By Patrick O’Connor
I was friendly with Jed Harris, the New York producer who produced and directed the original OUR TOWN and THE FRONT PAGE. He was known as the man who invented Broadway. I gave him a contract to write two books which he never delivered but I thoroughly enjoyed having dinner with him which I thought of as ‘And then I said to Shaw “ dinners. The Shaw he was referring to was George Bernard Shaw and he was telling the truth. We often had dinner and after dinner like many Europeans and New Yorkers he would always want to go to another Café for an after dinner drink. We were walking down First Ave. in New York looking for a place to have a brandy and we passed a bar called THE BEADED BAG. Jed said “Let’s go in here.” I said, “No.” “Why not?” he asked. I said, “Jed trust me you don’t want to go in that bar.” He was relentless; he wanted to know specifics of why I wouldn’t take him into THE BEADED BAG. I said, ” Finally he said “I know it’s a Gay Bar and you don’t want to go in there with me. “ Jed Harris was one of the most notorious womanizers in history. I said, “It’s a gerontophil bar.” And he said, “Lover of old bar. What does that mean?” Jed Harris was not only a theatrical genius he remembered Latin and Greek into his old age. I said, “It’s not just a gay bar it’s where young men chase fat old men around the bar for their favors.” He began to laugh and he laughed for fully ten minutes. He laughed so hard he sat down on the curb helpless with laughter and finally he said, “Patrick I’ve been an atheist all my life but I finally believe in God.”
I was in the mother of all Daddy Bars, in London, near the Marble Arch; the bar is called THE CITY OF QUEBEC… A daddy bar might be more properly called a Gerontophil Bar. Perhaps a word of explanation. Gerontophil Bars are bars to which gay young men go for the purpose of picking up gay older men for sex. THE CITY OF QUEBEC is an enormous establishment on two floors filled with Irish workers, British workers and occasionally a British Lord, Saudi princes, American tourists, sometimes world class soccer players, and visitors from all over the world including Israel India, Pakistan and Australia… There is a daddy bar in every city in the world. In Los Angeles it’s called THE OTHER SIDE and it is on Hyperion. Australians call Daddy Bars Old Geezer Bars and Londoners call them Bingo Chaser Bars because old gay men in London play Bingo in the bars on slow nights. The most common misconception about these bars by the uninitiated is the notion that old men pay for the favors of young men. Wrong. Mostly it’s the other way around and very often the young men buy the drinks and take the older men out to dinner in an effort to seduce them.
There are also straight gerontophil bars or at least there’s one in New York. I would stop in the bar in the Chinese Restaurant in my building at noon to have a Martini before I went for my lunch date in case the person I was having lunch with only had one Martini,, I would be ashamed to order a second in case she (It was the book business so it was usually a she.) thought I was a drunk which I was. I had to have that early drink in case, God forbid the person I was having lunch with didn’t order a drink at all. So I went to the bar in my building precisely at noon and there were very few people there. But one day I noticed a handsome mid-twenties guy pick up a woman in her late seventies, she was not exactly a grandmotherly type, more a Katherine Hepburn tennis playing type
I said to the wise old Chinese bartender who was very smart and a passionate reader (I supplied him with lots of books.) “What’s going on here?” And he said, “Mr. O’Connor you don’t seem to see anything, THAT is what goes on here… I was amazed, a bar in which very young men picked up very old women.
Once in a while after a one Martini lunch I would stop at the Bar and have an after lunch drink and check out the action. I asked the bartender “Who pays.” He said, “As far as I can figure out the guy pays for the hotel but other than that no money changes hands.”
It is a sexual phenomenon which almost no one knows about: young men who like older and sometimes very old women. There is a headwaiter in one of the best restaurants in Glendale who when I jokingly accused him of dying his hair gray said “You’re the first one to mention it and I do it so older women will trust me when I make my move.”
I was standing at the bar in The City of Quebec next to a handsome man in his forties – I was in my late sixties and he made it immediately clear that I was the object of his affections. He was a Czech, a former star soccer player, what else who the first time his Champion Czech Soccer Team came out from behind the Iron Curtain, defected. He made his way to the United States and in a typical rags to riches story became, after twenty years of hard work, an immensely rich builder of developments. I should mention that an astonishing number of gerontophils are professional athletes – I call it the coach syndrome, they’re in love with their coaches – and in Europe at least an even more astonishing number of them are former star soccer players.
After telling me his life story which I found fascinating the former soccer player whose name was Bruno asked me if I would like to have dinner with him. I said, “Yes.” He said, “We will walk across the street to the Angus Steak House.” I said, “Not at all we’ll go to the Ritz and we’ll go by cab.” He said we’re not dressed for the Ritz.” I said, “Yes we are, we both have on blazers and the Ritz will supply us with ties if we want to eat in the Main Dining Room and without a tie we can eat on the Terrace where they usually serve Tea to the gentry.” Duchesses in English novels are always having Tea at The Ritz.
I stay with a friend in New York and every morning I make myself a cup of tea and always ask him if he’ll have one and he always says the same thing which delights me.” “I only drink tea when I’m at deaths door at the London Ritz.”
We arrive safely at the Ritz – it was a Sunday. They offered us ties which we refused and said we will have a little something on the Terrace. I ordered cold lobster and champagne. Bruno ordered Slivovitz and they had it. I was dazzled. The Ritz must keep it on hand for deposed Serbian royalty. Cold lobster at the Ritz comes with a mysterious green mayonnaise which I must say is divine. At this point I was sober I ordered the best champagne anyway – What the hell – I liked the idea of having the full champagne class and the bottle of champagne in front of me while I ate the cold lobster. It just seemed to fit. The Czech kept going to the bathroom and initially I thought he was doing cocaine but I was wrong, it turns out he kept checking his blood pressure. And every time he did I poured some champagne into the potted plant next to the table. Once the waiter caught me, looked puzzled but didn’t’ say anything. You would have to kill your mother in plain sight before a Ritz waiter would say anything. . I was enjoying myself thoroughly. I’ve read Collette and I know how a courtesan is supposed to behave and I looked like I was listening attentively but I didn’t hear a word. They’re all the same, old professional athletes, they are all crippled with arthritis, in constant pain and they never shut up about. In spite of being in constant real pain some of them turn into hypochondriacs as well which this man was I smiled and nodded. After I was finished with the lobster and had spilled all of the champagne into the potted plant I ordered the largest most expensive dessert in Europe. Something with fresh peaches, raspberries, light as air pastry and a mountain of freshly whipped cream. No Kool Whip for this hussy. Finally I finished and Bruno made one last trip to the loo and asked me if I would like to join him at his hotel. And if you eat lobster order expensive champagne and eat a mountain of expensive whipped cream you have to pay the piper and I said yes.
We went to the Cumberland Hotel across the street from The City of Quebec… He was so busy checking his blood pressure, taking pills and complaining about his poor battered body he forgot about me completely so I said Dekuji and Sbohem, thank you and goodbye, the only words I know in Czech, and made my merry way back to THE CITY OF QUEBEC to see what was happening.
As you can see luxury abounds in Vienna and we almost spent the night in one of the Tyrolean luxury rooms of the castles zoo areas but decided to have a bite to eat ( Lamb sausage on Brot mit Kaese ) and then go back home instead of staying the night. The accommodations were simple but elegant. Kinda like everything in Austria. Perfect but understated. We walked but before we left the area we also wanted to check out the hotel next to Schoenbrunn were in a few days the 
Gay Ball in Vienna would be held. Check out the web site. This is one of the must go to events of the year in the gay community. Of course you know why Gay Austrians have bigger balls than Americans….. They sell more tickets.. HAHAHAH? Sorry about that bad American joke.
Tasting all the countries culinary specialties and checking out the hot guys. I also was interviewed for the T.V. show