Well, I was window-shopping at the French Market Place the other night, when the distinctive catchy beat of a hit from the past - "Love to Love You Baby" - began to float through the bustling cafe.
Ah - a myriad of scintillating images of erotic-filled Disco Nights at Studio 1 - came flooding back!
The week-end at the trendy watering hole attracted the biggest turn-out. By midnight on Friday or Saturday - a muscled pack of studly young hunks descended on the trendy watering hole - originally owned by the infamous Scott Forbes.
Once a toy-boy managed to maneuver his shapely a** through a long queue that usually snaked down La Peer Street - he often encountered "Rose" on the upstairs landing - who photographed all the young studs as they came through the "revolving" door that was known as gay gulch.
Who knows, the young hottie might be featured on the wide screen hanging over the dance floor, the following week!
The ubiquitous bar was always a hotbed of activity - manned by the most flawless bartenders in town - who served up seemingly endless rounds of exotic cocktails, shooters, and expensive splits of champagne.
Then - when the sensual pulsating beat of a Donna Summer vinyl started up - a roar would surge up from the dance floor as hundreds of writhing slithering sweat-soaked bodies tossed off their shirts, sniffed a little poppers, and began to rock away the night in a sort-of tribal dance.
Ah, those were wild uninhibited days, and - in a way - such innocent times. With a fistful of surplus dollars, gays snapped up her records, and Ms. Summer rose to the top of the charts.
It was truly a "summer" of love that year.
Then, suddenly, shock waves shot throughout the gay and lesbian community.
One day out-of-the-blue - Donna Summer suddenly found "God" - and became a devout Christian. On the heels of this dramatic turn in her life, the nervy chanteuse proceeded to publicly denounce the gay lifestyle - and in the wake of the disastrous public relations move - lost her million-dollar fan base during the course of the fiasco.
Faster than you could say - "Brutus" or traitor - Summer's hit records not only ended up in trash bins in a zillion bits of distressed plastic all over the country - but vanished from the airwaves, as well.
Guess a lot of those closeted "fags" or the "Velvet Mafia" manipulated behind the scenes to ensure she - as the old saying goes - would never take lunch in this town again.
Ms. "holier-than-thou" slunk away in disgrace. Though she tried a couple of comebacks in recent years - after apologizing profusely to the gay community - nada!
Now, it appears Ms. Summer and her record company are trying to resurrect the dead.
Well, one Christian ethic is to "forgive".
Will the rainbow community turn the cheek and give her a second chance?
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