Who is to blame for the 2020 closure of Hamburger Mary’s? Richard Reuben, the attorney for defendant Chuck Pfoutz, argued that the primary factors were Covid and the controversy surrounding the firings of legendary entertainers Alexis Principle and Krista Versace, which resulted in protests outside the restaurant.
Pardue argued that Pfoutz’s negative reviews were to blame, and, according to Reuben, sought $325k in damages. The divided jury awarded Pardue $25k, with three jurors refusing to sign off on the award. In a city known for having the highest jury awards in the nation, the relatively paltry sum was notable, but still a win for the aggrieved Pardue.
Reuben plans to appeal, and to file an Intentional Infliction of Emotional Distress claim against Pardue, so the 5-year Hamburger Mary’s saga is far from over.
Pfoutz was all smiles as he headed home to Florida this morning, taking it all in stride.
Patrick Manary and Nate Stickle are banned from most St. Louis LGBTQ establishments
Well, that was random. Local pariah Patrick Manary contacted former St. Louisan and current Palm Springs-area resident Mike Campise last night, triggered by an innocuous comment Campise made on this image I shared to Facebook.
The 1:00 am rant was a real doozy, yet it was classic Manary madness. Manary accused Campise of contacting Manary’s on gain, off again boyfriend, Nate Stickel, and said he’s been in contact with the FBI and Republican Senators about federal crimes he alleges the mild-mannered Campise committed. Manary vowed to find out where the retired Campise works, and impact his ability to earn a living.
Cake artist Mike Campise is beloved for baking cakes for the community free of charge. He relocated to California after the unexpected death of his longtime partner.
Manary, who apparently doesn’t understand how to look up property records in St. Louis, also claimed we don’t own our house, and said he watches everything we post.
It seems the holidays haven’t been happy for Manary and Stickle. The latter spent his Christmas trolling Kage over text.
When considering the judges on the sample ballot, I remembered that Broniec and Gooch tried to block the abortion question from appearing on the ballot, so many are planning to vote against retaining them. Then I saw a name that caused my stomach to sink. Judge Craig Kennedy Higgins. I weighed the pros and cons of tearing off this scab and sharing my story, and I still don’t know what the pros are, but I feel I have to speak out.
On the evening of October 12, 2022, two gay white men caused a racial incident at Grey Fox Pub, and then spent a year harassing the entire 3700 block of Potomac, which is bookended by Grey Fox on one end, the home I share with my husband, Kage, on the other. The pair, who are banned from nearly all of the city’s gay establishments, repeatedly wailed on the horn late at night and then drunkenly berated anyone who came outside to confront them.
While they had confrontations with numerous neighbors, Kage and I were their primary targets. Animal Control was called multiple times. On news articles about Black crime suspects, they would post that Kage matched the suspect’s description. They’d call 911 saying a woman was being assaulted by a Black man, leading to tense interactions with first responders, who didn’t automatically believe us when we said this was swatting and that no woman lived here. They placed a sex ad instructing numerous men to come into the house in search of a woman who wanted a rape fantasy scenario. This resulted in two men actually entering our home, and others attempting to. When one intruder reached into his pocket upon encountering me, I fully expected to be shot.
Judge Craig Kennedy Higgins was appointed by Republican Governor Parson
On March 14, 2023 we were granted an Ex Parte Order of Protection, which the pair violated by tearing up our garden, covering my car with the destroyed plants, and yelling at the house.
About a month later we sought to extend the order. Judge Craig Kennedy Higgins looked at us and, before hearing any evidence, lectured us about how people with real issues couldn’t be heard that day because he had to deal with “this circus.”
I knew then that this was not only going to be pointless, but brutal. I wanted to get up and leave, but that didn’t feel like an option.
We had hired an attorney, and were armed with a mountain of evidence including video and a recorded confession. Higgins showed absolutely no interest in our testimony, or in reviewing the evidence. He didn’t seem to care that the emergency order was violated. He had to repeatedly scold the respondents for their rowdy behavior, and he called them “children,” but allowed them to cross examine us about our sex life.
In the end, he said our lives weren’t in danger, and we can’t use the courts to cancel people we don’t like. Emboldened, the pair soon came to my workplace where they mugged the 60-something female receptionist while calling her a whore.
Higgens’ inaction led to a neighborhood being repeatedly woken and harassed, and a woman being mugged. With the stroke of his pen, he could have served the citizenry of St. Louis. He preferred not. If it wasn’t anti-gay bias, I can’t imagine the reason.
I’m under no illusions that our story will derail Judge Higgins’ career, but I hope that calling attention to his flagrant disregard will somehow lead to LGBTQ+ St. Louisans being treated more justly than we were.
In dreams, the spaces we inhabit are reshuffled, but just as familiar. That’s the best way I can describe my first visit to Denver’s Casa Bonita. All of the elements of the defunct Tulsa location I loved growing up were there, but were more wondrous.
While Tulsa’s location was essentially one level, with false upper windows and balconies, the Denver location had several levels teeming with activity. The silver mines were actually below grade, the balconies held joyous parties, and unlike the waterfall at the Tulsa location, this one had svelt cliff divers.
Adding to the nostalgia, the experience was shared with a friend I met in Tulsa three decades ago, who now lives in Denver. He’s the type of friend you might not see for 10 years, but when reunited, you pick right back where you left off.
The food is unquestionably superior today, but nobody ever went for the food. We certainly didn’t travel 800 miles for it.
There was no greater treat as a child than going to Casa Bonita, and if my fanciful little mind dreampt of it back then, I imagine it looked much like the Denver flagship.
Imagine making a wrong turn, but being too proud to backtrack, instead just wandering off into oblivion. As crazy as that sounds, it’s something we sometimes do in our social lives. This is especially true for those who fall into what I call “social cults,” where one manipulative personality wreaks havoc on others’ personal relationships and reputations.
Have you been pressured into starting conflict with someone you’d never had conflict with? Have you befriended someone you normally wouldn’t, simply because of a common enemy? Have you done things that damaged your reputation, or made you ashamed, in service of a person or group?
Not long ago, a trans woman named Rachel recruited many in her effort to smear her enemies in the lesbian and trans communities, even trying to get people fired from jobs. Today, Rachel, who now goes by Ray Alex Williams, is a detransition activist on YouTube.
Well, that’s awkward.
How will those once under Rachel’s spell, but since denounced by this person, respond when coming across those they had viscously targeted? To avoid this, some may skip Pride celebrations altogether.
In another situation, a person was so swept up in a similar social cult that they even followed the leader’s enemies into restaurants and tried to get them kicked out. The group later turned on that person, canceled them in St. Louis, and they left town. While most don’t leave town, they do choose to live within the confines of the narrower community they find themselves in, or they drop out of the social scene altogether, as opposed to admitting they had made a mistake.
A simple apology is the first step in undoing a world of damage, and it’s easier than you think. While it may not be immediately accepted, it typically neutralizes bad blood and paves the way for healing. It helps close an ugly chapter, and hopefully keeps that chapter from defining you, or charting your course.
Pride is a big family reunion, and you should drop your pride and go. Take this opportunity to make a U-turn, and when you come across someone you may have wronged, simply say, “I got swept up in bullshit, and I’m sorry.”
