The People That Made The Pearl: An Ode to The Heart of Denver’s Only Lesbian Bar

“It felt like a dream job, with a dream space and a dream community,” said Lennon Doggett, a staff member at The Pearl, Denver’s only lesbian bar that was shut down this month and is now likely to go to auction. 

Over a home-cooked meal last Monday, the staff at The Pearl met, as friends, in what has been a very difficult time. Their lives were turned upside down, following the closure of the space they were working desperately to keep alive. 

After the initial news of The Pearl closing, the bar’s owner created a GoFundMe that raised $83,000. Rumors circled that this money could take the bar through Pride month, a celebration that is equally exhilarating, something to look forward to, and necessary. 

In a video shot, produced and edited by Alex Kramer, former employee at The Pearl, the managers and staff gathered to share their side of the story. Thirty employees lost their jobs overnight. 

The staff worked hard to preserve the space. You can feel it in the way they describe the situation, how agonizing it was to keep doing what they believed in, at a cost. It’s apparent in how they invested their own time, money and resources into The Pearl, night after night. 

“Sometimes Sabina and Lexy were paying out of their personal accounts to cover the payment so that [performers] could get paid on time,” Emma Rosenfeld, a member of the management team, explained. 

“And Lexy buying her own square system,” Doggett added. “To ensure that the money wasn’t going into a negative account.” 

The GoFundMe was created by an owner and gained traction fast, securing funding for The Pearl under false pretenses. 

Those donating were unaware of how deep of a hole The Pearl was in, and how the staff was the reason the establishment could remain open, hanging on by a thread. A staff that cared deeply is what made The Pearl so special. 

“There’s a heavy weight of feeling like it’s on us to create this space,” said Sabina Palermo, a manager at The Pearl. “But it’s also a weight that I’m, at least willing to, attempt to hold.”

“It’s less of a weight and more like a ton of doors opening,” Doggett replied. 

“It’s important to do it the right way too,” continued Rosenfeld. “The concept we had wasn’t the issue. There’s a lot of talk online and in service industries that sapphic spaces don’t work. Which is not true. We have the numbers. We were bringing in anywhere from $60-100k every single month.”

But backstage and in the cash register, The Pearl’s situation was dire. 

The owners defaulted on their payment plan in March and were faced with the reality of owing $14,000 by the end of that same week. Meanwhile, the staff was witnessing how well the business was doing, yet the finances were burdening the entire establishment. 

“The issue wasn’t what we were doing. The issue was everything we were up against,” said Rosenfeld.  

The problem didn’t start at The Pearl. Founders Dom Garcia and Ashlee Cassity previously operated a tiki-themed lesbian speakeasy called ‘Pearl Divers’ inside Your Mom’s House, an iconic Denver venue that was also seized by the city for unpaid taxes. They left what was unfolding behind the scenes to open The Pearl in the Mercury Cafe space, another iconic Denver venue that shut down due to financial troubles. 

“Rushing into Your Mom’s House, then rushing into the Mercury; those were both bad business decisions and it snowballed from the beginning,” said Doggett. 

Rosenfeld nodded in agreement. Under the setting Denver sun, seated for dinner, Palermo’s puppy runs in the background and you can slightly hear a gust of wind as the leaves rustle. There’s a strong feeling of empathy amongst the staff of The Pearl, gathered together to share a piece of this story that deserves to be told. 

Together, they can relate to one another. They all felt the stress bubbling up within the business. They were also there to live, to work, to connect and even to play. The Pearl was a space fostering individuality, creativity, intention and art. It gave performers of all kinds a stage, a microphone, a platform and a purpose. 

The loss is major, and it is especially strong for those who put the key in the door each night, jiggling the door handle to ensure it is locked, and wondering what could possibly happen when they return the next day. 

Now, the door is locked for good, and the city has the key. Inside are belongings from the staff, including a swamp cooler Lexy purchased with personal money for parties, the photobooth with hundreds of photos of patrons, and roughly $2,000 worth of art created by local artists, a program run by Palermo. 

“Just because the need for that space is so desperate doesn’t mean you need to sacrifice your morals and your ethics,” said Rosenfeld. “I think it’s important to still do what’s right, and there are ways that we can get together and we can build community in this time until we have another space.” 

The Pearl follows the closures of lesbian bar Blush & Blu and queer bookstore Petals & Pages, removing intentional spaces created for this community to connect. While the situation is disheartening, the staff at The Pearl is continuing to invest in what they think is right, and encourages their community to do the same. 

“Keep going to different queer events, I know Lexy’s going to still offer events and other venues, go to those,” Rosenfeld said. 

“Support the queer bars that you have been going to, like Charlie’s and X Bar and Tracks, and ask them for more sapphic events,” said Palermo. “And BIPOC, and trans-friendly, and book more drag kings.” 

In Kramer’s video, images of parties in the space overlay as the staff speaks. As viewers, it’s almost as if we’re there, in the crowd at The Pearl, where those within it can be completely themselves. 

“We saw the impact that The Pearl made to the community and how contagious [it was],” said Palermo. “If we keep up that momentum, I don’t think it has to disappear.” 

“I know it’s my dream job, I know it’s probably their dream job too,” said Rosenfeld as she points to her colleagues on either side of her. 

“I never could’ve dreamed of working in a lesbian sapphic bar,” said Doggett. 

“No! Let alone fucking running it!” exclaimed Rosenfeld, who reached down to grab [right’s] knee in solidarity as they started to cry. 

“Working with you guys just meant everything,” Doggett said in tears, as [left] got up to embrace their two colleagues in a hug. The tender moment is a heartfelt, yet heartbreaking, reminder that the staff at The Pearl did everything they could possibly do. 

They poured their hearts into a space that deserved to be preserved because without it, there’s not another gathering place. When spaces like these close, they take a piece of the community with them. But this community is resilient and one that doesn’t disappear. It endures. 

To support the people in Kramer’s video along with the staff at The Pearl, donate to the SpotFund, created and endorsed by staff.