Sally’s Apartment

Known as something between the “epitome of your neighborhood bar” and “Austin’s cruisiest bar,” Sally’s Apartment opened in the late 1960s in West Campus. The bar was known for its Sunday afternoon “all-you-can-drink” beer specials, “comfortable, carpeted, conversation” vibe, and of course, its infamous rear entrance. Today the site is home to a popular burrito joint; none of the original structures remain.

Opened in 1968, Dirty Sally’s, the Apartment, or Sally’s Apartment (take your pick!) was so strongly-rooted in Austin’s LGBTQIA+ community that to many it became a place of refuge. The establishment opened just two years after one of Austin’s many “Lavender Scares” (a contemporaneous article published in the Austin American-Statesman entitled “Homosexual Ring Uncovered at UT” referred to a group of gay men who had merely exchanged contacts and thrown parties) and one year before the Stonewall Rebellion in New York.

Similar to Austin Country, Sally’s served as a center of LGBTQIA+ activism and community organizing. The bar collected donations for the food bank as well as groups benefiting people with AIDS; distributed free condoms and safe-sex information; allowed public health workers to offer HIV screening and testing on premises; and was instrumental in organizing the first Splash Day, which has evolved into a major event for the local gay community.

While few records remain that describe the appearance of the bar itself, there is a photograph that shows how the bar was accessed: through a gate in the wooden fence along the back alley, where a small sign simply read “Sally’s APT.” An account written in May 1981 for Connections describes the experience once inside:

“The bar has ample sitting space and you cannot imagine friendlier people. The two pool tables in a separate room are always hopping. In another room sits a juke box for those who like country-western or disco. Another room houses those who like playing cards, though I do wonder how anybody can see whether they’re holding a three of clubs or a king of hearts in such darkness. If you want some of that good ol’ Austin air, just move to the back (or should one say, the front?) patio with your longneck or whatever you brought to drink.”

The bar’s demise began in 1987 when the Shoal Crest Neighborhood Group filed a formal complaint before the Texas Alcoholic Beverage Commission (TABC) in the form of a “book-like volume of sworn testimony.” Although the bar had operated unimpeded for two decades, the approach of citing code violations for the closure of queer spaces had become a common tactic at the time. In this case, the space was zoned for use as a restaurant but operated primarily as a bar. After a 15-month delay and countless hearings, an agreement was filed on February 28, 1989 that required Sally’s Apartment to comply with the City’s zoning by constructing a kitchen and developing a menu by March 15, and reaching 51% food sales by June 19.

On September 7, local author Lars Eighner was sitting at Sally’s when plainclothes TABC officers entered. According to Eighner, an announcement over the bar’s PA system rang out in the chaos: “I don’t know what’s going on, but the TABC is here and we have to close at this time. Please surrender your cocktails to the bartenders now and leave the bar. And keep in touch.” Eighner walked outside, sat on the wheelchair ramp alongside another customer, and watched the closing of an institution that many saw as a sanctuary. After the dust settled, owner B. K. “Bunch” Brittain invited them in for a drink and defiantly told them, “I can give away my liquor whenever the hell I want.” – John Stenzel