Christopher Brune-Horan - Gaiety Male Burlesque

 

The first time that I saw the sign that said the Gaiety Theatre, all male burlesque, I was on a yellow school bus with my Cub Scout troop traveling through lower Manhattan on our way to see the Radio City Rockettes. I must have been 10 years old. All the other boys were singing a very rowdy rendition of our favorite bus song, Ravioli. I love Ravioli. Ravioli, it's the one for me. [audience laughter] And they were super, super excited about the pictures of the Rockettes that they had seen. These long-legged dancers always posed with their legs in a kick line. But here I was looking out the window at West 46th street at this sign that said, all male burlesque. 

 

Now, I didn't know what was going on up that dark stairwell, and I didn't know what the two or three guys were doing who were looking over their shoulder before they went up. But I knew that I wanted to find out. I knew that I liked boys the way that most boys liked girls. As early as first grade, when on a jammed family car trip going somewhere, I was thrown in the backseat on my cousin John's lap and I didn't want to get out of the car. [audience laughter] 

 

In fifth grade, I played my first spin the bottle game. I just was acutely aware that I wanted that bottle to land on either Chip or Billy or Pat. It just kept landing on Bridget over [audience laughter] and over and over. If it did land on two boys, they just spun it again like nobody cared. And it wasn't even an option. [audience laughter] The environment in my small town about gay was hostile, and my body and my voice betrayed me. I strutted where other boys walked, and people were starting to mistake me for my mother when I picked up the phone and said hi. People like my father, who should have known better. [audience laughter] 

 

Junior high was the worst. I mean, it truly got dangerous. People started calling me faggot in the hallway. I was taking shit wherever I went. At the time, my thinking was that if I just became very small and I didn't say anything about it, that maybe it would go away. You know, I might handle that differently today. But then I just thought, if I start fighting with people, I'm going to be bloody every day of my life. And so, around the same time, my best buddy, Agnes and I, we started sneaking down to New York City on the bus. She was an underdog as well. 

 

She was Polish, with the unfortunate last name of Spakowitz, Agnes Spakowitz. And kids were cruel to her as well. We loved the movie, Fame. We loved the Soundtrack. We used to sing it in the streets. We felt so very free in New York City. We would sit on the steps of the School of Performing Arts, pretending to be students. And that was when I saw the Gaiety Theatre again. My heart started to race. 

 

I steered Agnes over by the entrance, carefully noting that shows began on the hour that beginning at 01:00 PM, and later I left her at the New York Public Library, browsing and I ran the four blocks and two avenues it took to get me back there. I was as shady as anybody else going up. I guess nobody goes up proudly. [audience laughter] I threw my shoulders back with this pitiful attempt to look older, but the bored lady taking tickets, she couldn't even be bothered to look at me. It was just one crank of the turnstile, and I was in there. 

 

I was in there and I remember the whole place had this just this feeling of forbidden. It took a while for my eyes to adjust. It was just black. There was men everywhere, ranging in age from 20 to 80, but nobody was looking at anybody. I remember noticing that somebody had cared enough to hang wallpaper, but there were sweat marks on it where the dancers leaned against it to tie their shoes. I was scared. I didn't know what to do. I was frozen. I remember I heard muffled voices, and I knew that there was a movie playing. So, I pushed the lobby doors open. And there, for the first time in my life, in big Technicolor, in huge screen, was gay pornography. I had never seen men having sex before. 

 

Suddenly, the movie stopped and music started to play. The screen went up and there was a black box stage. I realized all male burlesque means strip show. I had no idea, [chuckles] like I was that young. This construction worker walks out on the stage, and somebody says into a microphone, “Gentleman, Dino.” And this Italian guy comes out on the stage, and I realize I'm about to watch a strip show. He literally starts to dance awkwardly, like he was in pain. Nobody moves. We're all as embarrassed as he is. Nobody's catcalling or whistling like they do at women in movies. 

 

And then, suddenly he's done, and he's just down to his underwear and he leaves the stage. I'm sitting there with my testosterone churning, wondering like what's going to happen. And then, he comes back on stage where the slow song starts to play. This time, he's stark naked with nothing but work boots. He just walks around, not even bothering to dance anymore, just displaying himself like a toddler who hasn't been schooled yet or a rooster in a barn guy. [audience laughter] 

 

Anyway, I ended up going back to the Gaiety. The next time, I went back to the Gaiety, I had $60 in my pocket, and I hired a dancer who looked just like Leroy from Fame. I ended up going back there about 10 more times throughout high school. It was my secret that I told no one about. I had my first experience with a guy there in a fire escape, just off the backstage entrance. It wasn't my ideal. [audience laughter] 

 

I remember we locked eyes with having that gaydar radar that we have, and we went back there and he obliged. It was nothing that I was proud of at the time. But I went back there recently with my husband on a trip to New York, and I saw the Gaiety Theatre and it's gone. The marquee is gone. Everything about that error. I told my husband what I did, and I was very proud of that kid who had done that, who had the courage to find sanctuary and survive.