From Madonna to the AIDS Crisis: 50-Plus Years of Menjo’s in Detroit LGBTQ+ History

How Detroit's iconic LGBTQ+ bar has continuously reinvented itself — embracing both renewal and remembrance

Menjos owners new — The current Menjo's management team includes, from left, Cliff Cunningham, general manager; Lewis Rhinehart, co-owner; Archie "Lee" Shepard, co-owner; and John Dhoest, operations manager. Photo: Jason A. Michael

Published: July 28, 2025 | Last Updated: August 5, 2025

As Menjo’s — one of Detroit’s longest-running gay bars — celebrates over half a century in operation, it stands as a rare survivor and a testament to queer resilience. Located near Palmer Park, once considered the city’s unofficial gay playground, Menjo’s didn’t just benefit from the neighborhood’s queer emergence — it helped define it.

Gay bars had existed for years in the area between Six and Seven Mile Roads, but Menjo’s brought something new: a dedicated dance floor. Palmer Park was already a known gathering spot for the LGBTQ+ community when the club opened its doors in 1974.

"Its proximity to bars, and its distance from suburban families we weren't out to, made it a great place to live," said Michael Conboy, who both lived in Palmer Park and worked at Menjo’s starting in 1980.

Menjo's was opened by Michael Crawford, a bartender at The Woodward in Midtown; Henry Trent, a businessman and owner of the Prudential Health Club, one of a few gay bathhouses in the city; and Joe LaRosa, who had studied business and served as host for Lillian's Down Under, a small club in the basement of Bookie's Club 870.

When it opened in December 1974, Menjo's was an instant hit. It was the first club in the city where the DJ mixed records live. With assorted equipment rigged up, DJs could cue, overlay and blend tracks — drawing a crowd of predominantly men who loved to pack the bar's small dance floor.

Its location in Palmer Park was key to the relocation of Detroit’s gay district, which had previously been downtown. That shift began in 1967, after Detroit police raided an unlicensed after-hours bar at 12th Street and Clairmount Avenue, where more than 80 people were celebrating the return of two Black Vietnam War veterans. Tensions escalated quickly, and by morning, looting and arson had spread across the neighborhood.

Menjos 10th in Cruise 19841221 — Menjo's 10th anniversary, as commemorated by Cruise magazine.

In the aftermath, many businesses relocated, and the area north of Detroit, including Palmer Park, soon became a hub of gay establishments, making it an ideal place for a young gay man to settle.

Menjo's proximity to several other gay bars was a social advantage. "The gay bars in the area made 'tricking' easy and a lot of jokes were made about how many buildings we had woken up in," Conboy said. He also recalled that, at times, the area wasn’t immune to anti-queer violence.

There were occasional gay bashings in the neighborhood, but they were often seen as inevitable. "Sadly, we seemed to accept those things," said Conboy. "Being gay meant it came with the territory."

‘Best fuckin’ sound in town’

Inside Menjo’s, patrons found a high-tech safe haven. The owners continually reinvested in the sound system, helping the crowds keep coming. By 1980, it featured custom tweeter arrays mounted across the ceiling, booming sub-bass speakers and a professional light show. The dance floor was expanded and a first-class DJ booth was installed. Staffers wore black T-shirts with the bars name and logo on the front and "Best Fuckin' Sound in Town" on the back.

This led to a war with Backstreet, a new dance bar on the west side of the city that opened in 1979. Each bar continued to enhance their sound system. Not only that, the two bars engaged in a war on prices. "It started with two-for-one drinks and escalated to a ridiculous eight-for-one," recalled Conboy, who admitted the strategy did have its setbacks. "Things got pretty messy with customers getting plastered."

At this point, though the two clubs were on opposite sides of town, "it wasn't uncommon for someone who hadn't got "lucky" by 1:15 a.m. to hop in their car at one place and race down Oakman Boulevard in time for last call at the other," said Conboy.

"I enjoyed going to Menjo's often in the ’70s," said Tom Hubbard, who made the drive in from Ann Arbor just to visit the bar. "It was friendly and well-kept, with fine DJs."

Chris Hauck, who was a regular at Menjo's at that time, agreed. "My god, Friday nights were packed," he said. "You had to park like two blocks away on the side streets back by those big synagogues. Now they're Black churches. Friday nights were so packed you were elbow to elbow. It was jam-packed."

"We were making the hits before they were hits. Menjo's had a thumpin' sound system. Menjo's was always a trendsetter."
DJ Chad Novak

Menjo's low ceiling did not make the bar optimal for bringing in live performers. But a few did appear, including disco queen Thelma Houston, known for her 1975 disco hit “Don't Leave Me This Way.”

Another woman made her way into the club in the bar's early years too: a young high school student from Rochester Hills named Madonna Louise Ciccone. According to biographer Mary Gabriel, who touched on the pop icon’s history with the bar in “Madonna: A Rebel Life,” Madonna walked into Menjo's and knew she had found her tribe.

"Men were doing poppers and going crazy," Madonna said, according to the book. "They were all dressed really well and were more free about themselves than all the blockhead football players I met in high school."

A decade shy of becoming the Material Girl, Madonna would sometimes get into trouble at the club. "There would be boys off in the corner doing, well, everything, and she would just walk right up and stare," said Christopher Flynn, Madonna's first mentor and dance teacher, in the book. It was he who took Madonna to Menjo's for the first time. A naughty Madge would find herself in trouble from time to time and she even managed to get herself barred from the club. According to former manager Tim McKee, Madonna "got kicked out ... for pulling her vagina out. She was a rowdy teenager at the time."

Menjos early 80s ad in Cruise — An ad for Menjo's printed in Cruise magazine in the '80s.

The ’80s ushered in a golden era for Menjo’s. "Menjo's was always an underground club," said DJ Chad Novak, Menjo's resident DJ from 1982 to 2004. "We were making the hits before they were hits." Menjo's, said Novak, was known across the country. "Menjo's had a thumpin' sound system. Menjo's was always a trendsetter."

But success came with exclusivity. "Menjo's had a really strict door policy as far as women and Black and Latino patrons were concerned," said Novak. "It was a white club." This discrimination reflected broader patterns common in Detroit's entertainment scene at the time, but it would not last forever.

The dark days

By the mid-’80s, AIDS hit. Crawford succumbed to the disease in 1988. "They just started dying like flies," legendary drag performer Torchy recalled at a panel discussion on queer culture in Detroit that took place at Menjo's Olympus Theater in 2018. "I know over 350 people alone who have died from AIDS. I have the names written down."

The Lady "T" Tempest also spoke about the crisis at the same panel discussion. "When your phone rings and you're afraid to answer it because you couldn't take one more friend, family member, LGBT person dying of AIDS ... it's scary,” she said. “It scared the living hell out of us."

LaRosa eventually retired to Phoenix and Trent left the business as well. Menjo's persevered. The bar did what it could to support the community during the crisis. They held fundraisers and Menjo's, like many other queer establishments, did shows where owners and staff would perform in drag. Novak recalled performing Shirley Bassey's "Big Spender" at one such show and earning over $700 in tips for the cause.

The crowds continued to come to the bar. Novak said that he did not recall the crowds dwindling even during the worst of the AIDS crisis. Though he lost friends to AIDS, he said people came out to celebrate still being alive and to support the gay community."

Doors wide open

The AIDS crisis changed more than just the size of the community at Menjo’s — it transformed who was welcome in. By the late ’80s, the tragedy influenced a unifying effect that broke down many of the barriers that had previously existed. Menjo's relaxed their requirements for entry and women and men of all colors were welcome in the bar. The exclusive "white club" of the early years evolved into something more inclusive.

This transformation would continue over the decades. Today, that evolution is complete. "I'm still trying to put everybody in this bar," said current co-owner Archie "Lee" Shepard. "Not just gay people. We have straight people come in and they mesh just as well as anyone in the bar."

The current clientele reflects that openness. "We have twinks here, we have punks here, we have people who come because they want to go to the bar and have a good time," said Shepard. What began as an exclusive space for white gay men has become a truly diverse community gathering place — a transformation born from tragedy but resulting in something stronger and more welcoming.

Regardless of crowd demographics, "Menjo's was always very supportive of our efforts in the community, be it raising funds for the first Pride marches that began in 1986 in Detroit and HIV/AIDS programming beginning in 1988 through the 2000s to actual outreach programs in the club," said Craig Covey, former director of Midwest AIDS Prevention Project.

MAPP did HIV counseling and testing for many years at the bar and collected sexual behavior surveys from patrons on knowledge, attitudes and beliefs. Menjo's also supported the annual Gay Pride banquets that were held from 1988 to 2008. And Crawford won the MAPP Award for his support to myriad gay and AIDS causes before he died.

James Patrick "Jimmy" Dowdle, known to many in the queer community as Poodles, was a longtime waiter, manager and ultimately co-owner of the bar for several years. He was a regular fixture at the bar during a difficult time. In an Out Post obit, one customer described Dowdle as someone who "always made me feel safe and made sure I had a good time. He for sure let me know it was OK to be me, gay and proud."

In 2002, Menjo’s hosted a memorial show for the late DJ Cecil Gibbs, with all proceeds going to his family.

New owners, new changes

Throughout the years, Menjo's has undergone several ownership and management changes. Looking back through the paper's archives, I found I wrote more than a few stories interviewing new owners or revealing new plans for the bar. In 2008, Pride Source reported that Jeff Stedman bought the bar and changed the name to the New Menjo's Complex, incorporating the two buildings next to Menjo's, the former Chosen Books spot and the former Glass House bar. Initial plans included turning the old Glass House into a sports bar named Baskets and the old Chosen into the Legends Theater, a hall complete with a stage perfect for drag performances.

Around this time, Menjo's began curating pieces of local queer history to display in a quasi-museum setting. "We're trying to preserve our history so that we can help the younger generation," said Peter Hendrickson, whom Pride Source reported had purchased the bar with his partner Murray Hodgson in 2012. "I'm 50 — there's a generation between Generation X and me that died from the AIDS epidemic. All those historians and all those mentors are gone. Now it's my age group; we have to become the mentors."

Pride Source reported at this time that the bar was receiving a $100,000 overhaul, just in time to celebrate the first anniversary of its collaboration with AW Entertainment, formerly Strongarm Productions, the promoter in charge of the successful Club One X downtown that did huge numbers in an old warehouse until it caught fire. Anthony Winn revived the name a decade later and began hosting One X Saturday Nights at Menjo's, attracting a predominantly Black crowd.

"One X played an instrumental role in the club history here in Detroit," said Winn. "I didn't believe that we could duplicate what took place back then, but I did want to create something now that, at the very least, brought back a sense of that same vibe."

Unfortunately, the One X party didn't last for long. A 21-and-over bar, it kept the new kids — and the crowds — away.

Hendrickson and Hodgson announced plans to transform the bar. "Menjo's has been the same for so many years," Hendrickson said. "I always say that Menjo's needed a cosmetic enema. It needed more of a modern look. It was stale."

Bathrooms were redone, the look of the club elevated and turned into more of an ultra lounge.

"You'll see they kind of brought it into the 21st century and gave it an entirely new look and feel, from the countertops to the walls and everything," said Hendrickson.

Hendrickson and Hodgson, now known for their Murray & Peter Present production company, did not stick around for long. Menjo's current owners, Lewis Rhinehart and Shepard, began managing the club in 2012 and officially took the club over in December 2014. For years they relied on Tim McKee to manage it.

McKee took the idea of combining the three businesses under one umbrella a step further. Shepard owned the rights to the name The Eagle so that's what the old Glass House became. And the old Chosen, the site of what was to become the Legends Theater, became the Olympus Theater instead. McKee hosted events in the Olympus that focused on the history of queer Detroit as well as the leather and drag communities.

COVID-19, of course, affected the bar. It remained open during limited hours and kept social distancing in effect. They also provided a helping hand to the local community during this time. "Tim McKee was instrumental in feeding the neighborhood for over two years," said Rhinehart. "We gave away about 6,000 pounds of food a week."

Today, tomorrow, forever?

McKee eventually left Menjo's and owners Rhinehart and Shepard stepped up, with the help of Cliff Cunningham as general manager and John Dhoest as operations manager. Today, the group is in the middle of revamping the whole bar.

The essential ingredient to producing a successful night is simple, said Shepard. "Get the right DJ, you can get a crowd. Techno is big in the city. You get a techno night, you can get a crowd. ... They don't come in just to come in anymore."

"I have friendships that exist today on the strength of our bonding during those closeted times when the thrill of transgression was very real."
Michael Conboy, former Menjo's bartender

Dating and hookup apps like Grindr and Tinder have changed the way community members meet, reducing the reliance on traditional gathering spaces like queer bars. As a result, Menjo’s, which is in the middle of a revamp, is finding new ways to stay relevant and appealing, evolving beyond just a nightlife spot into a more dynamic community hub. These days, it takes DJs and theme parties to get the crowds out to the dance floor.

As Menjo's celebrates just over a half-century as a safe haven for the LGBTQ+ community and prepares its latest revamp, Conboy looks back at the bar's illustrious history and reflects on the days of drinking and drugging. "On one hand, I'm sure that straight clubs had no shortage of over-indulging — the clientele is in their 20s, recently independent from their parents, alive with insecurities and sexual longing,” he said. “But I do wonder sometimes if the more destructive qualities associated with that behavior weren't caused by an underlying sense of homophobia — a term we didn't have and certainly would not have understood — and shame."

Today, with some stigma gone, the party, albeit slightly altered, carries on. Menjo's is open seven days a week from 4 p.m. to 2 a.m. The Eagle is open on Saturdays from 10 p.m. to 4 a.m., where they serve as an after-hours venue and the Olympus Theater is open for rentals and special events.

"Menjo's has been special to so many people throughout the years and it will continue to be special to people for years to come, including the next generation," said local performer Simon Black, who hosts karaoke at the bar. "With this new revamp, Menjo's will continue to bring Detroit's nightlife back to what it truly used to be."

Looking back over the last half century, Conboy said, "We had a lot of fun. I have friendships that exist today on the strength of our bonding during those closeted times when the thrill of transgression was very real."

We’ve come a long way, but bars like Menjo’s remain a vital thread in the fabric of queer culture. For many, crossing that threshold for the first time is more than just a night out — it’s a rite of passage, a moment of recognition, a first breath of true belonging. These spaces offer not just drinks and dancing, but the rare freedom to be fully seen.

Whatever shape the revamp takes, one thing is certain: Menjo’s, even at 50, will hold onto its spark. As long as there’s someone stepping into the queer world for the first time — wide-eyed, nervous, hopeful — Menjo’s will be there, pulsing with life, ready to welcome them home.