Out
on the
town
Al Schaben/DN
Michael dances through streams of lights and strobes at an Omaha gay dance club. Chad, left rear, and Zach dance in the background.
Gay night life lacks variety, bar owner says
By Mark Baldridge
Senior Ref>orter
The dance floor is crowded. A
strobe light throws everything
into an obscure clarity, like
old-time photography.
A couple dances by, hypnotized
by each other, locked body to body.
Someone spills a l>cer; cigarette
smoke stings the eyes. In short, it’s
a bar like any other.
It could almost be a fraternity
hangout except for one thing: iTiere
are a lot of men dancing with men.
This is a gay bar. It happens to
be a bar in Omaha, but it could be
in a lot of towns.
Everyone knows someone who
is a homosexual but not everyone
knows he or she knows one. For a
lot of reasons some people prefer
their privacy when it comes to sex.
It’s not so hard to understand.
Some bars prefer to remain, if
not in the closet, at least incognito
when it comes to their gay clien
tele. They offer the customer the
option of remaining private about
his or her sexual orientation.
If homosexuals want a social
atmosphere in which to sec and be
seen, to meet other homosexuals,
then it makes sense that straight
people hanging around will just
clutter the social horizon.
Jay Carson owns The Metro at
1516 Jones St. in Omaha.
“We are a gay bar and we try to
keep it that way," he said. "But we
allow straight people in if they’re
cool to what’s Happening."
Besides offering a congenial
social setting, The Metro brings in
entertainers from around the coun
try: musicians, comedians and “pom
stars."
It’s also open until \ a m. on
Saturdays, though it can’t serve liquor
after 1 am.
- ((
We are a gay bar and we
try to keep it that way.
But we allow straight
people in if they’re cool
to what’s happening.
Canon
bar owner
-ft -
Carson bemoans the lack of gay
culture venues in Nebraska.
“I don’t think there’s enough
alternative things to do. Bars are
thconly night life. There are nogay
restaurants."
One wonders what homosexu
als who don’t like bars can do to
find specifically gay social sellings.
A definite void in Omaha’s so
cial scene, Carson said, is that there
are no gay dating services.
“Basically it’s a Saturday night
town,* he said.
Although he’s been involved in
the gay-bar business for a long
time, he’s only been the owner of
one for the last seven months.
He said he was surprised by
“how torn apart the gay and les
bian community really is." He said
he had thought the homosexual
community would stick together
more, but he found it was "not
unified at all.” I Ie complained that
politics among homosexual organi
zations were most often to blame.
Kelly, who doesn’t want her last
name to be used, is the owner and
general manager of Panic at 200 S.
18th St. in Lincoln. She agreed with
Carson to an extent.
“But," she said, “if the subcul
tures in the gay community can’t
get along, then 1 don’t know how
we can expect the heterosexual
community to either.
“For us to make any type of
political stance we’ve got to align
ourselves in some respect."
Kelly said that every individual
was different.
“You deal on different levels
and political viewpoints whenever
you deal with an individual,” she
said.
Panic is in a unique position as
well, in that it is the only full-time
gay venue in Lincoln. That means
ius clientele is more evenly distrib
uted between gays and lesbians
than it might be.
“There’s one bar here — men
and women have to gel along here,"
she said, “You’ve got to be cordial
to each other."
Erik Uno^/ON
Andy Vasiloff, left, and Verdell Bohlins share a moment In the
Panic bar.
