ADAYATTHE QUARTERS

He glimpsed the already caged boy before he was forced into the spread eagle search position. They were thorough and quick. He was stripped, the clothes securely locked away and his arms spread and cuffed to the cage. Before the hood went on he figured out that there were three Men handling him. The boy inside the cage had obviously already been crotch-shaved. 9973 tried desperately to remember if he had said yes or no on his Basic File where it asked Was he really ready? He looked again at the Men handling him and knew that he was; that he wanted what they were going to make him do and be. After the hood, the shackles were put on his legs; tit clamps and genital equipment were applied with convincing pressure.

Which one of these Men was his Drill Instructor? He suddenly realized that no words had been spoken since he had entered the cell block. He tried hard to tell the differences between the Men by the way he was touched. The one in the half-hood had not taken off the leather gloves, so he was easiest to determine. He was also, so far, the most forceful. There was equality among the Men and they seemed coordinated, yet one of

While 9973 was moved to the overhead rack and unhooded the other boy was taken from the cage into another cell block, 9973 didn't worry too much about where the other boy went, especially when his ass began to feel the paddle. It was the same Man that had first taken him into custody.

DRUMMER 10

Was this his Drill Instructor? Had his D.I. even been in the cell block yet? He knew that he would serve any of the Men he had seen up to now. His mind was working on ways he could show them that he wanted to be theirs. Was he supposed to find some way of showing which one of them he wanted to serve most? The fucking questions only heightened his willingness to be worthy. Shit, was his ass getting hot! The hooded one brought him amyl. He sniffed, glad of this sign of understanding from The Hood. To him a hood had always only been for submissives . But this hood was clearly cut differently and served to mask only the identity, not the power.

The big Man's arms continued to handle the paddle and him. Somehow the sting in his ass made his entire body sensitive to touch. His nipples, already erect from the clamps, needed only to be grazed by those hands to bring precum to his hard dick.

The rattle of chains signaled the return of the boy who had been caged before. The boy was strapped into the old bar- ber's chair. The pot of hot oil was taken from the stove and the training actually began.

Carefully moving towards goals that only the Men knew, the boys were urged to figure out the correct answers to the hard-put questions over the next few hours. Their bodies felt what their minds couldn't figure out fast enough. The boys served well. They always do, sooner or later, at The Quarters.

9073 knew of the many possibilities at The Quarters, He could either come back as often as he could qualify and know that he would get more of this same treatment. Or he could go further, stay longer or even possibly be assigned to a D.I. for Quarters Duty on a regular duty roster. Or he could begin to take responsibility for new boys, get to handle them and begin to be a top, if that was what he wanted and he could show that he was willing to be responsible.

Right now he just wanted to grovel, to serve, to be the property of his D.I. He had finally figured out which one that was. Right now there was no outside world and he could loose his deepest needs in the boots and crotches of the

Men at The Quarters.

order men matching specific measure- ments to fill physical demands; a nice little cellblock to jack off in. There were periods of time that we simply did not answer mail or phone calls because the answer mail or prione can't because up- phonies exhausted our willingness to try. The men who came infrequently, when their schedules permitted, or only came once, never to return or be heard from again, were not the probl and mentally, or who did not keep arrangements that required sincere and elaborate efforts on our part, were the ones that made the going hard.

Ah, but then there are the unforgettable sessions that last for hours and sometimes days, the trainings that result in serious slaves, the spontaneous sweat of being able to take someone really hot to a place where the experience can be total, the lasting relationships that make our lives work and feeling that we are contributing to the Leather Lifestyle while we are learning from each other and teaching and growing. There are nights we go out together, help produce parties, help get Leather business done and watch out for each other. Men who take and make their experiences serious sharing that with other, like men. That's what we are now and that's what keeps us in The Quarters.

Some of the mail gets answered, at our convenience now. The phone number has been changed. Only the hardy and hearty get through. Sometimes the lucky. We know each other intensely, with caring and even loving and we measure new men by their abilities to fulfill them- selves and The Quarters. Beginners are as welcome as the heavyduty. We get off on learning new things about ourselves

The Quarters cellblocks, uniform collections , offices, bunkhouse, field equipment and personnel are used in many different ways in the community now. Just a group of men? Maybe. Not for everybody for sure. A safe place fo find out the answers to your Leather fanta- sies. A way of Life for some. An absolutely private and confidential place to let it happen. What happens inside The Quarters is not discussed outside of The

For the proud, not the snobbish; the qualified, not the arrogant; to serve the Leather Community, not try to run it. For the physically sound and piquant, for the mentally stimulating and stimulated, and for the nasty, devient fuckers that want to do it. Not a business and especially not a bathhouse. A place for men to get it on with men without interruption, long enough and hard enough to satiate each other.

Got a fantasy, a need you want to exercise? Let us hear about it, in detail. Better put a picture in that envelope, boy. The Quarters, P.O. Box 3119, San Francisco, CA 94112.

D.I. 8732 W

DRUMMER covered The Quarters in Issue 24 when it was just beginning to be known. It has transformed the lives of some of the men who have been booked into the facilities. Since it is not a business , as these men came back or stayed with The Quarters there have been changes made in the operation. It remains a real place and experience South of Market in San Francisco.

Leather in the custody of Leather. Men straining chains to reach their limits. All the devient, fantasizing and gutsy men fall in on the right.

Most fantasies are exactly that because the men who dare to dream don't have the balls to live. Half-assed com- mitments don't pay off with satisfaction, yet assholes still wonder why they find life unfulfilled when they can't scrape up the guts to even try to find what their fantasies feel like on their bodies. Fantasies are rarely convenient in reality. That makes them more valuable.

In creating The Quarters, the goal was to be as real as fantasy could create, convenient or not. It is in the commitment to your fantasies that you find your joys, truths, your creativity, your tomorrows, your values in terms of self-worth and your ability to fulfill others and their fantasies.

The Quarters. No bullshit. We really mean it when we say it's not a public place in any way. Even when you know where it's at you can't get in without permission or orders to report. And when you get orders you know better than to fuck up.

Leather linking men to men requires exact alloys. Specific needs for specific needs and a willingness to need more sometimes. Limits acknowledged. Barriers broken. Connections made. Slaves trained. Masters met and made. Sweat, piss, grease, bondage, wrestling, uniforms, drills and more. A definite, individual experience. For those few who know and those others who want to discover the vast, intelligent and intellectual difference between S&M and honest Bondage and Discipline.

A thousand files of fuckface fantasies ain't where it's at, if dreamers are afraid to live. Bulk mailings, jackoff phoners, arrangement-changers and losers are not

Quarters Personnel.

Hardheavyhot requisite sex, bound to serve. Cages for uncaged desires. Leather for lathered obsessions. Bondage for the discipline of your soul. Discipline for the bondage of your body. The evocation of your painful pleasures. The pleasures of serious tribadism. Trust finding fulfillment . This is what The Quarters has become . Enough without too much.

In two years of trying to serve, con- tact and connect bonafidely sexual Men, the waste of money, time and tremendous effort seemed hardly worth it. People tried hard to make us what we are not: a last ditch for the lonely; a service to use at any hour a dick gets hard; mail-

Of course, I was a bit worried at the beginning of the summer. I'm a hedonist, to say the least. There are several very good reasons why I choose to spend my summers on the

Island. Reading is not one of them.

But Booker turned out to be the ideal housemate - always considerate and unobtrusive (unlike the animals I've wound up with past summers). For my part, I went out of my way to be sure I didn't offend what I assumed were his delicate sensi-bilities . I kept the heavy stuff out of the house. I didn't indulge, either, in any Monday (or Tuesday or Wednesday or Thursday) morning quarterbacking about my exploits in the meat rack. And life with Booker - so tranquil, so organized, so downright bookish — seemed to add a special spur to my sex life in the bushes and elsewhere that summer.

Daniel [×4+] Booker met in the weight room at the Y one muggy day in June. Daniel was pumping iron and inflating hearts as well as his own very perfect, very beautiful lats and pecs.

Yes, Daniel would love to go out for a cup of coffee. Yes, Daniel adored Celine, too - in spite of Celine's politics. Yes, Daniel felt that Pound was a more difficult question. Yes, Daniel lived right up the street. No, Daniel was too tired today after his workout … And the next evening, after the ballet (getting the tickets had been one of those through-the-eye-of-the needle ordeals) Daniel was a little headachy … And that next week, and the next, and the next — until I was ready to go back into the city and rape Daniel myself, just from hearing about it.

At last, in the middle of July, Troy fell.

"How was it?" I asked, literally salivating from the news. "Very nice," Booker said.

We were lying on the beach. Booker's well-oiled chest rose and fell to the rhythm of the surf. Just preceptably. My own heart was pounding. "Is that all?" I nearly shouted at him. "Is that all you can say? 'Very nice'?"

"Well, what do you want me to say?"

"You finally land this hot number all of New York has wet pants over and all you can say is 'very nice'?"

Booker's eyes flickered open, briefly. His face was still expressionless. "Well, it was. Very nice."

I got up, pulled off my trunks, ran down the beach and took a running dive into the first big wave that came in.

"Has he showed up there?" It was Booker on the phone from the harbor. "No," I said. "Why don't you just come back to the house.

You've been down there waiting for him since six.'

"I hope he's all right."

"He'll probably call. He probably got held up. He doesn't need you to meet him at the ferry. He knows the way." I hung up.

It was getting on my nerves, Booker and Daniel, Another weekend of bitching and kvetching I didn't need. This was true love?

Booker came home. It was his night, so he began cooking the dinner he'd bought for Daniel - flank steak, summer squash, salad - for the two of us.

Daniel arrived, characteristically, during dinner. I was almost relieved to have someone - even Daniel - break the sulky silence over the dinner table.

As soon as he heard Daniel's footsteps on the stairs, Booker ran outside to meet him on the deck. They went into their little dance outside in the dark. I couldn't help but hear:

"I said I was leaving the city at six, not taking the six o' clock ferry," said Daniel. "Oh," said Booker, "I had the distinct impression you said the ferry." "Well, I didn't." "Well, I waited." "It's just that I was disap help me with these?" "Poor baby. Are you all right?" "That nice man, that James, helped me. It was a good thing he spotted me." "I waited," Booker said. This was followed by low muttering.

Daniel came in, leaning on a cane. Booker was behind him, with the bags - Daniel did not travel light, even for a weekend on the Island.

"What's that for?" I asked, pointing to the cane. "I had a little accident," Daniel said, mysteriously. "He pulled his back at the gym," Booker said, hustling the bags into his room. "Don't say that," Daniel said. "It sounds so crass." He sat down.

Booker fretted and fussed over him, got him a cushion, cut up his meat, worried over him, apologized again for missing the ferry, hovered over him. The cane kept falling onto the floor with a loud crack and Booker kept retrieving it and propping it up again.

"Where does it hurt?" I asked after dinner.

Daniel stood up (with no apparent difficulty), dropped his chinos, pulled up his T-shirt in the back, pointed to the location on his spine. He gave me a full rundown on the injury, his doctor's diagnosis, the drugs he was taking, the prognosis for recovery - all with his chinos hanging down around his knees.

Daniel was as big and as beautiful as all Booker's lovers had been - curly-headed, dark, mustachioed, with dark smooth Arabian-looking skin - but not as dumb as any of the others by half. He knew the effect he was having on me. And on Booker.

"More coffee?" Booker asked.

I went off to see some friends, then out to dance at the Ice Palace, then into the bushes about four in the morning. Some guy asked me to piss on him, so I did, and he thanked me. "I've been looking for a number to do that for the past hour and a half," he said. "You're welcome," I said. All in a night's work

When I got back home it was getting light out. Booker was up, reading. His greeting was rather curt. I took it that the evening hadn't gone well. When I'd left, he was trying to make Daniel comfortable out on the deck in a lawn chair, with little success.

The next day Daniel insisted on walking down to the beach. I looked up from my blanket just in time to see them creeping

THE GUERMAMANTES WAY

BY GEORGE WHITMORE

The night Booker told me about his brother, he began by way of explaining why he'd dropped the wine glasses. He must not have heard me come in (I was barefoot) because when the screen door swung to with a clatter he dropped all six of them and broke every one on the kitchen floor.

As he swept up the broken glass, he explained how his brother used to surprise him all the time by sneaking up behind him and smacking him across the back of the head, for instance.

Then, picking up the little splinters of glass with a wet paper towel, Booker told me how his brother used to put him between the mattress and the springs on the bed, then sit and bounce on top of him. He pulled other little tricks on Booker, too - like making him eat bugs, tripping him on the stairs, giving him a cherry belly, hanging him from the tree in the back yard like the old tire they used for a swing. His brother used to hold his head under the water in the swimming pool, pinch him until his arms were bruised black and blue, light kitchen matches and place them against the soles of his feet while he was sleeping.

Booker told me all this in a calm little voice while he wiped up the floor. His back was to me. The old gym shorts he always wore were rutched down in the back to reveal his jock and the beginnings of his tight, round little ass. "What did your folks do?" I asked.

"They sent him away to school when he stuck a jacknife in my foot playing mumblypeg."

As Booker went about cooking dinner and I cut up the vegetables for salad, he told me all about his revenge fantasy.

It was very elaborate. He wanted to kill his brother. Specifically, he wanted to rent a car and drive down to Baton Rouge, park a few houses away from his brother's, creep up to the living room window — his brother and sisterial-aw would be sitting inside, watching TV — and shoot his brother in the back of the head with a thirty-o

The sister-in-law would be grateful. Booker would get back into his rented car and drive non-stop to New York. There he would drop the rifle into the Hudson at the 79th Street boat basin. He would go home and take a shower, then to bed, to enjoy the first uninterrupted (by nightmares, that is) sleep of his young life.

That's a brief resume of it. I'm leaving out all the bright little touches of humor. His very detailed scenario had quite a chilling effect on me, as I sat at the kitchen table slicing rack in the oven.

"Fantasize."

"Oh, no. Never. Just about that," He turned around and leaned against the sink. His baby blue eyes were shining with pleasure. Then he sat down at the table. He must have realized was looking at his crotch. Even with the jock, anyone could tell he had a hard-on.

This was the first inkling I ever had that Booker might not be quite what he appeared to be - an overgrown Boy Scout. As a matter of fact, he'd once confessed to my friend Carl that he (Booker) had been an Eagle scout, not exactly a badge

That summer Booker and I were housemates in the Grove. I never would have thought of him as a housemate, our personal styles were so different. But Carl had said "never another Fire Island summer, never again, absolutely not," and it was Booker (cash in hand) or some creep I didn't know at all.

Booker was aptly named. (No, he wasn't blac were housemates, he was reading through Proust for the third time, In French.

He would have been tempting, had it not been for that overall scoutish air about him and the fact that we'd already had sex once in the past — it wasn't bad, but it certainly wasn't memorable. I'm not heavy into leather, but I do like the role playing and I like the costumes. Booker didn't even warm up. Too bad, I remember thinking at the time. He was awfully cute (though I never would have used that word to his face) about five-eight, blond-to-auburn haired, and seldom out of that old pair of gym shorts (that I ever saw).

DRUMMER 19

down the steps and onto the sand. Daniel's big arm was around Booker's shoulders and Booker was staggering under the weight. I could see Daniel's mouth moving in a mask of (feigned, I was beginning to suspect) pain. He gestured here and there with the cane, picking out a spot for them to put their beach sheet down. They didn't see me, which was just fine with me. I napped a bit and when I got up to go back to the house I saw them walking down the beach towards the Pines, Booker still bent under Daniel's arm.

I ate out that night.

When I came back to nap and change for dancing, Booker was reading aloud to Daniel out of The Guermantes Way. Daniel was sitting on the couch, with his legs propped up on a cushion on the coffee table, sipping at a big cool glass of Perrier with a lime wedge in it. All was peaceful. Proust, read in Booker's prep school French, wafted into the bedroom and put me to sleep, as Proust always will, no matter which language.

I ran into Mickey Ryan at the Ice Palace and we ended up together for what was left of the night. It was your standardized ritual scene. Mickey has this harness you put him in, and after you shave off his week's growth of body hair he likes you to be his Seventh Grade Phys. Ed. teacher and fuck him.

Booker was out on the back deck when I came home.

"Don't go in there," he said.

"O.K.," I said. I was blissed out on quaaludes and I'm yery docile after a scene like the one with Mickey anyway. I sat down on the railing. "Why not?" It occurred to me to ask.

'You're not going to like it." Booker was shivering in the early morning air. He was wearing nothing but the gym shorts. "Why am I not going to like it?" I was a little less blissed out now.

Then I noticed the bruises. "How'd you get those?"

There were big red welts on his shoulders, I leaned over and looked at his back. There were a couple of big marks over his kidneys, too.

'Is that fucker still here?" I hissed.

"No."

"What the fuck did he do to you?"

Booker shrugged.

I went inside. He was right, I didn't like it. A couple of straight-backed chairs lay smashed in the center of the floor. The table with my stereo and tape deck had been overturned. There was broken glass everywhere. A round, surprisingly symetrical hole had been bashed out of the window next to the front door. The cane was hooked into the hole, evidently had made it in the glass, and hung down outside over the front deck, like a cock at half mast.

"I'll take this out of that fucker's ass," I shouted.

"I'll pay for it," Booker said. He was standing just inside the kitchen door.

"Look out," I said. "You'll get your feet all cut up." But he'd done that already and his feet were bleeding. "Go outside and sit down," I said.

I got a cooking pot and filled it with warm water, my boots crunching in the broken glass, and took the pot and a dish towel out onto the deck. I squatted down at the bottom of the steps and washed Booker's feet. First I pulled out a couple of splinters of glass. "I'll kill that fucker," I said. And meant it. "Where is he?"

"I don't know."

I ran the wet dish towel over the soles of Booker's feet. He was feeling no pain.

"I couldn't stand it anymore," Booker said tonelessly. "I can understand that," I said, looking up at him.

He raised an eyebrow.

'He's a spoiled, petulant asshole," I said.

"You don't understand," Booker said. "I started it."

"If you mean you should have known from the begin- ning …" "No. I mean I started it, I hit him with the cane."

Booker explained. It had started over the pronunciation of Guermantes. Daniel said it was one way, Booker said it was another. Daniel insisted it wasn't, Booker said he (Booker) should know. It escalated, of course, with each one dropping it (mock consessions) and the other picking it up again. "He was ruining Proust for me," Booker said simply. Daniel then asked for more Perrier. Booker got up to get it. Daniel shifted on the couch. The cane fell to the floor. Booker went to pick up the cane. "Oh, leave it there, for God's sake," Daniel said. Booker picked it up. And then, for some reason (without thinking at all what that might have been) Booker swung it and cracked Daniel right across the face. Just like that, It opened up a nice, tidy little cut on Daniel's cheek bone. The cut began to bleed. Booker looked at the cut. Astonishment was written across Daniel's face. Then, Booker realized he (Booker) was smiling. Daniel realized it, too. Daniel put his hand up to the cut, looked at the blood on his fingers, then back at Booker, who was standing there, still smiling. Booker handed the cane to Daniel. The rest, as Booker said, belatedly trying to make a stab at humor, was history.

He was smiling now, too. "Booker," I said, "You are one fucked up dude." "I guess I am." His smile broadened, but a tear popped out of the corner of his eve.

I got up and planted one foot on the middle step, leaned down and put my arms under him, picked him up and carried him into the house. He was lighter than I'd remembered.

I put him in the shower, took off my own clothes, and got in with him. I washed his bruises and washed the night's dancing and sex off myself. Then I got out, dried off, dried him off, put alcohol on his wounds - he didn't even wince - picked him up again and carried him into my bedroom.

I put him on the bed and got in next to him. I pulled the sheet up over us. I put my arm around him. He snuggled up against me. I could feel him against my thigh. He'd been getting turned on in the shower. He'd been hard by the time I finished drying him off.

"Tomorrow, Booker," I said, "or rather today - we're going to go down to the hotel and buy you a little black lea- ther vest, and I think chaps, too. And some little studded leather wrist cuffs. And a cycle cap, for sure. I have everything else here. For starters, you're going to tie me up" - my cock was rising - "and put tit clamps on me. And a blindfold, of course. Just your standardized ritual scene. And then you're going to be my Seventh Grade Phys. Ed. teacher and fuck me. How does that sound?"

He was sleeping.

im. He was letting me know that (hum-mation ) was something he wanted. (To You want pain, don't you, slave?

Jeff: Yes, Sir. Don: At this point, the communica-bon … it's a way for me to check that everything is okay, and that he really is digging what's happening. It's also a way moving into the next thing … in this putting him in bondage on the rack.

It's definitely a mixture of what you ould normally consider your typical easure, with bits of pain gradually being introduced. This particular position with the tension on the arm, tends to create numbness and cut off circulation; and it's good to keep checking to make sure his hands are not turning cold.

Jeff: May I go to the bathroom, Sir? Don: This is basically a time when we want to take a break. But, you'll notice, that there's an attempt to relax without really coming out of the roles. The roles and communication remain intact even though we're really not playing the roles very heavily.

To the extent possible we're taking what has been a fantasy for the two of us for a long time, and making it a reality. Or even creating a reality that we can later use to incorporate into our fantasies after the session. (To Jeff) I want you to count.

Jeff: One, Sir. Thank you, Sir.

Don: Asking the slave to count is a way I have of communicating and testing bow much pain he likes and is a turn-on. can tell from the tone of his voice nether he's really excited or really eaching the point where it's going to become too much. (To Jeff) I am going to give you at least eight strokes.

Jeff: Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir. Don: The whole thing is a way of coming down and being affectionate, trying express — in this way, not so pain- fully — the intensity of feelings that the two of us have accumulated during the session.'

The imagery of S&M has been used exploitively in other cases — to sensa-sonalize and frighten a uniformed public. Frediken used that ploy in his contro-ersial film Cruising, to excess. CBS re- cently aired an alleged look at the gay political process in San Francisco in hich unrelated S&M imagery was added upset the general public's sense of decorum. In fact, after the CBS program ared, critics across the country de-mounced it as yellow journalism on a grand scale,

But S&M: One Foot Out of the Coset did not falter in it's basic inten-son to be honest and compassionate. It is the kind of programming probably only possible on a local level; on public television - where ratings and sponsor considerations don't exist. Unlike the CBS program, where integrity was never a consideration, Closet approached its sub-ect and the people involved with a tremendous sense of integrity

This superb program will be re-aired in ay of this year; if at all possible, try to see it — you'll find, perhaps for the first ime, that you have not been betrayed by the non-gay establishment media.

- John W. Rowberry

San Francisco Opronicle

Wed., Feb. 13, 1980

Rave Response to S & M Program on Channel 9

A documentary Monday night on sado-masochism in the Bay Area brought KQED TV close to 1000 telephone calls, one of its biggest responses, news director Roxanne Russell said yesterday.

"We normally get maybe a hundred calls when we have feedback after a program, and we got eight to ten times that amount" on the documentary, Russell said.

She said she was surprised that about 70 percent of those calling in approved of the show, and of Channel 9 producing it.

"Most of them wanted repeats," she said. One 12-year-old called in to find out what role youngsters his age have in S & M.

As for the other 30 percent, "most of them seemed troubled more by the subject matter itself rather than whether it belonged on television," she said. "People didn't want to believe that S & M is really here. few were repelled by the hour-long production and half-hour live studio discussion that followed, and threatened to cancel their support, she said.

Russell said the production took more than six months to research, some information surprised the researchers as well as most viewers.

Most S & M in the Bay Area is practiced by heterosexuals, not homosexuals, as was thought to be the case when the research started, she said

"We found out it was easiest to permeate the gay S & M movement — you know, you see them on the street in their leather and chains and keys, Russell said. But after repeated attempts, we finally gained the trust of the heterosexual S&M community as well and learned there are many more straights into these games than gays."

Another surprise was that 80 percent of the straight men practicing S&M in the Bay Area are submissive rather than dominant, "and that runs counter to the theory that heterosexual men get into S&M so they can dominate women," Russell said.

We found that S & M doesn't have much to do with sexual gender but with the exertion of power — either people want to exert power over someone else or want someone to exert power over them," she said

Because the production was scheduled during the week when station ratings are given by the Nielsen Survey, the viewer-supported station learned yesterday that the show received a 5.6 rating, which means some 106,400 homes were watching, "and that's a good rating for us" she said. Usually, the programming of the station, which has 135,000 subscribers, has an average rating of 1 to 1.5.

Liberty & Justice For All!

The 1980 Gay Freedom Day Parade & Celebration

San Francisco

Friday 27 June

Start your Gay Freedom Day weekend with A Gay Musical Celebration at Grace Cathedral featuring the San Francisco Gay Freedom Day Marching Band & Twirling Corps, S.F. Gay Men's Chorus, S.F. Lesbian & Gay Men's Community Chorus, Lambda Pro Musica Symphony Orchestra, and the Great Organ of Grace Cathedral-8pm.

Saturday 28 June

Watch for details of special events to be announced.

Sunday 29 June

The Gay Freedom Day Parade starts at Market & Spear-11am. The Celebration will be held at Civic Center Plaza-Noon.

Following the Celebration-4pm Conceptual Entertainment's 2nd Annual Gay Day Tea Dance at the Galleria Design Center.

For more information call 415/ 641-0100

S&M is going public, and in the most influential way — on television.

Phil Bronstein and Lou DeCosta pro- duced a one-hour documentary, S&M, One Foot Out of the Closet, which was first aired on the West Coast in early February of this year. The program was broadcast by KQED, the Bay Area public television station. Although it received only routine pre-air publicity, it was seen by an estimated 106,400 viewers — a high percentage of single program viewers for non-commercial television. The station received a flood of phone calls, overwhelmingly favoritive, during and after the airing (See: Rave Response to S&M Program on Channel 9).

The program, for the first time in history, dealt objectively with sadomasochism. Both heterosexuals and gays were shown without bias or sensationalism . In fact, the program brought to light that there were more heterosexuals into S&M in the Bay Area than gays - a statistic the gay community found hard to believe.

For the next month or so, conversations in the S&M community centered on the fact that only in the gay segments of the program was any compassion and sensitivity shown in the slave-master relationship. A great deal of the heterosexual S&M seemed to be geared toward profit; with extensive coverage of professional women into dometrix roles, and estab- lishments that charged a fee from their clients (mostly male) to receive punishment , bondage, humiliation and pain from stables of leather-clad women.

The program noted that heterosexual S&M is, for the most part, invisible. Among gays, however, it was easier to find visible proof of S&M involvement referring to men who wear leather, keys, hankerchiefs, handcuffs, and the like, in public; and the large number of gay bars that cater almost exclusively to both leathermen and the S&M practitioner.

Bronstein and DeCosta researched their subject for six months, which is an amazingly short time considering the amount of mythology they were able to eradicate from the program.

It is easy to draw distinctions between the heterosexual and the homosexual portions of the program. There was an obvious air of sexuality to the gay scenes that was consistantly a missing factor in the non-gay sections. The same is true of

Don: How are you doing now, slave?

Jeff: Fine Sir, Thank you Sir for letting me lick your boots, Sir.

Don: You like that, don't you, slave?

Jeff: Yes Sir, very much, Sir.

Don: Spread your legs, slave. You like to take your master's pain, don't you, slave?

Jeff: Yes Sir, very much, Sir.

Don: It hurts being a slave, doesn't it?

Jeff: Yes Sir. emotional response. While we hear heterosexual men and women talking about 'feeling love' for their slaves, it remains auditory. The tenderness that balances S&M in gay relationships was both audible and visual.

The major gay segments of the program centered around a leatherman named Don – and in a few scenes – his slave, Jeff. The cameraman (Bob Friske) unreticently recorded without pandering. The privacy of a sexual experience between these two men maintained an intimacy despite the reality of the situation. This is very much in contrast to the heterosexual portions, where the viewer was constantly aware that certain acts, gestures, and postures were being staged for the camera.

In the following excerpt from the program's transcript, Bronstein, who narrated and appeared in the documentary, introduces a sado-masochistic scene be- tween Don and Jeff —

Bronstein: A scene can be a scenario as full of fantasy and role-playing as a film or play. This is part of a scene be- tween Don and his submissive, Jeff, with Don explaining what's happening.

Don: In this phase, he's basically pre- senting himself to me, offering himself as a slave; and I am, at least symbolically here, inspecting him and deciding whether or not I consider him worthwhile as a piece of property. This is very important to the scene, placing the slave collar around his neck which snaps into place with a lock. I've heard many slaves say that this - when they hear that click is the moment at which they really become a slave. (To Jeff) As long as you wear this collar, you belong to me. Say 'Sir.

Jeff: Sir, could I please finish licking the straps on your boots, Sir? I need it, Sir.

Don: The communication there … he was practically asking me to humiliate

KEY KEY WEST WES KEY WEST

only a few though, most of us got picked up at bars."

We never could see the neighbor, except slight glimpses of him because of the concrete wall. The man across the way, though, was easy to spot. He looked young, I'd say about my age — 25 then. And goodlooking. More goodlooking than hot. His chest was covered with that wiry, curly body hair that blonds have. It was thickly matted over his had picked a winner with him, that's for sure. The best part of him was his ass. It was like Rocco's, the kind of ass that has muscles as well developed as a weightlifter's arms. I momentarily wandered into thinking about him and that backside as he stood and walked away from the cell door. I couldn't help but wonder what it would taste like to put my face right up there into the crack between those solid, hard mounds.

Rocco pulled me back to reality, "Jamic, what the hell are we going to do?"

What indeed? "There's nothing we can do, Rocco, nothing at all. We're trapped here like the rest of them, all we can do is wait."

"We have to get in touch with Brendan, Jamie. He'll get us out."

"And how are we going to do that, send smoke signals?" The idea caught in our minds and we quickly communicated the thought, we looked around the room and groaned. The only furniture was a foam mat we had slept on. There was a toilet bowl, naked just like in a real jail cell. And that was all. The floors were covered with linoleum. There was nothing to

"What, Jamie? What are we going to do?"

Our answer was a loud slamming of the door. All the bodies in the row of cubicles rose to go to investigate the strange sound. Hans and the sadistic jailer both walked in, dragging a body between them. Another captive. Another blond, He was carried / pulled in front of our cell. "Back, assholes," the jailer growled ferociously. We jumped against the far wall as Hans and the other man opened the barred gate and threw the new man into our room.

"A very special specimen," Hans sneered once the weight was relieved. And there, right in front of us, sprawled the

My first thought was, 'Poor Mr. Benson has lost both of us,' My second was, 'What's that asshole doing here!'

Rocco had run up to the prone body and had cradled it in his arms. He gently slapped the face, trying to bring to consciousness the image that had driven millions of Americans to lung cancer. "Jamie, get some water from the toilet bowl." I didn't move. "Jamie!" Rocco ordered more forcibly when I stood fast.

"Rocco, I don't want to help him." I pointed an accusing finger at the motionless body.

"Jamie, this is no time for your antics. Now get some water." Rocco wasn't buying my act, I guess, and after a minute , I did go over and cupped some cold water in my joined hands, carrying it back over to the two of them. I let it run out of my palms, over his face. I enjoyed the sudden splash it made, and the way he had to almost throw up to keep from gagging.

"Jamie," Rocco said accusingly. "Well, you said," I responded.

By then the model was sitting up. The gleaming torso outlined by the moisture of sweat and water. The perfect muscles were stark in their relief. The light played with his body as complementarily as the cameras that had made it famous. I hated him.

He had stolen Mr. Benson from me.

His head protested the pain with an undistinguishable sound. He rubbed his own lump, just as Rocco and I had ours earlier. "Where am 1?"

"You're sure as hell not on Fifth Avenue," I spit out. He turned quickly to face me, and blushed, as well he might, when he saw me looking at him. "You." "You," I answered.

He moaned again and shakily stood up and looked at me. "How did you get here? You were supposed to be sent away."

"Don't I know it!" I screamed my response.

He looked at me not understanding the anger in my tone. "Didn't Mr. Benson send you away?" "You know he did," my voice almost broke as I screamed at him. "You know he did. He sent me away to take up with you. He kicked me savage, "you!" "That's not true," he defended himself. "Man, I saw you," Rocco softly interjected. "But," the man tried to explain, "that was a set-up, a trick being played on these guys."

Rocco looked as puzzled as I felt, "What do you mean by that," I finally asked.

"It was a ploy," he whispered, "to get me captured by the ring. I'm supposed to be investigating the disappearances. You two were supposed to be safely put away. What are you doing here?"

"Why you?" I challenged.

"I'm a cop. An undercover agent. It was set up for me to be captured because Mr. Benson and Brendan didn't want you harmed.'

A tear came to my eye. "You mean, you're not Mr. Benson's new slave?" "I'm a top," he said indignantly.

That I didn't believe. "You sucked my cock." I exclaimed. "That," he blushed, "That was a test. To see if I could pull off acting like a bottom. Just a test." His voice dropped off and he looked away.

"Pretty convincing if you ask me," I pressed. "You sure knew how to follow orders.

His face went even more scarlet. "Yeah. Well." He stammered, "Look, that's not the point." He regained his self-control . "The point is you two are supposed to be safe. Mr. Benson and Brendan wanted you carefully put away just so this wouldn't happen. What the hell am I supposed to do now?" "What were you going to do in the first place?" His look made it obvious he was debating answering Rocco's question. He made his mind up, "I'm wired for radio. He made his mind up, "I'm wired for they'll There's a transmitter in my body. When I activate it, they'll be able to trace me down. They know I'm somewhere in the

"Where is it?" I was curious.

He blushed again, "Just you never mind."

Suddenly our conversation was shut off by the loud sound

"But, what does it mean, Jamie? What are we here for?"

Almost in answer to his question, a heavy door opened and Hans, in full Topmen uniform, the Nazi patch on his sleeve catching the dim dawn with ominous clarity, walked in. A baton in his hand slapped against the steel bars of each cage as he made his way up the line until he was standing directly in front of ours,

"And well, my lovelies, how did you sleep?" He had a monacle in his eye, a caricature of his self-created image

"What are you doing to us?" Rocco cried out. "Why are we here?"

"You are here to fulfill your fondest and finest fantasies, you upstart twerp!" The baton hit the bars and made Rocco jump back a step. "You are here to be sold into slavery."

Hans turned to face his companion, a mean looking guy who could have fit central casting's definition of a hood. "This one will have to be dealt with very strictly. He had ideas that he is not really one of them. He occasionally thinks he is just ne is not really one of them. He occasionally thinks he is just playing sex games with the dingo lover of his. "But, the other," he gestured to me, "is the real thing. A born slave who will draw the highest price, I have n

The two of them walked away then, leaving us to listen to the sounds of the waking noises of the other inmates. "Rocco, we're in for it."

The others came too. They were obviously more used to the regimen of the place, and they were waiting for the food that was brought in my Hans' companion and a crony who was pushing a cart of something that produced great clouds of steam.

"On your knees by the bars, assholes." The ugly voice boomed out. "Open your yaps for food."

We watched silently, unbelievingly, as the pair made their way up the line of doors. At each a man, naked as we were, each more beautiful than the next, would kneel at the gate and open his mouth. The terrible-looking keeper would produce his enormous dick, slopily circumcised by an inept surgeon, and force the captive to suck on its huge width. Only when each had done that, did he get a plate of the steaming gruel that was carried on the cart.

They were all fair complected. Most were blond. Their bodies were universally beautiful. The bodies of Christopher Street clones that worked out in the gymnasiums. They almost all had moustaches and well developed chests. Each of them, I counted twenty four, including ourselves, looked like an advertisement for the All American Boy. Only Rocco's tattoos and my shaved crotch and chest made this seem anything less than the perfect group of American college students. Midwestern American college students at that.

What was this all about?

Finally, they arrived in front of our cage. "On your knees." The order was gruff and almost matter of fact. We didn't move. "You don't understand English? I said on your knees." The keeper's voice was raised, his heavy cock was waving in the air in front of us. "You don't get on your knees, you're getting the beating of your life."

"Hans told you not to harm me. I heard him." I was sud- denly grateful for the scars on my backside.

The giant in front of me leered, "But, he didn't say anything about your friend there, did he?" He produced a riding crop and it whooshed through the air, banging hard on the metal pole of the bar. "You don't suck my cock, big boy, and your friend here is going to taste leather like he never knew it tasted." The idea appealed to him obviously too much.

I thought quickly. I could - possibly - take more misuse. but not Rocco. He wasn't experienced in the ways of these animals the way that Mr. Benson and my recent adventures had made me. I sank to my knees in front of his foul smelling prick, ignoring Rocco's pleas, "Don't, Jamie."

But I took it in, almost heaving at the stench rising from the unwashed crotch. "You assholes all gotta learn to suck any time you're told." Growled the keeper.

Mercifully, he pulled away his cock and shoved a plastic dish under the cell door. "And you …" He looked at Rocco, offering his cock to my friend. "Suck it." Rocco looked, he hesitated. "Rocco, you need the food. Don't do anything toolish now."

Rocco, his tattooed ass undulating with those hard muscled flanks of his, dropped down and swallowed the unsightly dick.

The keeper was pleased with himself. "You suck cock to eat here. You don't, you don't eat, and you," he ran the tip of the crop over Rocco's quivering back, "get leather if either you or him give me any trouble." The voice plan on letting there be any from now until the end of the

Then we'd be free! We watched them walk back down the row of defeated men who silently ate the thick gruel with their hands. Rocco made a face at the mess in the plate in front of him and started to throw it. "No, Rocco, something tells me we might need the energy later. Eat it." We forced the slop down our throats. When we were done I went over to the wall and made a sound, asking for a response from the next inmate. Each cell was open only on the side facing the hall, the other three walls seemed to be made from concrete. "Hsss." I tried to get an answer. "Hsss."

"Don't, they can hear you outside." A voice finally whis- pered. "I'll be quiet. How long have you been here?" "A month. A month of hell, man. I'm scared shitless in "A month. A month of hell, man been fucked every which way but up every day since I been here."

"Fucked?"

"Yeah, they say they're stretching us. You'll see, later, they bring around these dildo like things and shove them up your ass. They say our new masters expect it to be easy to fuck us. Man, I'm stretched further than the Grand Canyon now. Do you know anything about what's going on?"

"Not really, just that a lot of men have been missing, and that they're all attractive."

"Well, they tell us we're here to get new 'masters' " The voice was insolent and I nearly said something, but decided this wasn't the time. "Shit, man, I've never had no 'master' at all. A month ago I just went out and thought I'd be a good lay, ya'know. So I went to a leather bar, ya'know? And the next thing I know this hot dude's hitting up on me and I think I'm going to go to nigger heaven. I go out to his van with him. And then … I wake up in this place sucking smelly cock and eating dirty assholes. Getting dildoes the size of your arm shoved up me and being told I'm going to be fuckin' sold."

They were white slavers, I suddenly realized that that must be the trip! That's why only blonds, only fair-haired guys, only the ones who were so good looking. We were going to be sold into white slavery!

A voice had come softly from across the way and made a statement that must have been obvious to our neighbor.

"Have you ever seen such a dick of life - or death - be- rhapsody went too far. hot and undressed. Then he lets you swing on this cock of his, it's huge, just huge and pretty and you don't know what you can do with it. Well anyway," the voice from across the hall tried to recapture himself. "He talks you into letting him fuck you, right there in the back of the van. He tells you he wants you to sit on it …"

"This happened to almost all of us," my neighbor ex- plains. "Yeah, well," the guy across from us went on, "You get up and squat down on that big fat cock of his and you start pumping away, and just when you know he's doing to come, just at the moment when you're ready to give it your all and you're there pumping away at yourself, someone, from somewhere comes out of the blue and knocks you cold." "We figured there was someone hiding up front of the van." The neighbor's voice adds.

"That's how most of us come here. Some, though, this German guy picked them up in the piers or the bushes. That's

bed. I was just glad to have welcome arms around me, comforting me after all I had been through. Rocco was more de- manding as he slid up and down the long prick.

Our kisses were deep and warm after what I had been through. Their welcome comfort enveloped me, as his arms easily carressed my sore back. "Give me your cock, Jamie," he moaned, Rocco's mouth doing as much to affect him as my emotions. I smiled in acknowledgement and rose up my body to deliver my shorn dick into his hairy opening. I laid on my side, letting him have his way with my suddenly hard cock, watching his pelvis with those fabulous thigh muscles pushing it, pump into Rocco's waiting and eager face. They fucked like that for the shortest time that could be possibly said to be sufficient for anything but a trick. Then, their bodies both contracted, their stomaches tensed and Rocco's face bobbed more quickly in time with his own fist flying on his own cock. Then … they spasmed together, each of their loads shooting off with necessary release.

I assured them that I was fine. My half hard cock didn't need any more than their friendship now. It felt so good to curl up between the two of them with our three sets of arms around one another. We were each so different, different looking, different acting, but we were each bound together in some special kind of knowledge. We were together in our lives.

We stayed there, cuddling, for a while, listening to the other voices in the long, narrow cell room. Finally I said, "When can you activate your message?"

The model, I had finally learned his name was Rick, said. "We have to wait until we know what the whole thing's about. You see, these guys haven't just recently been disappearing. They go in waves. There's some reason, some destination, and I have to find out what and where."

"You mean, we may have to stay here and put up with that smelly cock for a week?" Rocco was horrified.

"I'm afraid so. As much as I like you guys," he squeezed our shoulders into his own, "and as much as Mr. Benson and Brendan are going to be worried, I just can't let the whole thing go down the tubes. We have to know more about the operation.

Rocco and I moaned. The noisy door opened again at the end of the hall and the dark-haired model came up the pas- sageway, Hans trailing behind him.

"Abdul, of course you can test him. But he's such a fine specimen, you mustn't hurt him."

"I don't think I'll have to," the scented voice replied, his eyes having caught Rocco and I huddled up in Rick's arms. "Your man has already found a way."

"What?" asked Hans.

They were standing in front of us now. "There are two things, Klaus. First, he is supposed to be a bottom now, or so you say. And second, he obviously has made friends with his other Topmen slave friends. Very well," he turned sharply to Rick, "On your feet, slave. We are going to give you the thrill of your life. You are going to get to satisfy my prick." The dark haired man folded his arms over his chest and waited as Rick slowly got to his feet and went to the bars.

"Fuck you," he spit.

"Listen to me, you pale imitation of masculinity," the dark man sputtered back, "your tattooed friend is going to receive whatever punishment you or your scarred friend deserve while you're here. You had better remember th to your master that way.'

Rick looked at the weakening face of Rocco who had doubled over into the corner. He needed no explanation of Rocco's weakness. He looked at me, we shared the knowledge that it was time for a real bottom to take action. The blond man sunk to his feet, "Yes, master," he barely whispered. The moustached face smiled in victory. "Bring the three of them upstairs to my quarters, in full chains make sure that this is really a bottom and not some trick being played on us."

You want all three?" asked Hans,

"Of course, you frigid Germans wouldn't understand that a real man needs more than a single bottom to play with, and in this case, I need one to control with." Hans went stiff with anger, "Don't try to start anything, Herr Klaus. This is my show too. I want the three of them brought to me, now.

In another half hour, we were led out of the cell block, the jealous eyes of the other inmates followed us as we walked the hall and went through the door. When we left the original room we found ourselves in another nondescript area, again walled with concrete. Each of our necks was joined to the other by a heavy metal chain linking a collar around our neck. Our hands were manacled behind our backs and another link of the chain went down to our ankles. The lengths of metal were so short that our steps were limited to a shuffle.

We went down a set of stairs, then up another and soon found ourselves walking into a room that was furnished luxuriously , so much a contrast to the barren spaces we had walked through. There was a non-Western air to the space, there were no pieces of regular furniture, but rather large, opulent pillows strewn across the floor. The walls were hung with rich oriental carpets. There were round brass tables placed here and there. The scene was like one thing out of A Thousand Nights, and it dawned on me, Abdul was Arab! I looked at Rick's puzzled face and saw a kind of recognition come over him, too

And, at the same time we each stiffened. It became obvious to each of us - this was not a white slavery ring. This was the real thing. This was slavery.

Abdul sat in the midst of a large mound of pillows and sucked on a water pipe, three young, pretty - and, of course, - blond young men moved around him silently and kept their eyes averted from ours.

He had changed into a native costume, the many folds of cloth seeming strange after he had just appeared in Levis only moments ago. "You see me in my natural habitat." He smiled. His hands clapped almost soundlessly and there were sudden motions as two enormous Nubians, their ebony skin oiled to a bright glistening shine, stepped out from the shadows. Roc- co's knees quivered. "Get out," he bit off words to the jailers who had brought us here. "That one," Abdul pointed to Rocco, "put him on the horse.'

There was no reason or way to even try to resist as the two giants took Rocco out of the metal restraints and led him to the corner where there was a large leather covered device. They took his yielding limbs - poor Rocco, he could never have resisted those two - and stretched him against the cor-

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of the cell block door. Hans walked through, followed by the sadist and his helper, and behind them, the man who simply must have been the one the others were talking about. The model standing beside me went stiff with recognition. "Jesus Christ" escaped softly from his lips.

If the model was the perfect, living example of America's dream of a fair haired, blond specimen, the man who strutted down the walk with Hans was its equivilent dream of dark beauty. He was wearing only a pair of levis. The eyes that lined the walk were glued to him, and I suddenly realized that even if he was what had lured them to this horrible fate, still, everyone of them thought he was still the most perfect man they had seen.

And they weren't that far from wrong. He had a flawless body, just like the model's, and it was covered by a sculptured coating of black body hair. The trail of the dark fur led down into the levis that bulged promisingly in the crotch. His white teeth were awesomely bright in contrast to the face, whose rough texture promised the presence of a thick manly beard.

The foursome stopped in front of our cell. "Well," said

Hans, "I told you so." "Yes, it certainly is him, isn't it?" The new man smiled through a bushy moustache. And then I knew, I had seen him, Him. Of all people! The second most famous cigarette model in the country. The one sending as many people off to the shores of Turkey as my unwelcome companion sent off to the ranges of the West.

Rocco and I exchanged blank expressions. It was incredible. But it was true, here in front of us stood the two most well known male models in America. The blond cowboy and the dark exotic. They stood facing one another. The blond glared, the other smiled softly.

"This has turned out to be a very advantageous contract, Herr Klaus," the dark man said to Hans with a vaguely foreign accent. "Very advantageous indeed."

"Yes, Abdul, now you'll be able to control the whole thing yourself, won't you? You can get both contracts." "Both." He said the words slowly. "But, how did you capture him?"

"It was quite interesting actually." Hans started to explain. "After I rounded up these two," he pointed at us, "I became intrigued. Why were they on the loose? Mr. Benson, my colleague ," I grated at the way he said that, "is not one to let his slave — the one with the marks — go around free in the city. In fact, I'm sure he's been kept at home for weeks at a time. His presence at the wharf made me think that perhaps there would be something interesting to see at the clubhouse.

"I went down there to check it out. You can imagine my surprise when I found this handsome specimen bound and gagged at Mr. Benson's feet," Hans' crop came out and flicked the blond model's tit. "I had to wait to see what developed. And that was his expulsion." Hans laughed. " undid the gag and loosened the restraints at one time and this one attempted to tell the famous Mr. Benson off. "We were all quite incredulous. Even the stupid members of the club don't say to Mr. Benson what this fool said. And, of course, he was immediately thrown out. I could hardly let such a specimen go, now could I?"

They all smiled at one another. "So I followed him and lured him into my car, where Lugar," he nodded to the sadistic keeper, was conveniently hidden in the back seat. The rest is obvious.

"You say that this one was Mr. Benson's slave?" Hans nodded in answer to the other model's question. "That's strange," he said, thoughtfully, "I always heard he was a top, himself. Now you say he was a slave." "These Americans," Hans said, disgustedly, "They're always into their macho trip, thinking that they have to cover the true desires of their wretched souls."

Hans walked away, the rest followed quickly, but the model lingered, ever so slightly, staring into the cell at the three of us. His departure was a signal to let us all breathe a little more easily.

'What if they test you?" Rocco asked.

"Yeah, what if they try to see if you can get it up?" "That's why Mr. Benson put me through those motions," the blond said. But his tone was unconvincing.

"What do you mean?" "Well," the model tried to regain his composure, "Mr. Benson thought that if I could fool Jamie, and make him believe I got off on being a bottom … well, I could fool any- one." He tried to make his explanation complete. "And you did fool even me," I added.

"Right." The blond's answer was too quick and satisfied. He started to walk away, as though his motion would change the subject. I looked at Rocco, a smile started to unfold on his face, making me break into loud, uncontrollable guffaws that hurt my bruised back with their quick, jerky motion. It suddenly became clear to us. The epitome of American man- hood swiveled around and looked at us with this blank expression on his face that was soon covered by a growing tide of red color that spread across his face and down his naked chest. "Okay, fellas, okay." He knew that we knew! The flush deepened and then, slowly a smile appeared on his own expression nad he started a slight, ever so slight giggle. "No one, but no one, could fool Jamie about being a bottom," Rocco spit the words out between the louder laughs.

"I know," the voice seemed so small for such a big man. "I know, Jesus, though, I never knew it could be like that. Kneeling and having someone standing over you." His voice was more solemn. "It was a revelation." He regained himself still once more. "Well, guys, let's just say th rest of the men in the club, little ole Nellie here," he lifted his flaccid tool, "just rises to attention."

We looked down to see that fabled cock slowly rise up, fill-

That might have been the only white man's cock that Rocco couldn't resist. Few could. It was molded to perfection. Its veins stood out from the shaft as the prick grew in dimension , the deep red head engorged into a perfect plum shape. Rocco's eyes started to glaze over at the sight. I remembered Mr. Benson's even more perfect penis and was content to just feel a closeness to this man who understood Mr. Benson's power. He and I embraced tightly, I'm sure he knew why. And as our arms went softly around one another, I felt the hair on the top of Rocco's head push between my legs and heard him slurping up that rigid pole.

The three of us fell back on the foam pad that passed for a

ners where they fastened his wrists and ankles again.

"Let me be very clear," Abdul started talking again, "Your friend is in no great pain, I assure you. His position involves no stress, and his seating is better and more comfortable than your cell, however, all I need do is raise my hand," he flicked his wrist up to show us, "and he will be beaten." A loud, bestial cry came from Rocco's corner as one of the Nubians stood holding a menacing, many pronged whip that had obviously just visited Rocco's backside.

"You, you will obey my every order, or he will be beaten," the wrist flicked again and Rocco's screams filled the room again to underline the point. I knew Rocco couldn't take much of this. I had to act, I strode across to where Abdul sat, dragging Rick in the clanking chains and knelt before him, the joining chain forcing a not very willing Rick down on his own knees.

"We understand, sir." My head was bowed as I spoke. I heard a muffled assent from Rick right after I had finished. He, also, must have realized Rocco's plight. I was thankful for Mr. Benson's having trained him enough to know that he should take a position of subservience right now. Not try anything foolish. "I am very pleased," the foreign accent clipped off the words. "I want nothing more than decent, hard working slaves for my pleasure, … and for the market place. There is no reason to destroy that one in the corner, even if he is un- fortunately marked. But you two," a long tongued fly swatter came out and brushed my head, "you two are such fine examples of Americana, that you must be held in reserve for the finest of customers.'

"You may look up at me." I couldn't really see Rick's motions, but took the absence of punishment as a sign he was going through with it.

"Most of my friends, as I, appreciate the gentle beauty of fair haired younger boys." Smiling, he grabbed one of the young men who had been in the room before we arrived. The kid only had a loincloth to cover his nakedness. He was the kind of blond whose hair is unnaturally light, and whose skin bronzes with tan. His blue eyes shone out from the light brown skin. "But all of us appreciate, as well, the symbol of training as well learned as yours is supposed to be," the fly swatter again brushed against my head. "And none would deny the satisfaction a man feels when he knows that he holds one of the very symbols of American manhood in his power," the swatter disapperaed from my view, I'm sure it must have been showing Rick his special place in the universe.

Abdul turned from us and called the three young things over to him. "These new slaves have been kept in the dungeon with the animals. You must make them presentable for household work. I want each of them cleaned up and the one with scars taken care of. The one in the corner … ignore.'

"Follow these three, they will take care of you," Abdul said, and then suddenly warned, "Do not try anything foolish, or your friend will pay." And again the wrist flicked and

Rocco's scream filled the air.

Rick and I were unshackled and led behind the screen to another room, bathroom, with a huge circular tub in the center. The three men refused to talk to us, to even look in our eyes. "Rick, what does this mean? Why did he pull us out of the dungeon?"

"Just like Mr. Benson thought they would, they're testing me, seeing if I really can act like a bottom, Jamie." "There's no test, Rick, I mean, don't they know that you're doing all this for Rocco?"

"No, Jamie, they're not just seeing if you and I will follow orders. They're checking out our attitude. I'm sure glad you're along, kid."

"You are?

The three led us mutely to the pool and into the warm, luxurious water. We didn't speak until they were again away from hearing range.

'Sure I'm glad, Jamie. I never would have been able to get even this far. I would have stayed there and just waited for orders, that's not what they want, they want a slave's attitude, like when you went and knelt, and made me follow. That was perfect, Jamie, and it probably saved our skins." I was very thankful for all Mr. Benson's training at that moment. I sunk into the bubbling water and tried to think, how can we ever get out of this?

To Be Continued

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PLEASE SEND ME ____ BOTTLE(S) OF CRYPT TONIGHT

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H OUTH OF LARKET

GATHERING PLACES

BUNDERS GUIDE TO WHERE THE ACTION IS 16

All photos in this section by JIM MOSS except where otherwise noted.

FOLSOM as much a state of mind as it is a place. Also known as South of Market, it is a sprawling industrial area south of San Francisco's main street, one of the few flat places in a city of steep hills, that leathermen each evening turn into the world's capital of gay S&M. More wild, freaky and far out things happen here than anywhere else on the globe.

In appearance it is very much like New York City's SoHo section with its factories and warehouses. But at night the trucks and forklifts are replaced by motorcycles and jeeps, the blue collar workers go home and are replaced by thousands of hot and horny men in leather out for a night on the prowl. Its transformation is complete and dramatic. It is truely a neighborhood with a split personality, one by day and a very different one by night.

The vast majority of leathermen who nightly visit Folsom in search of "consensual grossness," as Time Magazine calls it, live elsewhere in the city or are visitors from out of town. A few residential buildings exist on backwater alleys, and they are mostly occupied by the leathermen who work in the gay bars and clubs. South of Market bars are not your local-corner variety, but draw their clientel of hot studs from all over the world. Although no business has a "dress code" that requires you wear leather, if you want to enjoy yourself, you should heed the old saying, "When in Rome, do as the Romans do." Virtually everyone owns a pair of levis and a T-shirt — wear them - do not come down to South of Market in a suit with a tie or a fuzzy sweater and sneakers. There is a first time for everyone — and if you have never been to a leater bar before, make it a fun experience for you and your hosts by dressing and acting appropriately. Also, leave your fag hag girl friend behind. Many of the cars do not have a ladies room at all; and most of the private clubs bar admission to women altogether. Only the restaurants, shops and a few of the dance places encourage patronage by women. For the most part, Folsom is a men-only environment that gets too raunchy for female company.

A quick glance at the map in this section confirms why this area commands such an exhaustive treatment as we are giving it. As only one of five gay neighborhoods in San Fran-giving it. As only one of me gay heighnorhous in Jaal Frain- cisco, it alone boasts more gay bars, restaurants, clubs, baths, hotels and shops than the cities of Chicago and Philadelphia combined. And the variety is indeed been zoned by the city fathers for all-night businesses such as baths, afterhours sex clubs, all-night discos and 24-hour restaurants.

Arc, our cover man for this issue, symbolizes South of Market's two personalities. By day, Arc works in a warehouse on Folsom, as he appears on the cover. By night he dons his finest leather, above, and can be found at one of Folsom's bars or clubs.

Photographed at the Watering Hole, clothing by A Taste of Leather.

If you are a first-time visitor to Folsom, the number of choices is so staggering it can be overwhelming. A good way to begin is by picking out one of the bars listed in this section, going to it and striking up a conversation with the bartender. (Sgart out early so he won't be so busy he can't talk.) All the bartenders South of Market are informal tour guides. Tell him what you are looking for and he'll gladly direct you to the right spot. Such referals are the rule South of Market as each business is unique and satisfies a different fantasy. There is no bitchy competition among Folsom businesses. Also, there is nothing you can ask a Folsom bartender that will embarrass him, he's already heard it all, tried most of it, and probably likes it, himself.

Almost all the places are within a short walk or at most a $2 cab ride of each other. The streets are remarkably safe at night even for a lone traveler, as there is a constant stream of traffic from one place to another. Bar hopping is a big part of the fun. Street sex is frowned upon, and there is virtually no street hustling South of Market. All the men are there because they want to be there - and they want you there, too. So get your ass South of Market, and when that hulking, macho man

CELEBRATING DRUMMER'S 5TH ANNIVERSARY AND GAY PRIDE WEEK IN ONE GIANT BASH. HOT MEN IN COMPETITION FOR THOUSANDS OF DOLLARS IN PRIZES, THURSDAY, JUNE 26 FROM 9 PM UNTIL DAWN. CONTESTANTS CONTACT DRUMMER. HOT DAMN!

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(415) 495-6620 S.F. 94107

Advance General Admission $7,50 at TROCADERO or DRUMMER, 15 Harriet St. /864-3456

THE TRENCH This establishment's special evenings have made it the most popular small bar South of Market. For example, Tuesday is "Uncut Night." If you are one of the rare ones who escaped the knife at birth, the Trench's pecker in- spector will give you a button to proclaim this fact. Wearing the button on Tuesday guarantees you popularity at this bar. The bar also sells "Uncut" T-shirts and tank tops which are worn proudly by this set - it pays to advertise, you know

Monday is yellow hanky night, and is just as popular as Tuesday but with a different crowd. Thursday is red hanky night and draws its own group of faithful. Prizes are given out on Tuesdays and Thursdays.

The Trench is a full liquor service bar that opens daily at noon, making it one of the few places you can get a cocktail during the daytime. Its location also makes it the first bar you hit as you walk south from Market toward Folsom

The decor is military, war sur- plus materials and World War Two posters covering every square inch. It is friendly and popular among the regulars South of Market.

SPURS Our newest neighbor on Valencia has recently had its grand opening, broadening the list of hot spots to hit in the South of Market scene. Spurs is well appointed, with a clean southwestern hacienda atmosphere. You'll find great music, pool tables & pinball as well as a large screen TV featuring major events, flicks & pix. If you want to rope yourself a cowboy, Spurs is a must on your trail. 298 Valencia at 14th Street.

THE ARENA

Second to no bar South of Market, The Arena is one of the most popular bars in the area. The hot throbbing music, and equally hot throbbing bartenders, have made this one of the most exciting scenes around for the leatherman who wants to get in on the action. With full liquor service, The Arena has a large front bar and a rear game room with pooltable.

The crowd is strictly leather - this is no place for pussy cats or the weak of nerve. This is not to say that the place is unfriendly at all, If you want to find out what it's all about, why South of Market is what it is, this is a great place to take instructions. The staff of The Arena will be happy to pass on information as to where to go and what's on the agenda as they are very involved in the South of Market community and are always 'on top" of things, so to speak.

One of the most attractive bars South of Market, The Arena is a favorite drinking spot for the staff of neighboring bars. It is an excellent place to meet the men who work and play in the area and is another "must see" for the leather-man visitor to San Francisco. One of the bartenders is a former Mr. America and has become a tourist attraction all by himself.

THE AMBUSH is unique in the world. A one-of-a-kind beer and wine bar with the most mellow atmosphere imaginable. Universally loved by all South of Market leathermen, it does a brisk business from the time it opens its doors each morning at 11:30 until it closes at 2 AM – a claim that can be made by no other bar (even those with full liquor service). A favorita harmout of the level can favorite hang-out of the local, gay artistic community, The Ambush has mounted more art shows for gay artists than any other business (bar or otherwise) in the world. The art shows change each month and usually feature the work of a single individual. Many of the leathermen who illustrate the pages of Drummer can be found there

The musical programming deserves special note - the "Bush" as it is known by its regulars has always been a trendsetting bar when it comes to music. Also, for those who find cigarette smoke a nuisance, special negative ion generators hanging from the ceiling keep the air relatively smoke-free.

THE HEADQUARTERS goes heavy 24 hours a day (no beer and wine from 2 AM to 6 AM, however). As the area's only 'round the clock leather bar, it really starts to rock after the other bars close and is one of the wildest assortments of people in the world at 6 AM - loud music, tambourines bashing away, the regulars at the Headquarters do not believe that the party ever has to end.

Hidden away on a little alley, the Headquarters has in the short time that it has been open already become an extremely popular bar South of Market. The bar has a restaurant, more about that later.

HIHRINGPHAHES

THE RBIG is as heavy as you can get. Saturday night is a sea of black leather, the scent of cowhide hanging in the air. On two levels with full liquor service, The Brig is a favorite of German tourists as well as San Francisco's most dedicated leathermen. Always popular even before it was christened The Brig, this location has a long history and is a major part of the Folsom legend. (It was formerly The Bolt and The No Name.) Its current status in the pecking order of leather bars must place it close to the top for such places world-wide. Internationally famous, it is a "must see" for anyone visiting Folsom.

Its location places it as near to the center of the action as you can get - The Brig is at ground zero. Also, Mr. S Products, about which more will be said later, maintains a small second shop (their "suburban store") inside The Brig for the con-vience of its customers. The Brig invites the patronage of serious leathermen and will be happy to direct visitors to places of interest in the neighborhood. However, once you've gotten as far as The Brig, you may not want to venture any further.

RAMROD One of the original leather bars on Folsom Street, the Ramrod is a full liquor service bar with lots of extras to entice you in.

The Ramrod is probably most famous, however, for its movies. If you are willing to deal with standing room only in a room full of hot men, you can at no charge see some of Hollywood's finest. Show-times are: Monday and Wednesday at 9 PM; Saturday at 3 PM; and Sunday at 3 and 9 PM. At all other times, closed circuit gay video tapes will amuse and arouse you.

For the convenience of you bikers , the Ramrod also has a second closed circuit video system so you can keep your eye on your machine by remote hook-up. A camera outside is focused on the bike parking area and fed to TV monitors around the bar.

Definitely a hold-over from previous decades, however, is the boot-black stand where you can get a spit shine. The boot-black, incidentally , works for tips.

THE WATERING HOLE starts earlier than any bar South of Market. Opening daily at 6 AM, with full liquor, it quickly fills up and stays full for the duration. A large, horseshoe shaped bar, makes for easy cruising and in one corner a big screen video projector ani- mates the room with some of the hottest gay video you've ever seen - who needs to spend $5 at the movies when there is The Watering Hole?

On Sunday evenings at 7 PM, The Watering Hole has a special chicken dinner for the bargain price of $1.25. Also, the bar is one of the favorites of the organized bike clubs whose banners and emblems decorate the walls, For those who want to do some day- time shopping South of Market, The Watering Hole is located right between Mr. S. and A Taste of Leather and is a great place to hit for an afternoon pick-me-up, or for that matter to get picked up by one of the hot men who regularly drink here.

The bar has a rear game room with pooltable, a fire place and a rustic Western decor.

THE ASYLUM One of the newest bars South of Market, the Asylum has beer and wine in a relaxed atmosphere. In size, it is one of the largest bars South of Market.

Tucked away on a little alley and in the shadow of the freeway, the Asylum takes some hunting to find but is worth the excursion. A second story restaurant features home cooking with a soul food flavor. It is perfect for lunch or dinner before hitting the bars and clubs. Brunch is served on weekends .

South of Market is the center of New Wave and Rock & Roll. As you walk down the street, you'll hear the wildest rock music drifting out of industrial spaces where all the city's bands rehearse. Again, the small residential population makes this the only part of town where a band can really cut loose during practice and let every decible hang out without deafening the neighbors. Punk Rockers, dressed in full leather with purple and green hair, are often seen in the leather bars as many of them are gay and into the S&M scene. As a helpful hint, punkers with purple hair are quick to react to insults about their appearance with violence. They are definitely not pussycats. So watch your mouth.

TROCADERO TRANSFER San Francisco's first membership disco to go after hours, the Troc continues to rock. Dick Collier's incredible club has created a veritable legend with its parties, award winning floats in the Gay Day parade and a high level of participation with the gay community.

There is always something new and exciting coming out of the Trocadero Transfer. Just to list the performers who have entertained from the stage would fill an entire page of the magazine. The likes of Grace Jones, Sylvester, Thelma Houston, Destination, Bob McGilpin, Natalie Cole, and Patti Brooks. Many songs that have gone on to become gold record hits were played for a dancing audience for the first time at Trocadero Transfer. Some sort of delightful surprise awaits you any evening you visit. As a membership club, you can gain admission if you are a tourist by showing an out-of-town ID.

But the main thing at a disco is the music, and the Trocadero Transfer is proud that its DJ Bobby Viteritti won the highly coveted DJ of the Nation from Billboard Magazine, the country's leading music publication.

Trocadero Transfer will soon be offering a full-liquor service bar.

Top: The White Party at Trocadero Transfer is an annual event that has turned into something of a social occasion. Right: the dance floor of Trocadero Transfer which vibrates with the base beat of the music.

GATTHERING PLACES MUSIC

STUD Always way ahead of everyone else when it comes to musical trends, The Stud's Monday night New Wave is a phenomenon that boggles the mind. It is the busiest night of the week at a very busy bar. Be prepared to have to stand in line on a Monday! The inspiration behind Monday New Wave is Larry LaRue – the most famous DJ on the West Coast. He has recently been written up in Billboard, New West, The Bay Guardian and many other music and entertainment magazines. The New Wave mixture has caused the Stud to become the neighborhood melting pot. On any given night you'll see men in leather, punks with pink hair and even women. But the mix works fabulously and The Stud remains one of the dominant dance bars in a city famous for its discos and clubs. The Stud's high success by being the first disco in the West to incorporate Rock and Roll and New Wave music into a dance for- mat has resulted in it being highly imitated already. But there is no substitute for the original concept and they've got it down pat. The Stud offers full liquor and the largest rectangle bar on Folsom. No cover ever, but have ID.

THE ENDUP Very popular with a clean-cut and younger crowd. the Endup is one of the four places you can dance South of Market. A large complex of rooms, it has a fabulous patio with a fire pit that is a great place to escape the music and cool off on warm summer evenings.

On alternate Sundays, the End- up sponsors jock strap dance contests with cash prizes that brings out some of the hottest young men you have ever seen. When they get up on the stage and do their thing, the audience just goes wild. The natives can get restless South of Market.

Another special plus for the Endup is that it opens at 6 AM on Saturday and Sunday mornings. When the after hours dance clubs in the neighborhood close, the hearty who don't want the party to end come to dance at the Endup. It is something to experience — wild disco dancing with hundreds of people on the floor, as the sun rises over the city.

Below: Larry LaRue, the new wave DJ from the Stud, was the first person to incorporate Rock and Roll and advanced new wave rock into a successful disco format. For this, he has become the most publicized DJ in the West.

DREAMLAND The largest disco in San Francisco is South of Mar- ket. Dreamland is a favorite among the macho males who like to dance there are more muscles on the dance floor on a Saturday Night than you'll find at a Mr. Universe contest. And they love to show them, too, as most strip to the waist. Dreamland is a membership club ($55 a year). Non-members are admitted, but you do have to pay at the door and it is on a space available basis. available basis.

Dreamland features one of the finest sound systems anywhere. Built by Graebar Sound of NYC (which also did Trocadero Transfer's system) it is a true pleasure to listen to – no distortion even at very high volume.

Parties are a real treat here, and in the short time they have been open, they have demonstrated a talent for their special events. One of the things that makes Dreamland particularly exciting is that it is open after hours. Dance 'til dawn!

One of the performers you are likely to see at Dreamland is Sylvester, who makes his home in San Francisco, Sylvester got his start on Folsom at the Stud and often performs at special parties at Dreamland and Trocadero Transfer. There is nothing second rate about entertainment South of Market.

क्षेत्र भारति । शिक्ष

Some of the encounter establishments South of Market offer mind-boggling fantasy rooms complete with stockades, slings, mirrors, operating room tables, assorted gadgets and devices designed to fulfill the most esoteric of tastes. If you have a fantasy, no matter how wild or unusual, one of the clubs has a special spot for you. No place caters to a wide variety of trips, each having specialized; so it is best to call ahead. If you arrive early, most of the clubs will give you a quick tour so you can pick out your room, stall or bathtub for the evening.

Membership is required by law for such establishments as they are not open to the general public; however, the fee is often nominal. With some clubs, "visitor memberships" of short duration are available at a significant discount. All remain open after 2 AM, bar closing time in San Francisco; and many will allow you to bring in alcohol. So when you hear last call, get a six pack of Bud to go and head for one of the encounter places. Who said the party has to stop?

SUTRO BATHHOUSE Easily one of the most unusual places in the world, the Sutro Bathhouse is a co-ed establishment - that's right, naked women in the showers with men! A private membership club, the Sutro is popular with South of Market's bi-sexual and lesbian community as well as a number of gays who have a sense of adventure and a vision of what the sexual future will be.

Each night of the week has a different program, as follows: Sunday, women only; Monday, co-ed, women members free; Tuesday, bi-sexual night; Wednesday, Couples only, women members free; Thursday, co-ed, women members free; Friday, Hot and Nasty Night; Saturday, couples only, women members free.

About a third of the clientel of the Sutro is female, the other two thirds being straight, bi and gay men of about equal proportions. For the gay man who digs getting it on with a 'straight' man, this place is paradise. Also, group scenes of mixed sexes are common and a turn on to many gay men.

The facility is fabulous. A huge skylight slides back during the day for nude sunbathing, and closes at night to create a covered dance floor. Big screen TV and a coffee shop as well as professional masseurs and other special trips make this place the nation's finest and most far out exponent of sexual freedom and innovation. Not for everyone, but definitely something special for the right person.

FOLSOM

A TASTE OF F LEATHER FOR ADULTS

64 PAGE CATALOG DRAWINGS BY REX A TASTE OF LEATHER 960 FOLSOM STREET SAN FRANCISCO 94107 (415) 777-4643 MONDAY - SATURDAY & HOLIDAYS NOON - 6 SUNDAYS 2 - 6 ALL MAJOR CREDIT CARDS HONORED

CATALOG $3

GATHERING PLACES

GLORY HOLES BALLROOM: The city's newest private club serving the South of Market man. Special effort has been made to attract the leatherman into S&M: the owners have created jail cells, slings and other unusual spots. On a ground floor plus the biggest basement in town, there is one unforgettable spot that is directly under the sidewalk. Here, you can do it while you hear people walking down Sixth Street and see their vague images through opaque glass set into the sidewalk. Talk about a wild trip.

GET TOGETHER WHEN GOOD MEN

It's about time that we had a club of our own. And not just a club, but the kind of place that the fun-seeking sensualist in you has been searching for. There are a lot of things you could join - Discos, Encounter Clubs, Glory-Hole Clubs the DRUMMER KEY CLUB is none of these. We have taken the concept of a place where OUR people can enjoy themselves: well-run , friendly, exciting and inexpensive and come up with a concept you can't resist.

Memberships in many places can cost you anywhere from a few to thousands of dollars and about all you get is the privilege of paying five to fifteen dollars at the door for admission. People like to associate with their own kind and are usually charged considerable for that right. Ours is a different concept. We are expanding the Leather Fraternity, including all its privileges and benefits, and

FOR THE MACHO MALE adding a great new Club to use, Our first will be in San Francisco, where we are. Cost stays the same - $50 - which is less than most Disco memberships. What do you get for fifty bucks?

□ DRUMMER SUBSCRIPTION. Twelve issues of the hottest magazine around. If you already subscribe , we'll add a year to your present subscription. That's $30 worth right there. Pick up your free copy of DRUMMER at the club or we'll mail it to you. CLASSIFIED ADS. Twelve inserts in DRUMMER no less.

MAIL BOX AND FORWARD-ING SERVICE, No charge for forwarding your mail to your box number.

□ LEATHER FRATERNITY MEMBERSHIP with full privileges.

YOUR DRUMMER CLUB KEY with full guest privileges.

☐ THE DRUMMER KEY CLUB will be open this summer in the Heart of the Folsom-South of Market area.

☐ YOUR CREDIT CARDS - VISA and MASTERCHARGE are welcome, Limited Check Cashing with your membership, No hassle, just fun among Gentlemen.

Enjoy the DRUMMER KEY CLUB and all its benefits and make this coming year one to remember. Now, more than ever, you should have a Leather Fraternity membership and DRUMMER CLUB key.

Hurry! Charter memberships at this price must be limited. Get your ass in gear.

CHARTER LEATHER FRATERNITY MEMBERSHIPS SUBSCRIPTION, ADS, BOX / MAIL SERVICE & KEY!

FIFTEEN HARRIET, SAN FRANCISCO, CALIFORNIA 94103

I'm ready! I want a Charter Membership in the Leather Fraternity, including a complimentary subscription to Drummer, 12 free ads, all the LF benefits, and admission to the Drummer Club in San Francisco. I have enclosed my one-year fee of $50. I am over 21 years of age.

Uhrari

FOOD&FUN

Eating out South of Market can be an unforgetable experience; often, you, yourself, end up being the desert. The choices of where to eat presents the hungry leatherman with a wide selection. For a quick meal, many of the b maintain second floor coffeeshops. Free buffets and special parties with food are not uncommon. Among the regular eating establishments, prices range from the least expensive in the city to full-scale, multi-course dinners. The atmosphere is as widely varied as the prices - from classical railroad diners to crystal elegance.

All the places serving food South of Market offer at least beer and wine, and many have full-liquor bars. Some are open in the daytime only, others at night, and some never close at all. The establishments listed here are gay and welcome leathermen. The food establishments are often integrated, serving men and women. Only a few have exclusively male clientel.

THE AMBUSH UPSTAIRS A true serendipity occurs when you discover the upstairs coffee shop at the Ambush. Inexpensive sandwiches, soups and salads as well as pastries from Just Desserts served in a masculine atmosphere. Located directly above one of the most popular bars in the city, the coffee shop is a quiet oasis where you can have a cup of coffee and conversation. A perfect place to get to know more about the man you just met downstairs.

The Ambush often throws special parties that the coffee shop caters. These are always as delightful to the eye as they are to the palate.

Above and Left: Valentine's Day was the occasion for these phtos taken at the Ambush. A hot man wrapped in Saran Wrap was the centerpiece of the buffet served up to hundreds of hungry men.

FOOD&FUN

LITTLE MICHELLE'S South of Market's newest and largest restaurant is under construction as we go to press and due to open just as the magazine comes out. This will be a fabulous addition to the many places to eat that the leather-man can choose from in Folsom. We were especially impressed by the huge skylight that runs the full length of the dining area giving an outdoor patio feeling. The restaurant will feature Viet- namese and French cooking in the most authentic style. There will be espresso and other Italian coffees for those who want to spend a lazy afternoon with a friend sipping cafe and wine. First-time visitors are due for a delightful surprise.

Primo!

BROWN'S PUB Another new restaurant that is on the verge of opening its doors to the public just as we go to press. We toured its interior and were highly impressed . Decorated with Victorian funk, it is a fabulously decadent atmosphere that is sure to be popular with the European tourists that occupy the hotel upstairs.

Among the unique features of this restaurant are two smaller dining rooms off the main eating area. One is for couples only and has tables for two in a charming nook. The other is a private dining room with elegant china settings, crystal and all the trimmings for that very special party or evening — got a birthday coming?

THE HEADQUARTERS This place is as much a restaurant as it is a bar. Featuring as fine a pizza as you will find in San Francisco at prices that make it one of the best brices that make it one of the best bargains going. The Headquarters is perfect for that quick, inexpensive meal or snack. Also, food is served 24 hours a day — making it a unique meeting place South of Market. All baking cookies and, of course, the pizza. Beer and wine is served until 2 AM daily, then soft drinks and coffee until 6 AM. Sunday brunch with Champagne is one of the best deals in town at $4.

A Private Club 1010 Bryant Street

San Francisco (415) 861-9486

CANARY ISLAND South of Market's gay diner. This place is a classic - a traditional railroad dining car converted into a coffee shop. Open from early morning 'til late in the evening, Canary Island is a favorite of the locals. With only 17 seats inside, Canary Island has a large patio that is very cruisy during the day time.

This is where the staff of many of the local bars and clubs eat; so if you want to rub elbows with the boys from The Ambush and The Arena, which are right next door, head for here

Very popular for Sunday Brunch, Canary Island also has daily dinner specials including soup, salad and main course for under $5. This place does not think of itself as tourist oriented — it is the authentic South of Market hangout for the local residents. Beer and Wine are served. A perfect place to eat for those who are on a limited budget.

Service is prompt and friendly. And for those who just want a cup of coffee, there is always a stack of magazines and daily newspapers to read and pass the hours.

ALVIN'S If any of our South of Market bars typifies the broad diversity of men who frequent the area, Alvin's does. Located in an area where the rich Financial District ebbs into Folsom, you'll find both sharp young executive types and hunky western and Levi men. Alvin's has recently celebrated their second anniversary as a relaxing, refreshing and friendly place to have a drink in the afternoon, or anytime. Alvin's is a favorite luncheon spot, too. They feature sandwiches, a hot daily special, and their hot chili is known throughout the area. Alvin's is moderately priced and reservations are suggested. Between the great music, imaginative luncheons, and hot men - Alvin's has something for everyone. 83 First Street near Market.

11 / 14 6 / 11

THE ASYLUM This bar has a second floor restaurant that it calls a "devinely decadent steak house." Southern style cooking is guaranteed to please the fan of soul food. The Asylum serves lunch daily, brunch on Sundays and dinces nightly. The source is removed. daily, brunch on Sanday, and mer nightly. The service is prompt and friendly — no reservations are needed. And when you have finished your meal, you are only a taken a way from the largest staircase away from the largest beer and wine bar South of Market.

THE FICKLE FOX For the romanticist who relishes an elegant atmosphere with a French country setting, the Fickle Fox is for you. It is where the leatherman can enjoy a candlelit dinner accented by a charming display of accoutre-by a charming uspray or accounterments, low ceilings and mirrors. Adjacent to the South of Market area on Valencia, the Fickle Fox offers a variety of dishes ranging from lamb and yeal specialities, to Irom lamb and veal specialities, to steaks, chicken and seafood. In ad- dition to the entrees, two nightly specials are featured, served with both soup and salad. Dinner is served nightly from 6 PM, Satur- day lunch from 1

Copyright 1980 by Alternate Publishing. All rights reserved.

0 LITTLE MICHELLE'S: 64 Rausch Street

HOTHIS

0 ANXIOUS ARMS: 964 Howard Street

0 BROWN'S: 1190 Folsom Street

0 BUNK HOUSE: 38 Washburn Street

ELDORADO HOTEL: 150 Ninth Street 0

R&R

BOOT CAMP*: 1010 Bryant Street

CLUB BATHS SAN FRANCISCO: 330 Ritch Street

CORN HOLES: Folsom near 9th Street

FOLSOM STREET WAREHOUSE THEATRE: 280 Seventh 10

GLORY HOLES BALLROOM: 224 Sixth Street

HANDBALL EXPRESS: 975 Harrison Street

HOT HOUSE: 376 Fifth Street

SLOT: 979 Folsom Street

SOUTH OF MARKET CLUB: 225 Sixth Street

0 SUTRO BATHHOUSE: 1015 Folsom Street

(4!(1)!8)

AMBUSH SHOP*: 1531 Harrison Street 0

BECKNELL & HAMPTON: 1415 Folsom Street

CAKE GALLERY: 290 Ninth Street

0000000 FOLSOM STREET MAN: 1258 Folsom Street

LABYRIS AUTO REPAIR: 240 Sixth Street

MR. S PRODUCTS*: 227 Seventh Street

TASTE OF LEATHER*: 960 Folsom Street

TAYLOR OF SAN FRANCISCO*: 768 Clementina Street

WORN OUT WEST: 1150 Howard Street

*DRUMMER sold at these locations

Outside of Map Area

BARS

0 ALVIN'S: 83 First Street

0 AMBUSH: 1351 Harrison Street

ARENA: 399 Ninth Street

ASYLUM*: Eighth Street and Bryant

BRIG*: 1347 Folsom Street

BROWN'S PUB: 1190 Folsom Street

COCKRING: Sixth Street near Folsom DREAMLAND: 715 Harrison Street

END UP: Sixth Street and Harrison

0 FEBE'S*: Eleventh Street and Folsom

FICKLE FOX: 842 Valencia Street 0 527 CLUB: 527 Bryant Street

0 GOLDEN RIVET: 150 Ninth Street

0 HAMBURGER MARY'S: 1582 Folsom Street

2 LITTLE MICHELLE'S: 64 Rausch Street

RAMROD*: 1225 Folsom Street •

SPURS: 298 Valencia Street

0 STUD: 1535 Folsom Street

0 TRENCH*: 164 Eighth Street

0 TROCADERO TRANSFER: 520 Fourth Street

0 WATERING HOLE: Sixth Street and Folsom

FOOD

0 ALVIN'S: 83 First Street

0 AMBUSH UPSTAIRS: 1351 Harrison

0 ASYLUM UPSTAIRS: Eighth Street and Bryant

0 BROWN'S PUB: 1190 Folsom Street

0 CANARY ISLAND: 1270 Harrison Street

0 FICKLE FOX: 842 Valencia Street

0 527 CLUB: 527 Bryant Street

0 HAMBURGER MARY'S: 1582 Folsom Street

0 HEADQUARTERS: 683 Clementina Street

CONSENTING ADULTS.

ROBATH HOUSE SUT 1015 F

OPEN 24 HOURS A DAY

WOMEN and COUPLES = 1 / 2 PRICE MEMBERSHIP (with this ad)

Sweat It Out…

Club San Francisco 330 Ritch St.-(415) 392 · 3582

HAMBURGER MARY'S An institution. Mary's is the most successful restaurant and bar business South of Market. Its fame is worldwide, so it is not uncommon to see limos parked outside and society women in minks eating next to leather- men. The original "funk city" in decor, it has been highly imitated but never equaled. Mary's is really something to see. Billing itself as an "organic grill" the

The bar is in the second dining room and specializes in tropical drinks such as pina colladas and fresh banana daquiris made in a blender. Expect to have to wait a few minutes at the bar for a table at almost anytime of the day or night as the restaurant does not accept reservations.

Hamburger Mary's has been serving the gay community for

8 years, longer than any other gay restaurant South of Market. Its tremendous success is its best recommendation. A definite

'must see" for any visitor to Folsom.

Food orders are accepted from 10 AM 'til closing at 2 AM.

BROWN'S pub & hostelry

OPEN 7:00 A.M. to MIDNIGHT DAILY FEATURING: BROWN'S B&D SPECIAL ROAST BEAST SPECIAL AND OTHER HOUSE FETISHES

1188 FOLSOM STREET SAN FRANCISCO 94103 415-864-9141

LEATHER TECHNOLOGY:

THE CHAPS: Engineered for the look and fit you demand. The cycle weight cowhide worked by precision conscious crafts-

$160.00 men.

THE VESTS: A classic western cut.

We supply the style and fit; you supply the body.

THE NEW

CATALOG: Now available, featur- ing artwork by Dayhoff. By mail or stop by and $3.00 see us.

PRODUCTS

227 Seventh Street San Francisco, CA 94103 (415) 863-7764

HOURS: 10:30 - 6:00 Mon - Fri

11:00 - 5:00 Saturdays

SOUTH OF R&R

THE HANDBALL EXPRESS

Definitely not your typical bath house, The Handball Express is dedicated to rough and ready action in the style of Express is dedicated to rough and ready action in the old Barracks. This private club comfortably holds about 250 men in its four stories. Besides private rooms, it has several public areas, including a bunkroom. Attitude locals and international visitors. This is strictly get-down orientated, and the reputation the Handball has among visitors stretches around the world.

Special facilities include several sling rooms, a watersports complex with an old victorian bathtub (separated from the public areas only by jail bars), a complete tack room for cowboys hosting saddles and bridles, and sinister B&D rooms. The building also has a walled deck on the roof for fucking under the stars.

CLUB BATHS San Francisco: Located South of Market, this is the city's most lavish bathhouse. Part of the Club Baths Chain, it is the flagship of the corporation. It has everything you could possibly want: steam, sauna, snack bar, gym, jacuzzi, TV room, etc.

Decorated in a modern motif, it is clean, safe and fairly priced. Membership is required; however, your card is ac- cepted at Club Baths across the nation and in Canada. A good

For visitors to San Francisco, the Club Baths is the slickest and most popular such place available and we highly recommend it. You will not be hasseled. As a helpful hint, we are talking about the Club Baths San Francisco, located on Ritch Street — do not be confused by an establish

THE END

A SOUTH OF MARKET TRADITION SINCE 1973

JOCKSTRAP DANCE CONTEST ALTERNATE SUNDAYS

OPEN AT 6:00 AM EVERY SATURDAY AND SUNDAY

Endup Hours: Mon-Fri: 3:00 p.m.-2:00 a.m. Sat-Sun: 6:00 a.m.-2:00 a.m.

6TH & HARRISON, SF

The boys at the Boot Camp, one of South of Market's most active clubs, know how to have a good time. This photo was taken in the little rear building which features a bathtub for showers and refreshing recycled for the thirsty. Other trips take place in rooms designed to fulfill your fantasy. Variety is very spicey South of Market. High recommended are the special parties. Wear a yellow hanky.

THE BOOT CAMP For many years this was one of South of Market's most popular leather bars. It has since converted to a private membership club that is one of the delights of the Folsom area after hours. Two floors of fun plus a rear building make this one of the most unusual recreational establishments in the world.

An annual membership is five dollars and gets you in the first time; thereafter, it's two dollars each visit. You have in-and-out privileges at all times in case you want to bar hop during the evening.

+ bar & restaurant

Lunch served Tuesday - Friday, 11 AM to 2 PM Dinner served nightly, 5:30 to 10 PM Closed Mondays.

BRUNCH Sundays, 11 AM to 3:30 PM Steak and Eggs: $4.95, Steak Dinner: $4.95 Leather Levis (Tux & sequins optional)

12 Decatur Street S.F. 415 / 621-0772

<math>\Omega_1(0)</math>

MR. S PRODUCTS: Specializing in high-quality leather goods in the "British-American tradition," Mr. S offers the leatherman some of the best custom-made leather chaps, pants and accessories to be found anywhere. All of the work is done right there; the craftsmanship is excellent and the fitting is perfect.

Mr. S also carries magazine, toys, slings and other merchandise that the leatherman wants and needs. Also, Mr. S maintains a small, second store inside the Brig bar which is open in the evening. There you can buy toys, magazines and other items. Mr. S has a large catalog for those who want to shop via the mail. Orders are promptly filled.

THE AMBUSH LEATHER SHOP: On the second floor of this very popular bar, the Ambush shop sells custom leather clothing made in the third floor work rooms. The shop also sells cigarettes, papers, magazines, head items, toys, gum, etc. The store opens at 11:30 AM and closes because of the bar downstairs and the restaurant on the same floor as the leather shop. One of the things you'll be sure to want is an Ambush T-shirt, about the most popular shirt South of Market. Also, original art is exhibited and for sale throughout the entire complex.

Shopping South of Market has become a much more interesting experience in just the last year. Along with the well-established leather shops, including the largest in the world, there are now a number of clothing stores and other establishments that cater to the leather crowd. They offer a wide selection of merchandise, both new and used. Also, the profusion of stores has created a healthy, competitive spirit. Bargains are to be found as well as unique items of special interest to leathermen.

Custom made leather clothes and accessories are available at a number of these shops, each with its own particular designs, all made on the premises. Also, many of the stores have mail-order catalogs and do a brisk business with men who visit the store once while visiting San Francisco and then shop through the mail when they return home. Many of these tiems are unavailable anywhere but Folsom; and no leatherman can consider his trip South of Market compl

A TASTE OF LEATHER: Unquestionably the world's largest gay department store. It is just one room after another, each with its own flavor, filled with merchandise. More things of interest to the leatherman than we could begin to list, the store has a bookshop, special rooms devoted to toys, clothing, leather goods, shoes and boots, and on and on.

Began as the tiniest, closet-size shop off the toilets at Febe's bar over fourteen years ago. Nick the owner still personally maintains this humble beginning each evening, himself. Keeping close contact with his customers even though he now has a virtual leather empire has been the key to Nick's success.

No trip to South of Market is complete without a visit to A Taste of Leather. And while you're there, get one of Nick's catalogs ($3) so you can shop by mailorder.

FOLSOM STREET MAN The first "smart little store," The Folsom Street Man has broken new ground South of Market and the neighborhood has responded very postively. As fine a small clothing store as you will find anywhere in t city, it sells pants, shirts, coats and other clothing items, all of a casual style. The store has a beautiful rear garden that connects to one of the more popular coffee shops South of Market Chamiltonia. Market. Shopping is a real treat and can easily be combined with lunch or dessert.

Below, leatherman gets measured for a new pair of pants at Taylor of San Francisco. Left, the well-dressed man South of Market sports boots, Levis, chaps, vest and arm band from Taylor.

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CLIP and USE

WORN OUT WEST The neighborhood's newest store serving the leatherman. Worn Out West sells used and abused clothing. This is the big bargain center for the man South of Market. A pair of perfectly faded levis can be had for as $6. Fabulous shirts for even less. Used jock straps are very popular.

San Francisco is Worn Out West's second store, the first is in Los Angeles. Among the many things that will fulfill your fantasy are fireman's work clothes and other fetish items for those who are into uniforms and masculine costumes. Worn Out West has been an instant success and is a real asset to the neighborhood. Welcome.

OPENING IN MAY anerican american and vietnamese cuisine

Serving full-course meals

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Hallan espresso coffees

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Serv Open daily at 11 AM for lunch and dinner Howard) 552-7677

Open daily at 11 AM for lunch and dinner & Howard) 552-7677

Open daily at 11 AM for lunch and dinner & Howard) 552-7677

Open daily at 11 AM for lunch and dinner

Bunch Served 11 AM until 5 PM

WORN OUT WEST

USED AND ABUSED CLOTHING TO FIT YOUR TRIP

1158 Howard Street San Francisco Cal. 94103 ALSO LOCATIONS IN HOLLYWOOD & LONG BEACH CAL.

In San Francisco

The Hotel El Dorado

A Hotel in The Tradition of The European Pensione

On your next visit to San Fran-a warm European pensione. of the City's newest opleasures—a stay at Fresh coffee is served just outside your door. Our modest rates in-the tastefully restored Hotel El Dorado. We clude a continental breakfast each morn- ing. Off-street park-offer easy access to the Downtown, Polk, ing is available. Treat yourself to the Hotel El Castro and Folsom districts . Comfortable and Dorado. Call or write for secure, you are reminded of reservations.

Rates begin at $1950

150 Ninth Street, San Francisco, CA 94103 • (415) 552-4660

WARRY SHOPS

BECNEL / HAMPTON LAMPS Specializing in elegant brass floor and desk lamps, this store is the first retail outlet of two very successful wholesalers with offices at the Ice House and Showplace. Here is an opportunity to buy very high-line light- ing fixtures directly from the source. This of course makes shopping somewhat less expensive.

Becnel / Hamptom also has a full line of Oriental ginger jar lamps and natural and lacquered basket lamps. Many of the lamps are custom made and unique to the shop.

The backroom workshop offers wiring, rewiring and lamp repairs. The workmanship is far beyond the "fix-it" shop level.

This shop is a forerunner of the small group of galleries and retail shops that are beginning to dot the neighborhood. The owners are part of a group of businessmen that are familiar faces at the leather bars at night.

1270 Harrison St. San Francisco, CA 94109 (415) 431-4666

South of Market has three hotels serving the gay community.

BROWN'S PUB & HOSTELRY

The first gay hotel in San Francisco, Brown's is beautifully decorated in a decadent Victorian style. This hotel is a favorite of Europeans and is right on Folsom Street. Phone reservations are accepted , but you should make plans early especially for holiday week- ends such as July 4th or Labor Day. Singles, doubles and suites are available — each different and charming.

THE ELDORADO HOTEL

Large and spacious, the Eldorado Hotel recently opened its doors and was an immediate success with the gay community. Conviently located close to all the action South of Market, it does a brisk business with leathermen visiting San Francisco . Phone reservations accepted. Make your plans well in advance.

THE ANXIOUS ARMS South of Market's newest and smallest gay hotel, the Anxious Arms features budget prices for the traveller. Within an easy walk of all the action , it is a favorite of those of modest means. Phone reservations.

CAKE GALLERY X-Rated cakes are the specialty of this most far out bakery. It could exist no where else than in San Francisco, and it is especially appropriate that it is South of Market. Here, you can order extraordinary pastry creations in the shape of a cock with ball harness and silver studs or have your favorite piece of erotic art done in icing as is the Rex drawing shown here.

In fact, when the Rex cake design first appeared in their window, Rex himself marched me over to see it gleefully saying, "You really know you've arrived when you see your art work copied on cake!'

The owners of the bakery are familiar faces in many of the bars South of Market and take great care in seeing that their pastry pieces are anatomically correct. This is a fun place to visit South of Market during the day. The shop has a complete color album of their various designs and it is a true inspiration to behold.

Besides the open-to-the-public South of Market businesses and gathering places, there is a great deal of behind-the-scene activity (no, not that kind) worthy of your attention. ALTERNATE PUBLISH-ING has its Editorial and Production offices here; as does THE SENTINEL, San Francisco's largest gay newspaper. T.J. CREATIONS crafts their popular leather roses and macrame body harnesses in this part of town. CITY PRINTERS, a popular small press shop, is lo- cated off Folsom. And PACIFIC WESTERN DISTRIBUTORS, the makers of RUSH and BOLT, are headquartered in this popular area. In addition, many artists, writers and creative people — who you have seen and read in DRUMMER make South of Market their home. But that just might be because there's no place like this anywhere in the world.

# : 1 04 : 4 H : 3 0

FOLSOM STREET WAREHOUSE THEATRE

This is the South of Market answer to Broadway. A group of hard-working, dedicated, hot, pro- fessional, creative, hot guys writing, staging, and presenting theatre for their Folsom Street peers. Their range has been from the tradi- tional, through the experimental; with their recent offering a musical/ leather version of Shakespeare's Mid-Summer Night's Dream, which raised some eyebrows even here. It's high-energy theatre, but casual and realistic in its approach to both the neighborhood and the audience. Check them out when you're here to see what's in the works.

DRUMSTICKS

Drummer Reads The Books

"For now - relax! And come with me. You have no choice, I've invited you. We will have a lot of sex. You are going to laugh a great deal - people have no idea how blithe a suicide can be! And you'll meet a few human beings whom you'll have to love as much as I do.'

The Story of Harold

EVENTUALLY, THE DETECTIVE

Reprints are the most exciting news as far as gay books are concerned right now. For the Drummer reader, the most important news is that Avon Books has decided that The Story of Harold ($3.95, Paperback) will not die. This compelling novel with strong and explicit S&M themes did poorly as a hardcover book in 1974 when booksellers were still wary of any gay book, let alone one with a leather theme, and it bombed as a trade paperback a year later. Somehow, someone at Avon decided it was still viable (it is) and arranged for its third release. When this book was first reviewed here, Drummer said:

The Story of Harold is symbolic, for sure, but it is about everything important to human beings and resolves itself in the finest literary tradition.

Avon has released two other very significant books, both by John Horne Burns. Lucifer With a Book and The Gallery (both $2.95, paperback) are the two major novels of a man who was widely praised as the most promising novelist of the post-Second World War period. Burns unfortunately died in 1953 at the age of 36. The gay subthemes of the two novels were some of the first explicit, realistic gay passages in popular American fiction.

Looking for Rachel Wallace is the latest of a series of private detective novels by Robert Parker that are a weak attempt at making their central character, a detective named Spenser, a cult hero. It's not the first time that the Boston-based flat foot has dealt with gay characters , and it is interesting to note the most effective moments in the novel are those where he is reflecting on the pressures being imposed on a Lesbian feminist . Still, the novel doesn't work all that well. The inclusion of the author in a series of essays on contemporary detective novelists called Sons of Sam Spade (Ungar, hardcover, 1980, $9.95) doesn't lend that book much credibility, and any it did would be wiped out by the total exclusion of the gay-themed David Brad-stetter series written by Joseph Hansen. But the sweet revenge of the gay private eye fan is on its way: Holt, Rinehart, Winston are re-issuing all the Bradstetter novels in paperback soon. (The first three had gone out of print.) And, there's a sixth volume in the series coming out in the Fall.

A more immediate treat for Joseph Hansen's fans is a volume of his short stories, The Dog and Other Stories, which were published before the advent of the Bradstetter books. It's a fine example of his work, available from Momentum Press, 512 Hill St., Santa Monica, CA 90405; paperback, 1980, $3.50.

Back on the mystery-and-suspense trail: The inclusion of a single gay character with only a few references to his homosexuality doesn't warrent much attention in Drummer for Lesley Andress' Caper (Putnams, 1980, hardcover, $10.95), but it does give us an excuse to call your attention to one of the most compelling suspense novels we've read in a long time. Three characters, the chic Jannie Shean, the tough Jack Donohue, and the sexually ambiguous neighbor, become enmeshed in the planning of a crime that leads them into a nightmare world far from their East Side beginnings, and puts them in a pressure cooker where their sexual alliance, as a three-way, underscores their total dependence on one another. The book is relevent to the Drummer reader - it's about manhood, maleness, being an outlaw, and honesty. It's superbly crafted. We give it our highest recommendation.

Cesar Rotondi's Obsessions (St. Martin's Press, hardcover, 1980, $8.95) falls into a similar category. It consists of three novellas, each one concerning a different sexual obsession: tattoos, youth, and death. The tightly written pieces all follow their characters on a road to sexual obsession where the traffic lights have been turned off. There is no stopping each of these men and women straight or gay - once they have begun straignt or gay — once they have begun their descent (or ascent) into their chosen fields of specialization. It looks like the rest of the gay press is going to ignore this work; it doesn't, after all, deal with disco danc consider just what it is that you're all about, or would like to be.

- John Preston

The quality Magazine for grown up gays.

THE ALTERNATE is the magazine that will never bore you with the latest chic gossip or flashy trend. Heaven knows there are enough of those kind of maga- zines already. Instead, each issue of The Alternate will broaden your horizons: in politics, in art, in literature, in social behavior, in general. And, with a healthy sense of humor. And, if you subscribe now, you'll bypass the rate in- crease that is inevitable. 12 issues for $20.

Pick up a Six pack.

A few sets of the first six issues of THE ALTERNATE are avail- able for $10. Issue No. 7, with our coverage of Harvey Milk's assassination is available for $2. Issues No. 8, and 10 are all sold out.

ALTERNATE

15 Harriet Street San Francisco, CA 94103

□ Send a sample copy ($2.50)

☐ Send me twelve issues of the ALTERNATE ($20),

Send me a Six Pack of the first six. ($10). Enclosed is $___

NAME_ ADDRESS -

CITY / STATE / ZIP

TICKLIN' BOB / ROCKY HILL

You guys who say that this magazine is missing the tickle torture this his more. Do you think that you can handle this moustache, which gets totally out of hand? If so, write: Bob, Box 433, Rocky Hill, CT 06007.

Drummer's Tough Customers are just what the name implies, ready and willing - but hard to please tops and bottoms. And there's nothing as up-front as a Drummer man, right? That's why these studs are here, to show you what they've got and to see if you're man enough to handle it. Want to join them? Then let's see what you've got, stud. Send your black and white photos to: Tough Customers, c / o Drummer, 15 Harriet St., San Francisco, CA 94103. If it's good enough, you'll see it here. Photos cannot be returned.

etters New York

BAR CUFFS & LEG IRONS

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BAR CUFFS … $52.00 LEG IRONS … $69.00

Fetters, the unique bondage supply company, deals in AUTHENTIC and REPLICA Law Enforcement handcuffs, manacles, shackles, prison irons, strait jackets, headlocks, collars, and many other restraint tools.

Fetters, will also custom create your own punishment devices or modify antique designs for your own needs. There is no one like us! For your illustrated brochure, send $2.00 to:

895 Broadway New York NY10003

Terry Photo Studios presents Color Bodybuilding Contest Photos. Eight different jocks per set. Sets K & L now available. Each set $10 plus $1.50 postage. All photos sent insured mail. Send M.O.'s or check, No cash or C.O.D.'s. (California residents add 6% tax).

TERRY PHOTO BOX 31241 SAN FRANCISCO, CA 94131

IER SHOPPER THE DRUMMER

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Locks when closed

DEALER INQUIRIES WELCOME

Please send me _ top(s) at $4.95 each plus $.50 for postage and handling. Send checks or money orders to: POPPER TOPPER, Box 414142, Miami Beach, Fla. 33141

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REVERSE DISCRIMINATION

Cheryl Taylor of Kansas City, Mo., a 20-year-old Army Private, was found guilty of sexual har- assment, thereby pioneering wo- men's efforts to break into this heretofore male-dominated field. "It's the first reported sexual harassment case under current terminology involving charges brought against a female soldier," said an Army spokesman who said that the Army considered that Taylor's act, grabbing a fellow soldier between the legs and calling him a shrimp, constituted sexual molestation . She was sentenced to 30 days hard labor, fined $298 and demoted one rank.

STRAIGHT TV DISCIPLINE

This is the story of Dirk Dirk-sen's birthday party. Heidi and Olga, of the punk rock group VS, found Dirksen backstage at his punk rock palace, The Mabuhay Gardens, wearing a black evening gown and a blond wig. They dragged him onstage and ripped off his dress - exposing his true perverse taste: fishnet pantyhose under blue were singing; Dirksen tried to hide his secret by joining the lineup,

Heidi and Olga knew what to do. After all, they're the high-priestesses of bondage rock. The two leather-clad Amazons strung Dirk-sen up with a rope and some handcuffs . A surprise nurse rushed on stage and gave Dirksen a surprise enema. The audience was wet with delight. Dirksen tried to get free of his captors, but VS. had him firmly in hand and the Birthday Beating began. Thirty-nine lashes later, punk impersario Dirksen was a bloody lump amid the rising vapors.

Marching Cadets at the U.S. Air Force Academy in Colorado pour out in search for a few more good ones to add to their ranks.

PENIS ENHANCEMENT

Surgeons reattached an 8-year-old Los Angeles boy's severed penis Tuesday, but doctors said they will not know for a week whether the surgery was successful. Doctors said the boy, who was not identi-fied , is in good condition after the four-hour operation. His father, who allegedly cut off his son's penis and flushed it down the toilet, was in custody in suburban Pasadena on a charge of mayhem. Authorities notified shortly after the incident searched the city sewer system for 90 minutes before locating the organ. They used water pressure to trap it in wire mesh two blocks from the boy's house. They rushed the organ to County USC-Medical Center, where doctors were waiting to operate. Authori-ties would not say why the father allegedly attacked the child.

S'X 9 / 2 Panner Demagner 2

CENTER OF HOTO BELT A AREA CROTCH

SIN NO 37 thorex S 6 State of Bakeri

CONRAP

PRISON RESOURCES

Although there are a lot of gay organizations that cater to specific needs within the overall gay community, gay prisoner groups are few. Below are listed some of the larger organizations. As we receive information about new groups, we will include that information in this column.

FORTUNE SOCIETY 29 East 22nd Street New York, NY 10010

This is the grand-daddy of gay prison/ prisoner organizations. They provide a number of services and publish a newsletter : Fortune News.

PRISONERS UNION 1315 Eighteenth Street San Francisco, CA 94107

An organization of about 25,000 convicts and ex-convicts who have joined forces to negotiate collective bargaining within correctional facilities. They publish a newsletter called Outlaw.

NATIONAL PRISON PROJECT AMERICAN CIVIL LIBERTIES UNION 1346 Connecticut Ave. NW Washington, DC 20036

The ACLU is the vanguard of civil liberties protection in the United States, and their Prison Project works very hard to insure inmates enjoy the same Bill of Rights protections as people on the outside

PRISON PEN PALS Box 1217 Cincinnati, OH 45202

A private organization that arranges correspondence between prisoners and people on the outside. While the organization is not gay, it makes no difference between gay and non-gay prisoners. Just be upfront about your gayness in contacting them.

PRISON PAROLE AND PROBATION PROGRAM

L.A. Gay Community Services Center Box 38777

Los Angeles, CA 90038

A variety of programs are offered by this umbrella organization in Los Angeles.

GAYCON NEWSLETTER

The editor of this important and popular newsletter suffered some personal difficulties from which he has recovered. News of The Gaycon Newsletter's reappearance will be in the next ConRap column.

PRISONERS

James Diaz, No. 78A2610, Clinton Cor- rectional Facility, Box 367 — Merle Cooper, Dannemora, NY 12929. He is 525 years old, 5'8", 150 lbs., and is look- ing to correspond with a gay man.

Robert Trapier, No. 72A1249, Clinton Correctional Facility, Box 367 — Merle Cooper, Dannemora, NY 12929. Am 30, 5'7', 159 lbs., have a 10" cock and am looking for a man to put it in. I have been down for some time, but will be getting out in July 1981. Will answer all letters, and will send a photo.

George Tolbert, No. 142-112, Box 69, London Correctional Institute, London, OH 43140. I am a first-time offender in need of the therapeutic touch of communication with caring people, answer all who care enough to write. Will

Donald E. Barks, No. 145-541, Box 45699, Lucasville, OH 45699. I am 23, Black, muscular, 5'10", 168 lbs. I am looking for an understanding correspondence that could turn into a relationship.

PUBLICATIONS

Gay prisoners have a difficult time receiving gay publications for any number of reasons, including the unwillingness on the part of the prison to allow them to be received. Some publications, like DRUMMER, have an even more difficult problem gaining entry, since the prisons tend to view DRUMMER as 'unsettling.' However, a number of publications make gratis copies available to prisoners. In almost all cases, the publication requires that the prisoner write asking for a free copy himself. If you have a prison correspondent , you might pass this information on to him.

R.F.D., Route 1, Box 92E, Efland, NC 27243. RFD is a magazine written for gays in rural areas. They feature a prison page in each issue.

Revolutionary Socialist League, Box 562, New York, NY 10036. The League publishes a newspaper, The Torch, which is bi-lingual (English and Spanish) and will send a free subscription to prisoners.

The Alternate, 15 Harriet, San Francisco, CA 94103. The Alternate is published bi-monthly and centers on gay literature, art, and politics. A copy will be sent free to prisoners requesting one.

War Resisters League, 339 Lafayette St., New York, NY 10012. The League publishes a calendar each year that they will send free to prisoners. The theme of this year's calendar is "While There is a Soul in Prison."

Gay Insurgent, Box 2337, Philadelphia, PA 19103. This publication comes out three times a year and is intended for a highly literate audience of gay activists. Subscriptions will be sent free to prisoners requesting one.

MMER views the Flicks

If you've never heard of this Australian film, the theatre poster should be enough to convince you it's going to be a heavy-duty B-grade treat; tempting as hell with its regalia of leather and chrome imagery. And if you aren't looking for leather policeman's uniform with a monster gun in his arms - sitting atop a large red rock precipice - he looked capable.

Another version:

Huge cop towering over me. I want him … bad. Black leather gloves snug on thick fists, holding a powerful, alien gun.

Yes, man … let me feel that fat cop tool slide down my throat … let me know what it feels like … look at me, drooling for it.

"You want it, shitface, you gotta earn it. Gotta lick my gun, you worth-less pile of shit. Suck on it. More! I'll blow your fucking brains out if you don't open up and swallow more of the barrel. C'mon, fucker!"

The film opens with some fat and ugly slob and his girlfriend cruising around in their souped-up black sports car, raising hell on the highways. And they're being chased by a pair of Laurel and Hardy-type cops. Whoever designed the costumes for these cops had a leather fetish the likes of which you've never seen before - slick black jackets with shoulder pads, tight leather pants, boots with thick lug soles. Strictly made to make admirers grovel.

The film cuts to a well-built stud leaning under the hood of his cop car. You don't see his face, but the radio is blaring for him to go after the hell-raisers from the previous scene. He comes

SUMMER TANS LOOK TERRIFIC IN LE SALON'S NEW TANKS & T'S!

LE SALON had artist A. JAY design 3 of his hot superstuds for their new line of t-shirts & tanks. All are printed on top quality white shirts, have the Le Salon logo, and are available in all sizes. (Note: If you like a snug fit, order the next smaller size since these t-shirts are full cut.)

TANKS..$5.95 EA T-SHIRTS..$6.95 EA When ordering, state style A, B, or C, Tank or T-Shirt, and size S, M, L, X-L.

THE PORTABLE MALE DOUCHE IS VACATION BOUND!

The Portable Male Douche is the perfect traveling companion! It can be stashed in the smallest shoulder bag, toilet kit, or back-pack and goes anywhere and everywhere. So why lug along those other cumbersome douches when this discreet li'l job does the trick. It's America's top seller … so send for yours today and be all safe.

The Portable Male Douche comes complete with a 1 / 2 gal. vinyl bag, 60-inch hose with a lubricated tip, and a packet of Castile soap concentrate. Only $9.95 (plus $1 ea. for postage and handling).

HOT SUMMER READING!

LE SALON IS INTERNATIONAL!

When visiting San Francisco, stop by our store at 1118 Polk Street. Le Salon carries the newest and hottest in male books, mags, films, cassettes, aromas, lubricants, and other macho merchandise! You'll also be amazed at our wide selection of unusual souvenir goodies for those special guys back home. Traveling abroad? Then check out our store

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LE SALON, 30 Sheridan St., Dept. D, San Francisco, CA 94103

Rush me . of your hot, new Tank / T-Shirts (circle one) in the following style(s): A / B / C (circle one) and in the following size: small, medium, large, X- large (circle one). I'm enclosing $5.95 per tank, $6.95 per T-shirt, plus $1 for postage & handling.

Rush me _ of your Portable Male Douches at $9.95 each. I'm enclosing $1 for postage & handling.

Rush me the following new mags: ☐ HORNY, ☐ FUSE, ☐ STROKES No. 2 at $8.50 each or all 3 for $24. I'll add $1 per mag for postage & handling.

I'm enclosing my check / M.O. for $ _

PLEASE PRINT

Sorry, no C.O.D.'s. Calif. residents add 6% sales tax. Offer void in Texas & Tenn. Store / Mail Order inquiries invited.

about six-feet-five-inches, bald, has pecs as big as a football field, biceps that would beat the band, and is just a mean looking son-of-a-bitch. He smokes a fat cigar. It suits him, he has fat fingers.

With some fast talking, he convinces Max to hold off on the resignation, take his little wife and kid on a vacation, and reconsider when he gets back.

The vacation turns a little sour when Jessie runs into Nightrider and the boys. From here on out, it's strictly special effects for pure sensationalism's sake, and every trick in the director's bag is used to keep the carnage coming, non-stop, til the end.

This could become the cult movie of the 1980s. It's nowhere near as sophisticated as Clockwork Orange; which might be in its favor. And it makes rape, plunder, murder, and motorized meyham look like popular recreational activities. And if the draggy scenes between Max and Jessie were cut, it would be worth seeing three times.

– Dean Malunat

out from under the hood, but still no face, just a tight close-up of him putting industrial hand cleaner on his thick hands - the camera pulling back to expose his big, muscle-ridden biceps.

Another version:

I'm handcuffed, facing the radiator, watching him pull out from under the hood Biceps buldge while he smears Crisco on his meaty fist. I'm starting to tremble … fear / anticipation. I feel, but don't see, one of those huge hands on the cheek of my ass.

The camera shows us his face: wide jaw, full lips that droop slightly at the ends, strong straight nose, deep-set and hyptonizing obsidion eyes, dark brows. This is obviously Mad Max. This is the hero of the film.

He puts on his leather jacket, gets in the car, goes after the troublemakers, catches them, and manages to conclude the feat in a firey crash that wipes them out of existence and will sear your eyeballs.

It turns out that Max has unknowingly killed the leader of a motorcycle gang that has a history of terrorizing traditional four-wheel vehicle drivers. It also sexuality between Nightrider and Johnny translates to embarassingly mushy mo- ments between Max and Jessie that aren't tender, just dumb. But the people who made this film are obviously into action, not dialogue.

Nightrider, still bent on revenge, has Johnny kill Max's partner and friend, Jimmy Goose. And the Director, George Miller, could easily be mistaken for a closet pyromaniac, because there are fires everywhere, anytime, at the slightest provocation. It's Towering Inferno set on the absolutely flat Australian outback.

Johnny (Tim Burns) is the best actor in the film; his character is so psychotic and he is so believeable in the role, that it's either pure talent or he's going to grow up to be Adolph Hitler. That is, if he ever gets out from under Nightrider.

Another version:

Johnny is on his hands and knees in front of me, his head hanging down real low … he's naked … I can see the smooth skin of his back pulled across tight muscular shoulders, heaving from sobs as the beautiful cat-of-nine whips across his back, cutting thin slices into his flesh, where lines of bright blood spring to the surface.

He raises his head to look at me. His dark eyes are rich-colored but blank. He is absolutely silent except for the low moan that escapes his throat with each lash of the leather whip.

His lips part, with the slightest tremble … "C'mon, Johnny, dog, lick your master's hands … worship the hand that whips you. Suck the fingers, suck tham real pole. All of them them real nice. All of them - all of it, take all that hand in your mouth. Whatsa matter, afraid you can't breathe? Well, it don't matter. You're mine, and you

Max is freaked out by his partner's murder and storms into the office of the Chief of Police, Fifi Macaffee (Yes, Fifi!) to submit his long-contemplated resignation.

Fifi just doesn't fit his name. He's seems that this film is set slightly in the future, when motorcycles reign supreme and the police have become ineffectual morons. And it also turns out that Mad Max is the superhero of the police - he always gets his man.

The gang declares revenge, and its new leader, Nightrider, takes them on a terror campaign against the residents of a small town. The gang chases and captures a teenage couple driving a primo '61 Chevy, and rapes them both, totally trashing their car in an orgy of crowbars and broken glass.

Nightrider has a beautiful, lean slave boy named Johnny. Remember, this is an Australian film - gay characters are required to be the bad guys.

Max has a wife. The powerful paen of