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362                                     Jack Fritscher, Ph.D.

            II.  The feature article as published in Drummer 18, August 1977

            Allan Lowery’s New Bar on 11  at Folsom . . .

                           The Leatherneck:
                          The Ultimate Bar of the 70s
                           with Photos by Jim Stewart

            San Francisco’s Leatherneck Bar ain’t your ordinary meat-rack tavern.
            [Reference to Tim Buckley’s then hugely popular album, Welcome to L. A.,
            which is a “texture and context” CD to listen to while reading this feature
            article in order to experience an audio-erotic and emotional evocation of
            that time.] Sure the ’Neck’s a beer bar with wall-to-wall shitkickers, but
            upfront macho ain’t no pose. Come night time, the right time, dudes head
            for the Leatherneck like an accident about to happen. Hot, man. Not a
            Lacoste alligator in the joint. A High Place.
               About as high, in fact, as the elevated platform at the USMC Recruit
            Depot seems to 80 sock-footed jarheads sweating at attention, looking up
            as some 6-4, 245-pound DI’s bootlace level.

            GET THE PICTURE?

            Hardass cruising. Like two-fisted combat at the USMC Depot where
            some little shaved-head boot is gonna be ordered for the first time in his
            life to take on another man with his bare hands. Palms and ’pits running
            sweat, man. Breathing hard. Crotch soaking his USMC jock.
               Ain’t that an OK fantasy walk into the Leatherneck!
               Your eyes trip on the black leather. Your ears trip on the country-
            western wail. And your feet trip on the cleated boots standing toe to toe,
            crotch to crotch. Having a heatwave, man.
               The Leatherneck’s a “ball” room rotten to the Corps. Leather nights
            at 11  and Folsom are like the contact classes the USMC calls “Physical
            Instruction with Vigor.” Outside, the big bikes and heavy pickup trucks
            are parked. Waiting. Inside, any little disciplinary problems with a dude
            and you can bet his buddies strap him down to the fastest bondage rack in
            town. Brig rats are a house specialty, stretched out in full leather, secured
            up on a cross six feet above the bar. That’s how the Leatherneck does a
            social “security” number.

          ©Jack Fritscher, Ph.D., All Rights Reserved—posted 05-05-2017
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