Every week this year, the Lainsville Freak Town Herald is chronicling some of the alternative community's biggest players. This week for our first installment, we're taking a look at a black wolf who is shaping up to take the place of the singular-named Carl as king of the kink hill.
The Red Spotlight: Hawk
by Todd Jones, FTH Staff Writer and Donut Bitch
"King of the hill? This isn't a fucking playground." I made the mistake of letting Hawk read the proposed byline for this first Red Spotlight article, and it was the first thing he mentioned when we sat down for a leisurely dinner.
He suggested the setting for our interview, a private booth at Casey's Steakhouse. If you aren't familiar with Casey's, it's located right at the edge of the gay district and is attached to The Bell Tower Hotel. That'll give you an idea of the clientele: men, usually middle-aged, mixed attire from business suits to biker gear, and plenty of cigar smoke. Luckily, I'd been a cigar fan for years so I braved the atmosphere and the price tag.
Hawk fit right in. He towered over me at about six-foot-seven, and he had leather head to toe. "Let me tell you about this outfit. This outfit cost thirteen thousand dollars. This isn't like wearing designer shit at a red carpet event, this is like putting your fetish where your money goes." Leather suit jacket with dark red hornback alligator on the lapels and up around the collar, fitted leather pants, a stunning pair of tall leather boots, and dress leather gloves that he refused to take off until we had food steaming in front of us. It didn't look high fashion, perhaps more high weird, like a cavalier mafia pimp. The only thing missing was a cigar, which he promised to leave until after dinner. Smart puppy. "I like telling people how much it costs, because frankly, they care. It's impressive. It's like having a fancy car. Even hipsters care if you have a fancy car, even though they say they hate it. If they didn't care, they wouldn't fucking open their mouths. Plus, it was fucking expensive." He seemed honest about that justification.
I couldn't really argue with that.
Hawk was born Harold Allen Kirsch, in Brooklyn, New York. His childhood was marked by familial problems. "My mom was human, which pretty much led to every joke you could imagine about being half skinbag. It doesn't actually matter, I guess, in a biological sense. I don't have human parts any more than any other hybrid. My dad was a black wolf just like me, though, and everyone assumed my mom was a total slut for wanting some animal humping her all over the place. Funny thing was, my dad was actually the slut."
The Kirsch family moved to Lainsville when Hawk was eight years old, trading a run-down brownstone for a trailer 'in the middle of nowhere' out on Hog Lake Road. His mother got a job as a park ranger for the nearby Hog Lake Nature Conservation, while his father mostly worked sales jobs while pining away for the big time as a screen writer. "I thought my dad was full of shit. If he wanted to be a writer, the big city was it, and Lainsville kind of had this reputation of 'that place near Albany'. Not so big. Plus, he was a total fucking cad. I don't even think he was hiding it by the time I hit high school."
The wolf spent high school alternating between AP mathematics and drama club, both of which set the stage. Drama wet his appetite for costuming, culminating in him winning a forensics award for reenacting the famous 'badass' monologue from trashy soft-porn cowboy B-flick "The Gunslinger". Math, on the other hand, "Sucked ass. So I was good at math, so what? I wasn't one of the smart kids, I mean I didn't fit with them, they all had rich families and I lived in a trailer with a park ranger and a jerk." Once he graduated, Hawk went off to Lainsville CC to study mechanical engineering, which landed him a stint doing diesel engine development for a marine power company. "Imagine me, wearing this shit, sitting behind a desk drawing stuff with Auto-CAD. Isn't that funny?"
His choice of career somewhat led to his meeting the influential Carl, former owner of Casey's, The Pit, and almost an entire street of retail shops in the gay district. "I ended up at The Pit the day I graduated from community college. I got on my bike, which I'd worked on in school, and figured I'd hit The Pit, which was then a rough kind of leather biker club. I ran into this total freak, this maned wolf who acted like some bad mashup of movie pirate and 80's glam rocker. I kind of fell in with him and he kept me coming back to the club and causing trouble. Eventually, Carl took notice and instead of banning me, had me stay in this insane bondage dungeon he had for a week. He wanted to teach me a lesson. Actually, one of his friends wanted to mess with me, but I ended up on Carl's good side as a result. I took everything in stride, you know? They dished out weird shit and I took it."
Hawk slowly started shaping his life together, turning some inherited property out in Carlton Hills from an old house into a stunning Ralph Claude modernist revival house. He started a custom motorcycle engine company, then merged it with Lainsville Powersports, then bought up a string of dealers. "All that engineering shit really ended up helping me, because I could go down to the machine shop and hold a conversation with the guys building our gear, and I wasn't being patronizing. I could have stepped in, I could listen to their complaints and it meant something. I wasn't just the guy with the fancy car and the nice boots who had the big office."
Fifteen years later, and Hawk was no longer causing trouble at The Pit. Just a week before my interview, the infamous club reopened - with the black wolf at the helm. "Let me put it this way: when I first set foot in The Pit, it was rough. It was hard and kinky, it was like a cross between some downtown overindulged night club and a fucking cowboy saloon for gay ranch studs, it was the kind of place where you would get heckled, pushed around, maybe even coerced into shit you didn't want. Carl got it polished up to the point where you went there because you were going to get treated like that. I'm keeping that up, and I'm just making it more. I'm going to turn up the volume. I'm going to make it a place where you can have a drink with your kinky friends, you can sweat it out on the dance floor, or go all the way to the bottom or the top. I am, to use some business buzzword bullshit, vertically integrating the gay kink experience."
I had to wonder why we weren't at the revamped club for the interview. Hawk had lit up when talking about it, like he was genuinely excited instead of just smug and sarcastic. I waited until after dinner, when we were both sated and Hawk was enjoying a Padron 7000 Maduro. The gloves went back on. He leaned forward. "You want to know why I didn't take you to the club? You better print this or I'm not gonna look like enough of a tawdry asshole. If I showed up at The Pit with some little fox on my arm, I'd have to live up to my reputation. I don't know what your newspaper would think of their roving features reporter coming into work with wolf cum running down his leg."
I don't know what they would think, either.