy Idol, would bring their new demos to the club and play and see how the teen patrons liked it.īut I lived in Orange County so getting to LA wasn't convenient, so I started going to the gay bars in Garden Grove, which were easier to get to. We'd sneak in booze and mix it in with the non-alcoholic drinks we bought in the club. All the teen celebrities of that time hung out there. But I got in (in hindsight, what 14 yr old has an ID w/DOB on it?) It was 1978 and it was the coolest place in town. It was a gay teen club - maybe the only of its kind? I think the age limit was 15 to 24, I remember being really nervous the first time i went because I was only 14 and the youngest in our group and didn't want to be left behind. The Odyssey, a disco in LA/Beverly Hills adjacent on Beverly Blvd, cross street La Cienega Blvd. Shortly after that, I took a trip to Washington, DC, and found my second home at Tracks. I celebrated my 18th birthday at Nomad Village. (It was a urinal and a toilet in an open room, so it was easy to do.) He ran his hand above my dick and purred, "Niiiiice." I ran out of there to the safety of my boyfriend. True to form, Jimmy followed me in the bathroom at one point to take a gander at my junk. And I remember the painting they had of a sheikh on black velvet. It was a neighborhood bar in what was, at the time, a very small town in a very rural area. The girl she was with had to talk her down.
The lesbian gym-teacher (whose name I cannot remember) was there with a former student from my class, saw me, and FREAKED THE FUCK OUT. My high school English teacher, the ever-effete Mr.
Since it was off season, only the front bar was open on weekdays, and it was filled with closeted, Sussex County rednecks. My first boyfriend told me I'd never get into the Renegade in Rehoboth - even during the off-season - and since the bartender at Nomad (Jimmy) was a notorious "chicken hawk," I was sure to get in there. My first gay bar was the bar at Nomad Village in Bethany Beach, DE.
Later it was the peep shows in the Combat Zone. Plus the porn movies: the Bijou, the Art Cinema, the Pilgrim and the State were a fuckfest every night. And you could always park on the street near by. The Other Side was the best place to get drugs and find fucked-up Southie hotties, Herbie’s Ramrod Room was the leather bar, the 1270 was the best place to dance, Sporters, Buddies, and later Fritz, the Eagle, and the Merrimack to name a few. JFK supposedly went there as a Harvard undergrad in the 1930’s. It and they had been around forever and when she lived in town, Judy Garland was a regular. I could have made a fortune filing the claim forms for the rest of the customers there.
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I had a decent baritone and a summer job working for Blue Cross/Blue Shield and would help her with her Medicare claims: it was new then and no one knew how to get paid. No fake ID needed 17 and I was, um, very popular with the aging clientele (“look and maybe buy me a drink but don’t touch”) but even closer to Marie, the pianist who had been a showgirl going back to the Zeigfeld era. The Napoleon Club, aka “The Wrinkle Room” in Boston’s Bay Village circa 1967.