Remembering Hugh Gage
John Peter Halford
13 April 2018
It was over fifty years ago that I first came to know the name Hugh Gage. He was playing one of the two pugnacious gangsters in the American Light Opera production of ‘Kiss Me Kate’ who show up to pay a decidedly unusual tribute to the Bard of Avon with “Brush up your Shakespeare” and I was immediately struck by his presence and delivery of the witty and smart mouth Cole Porter number.
The following season I was engaged by ALOC to design their revival of ‘The Desert Song’ and it was backstage at Baltimore’s Lyric Theatre that I had the pleasure to meet Hugh for the first time. He had by then become treasurer of the company. We worked well together on a number of shows and got along famously. It was the beginning of a long association although he could often be very demanding and occasionally very critical. Nevertheless he could also be amusingly caustic and annoyingly right.
The palmy days of ALOC were not to last and its history was brief but vivid before poor management caused its collapse in 1967 and I lost sight of Hugh for nearly a decade.
My own fortunes changed and some years later I chanced to be in the DC Eagle on a Saturday night when they were having a Uniform Night hosted by the Centaur Motorcycle Club, a leather club I knew little about save from acquaintances like Marc Cohen and John Bonnage, but feeling emboldened by wearing camouflage I ventured into the section of the bar restricted to leather folk where I thought I saw someone who looked like a young Hugh Gage – but on closer inspection turned out to be the same old Hugh Gage!
Hugh greeted me warmly and introduced me to other members of the club – to the new president, Lou Tuck, to the dynamic Tony Bachrach – and before the evening was over I was exhorted to attend one of the Centaur meetings where, I was told, “guests are always welcome.”
These monthly meetings were held at that time at Dick’s Bar on New York avenue (Dick being the former partner of Big Don Bruce who owned the DC Eagle), and it was here that my knowledge of the ways and doings of the Centaurs deepened with my closer involvement with the club, and gained their appreciation for what I was able to offer. After the 1987 Leather weekend wind-down dinner Hugh Gage, who was now the new president of the club, came up to me, addressed me firmly and demanded “Well, do you or do you not want to join this club?”
I was dumbfounded and at a loss for words but managed to stammer “Yes” and nod my head before being besieged by four club members who all were eager to sponsor my pledge application.
Pledgeship in most leather clubs was , in those days, de rigueur following tradition and ritual; but so far I had little interest beyond a nominal sense of fellowship and fraternity as well as taking pleasure working on projects for the club as Hugh and I resumed our friendship.
For Gay Pride in June, the club had asked me to design a float for its entry in the parade, and for Olympia that year I prepared the promotional materials and the cloisonné run- pin, by which time my pledge time was coming to an end. The decisive meeting in July was held at my house and when closed session demanded that I withdraw while the vote was taken; someone asked Hugh if they didn’t vote me in would they all have to go home? The invitation to membership was extended and I was honored to accept. Things changed substantially for me but Hugh remained a valuable friend, a staunch ally and a wise counselor for a good many years.