So I ordered a 7 & 7 because I thought that sounded good. The crud and cobwebs are gone, pretty much, but the burgers are still great. I still stop off at Julius' a few times a year. I think that my innocence saved my life since I never really got into what later became known as unsafe sex. From the mid-seventies to the mid-eighties, with hundreds of "tricks" and a few short-lived relationships, I have lots of great stories and no regrets. Got me everywhere, except the Mine Shaft, where I was unceremoniously evicted one night. I adopted the preppie clone look - tight chinos, polos in every color, and penny loafers. Having been told qrowing up that I was dumb and ugly, I was a quick learner. I would come in from the suburbs after work on a Friday afternoon, and with the kindness of strangers, stay through the weekend. Quite literally fresh off the farm, I walked into Julius' one summer night in the mid-seventies and spent the next decade sampling whatever New York had to offer. I remember just about all of these places, and spent way too much time in many of them.
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The Lure - meatpacking district, the strict dress code prevented me from going in with my sneakers, but I was meeting someone there so I waited outside.Īll their 'loaner' boots were being used, so I sat on a platform and scanned guys feet, looking for a pair of sneakers coming out of the bar, which would signal a pair of loaner boots had just become available.īefore I knew it I was really liking just watching men's feet, and didn't even look up to see who they were attached to. my friend, standing with an over priced drink in his hand once drifted off to sleep and fell to the floor antsy rent boys used to circle the bar like sharks, among the tire kicking looky-lou johns. Gay' contest, and a chanteuse warbled at the piano. the two room basement bar was way over-air conditioned, a super hot bartender named Chris competed in some 'Mr. 50-something and 3rd, where a friend and I used to go to try to get johns. Kellers- on West Street, was fun on Sunday afternoons saw Mapplethorpe hang out in a corner, and met a guy I saw in the documentary Word is Out. Known as the Wrinkle Room, it was essentially an alcoholic assisted living facility. When one graduated from the Regent East, which happened very, very late in life, one could move on to the GH Club, way over East on 53rd. The number of people walking between the two seemed as though it would justify chartering a shuttle bus. There was also Bogart's, on East 59th Street, between First and Second. The lights were supplied with the pink bulbs that were typically used in funeral parlors to make the corpses look natural. The Regent East was down a few steps, and was loaded with hunting prints, club chairs, and had a piano in the back. It is the successor to The Regent East, which was at 204 East 58th Street, an address I committed to memory well before I had the nerve to walk in. The Townhouse is still there, although its restaurant has closed. No surprise, really the chain belonged to Lou Katz, enforcer for Roy Cohn and alleged killer of at least one of his own boyfriends. The Uncle Charlie's on 37th was involved in the Bronfman kidnapping. Posts that violate these rules but are interesting (a personal vlog from a Tuareg couple, a selfie taken with the Queen, etc.) are encouraged, but subject to removal at discretion.R7, Harry's Back East was at about 81st Street, making it an easy commute to Charlie's Uptown, at about 74th on Lexington.
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