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[title]On the surface, the Black Cap was just like any other high street boozer: a one-armed bandit machine, a well-stocked bar, reliable regulars. But it wasn’t just any old pub: since the 1960s, several generations of drag queens called it their home.
‘It was a drinking pub that had drag shows, that was it – real old-fashioned drag queen shows,’ says Omar F. Okai, an award-winning director and choreographer. ‘A lot of the drag queens became really big stars, like Paul O’Grady.’
The pub has been a landmark on Camden High Street since 1751. From witches, encounters with serial killer Dennis Nilsen and trailblazing drag queens like Mrs Shufflewick, Regina Fong and Paul O’Grady as Lily Savage, the Black Cap was a refuge for punters in the years leading up to the deadly AIDS epidemic and beyond.
‘You had to pay 50p to get into the back of the bar, which was where the drag shows were,’ says John Nicolaou, who worked as a bartender in the 1980s. ‘It was great entertainment, and it was something you couldn’t get on the straight scene. We’d get up to 200 people a night, and when you have that many people comfortably in a place, it creates a certain atmosphere.’
That energy feels worlds away from the Black Cap that exists today. After an unsuccessful attempt from owners at the time, Faucett Inn, to sell the pub and turn it into luxury flats, the Black Cap called last orders in 2015. At times occupied by squatters, and after facing plans to turn it into a supermarket and endless discussions with Camden Council, its future has been precarious. Boarded up and empty of the punters whose chatter brought it to life, the derelict pub now only has a neighbouring Boots pharmacy to keep it company.
But now, after years of efforts from campaigners, it’s been announced that the Black Cap will officially reopen its doors. From the bar staff to drag queens and loyal regulars, this is the story of what made it so special.
The people that made the Black Cap
The Black Cap has occupied the same spot on Camden High Street for more than 200 years. In the 1960s, it rose to prominence among London’s queer scene, famed for its drag shows and a largely gay clientele that flocked to watch them. In a time prior to the decriminalisation of homosexual relationships under the Sexual Offences Act of 1967, the Black Cap went on to become an iconic gay venue in London, cherished by people on both sides of the bar.
Simon Watney (writer, AIDS activist and frequent punter): ‘I went continuously throughout my life, from the 1960s right up to the day it was shut. It may have been the very first gay bar I ever went to in my life. When I started going, the chap who ran it was a man called Marc Flemming. He was a drag queen with a very good, deep, manly baritone. He was a great character, as camp as Christmas.’
John Nicolaou (regular and bartender in the 1980s): ‘I was 17 the first time I went to the Black Cap in 1977. Even if you were on your own, you were guaranteed to bump into people you knew. I approached Babs who ran the pub and asked for a part-time job. A few days later I went to work behind the bar and moved into the attic upstairs. When you’re young, you’re not aware that they’re going to be the best times, but they were.
‘Babs was like a mother figure to me, she gave me a place to live and work. I tried to get in touch with her a few years ago but I found that she’d passed. Her son, David, used to work on the door and would have to stop people from going in because the pub would be full.’
Gracie Falls (performer and bartender in the noughties): ‘I started working there on the same night the national Drag Idol competition was taking place, in 2010. I asked an elderly queen why the gay symbol is a rainbow flag and they started to sing ‘‘Somewhere Over the Rainbow’’, and asked me, “Are you a friend of Dorothy’s?” He explained how back in the day, if you wanted to covertly ask someone if they were the same as you, you could ask them ‘‘Excuse me, do you know Dorothy? I think I saw you at one of her parties the other week’’.’
Omar F Oka (director, choreographer and occasional punter): ‘I first started going in 1987 when I was 22. I was very young, but you could go to the Black Cap and know you were with your family. I felt like I was raised by the people that went there. It was such an incredible plethora of people.’
Dennis Nilsen, the serial killer, used to drink pints of Worthington at the front of the bar
John: ‘I remember serving Dennis Nilsen, the serial killer. He used to drink pints of Worthington and always stayed at the front of the bar. He’d never go to the back to watch the drag performances. The unusual thing about him was that, unlike any other customer, he liked to drink a new pint in the same glass – he’d bring the empty glass up to the bar and expect you to pour a new pint into the one he was drinking from. Never said a word to me, but oh boy did he stare.’
Gracie: ‘When I worked at the Black Cap, I was all of the colours of the rainbow. Sometimes I would be in full drag doing the cash up at the bottom of the cellar.’
A temple of drag
From amateur shows to all-star lineups, when you took to the stage at the Black Cap, you were free to be whoever you pleased. Famed for its Tuesday evenings, legendary drag performer Regina Fong’s weekly gig saw regulars attend almost religiously (audience participation for her famous ‘Typewriter’ song was practically compulsory). Paul O’Grady made his debut as Lily Savage on October 7, 1978, while working at Camden Social Services. Before them, Mrs Shufflewick graced the stage as early as the 1960s, with the upstairs bar later renamed after her. Following Regina Fong’s death in 2003, a blue plaque was placed in the pub’s beer garden to honour the star that reinvigorated drag with her camp, absurd and fabulous performances.
Robin Flynn (regular, late 1980s until mid 1990s): ‘Actor and comedian Julian Clary used to do a show with Fanny the Wonderdog. He had this dog that didn’t do anything, a tiny chihuahua-y thing. Julian would do this massive build up, it was about 20 minutes, then he’d throw Fanny the treat and he would catch it in his mouth. When he caught it, the whole place went mad, even though we all knew the dog was going to catch the bloody treat. But that was the sense of safety and security the pub provided.’
Simon: ‘My favourite memories were going on Tuesday evenings to see Regina Fong with friends, especially those visiting from America. I always thought that unless you’d seen Regina, you’d missed one of the great sights of London.’
Julie Scadden (regular in the 1990s): ‘On my first visit there, Regina Fong [one of the many famed drag queens that performed at the Black Cap] pointed at me and said, ‘‘Look at her hair!’’ I had a quiff and ponytail and it was reddish, so she asked if it was a wig.’
Simon: “Paul O’Grady gave a speech at Regina Fong’s funeral, which was the most funny and amusing and touching epitaph I’ve ever heard in my life. We all came down from the Golders Green Crematorium and retired to the Black Cap afterwards.’
Making history at the Black Cap
With licensing records dating back to 1751, the Black Cap has seen Camden through the ages. While some believe its name came from local legends concerning a witch named Jenny Bingam, others suggest it was inspired by the black cap worn traditionally worn by judges when sentencing someone to death. A Victorian tile mural in the entrance of the pub depicted a witch and several punters gathered around a public execution taking place just outside the window in front of them. Whichever origin story you believe, the building undoubtedly holds an eerie history within.
John: ‘Where Camden Town Station is today used to be a public hanging dock. Back then, people used to go and watch executions like they might watch football, and then you’d go into your local inn and have a pint of ale afterwards. When you walked into the pub there was a tile painting on the left. In the background, there were people being hung ,and in front of them, a character was pointing, wearing a hat like a witch.’
Gracie: ‘It had such magic. I learnt so much about gay history that’s been completely wiped off the map.’
Simon: ‘It was a destination which brought people together, face to face. I can now say that, because I’ve known the Black Cap since I was a teenager through to being an old-age pensioner, a city exists in the continuity of its local history. Its schools, its churches, its graveyards, its clubs and bars.’
John: ‘I’m a bit sceptical about the paranormal but I remember one night I wanted some cigarettes. It was about two o’clock in the morning and I went down to the bar and I remember feeling like I was being watched. I got those cigarettes as quickly as I could and ran back to my room.’
Remembering the AIDS epidemic
In 1981, the first case of AIDS was recorded in the UK and by the late 1980s, a culture of fear surrounding the virus and those impacted was instilled following the government's ‘AIDS: Don’t Die of Ignorance’ campaign. A year later in 1988, Margaret Thatcher's administration introduced Section 28, banning the promotion of homosexuality and targeting LGBTQ+ groups in the process. As an institution that had catered to a mostly gay clientele as early as the 1960s, the pub carried on undeterred despite the darkness that crept into daily life for many of its customers. Simon Watney wrote the longest-running column in the gay press on AIDS, helped set up Gay News and wrote for Capital Gay. The Pink Paper newspaper started in his living room. For him and so many others, The Black Cap became a place of respite.
Simon: ‘The Black Cap was my local, so I went as a punter. You could slip out for a drink, and you didn’t have to talk to anyone about anything, let alone HIV stuff.’
John: ‘I visited one night about 30 years ago in 1994 and got talking to this young lad who worked behind the bar and lived upstairs. I told him I used to live and work here too, back in the 1980s. We were chatting away and I said to him that I’d come in hoping I might bump into some of the old regulars. He looked at me and said “You’re joking, they’d all be dead.” I was so upset by his response, because I’m of that generation where I actually lived through seeing one person die after another after getting AIDS. My smile went away and I just walked out of the pub. It was a new generation of gay men at that point.’
One of the distinctive things about the Black Cap was how intergenerational it was
Gracie: ‘I was so hurt to learn the black stripe added to the pride flag was for all the gay people that died from AIDS. To relegate an entire group of people to a stripe. If you knew any of those people, I can promise you that when you got their funeral card, as I eventually did, it would say no black at my funeral.’
A place for all
For many, a large appeal of the Black Cap was its reputation as a pub that was open to all, particularly across generations of gay men. A place to meet and hear the stories from those who had come before, it didn’t take long to find your place amongst the crowd of regulars.
Paula Dougherty (regular in the 1990s): ‘It was the only gay bar back then that was nicely mixed [with both genders in attendance]. I had a lot of gay male friends and it was the one place that we could go together. Back in the day there were a lot of gay bars that wouldn’t let women in.’
Gracie: ‘Anyone could go there, but the elderly queens at the bar really held it all together. They were these old West End characters, theatrical mistresses from plays like the Lion King.’
Paula: ‘I met my wife there one night. She came up to me and said “buy me a Jack Daniels” and that was that.’
Closure and campaigning
The Black Cap’s ultimate demise was brought on by the challenges of running a pub in London, a city where redevelopment is a constant threat to indie venues. In 2015, the pub shut after unsuccessful attempts from the owners to sell it and turn it into flats. On the final night, the crowd sung along as drag queen Holestar performed a rendition of ‘Hello, Goodbye’ by The Beatles. The pub was recognised as an Asset of Community Value by Camden Council just after its closure, meaning that any future owners could not change the use of the building as a pub and entertainment venue. Since then, the campaign group We Are The Black Cap has rallied together to ensure the building remains an LGBTQ+ venue, even offering to buy it outright.
Jamie Johnston is one of these campaigners. Having missed out on the chance to visit the pub himself, and feeling deprived of the opportunity to do so after it closed, he’s been closely involved in efforts to bring the thriving gay pub back to life. In July this year, the pub’s owners, Kicking Horse Three, signed a planning agreement with the Town Hall over the use of the building. Now, refurbishment is underway. It is understood that the pub will ‘re-open before Christmas’, though at the time of writing, we had no update about the specific date.
Jamie Johnston (campaigner): ‘I moved to Camden not long before it closed and ended up going to the vigils held outside the pub for its closure every Saturday. I tend to be quite an optimistic person, so I never got to that point of giving up and thinking it wouldn’t happen.’
Jamie Henderson (former manager before it closed): ‘I was the last manager of the Black Cap in 2015. I took it over because I wanted to see what we could do with it, and I had a brilliant team and a brilliant time with them, but we all always knew it was going to close and be redeveloped.’
Jamie Johnston: ‘One of the distinctive things about the Black Cap that we always hear about was how intergenerational it was, how many different age groups used it and interacted with each other in a way that’s quite unusual on the queer scene now. I hope they’ll come back when it opens, and I hope that they’ll find it's a space they still want to be and help make it the place it once was.’
Omar: ‘When it closed it left a void of where to go, because the Black Cap was a space for all. The Black Cap had young, old and anyone in between in one place, swapping stories, and we were all welcome.’