Published in the December 2025 Edition
By Rodney Burger
I discovered the leather community in 1984. I had just moved to Baltimore and was trying to find my way around. It was a different time, when an app was what you had before dinner and grinder was what you used to make coffee. Baltimore had many LGBT bars in those days, but I was having trouble finding them. I had worked as a security guard at a twenty-story condo in Ocean City, Maryland the summer before and I met my first gay couple there. They owned a condo in the building and lived in Baltimore. They said, “If you ever come to Baltimore, call us and we will show you around.”
Not having much luck on my own, I did just that. They said they would take me out to dinner followed by an evening of bar hopping. The restaurant they had selected for dinner was in a gay club, but they quickly added that we were only going to eat there and leave. They explain that although the restaurant had amazing Maryland fried chicken, one had to walk through a rather sleazy bar to get to it. It was called The Gallery.
I don’t remember what I had for dinner that night, but I will never forget stepping into a smoky room filled with studly men in full leather. We went to many bars that evening, but they were all a blur. I could not wait to return to The Galley. I hadn’t learned a new fried chicken recipe; I had discovered the leather community.
I was working the nightshift as a prison guard at a downtown jail in those days and lived in the suburbs. There was no locker room, so one had to wear their uniform to work. On Sunday the Gallery was always packed for happy hour. I would come downtown a few hours before my shift and join the fun. I wasn’t the only one there with handcuffs.
Although I feared that everyone wondered why I always wore the same tired uniform every week, it helped me fit right in. There was a front bar and a back bar. Above the entrance to the back bar flickered a red neon sign: L / L. It stood for leather / Levi. The back bar had a dress code. If one was not dressed properly the back bartender would politely ask the patron to move to the front. Although I didn’t have any leather, uniforms worked just fine.
The leather community at that time was very different from today. There were only two kinds of leather: black and wrong. A brown leather vest or jacket would make eyes roll. I will never forget what happened one Memorial Day.
The bar was packed and like any bar there were the regulars who were well-known and always present. The ShipMates leather club was founded at the Gallery in 1974 and I met some of the early members there. One popular member was named Mickey and unlike many of the leather guys, he really did have a motorcycle. Mickey was tall and handsome with big broad shoulders and looked like a biker. He was never not in full leather.
On that busy Memorial Day all of those years ago, Mickey and his pardner pulled off one of the best jokes of all time. They walked in the Galley dressed head to toe in white leather. Conversations stopped and heads turned. They room grew quiet. When all eyes were on them, Mickey stated loudly, “What’s the big deal? It’s Memorial Day. This is our summer leather!” The crowd roared with laughter.
Much has changed since those early days. If you attend any leather event today you will see leather in every color. You will also see spandex, rubber, neoprene, fur, and sports gear. The Galley unfortunately is long gone. The building is still there at 1733 Maryland Avenue and is now a restaurant called The Royal Blue. The inside hasn’t changed much since the Gallery days and I am happy to report that it is very LGBTQ-friendly. The ShipMates Club is still around too and hosted their kickoff to their annual Daddy Christmas fundraiser event with a cookout on August 31st at Leon’s bar. This year’s charity will be Clay Pots Community Center. This year’s ShipMates’ Daddy Christmas will be held on Saturday, December 6th starting at 9 pm at the Baltimore Eagle. Labor Day has come and gone, but you can still wear your summer leather.