THE VOICE OF CHICAGO'S GAY, LESBIAN, BI, TRANS AND QUEER COMMUNITY SINCE 1985

Thirty-three years ago [ in 1959 ] , a young kid named Larry Graham, just out of high school, came to Chicago from Columbus, Ohio, and stayed at the YMCA on Division. His company had sent him to be a secretary in their new office opening in the Loop. He had already won national fame for being The North American Typing Champion. 'They gave us the speech of Nikita Khrushchev, when he pounded his shoe on the table at the U.N. and threatened 'he would bury us.' They put electric wires to the back of my head and an electric eye scanned the copy. One mistake and you were disqualified. I won, typing 177 words per minute. No mistakes!'

Near the Y at night he discovered a few gay hot spots, one called The Volleyball, and the other The Scarlet Ribbon. A perverse play on gender roles, The Volleyball was a bar 'for girls,' and The Scarlet Ribbon 'for boys.' He also found a couple of all-purpose gay bars, King's Ransom at 20 E. Chicago and the Haig at 800 N. Dearborn. Gramma Chris, the Haig's star bartender, took the young kid from Ohio under her care and gave him a full education.

'I was dumb then. You had to be 19 to get into bars and be able to drink liquor. I used my real Ohio IDs, which showed I was 17. When I officially turned 19, on Nov. 4, 1962, one owner joshed with me at the door, 'Now, kid, you're legal. Those IDs are good.'

'In those early days, at the bars in Chicago, I finally figured out my story: I was gay. It was kind of funny, because when I went back to Columbus, I discovered that I had always already been going to gay places even there, but didn't know it. I came out sexually at 12. A preacher's two sons, Floyd and Lloyd, brought me out. In high school, I was equipment manager for sports teams. We used to play around with each other, and I just thought this was normal sex for boys.'

Being gay has never really been a problem in Larry's life. It's something he has always been, always enjoyed, and always been comfortable with. 'Look, I was born in a town called Nellie, Ohio. And my father called me 'Butch.' That's my story. Even today at birthday parties, I like to wear a T-shirt my friends gave me that says, 'Butch from Nellie, Ohio.''

I asked him, 'How did you get the name we all know you by, Sophie? From Sophie Tucker?'

'No, it wasn't from Sophie Tucker, that persona belongs to Tillie, the Dirty Old Lady, and is one of her acts. When I do drag, I'm just me in drag, I'm just Sophie, a man in a dress. I am the same person when I wear a suit and go to work. What happened, a little after I was in town, a bunch of us guys had a party and read a script from a play. I was assigned to read the part of a character named Sophie Tease. They started calling me 'Sophie' that night, and the name stayed with me ever since.

'Sophie is more my real name than my real name. At work, I answer to Larry or Mr. Graham, but in at the bars or out at community events if someone calls me 'Larry,' I don't even think it's me, I'm Sophie.'

From the time he was 19, Sophie has kept with his original life pattern: hard work, hard play, little sleep, and have a ball. Larry Graham, all these years, has been a secretary and office manager for a firm that keeps the financial markets running. He has to be at that job at 6 a.m. Also at 19, he started his career as Sophie the bartender at the Haig, a place that housed all his loves and delights. According to old bar guide codes, the Haig was Mf/NLdGd: 'Male establishment, females welcome. Neighborhood. Lounge. Dancing ( later disco ) . Go-Go-Boys. 4 a.m. closing.'

'I appreciate Gramma Chris for showing me the ropes. She was a pro. I learned the rules from her. You don't come to work tired. No excuses! You may be in a bad mood, your lover may be a problem, but your job is not to share your personal problems with your customers. You serve them, make them happy.'

Sophie learned from Chris and other bartenders who began in that era: Feathers; Rose of Big Red's; Roby Landers, who had the House of Landers on Diversey and was killed mysteriously in Atlanta; Aggie, now at Cheeks; and Charlie Oliver, now at TJ's on Oak.

Sophie stayed employed several years at the Haig, which has now become a Mex-Tex restaurant with a sign out in front that claims, 'We Serve the Best Chicken.' That motto fit the Haig as well. Then Sophie had a period where her resume was like Michael K's: every bar, everywhere. 'They used to joke, Sophie, close a bar!' She worked stints at the Stage 618 on Clark, which featured male dancers, The Ranch on Hubbard, where they had a section called 'Sophie's Landing,' K's on Clark and Molly's Follies, both near Wrightwood, Carol's and The Other Side, at Briar and Broadway, formerly Crystal Blinkers, where the Annoyance Theater is today. Then she had a long tour at the inner Circle, on Clark, and finally now is an owner and partner in business with Ben Allen and Rene VanHulle at the Lucky Horseshoe Lounge at Halsted and Belmont, known for their male dancers, darts, and party atmosphere.

Besides working in the Loop, and bartending at the Haig, Sophie became a gay activist. He met Ira Jones, a long-time gay leader and co-founder of Mattachine Midwest, Girth & Mirth, and Black and White Men Together. Jones enticed Sophie to be PR director and social chair for Mattachine Midwest. Like the national, the local chapter of Mattachine was one of the major groups of the '50s, that fought for gay rights into the '80s.

Mattachine, as their ads stated, 'defends the rights of homosexuals and tries to create a climate of understanding and acceptance. They were founded in 1950 by Harry Hay along with a couple of other members of the Communist Party. They operated like a radical cell, with the secrecy of a Masonic fraternal lodge.'

Mattachine, their name, comes from medieval French history and refers to court jesters who always wore masks in public. Early members of Mattachine, Jim Bradford, whose real name is Jim Osgood, wore the mask of another name in order to protect his public job. Sophie used the name of Larry Green. Their newsletter, in its time, was like a radical 'zine. They published the names and badge numbers and sketches of undercover cops who tried to entrap gays in parks and public toilets. Sophie remembers those days of terror. 'If you were arrested, like the guys after the raid on the Lincoln Baths, the Tribune would publish your real name, address, and occupation on the front page. Many lives were ruined. Guys would arrive to work the next day, and their boss would tell them to 'clear out their desk' they had 15 minutes to leave the premises. We had no job protection.'

Sophie has experienced the bar scene in Chicago through three major periods: Before Disco, 1959-1973; Disco from the time the original Bistro opened at 420 N. Dearborn May 31, 1973, until it closed on May 31, 1982; and After Disco, marking the movement north and the rise of the bars on Halsted. I asked Sophie what the bars were like before Disco.

The largest cluster of bars were on division and moved south into the Gold Coast and Rush Street areas. Bars like Shoreline, Sams, Talk of the Town, the Office, Freddy's Key Club, Golden Shutter, RickaShaw, 21 Club, Front Page. There was the Dome at the Sherman Hotel. He also liked the Blue Pub at 3059 W. Irving Park, and the Lost & Found 2959, a women's bar that let Sophie in. The original Gold Coast and Jamies.

In those days, Kitty Sheon's, 745 N. Rush, was the premier gay men's bar in town. Where gentlemen met gentlemen after work, a jacket and tie required. Some of the old-time restrictions, which didn't allow men to hold hanks, kiss, or dance together, were still in play. As Soplie remembers, 'Your seat at your bar stool was yours alone. If you tried to change seats, or move around, they would ask you to leave. There was no overt cruising. You never gave your real name, your real phone number. And above all, you never told anyone where you worked in the day time.'

Sophie liked the small bars better, the so-called 'trash bars.' That's where 'you could let your hair down, or put it up if you wanted.' Bars like the Blue Pub, or Bob's Bistro A Go-Go. They didn't have video, just a pinball machine. No DJ or DJ booth, just a jukebox playing something like Petula Clark's 'Downtown.'' Rock didn't come to gay clubs till the mid '70s. When Sophie wanted to hear music that was real or progressive she went to Black clubs. Pop 40 standards were in the gay bars, and showtunes.

In those bars, things didn't entertain you, you had to entertain each other. Most trash bars would fill up with 20 customers, and be over crowded with 40. The idea was to have fun, party together. Take your plastic shot cups and throw them against the back wall when you were finished.

Bartenders attracted their own special following and made up their own signature drinks. Sophie was famous for her drink called 'Skip and Go Naked'—beer, gin and lime juice. They would make up rude songs and sing along together, like 'Bye Bye Cherry' sung to the tune of 'Bye Bye Black Bird':

Back your ass against the wall

Here I come, balls and all

Bye, bye cherry.

You came once,

I came twice,

Gee, it was nice

Bye, bye cherry.

Silly, but fun. They turned 'party' into a verb. Play all day in the bar together, leave and go to someone's home and party. They stayed, more together as a group. They went to the bars to have fun in the bars, more than to just cruise. But after the bar closed you might find the whole gang out at the bushes in Lincoln Park, not having told anyone where they were going, and acting surprised when they ran into each other again.

Sophie's favorite time was the next wave, Disco, and the dance bars of the early '70s to mid-'80s. The Bistro was the center, where the mirrored ball came down and glitter was everywhere. But around the Bistro, like satellites, another cluster of bars and spots stayed busy on Hubbard, Clark and Illinois, the second Gold Coast, Redoubt, Baton, Sunday's New Flight, My Brother's Place, Club Baths, Barracks, Jumbo Jerry's, the Food Hole ( where Gordon's is today ) , the Ranch, Ozone, O'Banion's 618, PJ's, The Machine Shop. A second cluster of bars arose around Clark and Diversey: Ruthie's, Orange Cockatoo, Shiri's, Big Red's, Cheeks, Dion's, El Dorado, Snake Pit, Knight Out, Virgo Out ( formerly Checkmate ) . The Oak Tree at Rush was the all-night restaurant, where Frankie the red-haired lady was in charge. 'You had to call for reservations to get in after the bars closed. Pictures of gay celebrities, like Jim Flint and Mother Carol, hung on the wall.'

Sophie played hard in the '70s. 'After the bar closed, we'd go to the Flight to find a husband for the night.' Eddie Dugan, owner of the Bistro, aptly described the Flight as 'a bar without gimmicks. Just hustlers!' Sophie did sex by the numbers in those days, but cut down in 1982. 'I don't know why. I had no real idea that AIDS was coming. Just sort of pulled in my sails.'

In 1981, Sophie was working at the Other Side, the bar with a bar on the roof. This particular night she was in a long black dress, carrying four drinks on a tray. Going up to the roof, she slipped on the linoleum, but didn't spill a drink. Ben Allen and his partner Bobby Lee were there and saw Sophie's graceful act. 'We've got to talk to you. Anyone who can do that should come to work for us.' Sophie went with Ben and Bobby to the Inner Circle. Later joining with Ben Allen and Rene VanHulle to form the Lucky Horseshoe. 'I know some say Ben is difficult to work for. But I must say that I would never be a part owner today without Ben's help. I can do my station and keep a following. But I have no vision on how to put together a total bar. Ben and Rene have that. They tell me what to do, and they are right.

'I miss the fun of the old days. Our bars have become expensive and too respectable. I don't want my customers throwing their empty shot glasses against the wall. Our decorations cost too much! I still try to keep an atmosphere of party and trash. Still engage each customer as a person. Talk with them, play darts with them, make them feel a part of the bar.

'I still support community events, and have a hand in politics. But I miss the old days. You know. I was the leader of the Village People's Fan Club. We used to get thousands to their concerts. 'YMCA' is my favorite song. I loved the high energy of the night life. Gloria Gaynor singing 'I will Survive' or Alicia Bridges singing 'I Love the Night Life.' Grace Jones at Center Stage. Two Tons 'O Fun singing 'It's Raining Men.' Shivers still go through me when I think of these party days.

'It's different today. Bars have become more subtle, more sophisticated. Running them takes real management skill. And then there's AIDS. In one week, I gave five eulogies. I am becoming a professional 'eulogist.' So many of the guys I worked with are gone. Only a handful of us 30-year bartenders are left.

'I think of so many who have died so young in their prime. I think of Ronnie Jones this year. He worked for us, and at the 905 Club on Belmont. A trash bar, which their customers called affectionately the '905 Dive.' Ronnie was with us at the Inner Circle.

'He was one of the most elegant people I have ever known. His home was immaculate, just like the way he dressed. He gave to this community, supported every cause, went to every rally and function. To some he was just a face in the crowd. To me a great guy. While he had AIDS, he took care of his mother who had Alzheimer's. He saw her every day, even when she didn't recognize him, or seemed to know that he was sick too. She died, first. I respect that.'

Sophie deserves our respect, too. That Butch guy from Nellie, Ohio, who is comfortable in a dress or a suit, comfortable with either pronoun 'him or her,' is a model for pride. Like the Old Epicurean, he has 'tried everything bad, but done nothing harmful.' He's lived several full lives and is ready to celebrate his White Castle 50th Birthday on Nov. 4. As he says, looking back, 'Life is short, so have a ball.'

Windy City Times ( June 25, 1992 ) . This essay also appears in Angels Into Dust, an anthology of Damski's work.

Sophie has since passed away.