Erotic City

by Ray McMillin

Howdy, kids. Are you ready for one more holiday during lockdown?

We Don’t Die—We Multiply

The COVID era has been slowly coming to an end, just in time for the election. Isn’t that an odd coincidence? It’s almost as if public fear is being manipulated by all sides of the political aisle, in order to use a national (or, in this case, global) tragedy in order to usher in bipartisan fascism (or, at least infringe upon our personal freedoms, while destroying the economy). But, since I’m a horrible patriot and a weed smoker, I don’t remember what happened after September 11 (hold on, let me check the FBI’s website and look at my browser history) and am thus going along with the "new normal," because, hey, everyone else is doing it, right?

Put simply, business is not exactly booming for the entertainment industry and I’m getting the vibe that a lot of us who work among the clothing-impaired are itching to get back on the pole, into the DJ booth and/or behind the bar. Well, I come bringing good news for the hopeless—specifically, anyone who is wondering if their strip club will survive 2020.

Let me make this perfectly clear—while I cannot guarantee that every bar and restaurant will survive in a bad economy, I can ensure that, of the various types of bars and restaurants, strip clubs are much more likely to survive an economic crash than, well, literally any other type of watering hole. If given enough time, every non-sustainable bar, coffee shop, record store, vegan bike gallery and intersectional yoga studio slash taphouse slash at-risk puppy adoption center in the Portland area will become a strip club.

Don’t believe me? Here’s a story.

Back in 2008 (after the last economic crash), instead of buying Bitcoin, I invested in a pair of turntables and some karaoke equipment. Way to go, me, I guess? Anyhow, due to a recent plunge in the job market, my strip club DJ gig wasn’t paying all the bills, as tipping customers were drying up. So, I took the first Craigslist job I could find that involved "DJ" in the description and ended up at an upscale "jazz club" near Lake Oswego. The owner wanted a regular (non-jazz) night with karaoke and "whatever the regulars want(ed) to hear" (mostly jazz). Fair enough.

While the skillset of a strip club DJ shares more in common with a radio DJ than a nightclub DJ, I’ve wasted enough of my adult life to develop "talent" in all of the above areas—however, at the time, I had absolutely zero experience with karaoke (and, as it stands today, I still have very little experience in this area). For one, I can’t sing. Secondly, if I have to "get up there and pretend to sing," it’s gonna be gangsta rap. This was a bar full of old people, who were only there because they either knew the new owner or hated the previous one. And, to make things worse, this place had roughly four customers on a good night. The drink prices were through the roof. The food was typical bar fare, just re-branded with some parsley and fancy, expensive-looking plates. Worst (or best, depending on how bad the karaoke singer was) of all, the sound system was trash. Fun fact, if you didn’t already know—even professional singers sound like shit when they’re run through a cordless mic, into some cheap speakers and a "free" set of subs from that place in Gresham with the guy who screams in his ads (and, who is also surprisingly cool in real life, so give him some business next time he yells at you about tweeters).

So, having taken over "karaoke night" on...wait for it...Tuesday, my trek out of the industry was not looking promising. Sure, my girlfriend at the time wanted me to get a real job, but, I think she meant something in an office (or, at least a place with business). Either way, I pulled up before sundown on the slowest day of the week and set up my equipment (which ended up taking up all of the "stage," in addition to two tables near the bar), judged the crowd (Dean Martin, Sinatra and whatever country song is popular this week) and turned on the sound.

"Hey DJ, can you keep it down until the game is over?"

Sure thing, Bartender.

"Hey DJ, please turn up the music."

Sure thing, Owner.

Bartender is pissed.

"Do you have karaoke?"

Yes, I do, first young customer of the night.

"Do you have ‘Song That Came Out Today,’ the remix?"

Sorry. I have Sweet Caroline and everything Bon Jovi ever wrote. Maybe some Coolio.

The lack of quotes on the above answers is intentional, by the way—I was communicating with my eyeballs and nothing else, because I knew that opening my mouth in this situation would lead to what normally happens when I open my mouth (mumbled profanity and/or off-color jokes).

So, this goes on for a few hours and I’m eventually asked where "my crowd" is. Here’s something that every DJ who isn’t already famous needs to realize: you don’t have a "crowd." Your job is to keep and develop a crowd, at a specific venue, over time. It is the bar owner’s job to plant this magical "crowd" seed (possibly by hiring a promoter) and your job is to water this seed. But, telling your Facebook friends to show up and sing "Livin’ On A Prayer" to four uninterested, geriatric and annoyed regulars isn’t something that the next Skrillex should have to do. There’s a difference between "paying dues" and "playing Santana in an empty jazz bar."

At some point, between trying to find a specific Patsy Cline song for a drunk regular and telling her granddaughter "sorry" for the fifth time, a handful of off-duty stripper friends of mine and a bouncer buddy came walking in.

"Hey Ray, we saw your post and thought we’d swing by. Here’s twenty bucks, play some Snoop or something."

And, with this, I decided to play for "my crowd," who appeared to be ordering something other than Rolling Rock, which was making the bartender visibly happy. Also, the bartender liked the music and gave me a thumbs-up for the first time that night.

Then, the owner came over and asked me why I was playing "filthy" music.

"Remember, this is a jazz bar," Owner Lady Whose Name I Forgot told me. "We need to keep the jazz and karaoke crowd, before anything else."

Welp, there goes the only money I brought in...unless Owner Lady was gonna be cool about it. I told her, "Actually, these are request songs. Those people over there are ‘my crowd’ and they’re good spenders. Is it okay if I play rap music from twenty years ago? I doubt the Crips are gonna shoot this place up tonight."

"I don’t care. I hired you for karaoke. Why aren’t they singing?"

Good question, Owner Lady. Let’s see what happens when Alyssa does some "Milkshake" in front of those two old dudes, who appear to have been included with the building and probably haven’t seen a female under fifty since they were still employed, married and not day drinking on a "probably Tuesday."

As it turns out, Alyssa was quite the entertainment. Hell, Alyssa got Old Guy With The Red Hat to attempt his best Sammy Davis Jr. on the mic, before she came back up for "Cherry Pie" (twice—both versions).

At this point, the old guys were loving it, but, the owner was, well, being herself.

"Ray. This is NOT a strip club. This will NEVER be a strip club. We’re paying you for another hour and then you can go home. Obviously, no one is coming out tonight and the regulars are complaining."

"But, the regulars were not complaining and it wasn’t even 10pm yet," the narrator says.

"Fine enough. I’m sure there’s a better jazz-and-karaoke DJ out there, who would gladly take my possible-tips-per-hour (minus tab) rate. Do you mind if my friends stick around and I’ll give you this money back in exchange for shots and french fries?"

The owner looked at my friends, then back to me, then back at my friends. "Ray," she said, "I will say it again. I don’t like your ‘crowd.’ This will never, ever be a strip club."

Anyways, the place went broke and ended up selling the building. And, guess who eventually bought it? Stars Cabaret Bridgeport. So, it became a strip club.

That’s right—a jazz bar, located in the only neighborhood outside of downtown fit for a jazz bar, immediately off the freeway and with plenty of parking, eventually became a strip club. And, a damn fine one, if you ask me—Stars is a local staple and I’ve never, ever had a bad steak at the place (plus, the DJ is allowed to play "filthy" music while sexy girls dance).

But, my point is, that if anything will survive (and thrive) during a recession, it’s the titty bar industry.

And, if you’re a previous owner of this bar, no, I’m not talking about when you owned it. There were no less than ten different themes for this place, ranging from blues, to "just food," to "obvious front," throughout the years. Guess which one survived? The strip club. I hope it will never be anything but a strip club. Take that, Owner Lady Who Called Snoop Dogg "Filthy."

I Remember Halloween

Speaking of Stars Cabaret Bidgeport, they’re having a party for Halloween, appropriately titled "A Nightmare On McEwan Street," on Monday, October 31. Prizes for best costume (the lady and I got dibs on that gun-toting Boomer couple with the mustard stains and bad trigger discipline), good food, naked ladies and good music. Meanwhile, don’t forget to swing by Salem (which is only a few exits down, for those of you heading out of town from Portland) for the Halloween party at Cheetahs XXX Cabaret. Up in Portland, The Gold Club will be opening at noon on Halloween for their party (all the more reason to have candy corn for breakfast before heading to the strip club, because YOLO), while Cabaret will be hosting their spooky celebration with four VIP rooms to choose from (this would make for a great makeshift haunted house with the right décor, jussayin...).

If my calculations are correct, these are the only Halloween parties going down on the entire west coast of our great country this year. So, while Bat Soup Flu can take our smiles, our streets, our storefronts and our "I wonder what it will be like in" 2020—in addition to our holidays—it cannot take our strip clubs (especially during a dress-up-and-consume-sugar themed festivity).

SPOTLIGHT OF EVENTS

MON 31—CABARET, CHEETAHS XXX CABARET, THE GOLD CLUB, STARS CABARET (BRIDGEPORT)—HALLOWEEN PARTIES

DAILY HAPPY HOURS

CABARET—HAPPY HOUR 11AM-5PM

DV8 —HAPPY HOUR 4PM-7PM

GUILTY PLEASURES—HAPPY HOUR 1:30PM-5PM

LUST LOUNGE—HAPPY HOUR 2PM-7PM

SCARLET LOUNGE—HAPPY HOUR 10AM-4PM

STARS CABARET (SALEM)—1, 2, 3 & 4 HAPPY HOUR 4PM-6PM

(More Exotic Magazine October 2020 Articles & Content)