Still enjoying the memory of the recent Fresno Philharmonic concert, and reluctant to temper my thoughts or those I have imparted to others with any bit of nostalgia. Nostalgia is tiresome for those without the same set of life experiences, so I typically try to corral recollective thoughts to my own private musings- but one overarching reminiscence refuses to stay penned. Though risking reader ennui, it is this- what a great event it was for Keith and me to attend the Saturday evening concerts of former days, and follow it on with a late supper and (too many) drinks in the Tower District. Often as not, we would repair to that inn of blessed memory the Daily Planet, where our carryings on were always overlooked by Ron waiting tables, Jim at the piano, and the redoubtable Hannah the proprietress. This is starting to suggest Keith and I did at the time enjoy a louche existence, and we did. One evening that stands out was one while in the company of a particularly randy friend of a certain age and with whom we planned to travel to London in the next few days. Amidst the anticipatory rapture of our impending departure, and helped along by a half dozen Manhattans, he asked a younger member of the wait staff if he would like to accompany us, his way paid for by our friend. The young man was taken aback, but regained enough composure to ask Hannah’s advice. She told him in our hearing that he would be a fool not to go. Bless her- while not necessarily sage, she was always the daring one.
Not really trying to out anyone, but so much of what we enjoyed post concert was driven by what nearly any thoughtful person would describe as the Tower District’s gay renaissance of the 80’s and through the 1990’s. With a large gay population in the Tower District and the patronage- and ownership- of so many of the businesses along Olive Avenue, the entire neighborhood blossomed. It was a fun place to live, and there was always something to do, someone to see, and somewhere to go. Even the orchestra concerts, as the raison d’être and critical component of an evening of wonderful fun, are now rather diminished with- trust me in this- very many fewer gay attendees. One of my faculties that still works at full strength is, I say parenthetically, my ample complement of gaydar.
With Keith and me transitioning back into the old burg, the question is now begged- where has everyone gone? I do miss the half closed eyes of the famed ‘nudes on ‘ludes’ mural in the Daily Planet. I have heard rumors that the Painted Table, the catering venue that has taken over the old Daily Planet space, will at some point open for restaurant meals. Believe me, we’ll be there, and we’ll behave- for ten minutes, or until the first round of Manhattans are consumed, whichever comes first.
To relieve those of you on tenterhooks, the young man did not accompany our friend to London. When we returned from abroad and repaired to the Daily Planet some weeks later we found the would-be traveler no longer employed there. When asked his fate, Hannah just rolled her eyes. Potential tragedy averted, perhaps, but it makes for a good story. We look forward to other opportunities in the Tower District to engender many more good stories. Who knows? The flown ‘guppies’ may return.