Will The Last Gay Bar In Laguna Beach Please Turn Out The Lights?

The bungalow at Pacific Coast Highway and Cress Street used to be a happy hour beacon in Laguna Beach. Young men holding hands, Will-and-Grace types, the occasional gaggle of curious straights, the random lesbian couple—all would gather on weekends at Woody's at the Beach, a cottage-y gay bar. By midnight, the party would spread down the block to the venerable Boom Boom Room, with its dancing and drag queens, and to Bounce, a smaller joint across the street.
Sometimes neighbors complained. Sometimes tourists gawked and hollered. But the scene, like the town's art galleries and surf shops, was part of the area's character and history. Before Laguna Beach was conjuring images of drama-prone TV teens and oceanfront mansions, it was the city that elected America's first openly gay mayor. Its incidence of AIDS was, for a time, among the highest per capita in the nation. The Boom Boom Room is where Rock Hudson and Paul Lynde and Bette Midler once partied. Woody's, under one owner or another, had been gay for two generations.
The block-long promenade between them was like a miniature West Hollywood in the heart of once-conservative Orange County, and locals insisted the town wouldn't be itself if it went away.
Then the Boom Boom Room was sold to a billionaire with plans to eventually turn the site into a boutique hotel. Within a year, the owners of Woody's got an offer to cash out. A family-owned Mexican restaurant took over the space. Down went the fence that hid the back patio. In came the highchairs. When the new Avila's El Ranchito opened last month, leaving the Boom, as it is locally known, to boom alone into an uncertain future on its side of the highway, the block took on the feel of both a beginning and an ending.
And now, though the margaritas at the new place are both popular and delicious, the talk of the town is what will become of the local gay scene. Or, as a quipster at a coffeehouse put it one recent morning: "Will the last gay man in Laguna please turn out the lights?"
Laguna Beach isn't alone in its evolution. From South Beach to San Francisco, progress and economics are creating similar debates.
Though gay neighborhoods are thriving in some cities—Houston, for example—other, more settled enclaves are changing fast. The Castro district in San Francisco has had to make room for more and more straight families. In West Hollywood, straight college kids have infiltrated gay bars, sometimes by the busload, and one of the biggest concerns is what a city official has termed "heterosexualization."
Matt Foreman, executive director of the National Gay and Lesbian Task Force, has watched the development with mixed feelings. "The loss of these enclaves does hurt and is something to be deeply concerned about," he says.
On the other hand, much of the change is being driven by inexorable forces. The Internet, he explains, has made it less important for gays and lesbians to go to special bars and communities to meet each other. And the once-blighted neighborhoods that were settled by gays—often because they felt unwelcome elsewhere—now are so gentrified, in many cases, that younger people can't afford them.
"Property values go up and straight families move in and gay people move on," Foreman says, "either because they want to capitalize on their investment or simply can't afford to live there anymore."
And underlying it all may be an even bigger factor: the power of acceptance, says UCLA demographer Gary Gates. The post-HIV era and the debate over same-sex marriage, he says, have brought about a major shift in public attitudes and "a fairly big coming-out process."
As a senior research fellow at UCLA's Williams Institute on Sexual Orientation Law and Public Policy, Gates published an analysis of recent U.S. Census data. Between 2000 and 2005, he says, the census showed a 30% increase in the number of same-sex couples, and a big part of the reason appears to be that these couples felt freer to report their existence. In some states in the Midwestern heartland, for example, the increase was as much as 81%.
The data, Gates says, paint a more diverse picture than ever before of the nation's gay and lesbian population—and present a far more diverse map of where they are living. Among other things, the numbers show an apparent out-migration of same-sex couples from gay enclaves such as San Francisco into less expensive suburbs and nearby cities such as San Jose, Oakland and Berkeley.
In Orange County, gay organizations report similar movement: "The gayest town in Orange County is still overwhelmingly Laguna," says Jon Stordahl, vice chair of the board of directors of the Center Orange County, a gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender service organization. "But the second-gayest is Aliso Viejo, a new community just over the hill with more entry-level housing."
Gay night life has changed too, Stordahl says. Though several of the county's gay-only bars have closed in the last year, they have been supplanted by suburban clubs in Orange, Irvine and Costa Mesa that have reached out to their new market with special nights for gay patrons.
"Success comes at a price," he says, "and part of that success is that the old institutions that catered to us because we had no place to go—maybe we don't need so much anymore."
That's slim comfort for Fred Karger, who during a recent lunch hour sat in a booth at what used to be Woody's, eating a chicken quesadilla. No, he is not the last gay man in Laguna—the 2000 census shows only four cities in California with a higher proportion of same-sex households. But he's worried: "You're not going to have people moving in if there's no life here—no gay life."
Karger is a 57-year-old retired marketing and public relations consultant who has split his time between Los Angeles and Laguna Beach for a decade. When word got out last year that the Boom Boom Room might close, he founded an organization called Save the Boom!!! to do something about it. Last month, the group presented the City Council with nearly 6,000 signatures on a petition begging the city to intercede and keep the bar open.
The council expressed sympathy but took no action; the bar is expected to stay in business at least through this summer. The permitting for the new project could take several years, during which he hopes the new owner can be persuaded to keep the Boom Boom Room alive.
Still, Karger and others say, there is more at stake in Laguna Beach than buff guys and cold beers, and it's not a gay-or-straight worry. The fear of too much change too quickly has, in recent years, become a sort of official town motif. As recently as a decade ago, Laguna Beach could regard itself as a bohemian hangout, more Bolinas than Bel-Air. Now when tourists think of the town, they're more likely to picture rich reality-show kids than alternative lifestyles and artists.
The median home price has risen to $1.5 million. Boogie boards make way for Botox parties at the high school's annual silent auction. And the new Lagunans—the ones investing millions of dollars in their tear-down beach shacks—aren't as tolerant of bars in general as were the less uptight old-timers.
Joel Herzer, the former owner of Woody's, says a key reason he decided to sell—aside from his desire to spend more time in Palm Springs, where his partner lives and gay business is thriving—was a push by surrounding homeowners to ban nonresidential parking, which would have profoundly impacted his business.
"People move to this little beach community and say they don't want it to change, and then the first thing they do is try to make it into Mission Viejo," he says.
Thus, Karger's quest to save the granddaddy of Laguna's gay bars—an offbeat one maybe, but then again, his adopted community once was an offbeat place. And when a town like Laguna Beach loses its gay soul, he asks, who'll be left to save it from total straightness?
He pauses as the lunch plates are cleared by a young gay waiter who jokes that he hasn't been to the Boom Boom Room since the days when he'd sneak in as a teenager. In the background, a toddler shouts—"BABABABABA!!"—at his mother and father at the next table.
In the lunch-hour sunshine, it's hard to remember what this place looked like when it was still Woody's, before it became just a nice lunch spot somewhere between where we're going and where we've been.
from West Magazine

Boom Boom Up For Sale?

LAGUNA BEACH - The Boom Boom Room is up for sale, according to a group trying to save the landmark Laguna Beach gay bar from closure.
Only there's one hitch to this real estate venture: The bar's billionaire owner doesn't know about it.
"We're not in real communication with him," said Fred Karger, founder of Save the Boom, a group formed last year to stop the bar's new owner from shuttering it.
Karger said today that his organization is launching a search to find a gay buyer for the scenic beachfront property on Coast Highway. The bar is located inside the 24-room Coast Inn.
Save the Boom said it would reach out to anyone willing to keep the bar in operation – including gay millionaires and celebrities such as Elton John, Ellen DeGeneres and Rosie O'Donnell.
"We will spend as long as it takes, talk to as many people and contact as many companies as we can to try and find a knight in shining armor to come in and save the day," said Karger.
Karger said it's been months since he's talked to property owner, Steven Udvar-Hazy, whose $3.1 billion net worth ranks him among the Top 100 richest Americans, according to the 2006 list published by Forbes. The Beverly Hills businessman, who made his fortune leasing aircraft to airlines, could not be reached for comment this morning.
After buying the exclusive coastal property, Udvar-Hazy reportedly told longtime bar patron Karger that he had plans to convert the Coast Inn into a boutique hotel with half as many rooms. As part of the remodel, the Boom Boom Room – known as one of the most popular gay bars in Southern California – would be closed.
Karger immediately formed Save the Boom. He and other activists petitioned gay neighborhoods for months, eventually logging more than 6,000 signed signatures. The 1,200-page stack of support was presented to city officials last month.
Karger acknowledged that it is "a little unusual" for Save the Boom to seek a buyer for a piece of a property it doesn't own.
But he said the organization's goal isn't about money – it's about saving what they see as a tourist destination and a vital part of the city's history. Former Laguna Beach Mayor and Boom Boom supporter, Bob Gentry, agrees.
"Laguna Beach would not be Laguna Beach if it were not, in part, for the gay community," stated Gentry, California's first openly gay mayor. "Gay and lesbian visitors have helped to fill the coffers of the city and provide the resources for its safety, its infrastructure, and its identity around the world."
from The Orange County Register

Woody's Loss Hits Home

A lot of anger is being directed at the owner of Woody's restaurant after the revelation that the longtime gay establishment would be turned over to a Mexican restaurant chain on Feb. 3. That's less than two weeks away.
The prospective new operator has reportedly indicated to one person that he will "cater to the community" — and, while it may be wishful thinking that the "community" he refers to will be Laguna's gay community, it's a nice thought.
Some who are angry want to punish Woody's owner by refusing to patronize other establishments he operates.
They are furious that he apparently took no steps to try to find a gay owner to keep the place operating as a gay haven.
The soon-to-be-former owner, Joel Herzer, has responded that he didn't want to launch a public search for a new gay owner because he didn't want to alarm his employees and also because he felt it would be a futile effort.
Herzer points to the year-long effort by the owner of the Boom Boom Room and Coast Inn to find someone in the gay community to take over that location, to no avail.
It would be unrealistic to expect Herzer or any property owner in Laguna Beach not to engage in sound business practices when looking to sell.
Property values in Laguna Beach have gone through the roof, and it's very difficult to find someone with deep pockets who wants to serve a relatively small segment of Laguna Beach.
The new owner of the Boom Boom Room and Coast Inn reportedly has big plans for the spectacular ocean-view property, and the Boom Boom Room will have to go.
Somehow, the sudden demise of cozy little Woody's — remembered by many as "Little Shrimp" — has hit people harder than the long-drawn-out death of the legendary nightspot where Rock Hudson held court.
It's as if a safety net for gays in Laguna and beyond has been pulled away. It's a stab in the tender heart of a community that has survived many hard times — including having the highest per capita incidence of AIDS and HIV in the nation.
Optimists point out that the climate for gays and lesbians has changed, and, in the New Millennium, gays and straights mix together as never before.
The social segregation that many of the older generation grew up with and take for granted has been all but erased by a new generation that doesn't see what the big deal is in being straight or gay.
Still, it's very hard to give up a longtime security blanket, and intimate, friendly Woody's was one.
When Woody's is no more, and an Avila's El Ranchito restaurant is in its place, we'll see if gays feel comfortable there or not. We doubt you'll see same-sex couples holding hands and openly flirting.
The fact is that Laguna Beach is fast losing its status as a sanctuary for the gay community — and that is sad.
from The Coastline Pilot

Upscale Gay Laguna Eatery To Close

LAGUNA BEACH, CALIFORNIA - Woody's at the Beach – a popular upscale gay bar and bistro in South Laguna – will close next month and hand over its keys to Orange County-based Avila's El Ranchito.
Woody's managing partner Joel Herzer said in a statement posted on the restaurant's Web site that he has sold the seaside property to the Mexican food chain. The restaurant will be Avila's seventh in Orange County.
"This was a difficult decision to make," Herzer said in the Wednesday memo. "I would like to express our sincere thanks for all the support and patronage we've had from the community."
The Laguna Beach restaurant had earned a reputation as one of the city's most trendy eateries. The 2007 Zagat Survey for Orange County called the gay establishment "a laid-back Laguna local tradition" that served dependable California fare and the best martinis in town.
On Thursday, Herzer said he is not closing Woody's because of a downturn in business. Instead, he decided to sell the 7,500-square-foot property so he can focus on two other restaurants he operates in Palm Springs.
"It's more of a quality-of-life issue for me," he said.
Herzer said he put out feelers last year that the coastal property was for sale. However, the only serious takers were the Avilas, he said.
He said he's happy to hand the parcel over to a family-run chain.
Herzer, who has been active over the years in promoting Laguna Beach as a gay destination, could not provide an exact date for the restaurant's closure. He expects the property to change hands in February.
The closing comes on the heels of troubles at another gay landmark in Laguna Beach. Last year, news of the impending demise of the Boom Boom Room triggered a battle to keep that gay bar open. In the summer, the bar got a break from its landlord, negotiating a lease extension through September 2007. The bar is inside the 24-room Coast Inn.
In May 1995, Laguna Beach's oldest gay dinner club, Little Shrimp, closed its doors after 31 years.
When longtime Woody's and Boom Boom Room patron Fred Karger heard about the restaurant's closure, he said he contacted the new owners immediately. Karger, a 10-year Laguna resident, founded the Save the Boom organization last year.
"My first concern was would it (Avila's) be a gay establishment," Karger said.
He said a member of the Avila family told him the Mexican eatery will cater to the local community. The Avilas could not be reached for comment Thursday.
In his memo, Herzer said he will "leave a part of his life behind" when he shuts down Woody's next month. "Thank you again for the privilege of becoming part of your lives."
El Ranchito opened its first restaurant in Huntington Park in 1966. Six of its eight restaurants are in Orange County.
from The Orange County Register

Boom Boom Room Supporters Still Aim To Save Bar

It was the mid-1980s, and Michael Sanchez hadn't told his friends or family that he was gay because he feared a backlash.
In fact, he went to great lengths to keep his secret, even dating friends of his sister, Lauren.
During summers spent vacationing in Newport Beach, Sanchez would hang out with friends until midnight and then leave alone to spend time at the one place where he felt safe coming out gay publicly: the Boom Boom Room in Laguna Beach.
"It gave me so much confidence and such a boost for my self-esteem," says Sanchez, 41, a Los Angeles resident. "It gave me a positive example of people who were successful, in solid relationships and dating, and it gave me a sense of what being gay really means."
So when Sanchez learned this past summer that the historic bar was set to close, he was shocked, saying it felt like he was losing a friend. The Coast Inn, in which the bar is located, had been sold in 2005, and the lease for the bar was not extended.
"It made me sad that it wasn't going to be there for other people, whether they are young and coming out, or for the gay community, which really loves that place," says Sanchez. "It's like losing a part of myself and that history."
Fortunately, the Boom Boom Room was given a 12-month reprieve this summer, when the new owners of the property extended its lease through September 2007, but the bar's supporters have not given up their fight to keep the Boom permanently open.
"It's the anchor in the neighborhood, so the ideal is to keep it the way it is – because it's not just another club or hotel, it's a landmark," says Laguna Beach resident Fred Karger, who founded Save The Boom to oppose the proposed demolition of the property.
The group has started a Web site and a blog, created a nonprofit to fundraise and alerted the media, resulting in news stories across the country.
They've collected signatures from supporters and so far have about 5,600, which they plan to deliver to the Laguna Beach City Council after the newly elected members are sworn in.
"We're hopeful that it will be around forever," says Karger, who describes it as the oldest gay bar in the western United States.
Karger began frequenting the Boom Boom Room in 1973 when he lived in Los Angeles and says he was drawn by the way the bar and Laguna Beach embraced same-sex couples long before it was acceptable to be gay.
For many, it became a symbol of gay and lesbian acceptance, a place where people could go without being judged or criticized.
"It was a place where we could go and be together and feel comfortable," says Sanchez. "I can't express how important that is especially for gay men. You're just always aware of everyone and everything around you, asking, 'Is someone going to say something?' "
Without the Boom Boom Room, Sanchez doesn't think he would have had the courage to tell his family and friends that he was gay, as he did in 1986 at age 21.
He vividly recalls a conversation he had at the bar with a patron named Jim, a psychotherapist who gave Sanchez advice about coming out of the closet.
"I was terrified, but he said, 'Be true to yourself. That's all you can do,' " says Sanchez. "It gave me the strength to understand that being gay is not wrong. There are so many other people who I met who were just like me and had gone through the same experience that I went through. Hearing their histories and life stories, it just made it easier for me when I had to tell my friends and family."
With the confidence he gained from his new friends, Sanchez says he first disclosed that he was gay to his sister Lauren, who today is a Los Angeles television news anchor for KCOP/13.
"Her first words were 'I love you no matter what,' " says Michael Sanchez, who serves as his sister's manager and recently became her son's godfather as well. "She has been my biggest supporter and my best friend ever since I came out. We were close before, but afterward we became even closer."
Like Karger, Sanchez wants the Boom Boom Room to be kept intact at the Coast Inn, but if not, hopes at the very least that it's moved to another location and preserved.
"I remember sitting at the bar, meeting new friends and feeling like 'I have a place to go.' You never knew what was going to happen, whether you would meet new friends or run into old friends," says Sanchez. "It was a sense of 'I belong here.' "
from The Orange County Register / Yvette Cabrera