Some Chicagoans may think that queer nightlife started in the city’s Northalsted (formerly Boystown) neighborhood.
However, in the ‘70s and ‘80s, it was the Old Town block of 1300 N. Wells St. that was the epicenter of LGBTQ+ club life—and things were a lot more open than what people would find now. There were establishments such as Carol’s Speakeasy and Den One as well as the notorious Bijou Theater, Glory Hole Tavern, adult bookstores, backrooms and cruising alleys.
Historian Owen Keehnen discusses these businesses and the area in depth in Gay Chicago Memories: 1300 N. Wells. In compiling the book, among other things, Keehnen spoke with dozens of individuals to present an entertaining and educational look at the scene during that pivotal time.
Recently, he talked with Windy City Times about Chicago Memories, Bruce Vilanch, bar raids and much more.
Note: This conversation was edited for clarity and length.
Windy City Times: When I last interviewed you a couple years ago about your book Man’s Country: More Than a Bathhouse, I asked you what direction you would probably go next. You listed a couple places like the Lincoln Park bushes or Montrose Harbor. What took you to 1300 N. Wells?
Owen Keehnen: I wasn’t thinking about what I was going to write; I was flipping through an old issue of what I believe was Gay Life and I saw an advertisement for the Glory Hole Tavern and it was going to have a tie-in with the Old Town Art Fair so it had a coloring contest. There was an outline of what people would be coloring in and there was an image of Den One, Bijou, a submarine place, a pizza place and Glory Hole. It wasn’t until I saw that image that I asked myself, “That’s all on the 1300 block of North Wells on one side?”—and there was more than that. It was kind of a found story, in a way.
There’s a quote at the end of the book in which someone said, “There’s absolutely nothing today that would give you any idea of what was there.” It’s fun to try to revive what you can before it completely vanishes. It’s fun to re-create the world.
WCT: And it might be safe to say that we’ll never see anything quite like that world again.
OK: No. I think that—with Carol’s, Bijou and Glory Hole—the density and events [will not be repeated]. This was the one time and area where people could authentically be themselves. It was an explosion of self. Everybody was ready to party; they had been repressed for so long. And I love capturing that vibrance, especially from that generation. It’s a way to [chronicle] the lives of that generation instead of the death of that generation.
I want to create the community environment with all its complexity and all its celebratory spirit, and show how much existed before the advent of HIV/AIDS. Many times, I think it’s just the endpoint only that’s viewed instead of the contributions of that period.
WCT: We have to talk about Mother Carol [aka Richard Farnham Carroll] because, without her, there would be no scene in that area.
OK: Oh, yeah. Mother Carol would be her own book. The Mother Carol story is a crazy and complex one; in some ways, it’s stranger than fiction. It’s extreme in almost every way when you start looking at Mother Carol’s life. There was indulgence in alcohol and drugs, and in keeping the neverending party. She was the queen of nightlife; Mother Carol could always draw a crowd.
She was a complete mess, according to most accounts—but in a loving way. However, she was also very nurturing to people who were coming into the community; that’s how Mother Carol got her name.
WCT: And she was 37 when she died?
OK: Yes, but Mother Carol told everyone she was a decade older. It was years of hard partying. Eventually, her body just gave out. Sadly, the last celebratory mark of Mother Carol was opening Carol’s Speakeasy—she passed away before the first anniversary. But the bar continued and had its own personality outside of Mother Carol, but the welcoming nature stayed with the establishment. It closed in ‘91.
WCT: If you could have met Mother Carol for this book, what’s one thing you think you would’ve asked her?
OK: I think I would ask Mother Carol if she thinks the community is stronger now. I’d be curious because I think, in some ways, the community was more bonded before but not as strong; its strength was within the community.
WCT: And, obviously, they didn’t have the internet back then.
OK: Right. And Gay Chicago actually started half a block north of there. Could you imagine the message board, if that’s how people communicated? There’s something about reading something in the paper that’s romantic and sweet. Back then, the gratification was so delayed that it was delicious.
WCT: One of the many, many bits in your book that surprised me was about Bruce Vilanch. I had no idea he once lived in Chicago, much less in Old Town.
OK: Oh, yeah. I talked with Bruce for the Man’s Country book and that’s when I learned that he lived in Chicago. And I saw the pieces that he wrote for the [Chicago] Tribune.
WCT: And you paint a vivid picture of the neighborhood. Not only do you talk about the businesses at the core of this book, but you also mention the Ripley’s Believe It or Not Museum that was in the area. I had no idea that was there.
OK: And I so wanted to work there—desperately. I’m sure they were disturbed by me. [Laughs] There was probably a picture of me behind the counter. It was the eeriness of it; I love wax museums, too. I like places with old-school thrills, like offbeat museums. That’s part of the reason I got into history—just imagining artifacts [during] the time they were used.
WCT: Regarding the bars, even though it was cool to have places to express yourself, they were not immune from raids.
OK: Oh, no. It was a very tumultuous period. With Chicago politics—especially after the first Mayor Daley died—the gay community was a pawn, I believe. There was a very big raid at Carol’s in 1985; I don’t know if a raid that size has taken place since then. During that raid, people had to lie in the middle of the dance floor, items from their wallets were photocopied, and they were harassed and couldn’t go to the bathroom. It was 40 years ago but, at the same time, people thought that was a thing of the past. That year was really late for that to happen.
People need to know what happened, how it changed things—and how things could easily go back to that. Now, everything is back on the table.
WCT: And could you talk about how the death of a bartender led to the creation of Center on Halsted?
OK: Before there was Carol’s Speakeasy, there was Carol in Exile; it was on Broadway just south of Addison. Frank Rodde, a very popular bartender there, was killed in his building. His murder has never been solved.
The Tavern Guild—a collective of gay bars that had been raising money for things like having a better Pride Week—changed its focus after Rodde’s murder. They started collecting money for the start of a community center. Eventually, it became the Frank Rodde Community Center, on Sheffield. Eventually, that transformed into Center on Halsted—a place for LGBTQ+ services and a community center for people.
WCT: One of the conclusions I got from this book was that you are not only a historian—you’re a fan of that era. You would’ve loved to have been around then.
OK: Oh, God, yes! I want to write about history that makes me want to go there, and I think it’s a fun way to teach history. Just make it like time travel. It’s really fun to read about history when you read about others’ perspectives about what it was like back then. I think a human connection is what makes history exciting for me and for the reader. I hope that my excitement translates—and people will learn something as well, hopefully.
WCT: What’s one thing that you want people to take away from this book?
OK: People tend to view [queer] history as Stonewall, AIDS, gay marriage. I want people to take away that this is a complex, different, ballsy, fun, wild reality that’s also relatable. I want people to see the life that existed within the community—in part, to shift the impact of loss, at the same time. People who passed away because of AIDS had these fun, crazy lives. They were more than victims and numbers.Gay Chicago Memories: 1300 N. Wells can be found on Amazon and at local bookstores such as Unabridged.