CC Slaughters Nightclub and Lounge
Gay bar · Chinatown ·
Energetic gay club with disco balls, big dance floor & lounge
Energetic gay club with disco balls, big dance floor & lounge
"A famed gay nightclub and bar is closing after "the final hour of" August 3, according to the club’s website. It originally opened in 1981 and has been owned for the last 22 years by Bruce Rice; in the closure announcement Rice said he "would like to extend his outmost gratitude for the community that has supported the club over the years." - Harry Cheadle
"This popular club appeals to a slightly younger crowd of queers and allies, who come to dance along to weekly DJ sets, take Jell-O shots, eat jalapeño poppers, and watch lively drag shows like TransUhhLicious, a showcase of local trans and nonbinary performers, and the Queen’s Keys, featuring live drag music." - Thom Hilton
"This popular club appeals to a slightly younger crowd of queers and allies, who come to dance along to weekly DJ sets, take Jell-O shots, eat jalapeño poppers, and watch lively drag shows like TransUhhLicious, a showcase of local trans and nonbinary performers, and the Queen’s Keys, featuring live drag music." - Thom Hilton, Eater Staff
"Inside CC Slaughters I found Multnomah County public-health materials—flyers and pamphlets—about preventing MPV, its symptoms, and where to get tested, and county staff have been talking through those materials with bartenders and owners to cover how to keep customers and staff safe. I learned this outreach is part of a longstanding partnership between queer businesses and the health department, and that when county workers walk in wearing a county ID people know why they’re there and are ready to listen. The presence of these materials and conversations at CC Slaughters reflects how queer bars are reclaiming their role as trusted community spaces for sharing public-health information after pandemic closures." - Brooke Jackson-Glidden
"One night at CC Slaughters I ended up counseling a newly dumped lesbian over too many whiskey sours, and that moment clarified for me that I didn’t need to earn or justify my place in queer spaces — I could simply exist there; the bar, where people drink whiskey sours and commiserate, helped me realize that truth." - Brooke Jackson-Glidden
