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"The Combat Zone"
"The Combat Zone"
Boston’s “Combat Zone” could be a fun place, but it could also be a dangerous place.
The first time I visited “The Combat Zone” I was a 22 year-old Boston graduate-school student who was nearing the end of his course requirements. I recall that two other grad students and I took a break from our studies and headed toward downtown Boston to visit one of the many strip-clubs (adult entertainment) on South Washington St.
As I recall, the strip-club we spent most of our time in was called: “The Teddy-Bear Lounge". At the time, “The Lounge” was located among others clubs in an area that was collectively called: "The Combat Zone". I remember that we walked into “The Lounge” just in time to see "a warm-up" act. There were two women on the stage. One was as thin as a rail, the other was as plump as a "blimp on steroids". I thought, "This is supposed to be “a turn on.” No way!" Yet, I thought later: "Different strokes for different folks."
In the next act, we saw a woman who was doing “tricks” with a brass pole. Her legs and arms were so tightly wrapped around the pole that she appeared like a slithering snake. Oh, could she move and contort her body into shapes that seemed to defy the human anatomy. Her come-hither facial expressions weren’t bad, either. When you're still a young guy, those kinda things set your blood a-boiling. The pole-sliding gyrations bring forth all kinds of illusions and fantasies
Then, about fifteen minutes later, the main attraction appeared on stage. She was a fair-skinned “High Yellow” African-American woman. As a sidebar, I would, years later, pin dollar-bills on a similarly-complected woman who was dancing on a pedestal at one of Washington, D.C.’s alphabet-street strip-clubs near Ford’s Theater. I remember that both women, the one in Beantown and the other, years later, in D.C., both moved with the grace of a ballerina.
As I remember, at least at “The Lounge” the strippers would come down to the bar after their act and request that men buy them cocktails. Could anything be “arranged”? I wasn’t sure. At the time, I wasn’t in the market. One thing I do know is that both in Boston and in D.C. I drank my beers directly from the bottle; there was no taking chances with the glassware that the clubs provided.
Yet, for all the excitement “The Zone” presented, it could be a dangerous place. A Harvard football player – he had graduated from the same Boston high school I had graduated from years earlier -- was killed while trying to get back a friend’s wallet while visiting “The Zone”. He had been stabbed in the chest. He died about one month later.
And yes, there's a sad ending to the story of the “Headliner,” the African-American woman, I saw at “The Lounge” in the mid-1960s. That beautiful woman I saw performing on stage was killed about a half-dozen years later. In fact, in a manner of speaking, I met this woman a few years before she was tragically slain. At the time, she was living in the same apartment complex as my mother.
Moreover, I believe her last name was Foster (although that may have been her stage name). The article I read about her said that she was trying to put her life back together after years on the street. The article went on to say that she was studying to become a hairdresser. All I can recall is that as a “stripper” she had all the moves. She certainly created an illusion on stage, but, then again, the real world can often be cruel. And, I might add --- unforgiving when your life is somehow tied to: "The Combat Zone."
__________________
Walt (Teach)
"Walt, make a 'mental bet' and lose your mind." R.N.S.
"The important thing is what I think of myself."
"David and Lisa" (1962)
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and showed him from a window the Chinatown arches and said just 5 minutes up that street and they call it the Combat Zone.
