Tewder
Senior Member
Wasn't it called the Imperial Room at the Royal York? Never did see a concert there, before my time, but know many who did.
Toronto in the 70s was a wonderful place. I had moved from the UK and was lucky to get a job with the City of Toronto Health Dept. I was 18 years old. I wasn't sure about my sexuality at first, but I soon realized I was gay. I went to most of the bars and the scene was amazing. The Quest and St. Charles on Yonge St were popular hang outs. The other Health Inspector were very supportive to me and I had a great group of friends. The Mount Pleasant Lunch owned by Sheila was very popular and we had many parties and outings with her.I never experienced any homophobia and Toronto will always be my favourite, if only my partner could have got landed immigrant status we would still be there, yes we are still together 34 years later. Thank you Toronto for lovely memories and lovely people. Wish I'd kept in touch with the friends I had.
I'm just talking with a friend here.
He remembers that the bar on Hayden was called "Rawhide", and that originally it may have had a Golden Griddle in the basement. The bar kept the carpet when they moved in, which gave the place the undertone of sausages and pancakes - and grease. It didn't last long.
"Stages" was up above the Parkside - where Sobey's is now. It might have been one of Toronto's late-night bars for dancing that stayed open until 6a.m. Monday mornings. This was in the days when serving alcohol stopped 11pm. On Sundays, it was even earlier - or was it that there was a window between 7pm and 11pm? Anyway, it was pretty limited.
"Soltero's" was a ill-omened place with a dubious reputation. It was subject of hushed whispers and sideways glances. No young queen that I was with would go near it, and on one knew anyone who had ever gone in. It was just down the laneway from Chaps between Isabella and Gloucester. You had enter off the laneway through the back. Apparently at one point there was a murder there - a gun, and they never caught the guy.
There was also the Chez Moi - my first gay bar in Toronto and a bit of a hallucination. It was rather dykey - I remember being cowed by a large, handsome woman who was doing security watch. This was also the time of "The Rose" on Parliament - not the friendliest place to go if you were a guy. You'd only get in with a lesbian pal, and even then were subject to unpleasant glances.
"Lipstick" on Parliament was across from "The Rose" and just up the street towards Wellesley. It closed then re-opened as 'The Women's Common'. (I think). Lipstick was fun because it was a dessert and coffee place after you got out from the bars.
Myself, Komrads was my big coming out bar, with Chaps right next door. Komrads had a fantastic stainless steel sprung dance floor which let you twirl faster than anywhere else. There was a little cafe downstairs where we used to get grub when stumbling out after attempting to Vogue, and watch the crowds go by. Chaps was fun. They made brief foray into being a country and western bar for awhile.
The old Barn was a riot. My first trip there was when it was still a leather bar. I went in and out in about five minutes...in, oh, 1989. The whole place was creaky, smoky, dirty, dark, tumbledown and completely unpretentious. Everything about it was kind of wrong - from the ill-positioned black light that showed off your dandruff, to the wretched kitchen that served terrible food behind the coat check. It had a funny little sex shop that opened right into the stairway that took you to the main (middle) floor. Great if you needed to grab a cockring or a dildo on your way in or out. Rumour was that they made their own real poppers in the basement. If that was true, it's a miracle the place didn't explode. The place was a terrible firetrap. Apparently, one drag queen that got fired returned in a huff, and was lighting strips of newspaper in one of the open fireplaces that unbelievably still existed - and was dropping the flaming bits of paper into a hole in the wall in an attempt to level the joint.
Every Pride the entire floor would bounce. I was always convinced the place was about to collapse in a cloud of wigs, roaches, dust, screams and popper bottles.
It had a ground-floor bar, too. Le Cavalier's also known as Lay Cadavers. That where the grampires hung out to drink because they couldn't move their legs to get up the narrow staircases. With it's underpopulated back-of-the-bar dance floor, it was one of the last holdouts of fan dancing seen in Toronto.
Everyone smoked, and ventilation was an exotic rumour. The air was blue. The bars had air quality that would shame the ugliest foundries in the country.
Trax was haunted. Literally and figuratively. A former children's funeral parlour, if you can believe it. It never shook the reputation, or the air. It did have two split-level decks out back that had a good Sunday tea dance, but no one willingly hung out in the front section, with it's chapel-like coffered ceiling and it's large gothic windows.
There was also "Showbiz" in the now-burnt down Empress Hotel, and "Cornelius" at Dundonald and Yonge - right above a straight rock and roll bar.
There was a bar at Jarvis and King owned by George Pratt..."The Albany".
There was also 18 East, later, The Toolbox out on Eastern Ave. Quite a ways to go, and a really intense leather bar. Right next door to the local chapter of the Hell's Angels.
"Hotel California" was just south of Gerrard and Jarvis, in the old brick building (just recently stuccoed) just a few doors down. It was in the basement, and had a really low ceiling that you would hit your head on if you were over 6'4". It was usually packed - and this is when that corner was a wasteland. One of the hotels on Jarvis briefly had a gay bar in it too, called "The Carriage House" that was closing when my friend got here.
I'm just talking with a friend here.
He remembers that the bar on Hayden was called "Rawhide", and that originally it may have had a Golden Griddle in the basement. The bar kept the carpet when they moved in, which gave the place the undertone of sausages and pancakes - and grease. It didn't last long.
"Stages" was up above the Parkside - where Sobey's is now. It might have been one of Toronto's late-night bars for dancing that stayed open until 6a.m. Monday mornings. This was in the days when serving alcohol stopped 11pm. On Sundays, it was even earlier - or was it that there was a window between 7pm and 11pm? Anyway, it was pretty limited.
"Soltero's" was a ill-omened place with a dubious reputation. It was subject of hushed whispers and sideways glances. No young queen that I was with would go near it, and on one knew anyone who had ever gone in. It was just down the laneway from Chaps between Isabella and Gloucester. You had enter off the laneway through the back. Apparently at one point there was a murder there - a gun, and they never caught the guy.
There was also the Chez Moi - my first gay bar in Toronto and a bit of a hallucination. It was rather dykey - I remember being cowed by a large, handsome woman who was doing security watch. This was also the time of "The Rose" on Parliament - not the friendliest place to go if you were a guy. You'd only get in with a lesbian pal, and even then were subject to unpleasant glances.
"Lipstick" on Parliament was across from "The Rose" and just up the street towards Wellesley. It closed then re-opened as 'The Women's Common'. (I think). Lipstick was fun because it was a dessert and coffee place after you got out from the bars.
Myself, Komrads was my big coming out bar, with Chaps right next door. Komrads had a fantastic stainless steel sprung dance floor which let you twirl faster than anywhere else. There was a little cafe downstairs where we used to get grub when stumbling out after attempting to Vogue, and watch the crowds go by. Chaps was fun. They made brief foray into being a country and western bar for awhile.
The old Barn was a riot. My first trip there was when it was still a leather bar. I went in and out in about five minutes...in, oh, 1989. The whole place was creaky, smoky, dirty, dark, tumbledown and completely unpretentious. Everything about it was kind of wrong - from the ill-positioned black light that showed off your dandruff, to the wretched kitchen that served terrible food behind the coat check. It had a funny little sex shop that opened right into the stairway that took you to the main (middle) floor. Great if you needed to grab a cockring or a dildo on your way in or out. Rumour was that they made their own real poppers in the basement. If that was true, it's a miracle the place didn't explode. The place was a terrible firetrap. Apparently, one drag queen that got fired returned in a huff, and was lighting strips of newspaper in one of the open fireplaces that unbelievably still existed - and was dropping the flaming bits of paper into a hole in the wall in an attempt to level the joint.
Every Pride the entire floor would bounce. I was always convinced the place was about to collapse in a cloud of wigs, roaches, dust, screams and popper bottles.
It had a ground-floor bar, too. Le Cavalier's also known as Lay Cadavers. That where the grampires hung out to drink because they couldn't move their legs to get up the narrow staircases. With it's underpopulated back-of-the-bar dance floor, it was one of the last holdouts of fan dancing seen in Toronto.
Everyone smoked, and ventilation was an exotic rumour. The air was blue. The bars had air quality that would shame the ugliest foundries in the country.
Trax was haunted. Literally and figuratively. A former children's funeral parlour, if you can believe it. It never shook the reputation, or the air. It did have two split-level decks out back that had a good Sunday tea dance, but no one willingly hung out in the front section, with it's chapel-like coffered ceiling and it's large gothic windows.
There was also "Showbiz" in the now-burnt down Empress Hotel, and "Cornelius" at Dundonald and Yonge - right above a straight rock and roll bar.
There was a bar at Jarvis and King owned by George Pratt..."The Albany".
There was also 18 East, later, The Toolbox out on Eastern Ave. Quite a ways to go, and a really intense leather bar. Right next door to the local chapter of the Hell's Angels.
"Hotel California" was just south of Gerrard and Jarvis, in the old brick building (just recently stuccoed) just a few doors down. It was in the basement, and had a really low ceiling that you would hit your head on if you were over 6'4". It was usually packed - and this is when that corner was a wasteland. One of the hotels on Jarvis briefly had a gay bar in it too, called "The Carriage House" that was closing when my friend got here.
Wasn't it called the Imperial Room at the Royal York? Never did see a concert there, before my time, but know many who did.
Crispins Restaurant with Buddies?? downstairs.
Wow - great posts guys.
It was a different atmosphere - a different world in all sorts of ways - between then and now.
The sense of the Church Street village as being a safe zone has become normalized and diffused. The sense of the bars being the safehouses has changed, along with the feeling of the weekends being uncommonly sacred, because that's when you could leave the 'straight' world. In an era where hockey mobs still walked up Church Street, ducking into the door of a bar was like entering another world. The weekends had marked stages to them, since every moment counted, and all the action would be happening at the bars - which were a bit like defacto community centres, and circus all at once. The drag queens would preside as paradoxical public community leaders - an important function that's been watered way down since legal equality and the internet began spreading things out and away from the village.
Phone trees - I dimly remember them. My friend used them a lot.
I remember house parties were a much bigger deal at the time. It was a way of finding your way (or being taken into) a group of friends. It was also a way of sizing people up, and meeting up in a fun, personable way outside of the din of the bars. The bars and scene had a different emphasis on being social then. Going home with someone might lead to a house party or tea dance (after brunch, gossip and looking around to see who's with who) the next day at where you could meet their friends.
You had to go meet and talk to people to hook up with them, by and large. That took time, and had a different pace to it - unless you just wanted to hang out in the shrubs somewhere! People noticed each other. The word got around the bars pretty quickly, too, if someone was a bad apple.
I was glad to see Voula from Brother's mentioned in a different post. Brother's was one of those bruch places where everyone went for a hangover breakfast and to see who was with who, and nod and say hi. I don't think the interior had ever been renovated since it opened.
I can't speak for the kids now, but I think the intensity was different. A lot of fear, from HIV, inequality and prejudice - and bonding together. A lot of pride, fury, and hard-won happiness. The intense pleasures of a participating in a real 'secret world' - though that had a lot of pitfalls, too. There was a better connection between the lesbians and the gay folk. Rough Trade on the radio, and Divine in the bars. It was pretty wild.
The straight people I know still have house parties, so why not the gays?