DATE: Thursday, June 12, 1997               TAG: 9706120001

SECTION: LOCAL                   PAGE: B13  EDITION: FINAL 

TYPE: Opinion 

SOURCE: Patrick Lackey 

                                            LENGTH:   68 lines

TOWN POINT PARK NEEDS HOOTERS-FREE ZONES

Friday night at Harborfest was terrific, up to a point.

First my wife and I heard Tito Puente and his Latin jazz band. I made a living from drumming before stumbling into journalism, so for me, watching a percussionist like Tito is heaven. He has led bands for half a century. The man is an institution.

Next we watched Poncho Sanchez and his Latin jazz band. That was even better. The sound was clean, and all the percussionists cooked, especially Sanchez, a conga player.

The evening was cold by June standards, but my wife and I were dressed for the weather. Besides, we danced nearly every number. When you're moving, cold beats hot. Life was grand.

Perhaps 20 minutes into Sanchez's concert, the musicians paused and looked to their left. Next thing anyone knew, this rhythm-impaired Hooters girl hopped onto the stage and began to shimmy, more or less.

There is something culturally jarring about a swinging Latin band being interrupted by a Hooters girl who moves as though she learned to dance from a book. I've seen cows coming in from the pasture to be milked that moved better, their udders and rumps swaying naturally to the rhythm of their walk.

When the Hooters girl first appeared, I thought, ``I didn't pay to watch an amateur wiggle.'' After remembering the concert was free, I thought, ``I didn't pay $5 to park to watch an amateur wiggle.'' After awhile, I thought, ``Bring on the Guernseys.''

The Hooters girl danced close to one of the musicians, then another, then another, then another. Thank goodness a much larger group, say the Vienna Boys Choir, wasn't performing.

By close, I mean an inch away. The Hooters girl's smile was simultaneously come-hither and wholesome.

Call me old-fashioned, but I don't think a seductress should be wholesome. In the movies, they aren't. Being seduced by a wholesome bad dancer must be like getting high on milk gone sour. Something is lacking.

I wondered if the Hooters girl would lap dance with the drummer, but she didn't. Actually, she seemed embarrassed and probably did the best she could. She stayed onstage for an entire number, which seemed interminable.

Finally she left, so the band could concentrate anew on its music.

A few tunes later, up popped the original Hooters girl and two more. I can't say what they did. My wife asked, ``Wanna leave?'' I said, ``Sure.'' It was one of those rare moments when you know what the right answer to your spouse's question is. But I was ready to go anyway.

Perhaps the trio of Hooters girls sang the most glorious three-part harmony ever heard this side of heaven. Perhaps they sang ``Ave Maria'' in Spanish to a rumba beat. Perhaps.

Still, concert-goers shouldn't have to live in fear that a Hooters girl might materialize and dance badly at any moment.

For that matter, concert-goers should not be subjected to such crass commercialism. What next? People onstage wearing sandwich boards advertising all the Waterside restaurants and shops?

Town Point Park must immediately declare Hooters-free zones. The zones should be marked by signs each showing a silhouette of an owl with a slash across it. All stages should be Hooters-free zones forever.

If I'm being too prudish about all this, if concert-goers really want to see scantily clad dancers, then let's get professionals.

J.B.'s Gallery of Girls is an established local company that could provide them.

And to be fair, this being 1997, not 1957, we should have male dancers as well. Perhaps Chippendale would be so kind as to supply a few.

My preference, however, is to leave the musicians alone to play.

Town Point Park needs Hooters-free zones MEMO: Mr. Lackey is an editorial writer for The Virginian-Pilot.

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