The girls from the agency
The Gay Elder and his friends don their best chiffon for a boozy, trippy night on the town
By Tom Newman
Hi all, it’s me The Gay Elder! I want to have a little fun with this story!
The Castro Boys Republic had been getting some bad vibes from The Big Hairy Leather Boys from Folsom Street. So we decided to strike back. Well, I decided to strike back. Now, mind you this was all in good fun.
The leather boys would come into our little republic and bad-mouth us: “What a bunch of cute butt boys. With your short haircuts, 501 Jeans, and little Teddy bears in your back pockets!”
I’m thinking, “Ok, is someone a bit jealous?” Can’t have that, or at least you can’t come into our neighborhood and diss us. They would come into the bars on Castro and ruffle some feathers!
As it turned out, Charlie and I finally got a Saturday night off together. So we put our little revenge plan in motion. I assembled the Imperial Guard. Steve, Einar, Tony and Woody (John Woodgate). We got together at 7 States Street. The day before I had gone to the Goodwill store and bought six chiffon nightgowns for the Castro Revolutionaries to wear. So here we are in our big ass construction boots, 501 Jeans and Midnight Sun T-Shirts and chiffon nightgowns. A bunch of cocktails and quaaludes later, we’re laughing our asses off. We headed out on our little journey. We actually made it down Castro Street without any injuries.
First stop was Toad Hall, we brought the house down. Some snorts later – thank you Frank! – we made it to The Midnight Sun. It was hysterical, the cheer went up, here comes payback! We called a cab and dropped acid. Yup, that would be all of us! The taxi driver was a bit perplexed. Where to go? Well that would be Folsom Street, the Eagle Bar in particular. Not sure how, but we all got out of the taxi and marched into the Eagle Bar. It was like a big hit on Broadway! Our Castro gang was so much fun, just a riot. I can’t remember how many laps that I sat on. Charlie and The Imperial Guard brought down the house with a good sense of humor. We let all the big butch boys know that this was The Castro payback, for what it was worth.
Surprise, The No Name Bar was next on our agenda. Just a nasty dirty S&M pee bar! It was about a block away from The Eagle Bar. Ok, yes we are all starting to peak on our Orange Wedge Tabs. There was a huge sign on the door, “Closed For A Private Party.” Right, we could all see the giant tub with someone getting peed on. So Tommy the Brave decided to knock on the door. Knock, Knock. We are all just about falling over, laughing so hard.
Creak, the door opened. This big hairy leather brute (the door man) says, “Ya, what do you want?” I mean really, there’s the six of us standing there peaking and in chiffon and boots. So, off the cuff I said, “We’re the girls from the agency.” He was like a deer in headlights. We all just fucking broke up. Some of us were already laughing so hard and rolling on the sidewalk. No, we were not invited inside! Thank the Gawds.
So off to The Stud Bar we went, danced and everyone had a good time. Another case of hysterical fun. Well, time to go. So we all got in a taxi and went back to The Midnight Sun Bar. By the time we all got there, the word had gone out about our little escapade to Folsom Street. We were greeted like conquering heroes!
How we all made it back to 7 States Street is still a mystery to me. I woke up next to Charlie, still in chiffon. Well, it was a nightgown!
That’s All Folks!
Next tale, Vacation on The Russian River!
Barnard Street Tattler 