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But not hard where you’d like them to be hard. T h e word
ing of Portland City Statute 14.36.010 is pretty vague in a
legalistic way, but it’s commonly understood that although
male strippers can get naked on stage, they cannot get aroused
or simulate sex acts.
Once naked, they also are prohibited from coming into physi
cal contact with customers, or any of the furniture the patrons use,
presumably for health reasons. Because most strippers are inde
pendent contractors and not employees, those who break these
rules— as opposed to the bar itself— risk being fined by the Oregon
Liquor Control Commission.
There are more strings attached— G-strings to be specific.
Because a thong exposes the dancer’s buttocks, by law that quali
fies as nude. To limit the physical contact, tips are supposed to be
slipped into the G-string on the hipbone only.
The dancers take groping in stride. “Most of the
gropers only give a dollar,’’ one dancer tells
me. “I’d have less of a problem if it
were a 10 or a 20.’’
But those regulations are nothing
compared to the house rules posted in
the basement of Silverado, the gay-
owned nightclub across from Jake’s
Famous Crawfish on Stark Street. Imag
ine for a moment being greeted at work
with signs reading: “Wipe your ass and
wash your feet. Deodorant helps, too,” and
“Don’t hunt for pussy.” Suddenly, that
request to wash out your own coffee cup
sounds pretty reasonable by comparison
doesn’t it?
The nightly nudes
ilverado’s dancers perform 10 minutes out of
every hour from 10 p.m. to 2 or 2:30 a.m., so
there’s plenty of time to talk, particularly for
those younger than 21, who’are prohibited
from the barroom floor. Some of the older
dancers refer to the basement as “Romper
Room”; the management even has installed
a Sony PlayStation down there so the Young
and the Restless have something to do
between sets.
Tonight 19-year-old Chance is asking the
DJ to play “I Want to Fuck You in the Ass”
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for his next set. He refuses, not on moral
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grounds but because the song is too slow.
After 9 p.m. the management wants all
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music clocking in at no less than 132 beats
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pier minute.
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“How ’bout ‘Shut the Fuck Up and
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Dance’?” Chance asks.
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“Sure, no problem,” the DJ says.
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Some patrons complain about Silverado’s
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penchant for teen dancers. “Watching the
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young skinny ones makes me feel like a per
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vert,” one guy tells me. “I feel like I should
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be grading their shop projects or buying
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them a sandwich.”
But finding someone willing to dance
nude for tips tends to attract a young talent
pool. Go figure.
A lot of the younger dancers can’t wait to
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turn 21 so they can visit with the customers
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between sets and boost their tips. Some of
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the older dancers, however, think the kids
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have it easier because they tend to attract
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the older, wealthier patrons.
Estimates vary, but a male stripper can
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earn anywhere from $50 to $300 a night in
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tips, which he, not the club, is required to
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report to the government.
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Most start stripping to get out of debt,
and most have day jobs— some you’d expect
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(carpenter, personal trainer, student, house
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cleaner), some you wouldn’t (secretary,
retail store clerk, used-car salesman). Some
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have children to support.
Hanging out in the dressing room of a M M
strip har is definitely as much fun as it
sounds. Raven, an African American
dancer with a smooth hairless gymnast’s
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Warning: Do not read this article if you want to continue viewing
male stn[)f)ers as sex objects without lives, opinions or brains.
rostitutes and drug addicts.
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That’s what comes to mind when you
think of male strippers, isn’t it? I mean,
beyond the thoughts we can’t print here.
Well, I spent countless hours talking
with Portland’s male strippers (that’s just me,
y’know— work, work, work all the time), and what
I discovered definitely will surprise you. In the
immortal words of Donna Summer, these guys work
hard for the money.
body, comes downstairs and strips off his G-string about two feet
from me. Out flops something that looks like a penis, only bigger.
I try to continue asking questions, but my speech becomes random
and disjointed, like I’ve got Tourette’s.
I’m further distracted by the very personable and energetic JR,
a beefy 24-year-old blond who is training for bodybuilding compe
titions. He lets me rifle through his gym bag (have 1 mentioned
how much I love this assignment?), and I pull out a half-dozen
G-strings, each no bigger than a change purse, which 1 suppose is
appropriate considering cash gets stuffed into it.
JR pulls a piece of paper out of his crotch and hands it to me.
It’s from “Zion City” and reads, “It doesn’t matter who you are or
what you’ve done/Jesus died for everyone!”
Another dancer later tells me he’s had
two or three ministers stick their business
cards in his G-string on various occasions,
“hut not without groping me first.”
The guys express a range of views on
doing the full monty. Some think that
nudity should be reserved for special
occasions and that audience attention
wanes after they’ve seen it all; others
contend tips are higher for those
who show what they’ve got. Still
another dancer takes a completely
practical approach: “If it’s cold, I
probably won’t get naked.”
Although I’d say strippers
demonstrate a more positive
sense of body image than your
average person (who can
blame them?), they are still
self-conscious about various
perceived flaws, particular
ly the kind those of us
who work clothed rarely
have to worry about.