Where'd It Go? Does It Matter?

[Guest jizzdepapi]

I remember in the mid 1970s, in my closeted early and mid 20s, traveling to NYC to sneak into anonymous gay theatres. I had never been with a man at this point and to me these excursions were a real adventure. I felt like an outlaw though all I did was watch smutty movies.

 

Trekking from Grand Central to the Times Square area before the 1980s (and ongoing) rash of commercial development which has overtaken the West Side, there was a billboard of a beautiful blond man, who became something of an icon for my adventures. The billboard was there for years and years and I think might have represented hope to me that someday, in a way I didn't yet understand, I too could publicly proclaim that I too was attracted to men and found it unsurprising that a handsome male could be portrayed in a way which was more typical of the feamlae figure. I think from a distance I might have regarded the billboard quizically, as if asking the model, "Are you really as beautiful and real as you appear?" and "How on earth do I travel the distance between your life and apparent self-regard and my life, which was mostly revealling itself through self-loathing.

 

Does anyone remember the billboard to which I refer? Think it might have been for the Adonis or David theatres (since closed, of course) though, truth be told, I can't remember any detail about theatres I attended; these were truly traumatizing events and I guess I've managed to successfully block them from my mind (as it were).

 

Would love to hear if others remember this billboard or physical structures which were significant to them. Any other icons?

 

Thanks,

Jizz

 

P.S.: From years laters, I also remember a surprising brass plaque on the St. Mark's Baths, which proclaimed the building the birthplace of James Fenimore Cooper, author, of course, of "Last of the Mohicans." That always gave me a chuckle.

[buzz]

Hey Jizz. Wonderful post. I don't remember the beautiful man on the billboard, but Times Square and 42nd Street were hang-outs for me when I was in high school and college. This was in the late 1950s and early 60s before coming out. My favorite place was a dirty magazine shop on 42nd near the bus terminal. I would spend hours there looking at the physique mags and the beautiful bodies therein, and trying to guess how much there was under the tiny "posing straps" that were mandatory then. At least the butts could be shown naked. One time I found a magazine which had a photo spread featuring one of my classmates...a guy I had been secretly admiring for months. I had been pretty sure he was gay and I wanted him, but typical closeted me, I did nothing about it.

 

But the year after Stonewall was terrific. all these back-room bars and after-hours clubs began opening. St. marks and the Everard were thriving. And I was OUT! Of course in those days, being "out" usually meant admitting to yourself that you were gay.....not really to anybody else.

 

Sorry to have rambled but your post triggered a lot of memories.

 

buzz

[Will]

I remember that billboard. I think it was over the DAVID, because (I think) I remember noting the irony of a gay movie house named for a famous Renaissance statue, which in turn is supposed to represent a biblical hero. I thought the beautiful young man on the billboard was just fine as a twentieth-century David. I was living in New York then, and although I was in my twenties I was just as closeted as Jizz. So closeted that I didn't even have the courage to go to the David or the Apollo. I just walked by, tried to sneak a peak at the ads without being noticed (ha!) and kept going. The closest I ever got to a real porn movie was Andy Warhol's MY HUSTLER, which I saw some place near Times Square in 1968. It gave me what I feared would turn out to be a terminal case of masturbationitis.

 

I lived on the Upper East Side, and on Saturday nights I would walk over to Third Avenue and then make my way slowly down into the 50s, as far as 49th Street. On the way down, I stayed on the west side of Third Avenue so that I could check out the hustlers from the safety of the street's width. Then, on the way back, I'd walk on the east side so that I could get close to them. But of course I avoided all eye contact.

 

It makes me almost nauseated with sadness to remember how indescribably isolated, frightened, and lonely -- but also horny -- I felt. On the other hand, I suppose, it saved my life. I lived in New York when everybody was madly spreading a quiet little virus all over town, and if I hadn't been so repressed, I'm sure I wouldn't be alive now to write this post.

[+ deej]

I wasn't in NYC during those days. The only Times Square billboard I remember was Marky Mark. :-)

 

But I did live in NNJ during the beginning of the Disney-fying of Times Square. I'd routinely take a bus in from my home in Jersey and walk to a client's office up on 8th ave. Of course, at the end of the day I'd stop in one of the several strip clubs along 8th Ave. (R.I.P.) and more often than I like to admit I'd hire one of the dancers.

 

I'll never forget the sinking feeling in my stomach the day the Show Palace was closed. I stood there staring at the sign on the door dumbstruck. Fortunately one of my favorite dancers was standing nearby and was willing to console me. :9

 

I can't begin to imagine the excitement of New York 20 years ago, but I know it's also nothing like it was just six or seven years ago.

[+ bigjoey]

after the show palace was torn down and i would be going up 8th avenue, i would always smile when i would see the mirrors still in place high up the wall on the building to the north. often i would be with straight business associates and they would have no idea why i would suddenly crack a slight smile.