For 30 Years, Club Escape Has Been A Haven For South Side Gays: ‘We Stick Together’

GREATER GRAND CROSSING — The crystalline sound of Toni Braxton’s “Seven Whole Days” rains over the crowd at Club Escape on a Saturday night in June as patrons crowd around tables and pull dollars from their wallets. 

Outside, torrential showers poured down on 75th Street, briefly dousing any guests still waiting to enter the club. A bouncer holds an umbrella over their heads, shielding them from the onslaught, before they too are able to file in. 

At the center of the room is Dakota Monroe, clad in emerald green and silver high heels with the earrings to match. As she dips and weaves, lip-syncing the R&B lyrics, she collects cash from outstretched hands. 

It’s nearly midnight, but the show is just beginning. Mz. Ruff N’ Stuff will soon hit the floor.  

For 30 years, Club Escape, 1530 E. 75th St., has been a home to the LGBTQ+ community on the South Side. Patrons and staff alike call the club “the neighborhood’s ‘Cheers’” because people visit once and keep coming back. And the club’s stewards say they have no plans to stop now.

“And if I don’t know your name, I know your drink,” said Keith Smith, a bartender and member of Club Escape’s community for two decades. He’ll have it ready by the time you make it to the bar, Smith said. 

Some people might call Club Escape “underground,” said owner Warren Burger. Other people might even call it an “old man’s club.”

But mostly, Club Escape is a friendly place with affordable drinks and a welcoming spirit, Burger said. The club hosts weekly drag performances featuring Chicago beauty queen and drag icon Mz. Ruff N’ Stuff.

“It’s just a space that is committed to the community,” Burger said. “You can go wherever you want, but you know when you come here, you’re in a safe environment.” 

The Live Catfish King

Burger has owned Club Escape since it opened in 1996, he said. Before that, he was the “Live Catfish King” at South Chicago Seafood — a live catfish market on 75th Street and Stony Island Avenue. 

In an ad for the long-gone business, Burger, spry in a tuxedo, jumps into a pool of catfish before sharing the seafood spot’s sweet deals.  

In the late ‘90s, Burger began buying buildings on the strip where he owned his seafood business, he said. That included the building at 1530 E. 75th St., which was once home to the Launching Pad Lounge, an iconic jazz and blues bar that hosted “the who’s who in night club circles and the music and song worlds,” according to a 1961 Chicago Defender article. 

After purchasing the building, three guys approached Burger and told him they wanted to collaborate and open a gay club on the South Side, Burger said. 

The “Live Catfish King” contemplated the pitch for “three whole minutes,” he said. He was in. 

Burger was raised in rural Delavan, Illinois, a city with a population of about 1,200 people at the time, he said. 

There was a theater in his town called the Del-Van Theatre, owned by Charles Thomas, a gay man. 

“That was the first strike against him,” Burger said. 

After a failed stint at screening Disney movies, the owner began showing pornographic flicks — attracting audiences from nearby cities — “and the town was furious,” Burger said. 

Burger’s father, a respected man, told his neighbors to leave the man alone, Burger said. His father was “a “champion of people” who raised his son with the same beliefs. He marched with Burger in the ‘60s during the Civil Rights Movement while police chased them with their batons in hand, Burger said. 

“I say all this to say that I’m committed to the cause,” Burger said. 

So, when those three guys approached Burger to open a gay club on the South Side all those years ago, he had no choice but to agree, he said. When, eventually, those three men “fell behind on their obligations” and left Club Escape in Burger’s hands, he had no choice but to keep it going, he said. 

“The community needed this bar,” Burger said. “There aren’t many gay bars on the South Side in the Black community. We needed to keep it going.” 

He remodeled the space and the Club Escape as it is known today emerged. 

Drawing on his days as the “Live Catfish King,” Burger created an ad for the club showing Mz. Ruff N’ Stuff stepping out of a limousine in full drag.

‘What Keeps Me Coming Back’

What makes Club Escape are the people, customers, environment and loyalty, Burger said. He can rattle off his connections by the decades: He’s known “Ruffy” for 20 years; the security guard for 15. 

Smith, the bartender who will always remembers customers’ drinks, discovered Club Escape while doing outreach for HIV care, he said. 

Once he came, he started playing cards and eventually never left, Smith said. That was 20 years ago. 

Sean Jackson has been a member of the Club Escape family for 15 years, he said. Known as DJ Tiger, he’s the manager, technical consultant and resident DJ. He found the club in his 20s while hitting the town with friends. 

“It’s a neighborhood hangout,” Jackson said. “There’s just something about this place. I sit at home and I ask myself, ‘What keeps me coming back?’ But I can’t stop.” 

Around the time Jackson started his gig at Club Escape, he recorded a voicemail calling the club “the friendliest LGBT bar this side of the Chicago River,” he said. You can still hear it if you call today. 

It’s that “friendliness” that has kept business going for years, Jackson said. Whether he remembers your name or not, he’ll give you as many hugs as possible because he knows your face from Club Escape. It’s an experience you can’t get everywhere, Jackson said. 

“I just want people to have a good time when they come out here,” Jackson said. “I want us to be the place where people can come and chill with cheap drinks. We are who we are. We don’t care about what you wear. Just come in and have a good time. But act right.” 

‘We Stick Together’

Deon Murray stopped by Club Escape for the first time on that rainy Saturday night in June. He’d just moved back to the city from Philadelphia with his partner — a former regular at the South Side club before he moved away. 

Murray’s partner told him they had to visit the club because “it was a good time and a good place with cheap drinks.” Murray sipped a margarita prepared by Thomas Hale, Club Escape’s “dancing bartender,” within 10 minutes of entering the club, he said. 

“[Club Escape] is an inclusive and important neighborhood space for the Black LGBT community,” Murray said. “We can celebrate each other in our own space rather than traveling to the North Side.”

Behind the bar, Hale, a bartender for 10 years at Club Escape, dropped low to “Get It Shawty” by Lloyd as he mixed margaritas and vodka-based “purple passions.” Hale used to be a step aerobics instructor before joining the club’s crew, he said. 

Watching Hale yell a patron’s name as he stirs drinks and dances, people would never guess he’s introverted, he said. He started dancing behind the bar years ago, when he noticed people going to other bartenders for drinks. The liveliness in his steps brought customers his way once they caught on to his energy, Hale said. 

As the “dancing bartender,” Hale hopes to convey “positivity and love to make people feel like family,” he said. 

He’ll keep dancing as long as his “knees stay good,” he said. 

Club Escape is a family and always will be, said Antonio Trotter, a patron for 15 years. 

“The people, vibe, music and show on Saturday makes it feel like home,” Trotter said. 

The South Side club is one of few Black clubs that cater to all ages of the LGBTQ+ community, Trotter said. 

“It’s a safe space,” he said. “It’s a good time. We stick together.”

It’s nearly 12:30 a.m. when Mz. Ruff N’ Stuff steps on stage to “Encore” by Cheryl Lynn — her lithe steps accentuated by knee-high silver high-heel boots. Club Escape nearly has a full house despite the thunderstorms outside. 

In its heyday, Club Escape was packed with a large crowd of guys, Burger said. Some of those familiar faces are older now and choose not to come out. But many, like those with outstretched dollars, waiting for Mz. Ruff N’ Stuff to stop by, still call Club Escape home. 

The club isn’t going away anytime soon, Burger said. A decade from now, he said he’ll still be at Club Escape, watching the lights hit the stage as the show begins. Even if something were to happen to him, Burger said he has instructed his partner that he can’t sell the club.

“I have a standard line,” Burger said. “‘It’s not for sale.’”