LETTERS From CAMP Rehoboth |
CAMP Memories: Rehoboth's Gay History - If the Nomad's Walls Could Talk! |
by Fay Jacobs and Libby Stiff |
This is one article in a series of remembrances, oral histories and tales of the way we were in gay Rehoboth during the Twentieth Century. The short vignettes are based on interviews, newspaper clippings and whatever lore has been passed down through the years in our gay-friendly town. We finally caught up with Randall and Betty Godwin, the couple who built Nomad Village in Bethany Beach, interviewing them on a fall day in the cluttered office at the Nomad. Sussex Countians, the couple bought the land where the Nomad stands in 1959. In the construction business himself, Randall built 12 A-frame cottages and a three-story package store and bar, with apartments above. They envisioned a summer resort for families, with the children able to stay safely in the little A-frame bungalows while their parents could walk to the bar and have an evening's entertainment. Randall, now in his 70s, hard of hearing and wearing a tiny diamond stud in one ear, describes himself as a gay man, although one who also shared his life with his wife Betty and their children all these years. Betty, who didn't say much during our interview, just nodded in agreement, affirming Randall's tale of how they got into the gay bar business. "We knew Jim Short and he used to go to the Pink Pony on the Boardwalk and another bar, owned by a woman named Julieit stands where the Frogg Pond is now," Randall says. He remembers that it was 1963, when Short told him that a spotter was hired at Julie's bar to point out the increasing number of gay men frequenting the place. "Then, they used to charge a dollar a drink to the gays and just 65 cents for the straights," Randall says. With so many gay men in town, Jim suggested that Randall open the "other room" at the Nomad and cater to the group. "I didn't start out to have a gay bar, but it just sort of happened," he recalls, opening the separate room for gays because he was afraid there would be fights with the straight bar-goers if he didn't. "It's generally accepted that straights think I caused what was called 'the gay problem' in the area," says Randall, "but it's not true. Gays were already coming from Washington, DC." Since families weren't really supporting the Nomad the way he envisioned, "economically it just made sense to cater to the gays." Randall recalls that he'd been having a tough time. The 1962 storm uprooted all the A-frames and sent them floating into the marsh across the road. He re-built and rolled the A-frames back in to place. Then later that year a tornado knocked four of the A-frames down and insurance wouldn't pay to rebuild them. "It just made sense economically," he repeated with more emphasis, "to open the Nomad to the gays." Many folks who went to the Nomad back then remember being asked their name and having to sign in. Randall insists that, rather than harassment, he was just trying to keep the place a private club so that they wouldn't be harassed. "We charged $5 to join plus a $3 cover in exchange for three tickets good for three beers or two drinks." While the "Other Room" at the Nomad thrived, things were not easy for the Godwins. They faced problems with their liquor license as well as zoning, with the property downzoned from commercial to residential in 1972. The Godwins are convinced their troubles were the result of their gay clientele. From 1972 though the 1980's, the Godwins fought the county over their zoning designation. And more than once they heard tales of lawmakers and county officials "not going to do anything to keep that queer joint open." But open it stayed. Libby Stiff, co-author of this column, had a trailer at Love Creek in the 1970's and recalls coming down on weekends from Wilmington to go to the Nomad. "It was mostly a men's bar, but my friends and I would go there every Friday and Saturday night. William Clemmons was the bartender. He taught at Del Tech during the week, but his alter ego Clara May tended the Nomad bar. In the late 1970's more women started coming to the Nomad, and it was really hopping on the weekends," Libby says. "I remember drinking screwdrivers with a splash of sloe ginwe called them Sloe Screws." "It was so different back then, without the awareness about drunk driving. Clara May would walk me to my car, lock me in and tell me to drive home slowly and safely. One night, I'd had too much to drink and a trooper stopped me, made me leave my car on Rt. One, and drove me to my place at Love Creek." With a self-deprecating sense of humor and pride, the Godwins tell of holding on at the Nomad through storms, fires and the incredible gusts of wind from local residents and officials, holding them responsible for "the gay problem." According to Betty and Randall, their kids faced taunts at school, and life was made pretty tough for them. But now semi-retired, and living in Florida for part of each year, the Godwins still run the Nomad Village, still catering to a loyal gay clientele, and they seem pleased to be asked about the old days. It's been three battle-filled but successful decadesand countingfor the Nomad. And several generations of gay men and women found safe haven there before there were other gay and gay-friendly bars, restaurants and dance clubs. If only the walls could talk! Can you tell us more about these and other Gay Rehoboth memories? Those wishing to contribute recollections or photos may contact us at CAMP Rehoboth, or Fay at mvnoozy@aol.com; Libby at lstiff@hotmail.com. We'd love to hear from you! |
LETTERS From CAMP Rehoboth, Vol. 10, No. 1, Feb. 4, 2000. |