On Christmas Eve 1966 I was on board an Argentine Merchant
Marine Victory Ship called the Rio Aguapey. I was the only passenger on my way
to Veracruz, Mexico from Buenos Aires. We had arrived early in the day in New
Orleans. I decided to explore Bourbon Street. It was in the evening when I
entered a strip parlour. I sat down at the front row and in my silly ignorance
ordered Bourbon on the rocks. A bored
looking woman came on to the stage. She plugged in a Wurlitzer and put in some
coins. She danced. She finished and then left. She was the first woman I ever
saw take off her clothes and dance. She looked bored. I was bored.
It wasn’t until a summer day around 1977 that I went to the
Drake Hotel to watch what then were euphemistically called exotic dancers. I have
no memory if I was alone or accompanied. I know I either ordered a coke or a
soda water.
On the stage this long-legged young blonde woman danced with uncommon
grace. I was particularly fond of her bangs. There was something fresh and
enthralling about her performance. The place (too good to be called a joint)
was scrupulously clean and the fine sunny day almost made it feel that my fun
was all clean fun. Perhaps it was.
In subsequent many years of witnessing women take off their
clothes I became an expert on which of these women it was worth watching over
and over.
I have never been able to forget or lose that first exhilarating
performance of Cheri. I photographed her many times. The last time was in my
Granville and Robson studio in 1995. I have never been able to find her since.
I would like to thank her for all that I learned from her and how this amateur
photographer became a good one thanks to her patience and the patience of many
of her friends.
Best of all she danced to one of my favourite local pop
bands of the time, Maurice and the Clichés.