There's something sad about the impending bulldozing of the 500 block of East Pine St. The final weekend of November before the entire block was fenced off, several friends and I made a special trip to visit one of our old haunts, the gay bar Manray. We had heard the owners announced last call at 10:30, but convinced the bouncer to let us in for one final visit.
After a round of Coronas, the group began reminiscing about Manray when it first opened in August 1999. In the midst of a summer romance that year, my new flame and I sat out in the open garden patio in the back mixing with other newcomers. That relationship would eventually take me all the way to South Africa where I met him and his travel partner to spend Christmas and the dawning of the new millennium. Looking back on it, he and I were not meant to last, but he gave me an adventure of a lifetime visiting a part of the world I'd only dreamed of seeing.
The other fellows shared their stories, too. One pointed to a corner where he had made out with a guy he met one night only to invite him to a party the following weekend where all his friends gave the potential boyfriend a major "thumbs down." Someone else recalled the john with the live video above the urinals that always provided a form of entertainment or conversation. Of course the garden area was shut down early in Manray's tenure due to complaints from neighbors about the noise, and the john flooded early this November leading us to think the place had prematurely closed.
For me, despite its reputation as a poser bar, Manray, with its white Jetsonian walls that changed colors like a mood ring, always provided a bright, welcoming atmosphere with good crowd flow, a characteristic the current darling of the scene, Purr, and other gay bars lack.
Many neighborhood hangouts, holding memories galore, will come tumbling down upon the slated demolition. Pony, a newcomer to the block and distinguished by the gratuitous '70s porn on the walls and punk/drag performances on the backroom stage, provided some of my fondest late night memories this fall. When lost in the pure joy of playing air hockey with friends, time and place disappeared. And while reading a recent issue of The Stranger, recollections of the bump and grind of naughty underwear parties at Tugs Belmont brought a smile to my face and reminded me of my "uncertain 20s," still trying to find my place in Seattle's gay life.
All this goes to say that Capitol Hill, once a purveyor of countless hangouts for gays and straights alike, is slowly losing its gathering places, the spaces where people from all walks can come together and create a scene that's not a corporate cut out.
While by no means a barfly, I've begun to realize as the city and neighborhood grows, we need these gathering spaces more than ever. They become the "living rooms" of our community. Despite the popularity of the internet for gay men to socialize and hook up, these real life spaces give us a chance to show up and be ourselves, not some figment of someone's imagination, a virtual apparition that is here and then gone.
This brings me to another social venue slated for major renovation and possible dislocation. Oddfellows Hall has made immeasurable contributions to the social fabric and artistic inspiration of our community. I fell in love with modern dance while studying with Wade Madsen at Velocity Dance Center 10 years ago. Last winter I took a class in the Alexander Technique with a phenomenal instructor at Freehold Theatre. And the Century Ballroom has brought countless gays and straights together to enjoy an evening of tripping the light fantastic on its gorgeous hardwood floors with sky high ceilings above. The creative energy and social glue Odd Fellows provides is a unique signature of the Capitol Hill community. Rather than stand idly by, the neighborhood and city should join forces to ensure the creative spirit and lifeblood that resides within Odd Fellows is preserved as a "living room" for future generations.
Jack Hilovsky's column appears in the second issue of each month. Reach him at editor@capitolhilltimes.com.
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