Backstreet. (Blogohphilia 35.6)

Holly came from Miami, F.L.A.
Hitch-hiked her way across the U.S.A.
Plucked her eyebrows on the way
Shaved her legs and then he was a she
She says, "Hey, babe
Take a walk on the wild side"
She said, "Hey, honey
Take a walk on the wild side"  

Lou Reed, 1972

Before I was married, I was club kid.  From the mid 1970's through most of the 1980's, I could be found at various music venues in Atlanta and Athens. 40 Watt, Little Five Points Pub and Agora Ballroom dictated my schedule with both up and coming and national acts. I was always looking for the next best sound.   Because I was also fooling around on College radio, I occasionally got to meet the musicians and get a feel for where they were coming from and where they were going.  

During this time I had a friend, Steven.  A gentle soul, he was the first truly Gay person I spent any significant time with. He was the brother of a girl a bunch of us used to date.  We accepted him for who he was and the fact he could drink most of us under the table. He spent a lot of time taking us walking on the wild side.Usually, this involved getting us into gay clubs where under normal circumstances we would not be welcome, like Backstreet.  

One of the oldest alternate clubs in Atlanta, this place was an odd mix of Disco and Drag Burlesque. It was located down a narrow side street in Midtown. The clientele ranged from professional looking male couples to refugees from motorcycle gangs. I knew a number of women who would go on Monday nights just to dance with partners that treated them like royalty and expected nothing in return. On the other nights, some of the best Drag performers in the world would take the stage to make fun of the world around them. I would go with Steven and his partner Bob.  It was a good excuse to drink myself silly and have a good time.

One Friday night trip, Steven introduced me to a rather tall, thin black man wearing a muscle shirt and leather pants.  He called himself Paul and he had just recently moved to Atlanta from San Diego. We hung around the bar for an hour or so chatting and he mentioned he was one of the performers. I was doing a lot of community theater then, so comparing notes on roles and audiences was kind of fun.  Paul was very soft spoken, so I kind of wondered what his schtick was going to be. He soon excused himself to go get ready and everybody else turned around with our cocktails to watch the show. 

The first act was a Joan Jett parody, complete with Motorcycle jacket and Stratocaster.  Too bad he couldn't carry a tune in a bucket. A chorus of catcalls came raining down.  A couple of patrons in matching dog collars threw dog treats at him.  To the performer's credit, he just ignored everything and finished the set. We just got another round of Martinis and debated whether we should take the bartender's offer of earplugs.

The next act was a takeoff on Roy Rogers.  Entering on a Carousel Horse that had been fitted with casters and a gorgeous pommel saddle, he made a fine profile.  His boots were good cowhide and his Martin guitar was well tuned.  This one could sing.  Texas yodels were mixed with upbeat trail songs and the audience sang along. During the middle of the set, a leather halter was brought out and a lucky audience member was selected to be led around the club like Trigger.  I was drunk enough I thought is was hilarious.  Even Doggy couple seemed to dig it.  As he finished, the audience cheered and the waitstaff hustled to get everyone refilled for the finale.  It dawned on me I hadn't seen Paul yet, so I wondered what I was in for.  

The houselights dimmed and everyone settled in for the main act.  A single, pink filtered spotlight lit the cheap curtain while a snare roll hushed everyone from the room. Voila, out stepped...

...in all of his glory.  Six foot Six in Six inch stilettos and taking charge. The platinum wig clashing with his dark coffee skin, he was a sight to behold.   As he took charge, the 40 minute set seemed to run by in just seconds.  He was better than 90% of the acts I had seen in the last ten years.  When the show was over, our group hung around a little bit to congratulate him on the show.  He stayed in character for the meet and greet and gave me his autograph.  Bob snatched it from me, but I didn't really care.  To me, Celebrities are just people with weird jobs.

Over the years, I have watched Paul as he moved to New York and developed his niche in business.  Out of costume in interviews, he is still the soft spoken fellow I met some thirty years ago. I wish him continued success, even though my tastes have changed.  I still feel privileged to have met him.