Swan Song of the Chute Complex
The first gay bar I ever visited was in New York City many, many years ago. It was a place in the village called "Nuts and Bolts." I remember it as a warm, friendly, cozy, little place where the beer was cold. I don't know what happened to it, but that was my initiation. After that first time, it was many months before I darkened the door of any other gay bar. Probably the third or fourth was a place called the Chute Complex in Nashville, TN. Alas, this bar is closing. This weekend. Sure, I have many memories of the Chute and the people I met there. And, looking back on things, I would have even more memories if there never existed something called a "beer blast." Lots of the memories revolved around good conversation with friends in the "Silver Stirrup" piano bar component of the complex or karaoke in the "main stage" section. Oh, and there were some cute guys from time to time.
When I lived in Nashville, the gay community congregated in different venues all over town. Now, the city seems to be getting its own "gayborhood." I'm not sure if that's good or bad, but for the short term, it is at worst an experiment worth trying in Tennessee.
I have written a letter to the owner, offering best wishes on what must be a sad occasion. I haven't yet heard from him, but I hope he writes back before long. Cheers to Papa (Don) and all the other fine folks I have met through the Chute. Drive safely.
When I lived in Nashville, the gay community congregated in different venues all over town. Now, the city seems to be getting its own "gayborhood." I'm not sure if that's good or bad, but for the short term, it is at worst an experiment worth trying in Tennessee.
I have written a letter to the owner, offering best wishes on what must be a sad occasion. I haven't yet heard from him, but I hope he writes back before long. Cheers to Papa (Don) and all the other fine folks I have met through the Chute. Drive safely.
posted by Michael Vernon at Wednesday, July 25, 2007
1 Comments:
Dear Mr. Dinwiddie,
Thank you for your note of concern regarding the closing of our establishment. We appreciate you taking the time to express your condolences. We’re sorry to hear you have moved away from the Nashville area and will be unable to attend our closing weekend gala. The event, although sad, will be a celebration of our history.
Now that we’ve dispensed with the pleasantries, there are a few points from your letter we wish to address. Mr. Dinwiddie, we regret that we will not be allowed to fulfill your request of having “that there table in the west corner” dismantled and mailed to you, no matter how much time you say you spent there or how much cash you claim to have dropped at this bar over the years. Also, we will be unable to FedEx you copies of the keys so that you may use the building as a vacation getaway when you visit the South. Mr. Dinwiddie, this building will be razed to make way for the new Barbara Mandrell Dinner Barn. A new chain in this area, the Barbara Mandrell Dinner Barns offer down-home cooking, friendly staff, an atmosphere reminiscent of simpler times and the occasional, surprise singing appearance by the talented Ms. Mandrell herself! So, you can imagine this is bittersweet as we are saddened by the loss of our watering hole but elated at the thought of getting to see an antique butter churn mounted to the wall and eating corn on the cob while listening to “I Was Country When Country Wasn’t Cool” LIVE! Having said all that, we’re quite puzzled as to why you would ever think we would consider sending you keys to any lock in our possession.
You made one final request in your letter, Mr. Dinwiddie. We will not, as you asked, be asking our patrons to drop their names into a fish bowl for a chance to win an all-expenses-paid trip to NYC and a “Date with Dinwiddie”. You go on to mention that we would be handling the expenses. How is this considered a prize for our customers, Mr. Dinwiddie? We’ve been asking around and a few folks remember you. The mere mention of your name conjures responses such as “troll”, “Silence of the Lambs” and “chicken fried freak”. Apparently, you made quite an impression on a few people during your visits here. The fact that many recall you smelling vaguely of Stetson cologne and coleslaw is reason enough for us to deny your request.
Good luck in your ventures in NYC. We hope that during your next trip to Nashville, you take time to visit the Barbara Mandrell Dinner Barn. You might have better luck there.
All our best.
Staff
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