Revelation at Love's Purple Lounge

by Talmage Buchanan

I thought I was walking from a chilled, almost deserted street into a bar, nothing more. I had seen the neat neon sign-Helen Love's Deep Purple Lounge -from my hotel room window, across St. Charles street, soon after my arrival in New Orleans the night before. This night, after a tiring, rather monotonous day of seeing the sights that tourists are supposed to see, I felt strangely lonesome and in need of warmth-a drink and, perhaps, some music. I studied the picture of Helen Love on a poster in the curtained window. It assured me that she was "appearing nightly." Another neon sign warned "It's Different." I pulled open the purple leather door and went into what I later realized was another world.

Instantly, it all seemed inviting, though I had no knowledge of the essence of the invitation. It was December and jazz and Christmas carols alternated from the three instruments on a platform behind the bar. Helen Love, a lusty redhead, recognizable from her picture, blurted her rendition of "Jingle Bells. The bar giggled and smirked and roared at paraphrasing I did not understand. I smiled in a way that I thought was pleasantly appropriate.

While I was on my second bourbon and water, I became aware of a confidentially-toned voice at my elbow.

"Lonesome?"

The man appeared to be in his early or middle twenties, about my own age. His hair was thick and blond, his eyes dark. He stared earnestly from a thin, pale face craned beyond a yellow wool muffler tucked in a navy blue coat. "Hello," I said.

"You're new around here, aren't you?"

"Do you mean New Orleans or this bar?"

"This bar."

"Yes. This is the first time I've been here, but in either case you'd be right. I've been in New Orleans only since last night, this time. I've visited here before." "What took a nice looking kid like you so long?"

"Pardon?"

"Why haven't you been in here before this? Most of the kids make for this place as soon as they hit town. Helen Love's is known the world over."

"Why?" hesitantly.

"Come now. Don't be like that. Not with your mother, here."

"What?" puzzled.

"You are gay.

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aren't you?-Oh, pardon me! My error!"