Dan Russo had nothing in common with his first cousin except their lineage and the fact that they were both young. But one evening when his cousin told him about the scene in downtown Newark, New Jersey, a door to a secret world opened for Dan-a world that revolved around homosexuality, new experiences, and sexual freedom. Russo begins his memoir in the early sixties, in a time when the Waldorf Hotel was a bohemian hangout for such artsy characters as Mad Alice who was always semi-drugged, Miss Coppertone who dyed his hair red and spoke with a lisp, and Mafia Bob who was gifted with a raspy voice and wore a tiny hat. As Russo continues with a revealing look into his childhood when his bi-curiosity began, he introspectively shares what it is like to be sexually confused, hide the secret of your true identity from everyone, and then suspect that some might know anyway. Downtown offers a profoundly honest, chronological portrayal of one man's coming-of-age journey through both the bright and dark sides of life as he eventually discovers his own way to bring good to a troubled world.

Downtown

By Dan Russo

iUniverse, Inc.

Copyright © 2011 Dan Russo
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4620-3466-6

Contents

Chapter 1: Downtown........................................1Chapter 2: Childhood.......................................9Chapter 3: Sexual Confusion................................17Chapter 4: Outed...........................................21Chapter 5: Cruising and Characters.........................26Chapter 6: The Navy........................................31Chapter 7: Nighttime at the Waldorf........................38Chapter 8: Working Day and Night...........................44Chapter 9: Secret Lives....................................50Chapter 10: Italians and Food..............................58Chapter 11: Siblings and Scams.............................62Chapter 12: Gay Violence...................................72Chapter 13: Businessman....................................78Chapter 14: A Walk on the Wild side........................87Chapter 15: The Mob........................................92Chapter 16: AIDs, Part 1...................................101Chapter 17: AIDs, Part 2...................................106Chapter 18: A Lost World...................................113Chapter 19: The Riots......................................118Chapter 20: Tough Tony.....................................124Chapter 21: Kids Today.....................................131Chapter 22: More Downtown Memories.........................137Chapter 23: Darren and Stash...............................143Chapter 24: More Sexcapades................................147Chapter 25: Sex vs. Love...................................151Chapter 26: Homophobia and Stereotypes.....................157Chapter 27: Gay Rights.....................................163Chapter 28: Politics the Hard Way..........................168Chapter 29: ... And More Politics..........................177Chapter 30: Where Did the Years Go?........................182

Chapter One

Downtown

If I had a time machine, I would wind up for eternity back in downtown Newark, new Jersey, in 1963. The years would reverse on my body, and I would know everything I know now.

I'd love to go back to the coffee shops and lunch spots like schraft's and Chock Full of nuts, Grant's Lunch and the novelty Bar and Grill, nedick's, Woolworth's Grill, and of course the Waldorf Cafeteria. God grant that to be my heaven for all time. How nice the people were then. The good times we had have never been matched for me anywhere, at any time, with any amount of money. It's a lost world I've never been able to find or duplicate since.

I guess downtown Newark of the early 1960s is my addiction, and I've spent my entire life looking for that fix.

It was a thriving, cosmopolitan city that drew shoppers and visitors from all around. The stores—Bamberger's, Kresge's, the huge Woolworth's—had wonderful smells of candy and homemade cakes and pies. The luncheonette loudspeaker would bark out: "Attention shoppers ... There is no waiting for seats at our second-floor lunch counter ... There you will find a choice selection of freshly baked goods and home-style foods ... Take the escalator to the second floor and enjoy your meal."

Hahne's, S. Klein on the square, and Orbach's were great, too. My grandma would buy a hat in Hahne's for a wedding she was attending, fold the price tag inside the rim, and then return it after the wedding. My gay cousin Liz tried to do the same thing at Orbach's with a suit, but the sales clerk said out loud, for everyone to hear, that he had worn it too long. He was so embarrassed.

You could find anything in the world in downtown Newark, from clothing to furniture to specialty foods. You could find super gifts for loved ones, and lots of places were open very late or even all night. And it was all a ten-minute bus ride from my home in the north ward.

Our relatives would come from the suburbs to shop there and used our house as their pit stop. This was a good thing for my mom, since she loved company. There was a standing rule: Don't bother to call. Just ring the bell and bring the cake for coffee.

But the best part of downtown Newark was the underground gay, bisexual, and lesbian scene my cousin Liz introduced me to. I'm not sure, but I might never have had any gay experiences if my cousin and I weren't so close in age. Without his influence, I would probably have been in the closet for much longer than I was, or perhaps forever.

I was in my late teens when my cousin came home one night and told me about the scene in Newark.

"Bobby," he said, using my middle name, "you've got to come downtown with me tonight. There are so many people like us. It was so much fun, and I met so many young guys who were interested in me."

And the next night I was there with bells on. Before then, between the ages of eight and eighteen, we thought we were the only two people in the world who did those strange and taboo things, like pull our pants down and play with each other. It was such a revelation.

We weren't freaks of nature as we had thought for so long. There were other odd people like us in the world.

Newark back then was truly the "gateway city," attracting people from all walks of life and from all over the world. It was a cozier version of new York, on a much smaller and more controllable scale. There were always transients who read Bob Damaron's guide to gay bars and nightspots and stopped by on their way to or from Manhattan.

There were so many gay and bi guys downtown that it was like our own city within a city. We loved using our own codes, lingo, and sign language.

The best thing was that most people who were shopping downtown had no idea of the underground world that was taking place right in front of their eyes. This same subculture has existed throughout time but isn't talked about. Most straight people, even the ones who thought they knew our scene, thought it was just a phase we were going through.

How funny that was to us. This was no phase but our reality for life.

I loved our secret world. All the signs, code words, and language, of which the straight world was oblivious, gave us a feeling of power and security.

There were words like "butch," which meant that someone was a manly type; "fem," which meant that someone was effeminate; "drag," which was someone who cross-dressed; and "number," which was anyone you had sex with or wanted to have sex with. Then there was "dish," which meant talking trash about someone; "gorgeosity," which meant he or she was simply stunning; "mop," which meant to steal something; "cruise," which was trying to meet someone for sex; "knocks," which was to get a beating from a guilty sex partner; and many more.

Of course, some of these words are common today, but keep in mind they originated as gay words many years before mainstream, straight America knew about them. I even made up a word that is mainstream today and has been for many years—the word "whacko" or "whack job" or "oh, he is whacked."

The local wise guys, who didn't see our scene for what it really was, had their own meaning of whacked.

The downtown area was so packed at night that you could get lost in the hustle and bustle. If a friend or family member saw you, well, you were just shopping or going to a movie or to dinner. We even had our own female fans who hung out with us and lent normality to our group. It was a great cover for people who needed anonymity. the cast of characters was amazing as well.

The Waldorf Cafeteria was the big haunt back then. The place was cheaply...