LGBTQ Breaking News Service

NEW YORK – For many, a place colloquially known as a “gay bar” was the only place you could go where you weren’t compelled to lie about who you were.

“The gay community had nowhere else to meet publicly,” said Ken Lustbader, the co-founder of NYC LGBT Historic Sites Project.

“This was their place, their safe place to be themselves,” said Helen Buford, the owner of Julius’ Bar, “[a place] where they weren’t accepted anywhere else.

“[It’s] a place where they know if they hit on someone, they’re not going to get beaten up or murdered,” said Lisa Cannistraci, the owner of Henrietta Hudson.

“People could lose their jobs, their families, employment, religious associations,” Lustbader added. “So bars became really safe spaces.”

But the gay bar of the past was much different than the one we think of today where every inch is covered in rainbow flags.

“In many cases, they were private clubs with bouncers at the door,” Lustbader said. “They were bottle clubs, you had a sign, a fictitious name in many cases to get in.”

You’d have to either be in possession of an underground guidebook listing places considered “safe” or rely on word of mouth.

That was all because of state law.

“After prohibition, the State Liquor Authority is formed, which has a regulation that basically says if you serve people who are disorderly you can lose your license,” Lustbader said. “Disorderly people were considered homosexuals.”

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But you could easily argue that a certain black-and-white photograph — showing a group of men being denied a drink — laid the groundwork for the gay bars of today. And Randy Wicker, on the far end of the bar in that photo, was one of those men.

“We were saying, ‘We are homosexuals and we want to order a cocktail,'” Wicker said.

That’s when the bartender held out his hand.

“Saying, ‘No, oh no, not here. ‘Cause we already have trouble with that,'” Wicker said.

See, those well-dressed patrons — some of the earliest gay rights protestors — knew that Julius’ Bar in Greenwich Village was already being closely watched by state authorities due to prior infractions. So those protestors thought something might go down. And that was the purpose that night.

“We wanted to have a place refuse to serve us for being homosexual,” Wicker said.

So they brought a photographer and newspaper reporter with them to document it. The incident has become known as the “sip in.”

“That would be the first case against homosexuals actually proactively documented,” Lustbader said.

And it all happened in 1966 — three years prior to the Stonewall riots, widely seen as the birthplace of the modern gay rights movement.

But this piece of history, Julius’ Bar, was almost gone for good thanks to COVID. 

“I had such a deflated feeling,” Buford said. “I was pretty down, I have to say. When we first closed, it was awful.”

But thanks to federal loans, community support, and donations from the LGBT-focused nonprofit Gill Foundation, the city’s oldest gay bar is here to stay.

But others — like Tom Johnson, the former owner of Therapy Lounge — weren’t as lucky.

“We sell drinks to people to pay for ourselves, to pay for our shows, to pay for everything,” Johnson said from his new home in Chicago. “If we’re not selling drinks, what are you going to do?”

In 2003, Therapy Lounge became one of the first gay bars to open up in Hell’s Kitchen, paving the way for a slew of others and changing the face of the neighborhood into one that, these days, has lot more rainbow flags that it used to.

But Therapy’s business model was no match for the past year’s COVID restrictions.

“We couldn’t open up for delivery to-go out of Therapy with burgers and nachos, and a 20-foot space in front,” Johnson said. “It just wouldn’t cut it when you have 5,000 square feet and the only time you really made money was on Thursday, Friday, or Saturday night when the place was at capacity for hours.”

But even though Johnson won’t be part of it, he said he is confident New York’s gay nightlife will come back.

Someone who will be a part of that comeback is Alexi Minko, even though for a period it was touch-and-go for his bar, Alibi Lounge.

“Like the kids say, ‘The struggle is real,'” Minko said with a laugh.

He has kept a remarkably upbeat attitude, considering the financial setback. See, like most gay bars, Alibi — one of the only gay- and Black-owned businesses in Harlem — was not accustomed to making money with curbside takeout.

“Because Alibi is not, was not, a restaurant. We were more a club-type of lounge establishment,” Minko said. “Between the months of April to June, it was absolutely impossible, it was a nightmare.”

He had to lay off five of his eight employees. But he said that thanks to donations and the generosity of his landlord, Alibi Lounge will stay open. And this Pride Month marks Alibi’s fifth anniversary.

Also still around — and celebrating its 30th anniversary — is the West Village‘s Henrietta Hudson, one of the city’s only remaining lesbian bars. But COVID has without a doubt left its mark here, too.

“COVID changed people,” Cannistraci, the owner, said. “It changed me.

And she said she knew the pandemic would also change customers’ attitudes toward a crowded space.

“I knew then packed dance floors would be the last thing to open,” she said. 

That is why after more than a year to finalize plans and undergo construction, Henrietta recently opened up with a renewed focus.

“I wouldn’t say COVID changed it — I’d say COVID activated it,” Cannistraci said.

The bar puts less emphasis on the dancefloor and more on a quieter, culinary experience.

“With all the isolation, I think people want to sit and actually look each other in the eye and talk to them,” Cannistraci said from her brand-new colorful outdoor dining structure. 

That right there is one of the reasons she believes that even in 2021 — with all the progress we’ve made — there is still a need for a gay bar. A need to meet other people who share the same shoes in a safe space.

“They sit down at the bar and you can see their shoulders just go down, and there’s this exhale,” Cannistraci said. “You know, they’re home.”

Johnson, the former owner of Therapy Lounge, called it “strength in numbers.”

“If you’re the only gay guy in a straight bar and they come at you with a pool stick and start beating you up,” he said, “it’s different when you’re all together and you have a more secure safe space, where like-minded people will protect you.”

Julius’ Buford said bars catering to the LGBTQ community can’t disappear. 

“People can’t go back in the closet,” she said. “They have to be free to be who they are and to love who they want to love.”

BARS MENTIONED

Julius’ | 159 W. 10 St., New York, N.Y. 10014 | 877-746-0528 | juliusbarny.com

Henrietta Hudson | 438 Hudson St., New York, N.Y. 10014 | 212-924-3347 | henriettahudson.com

Alibi Lounge | 2376 Adam Clayton Powell Jr. Blvd., New York, N.Y. 10030 | 917-472-7789 | alibiharlem.com

Since a second location of Skipper’s Brew Coffee House first opened downtown in February, co-owners and married couple Shari Rubino and Karen Pike say everything has gone better than expected. 

Now, Skipper’s Brew is hosting a “Big Gay Grand Opening” today, June 15, from 5 p.m. to 8 p.m. The event will include a DJ, a drag show, an Australian sausage sizzle and tacos from Hoagies Sandwiches & Grill. 

The grand opening is just one way Rubino and Pike are raising awareness that Skipper’s Brew is a female and LGBTQ+ owned safe space. 

“We just wanted to make sure that everyone knew that everyone is welcome,” Rubino said.

Recently, Skipper’s Brew partnered with the Gala Pride and Diversity Center to support the LGBTQ+ community — taking part in events such as a pride caravan that took place through downtown and ended at Skipper’s Brew with about 300 people.

“It was amazing; it was a night that everyone needed,” Rubino said.

Skipper’s Brew barista and Cuesta College student Eleanor Hudson said that she appreciates that Pike and Rubino use the ownership of their business to promote social change.

“It’s a risk, because you are making a political statement by doing it,” Hudson said. “But I’m really proud to be able to come into a job and be able to say…everyone’s equal and you can come here to a safe space.”

Compared to other coffee shops she has worked at, Hudson said the owners at Skipper’s Brew try to make it feel like a family.

“Parents have [their] queer children come in…because this is like a safe space for them,” Hudson said. “Here, I feel like it’s very much like a passion project and everyone is in on it.”

Pike and Rubino originally bought out an existing coffee shop in Morro Bay and reinvented the menu and interior. When they noticed many Cal Poly students drove to Morro Bay to drink their coffee, they felt a location in Downtown San Luis Obispo was necessary.

“Probably from the first weekend we opened the doors, it just hit the ground running,” Rubino said. “It’s been amazing.”

While not receiving federal assistance after the pandemic hit, Rubino and Pike took second jobs to help stay afloat. 

“The decision to open a second location wasn’t one we took lightly as we knew we were in the middle of a pandemic,” Rubino said. “We had such positive momentum with our Morro Bay location, we felt we would be successful in a second location.”

Although their San Luis Obispo location is smaller than their Morro Bay property, Rubino said that the foot traffic is the same.

During the week, Pike said the shop is full of business people, but they get a lot of students studying on the weekends.

“I honestly think it’s been a good mix of both — it’s almost split,” Pike said.

Skipper’s Brew is located at 1242 Monterey St. and is open seven days a week from 7 a.m. to 6 p.m.

Employers can’t bar workers from bathrooms or locker rooms that correspond to their gender identity, according to EEOC guidance published on the anniversary of a landmark U.S. Supreme Court decision that expanded protections for LGBT employees.

The U.S. Equal Employment Opportunity Commission released two online resources for employers and workers Tuesday, touching on the controversial topic of sex-based bathroom policies by citing the agency’s past opinions expressed in administrative cases brought by federal employees.

“In other words, if an employer has separate bathrooms, locker rooms, or showers for men and women, all men (including transgender men) should be allowed to …

LeeMichael McLean and Bryan Furze endured years of anonymous anti-gay harassment at their home in Milton, Massachusetts, but a remarkable turn of events has freed them from the abuse.

Handwriting analysis led them to the perpetrator who confessed to police that he was responsible. It was their friendly neighbor who always waved and made casual conversation.

Related: How many versions of the Pride flag are there now? You might be surprised.

The men are upstanding members of their community, proud parents, and served in local government. But that’s when things turned ugly, they say.

They started receiving dozens of magazine subscriptions with homophobic names on them. The men were confounded and police were unable to help since most magazines don’t require pre-payment. The perpetrator didn’t use a credit card that could be traced.

For five years the couple got magazines, newspapers, and solicitations under the offensive fake names. It stopped during the pandemic, but when the neighbor tried to resume the harassment, he made a major mistake.

He signed the couple up for a subscription to the Boston Globe, but the men already had a subscription. The paper sent them back the order request, made under the name “Michelle Fruitzey,” a play on the couple’s real names. The subscription request was handwritten.

“Thanks for taking a look, neighbors,” McLean said when he posted the story of what was happening along with a photo of the subscription card on a local neighborhood website. He quipped that the “joke is on them. What gay guy doesn’t want free issues of Vogue and Cosmopolitan?”

Their neighbors were stunned and quickly sprang into action. #iammichellefruitzey started trending as locals started hunting down who was responsible.

One resident submitted a Freedom of Information request for town election records and methodically went through them to try to match the handwriting. And they got a hit.

When detectives questioned the man, he confessed. He lived two doors away from them and had served with the couple as Town Meeting members.

“There was never any outward hostility,” Furze said.

“He told the officer that he was motivated by our outspokenness and our opinions about Milton’s politics and Milton’s future. I have some doubts about that.”

Still, the men have taken a negative and turned it into a positive. They’ve started selling T-shirts with the hashtag emblazoned on it for $30 each to help endow a scholarship for queer students. So far they’ve raised over $12,000.

“For us, this is not really about broadcasting the bad. It’s about embracing the good and finding ways to blow it up into something bigger,” Furze said.

“We can own this slur, this name, and feel better about it,” McLean added.