Dancing Stallions

Chapter 6 Club J-Mar

6

CLUB J-MAR

MY OTHER HOME AWAY FROM CHICAGO was in Lake Geneva, Wisconsin, at the family cabin on Lake Como. I spent as much time there as I could. It was my escape from the conventioneers, chaos, and carousing that were constant frustrating features of my work at the Playboy Club. It was the only place I could rest. The three shifts a day were a grind, but the extra money allowed me to splurge on myself and the children.

I raided my bank account to purchase a beautiful Arabian white stallion, Cass. That horse helped me stay grounded and focused on the important things in life. Riding Cass temporarily transported me into a world without worries; a place where you don't need a priest or a psychiatrist to get through the day. I found Cass through a newspaper ad. It led me to a stable in Orland Park.

The $3,000 price tag was a shock, but when you're in love, money doesn't matter. I kept Cass at a farm in Lake Geneva. I rode him every chance I got. Every Friday, all I could think of was taking off for the weekend to Lake Como, and Cass. Attired in white sharkskin hip huggers and a low-cut top, Cass and I made quite an attractive couple. One afternoon I was out riding Cass along Highway H near Lake Como and passed by an old building I'd seen many times as a child. It was the old Club J-Mar; once a popular polka bar. Now, it was just gathering dust and holding on to memories of better days gone by.

As a child, I remembered the crowds of people lined up and waiting to get into the bar. I always hoped that one day I'd be old enough to go and enjoy the adult activities myself. For some reason, every time I rode past the bar the old building beckoned, reminding me of my childhood. One day I stopped near the building so Cass could graze. I remember just sitting on my handsome stallion and staring at the Club. Field grass was growing high around the edge of the building and weeds were pushing up through cracks in the parking lot. The windows were boarded up as a hedge against the fierce Wisconsin winters.

I tied Cass to a tree and walked up to one of those boarded windows to look in. Through a small crack I could barely make out the faded forms inside. Looking one way I saw a few cobwebbed tables and chairs toward the center of what must have been the old dance floor. I could also make out the long wooden bar with glass and mirrored back bar. All things considered, the building and interior furniture were in reasonably good condition. I pried off one of the old boards blocking my view. The rotten wood just crumbled. The next two also came off easily. I crawled inside and felt the excitement of a child who stumbles upon someone's secret hideout.

It was eerie and dark enough to force my eyes to adjust. From the bottles and glasses here and there, it looked as if a party marked the last night the bar was open. Everything was covered with a thick untouched dusty white haze. Some of the bottles behind the bar still had liquor in them. The temperature was cool and the atmosphere dream-like, distorting my sense of time. Playboy taught me much about the inner workings of a successful nightclub. I often fantasized about owning my own club some day.

I found myself seriously wondering how much it would cost to buy the old Club J-Mar, fix it up, and open for business. I'm sure I could pick up this rundown place for next to nothing, I thought.

IT WAS AUGUST AND I JUST turned 23. I shouldn't have been contemplating such a risky move with two small children to support and no idea where my husband was. Anyway, I loved working at the Playboy Club and I expected to have a job there for years to come. With all this going through my mind, from out of nowhere the name for my dream club came to me.