YOUNG,SEXY&WELLHEELEDBy Les Wiseman

Twenty years ago the pubs were integrated.Now some are full of men again. Guess why?

Down in Japanese town, you have to watch where you step. Asyou stand in a corner store at Powell and Dunlevy, waiting to

buy a pack of cigarettes, a guy in navy blue eye bags and pinstripe nosewill engage you in a one-sided conversation on the hopelessness of tryingto get a job if you have been in the "joint" for the past six months. Youoffer him· a couple of smokes, holding the door open as a long-hairedfellow about 35 and legless, wheels his way past. Cheryl Ladd, peeringup from the glossy cover of TV and Movie Star Parade, smiles cleanlyunaware of this side of the tracks.

Across the street, the amateurishly drawn green-and-orangesilhouette of a woman beckons you through The Marr hotel's butcherblock door. Inside, in the dark, Kiss's thunderous heavy metal musicdrowns out your depressed maunderings. In the center of the room,swathed in red and blue stage lights, a tall, slim woman with soft,straight brown hair down to her thighs, sways and sashays about thestage. Her face: the fragile cheekbones of a high fashion model. Herexpression: serene, with that frail, ethereal melancholia that bringslumps to the throats of strong men.

Youfumble for a seat, and a heavy pint glass of cold, frothing beer isset in front of you. Fishing a deuce from your pocket and waving thewaiter out of your field of vision, you sip through the frosty foam, allthoughts of the ugliness beyond these walls a vaguely rememberedchimera. Yourelax, and bless the day you were born.

At least that's the way it has always affected me.

The Princes And The Showgirl: Marr Hotel owners Jack Cooney (left, inset) andDarcy Taylor transformed two low-key Powell Street beer parlors into glitteringmini-show lounges featuring non-stop strippers. Onstage, one of the performances atThe Marr's Best of Burlesque charity benefit; $12,000 was donated to the VarietyClub Telethon by the Vancouver Exotic Dancers Association.

Stars,Three-PointedAnd Otherwise:Sam Sarich,co-owner of theCecil and YaleHotels, providesfriendlycompetition forthe cross-townDrake and Marr.Top drawerdancers (clockwisefrom top left) areLittle Mary,Samantha, Susen,Tarren, Danielleand Topaz

For oft, when on my couch I lieIn vacant or in pensive mood,They flash upon that inward eyeWhich is the bliss of solitude;And then my heart with pleasure fills,And dances with the daffodils.

William Wordsworth,I wandered Lonely As a Cloud

On one wall hangs a sepia-toned arch-ive photo of a bunch of rough lookingrogues, posing in front of The Marr hotel in1890 when it accommodated workers atHastings Mills, then one of Vancouver'smajor industries. Today, co-proprietor JackCooney, whose family has owned the hotelsince 1969, stands behind the bar, eagle-eyeing his patrons, watching for theslightest sign of discontent. With somepride he says that The Marr possessesVancouver's longest held liquor licence,but confesses that until recently he hatedthe place and wanted out. It had become alongshoreman's bar, near the dispatch halland Richmond Transfer, and pension andwelfare check days were especially uglythere. In 1976, he and partner DarcyTaylor acquired The Drake hotel, twoblocks east on Powell Street. Their formulawas simple: with no spare cash for majorrenovations, they vowed that every fixturewould be clean. "Even if you were sittingon an apple box, it would be clean andpainted," Cooney laughs.

Two blocks west, at Powell and Main,Number Five Orange Street, owned byLeon and Harry Brandolini, had been

turning a good coin since 1975 by featuringcontinuous exotic dancers in a beer parlorformat. The Drake, with its new stage,larger bar and better parking, had only onedancer, appearing hourly. It had fewercustomers, too. Cooney and Taylor addeddancers one at a time as their cash flowpermitted, and business began to snowballas word spread that The Drake washappening. The washrooms were remod-eled and kept spotless, and the hotel,hitherto as good a place as any to walk intofor a quick broken nose, became known torexpedient dispatch of scrappers and boors.More and more three-piece suits were tobe seen among the mackinaws, and moreand more beer was sold. The upgradingcontinued: wallcoverings, upholstery, a$60,000 bar. Friends contributed thelabor, and Cooney and Taylor paid them offa grand here, a grand there. Soon, a$35,000 sound system was pounding outthe bump and grind beat. Despite margi-nal profits during this high capital outlayphase, they were sitting on a gold mine. "Ittook us about a year and a half before wewere really rolling as far as being recog-nized as somewhere you could go to watchexotic dancers," says Cooney.

While The Drake boomed, The Marrlimped along as precariously as many of itspatrons. In December 1979, Cooney tookover The Marr, to be joined six monthslater by Taylor. The winning formula wasapplied again. In went $35,000 worth ofsound equipment, graffiti-proof formica

washrooms, upbeat nature photographs,historical scenes and mural photos of topdancers. A stage with hydraulically risingcenter platform and $12,000 worth oflightswas installed. An enterprise that had beenkept afloat by dipping into The Drake'sprofits doubled its business virtually over-night. The strippers packed' em in.

This transformation from snake pit torenovated beer parlor cost about $200,000,but it was the investment of a further$175,000 that transformed The Marr frompub to show lounge and made it gold minenumber two. Back at The Drake, mean-while, another $210,000 is to be spent onnew decor, a hydraulic stage, and a kitchenfeaturing quality hors d'oeuvre-stylesnacks to replace the cello-packsandwiches.

Beside Taylor's sullen, efficient aloof-ness, Cooney is the enthusiast, his aquilinefeatures dead earnest as his speech warmsto the tone he usually reserves for his otherpassions, hockey and boxing (he and Taylorown 20 percent of heavyweight boxerGordon Racette's contract). "We're bothvery hot. We've got big egos, and as long aswe've got the energy, we'd rather havepeople know our spots as being thenumber one spots in town. So we'reprepared to lose a little profit and spend alittle more money to put ourselves in thatposition. It costs us an awful lot of money tokeep these doors open.

"We're sitting on two hotels that do anexceptional amount of sales in liquor.

Because of the way we run them, mainte-nance is an important factor: cleanliness,service. If you could come in and run itwith two waiters, we'll have three; whereyou might have one bartender, we'll havetwo. In order to get people in here in thefirst place we have to have the dancers, andwe pay the dancers the top price in town.When you look at the gross, it's veryimpressive: when you look at our net, mypartner and I make a comfortable living-and that's about the size of it."

There are basically three parts todowntown Vancouver's strip barsuccess story, the third being The

Cecil hotel at the north end of theGranville Street bridge. In contrast toCooney's gung-ho intensity, Cecil co-owner Sam Sorich adopts a relaxed, easygoing image. Although the competitionbetween them is constant and highpitched, it is friendly and Sorich readilyacknowledges that the Powell Street bars'successes were behind his decision to turna fairly low key bar into a high volume stripshowroom.

Like Cooney, Sorich came from ahotel-owning family, his father havingbeen proprietor of Gastown's EuropeHotel from 1954 to 1978. He learned thebusiness doing odd jobs, and waiting ontable in the beer parlor, and attendingcollege and BCIT courses in hotel man-agement. He took over the Europe in1975, and sold it in 1978.

When Sorich and partner Grant Lewbought The Cecil two years later, it alreadyhad a stage where a dancer did two showsper day. Sorich quickly hired a designer,and kept the place open as $160,000 worthof renovations were undertaken. At itsofficial "re-opening" in March 1981, TheCecil featured a 13-foot-diameter stagewith mirrored ceiling, good sound system,proper stage lighting, and such cosmeticsas carpeting, wallpaper, tables andcouches. Booking eight dancers (four day,four night) from the town's top agency,International Artists, and paying them topwages had the desired effect. Word spreadthat the Powell Street axis had beenextended, and soon The Drake and Marrraised their wages to keep top dancers.

"One of the things I want to stress,"Sorich stresses, "is the competitive edgethat dancers give us over other hotels andneighborhood pubs. They can't compete.On an average day we'll gross $6,000 inliquor sales; during the Stripathon wepulled in $10,000 in one day. As far as ourbusiness goes we are certainly in the top 10in liquor sales of what could be called 'barhotels' in the Lower Mainland." Onceagain, much of this revenue is directed toconstant upgrading. Sorich also notes thatThe Cecil and its neighbor, The Yale,which he purchased in July 1981, are closeto B.C. Place, which should be good forfuture business.

As the owner, Sorich can choose whichdancers will perforfu on his stage. "The

Cecil is a whole different animal than TheDrake or Marr," he says. "The crowd is alot more mellow, and the raunchier actsthat work down there wouldn't work in thisroom. We want very clean shows, andthere are some dancers who will neverwork here."

Fifteen years ago, Jeannie Runnallsbegan working in the back office ofIsy's, the legendary supper club

and later burlesque house, looking afterbooks that Isy Walters had until then keptin his head or on loose scraps of paper.Today, sitting in her office on The Drakehotel's second floor, she handles about 400phone calls daily as co-owner and majoradministrator of International Artists, theprovince's largest ,and highest profilebooking agency for exotic dancers. Inter-national supplies approximately 200female and 30 male strippers to some 105hotels throughout B.C. The various ven-ues and performers are categorized as A,B or C level (the dancers mentioned hereare all A level, as are the Marr, Drake andCecil, each of which utilizes Interna-tional).

"Dancers aren't your typical bankteller types, "Runnalls understates, notingthat her agency has turned a lot of potentialstreet people into business people.Talented dancers can come into towncompletely broke, be auditioned by Jean-nie, usually in the working environment ofthe C-Ievel Yale, then booked around someof the B bars until they can afford propercostumes and music. Within weeks-ifthey already have their own gear-theycan be earning up to $680 per six-day weekfor five shows on day shift, or $830 for sixshows on night shift.

The occupational amenities are good,too. Dressing rooms with showers, lock-ers, makeup tables and color TV are therule in the top bars (Cooney providespersonalized cover-up outfits for the trekfrom stage to dressing room) and populardancers may take as much time off as theywant with no fear of being unemployedafterwards. Nor are the dancers the onlyones who benefit. Runnalls estimates thatInternational Artists is now taking in$250,000 yearly, all with very little outlay.

On the west side of the 1000 blockRichards Street is one of burles-que's last strongholds, Joe Philli-

poni's legendary Penthouse Cabaret. Asyou walk toward the Gold Room showlounge, taking in the autographed picturesof ecdysiasts past, you double-take on thedarkly handsome hostess. Backstepping afew feet, you check out the large photo of awoman wearing only pasties and G-string.Same face. As for the rest, the flesh-and-blood version is dressed very businesslike.After eight years of retirement, though,she returned to the stage for a singleperformance on New Year's Eve 1981, andthe crowd went wild, giving her a standingovation. Joe Philliponi smiled in thebackground, had a drink and remembered;

MARCH/82 VANCOUVER 31

Between January and February 1970 the Cafe Kobenhavn audience includeda few police officers who thought they had seen obscene performances.

Provincial Court Judge David Moffett acquitted the nightclub and itsemployees~of all charges. "Following the decision,'; said the Vancouver

Sun, "four other clubs in Vancouver decided to take it all off."

after all, this was Dee Dee Special, thestriptease dancer who inaugurated theGold Room 14 years ago. She is a grand-mother today, which is all she will ~eveal ofher age, and her daughter, Daniell~ Dean,carries on the tradition at The Perlthouse:the glamorous sequined costumes, thebelief defYing tassel twirling, the bathingin a giant champagne glass, evena perfor-mance involving two live cockatoos!

An East Coast dancer since 1953, DeeDee was just the seasoned veteran Philli-poni needed to get the Gold Roomhopping when she came to B.C. in 1967.Under her guidance, two other dancersand a nine-piece jazz band were hired andthus was launched an entirely differentstrip world than that of the modern-daybeer parlors. The Penthouse uses nobooking agency, Philliponi preferring toimport acts from his travels around theU. S., especially Vegas. A strong believerin G-strings, he permits only a briefexposure of total nudity in the Gold Room.Upstairs in the Mirror Room, though,lunching businessmen are entertained bymore revealing performances, if on a lessgrand scale.

Three years after Dee Dee got down toher pas ties and G-string at the Penthouse,32 charges of presenting an obsceneperformance were laid jointly against fouradministrative personnel and four dancersof the Cafe Kobenhavn, a coffee house-cum-bottle club at 968 Main between theAmerican and Ivanhoe Hotels. Billingitself as "the funkiest little dive in Van-couver," the Kobenhavnwas run by fel-lows who rode motorcycles and did nicethings like transporting 30 veterans fromShaughnessy Hospital down to drink com-plimentary beer while ogling youngwomen cavorting nakedly to the sounds ofa live rock band.

The Kobenhavn ushered in the con-temporary style of stripping devoid ofVegas trappings. Occasionally, the audi-ence would include the young JackCooney, then unaware how such enter-tainment would later affect his life. On theevenings of January 25 and February 16and 17, 1970, the audience also included afew undercover police officers who de-cided that they had seen obscene perfor-mances. On September 12, ProvincialCourt Judge David Moffett acquitted thenightclub and its employees of all charges,and shortly thereafter the Vancouver Sunreported, "Following the decision, fourother clubs in Vancouver decided to take itall off."

And later on in court, well, everybodythoughtThat a summer run in Gaol would beproposed,Butthe Judge said, "Patricia,Or may I say Delicia;The facts of this case lie before me ...Case dismissed ... this girl was in her.working clothes!!"

Chris de Burgh, Patricia the Stripper

The Drake had been spruced up forabout six months when, in March1979, Leanne drove by its Powell

Streetfacade.and, as she recalls it, let out aloud "Yecchh!" But she had been booked toperform there, the money was good ... soon with the show. Who couid have guessedthat the chemistry of dancer and bar wouldmake their names synonymous, or that themention of either would spur a Pavlovian"Let's go!" reaction in so many?

Up from exotic dancing in California,Leanne merely converted her floorwork toVancouver standards by removing herG-string, which resulted in a much boldershow than Drake patrons had seen before.And so "pink" dancing hit Vancouver. Overa thunderous ovation, the disc jockey'Svoice came through the speakers: "Thatwas Leanne, and I think she's going to be astar!"

The other dancers, appalled, refused totalk to her and moved their gear intoanother dressing room, but audienceswere at her feet. When she added baby oilto her act, every seat in the house filled upearly for her regular Friday five o'clockoiler. Nude posters came out of Leanne,Susen and Cherrie, Leanne promotinghers by sihingwith audience members andautographing the pictures with suggestiveinscriptions. They sold fast. Rustler, theCanadian men's magazine, ran a one-handed article on her, entitled The HottestStripper in the West, and radio DJs,affiicted with the f~ver, urged their listen-ers to go down to The Drake. Men sentroses, and one group made her a crown outof cut-up $50 and $100 biils. She was givena 24-bottle carton of baby oil. Her perfor-mances were bright moments in Taylor'sand Cooney's scheme of things.

If Leanne packed them in, the otherdancers did not exactly send them packing.The competition intensified for morepolished acts, more adventurous acroba-tics, nicer costumes and a hint of Leanne'sboldness. For the price ofa beer, you couldfeel that you were part of a phenomenon.Youknew you were where theaction was.

5 0 who are these sirens who lure men. away from their mock-chickenloaf-

on-white sandwiches to beer bars,and so enchant them that lunch hoursblend into entire afternoons? You cannottell the players without a program, ac-cording to the timeworn adage, and themini-profiles that follow are of ten ofVancouver's best known showroom strip-pers.

Tarren is The Scarlett O'Hara of dan-cers. Often in flowing, ruffied gowns, sheradiates confidence from the stage, ahaughty, distant presence until she smiles,full harlequin lips flashi):lg under heavylidded eyes. She recalls being embarras-sed at seeing her first stripper, yet now isone of the actively political dancers con-cerned with improving their image andrelationship with the community. Her sub-stantial gymnastic ability is demonstratedwhen she scratches her noSe with her toes.Frankly, it makes you give a damn.

Danielle came recently from Sac-ramento by way of Oklahoma; where shefirst danced in grungy, biker-owned bars,and has nothing but praise for the quantumleap in working conditions, costumes,makeup and professionalism of Vancouverdancers. She has gained local star statusperhaps from her trademark bondage cuffsand collar-which she mentions are morethan mere onstage accessories-as muchas from her habit of locking her eyes onprivileged audience members, thus en-suring their future attendance. Whatever,she is one of the most riveting performers."It's fun to tease," she says with a sly grin."It's fun to have the men's attention, and Ifeel like rm in control."

Topaz, the New Romantic dancer,came from Ottawa to the original NumberFive Orange Street, then moving to thetop-line circuit when that room changedmanagement. "When I was little, I used todress up all the time," she says with athroaty chuckle that contrasts sharply withher demure femininity. "Stripping givesme a chance to do it all day long, and getpaid for it." Offstage, she generally wearsblack leather, jet black hair framing herpale face, and haunts new wave nightclubsor plays her bass in such local punk bandsas Two Lovely Children and Braids andArthur. A local art collector, she will attendart school next year while continuing todance, inspired as she was by the slavedancing girls in John Norman's Chroniclesof Counter-Earth.

Cherrie is sequins, legs, eyelashes toLas Vegas, and a blur of synchronized

All Sides -'low:_-\"'k and Debbie~,-7:~,-,fnt the.•<-':cbreed of,:;JjJical dancer,:,;.-'_-rkingforan:";'''a- change,Old-timers JoeF~ilJiponi and DeeDt-<' Special, the5,,;[ l~fthe many,'-'-'''i.'mber how it:.t-.:;.; onstage atTht- Penthouse.It-annie Runnallsd'c,rc is the

'..~·,-~;.-tl'tt:nerofh.ti.'nwtionalArtists bookingCiZ,dlCY through'!I:hich manydl1nccrs lcork,'!i-h.ilcLeanne, theiYlncJcafor ofr,,;;:rmch,' poses asn-ickcd Wanda.

precision movement. Offstage, she pro-_~-ts a .\Ionroe-like softness and vulnera-bility. :\n original star at the Drake when it,~-as--still pretty shabby," she is acknow-ledged to be one of the best moving,k'l~·ers. and maintains that she learns her5teps from old TV movies and nevernractices or exercises. We should all be sof,~.d.~·.but then she does not sit in beerparlors socking back belly-builder.

Samantha, the Lady Godiva stripper,flips her neck to send a careful bundling ofcmwning glory cascading down to frameher torso and a regal, high cheekboned3~ce that denied her a modeling careerafter two-and-a-half years of training, she

le-arned that the girl-next-door quality wasmen in demand). A local veteran, shecreated one of the town's most extravagant5hows by reenacting Marie Antoinette'sfr:-.aJ davs. The sets and costumes werede5igned for Isy's, with hoop skirts so largeme,' could not be put on in the dressingTJO<Jms."It hada boudoir set and ajailscene"""t_"she recalls. "Music would come in.i:JJdreenact the French revolution. The5~agehand would dress up as the,f"'{ecutioner,and would take me away to}.ai1_and rd do my floorwork there. Then!:.e-d take me to the guillotine-and it was a:-e..J1guillotine. A drumroll would happen,=d off with the head."

Debbie once wanted to be a nurse, and:n 3. wa,· she is, but Florence Nightingale''''is never quite like this despite theT.ilning cap and stethoscope. Her uniform

of spangled smock and G-string, garterbelt, silk stockings and white high heelsseems more pre- than post-coronary."Dancing is really into a mellow state-just dancing to music," she says. ''I'mbored of that; I don't want it to be like anine-to-fIve job." To avoid that, she hasordered both a spy and military costume.There is something about a woman inuniform.

Susen, whose fans and ever-presentjade ornaments reflect her Cantoneseheritage, hopes to become a veterinarianwhen she retires from dancing. ''I'll beleaving one animal show for another," shejokes. She reflects a feeling commonamong dancers regarding the improvedvenues: "In a dungy bar you just don't feelsexy at all while you're up there. So, ofcourse, you're not going to put on a goodshow. But once you get in a room wherethere are people respecting you, and itlooks clean and well kept, then you'regoing to do everything you can to look likealady:"

Anne, back dancing with new en-thusiasm after a motorcycle mishap thatsidelined her for five months, will soonrelinquish her position as president of theVancouver Exotic Dancers Association.Her attitude toward the interplay betweenperformer and audience is summed up intypically sunny manner: "What a bunch oflucky guys. Four gorgeous women are upthere, taking their clothes off and dancingaround over and over again." Theories

concerning sexual repression in today'ssociety aside, she has caught the essence ofthe appeal.

Little Mary by her own admission"looks like Shirley Temple and sounds likePeter Lorre." At four-eleven and 90pounds, she says it 'is a serious business tofind 23-inch-waist jeans and size 4Vzshoes.An ex-Gary Taylor's Show Lounge andNumber Five Orange Street performer,she is noted for dancing in tap shoes toShirley Temple songs. Photographed byDavid Chan for Playboy's Girls of Canadafeature (Oct. 1980), she was cut from thepages, she claims because of her strippingcareer. She had a speaking part inParamount Picture's unreleased new wavemovie, All Washed Up, and also appearedin By Design which starred Patty DukeAstin. One of the few dancers to favor anafter-working-hours nightlife, Mary's mostrecent hobby is trading T-shirts with(presumably small) men in nightclubs.

Leanne has been stroked enough onpreceeding pages. Suffice it to say that,despite the natural waning of stardom, shecontinues to be a top drawer and anexperience not to be missed. Truly thebrazen harlot onstage, the girl with a heartof gold and a whip-quick wit offstage.

While traipsing about under thelights may look like glamor andglitter, the job does have its

hazards. Cherrie chuckles while recalling

an over-enthusiastic high kick that crackedthe bridge of her nose, plus several headbangings against the solid brass polesfeatured on some stages, and being stuckin a vertical splits when her heel caught ina low ceiling (an audience member step-ped up to free her). Cherrie's farewell tothe traditional baby oil show had its basis inbummer, too: "I used to do an oil show at1sy's, and I had bought this new white Borgcarpet that was really thick white fur. I wasall greased up and dancing to Jet' aime-French, sexy, orgasm music. And when Igot up, I had 'fuzz all over me. I wasspinning, and the fuzz was flying off inclumps with the oil. It was a totaldisaster-trying to be sexy, and the wholeplace was roaring."

Susen groans and covers her eyes asshe recalls one of her less graceful perfor-mances: "Naked as a jaybird, I went to doone flip too many, and I threw my back out.And they called the fire department andthe paramedics. Next thing you see isthese six or seven firemen up on the stage.The firemen were hams. One of them puthis jacket over me, and another picked thatoff me and put his jacket over me. Finally,the paramedics came and carried me outon a stretcher. The crowd was going crazy.They liked it; it broke the monotony thatday."

Anne tells ofa clumsy move early in hercareer when she had borrowed a tightdress from another dancer: "I was kind ofgiddy, dancing away, and I kicked, but the

skirt was so tight that when I kicked withmy top leg it pulled my bottom leg up withit. I just went splat, right down on thestage, and I just cracked up.

"Another time I was working at thisplace that had poles and a bar onstage. So,I was up on this bar, doing monkey tricks,and I got stuck up there and the only way Icould get down was to let go-boom-right down on the stage."

The dancers are not the only ones tosuffer, though. Tarren recalls a high kickthat launched one of her stiletto-heeledshoes through The Drake's smoky atmos-phere to hit one ofher nearby fans squarelyon the pate.

Then there are the simply touchingincidents, such as when Leanne, as aChristmas treat for her fans, spent agesaffixing baubles to a seasonally green satindress. The frenetic pace of her first dance,though, caused every bauble to fly off andshatter. "I cried," she says.

Despite the good working condi-. tions and the taste. of fame, there

is still the hackneyed, age-oldimage problem. Behind their hard-boiledunconcern'toward widespread perceptionof them as being promiscuous, drug-dependent prostitutes, there is always aglint of pain in the eyes of one-time littlegirls who made mom holdthe beach towelaround them when they changed intobathing suits. More distressing to some isthe prospect ofleaving a well-paid occupa-

tion based on the arguable premise ofyouth as beauty. No.one wants to be askedto leave, and pushing eight years in thebusiness is maximum. And the taint of thestripper can stick to an ex-dancer like BillSykes's dog, Bullseye. Will it ruin apotential career in modeling, acting,legitimate dancing, even wifehood?Motherhood? Are they thought of asgenuine screw-ups, even by those whocourt them? Losers or winners?

"A lot of people still don't know what'shappening," says Susen. "They think it'swild parties and every Tom, Dick andHarry. They don't realize that we do have aprivate life, that we've got families, kids tolook after. They think we're hookers andright on down with the trash."

Debbie elaborates: "The men whocome to see us come to see the entertain-ment value. They don't think about uswhen we go home to our children, to ourhusbands or girlfriends. They don't thinkabout us washing dishes, cooking supper,washing floors and doing the laundry. Theysee the entertainment value; they see animage up there. A woman who is sitting athome alone, cooking supper for her hus-band who isn't showing up because he's ina pub watching a stripper, has a wholedifferent viewpoint on strippers."

It was primarily to put a new face onthis old image that the Vancouver ExoticDancers Association was formed from JackCooney's original idea, actualized by Tar-ren. At Christmas 1981, VEDA's approxi-mately 70 members, strippers all, donated$3,000 to the Lions' Timmy' s ChristmasTelethon. Twomonths later, those immoralhedonists gave $12,000 to the Variety ClubTelethon to buy a bus for the handicapped,some of them manning volunteer informa-tion booths at the Queen Elizabeth Thea-ter. The funds were raised at four carwashes held last summer, at The Cecil'sStripathon, featuring 55 continuous acts,and The Man's Best of Burlesque, withseven hours of continuous novelty acts.Various private parties, at which atten-dance was by donation, added to thecharity fund.

VEDA looks after its own, allocatingfunds to members who have fallen on hardtimes. Recently, members picketedNumber Five Orange Street to protestwhat the association consider"ed a lewd actinvolving two dancers onstage simultane-ously. While neither a union nor negotiat-ing body, VEDA does give the dancers anopportunity to air problems they may havewith age1lcies or hotel owners and havethem dealt with on a soft line basis. .

"We think of it as a professionalassociation; we're not really militant," saysVEDA president, Anne, who helps buff uptheir self-held image as upright, respecta-ble citizens by appearing on TV and radioand by speaking at Lions Clubs andKinsmen's meetings. "Personally, I'm con-cerned with making a difference inpeople's opinions. I don't want people tothink I'm sleazy. I noticed that I really

Continued on page 145

STRIPPERS, continued from page 35didn't like the way that some peoplelooked at me because of what 1 do for aliving. 1 know that I'm a nice girl, and 1don't know any of the girls who areashamed of what they do. It's hard to saywhat the image is, but 1know what peoplesay about strippers, and 1 also know thatthe way it is in Vancouver is not like that."

Nevertheless, some dancers feelthat they are not going about theimage facelift the right way, and

much of it hinges on the aspect of "pink."Tarren, one of the more outspoken amongthem raises an eyebrow and sighs. "Now,you've got the spreaders and I've noticed achange in attitudes again because theybecome pretty explicit onstage. Everyoneand their dog does a baby oil act; it'sgetting so bad that the audience is actuallythrowing bottles ofbaby oil at you. There'sa lot of girls around who have absolutely notalent at all. The audience goes crazy forspreading, and these girls like to have theaudience reaction, so they get their egogratification. 1 have to work three timesas hard up there to get even near thereaction, because 1 don't spread. 1 re-member just about three years ago thatthere was a big stink happening becausethey wanted to put the G-strings back onthe girls. And now look at it! They'll behaving animals up there soon, becausebaby oil isn't enough."

"Sometimes you feel like a puppet on astring," Cherrie adds. "They almost tellyou by the feeling in the room what theywant you to do."

While no dancer interviewed here willadmit to an owner or agency asking her tomake her act more explicit, rumors persistthat cancelled bookings can result from anentertainer not giving the audience what itwants.

If it is the audience itself that issuspect, then, what do the dancers think ofthose fans cramming the houses? ''I'dnever go out with a guy who sat ongynecology row," says Anne, referring toseats adjoining the stage. "I don't see howthey can sit there and eat their lunch,"adds Samantha, aghast.

"You're basically performing to them(the front row)," says Topaz, rolling hereyes. "They're there for the pink, but thatdoesn't mean you have to show them any. 1try to block out all the slosh (weirdos) outthere. Luckily, 1 don't have very goodeyesight."

Expressing a common view, Topazremarks that an audience's open lust oftenmakes the dancer feel slightly cool towardthem. After all, you do not find too manyWarren Beatty lookalikes lounging aroundthese places. "We have to be a bit aloof todo our job. We feel a bit above them in away. 1 guess there's a bit of a superioritycomplex. We're the untouchables, and 1don't think we're easy catches."

For the price of a beer, though, they dokeep your mind offthe ugliness outside thedoor for awhile. •