Ladies’ Night, Every Night

SUMMIT STATION BY JULIA M. APPLEGATE

Ladies’ Night, Every Night. Men $5.” So read the little wood sign that hung outside the door to Jack’s A-Go-Go. A $5 cover charge in 1976 is equivalent to $26.29 in 2023 dollars—a pretty hefty sum to enter an unassuming little neighborhood bar less than a mile from Ohio State’s main campus. But hang there it did, serving its purpose of welcoming women, while deterring men without enacting an outright ban.

You see, it was the 1970s and, even with the advances made by the post-Stonewall gay liberation movement, homophobia, sexism and misogyny were alive and well and the ladies frequenting Jack’s were, by and large, lesbian.

You would be right to wonder how a neighborhood go-go bar turned into a safe haven for lesbians at a time when homosexuality was still considered a mental illness, there were no legal protections for gays and lesbians, and holding hands in public as a same-sex couple was tantamount to asking to be assaulted.

In part, it was due to one young lesbian’s need for a part-time job. In 1970, Petie Brown, a trumpeter, pianist and classically trained musician, got a bartending job at Jack’s to support her aspiring singing career. Word spread fast that a lesbian was behind the bar, and soon Jack’s began attracting lesbian women in scores. Brown quit the bar, but the word was out, and the bar’s owners at the time, Cleta and Don Logan, welcomed the lesbian patrons.

A Safe Haven

Brown returned, buying Jack's A-Go-Go in 1980. She renamed it Summit Station. It functioned as a home away from home for thousands of women over the years, serving as a space for first dates, fundraisers, drag performances, musical and comedy events, dart and billiards leagues, softball and football teams and so much more.

Feminist activism work happened over $3 buckets of Little Kings, with meetings of Women Against Rape, the Buckeye Region Anti-Violence Organization and Momazons (lesbians with kids) taking place while Donna Summer or Sister Sledge belted out the classic We Are Family on the jukebox.

On Thursday nights, the line stretched out the door and around the corner as women from all walks of life stood waiting for entrance to the magical space the bar offered.

Each December, patrons came together under the direction of Singular Sensation to produce and perform in the annual Christmas Show. Proceeds from the show went to fund a children’s party at the Family AIDS Clinic (FACES) at Children’s Hospital. Tens of thousands of dollars were raised across two decades to support kids and women living with HIV at a time when HIV was still considered a virus affecting only gay men. While countless stories abound of the love, community and good times shared by former patrons, the bar was not always a safe place. Police intimidation and some nearby neighbors presented the biggest threats to bar-goers. Stories circulate of unannounced raids by Columbus city police officers, harassment levied against lesbian patrons from fraternity houses nearby and a bottle rocket fired into the front door on a hot summer night.

PUBLIC ENEMY NO. 1: THE JAYWALKER

Situated in the middle of an Ohio State campus neighborhood, Summit Station had no crosswalks connecting it with nearby street parking. In a show of intimidation and harassment, officers would stop patrons crossing the street and issue jaywalking citations. As Brown tells it, bar staff got fed up one night and painted a crosswalk connecting the bar with the sidewalk across the street. The ticketing stopped. The police couldn’t report the women for painting an illicit crosswalk without drawing attention to their illegal harassment!

Closing Time

After nearly four decades of service to the lesbian, queer, trans and non-binary community, Brown closed the bar in 2008. In late 2021, a small group of former patrons banded together to pay tribute to the legacy left by one of Ohio’s longest-running lesbian bars.

As part of the Ohio Historical Markers program administered by the Ohio History Connection, a historical marker will be placed permanently in front of the space that housed Summit Station. The marker will be dedicated on June 10, 2023.

Friends of Summit Station is raising funds to cover the cost of the Ohio Historical Marker, placement of the marker, festivities to mark the dedication and, ultimately, a documentary.

Julia M. Applegate is a senior lecturer in the Department of Women’s, Gender and Sexuality Studies at The Ohio State University. Applegate holds a master of public health and master of arts in women’s, sexuality and gender studies from The Ohio State University, and has 25 years of teaching experience. She’s served as a public health professional, HIV/AIDS activist, barista, swim coach, storyteller and most recently an aspiring filmmaker. She lives with her wife of 21 years, two kids, three cats, one leopard gecko and a ball python in the Clintonville neighborhood of Columbus.

More

The Buckeye Flame newsroom gathers LGBTQ+ news and views for wider dissemination. Visit the Flame website to read a story about the Summit Station historical marker at ohiohistory.org/ Summit1

Visit the Friends of Summit Station, aka Jack’s GoFundMe page, for more information about the bar, photographs submitted by patrons and an interview with Petie Brown, C.J. Curtis and Judy Long at ohiohistory.org/Summit2

You can find personal reminiscences of Summit Station patrons at ohiohistory.org/Summit3

Summit Station— What I Needed, Right When I Needed It

Summit Station was the second gay bar I ever visited. My first was The Kismet in Columbus.

While attending social meetings at a place called Calico’s on 5th Avenue, just off North High Street in Columbus, I was asked if I’d ever been to Jack’s.

The girls said it was amazing, especially on Thursday nights. I was so green, I asked if there was a dress code. Everyone laughed and told me shorts and a T-shirt would do just fine.

When I arrived, I couldn’t believe it. Wall-towall women, just like me. Needless to say, I was hooked, and remained loyal, even as I discovered other wonderful places. I enjoyed all of them, but Summit was always home, the place where I “grew up,” learned about all walks of life and could be myself and discover selves I didn’t yet realize existed.

Who knew I could dance?

What set Summit apart from other clubs, for me, was that it was a place for communicating when I really needed that, and for experimenting. We came together like it was camp or something. “Hey, I’ve got an idea!” was not a rare exclamation.

Over a period of 25 years, Summit Station and the friends I made there became embedded in me, my forever family, as they say.

—Deborah Connolly