by
Marc
Alexander
AUSTIN/CENTRAL TEXAS
The Hat Lady
You’ve heard about her. Most likely you’ve seen her on one of the coasts or maybe in one of the Austin bars. Perhaps you have had the good fortune to have been introduced. She is the lady with the seemingly endless supply of hats - uh huh, she’s Marcy Fletcher, the subject of this chapter in the Ambush Texas Icon series.
Prior to our meeting I had caught glimpses of her in local bars and had heard numerous stories of her exploits. I arranged an interview with Ms. Fletcher at her home near downtown Austin. I arrived thinking I was prepared, only to be reminded well laid plans often go awry. Marcy Fletcher’s home is a pack rat’s delight, the walls are covered with paintings, photographs, hats and more. There is so much, one’s eyes race back and forth attempting to record the lifetime collection of personal memorabilia. From the gold mesh mules (high heel shoes) covered in rhinestones to the assortment of house plants, Marcy’s home screams, been there, done that, going back for more...
From the moment we were introduced she took control of the intended interview, I found my mind racing to keep pace with her. Although her words are distinct she is definitely a stenographer’s nightmare! She noticed I kept looking at a particular photograph on the sofa table, she picked up the photograph, smiled and said. "This is Tuffy Beadel, the man I married when I was 14 and he was 21." Marcy met Tuffy at a rodeo. "I saw him...standing with his cowboy hat tipped over, his smile so wide, with the whitest teeth, the broadest shoulders in a custom fitted shirt, western cut with raised yokes, pearl buttons, hand stuffed in one pocket, crotch bulging below his red/blue tooled belt... slightly turned where I could see Beadel on the back... custom boots... looking like Clark Gable with the Misfits...indeed...an omen."
The romance was a whirlwind. In moments she was headed for Mexico where they were married. Well aware of potential statutory rape and kidnapping charges, Tuffy’s parents made the political deal of a lifetime. They would educate Marcy with a guarantee of a life only a wealthy family could provide if her parents would not press charges and destroy the legendary reputation of one of the premier families of Texas.
|
|
Marcy went from sharing a bed with her sister to sleeping in a suite in her in-laws home that was larger than her parents entire house. The family’s recognition for providing the largest endowments and a bit of political advantage gained her access at age 14 to Howard Payne College in Brownwood, Texas where she would become the second woman member of the Douglas MacArthur Academy of Freedom, an honors program in Political Science that preceded the University of Texas’s LBJ School. Of course she met Lyndon. He was a close friend of her husband’s family. Mother-in-law Rosalie headed the Brown County Democratic Party, so governors, presidents and other political figures visited often. All the while, Marcy was observing, learning...
Fast forward...Marcy moved to Austin. She and the city would form a bond that would become infinite and enduring. Michael Wolverton and Marcy joined forces to create Austin’s Pecan Street Fesitival, which continues to attract record numbers of visitors. She served as president of the festival in it’s early days.
Her first club, Friends and Lovers was not a gay club as such. It was most likely the first alternative club in Austin. Everyone was welcome. Marcy became friends with men like John Waters, Bunch Britian, Fred Fine and so many others who lead Austin out of the closet and into reality. In this environment, Marcy would become even more aware of gay and other movements taking shape throughout the country, all of them were calling her name. There was work to do. "We can not change all of the world as observed from space...but we can make a difference in the lives of those we touch daily as we move through it."
Marcy says she has no fascination with hats. Her family was Baptist and her husbands family was Episcopalian. Women wore hats, gloves, etc., when attending church and her mother-in-law loved buying Marcy hats, every color of the rainbow, all of which Marcy loved to wear. Hair requires too much time and hats offered a freedom of sorts. Marcy discovered a wide brimmed hat kept wandering hands off her body, and even better, she could observe her surroundings without anyone knowing what she was thinking. Judging from the hats adorning the walls of her home, she could go a couple years and not wear the same hat twice.
It was 1974 and Marcy was at Paula’s Playpen on Barton Springs Road where Romeo’s is now located. The bar was the first male dancer strip club. Although taken aback at the men taking off their clothes, Marcy was there doing research. She was amazed that women packed the place.
"I never tipped one. I observed but did not participate. I watched human nature unfold as I had in many civil rights marches, causes, protests, etc., another human event." Marcy was there when C.J. Harrington became Mr. Texas. Bunch Britain brought men to entertain at his club, Austin Country. Garry Holley, who would become a cherished friend, bartended at the Apartment Lounge.
Along the way she wandered into the Crossing on Red River, Fred Fine and Roy Ikeda’s bar where she met Hunter, aka Gary Hartwell who was in the military stationed in San Antonio and who Marcy thought was gorgeous and a contestant that night.
History in the making...combining lessons learned at Paula’s Playpen and her own experiences, she became a booking agent for male dancers. Marcy’ s reality was that male dancers were not necessarily hustlers. The majority were college students who had discovered they could earn money in a short period of time allowing them to maximize their time for their studies. Doing only what was legal, dancing in their underwear, rather like a concierge in underwear.
Unfortunately there are those who refer to male dancers as "dick dancers" and lump them all into various degrading categories. Marcy isn’t alone with the knowledge that many of these young men are working to pay their college tuition and other expenses of attaining an education.
Around the corner from our apartment in Houston lived a young man who entered contests to win the cash prizes to help with his education. He later became a doctor. The only difference between him and the hottie bagging groceries at HEB is one works in pants and shirt, one works in his underwear.
As owner of Manwatch, Marcy has interviewed and hired thousands of young men over the years. In the process she has come to know their true personas. Of course, she has had to deal with her fair share of rotten apples. Every barrel has one, two or more. Our society is quick to judge, usually passing sentence in the next breath. Sometimes I am amazed at how minimal the impact of hatred bestowed on our community has had on our reasoning. We are no better when we disrespect the basic rights of others by judging their character on sight alone. But then, I have to admit I am as guilty as anyone. I have committed those same acts of hatred - the degree does not matter, what matters is the injustice of hypocrisy. Next time you treat a dick dancer like common trash, stop, think, he just might be the doctor waiting for you to arrive in the ER...
I asked Marcy if she had political aspirations and she replied, "Yes, I was to announce for Austin City Council once... my life had been in preparation for public office... but I decided my children and friends deserved my behind the scenes expertise more than I needed the recognition for what I had already been doing most effectively for years." She has her eye on a couple potential candidates for public office who understand the needs of the people rather than that of big business.
As to her future, Marcy says, "I am weighing my options...my own B&B in New Orleans, working with a seasoned journalist in writing about many of my experiences and observations, maybe something like Sideswiped by Life, a sort of Erma Brombeck owns a gay bar (burst of laughter here) and all the well known characters it produced, and telling the tales of men...as I have observed them. My future, what else...Manwatching on a more international scale...what else could be so fun?"
Well, I have a new addition to my list of fun things - an afternoon with Marcy Fletcher is not only fun, it is a lesson in living. After all, when you are with Marcy - she is the designated driver.
Brought to you by Copyright © Ambush, Inc. All Rights Reserved ®
Over 375,000 Unique Visitors Per Month
Independently verified by reports generated through Web Trends
828-A Bourbon Street, New Orleans, Louisiana, 70116-3137, USA
PH 1.504.522.8047