October 12 at Jacque’s Cabaret, Boston 79 Broadway Street (update: October 25, 2007)
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photo © by Melissa Wells 2005
It’s been frequently said that men go to tranny bars to see the vestiges of femininity. In today’s culture of loud raunchy drunk cursing chest-baring grrls, men have only old movies and t-girl bars to relive the golden days of how women used to be. What people don’t talk about is the equally charming notion that in some of these bars, one can sometimes run into examples of how men used to be. Sweet, kind, considerate, and not always on the make. A quiet sort of masculinity if you will.
I went to Boston recently with a former bandmate drummer to go see the Hives at Cambridge’s Middle East club. (We stopped in at Paradise and had a blast too). Unfortunately, there was a night when he and I had to part ways because Dave held the last ticket to a rock concert. I, left alone, decided to stop in on the infamous Jacque’s Cabaret on 79 Broadway, off the Boston Commons.For those of you who aren’t aware the trans-friendly city of Boston is also a progressive city in transgender issues. Massachussett is home to one of the longest running transgender magazines in the country Tapestry. And the city is also home to the excellent transgender website URNOTALONE, run by Bostonian natives Jon and Vicky.
For years, I have heard about Jacque’s Cabaret. Somehow I was either with friends who wanted to go but had one too many, or at other times, with friends who had one too many, then forgot where we were supposed to go. I must say that I had the preconception that Jacque’s was going to be like New York City’s Lips, a place that is well known for loud raunchy cursing barrel-chested bachelorettes holding their last stomp about town.
Jacque’s, was actually quite civilized. Upon entering at the corner entrance tucked behind the Radisson on Stuart St., the space looks like any other bar. A quaint watering hole near the front, and a semi-circular stage towards the back.
I arrived early and sat myself at the front bar for a few quick ones. The bartender (I believe his name is Bob) was cordial and good conversation. Unfortunately, I was in transit to a dance club known as Machine to reunite with my traveling sidekick after his show finished. So I spent only an hour or so at Jacque’s, afraid to wander into the nether regions without any male protection.
Some reason or another, I always attract the wrong sort of attention at Trans bars.
Not this night. I stayed put, kept the conversation going, and eventually several men at the bar attempted to convince me that sauntering over to Machine by foot (2.1 miles) was sheer madness. I was thinking Dave Attell Insomniac, but I guess I kinda forgot I don’t look like Dave Attell.
I did ask for Jon and Vicky, and was told they usually showed their faces around on a Saturday night. By then, I started talking to a gent with a sad face and kind eyes. (I think his name was Bill).
He convinced me that I should not undertake a walk to Machine on my own. So he finally hailed a cab and deposited me inside and sent me off.
Ladies and gentleman, it is debatable that the transgirls in Boston look different from the ones here in New York City. But I can attest this much: New York City men in transbars men simply do NOT do this sort of courteous thing.
So my limited review of Jacque’s is this: It’s everything you thought a Boston club should be.
Bostonians who go to Jacque’s, if you see a lonesome fellow with the wistful storylines around his face, please let him know Pristine (from www.d332.com) said hi and thanks for his concern.
He was right. I could not have done that walk.
But it was sure nice to see men the way they used to be.