Goodnight Mr. Lewis: House of Yes and Closing L Train May Keep Brooklyn Cool

Photography: Audrey Penven
Nightlife at its best is a love fest—a place where even birds with broken wings can soar. Back in the day, cultures collided in the best places in town, artists, performers, dancers and even clowns were all celebrated. There were thriving places where envelopes were pushed, edges redefined. Drag queens could make a pretty penny dancing on bars, affirming to the Wall Streeters and bridge and tunnel sets in attendance that they, indeed, were hanging in a super hip place. Today, or tonight, there are very few places where drag queens dance on bars. The segregation of cultures is more profound in nightlife than maybe in society as a whole. There are those who live to challenge this theory. It was and still is Susanne Bartsch, Johnny, Chi Chi, the Mother Crew and others still thriving in the cracks and yes, there is the House of Yes: a place for smiles, laughter and eureka moments—for shock and awe. HOY is a place to belong—a place to say yes.
The Brooklyn nexus of Williamsburg/Greenpoint/Bushwick, a creative cauldron for all that goes bump in the night, is under attack. Real estate developers seeking that cauldron of gold at the end of that creative rainbow have put up a continuous string of dormitories for slaves pushing the wayward types farther away from the L train and connections to the Manhattan money stream. The hipster sprawl has attracted those who live to swarm around the creative light that starving artists and musicians have developed. Their credit cards have encouraged Duane Reades and mainstream boutiques to open and thrive. It is a D-Day level beachhead that has nearly transformed Nirvana into Pleasantville. Yet all is not lost as House of Yes and other stalwarts exploit the yuppie bucks and employ the star struck, bringing joy to the world.
Photography: Audrey Penven
On a typical Saturday night, Manhattanites with tourists in tow command the lifeline of the Brooklyn creative cauldron: the L Train. Over the last decade or so, the Bridge and Tunnel types, with real jobs and real credit have migrated from the outer boroughs and now live the Manhattan dream. Like frenzied Salmon, they now swim upstream to mate in the old, forever changed hoods. A few years ago, most got off at Bedford Avenue, but now the hoards go three, even five stops, inland looking for that good time. Their money supports the clubs, bars and boutiques that pay the rent of the artistes, but it also dilutes the Gene pool—a Catch 22.
Suddenly, a new hope may have come in the form of disaster. At some table of suits, it was determined that the L train must be shut down for repairs—some say for a year, but other reports whisper of three or more. The inconvenience of it all just may save the hood from eating itself. The starving artists know how to survive such troubles; they’ll ride their bikes in a foot of snow, run to work or take three trains. The newbie crowd, the non-creatives that panic if their lattes are made with whole milk, might decide to opt out for Long Island City or Hoboken, which I hear are both very nice.
I ate at Forrest Point, Bushwick among my brethren and thought the end of civilization as I know it may not be nigh. It was mid afternoon when Kae Burke, one of the founders and partners at The House of Yes, and old friend Eric Schmalenberger, a HOY board member, house curator and performer, gave me the 2 cent tour. It all started with the bathrooms, each a work of art, each a vision of how things should be. I was showed stages, back rooms, go-go cages and Boardwalk Empire relics. My head spun, I decided this was it—a place I could hang my hat, a place where moments could occur, where talented people could push their limits, and therefore a community’s. Kae told me how a shoe company might want to promote their product, tap into the scene-maker crowd that’s attending rather regularly. She said if such a thing must be done, HOY would produce it, mimicking a giant shoe coming down on her. I laughed and I seldom laugh in Manhattan anymore unless Johnny Dynell or Chi Chi Valenti are doing something. HOY was reminding me of Mother, the seminal Meatpacking joint where everything was everything, so I asked Kae to tell BlackBook about what she calls “our accidental nightclub.”
She wrote me a book, which I’ve edited down, so you can absorb her energy:
“House of Yes has become so much more than we ever anticipated. Some things in life are planned. Sometimes with a project, you have a whole projection of what you’re doing and how it will make money and succeed and an exit strategy and how you’ll make it all happen. House of Yes, throughout the years, just kind of happened. Organically, magically, one of those weird destiny things.
Photography: Audrey Penven
Photography: Audrey Penven
Photography: Audrey Penven
Eric added:
“The first time I walked into House of Yes I had no idea what it was and I was mad as hell that something so incredible existed and I wasn’t involved. When I was in college, I remember describing my perfect life as being a member of a group of artists, spectacle makers, performance artists, camp queens, and fearless creators who collaborated to make things that were thrilling, outlandish and beautiful, and there I was in the middle of it. About a year later, I was cast in my first House of Yes production. From that point on, I was hooked and found myself braver and more excited with each challenge. I always joke that it’s called ‘House of Yes,’ not, ‘House of Maybe,’ and I find myself saying, ‘Yes,’ to the unexpected here all the time.
I think that’s one of the reasons I love this space and this community. It encourages the unexpected and the surprising to take place, and it encourages the risk taking and the trust to take that risk. This whole community and club are built on that trust. Two weeks ago, I walked into the club before a variety show and was told by Kae and Anya that they had an idea involving me for an act that night where I’d be chased up the wall sculpture above the bar by crazed sexy clown girls, attached onto a zip line and then flown high above the audiences heads in my daring escape. For a circus space, I am very much a ground performer, but I trusted my friends and that night I found myself about 17 feet above the heads of a thrilled audience (while wearing sequins of course). Each day is an adventure; each day is bringing in new artists, creators, nightlife innovators and fun makers to join in that adventure. What more could a boy ask for?”
House of Yes is one of the reasons to live in NYC, putting up with L train closings, the high rents and all that Jazz . Go there ASAP, it’s the best place in town.