The advent of Disco with a capital D is a matter of discussion.
In June 1976, the Insider approached the topic of Discos in a big way with a two-page article called “Slumming the Din Bins: A Convoluted Guide to the Discoplex.” It explained that discos were the “legitimate offspring of the illegitimate bath scene in New York” that finally reached the Twin Cities a year-and-a-half later. Rock or country was still preferred over the Ohio Players, but the hustle and the bump were in play.
The reporters (Pete Dwyer, Thomas Rusch, and Susan Winter) took a field trip to a few downtown Minneapolis discos, which I will list but not describe:
- Zelda’s
- Gay Nineties
- Sutton Place
- Othello’s
- Moby Dick’s
Their review of our venue was savage and hilarious:
Uncle Sam’s is just plain disgusting. The crowd is very young and suburban, but not necessarily hip. They apparently like loud, loud music, and that it is. If you retire to the glass encased upstairs lounge, the volume is bearable, but you’ll have to wipe the smoke off your table. The problem at Sam’s is two-fold. The crowd at Sam’s is there for the cheap drinks (various specials on week nights) and they dance to keep up their thirst. The management responds with cheap drinks, and deteriorating sleazy decor and music that reflects the crowd’s taste. Our evening ended with a slow grind as we watched what looked like the younger half of the city of Richfield dancing down to the tune of early Beatles’ hits. What hath this disco craze wrought.
As for me, I remember sitting upstairs one night in 1976 and hearing something foreign to my ears. I did not like it. “What the hell was that?” I asked. Born too late, I was a child of the ’70s – fortunate to be 18 when the drinking age was lowered to 18, but subject to music I found to be boring. At least there were “famous movies and slides” for people to watch when the dancing got too dull.
