The Roosterfish was a gay bar on West Washington Boulevard. Actually, it is still is, though I believe it closed and then reopened, and West Washington changed it’s name to Abbot Kinney. I can’t remember what the bar was called in 1972 when Littlejohn and I moved into our tiny cottage on Cabrillo, less than 100 yards away. It certainly wasn’t a gay bar back then. Since our block of Cabrillo would begin to fill up with USPS trucks in the afternoon, we assumed that the postmen who had finished their routes early would stop in and drink away the spare hours until it was time to punch out.

We were certainly pleasantly surprised when it opened as a gay bar, with a name that was meant to suggest, I was told, that both gay men and lesbians were welcome. I can’t say that it made much of a difference in our lives. It was a sleepy little joint with a regular crowd in the afternoons and weekday evenings and a little more action on the weekends.There was a pool table and I was vaguely interested in learning to play pool but the Roosterfish crowd was way too serious for me. One was expected to call one’s shots (not just the eight ball) and an unintentional double kiss set off whistles and bells. They did have pleasant, but modest, weekend barbecues, but I don’t eat hamburgers or hot dogs, so it was potato salad sandwiches for me.

We moved out of Venice, New Years 87/88, but we rented our house, and then made a couple of quick trips back to sell it in ’91. Imagine my surprise when I walked into the bar and discovered a young surfer dude I knew sitting at the bar with an older gentleman. The surfer dude was very friendly but the older man was shooting daggers with his eyes. And then on the weekend the place was jammed; perhaps the hottest gay bar west of West Hollywood, and coming out the door I ran into a neighborhood lad panhandling (ahem…) on the sidewalk.

These 19 photos were taken on two afternoons in 1980, so the are obviously not offered as a retrospective of the bar, but I do think they catch the moment.