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It was a great time and I enjoyed it so much before the AIDS epidemic. We had Sunday afternoon brunch that was so popular it usually wound up on the crowded street outside the bar on Sunday afternoons and kept up like that until the wee hours of the morning. No sex or drugs were allowed in the bar, but you can rest assured that a lot of that stuff went on under the now gone West Side highway, the Piers across the street that were no longer in use and the parked 18 wheeler trucks too. A beer was only 75 cents and mixed drinks started at $1.25, so it was kind of easy to set up at the bar and buy your bud's a drink without going broke.
The bar was owned and operated solely by a wonderful straight man from Spain,
John Seone, who would also I had the same customers every day so you know they felt at home. I could buy as many drinks for the guys that I wanted and they even had Holiday dinners on the house as well. The bar stood open until 4 am and some nights we didn't get out until close to 6 am, because we sort of had a crew that would stay behind and would go to all the after-hours bars in the village, like the Cell Block, Anvil or the Mine Shaft. In late 1979, there was a shooting at the Ramrod, right after I left the bar on a summer night, a little after 8 pm. Seems a minster's son, who thought he was supposed to meet some hustler at our bar (which hustlers were not allowed in) and had an Israeli machine gun and shot up the bar from outside through the glass windows, killing 15 men and wounding critically, another 30 or more men.
So in 1980, I started working at the Spike on 11th Avenue and 20th Street. I was manager there as well. It was a real hot bar, all leather and we even had bike christenings inside the bar with about 20 to 30 motorcycles. But that's another story. Best to you all, Richie Jackson
Richie behind the bar at the Ramrod in the Mid 70's - - Richie and Paul (a floorman at the Ramrod) Outside the Ramrod Below are thumbnails of all the pins on Richie's two vests, and a few other artifacts that Richie has sent me.
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Hi, my name is Richie Jackson. I worked as day manager of the Ramrod which
was located on West Street between Christopher and West 10th Streets, from when
it was opened in 1973 until early 1980. our bar was strictly leather and
western. In those days, unfortunately no women were allowed in the bar
(fag hags) as they were known, unless they were into the leather scene and came
in with guys from motorcycle clubs and brotherhood clubs from New jersey and
Connecticut.
give away steak sandwiches and made sure all the guys
were always fed after drinking all day. It was like a home for a lot of gay men,
without the Ramrod, they would have no where to go to meet anyone.
It was a bloodbath. I heard it on the radio on my way home and I turned my
car around and got back there in a flash. There was blood all over
everywhere and cops trying to understand what had just happened. No need
to tell you how upset I and all the others were. We have never had
anything like this happen before. We had complete control over the
village. It was - OURS - but this guy was mentally sick.
