He set out to save Arlington's only gay bar. He says it rescued him
The crystal chandelier flickered to life, illuminating a corner of 1851 Club, a gay bar Dalton Haynes purchased in 2021. Directly under the yellow light sits a wooden set of furniture near the club’s main door. To its left hangs a photo and plaque. They honor Haynes’ grandmother, Sherry Boling. "That spot where that chandelier is, right where that table is," Haynes, 34, said, "that's the last place that my grandma and I shared a hand of poker together." Boling is crucial to understanding who Haynes is and how he has worked to build the LGBTQ+ community through the city's only gay bar. His advocacy for safety and inclusivity, both in and out of the bar, has garnered praise from patrons and Arlington leaders, who credit Haynes for keeping 1851 Club's legacy alive. The club, he said, saved him as he pieced together his world in the days, weeks and months following his beloved grandmother's death. 1851 Club, located on West Division Street, is for everyone, LGBTQ+ and straight, Haynes said. Every week, the club offers comedy open mic nights, karaoke, bingo and pool tournaments. Steven Morris, executive producer of Theatre Arlington, called 1851 a “safe and friendly atmosphere.” Bar patron Haley Barron said the club and Haynes brought her smile back and helped her feel comfortable with herself. Even the city’s leader, a self-labeled 64-year-old white heterosexual Christian man, is a fan. After assuming office in 2021, Arlington Mayor Jim Ross created multiple advisory councils — including separate ones for the Black, Latino and LGBTQ+ communities — to better understand Arlington’s diverse populations. “It was great to have the 1851 Club open up to people and have some food and drinks and having different parts of the community socialize in there and realizing that while it does cater to the LGBTQ+ community, there are plenty of heterosexuals that go there just to have a good time,” Ross said, referring to 1851 hosting a gathering of advisory councils. Haynes has engaged with the LGBTQ+ Advisory Council since its establishment. “He brings a passion for not just helping the LGBTQ+ community in Arlington but the entire community of Arlington,” Ross said. It is easy to see the love Haynes has for his club, his staff — most of whom are his friends — his patrons and his community. It’s how Boling raised him. “I want to do this place the way she raised us: loving everybody and not caring about who you love and what color your skin is, what your faith is — any of that,” Haynes said. “She just loved everybody, and that's what I want to do.” It was a Friday. Haynes was 13 years old, watching Boling apply makeup for family poker night. He approached her. He had to tell her about his realization: Haynes preferred Barbie dolls over G.I. Joe. While the boys in his class were crazy about girls, he was attracted to guys. He recounted the conversation while using his vape to imitate Boling’s makeup blender. “Grandma, I gotta talk to you about something,” he said. “OK, well, what is it?” his grandmother responded. “Well,” Haynes said, “I'm gay.” “Are you not going to be here on Friday for poker?” she asked Haynes. His eyes went soft. “Grandma didn't care at all. She was always my biggest fan.” But he had another worry. Growing up, Haynes once struggled with his faith and his sexuality. Would he “go to hell” for being gay? He, again, turned to his grandmother. “God doesn't make trash, and he doesn't make things that he doesn't want. He made you just the way you are, and also he doesn’t make mistakes, so here you are in his image,” Boling said to her grandson. When people weaponize religion against the LGBTQ+ community, Haynes feels more sad than angry, he said, because religion is about bringing people to God. He doesn’t want to push his religion on someone, but he’s open to discussing it if people are curious. “Everything that he does is from the heart,” said Matthew Hanson, Haynes’ boyfriend of one year. “Whether it's in his personal life or in his business life, it's all about, ‘How is this going to affect the people around me, and how can I show them a Christ-like example?’” Shortly after Haynes’ first trip to the 1851 Club, Boling’s breast cancer diagnosis contributed to ending her ladies poker league that lasted for about 40 years. Haynes contacted the club’s management at the time to host a poker night for her, he said. The first week saw 10 people. Then 40. At some point, the club didn’t have enough poker tables. “I can't tell you how many times I would look up and I couldn't find her because she was outside holding somebody while they're crying about a breakup or in the bathroom talking with the girls about whatever,” Haynes said. On Dec. 15, 2020, Boling died. Haynes prayed for signs. Where should he go? What should he do? How should he rebuild? The sign arrived a few weeks later. It was early January 2021, smack-dab in the middle of the COVID-19 pandemic. Haynes was on Facebook when he came across a post from the previous management of 1851 Club announcing the bar’s closure. Haynes contacted his attorney and drafted up the paperwork. Within a few days, the bar was his. At 11 p.m. on a recent Friday, the drag performers weren’t ready yet. They blew past their showtime. Haynes took a deep breath. He had learned not to rush drag performers — or else. Instead, he hugged and shook the hands of most of the 100-plus attendees filling up the small dance floor and back patio. As the bar got busier, he jumped in behind the counter. Those who frequent the club said that it was a normal sight. “He's not just an owner,” said Nicholas James, the club’s top security. “He's a friend.” Hanson said Haynes has a mission of “five-minute friend,” which means all patrons should feel at home at the bar within that time frame. “The longer we've been together, and the more I see him in the element, the more respect I have for him because it's got to be tiring to do it over and over again, week in and week out,” he said. Haynes said that like many gay people, he partied with his friends on the weekends in his 20s, often thinking of ways he would improve the bars. But he had never owned a bar or worked in one before 1851 Club. After the bar’s reopening in February 2021, Haynes poured in 17-hour days, spending nights studying laws and fixing up decorations. Sometimes, it wasn’t feasible for Haynes to go home and sleep, so he slept in a military camping cot in the middle of the bar. Even now, he occasionally stops. And soaks it all in. “I take a step back and walk over to the bar, and I turn around and I see a full dance floor of people that are just having a great time, and I'm like, ‘We did this. This is so cool,’” Haynes said. Arlington has a perfect 100 score on the Human Rights Campaign’s Municipal Equality Index, which examines how cities tailor laws, policies and services to LGBTQ+ people. The city recently hosted its fourth annual Pride celebration, which attracted over 10,000 people. Haynes plays a key part in educating Arlington that the LGBTQ+ community is simply a part of the city, Ross said. “He talks to the people in the bar and gets information from them,” said Morris, who served on the LGBTQ+ Advisory Council with Haynes. “He tells them what the community is doing. He tries to be a go-between between the community and the advisory committee and gets information in front of the mayor.” The city has addressed safety concerns related to the 1851 Club and worked to ensure the LGBTQ+ community feels comfortable expressing themselves — one of Haynes’ primary objectives on the advisory council, Ross said. “I consider Dalton a friend,” he said. “He’s a great guy, loves his city, loves the entire community, loves the LGBTQ+ community.” His work doesn’t stop at the committee. Haynes helped ensure Arlington’s first two Pride events happened by providing the bartenders, alcohol and his own money, Morris said. These days, Haynes no longer works long hours every day, but his schedule is still packed. He maintains close ties with customers from his hair business, crafts jewelry and takes photos. Haynes admits that Hanson has to mostly work around his schedule. “Bless him,” Haynes exclaimed. Hanson doesn’t mind — he said he wants to be Haynes’ support system. “I think that's the job of a partner, is to recognize we have our own individual lives, but there's a part of a partnership that it bleeds over,” he said. It was 11:45 p.m., and drag queen Kiana Lee took the stage to welcome patrons and introduce those working at the bar — including Haynes. Drag queen Bronx Davenport then lip-synced Beyoncé’s verse in Jay-Z’s “Hollywood” to rowdy cheers from the crowd. “I'm proud to be able to give people a place,” Haynes said. “It's so important to me to give people a safe place to go, a place where people can go and get drunk and have a good time and then the next day be like, ‘Oh my God, was I a mess last night?’” “And you say, ‘Girl, we were at 18. It's not a big deal. They're fine. Nobody cared.’” As the spotlight moved around the room, it captured the photo and plaque that glowed in the warmth of the chandelier. In the frame, Haynes smiles next to Boling, whose name is etched in bronze below. @DangHLe news-editor.shorthorn@uta.edu
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