A party never to be repeated
The Gay Elder rounds up the citizens of the Castro Republic for the Midnight Sun’s grand opening
Hi all! It’s me, the Gay Elder. Let me see, where did I leave off in the last article? I am just getting a bit absent-minded. Oh yes, now I remember. I must try and tie a few ends together. Just a little catch up, so to speak.
I have mentioned Einar, flying around in an ambulance. Well, Steve and I had an extra bedroom to share at 7 States Street.We had three bedrooms. Mine, Steve’s, and now Einar’s. He was a dear friend who had just moved to San Francisco from Minneapolis. No problem, we all got along really well. So Einar moved in and joined the 7 States Street family. His nickname was Aunt Einez. Nothing would ever be the same again.
The Sun kids had finally finished the renovations. So here comes the Grand Opening for The Midnight Sun Bar. There will be free beer, champagne and lots of fun, from 8 p.m. to closing. We had about 25 cases of champagne. Hopes were running pretty high for a great party. We had all worked so hard.
Not sure who came up with the bright idea to have dry ice fog floating around. So a huge case of dry ice was delivered to the bar around 6 p.m. for the Grand Opening party. Of course, there were no directions on how to get the stuff to make fog. OK, I admit it. ‘Twas my idea to have fog flowing all over the Sun. Never said I knew how to make it function. Not sure to this day how we got the fog going, but we did. It was coming down the walls, about three feet thick on the floors. Could not see a foot in front of you. Started to look like a B Hollywood horror movie. Abbot and Costello meet Frankenstein, Dracula and The Wolfman.
So Cabong! It’s 8 o’clock. The front door was opened to an absolute let down! Only about ten people were waiting to get in. Well of course, nobody comes early to a party. We had all thought that there would be a mad rush to get in. Nope. Not even with free booze. Then the finger pointing started. Who was responsible for handing out flyers for the Grand Opening party. Ah, it was one of the bartenders that quit during construction! No, it wasn’t. Well, then who was responsible?
Heads can roll later. David Ford and Jimmy were just apoplectic. Can’t blame them. I think they slinked off into the vault. Well, decisions had to be made. A: How do we save the Sun’s Grand Opening party? B: Who’s going to do it? Radical action had to be taken.
So Steve, Aunt Einez and myself set off on a bar hop tour to spread the joyous news. Free booze! We felt like the town criers. “Extra, extra, free booze at The Midnight Sun!”
I can only say that by the time the three town criers made it back to the Sun from our very patriotic bar hop, it was like being in a very crowded restaurant. All you past and present waitrons – “Hey make a hole, lady with a baby, coming through! Hey, we work here! Move it!” That’s where Aunt Einez really came in handy. He was, shall we say, a large size! A big Norwegian if ever there was one. Einez just bulldozed a path for us to get back into the bar. Well bless him. Our fall-back plan was to cover ourselves with lube and slither in. It was that crowded! Unfortunately, it did not “cum” to that. Well, maybe next time.
Once the three of us got inside the bar it was obvious that things were out of control. My future boyfriend, Charlie is behind the bar pulling his hair out. Fog everywhere, 200+ people crammed into the Sun. People chanting, “Where’s the champagne?”
David Ford grabs me and says, “Where the hell have you been? The bar is beyond packed. DAH!”
“Well while you were hiding in the vault, the Three Amigos went out and rounded up all of the guys for the party.”
So I handed David my bill for drinks and tips at six other bars. I mean really, we had to drink and tip our way through all the other bars in the Castro Republic just to spread the word. And the word was good. “FREE! Liquor!”
For real, you can’t just burst into another bar and announce, “Hey! Everybody, free liquor at the Sun” without a few repercussions. At that time, all the bartenders in the Castro knew each other. Our little club, so to speak. So bar by bar we went. You had to work it. Sit on a few laps at The Twin Peaks Bar. Slosh down an Irish Coffee. We were forced to have a couple of tequila shots at The Nothing Special. I mean really, what a sacrifice. Then Hello Toad Hall. More shots and a snort or two of that naughty white powder! Thank You Frank, he was tending bar that night. Now fully refreshed, The Three Amigos crawled back to the Sun.
Charlie was the only bartender still standing, just being showered with tips. Down came the sign that said “Tipping is not a city in China.” I started to crack open the champagne. Steve and Einar helped to not only pass it out, but consume it too. No glasses, just bottles being passed around. It was like a Village People Concert in the future. No AC, sweaty gorgeous men. The sound system was totally maxed out. I think that I opened about 150 bottles of champagne that night, who really knows? It was a great, over-the-top party. No holds barred so to speak. Totally raucous and full of mayhem.
All things considered, we were able to wind up the celebration and close around 2:30 a.m. … I think? We were one very pooped staff by then. Not even at half staff by then! So many guys had been invited to stay for the after bar party. It turned out to be the first of many Midnight Sun after hours bar parties!
There was this really sweet and quite cute Gay Cop, who worked the Castro beat. The guy was so popular in the neighborhood that rose petals were thrown at his feet. Hey, gotta love a man in uniform. He would come by and knock on the Sun’s door. “Hi, is everything alright there?”
David would be saying, “SHHHH!” We would turn the music down.
“Yes officer, we are just doing inventory for the night’s sales.” The aroma of poppers is wafting through the door.
“Ok, then, see you.” Off he would go on his rounds. Count to twenty, and up the music would go again. The city police department had assigned him to our little gay republic.
There had been some problems with straight kids making trouble in and around the Castro neighborhood. Yes, our Gay Republic did get harassed. Mostly college bullies who would drive up and down Castro Street screaming, “Faggots!” How original. As far as I remember, they never had the balls to get out of their cars. Just scream something and then hit the gas pedal and drive away, the little chicken shits that they were. Lucky for them that we never got our hands on them. There would have been some sorry ass little straight boys trying to explain how they got rearranged by Gay Boys on Castro Street.
It really was a long night. The last thing that I really remember was Charlie and myself laughing our asses off as we fell over all the empty champagne boxes. Crash Boom Bang, Tom and Charlie sprawled on the floor laughing. I think that we may have been slipped a quaalude or two! David and Jimmy were passed out somewhere, who can remember. The truth, Ruth, the party was a blast. Maybe never to be repeated? Well, maybe. I was pretty proud of my part in introducing the Midnight Sun to the neighborhood. A job well done! And thank the gods that I was not on the morning clean up crew! What a fucking mess! Day Crew, Night Crew, not yet J Crew.
That is about all for now. Later we will be visiting our first and last Orthodox Christmas, my 23rd birthday, and a weekend on the Russian River. Be well!
Barnard Street Tattler 