Page 503 - Gay San Francisco_Eyewitness Drummer
P. 503

Gay San Francisco: Eyewitness Drummer                483
             II. The feature essay as published in Drummer 19, December 1977


             Men’s Bar Scene
             Manhattan’s Divine Decadence. . .


                              The Mineshaft


             Hot spots get too hot not to cool down. So hit them while you can. Like
             The Mineshaft in New York, New York. Two floors and a roof of whatever
             flips your switch. In San Francisco, a friendly stranger asks your sign. In
             LA he asks what part of town you live in. New Yorkers just do a two-
             handed fine-tuning on your tits and lift an armpit, either yours or theirs,
             for openers. That’s the “Manhattan Hello.”

             UP A STEEP AND VERY NARROW STAIRWAY

             Cab it to The Mineshaft. It’s tucked in among the meat-packing houses
             at the Little West 12th Street. Head on up the stairs. At the entrance, a
             man checks your membership or issues you a card renewable every three
             months. For members the door charge is minimal and the stub is money
             at the bar.
                Best of all you can check any or all of your clothes. You aren’t going
             to need them anyway unless they are fetish items. For instance, a new
             group called The Jock Strap League tends the bar Monday nights. Those
             quiet dudes you see roaming around in their Bikes are actually in their
             club uniform. (You can join the JSL by calling (212) 580-9582, but don’t
             wash your jock first.)
                The jock fans are typical clientele. Tuesdays, for instance, during
             this first year of Mineshaft festivities, have been reserved for live bouts
             by the New York Wrestling Club. Wednesdays the FFA takes over both
             slings and the pool table: left ball in the side pocket. A can of Crisco sits
             behind the bar. Ask for some with an outstretched hand and you get an ice
             cream scoopful to lube up to your elbow. Thursday the A.E.A. (Ass Eaters
             Association.) takes over the downstairs, although they’re there every night
             everywhere. Other nights, uniforms are as varied as a surplus fantasy can
             get. Obviously, The Mineshaft has a Dress Code, basically macho and
             fetish, and strictly enforced.

             OTHER VOICES, OTHER ROOMS




           ©Jack Fritscher, Ph.D., All Rights Reserved—posted 05-05-2017
                HOW TO LEGALLY QUOTE FROM THIS BOOK
   498   499   500   501   502   503   504   505   506   507   508