The University of Chicago Press, Chicago 60637
The University of Chicago Press, Ltd., London
2017 by The University of Chicago
All rights reserved. Published 2017.
Printed in the United States of America
26 25 24 23 22 21 20 19 18 17 1 2 3 4 5
ISBN -13: 978-0-226-41325-9 (cloth)
ISBN -13: 978-0-226-41339-6 (paper)
ISBN -13: 978-0-226-41342-6 (e-book)
DOI : 10.7208/chicago/9780226413426.001.0001
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Orne, Jason, author. | Stuckey, Dylan, photographer.
Title: Boystown : sex and community in Chicago / Jason Orne ; photographs by Dylan Stuckey.
Description: Chicago ; London : The University of Chicago Press, 2017. |Includes bibliographical references and index.
Identifiers: LCCN 2016028700 | ISBN 9780226413259 (cloth : alk. paper) | ISBN 9780226413396 (pbk. : alk. paper) | ISBN 9780226413426 (e-book)
Subjects: LCSH: Gay communityIllinoisChicago. | Gay cultureIllinoisChicago. | Gay menIllinoisChicagoSocial life and customs. | Gay barsSocial aspectsIllinoisChicago. | SexSocial aspects. | Gay culture. | Lakeview (Chicago, Ill.)
Classification: LCC HQ 76.3. U 52 L 4466 2017 | DDC 306.76/60977311dc23 LC recordavailable at https://lccn.loc.gov/2016028700
This paper meets the requirements of ANSI / NISO Z 39.481992 (Permanence of Paper).
FROM LETTER TO WALT WHITMAN
BY MARK DOTY
... this intimacy, I have some questions
for you. Did you mean it?
Democratic America joined by
delight in the beauty of boys.
especially working-class ones? I joke.
I know you meant adhesiveness,
that bond of flesh to equal flesh,
might be the bedrock of an order.
a compact founded on skins durable,
knowable flame. Ive felt what I think
you meant. I dont mean to romance this, Walt,
but much of what Ive known of fellowship
Ive apprehended in the basest church,
where were seldom dressed, and the affable
equality among worshipers is
sometimes like your democratic vista,
men held in common by our common skin....
Nightfall
The crush of people standing in the hallway just within view of the stage delineated the boundary between the front and back bars at Cocktail on Saturday nights. At five foot six, Im a smaller man. I can squeeze through crowds more easily, so I stood in front pushing sideways, pulling Austin along with me by the hand. The three-foot-long tables lined up perpendicular to the western wall took up valuable real estate for spectators at this hour, leaving us on the edge of the ring of empty space surrounding the strippers stage.
Oh, its Peoria, Austin, my then-boyfriend, now-husband, nudged me to look over to our left, where three middle-aged, straight, white women stood, talking excitedly to their white, gay, male coworker who had brought them down from the suburbs for a fun night out on the townIm an eavesdropper.
Ooh, thats mean, I said. Im calling you out on that. I pulled out my phone to take a few notes on the scene.
To our right, a middle-aged Latino man in a long, yellow polo shirt, stylish black-framed glasses, and the gelled Caesar haircut I had in eighth grade laughed with his older friend, a gaunt white man. With debaucherous glee, the older manhis faces tight, distorted skin a badge of survival from a time before HIV was more easily hiddenpushed him toward the stage where BELIEVE was dancing.
I first met BELIEVE with Frank, a white queer man I had been following for fieldwork months earlier, in April. BELIEVE is Franks favorite go-go boy. White. Tall. Muscular. Straight. The word believe in black block letters is tattooed across his chest. As Frank and I leaned against the front bar, BELIEVE hung on Frank as he asked us for money.
I do this to support my kids, he smiled confidently. Succumbing to the allure of the straight boygay for payFrank tucked a few dollars down the front of his underwear and received a manly squeeze on the arm with a smile in return.
The December night that Austin and I saw him, BELIEVE supported his kids a few different ways. He squatted on stage, his crotch at eye level as he leaned forward to whisper in the ear of the man in the yellow polo. Three dollar bills in one hand, a vodka soda in the other, the Latino man brushed the bills down BELIEVE s chest, across his abs, and into the front pouch of his underwear, pulled down to the base of his cock, straining legality. His fingers lingered long enough to feel BELIEVE s buzzed pubic hair. The Latino mans giggle turned into raucous disbelieving laughter as he spun around and headed back to his also-laughing friend.
Another go-go boy, this one unsurprisingly also tall, white, and muscularbut gay from the way he twerked his ass as he leaned forward against the back walltook over the stage for BELIEVE to start to work the crowd.
BELIEVE headed straight for an even more lucrative audience than drunk, older gay men: a young white woman in leopard-skin pants. His demeanor changed completely when he started talking with these women. With the man in the yellow polo, he was cocky, brash. With women, he caressed first. His lips grazed her ear as he whispered softly.
Her taller friend in a white dress and heels egged her on. With this encouragementpermission? BELIEVE started stroking her thighs as they gyrated. I could see him rubbing his dick against her from behind. It bulged slightly from within his too-tight briefs. They were laughing, obviously having a great time.
With a howl, another group of white women came through the front door. One wore a pink boa, seemingly ignoring the small sign outside against the brick wall: No Bachelorette Parties.
Straight people come for the glamour, forgetting sometimes that real people are behind the enchantment as they look to have their own night out on the town. Austin and I took the arrival of this group as our cue to leave what had quickly become a straight strip club. We pressed again through the crowd to reach the front, bursting out into the cold night air onto the corner of Halsted and Roscoe.
Where do you want to go? I asked Austin. Roscoes? I gestured across the street.
With a line of people standing outside, Roscoes looked more packed than Cocktail. A bachelorette party emerged through the front door: four white women in heels, dresses too thin for winter, and party tiaras. The lead womans tiara read BRIDE .
Jesus. Can we go someplace gay, Jason? Im not paying a cover for this. Austin said.
***
Figure 1.1. Hydrate Nightclub, by day and night
In There Goes the Gayborhood, Amin Ghaziani argues that gay people can live anywhere now, no longer forced inside the gay ghetto.
The years Ive been studying Boystown, Chicagos gayborhood, have given me a different perspective: gayborhoods dont celebrate differences; they create them. Through fostering a space outside the mainstream, gay places allow people to develop an alternative culture, a queer culture that celebrates sex. In gay clubs around America, one learns different values, a way to judge people by different rules. When night falls, we learn new lessons.