Four iconic Gay bars in Los Angeles, which represent a combined history of 130 years, have closed permanently during the pandemic, and many more have warned that they are on the verge of closure.
Even as nightlife gradually returns, some of the remaining pubs in southern California have turned to crowdfunding in a last-ditch effort to stay afloat, warning that Covid-19 is the end of historic institutions facing the AIDS crisis. endured, can bring about economic downturn.
The pandemic has permanently closed more than 100,000 bars and restaurants in the United States, but in LA, which has been under some form of restriction since last March., the impact on nightclubs was particularly cruel.
Four LGBTQ + bars closed in West Hollywood last year, including Rage, a legendary nightclub that closed after 37 years, and Gold Coast, a 39-year-old street diving bar on Santa Monica Boulevard. When LA became one of the worst Covid hotspots in the country in January, Oil Can Harry’s, a beloved gay country bar in Studio City, said it was for a good close after half a century of offering. of queer line dance.
“It feels like a death,” says Rick Dominguez, a DJ who has hosted disco and country nights at Oil Can Harry for 27 years. ‘We lose a lot more than just our place to dance. It has been a home for us for decades. So many people have met and fallen in love with Oil Can. ”
Oil Can still had an on-site siren that staff used in the 60s to warn customers that the police would come and allow them to quickly switch to partners of the opposite sex, Dominguez said: ‘New generations are not going to get to know this space.’
Before Covid, gay bars had already disappeared in LA and other U.S. cities due to rising rents and gentrification, and as online queer dating and affiliate programs became popular. Research has shown that the places most at risk for closure are independently owned and include more underrepresented groups, including black and Latino communities, crowds of people who do not have gender and do not work.
Many of the struggling LA bars are located outside the West Hollywood scene, known for providing white gay men and more tourists, and owners turn to GoFundMe to get through the crisis.
“These places were our safe haven, so it’s really fucking awful to see how they’re the first to go,” Meatball, an LA drag queen, performed at Precinct, a downtown club that raises funds to to stay open. “I can not imagine a world without an environment. There are people you only see there, but they are your good friends. ‘
Precinct has long had an unpretentious atmosphere that makes it more comfortable than many gay bars, Meatball said: ‘It’s sloppy, it smells like old alcohol when you walk in, and there’s something so comforting about this dark, bad place – gay people like of which things. ”
New Jalisco, also downtown, is one of the longest-running Latino gay bars in the region, run by an immigrant couple who converted it into an LGBTQ + venue in the 1990s. After renting for a year, the bar also started raising funds.
“It feels like you’re at a family party,” said Eddy Francisco Alvarez Jr., a professor of Chicana and Chicano studies at Cal State Fullerton. Alvarez noted that pubs like New Jalisco are far more welcome for undocumented patrons and trans-Latinas than fortresses in West Hollywood. “You can appear in the multiplicity of who you are, as opposed to some other spaces that are very white or feel uninvited to working-class people … We lose pieces of strange Latinx history when these places close.”
Don Godoy, who ran a weekly night in Jalisco called Kafe Con Leche, said his dancers relied on online events and OnlyFans to supplement their income, but that they were eager to perform again after appear.
“We had clients who came every week for three years,” he said. “It was challenging, especially mentally, to stop it all of a sudden.”
“We are resilient”
Club owners said they initially felt ashamed to ask for donations, but that they no longer had options.
“We paid the Department of Water and Power to keep the lights on,” said Scott Craig, co-owner of Akbar in Silver Lake, which opened in 1996. ‘We have to pay our mortgage, our licenses and our property taxes … and what should it be for us if we do not know what we are going to do? ”
Some of the Akbar owners ‘younger friends and longtime patrons eventually convinced them to try crowdfunding before selling and closing their property, co-owner Peter Alexander said:’ It’s far more important than my own personal financial well-being – all these places are more than just gay bars. These are our homes, our living rooms, our spacious bedrooms. ”
The Akbar GoFundMe went viral in December, securing owners more than $ 230,000 in donations. The success of the campaign has encouraged other queer bars to seek help from supporters, although some believe their debt is still significantly greater than the donations they have raised.
Oliver Alpuche, owner of Redline, a gay pub in the city center, estimated that the pandemic left him with nearly $ 400,000 in debt, in part because he had to continue paying licenses and permits. He tried to do some food pop-ups, but any attempt to partially reopen them led to further losses. His landlord did not send eviction reports, but also did not allow any leniency, he said.
“It’s very difficult to help us in a community that is already vulnerable and suffering,” said Alpuche, whose GoFundMe is less than halfway there. ‘But I do not have investors or resources to support. How many loans can I personally take out to survive it? “The bar will probably continue to lose money if it returns with a reduced capacity,” he said: “But we are still fighting and we will reopen. ‘
For the artists and performance workers who relied on gay bars, their return may not be soon enough.
Ricardo Sebastian, who ran Putería, a popular Latin party at Precinct, said the dancers, DJs, photographers, decorators and other workers were already suffering behind the events. This moment, he added, reminded him of the AIDS crisis when gay clubs became a ghost town until they finally jumped back in the ’90s:’ It’s all set in order again … I know we’ll be back. We’re just resilient enough. But I think it’s going to take a while. ”
Tony Soto, a drag queen who performs at Akbar and Precinct, said some artists gave up during the pandemic and fled LA, but he was hopeful that the pubs that survived would draw large crowds if it were safe: ‘We are social animals, we need to be around each other … Once the vaccine is spread, I think people will spit in each other’s mouths, and honestly, I can not say I would not do it. ‘
He did weekly shows on Zoom, but was desperate to be in the same room as his audience again: “I haven’t really heard applause and laughter for over a year.”