Galluccio isn’t out of commission himself. “We see things are starting to pick up again.”ĭespite his arthritis and advancing age, Mr. “But people like to see what they’re getting in person,” Mr. It remains open, despite the popularity of hookup apps like Grindr. He is also a partner in the Westside Club, gay bathhouse in Chelsea, which opened in 1995. “Ninety percent of our audience is straight: bachelorette parties, anniversaries, divorce parties,” he said. In 1996, he opened Lips, a drag bar on East 56th Street that has offshoots in San Diego, Atlanta and Fort Lauderdale. Galluccio now runs other nightclubs, as well as restaurants and hotels.
Galluccio replied: “Dad, you’re not allowed unless I accompany you.” In fact, six months after it opened, he did so, and his father liked the place so much he joked about wanting to become a regular. “I wanted a place to bring my parents to,” he said. We found out what was going on and said, ‘You’re not welcome here.’” “There were young guys who were attracted to older men and now knew where to find them,” Mr. In 1989, he spotted an apartment building on East 58th Street that was for rent, and he and a business partner, Bob DeBenedictis, signed a lease and opened the Townhouse. Infuriated, he decided to open a piano bar of his own. Galluccio tried to go back to that bar himself and was ignored by the doorman. Galluccio would not name him, because he is not openly gay.) In 1988, while he was at a gay piano bar in the East 50s (he thinks it was called Regent East), he met and fell in love with a distinguished young man in the hotel business, with whom he had a 17-year relationship.
Women right away say, ‘I want to get married.’” “Sometimes I liked the guy, sometimes the girl. “Guys and girls were picking me up,” he said. (He considers his daughter, Pamela Galluccio Riccio, 51, a real estate agent who lives in Eastchester, N.Y., his best friend.)Īfter the split, he went out clubbing a lot in Manhattan, at places like Adam’s Apple, a disco and restaurant on East 61st Street.
He was married to a woman at the time, but he divorced her in 1972, after 12 years of marriage. That same year, he got sidelined into retail, and in 1960 he opened Paul Scott Ltd., a boutique in New Rochelle, N.Y., which forced him to turn down a job with the Benny Goodman Orchestra. Born and raised in Hawthorne, N.J., he dropped out of Hawthorne High School at 16 to pursue playing the clarinet, sax, flute and piano. Galluccio did not set out to become a nightclub owner. “Our regular customers are in Palm Springs,” he added. “The older people don’t go out as much,” he said. On weekend nights, the smaller lounge downstairs now features shirtless go-go boys of all races, writhing to European disco. Galluccio has been courting those without AARP memberships. If the crowd seemed slightly younger than it used to be, that’s no accident. Galluccio said, noticing a 20-something guy with sandy blond hair and cargo shorts, sitting with an older man on the banquette. There was also a group of men in their mid-30s, all wearing T-shirts and drinking martinis.
Galluccio scanned the crowd, which included a septuagenarian in a Polo shirt and pink pants chatting with a guy half his age, who wore sunglasses. (People of color have not always felt welcome there.) Its website advises against baseball caps, gym wear, ripped clothing, oversize jeans and do-rags. The Townhouse, which turns 30 next year, is also the rare gay bar that enforces a conservative dress code.