Bar-hopping With John Waters
Chapter One
It was the early 90's and I was at an art event at the Copy Cat. It's a huge run-down old warehouse with a very small rusty elevator that can barely fit 4 people at once. The creepy elevator never dimished the "coolness" of the place. It just added to the mystique. It was a place where Baltimore artists lived and worked. Where only the "coolest of the cool" hung out. I went there all the time for about 9 years. One night the Copy Cat was having this amazing mixed-media showcase of astonishing works by top Baltimore area artists, mostly M.I.C.A. alumni students. Live bands were playing on every floor. The place was several stories high and I was circling floor to floor. A nocturnal butterfly with wine glass in hand flitting about enthusiastically. Steadily schmoozing along, ogling art for several hours. I was still young and had plenty of energy then. I miss having that kind of energy. Talking and having fun surrounded by incredibly fascinating people and compelling art. Now I get tired early and have to go home to bed and curl up in my blanket as if I'm a 2 year old. Isn't it funny how getting old is almost like reverting to your infancy? You go bald and need your naps or you get really cranky.
So there I was; at the Copy Cat art show in my early 20's. Taking all the wonderment of the Baltimore Art scene in. I was studying an abstract, welded, metal, found-object, sculpture in the middle of the gallery I really was impressed with. Then, I started chatting with this nice guy standing next to me looking at the same piece. He was black-suited, slick and elegant with a thin moustache just above his upper lip. This tall, lanky, distinguished looking fellow; in a French bohemian sort of way, was fun to talk to and made me laugh. He was witty, smart and very sure of himself. But not overly conceited, pretentious or arrogant which is behavior I detest in anyone. My 20-something brain told me he was pretty chill for an older guy. He told me about his childhood putting on puppet shows for the local children in the neighborhood and I said,"Aww that's so sweet! I used to do the same thing in my neighborhood as a kid! I did magic tricks for the kids." He laughed and he said," Well the kind of puppet shows I did kind of scared the children." And I responded with surprise, "No way!?" I said with a dramatic flick of the wrist in his direction. As if I couldn't believe it. He laughed and looked at me with one eye-brow raised, his head slightly tilted and a smirk that reminded me of something my grandfather used to do that instantly made me smile and he replied, "Yea it's true." That's when I became beyond curious. I asked, "What kind of things did you do?! "Still in sheer amazement that he was motivated to perform at such a young age. I thought perhaps he was a child prodigy and how kind of him to do shows for children and yet in such a rebellious way. He seemed to be implying that they were even slightly twisted!
I needed to know what these puppet shows that scared the neighborhood children were all about. His reply was purposefully vague with a cute and coy dramatic pause," Ohhh I don't know... they (meaning the puppets) would hack each other up and say and do terrible things to each other." Suddenly, I didn't know if the guy standing in front of me was just a creative genius or a mad sociopath! I still didn't even know his name or who he was! I think he could tell I was a little uncomfortable because we both got very quiet. To break the silence he asked me what I did. I told him I did S&M drag king performance art and my stage name was Devin Hellfire. That's when he smiled this huge wide grin and nodded enthusiastically.
Chapter Two
My new friend was telling me about strange puppet shows he used to perform for neighborhood children. As he described it (the puppets) would," Hack each other up and say terrible things to each other." I was a bit concerned after hearing that. I didn't know if standing next to me was a completely absurd creative genius or mad man. He could tell I was slightly freaked. That's when things got real quiet. After several minutes of silence he asked me what I did.
I really hate talking about my work unless it's right in front of me. Ideally hanging on a wall. Otherwise, it's hard. It's visual art. It's meant to be seen. Words never seem to give it justice. Imagine trying to explain your artwork to someone who has never seen a single thing you've ever done. Most people have a hard time understanding what it is I actually do. It's easy to see on their faces how they're perplexed , befuddled or just pretending to understand. I've learned that when I am in Baltimore people usually really don't give a shit about my work and discount me entirely as some low-life junkie loser artist stereotype without ever seeing my work or my resume.
When in New York City things are different. All I need to say is, "I'm an artist." Most people get enthusiastic. You can see genuine interest in their smiling faces. Faces lighting up eagerly awaiting for me to use large, provocative, evoking words and artistic jargon. Flamboyantly throwing in the words juxtaposition, composition and perspective in, here and there. These folks make a real effort to visualize my work and what it is I do and that always makes me feel very welcome and respected where ever I go.
In Baltimore it's totally different talking about my work. Most people don't really care. So, when this guy from Baltimore asked me ."What do you do?" I just brushed through my answer quickly and said I was a multi-media performance artist and I had just got back from doing a show in New York City. Expecting him to change the subject. When his face earnestly lit up! That almost never happens in Baltimore! That's when I got excited!
He asked me many questions. We discussed New York City contemporary art and the under ground night life there. I told him how I was a bdsm drag king performer at The Vault and he said," I'm interested in those sorts of things too." I could tell he really meant it and wasn't just trying to come on to me. This guy was definably cool shit and I was really enjoying our talk. Quite often schmoozing can be boring as hell. But I enjoyed talking to this elegant and intelligent man. Unfortunately, that's when I realized I had been neglecting my friends whom I came to with. So I politely excused myself. I thanked him for the conversation and said my goodbyes to this uniquely refreshing man. I walked away to get another glass of wine and be with my friends.
As I walked over to them. Their mouths were hanging open and I said,"What?" In a Vinny Barbarino kind of way. I really can't help it when my accent slips out occasionally being a 4th generation Italian-American. They laughed and said I had been talking to Baltimore film maker John Waters. I said," No way!"looked back again at him with sobering eyes and said,"Oh my god, you're right."
They insisted I go back over there and talk to him some more. Suddenly I was feeling shy and embarrassed. I had only been living in Baltimore for 5 Years. I'd moved to Baltimore to attend MICA in 1987. Before that I was living in New Haven, Connecticut with my Photography Professor Tim Feresten and his wife Nancy. Tim had introduced me to my first John Water's film in 1986, "Pink Flamingos." I immediately became a huge fan of his work but had no idea what he looked like. I couldn't believe that A) I had actually met him B) I hadn't realized it was him!
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Chapter Three
A Night At The Hour Haus
I met John Water's at an event at the Copy Cat Building one night in the mid 90's.
The following week I thought about my encounter with John more and realized something. He must've enjoyed that I treated him just like anyone else and not some famous person. It was probably refreshing for him, my not acting like some star struck fan. Something which must get tiring for famous people. I promised myself the next time I saw him I would talk with him just as I had done before. Just be myself like I had been with him at the party before I knew who he really was. Not to ever think of myself as inferior to him in any way in order to over come my shyness. It's always been that fame thing that segregates many artists from one another, much like classism. I would be sure not to ever allow that to happen. I firmly believe that an emerging artist's work should never be negated by a more well-known artist. All good art should be judged on merit alone. That night after finding out who he was insecurities about my not being a "good enough artist" fueled my inhibition and prevented me from socializing with a man who clearly enjoyed talking with me. He was a fellow Baltimore artist and someone I admired and could learn a great deal from. I vowed never to let "the fame thing" interfere again.
I saw him again at another Baltimore art and music event a few months later. This time at the Hour Haus one night the same year. I boldly went over to where he was standing to say hello. I figured he probably wouldn't remember me but took the chance anyway. He was speaking with Landis Expandis an old high school friend of mine from the Educational Center for the Arts in New Haven, Connecticut. Landis was also a member of the band The Almighty Senators which was playing there that night. I stood there and listened to the two of them discussing music and art patiently waiting until they were done. I didn't want to interrupt. When they both stopped talking and noticed me standing there I hugged Landis and said hello to him and then shook John's hand and told him that I was a fan of his work. More specifically I told him I really understood the concepts behind his film Female Trouble which had a drag king as the main character. That was when he said he remembered me from the Copy Cat party! I couldn't believe he remembered me! I was happily surprised but tried to contain myself and be cool about it as not to embarrass myself. That was when Landis smiled and said he had to go because his band was going on soon and he said goodbye to both of us and ran off.
John and I spoke briefly about my days working as a drag king domme at the infamous Vault in New York City. The Vault was a well-known underground BDSM nightclub. The same club that Madonna's Sex Book was shot in. There's even a picture in her book of her sitting in the very same leather chair that I (or my clients) had sat in numerous times while I was working. This story about a very small chapter in my life made us both giggle and seemed to peak John's interest in me more. I spoke a little more about my days working as a drag king at The Pyramid, Meow Mix and The Clit Club. He said he wanted to hear more but unfortunately he had to leave so he gave me his card and told me to call him.
After John left the Hour Haus I left the front room where the art show was to go upstairs to where the bands were playing. On the top floor it was loud, crowded and dark. People were jam-packed in there with virtually no room to dance. I had to stand on top of a radiator with my back to the wall just to see the band play. The room was filled with thick smoke and sweat. I suddenly wished I had left with John.
I was very shy so I never had the courage to call him. Then as luck would have it; I was at The Hippo one night performing in drag as headlining act Devin Hellfire when I saw Mr. Waters sitting across the room in the saloon part of the crowded bar.
Chapter Four
Mr. Hellfire & John Meet Again. This Time At Club Hippo.
I had just finished doing my final set on stage and was having a beer in the saloon part of the nightclub. My head was still spinning from the smoke machine, red laser and strobe light show and dance routine I had choreographed with the lighting and sound man for my performance earlier. I always perform sober and I was done for the night. The stage lights seemed extra hot tonight and my costume was sticking to me as if it were a second skin. I was wearing big black shiny patent leather boots with a 2 inch thick heel, skin tight black leather pants, knee pads with my bullet belt and favorite faux leopard fur vest that I had sewn & designed myself. My sweat was mingling with a black go-T and mutton chops glued on with spirit gum. The a/c in this part of the club felt really nice compared to the other side which was wall-to-wall around 500 people. Bright lights and stupid people. Not something I was in the mood for tonight. Now, the people I was sitting next to in the saloon were annoying me too. I was going to finish my beer and just go home.
That's when I saw him. Sitting there, across the bar wearing his traditional, classy, black and white suit. He must have one for every day of the week. Drinking a drink that was half-empty with an awful lot of ice in it. The blank expression on his face as he stared into his drink told me he was either bored or sad. I looked to see if anyone sitting next to him was talking to him as a sign of whether or not he was alone or with friends. No one was even looking at him! I told my acquaintance sitting in the stool next to me, "That's John Waters over there. Do you see him?" And she said," No way." And I said, "No, that's definitely him." She looked again and said, "Wait you're right! Wow." Then her and her friends (whom I didn't know at all) began ogling him and whispering to each other like school girls. I elbowed them a little and said, "Yea, I met him once before and he gave me his number but I never called." They of course didn't believe me and laughed at me," John Waters gave you his number, yea right!" and they laughed some more. Suddenly I felt like I was in high school again, getting teased by the "popular" kids.
"Oh. You don't believe me? OK. Fine. I'll just walk right over there and talk to him now!" They laughed more and dared me," Go ahead." I slammed my drink down. With my anger giving me the courage to overcome my shyness. I got up shaking off the negativity from those unpleasant people and walked around the bar across to where he was seated. I took a deep breath and when I was standing next to him, simply said, "Hi." He turned and looked at me and said," Hello." Then I said," I saw you from across the room and my friends over there didn't believe me when I told them you were John Waters." and I chuckled in disbelief shaking my head while looking downward." He said," Really?!" and then he laughed a little too. I asked," So what brings you here to the Hippo tonight?" He said," I don't know. Every time I come here, no one ever talks to me. I hate it." I sympathized with him," I've been coming here for 10 years, I'm a headlining act and no one ever talks to me either!" and then we both laughed. Then I said," You don't remember me do you?" He said," No, I'm sorry. I meet a lot of people." And I said, "That's o.k. It was about 2 or 3 years ago and I wasn't in costume and make up like I am now." And then he said," Wait! Oooh yes, I remember who you are now! You're the drag king from New York City? And I said, lol yes that's right! At your humble service Sir." and I bowed a little. "But, I'm not from New York. I just perform there a lot. I live here." He said," Ahh I see. I have a house here and an apartment in New York." I said," That makes sense. I'd do that too if I could afford it." He nodded," Do you want to get out of here?" I was surprised and my face gave it away. He reassured me," I have my limo right out front. We can go anywhere." Then I said, "Hmm gee let me think." Then he said how about a biker bar? You're certainly dressed for it. I know this great biker bar we could go have a few beers at." I got excited about that idea because I was raised by bikers so I said," Yes! Let's do it!"
Chapter Five
Bike Baby In A Big Black Limousine
He paid his bill and we walked out of The Hippo together. It was almost comical watching the looks on peoples faces as we left the bar together. Especially the ones who had laughed at me before. We stepped outside from the hot club into the clean and crisp air of night and walked over to the black limo parked right in front of my old friend the Club Hippo. He opened the door for me and I got in. Went around the back of the car and slid in on the drivers side behind the wheel, turned on the ignition and as we pulled away he looked over at me and grinned, "And away we go!" In the side view mirror I watched the big neon pink Hippo wave goodbye.
Being in John Water's big black Limousine was both fun and a bit intimidating. Well, however intimidating the limo was I knew we were headed to a cool place among my childhood tribe. The nationwide working class biker family. My Stepfather Salvador and my Mom his old lady having been members of the infamous Hell's Angel's of Bridgeport, Connecticut from 1974 until 1977 until that fateful day when Sal was murdered by some scumbag. He was shot in the back while leaving the bar one afternoon when I was only 7 Years old. I still can't get the picture of his body laying on the side walk pavement in broad daylight, a white sheet draped over him and his big black biker boots sticking out from underneath the sheet. Even in death he was tall.
My Mom and I moved to a safe neighborhood closer to were my Grandparents lived in West Haven, CT. to get away from the poverty and violence. West Haven was a nice small New England town where no one gets shot and killed and everyone's Daddy wears a suit and tie.
On the limo ride to the bar we headed to north eastern Baltimore. A part of town I'd never been to. We were mostly quiet. John kept trying to do some respectful chit chat but I was pre-occuppied with memories of sitting in my Father's big strong arms feeling safe watching people shoot pool and listening to big black flat petroleum based spinning objects that made sweet angelic noise we called records back then.
I'm sitting in the big black car with John Waters and Mick Jagger is on my mind," Well my love is bigger than a Cadillac" With memories of sitting on a beat up old black leather couch with the smell of leather mingling with the smell of marijuana as I sat on Sal's lap. I looked over at John and smiled, "He said, You look good with a beard." I laughed," Thank you." I felt I could trust him. He seemed so sincere and real. I thought about the childhood trauma of losing my father to a gun man and how angry Peurtorican chicks with knives used to attack my mother in the streets when we walked to the grocery store when I was 5. I reassured myself that this wasn't going to happen now. Sitting safely with John, a man I greatly admired on black leather car seats in a big black boat on wheels cutting through the night. I was happy. Even if I was feeling a little shy and nervous. As we pulled up to the humble beginnings of Baltimore biker bar memorabilia for me the lyrics,"".... and I feel fine ..." from a Beatles song popped into my head. I turned and looked at John and smiled. He smiled back and I knew I'd be fine.