On Wednesday, the District of Columbia filed suit to shut down "Men's Parties," the underground male sex club operating at 1618 14th Street NW. The lawsuit's three defendants—David J. Butler, 1618 14th Street LLC, and the D.C. Wrestling Club—face charges of "opperation of a business without a basic business license" and "use of premises for business without appropriate certificate of occupancy."

The initial documents in the case offer a glimpse into the club's secretive activities, as well as additional information concerning the fatal accident that occurred inside the club on the morning of October 4th.

According to court documents, D.C. police responded to the report of "an unconscious person at the address" at 5:18 a.m. Detective Thomas Smith, a former Prostitution Enforcement Unit cop, was called to the scene to investigate a potential homicide. During the course of the investigation, Smith met Butler, "who identified himself as the President of a private club, doing business as the D.C. Wrestling Club."

Butler told Smith that he hosts parties where "men come into the premises, make a donation, and socialize." By the time Smith entered the property, Butler was accompanied by "more than twenty patrons and staff." Three other staff members identified themselves to Smith, according to documents: Jerome Goodman, Juan Adams, and Ralph 'Jay' Rushing.

According to Smith's affidavit, the activities of the club were obvious: "Strewn throughout the entire location are used condoms, empty condom wrappers, paper towels, cloth towels and other indicia of frequent, non-discrete sexual behavior." What, no snacks?

The affidavit offered a full inventory of the club's amenities:

First Floor: "A lounge area immediately inside the front entrance" which includes "two sets of lockers" and couches. Also on the first floor, "separated by curtains, are three wooden stalls containg 'glory holes' used for sexual activity" The floor also contains a "powder room and a linen closet."

Second Floor: An additional "lounge area with several counches and a mounted television set" sits on the club's top floor. The second floor also yields a "kitchenette and full bathroom." Behind the lounge are "sexually-oriented materials" including a "sex swing, large wooden cross that permits an individual to be bound to the structure, and a bench." The second floor also includes a bedroom "reportedly belonging to Ralph 'Jay' Rushing," and another bench.

Basement: Two sets of stairs lead to this floor (the accident victim was found at the foot of one staircase). In the basement are"thirteen bed spaces separated by built-in wooden partitions and dark curtains," each containing a "mattress and trash can."

Early in the morning of Oct. 4, a member of a private Logan Circle “men’s social club” fell to his death. According to a D.C. police report, the 47-year-old man was discovered in the stairwell leading to the basement of 1618 14th St. NW, the victim of “blunt impact injury of head.” Police believe the man may have tumbled down the stairs; the organizer of the club told the Washington Blade that the man likely fell on a “cement floor,” where he “possibly hit his head on a metal pipe or a brick wall.”

The man’s injury was sustained during the regular activities of the club, which include nightly gay sex events called “Men’s Parties,” as well as meetings of the “Jack Off Enthusiasts of Washington and Baltimore.” The accident has drawn public scrutiny over the private meetings, as well as a defense: Following the death, the club’s organizer told police that his establishment provides “a safe place for gay men to have consensual sex.”

How does a club meant to provide a “safe place” end up hosting a member’s death? By working off a creative definition of “safe.”

At Men’s Parties, safety doesn’t mean ensuring that the apartment’s stairs, surfaces, and exposed metal pipes provide a secure sexual landscape for party attendees. It doesn’t even mean encouraging members to engage in protected sex. At 1618 14th St., “safe” means ensuring anonymous sex for a group of gay men sporting wedding rings, sensitive careers, or shame.

For a “men’s social club,” the regularly scheduled activities included little socializing. “There is very little to none, in terms of conversation,” says one visitor to the club, who says he has attended Men’s Parties over a dozen times in the past six years. “Everything is kept strictly anonymous. No one asks for phone numbers, and no one ever really leaves with someone else,” he says. “People come there, do their business, and leave.” The club reinforced the anonymity with a cover of darkness. “The steps leading down to the basement floor were very, very dark,” he says. “I think your eyes, under normal circumstances, could adjust. However, the place was still very dark and the steps were very steep.”

Unfortunately for Men’s Parties, police and city officials operate on a more traditional definition of “safety.” The man’s death marks the second major incident at the club to draw the scrutiny of the police, city officials, and neighbors. In 2005, a candle ignited a mattress in the building’s upper floor, causing $5,000 in damages and bringing fire officials inside the club. According to the Blade, the emergency response revealed an establishment with “exit signs, a reception desk, a row of gym lockers, and signs stating the hours the place was open”—but no certificate of occupancy or business licenses. In November of that year, five months following the fire, ads for the parties read: “We are expecting to move soon. Please call for more information.”

But the most heated safety concerns surrounding the Men’s Parties lie outside the scope of city regulation. According to the frequent visitor to the club, “The most dangerous condition there was the lack of condoms.…There are no bowls of condoms upstairs or downstairs, where most of the sex takes place,” he says. “To me, this was always a recipe for disaster.”

At first, Men’s Parties attempted to weather the unwelcome scrutiny of police, city officials, and neighbors. The evening following the death, the club had reopened for business. On Oct. 9, a regular half-page ad ran in the back pages of the Blade, inviting readers to come “socialize.” The same issue contained a news item on the man’s death. But within a week of the incident, the club had shuttered under the weight of exposure. The front gate, typically left ajar to signal that the party is on, had been locked. A message left on the advertised phone number now informs callers, “We are temporarily closed until further notice.”

A typical advertisement in the Washington Blade.

For years, the club had thrived under a thin cover: organized snacking. In an interview with NBC 4, self-identified “volunteer” Skip Miller described the activities of the club: “We have videos. We have sodas. We have snacks,” he said. In a Logan Circle ANC meeting addressing the death, 3rd District police Lieutenant Vanessa Moore said that the head of the club “does not take money per se. He does take donations for chips, dips, and soda. And we’ll leave it at that.”

Club memberships were easy to come by. All you had to do was show up at 1618 14th St. and provide a donation at the door. The club received plenty of donations in recent years, thanks to the shuttering of gay clubs displaced by Nationals Park. As the city’s above-board clubs struggled to secure properties and licenses in new neighborhoods, Men’s Parties reaped the benefits of their closures, under the table, courting business with ads that read: “The spirit of Southeast lives on.” That spirit included a little bit more than light snacking. “No one pays $12 to eat stale pretzels and off-label lemon lime soda,” the visitor says. “The snacks are placed in large communal bowls and grabbed by hands that have been up asses.” The club’s main activity required little overhead. “Many are having bareback sex, but some are only masturbating or receiving oral sex,” he says.

Twelve dollars may be a bit pricey for stale pretzels, but it’s a small price to pay for anonymity. And no one has benefited from the club’s secrecy more than its organizers. In a 2005 item on the fire, the Blade declined to print the organizer’s name because “he is not openly gay at his regular place of work.” The Oct. 4 death prompted the Blade to get a little bit more specific: “The organizer of the men’s parties…asked that he be identified only as David.” Even the run-down conditions of the club may have benefited the organizers. “A lot of people, gay and straight, don’t know the place exists,” says the partygoer. “Among those that do, there is such shame attached to go to the place—not because of the sex, but because it is so dirty, grimy, smelly—that most don’t talk about it openly.”

Records show that David J. Butler incorporated a domestic nonprofit called the “D.C. Wrestling Club” at his Foggy Bottom apartment in 1994. The club’s members were described as “sports enthusiasts, especially of collegiate wrestling.” Butler, 68, is listed as the club’s president, treasurer, and registered agent. The club’s secretary, Robert D. Meza, listed his residence as 1618 14th St. NW. For a time, the incorporation lent an air of legitimacy to party organizers and provided an easy explanation for donation cash flow. The Department of Consumer and Regulatory Affairs has since revoked the Wrestling Club’s corporation status.

Butler did not return several messages left at the club’s advertised number, nor did he respond to a note left at his Foggy Bottom residence. Knocks at 1618 14th St. were unanswered.

If Men’s Parties remains closed, its clientele may be left without a place to meet up. Communication among this crowd of anonymous sex seekers, after all, has always been a bit awkward. Several years ago, a flier appeared in the neighborhood that read: “If you had sex with Skip at Men Party 1618 14th St You need to get tested HIV.”

UPDATE: District of Columbia files lawsuit against Men's Parties

D.C. Police Describe Men's Parties Location: Used Condoms, Glory Holes, and a Crucifix

Photo by Darrow Montgomery

A police report has been filed in the weekend death of a man at a Logan Circle sex club known for hosting "Men's Parties" and meetings of the "Jack Off Enthusiasts Club." The report was taken on Sunday, Oct. 4 at 5:26 a.m. In the report, the sex club, located at 1618 14th Street NW, is listed as a "tavern/night club." The exact location of the death is listed as a "basement/laundry room" and "stairwell." The narrative section of the report details the emergency response to a report of a man in "an unconscious condition" inside the apartment:

On the listed date and time, [the reporting person] reports that he discovered [the victim] in an unconscious condition inside of the listed location. District of Columbia Ambulance #21 responded to the scene and discovered that [the victim] had no signs of life. [The victim] was pronounced dead on the scene by (OCMI) Mli Mack on October 4, 2009, at 0835 hours. District of Columbia medical examiner's cruiser #5 responded to the scene and transported C-1 to the District of Columbia Medical Examiner's Office. On the scene: Det. Smith (homicide), homicide squad #3, Commander McCoy (CR.28), Watch Commander Lt. J. Monk (CR.300), Officer R. Nitz (Mobile Crime)

I have a call out to the 3rd District to account for the three-hour difference between the time the report was taken (5:26 a.m.) and the time the man was pronounced dead (8:35 a.m.).

Yesterday, Lieutenant Vanessa Moore said that the victim may have broken his neck following a fall down the stairs. Today, Beverly Fields, spokesperson for the Office of the Chief Medical Examiner, said that the victim's cause of death is listed as "blunt impact injury to the head." The exact "manner of death" and a toxicology report on the victim are still pending.

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Death at Logan Circle Men's Party Apartment

"Men's Party" Sex Club Victim May Have Broken Neck

A man died over the weekend in a Logan Circle apartment known for holding late-night "Men's Parties," Borderstan reports. The death was reported to have occurred inside 1618A 14th Street NW (shown in map above).

Details of the man's death—including the cause of death and the name of the deceased—remain unclear, but Acting Sgt. Kenny Bryson of the Metropolitan Police Department's public information office confirms that the death occurred sometime "Saturday night or Sunday morning" and that it did not appear to be a homicide.

"At this point there doesn’t appear to be any foul play, nothing of criminal intent," says Bryson. And as long as the death doesn't spark a criminal investigation, it's likely that the man's name will not be released by D.C. police. "We generally don’t list an outside death that doesn’t have any criminal intent," he says. "With criminal investigations, we'll do that, but the name is never released publicly until next of kin is notified."

A 2005 Metro Weekly story on a fire at the same address reported the apartment regularly hosted late-night "Men's Parties" and meetings of the "Jack Off Enthusiasts of Washington and Baltimore" (The number listed with the Jack Off club is now invalid; a call to a number listed with the apartment building has not been returned). Also unclear is whether this man was attending a party at the residence, or was in the building for a separate reason.

If you have any information on the incident or the locale, let me know. Commenters over at Borderstan have got their own theories.

"Movies," he parrots back to me without inflection.

I look from him to the other bike guy, who's suddenly very interested in stripping the wheel in his hands. I introduce myself as a writer from the City Paper and ask him about the movies again.

"Ugh, god," he says after he realizes I'm not only here for the movies, but I'm here to write about the movies. He cradles his face in his hands and mumbles something incoherent into his palms.

The shop is silent for a second.

"Yes," the man finally says. "This is the bike shop with the porn in the back."

But that's all he'll say. Clearly, bikes are his thing, not smut. Before going back to what he's doing, he points out that technically–technically–the porn is a separate business from Rollin Cycles. Hence the dirty white banner over the entrance that reads Video 2000. That's also why the movie section at the back of the store is cordoned off from the rest of the operation  by a graveyard of bike frames and tire carcasses. The man behind the counter (who won't give me his name) demands delineation.

But Charles–the heavyset man with the glasses who's currently cataloging DVDs and nonchalantly listening to our conversation–Charles "wouldn't be a business man" if he wasn't willing to talk about his video operation with a journalist.

"Hear that guys?" I say to the mechanics. "No such thing as bad press."

"Yeah. Right," says the guy behind the counter, aware, perhaps, that this is not an entirely accurate translation of what Charles just said. On cue, the other mechanic ignores me. (Later, as I'm leaving the shop, the mute mechanic will confide that he doesn't actually work at Rollin Cycles, and is there to use the shop's bike stand to replace his tire.)

"Exactly," Charles says, staring into the back of the mechanic's head before turning to me. "What would you like to know?"

Turns out, the shop sells and rents both adult and general release cinema. Some really good general release cinema, at that: Dawn of the Dead. Silence of the Lambs. A lot of Michael Douglas movies.

There are movies here that I would probably rent if I lived near Logan Circle and weren't in the 21st century and addicted to the convenience of Blockbuster Online. I look around a little more. An orange and black Ruskin Sport leans against what looks like the family section. A blue Iro frame with no wheels is propped up against the lower dramas. A Schwinn obscures a small portion of the extensive horror section.

Charles apologizes for the mess and explains that up until a year ago, Video 2000 was the only business in the building. But the market for in-store rentals, especially porn, which is cheaper and more accessible online, is disappearing. So he decided to let the surly mechanic out front, a friend of his, try running a bike repair store. The decision was a success, and they added sales after Fuji cut them a deal.

Then he shows me the porn room, which is respectfully separated from the two walls of general audience by a cheap red curtain. Inside the alcove are several racks of every-day porn: Pretty boys with pretty girls, pretty girls with pretty girls.

But there's a real drought of weird. Nothing for dwarf fetishists. No porn with pregnant actors. Maybe it's there, but I don't see anything for shitters, pissers, or frotteurs, either. Even the closest-but-not-quite thing to mainstream in the porn community–watchers of gay porn–get the short-shrift here. There's only a handful–literally, there are only 5 or 6 gay movies–of dudes on dudes. And you can just forget about chicks with dicks.

"Our customers are more heterosexual," Charles says, and adds that the few customers who buy gay porn normally buy a lot at a time, though he has no idea why. Also, gay porn costs him twice as much as straight porn, which means he has to rent a gay DVD twice as many times as a straight one to make his money back.

As we return to the front of the shop, Charles, who has been in the movie business for years, confesses that he doesn't think Video 2000 will be around much longer.

"It's dying," he says.

The surly mechanic looks relieved.

Last night, a commenter on this blog made the connection between a Washington Blade story identifying the victim of yesterday's police shooting as David Kerstetter, and a 2003 Metro Weekly feature which highlighted the home Kerstetter shared with his now-deceased partner, Paul Brazitis. Kerstetter was shot and killed by police yesterday inside the condo—part of Logan Circle's Iowa building at 1325 13th St. NW—after he allegedly threatened officers with a knife. A neighbor, who identified Kerstetter to the Blade, said that Kerstetter was suicidal and mourning Brazitis, who died in October of last year. Five years ago, 1325 13th St. was a very different place.
It looks like they had a nice home life, and a really nice home: Crown molding, antique Austrian china set, a $15,000 Viking stove. That was five years ago, when the couple had the luxury of agonizing over interior decorating. Now, both men are dead. After the whirlwind tour of Kerstetter and Brazitis' immaculate home, the Metro Weekly piece ends this quote from Brazitis:

We didn't consider having the inside of this [cabinet] stained — it was this ugly blonde wood inside. One day, I was in the other room painting and all the sudden there was this red mist through the entire house. David was [staining] this cabinet. All the new hardwood floors had red on them, the animals had red on them, we had red on us. That was one thing I should have put my foot down and said, "No!"

Photo from Metro Weekly.