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Everard Baths (NYC)
‘No one knows exactly how many men were inside the Everard Baths in the early morning hours of Wednesday, May 25, 1977. Maybe there were 80 to 100, as the building owner estimated later. Maybe there were more. Tuesday night was a big night at the baths, and many of the men would have rented one of the 135 tiny cubicles for $7 for 12 hours, or just a locker for $5. They would have been hanging out in the steam room or the sauna, grabbing something to eat from the snack shop in the lobby, swimming laps in the heavily chlorinated pool in the basement, getting a massage, smoking a joint, buying drugs from the attendant on the third floor, or having sex on a bed in one of the private cubicles or the big, communal L-shaped dormitory, also known as the orgy room. But by the time the fire engines came wailing down 28th Street around 7 a.m., nine men — trapped inside a building with blocked-up windows and no fire escapes — would not make it out alive.

‘In his memoir City Boy: My Life in New York During the 1960s and 1970s, Edmund White remembers the Everard as “filthy … It didn’t have the proper exits or fire extinguishers, just a deep, foul-smelling pool in the basement that looked infected.” And Rumaker describes seeing a naked man who looked uncomfortable lying in his cubicle: “In spite of his display of nudity and the knuckle-whitened hand clenched at his crotch, he appeared, from the tension in his face, in no way to be awaiting some delightful erotic occurrence. If anything, he looked afraid of getting beaten up, or murdered — not uncommon fears in the backs of the minds of most gay males. But here that seemed, though not impossible, at least less likely to occur than elsewhere.”‘

 

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Club Echangiste Louis Poirson (France)
‘Another libertine club victim of too severe administrative rules. After several warnings and hefty fines, the manager had no other solution than to close his establishment in 2008. You are certainly not aware of it, but these places, with light mores, are subject to several rules that must be observed.

‘The rule that this club too often neglected and which ultimately sentenced it to death was a failure to comply with the maximum quota of people allowed in orgy. Indeed, since 1998, the state has limited this practice to 8 people. In the past, several cases of fatal suffocation prompted the administration to respond. Too many people in an orgy can lead to a lack of oxygen and breathing.’

 

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Sewers of Paris (Hollywood)
1969-1976

 

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Plato’s Retreat (NYC)
‘Opened in 1977, Plato’s Retreat held court in the basement of the then-crumbling Beaux Arts Ansonia Hotel on Broadway and West 74th Street.

‘Management laid out strict rules: No gay men, couples only (though women could have sex with each other), no drugs, no booze.

‘Celebrities indulged in orgies with regular joes and janes from the suburbs. A “mat room” was for exhibitionist sex. Clothes were optional. Guests could bump uglies in the disco, the Jacuzzi, and the huge swimming pool.

‘Of course, it wouldn’t last long. In 1980, Plato’s Retreat moved out of the Ansonia to a much bigger space at 509 West 34th Street. Owner Larry Levenson went to prison for tax evasion in 1981.

‘And then AIDS hit the city. Mayor Koch ordered the health department to shut down gay bathhouses as well as straight sex clubs like Plato’s Retreat. By 1985, it was over.’

 

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Unknown (Wales)
‘Due to the nature of the place the history of it is a bit hard to come by as it was shrouded in secrecy. Even the members weren’t allowed to talk about what went on here.’

 

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Tweedland Gentlemen’s Club (London)
‘The Cleveland Street scandal occurred in 1889, when a homosexual male brothel in Cleveland Street, Fitzrovia, London, was discovered by police. At the time, sexual acts between men were illegal in Britain, and the brothel’s clients faced possible prosecution and certain social ostracism if discovered. It was rumoured that one client was Prince Albert Victor, who was the eldest son of the Prince of Wales and second-in-line to the British throne, though this rumour has never been substantiated. The government was accused of covering up the scandal to protect the names of any aristocratic patrons.

‘Another client was said to be Lord Arthur Somerset, an equerry to the Prince of Wales. Both he and the brothel keeper, Charles Hammond, managed to flee abroad before a prosecution could be brought. The male prostitutes, who also worked as telegraph messenger boys for the Post Office, were given light sentences and no clients were prosecuted. After Henry James FitzRoy, Earl of Euston, was named in the press as a client, he successfully sued for libel. The British press never named Prince Albert Victor, and there is no evidence he ever visited the brothel, but his inclusion in the rumours has coloured biographers’ perceptions of him since.

‘The scandal fuelled the attitude that male homosexuality was an aristocratic vice that corrupted lower-class youths. Such perceptions were still prevalent in 1895 when the Marquess of Queensberry accused Oscar Wilde of being an active homosexual.

‘HISTORICAL NOTES: In 1889, the year in which this scandal takes place, it is legal for girls aged 12 and boys aged 14 to marry (with parental consent). Most people started work at the age of 6 (or younger) to help support their families and men had a life expectancy of just 40-45 years of age. Male homosexuality was illegal and punishable, if convicted of buggery, to penal servitude for life or for any term of not less than ten years. The death penalty for buggery had only recently been abolished in 1861.’

 

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Bolero (Switzerland)
‘Bolero club is a sauna/swingers club. We provide a private atmosphere where you can mix and mingle with other swingers from all around the world. Come and be adventurous.’

 

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Basic Plumbing (Seattle)
‘David Meinert, the indefatigable restaurant and music impresario behind the 5 Point Cafe in Belltown and Big Mario’s on E. Pike, is teaming up with the similarly indefatigable Jason Lajeunesse (Capitol Hill Block Party and a partner in Big Mario’s) on a new 24-hour diner for Capitol Hill.

‘The location is the building that currently houses Basic Plumbing, a gay bathhouse on 10th Avenue, around the corner from The Comet tavern and next to Elliott Bay Cafe. “The layout will be very similar to the 5-Point,” Meinert tells Eater. “The menu will be the same: big portions, stiff drinks.”

‘Basic Plumbing wasn’t like other bathhouses where you disrobed and walked around in a towel or nothing at all. Quite the contrary, you just walked around and around and around and around in semi-darkness wearing the clothes you came in with.

‘The labyrinth-like rooms and pathways were all situated on one floor. Along one corridor are a series of short stalls; I’m assuming this area was perfect for gay midgets or men who simply wanted to have a seat on their knees. I seem to remember a lounge area where you can surf the web or purchase a soft drink.’

 

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Swingers Tiki Palace (Chattanooga)
‘Tiki Palace in Chattanooga, Tennessee, hosted hundreds of seedy sex parties after it was built in the 1970s but it was abandoned after the owner Billy Hull was jailed for murder.’

 

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Club Sex Alcatraz (Prague)
‘Alcatraz was actually two venues: a typical Czech pub (but with a gay clientele) and underneath a gay sex club, particularly popular with the leather and uniform crowd. Although to some eyes the place could seem a bit rough, it was well liked due to its lack of attitude and overall friendliness. The sex club was well equipped with dark rooms, video cabins and various other speciality rooms. Many locally produced porn movies were shot in its location. They had naked parties every Sunday. There was a modest entrance fee.’

 

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Utopia (Staffordshire)
‘Dom Jennings, 29, from Stoke-on-Trent, has visited dozens of old buildings, including Utopia – an old swingers club in Staffordshire – and began taking pictures of the sites as a hobby during lockdown. While exploring the venue he came across a salt bath, caged rooms, membership forms of those who visited the club, stilettos, wigs and BDSM apparatus.

Utopia was closed in 2007, and boasted a swimming pool, jacuzzi and sauna room along with a host of private rooms for guests to enjoy each others company in. ‘It was really creepy to walk around, the whole place was falling down and I could see all these different X-rated rooms, god knows what went on here.

”I stumbled across wigs, and what I think were sex dungeons, they were little rooms with caged entrances and they looked like jails. I did some research and found the name out, it closed a while ago and at one point caught fire and has been left alone since. I came across a BDSM table which I opted not to touch because of who had probably touched it in the past, the whole place was like a museum to its former self.’

 

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Caligula (Astoria, Queens)
‘An illegal swingers’ club violating health and liquor laws with more than 80 attendees was shut down Sunday by the New York City’s Sheriff’s Office, authorities said. Two organizers and a club patron of Caligula were charged with multiple demeanors, the sheriff’s office said. The location did not have a liquor license or special permit to sell or store alcohol, according to the sheriff’s office. Deputies said they arrived shortly after midnight on Sunday at the “sex club” in Astoria, Queens, where they allegedly observed 3 couples engaging in sexual intercourse in one small room. The bust comes days after Gov. Andrew Cuomo expanded the city’s Covid-19 micro-cluster plan last Wednesday to include Astoria under the “yellow zone,” which caps mass gatherings at 25 people.’

 

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The Meat Market (Gardena, CA)

 

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Kino-Labyrinth (Vienna)
‘As the name might already indicate, it was a labyrinth where you dove into the mysterious world of erotic: separées, cosy cabins, artificial landscapes and much more. Although most popular among gay men, it was open to heterosexuals, bis, queers, the transgendered, and everything in between. Ten different programmes were displayed on monitors and cinemas. It closed permanently in July 2020 during the COVID pandemic.’

 

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The Mineshaft (NYC)
‘Upon arrival the Mineshaft’s nondescript street-level door opened to a stairway which led up to the doorkeeper, sitting on a barstool. If you could pass muster you were let in.

‘The Mineshaft had rules of entrance, denim and leather only, no shirts with little alligators, no sneakers, and absolutely no cologne. But once inside everything was fair game. The Mineshaft existed for one reason and one reasons alone.. SEX. Pure hedonistic no-limits sex.

‘Just inside the door was the big bar area with its low lights and pool tables. Behind a partition was the “action” part of the club on two floors. There was an entire wall of glory holes with people kneeling in front of crotch-high holes and servicing disembodied erections.

‘A whole rabbit warren of small rooms was downstairs, a re-creation of a jailcell, the back of a truck, dungeons and the most infamous room talked about in NYC at the time. A room where there was a bathtub in which men so inclined would would take turns being pissed on. But there were glimpses of romance at the Mineshaft: in the basement two stoned men are kissing passionately under black light.unaware of everyone around them, while feet away another man was blindfolded sitting in a sling while a group of men took turns fucking him.

‘The Mineshaft was closed by the New York City Department of Health on November 7, 1985.’

 

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Private Eyes Club (Niagara Falls)
‘I spent my share of time here with friends over the years, whether it was a fun filled lunch while attending Niagara College, or during some crazy nights while I served in the Army reserves in St Catherines, Private Eyes was always a dump but provided a few nights of entertainment.

‘Looking back at my exploration of this abandoned strip club, it was DISGUSTING, there were three areas for private dances and in every one of them I found multiple open condom packages, used and unused condoms and other various and equally disgusting things scattered about the floor, the tables and on the couches themselves.

‘Upstairs in the change-rooms, lockers still had locks on them some were opened and full of high heels, make up, bras, underwear and more condoms. I was very careful to touch nothing and only film and take photos.’

 

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Club Latex (Louisville, Kentucky)
‘Construction workers made an unusual discovery while they were excavating below a historic area of Louisville, Kentucky. Unnerving oil paintings and a decrepit bondage bed with a rusted chain pulled by a handle at one end give hints to what may have been a sado-masochistic swingers club of years past. The erotic discovery was made beneath a buildings on the city’s historic Whiskey Row when a demolition team went in as part of a restoration project that is expected to cost $7 million.

‘According to local station WHAS-11, the club was found two floors below 119 East Main Street. The area was originally known for its connection to the city’s bourbon whiskey production, and in keeping with that tradition, they found 1,000 discarded whiskey bottles. While that was fitting with the area’s industry, the torture chamber was obviously less expected.

‘A wooden rack with a rusted chain at one end that could be cranked by an operator shows how an element of pain was certainly involved with the basement’s former use. The eerie oil paintings of ghouls in outstretched sado-masichistic positions give a very clear picture of what the intended use of the club was. WHAS reports that the club opened in the 1970s and remained operational until the 1990s.’

 

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Paresis Hall (NYC)
‘The good looking teen age boys in the photographs were a famous cyclist and an artisocrat’s son, and both were “workers” at the infamous “Paresis Hall” male brothel that was located in New York City. Situated on Fifth & Bowery, off of Coopers Square. Paresis was one of 3 male to male clubs that existed in NYC beginning in 1890. The number of clubs increased to no fewer than 6 by the early 1900’s, which leaves one to wonder in Victorian Society, when this sort of behavior… simply did not exist… business was brisk! Male bonding was practiced to the extreme in every possible way.’

 

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Man’s Country (Chicago)
‘During its 44 years in Chicago, Man’s Country evolved into a complex of repeatedly changing spaces. Local gay historian Owen Keehnen, who co-wrote with Reader publisher Tracy Baim a biography of Chuck Renslow, says Man’s Country at one point boasted a leather shop and a shop selling western wear, alongside its gym, whirlpool, glory holes, and music hall.

‘“I think one of the things that [Renslow] really focused on was that it was much more than a place to go just for sex; it was also a communal area,” Keehnen says. “It was very important to him to have the music hall, and that the music hall, you know, would have entertainment. And it could be a place to socialize.”

‘In an essay on his website, “Brotherhood of the White Towel,” Keehnen also described how Man’s Country brought in popular performers with a gay cult following, including Boy George, the Village People, and Divine.

‘And as a testament to the love for Man’s Country, a 13-hour New Year’s Eve party closed the storied space, with some patrons taking a literal piece of it with them. Adam and Skye Rust, the owners of Andersonville’s Woolly Mammoth Antiques & Oddities, removed a handful of the glory holes in the days after the space closed, selling all but one. The remaining glory hole now hangs proudly in their shop.’

 

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Maison le prostituée (Netherlands)
‘My name’s Takiany and I am 28 years old! In company with my friends I’d like to travel across Europe exploring abandoned places!’

 

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Les Bains Douches (Paris)
‘Before it became an icon of Parisian nightlife, it was Marcel Proust’s favourite bath house a century earlier. In 1978, it became Paris’ answer to Studio 54, overflowing with famous faces; a cultural institution fuelled by sex, drugs, disco … and midnight swimming.

‘“Magnifique, Magique, Mythique”, writes one former patron describing Les Bains Douches, reminiscing over the photo gallery of the former nightclub’s resident photographer, Foc Kan. We’re looking at his raw photographs of the years he spent snapping the debaucherous goings on at the legendary night spot. The ‘Belle Époque’ of clubbing, if you will, he claims was around 1985, “when we didn’t know all about AIDs. Everyone was having sex with everyone, anytime, anywhere, we were free.”’

 

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Dragon Club (Singapore)
‘Mixed sauna with steam room, private cabins, maze, and TV lounge. Massage service and free WiFi. Hosted weekly themed events including Skin Nite on Wednesdays and Saturdays. Drinks and instant noodles were available for purchase, and there was a smoking area located within the rooftop garden. It had a relaxed atmosphere with a welcoming policy that “never rejects anyone in Singapore”. No membership fee. Located on Pagoda Street (above a Thai restaurant). Closed permanently April 2020’

Weilun –
“Went there on the 4th day of chinese new year. Totally turned off, major turn off moment in there!! Freaking CNY music playing with bunches of old women!
HELLO DJ! You expect your patron sing along with your cny song while looking women? Please choose your song list wisely… its a sauna, not cny bazaar…“

CNY –
“Hello!! It is Chinese New Year. You shouldn’t go out looking women if you dislike Chinese new year song.“

Jonathan –
“Lots of old women! When I say old I really mean it, it’s like grandmas age Chinese old women…
Spend nearly 2 hours and hardly see young women.“

Timmy –
“After paying full amount to get in, I find the place empty and dirty, I go back to the niceguy at the reception, he starts getting aggressive and shouts at me: “leave now leave now ” and he insults me. Do not go there.“

Kong –
“Dragon Club supposedly occupied from a former abandoned club, inherited almost all of the premise property and space. Some shower nozzles are already ripped off, paint work of the walls peeling off, stench smell almost all over, rooms are dirty, etc. They should have done some renovation before taking over the place. Look from this angle, no chill section, steam room notorious dark, movement between 2 separate sets of rooms can be horrific with those flimsy staircase, no sauna, rooms just disgusting when you lie down…all for 12 bucks.”

 

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Vivente (Sunderland, UK)
‘A sadomasochist swingers club complete with its own dungeon was run as a deathtrap, a court heard. Vivente private members club, in Sunderland, was closed down following an inspection which ruled lives of customers were placed in danger. The court heard the club was littered with candles, while walls were coated with a flammable plastic material and escape routes were strewn with combustible objects.

‘Loss of life in the event of a blaze was said to be a “significant possibility”. Vivente, which boasted on its website that it was equipped with “stocks, sex-swing and plenty of implements to inflict pain”, could accommodate as many as 60 punters and had a dungeon. The club had been operating for around 12 months when fire inspectors descended on the property in April 2015 following a tip-off. Prosecutor David Claxton said the “physical restraints, including stocks, would, self-evidently, increase the risk to life in the event of a fire”.’

 

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The New St. Marks Baths (NYC)
‘The New St. Marks Baths was the premiere gay bathhouse in New York City and was located at 6 St. Marks Place in the East Village of Manhattan from 1979 to 1985. It claimed to be the worlds largest gay bathhouse with 230 lockers, 162 cubicles/rooms, a pool, several lounges, a roof deck, a steam room with portholes in the wall like the ones you would see on a cruise ship and a 24 hour cafe.

‘The first floor contained locker rooms, showers and the cafe. The basement contained a swimming pool, more showers, an enormous Jacuzzi, and a large, darkened room with a vinyl-covered mattress that must’ve been 40′ x 40′ where all manner of groping was going on. The upstairs three floors contained seemingly miles of hallway and hundreds of rooms.. Doors ajar with men waiting within.

‘But that began to change in 1981 when the AIDS epidemic began. The Saint Marks and other bathhouses attempted to do what they could. They passed out condoms and placed posters and literature on safe sex throughout the establishments but some gay activists such as Larry Kramer became so “sex panic” obsessed that they wanted ALL the bathrouses’ closed.. And seizing the opportunity (and in some cases the land) the city of New York was glad to oblige.

‘In October 1985 New York State Sanitary Code (10 NYCRR) § 24.2, authorized the New York City Department of Health to close any facilities “in which high risk sexual activity takes place. This code would eventually lead to the clean-up of 42nd street and 8th Avenue. And so on December 9, 1985 the City began the process of targeting and closing and and all gay bathhouses and backrooms and the St. Marks Baths was the first one on it’s list.

‘As the story goes when health officials came to close the place down the staff could not find the front door key. The New York City Department of Health had to purchase and install a lock on the building, because in its 72 years that the St. Marks had been in existence it had never closed. Shortly after its closure graffiti covered the outside walls of the building saying, “Finally!” and “Fuck Fags!”’

 

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Unknown (Honshu Island, Japan)
‘In July 2019, Bob found what he claims is the biggest and most high-end love motel he has ever seen, on Honshu island, Japan. The motel, whose precise location Bob did not reveal for fear of vandalism, is a maze of rooms containing colourful furniture, moving beds, clusters of mirrors to watch your partner from different angles and even a bondage room with a rotating wheel. You accessed your room through a garage door, communicate with the reception via telephone and put your money in a tube which would deliver it to them. You didn’t have to see anyone other than your partner for your whole stay.

‘There was the ‘Action Room’ where couples could have a boxing match before a bonking session. One room had Merry-go-round beds for those wanting a bit of horse play. There was a casino themed Playboy room with a roulette wheel above the bed. One room had Spaceship beds which moved along tracks as couples romped.

‘Bob said: “This place had the craziest rooms I’ve ever seen, including moving UFO beds, a rotating merry-go-round bed, a bondage room and many more. “In Japan you often get multiple generations living in the same house, so people used to come here to have some privacy and fun and get a break from their busy life. You can only find love motels like this one in Latin America and Asia.” According to Bob, the motel he visited was active during the Showa era, when similar facilities were much more common than today.’

 

 

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p.s. Hey. ** David Ehrenstein, Hi. Brautigan’s work’s charm is strangely resilient. Thanks for the Gaddis link. ** Misanthrope, Me either. I used to see him pop up on Facebook very occasionally to share this or that, but I’m not sure if he’s still active there. Was there any pleasure whatsoever in the CT scan? It sounds like whatever stimulus they pass for the masses themselves is going to be very teeny weeny. ** Milk, Oh, cool, I hope you like them! ** Bill, Hi, B. Like I said to Misa, L@rstonivich aka Larry was on Facebook, but … well, let me check. Hold on. No, he appears to have bailed on that platform. Ideally I will be re-hooked up with sound via little plug dealies by this evening. I didn’t know Joel had died. That’s sad news. Interesting guy, very nice. I remember really liking ‘From Black to Blue’, which I think was one of his Serpents Tail books. ST has let pretty much all of their books from that era, including mine, and all the High Risk titles, go totally out of print, the bastards. ** Brian O’Connell, Hey Brian. Fiction is definitely running rampant in the escort trolling community. I’m very picky in what I borrow, but the commenting section has become little more than a kind of social media for sexual fantasists. Well, yeah, from what you say it sounds like the worst that could happen in your ‘Salo’ viewing would be a lot of laughter and declarations of ‘Oh shit’ and the like. Ha ha, oh your poor dad, but he does sound like a good dad. Anyway, yes, fill me in please. Nice, you’re so lucky about the snow. As I’ve often said, climate change has robbed Paris of snowfall except for a few totally freakish 10 or 20 minute long outpourings if we’re very lucky. Math … do you like math, or are you good at it? It and I were kind of a disastrous couple. The Buche … well, it’s the one at the top of the list that looks like pottery, but it apparently sold out within minutes, so now the hotel that offered it is instead selling individual versions, so presumably the same thing but the size of a goblet or something. So we’ll be devouring three of those. I’ll probably score one more different Buche next week for the actual holiday. Today’s eating ceremony is because Zac and Michael are going away for Xmas. Bonnest of the possibly bon Thursdays to you! ** Okay. Today the blog offers you the latest in its series of occasional posts featuring defunct things of a building-housed nature, in this case … well, the title says it all. See you tomorrow.

* (restored)
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When I was around 11 or 12 I spent a considerable amount of time snooping around my older sister’s room. She had a little bookshelf with only one book on it amidst all the nick-nacks. My aunt gave her the book and it was obvious she never opened it. It was So The Wind Won’t Blow It All Away and the cover photo really freaked me out.

One day I read the book. All Brautigan books can be read in a day. The book was really sad and funny but mostly sad. If the narrator had just bought a hamburger that day, things would have been different. Later I read that this was the last book Brautigan published before blowing his brains out. The foreshadowing became quite apparent after the fact.

In High School I remember having these dreams where I lived above a funeral parlor and they seemed so real and out of left field. Then I remembered this book and re-read it. The narrator lived above a funeral parlor for a bit.

After college I moved to Portland, Oregon. One of my best friends, Dylan, began reading Trout Fishing In America. He said there was a guy named “Trout Fishing In America” in Ojai, California, where he was from. I read Trout Fishing too, then In Watermelon Sugar, and A Confederate General in Big Sur. Powell’s books had tons of Richard Brautigan hardcovers, well worn and ratty but first editions. I hadn’t realized RB was from the Northwest when I read him as a kid, but now that I live out here it made total sense. Soon, I had read everything he wrote. The Abortion was a favorite. I remember giving it to my sister for Christmas (a different sister than the one who I stole So The Wind… from) and the family being a little weirded out by the title. “It’s a really nice book,” I said, “It’s about a guy who lives in a library where anyone can put a book they write. One kid enters a book about a pancake.”

When Dylan told his father he was reading RB his father told a story regarding young Dylan and the author himself. Dylan was probably 3 or 4 and he and his dad were walking down a hill in San Francisco (one of RB’s homes, along with Montana, and Japan) and RB was walking up the hill. His dad recognized RB instantly, his long blonde hair and trademarked mustache were legendary, not to mention on the cover of all his books. Apparently young Dylan and RB were really intrigued with each other and stared at each other intently and when they passed they both turned around and walked backwards, still staring, one going up hill and one going down. I thought it was a great story.

When I pulled out So The Wind… for my third re-read I thought about my aunt who gave my sister the book. She lived in SF in the late 60’s and 70’s and knew Kesey and such so I wondered if she ever met RB. The next day I saw a note on the refrigerator that my aunt had called. She had never called before, she lived in Mexico. Turns out she didn’t know RB. Instead she offered to pay for my trip to Mexico as a graduation present from college. Right on. Oh yeah and for years I played in a band called The Lawn (originally with Dylan), named after the Brautigan collection Revenge of The Lawn. So now I present Richard Brautigan.

 

Biographical Snippets from Wikipedia (read full entry)

Brautigan was born in Tacoma, Washington to Bernard Frederick Brautigan, Jr. (July 29, 1909 — May 27, 1994) a factory worker, laborer, and World War II veteran, and Lulu Mary “Mary Lou” Keho (April 7, 1911 — September 24, 2005) a waitress. His father broke his relationship with Mary Lou eight months before Richard was born. Brautigan said that he met his biological father only twice, though after Brautigan’s death Bernard Brautigan was said to be unaware that Richard was his child, saying “He’s got the same last name, but why would they wait 45 to 50 years to tell me I’ve got a son.”

Throughout his childhood, Brautigan lived in extreme poverty; he told his daughter stories of his mother sifting rat feces from their supply of flour to make flour-and-water pancakes. Because of Brautigan’s impoverished childhood, he and his family found it difficult obtaining food, and on some occasions would not be able to eat for days. He lived with his family on welfare and moved to various homes in the Pacific Northwest before settling in Eugene, Oregon in 1944. Many of Brautigan’s childhood experiences were included in the poems and stories that he wrote from as early as the age of 12 through his high school years. His novel So the Wind Won’t Blow It All Away is loosely based on childhood experiences including an incident where Brautigan accidentally shot the brother of a close friend in the ear, injuring him only slightly.

Hospitalization

On December 14, 1955, Brautigan was arrested for throwing a rock through a police-station window, supposedly in order to be sent to prison and fed. He was arrested for disorderly conduct and had to pay a $25 fine; however, he was instead committed to the Oregon State Hospital on December 24, 1955, after police noticed patterns of erratic behavior.

At the Oregon State Hospital Brautigan was diagnosed with paranoid schizophrenia and clinical depression, and was treated with electroconvulsive therapy twelve times. While institutionalized, he began writing The God of the Martians, a manuscript that remains unpublished. On February 19, 1956, Brautigan was released from the Oregon State Hospital and briefly lived with his mother, stepfather, and his siblings in Eugene, Oregon. He then left for San Francisco, where he would spend most of the rest of his life, except for periods of time spent in Tokyo and Montana.

Writing career

In San Francisco, Brautigan sought to establish himself as a writer and was known for handing out his poetry on the streets and performing at poetry clubs.

Brautigan’s first published book was The Return of the Rivers (1958), a single poem, followed by two collections of poetry: The Galilee Hitch-Hiker (1958), and Lay the Marble Tea (1959). During the 1960s Brautigan became involved in the burgeoning San Francisco counterculture scene, often appearing as a performance-poet at concerts and participating in the various activities of The Diggers. Brautigan was also a writer for the newspaper Change, an underground newspaper created by Ron Loewinsohn.

In the summer of 1961, Brautigan went camping with his wife and his daughter in the Idaho Stanley Basin. While camping he completed the novels A Confederate General From Big Sur and Trout Fishing in America. A Confederate General from Big Sur was his first published novel and met with little critical or commercial success. But when his novel Trout Fishing in America was published in 1967, Brautigan was catapulted to international fame and labeled by literary critics as the writer most representative of the emerging countercultural youth-movement of the late 1960s, even though he was said to be contemptuous of hippies (as noted in Lawrence Wright’s article in the April 11, 1985 issue of Rolling Stone.) Trout Fishing in America has so far sold over 4 million copies worldwide.

 

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p.s. Hey. ** _Black_Acrylic, Hi, B. Good luck with the tier upping. If it’s any consolation, about half of Europe is making the same move. Not France yet, knock on wood. ** David Ehrenstein, Hi. I didn’t like ‘Chicago 7’ at all. I haven’t seen the others, but the word on ‘Mank’ definitely seems to tag it as stinko. Nice that you heard from your old friend. I’m Skyping with my oldest friend in the next days. New FaBlog! Everyone, Mr. Ehrenstein’s FaBlog is newly updated with an entry entitled Putin’s Puta Goes Kaputt !. ** Misanthrope, Oh, yes, I remember that now about your eardrum’s burst. Well, your ears look great from the outside if that means anything. Super sucks, man. Healing vibes galore to you and to that David fella. ** Bill, Funnily, I got two messages on Facebook yesterday from Paris acquaintances who are good friends of that particular escort, and they sung his praises when out of the sack. My experience of that interesting project including you got waylaid until today (I hope) due to the sudden death of my trusty earphones. Yes, Joel Lane. Wow, I haven’t thought about him in ages. He’s very good, and I know and like the collection you speak of, and I knew him personally a little when he and I were both Serpents Tail authors way back when. I wonder what he’s up to these days. I’ll find out. Wednesday’s greetings. ** Steve Erickson, I think the snowflake emoji refers mostly to crystal meth but it wouldn’t surprise me if it’s also signalling that its employer thinks cocaine is a bit of all right as well. Curious to see your music list, natch. ** Armando, Hi. Yes, the interview was really excellent! That’s a form you’re pretty masterful at, it seems. I’ve never been to Lacoste or Sade’s castle. I need to find out where it is in France. Seems like something one could hit whilst on a road trip, and Zac and I are thinking of a road trip just to kill the stuck-in-Paris thing a little. No, shit, I didn’t get your thing, but it could be sitting at the concierge’s apartment, and I’ll check hopefully today if he’s around. The system of mail delivery in this building can be annoyingly labyrinthine. ** Brian O’Connell, Hi, Brian. They were a highlight: I agree. The lockdowns are absolutely adding a new, higher level of insanity and/or lying to the escorts’ and slaves’ texts, which, from my perspective, has made them even more useable/arty. The Magic Museum is actually pretty nice and worth a pop in next time you’re in this neck. I’m a huge Paris booster, so of course I encourage you’re visit. Plus I can show you the cool stuff that the guidebooks don’t think are iconically Parisian enough. Well, a bunch of countries right around France are locking up extremely tight, so, even with the curfew, we’re still pretty lucky at the moment. I assume if your friends are asking to watch ‘Salo’ they must have an idea of what they’re in for? If nothing else, it’ll probably prove to be a good conversation starter. If that happens, share the vibe if you feel like it. My week ahead is pretty busy. Today I’m training out to the distant-ish Paris suburb Nanterre to see a run-through of Gisele vienne’s new piece. Tomorrow my friends Zac and Michael Salerno and I will gather to eat a Xmas Buche. Friday is a big meeting about the haunted house attraction lecture and a Zoom with a US friend. The weekend itself is a ?. I hope your today and the next couple of 24 hour segments pay off. Have you gotten through your finals? ** Right. Back in the late 60s and early 70s, it was a sign of one’s coolness to carry around and possibly even read a Richard Brautigan book. He was a very groovy thing. Nowadays he’s just kind of a minor cult figure and writers’ writer. And years ago a long lost d.l. of this blog made a post about him that I have now breathed life back into. Very interesting if you’re interested. See you tomorrow.