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I loved the way Gyllenhaal's Candy stands up for the “us” when she explains how sex work is a job like any other, after a kid celebrating his birthday whines for a freebie, saying that he came so fast, he didn’t get his money’s worth. From being the US in the US against THEM way of the world. Why would any girl move there from Minnesota, like The Deuce’s Lori (Emily Meade), or in my case, from Long Island? In The Deuce, the backstabbing is there - and it was - but not the camaraderie, that certain sense of safety you got from being with your own tribe. The Deuce makes it all feel flat, dark, and hopeless, like a black hole you get sucked into with no way out. We ran scams, double-crossed each other, and slept with each other’s men, or with each other. The Deuce almost gets there, but Leon’s is missing, like the rest of the show, the fun. A large, loud, dysfunctional and often dangerous family, but still, family. When you were at the PorkPie or Bernards or Tin Pan Alley, you were with family. I can only assume Leon’s is an amalgam of real-life locales Bernards (filled day and night with girls from the Melody Burlesque, boys from the Gaiety, live sex show performers on breaks between shows, street pimps, working girls, strippers and the occasional performing midget) and the PorkPie (a pimp bar where players came to trade girls, girls came to find a pimp, and youngblood came to learn the trade from old school). Times Square was a complicated little town to live in then, and in The Deuce, the closest thing to the feel of old Times Square is the chaos of a bar called Leon’s. Years later, real-life wiseguy, Matty “the Horse” Ianniello, and guys like The Deuce’s Vincent who fronted for him for all those strip joints, gay bars and massage parlors, would get busted on racketeering, fraud, and tax evasion. The mob owned most, if not all, of these places, and neither customers nor employees were likely to, or even able to, complain to the cop about if there was trouble. Porn theaters, strip joints, massage parlors, and gay bars - “respectable” people couldn’t afford to be seen going in or out of there in 1971. With guys like Vincent providing a clean signature as a front, mob money and collections rackets worked smoothly in the back.
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In The Deuce, Vincent (James Franco) may be an earner, but more importantly than that, he is a name on a liquor license or a lease - first, he’s offered a bar ( Tin Pan Alley in life, the Hi-Hat in The Deuce), and then a massage parlor (which I’m hoping will be the infamous Luxor Baths, where topless dancers from the nearby strip joints sent our customers for $10 happy endings, having already taken the rest of their money). The Mob was deeply entrenched in Times Square specifically, and New York City in general, and its presence was evident in everything from the placement of cigarette machines to the shadowy owners of everything and anything slightly shady. Times Square was dirty and run-down, a place tourists were afraid to go with good reason, but a place they came to anyway.
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The Deuce, set ‘71, is a little bit before me, but while the facades and storefronts might have changed or been conflated for the story, the look of the show is on point. I made Times Square my home in 1977, when I started working big and small strip joints that lined Broadway and all the little streets that branched off. It was a place you went to start a new life, drop an old one, or just disappear. Times Square, well beyond moral bankruptcy, was the epicenter of a beautiful, dark, dirty, and steamy flower of desperation. By 1975, New York City was teetering on the edge of financial bankruptcy. Two sides of the same coin, the male strippers and working girls both depended on those men who passed through and preferred to remain anonymous. Working girls, like The Deuce’s Candy (Maggie Gyllenhaal) and Thunder Thighs (Pernell Walker), relaxed in the last rows of the little theater, giving their feet, and other well-worked parts, a well-deserved rest, while hooting, laughing, and catcalling the boys on stage. I first showed up in Times Square in 1974, accompanying my friend Terry to his shifts at the Gaiety Burlesque, an all-male strip joint with non-stop naked or on-their-way-to-naked boys on stage, and $10 blowjobs backstage.
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No one is having any fun or laughter at all with the exception of Paul (Chris Coy), The Deuce’s gay bartender, who is busy being gay in the '70s, a full decade before AIDS. Terrible things happened, but the fun and money, and the sex and drugs, outweighed the terrible things.Īnd there is none of that in David Simon’s version of The Deuce. There was fear and antagonism between the races in 1971, but in the middle of all of that, life was fun. For one, the race-mixing was not that casual. There is a lot The Deuce gets right about “the Deuce,” as Times Square was known to some in the ‘70s.