Shorts: ‘Welcome to Tool Shed’ Is a Sobering, Celebratory Call for Unity

The back patio of the Tool Shed, the legendary Palm Springs watering hole, feels like a sweaty mirage. The lights are low, the overhead fans spin and click as a cooling mist descends down, creating an almost dreamy scene to step into. Without even crossing the California state line, I know that I want to visit this setting because of how it represents a safe haven for those who felt like they had nowhere to turn. Daniel Talbott and Andrew Klaus-Vineyard’s documentary short, Welcome to Tool Shed, is not just a tribute to a landmark bar or the people who love it, but it’s a film that wants to meet this current, troublesome moment.

It’s nearly impossible to describe to a straight person what it feels like to step into a gay bar, especially your first gay bar. Many queer or trans people can try to put their finger on that feeling of when their bodies relaxed or how everything inside the bar felt natural and in its proper place. That buzzy aura is singular to a gay and queer coming-of-age, I think. In large cities all across the United States, the hot bar is usually one where you can do dancing or maybe go-go boys are featured on the flyer for a weekend event. But what about the early evening hours or the patrons that make a pit stop before they head home for dinner?

Tool Shed introduces us to several regulars and its owner, Robert Cole, who describes the bar as formerly “dark and dirty” before it was remodeled. There’s something nostalgic and sexy about the signage with its logo of a muscle-bound man above an illustrated wrench. Talbott and Klaus-Vineyard’s film focus on the intersection of the leather community and patrons of a certain age. To a lot of people on the outside, those men, clad in harnesses or black, leather caps, are mostly associated with masculinity or an air of toughness and manliness, but this doc is not solely focused on what makes Tool Shed a piece of history. Yes, the community loves it and needs it. Yes, I want to have a drink with Bobby AKA “Dauber Daddy,” the eldest Tool Shed patron.

Because Talbott and Klaus-Vineyard make it so easy for us to get in line with the film’s rhythms, its guidance into the harsh realities of the last few years feels inevitable. Queer and trans people are not just being targeted by violence in the street but by legislation determined to erode decades of progress and tolerance. Not to mention how going out is on the decline. Our communities have faced tragedies before, but seeing footage of people brazenly lighting rainbow flags on fire and then footage of religious leaders calling for the execution of the entire community is sobering and terrifying. The film begins with a swift recap of the rise of the AIDS crisis and then we hear how Cole had to face adversity after Donald Trump was re-elected into the highest office in the land. Before his victory was even officially announced, the bar was receiving threats on the telephone, and we see how Tool Shed’s owner was affected by this sudden harassment.

Tool Shed will not allow us to run and hide–we can’t afford to. This doc reaches into those dark places that other films might be afraid to venture to. In order for us to secure not just our legacies, we must proclaim our existences over and over again. We cannot dance on a sweaty Saturday night if we do not stand our ground. We cannot let our elder queer and trans pioneers down because we were not paying attention.

The first word in this doc’s title is vital: welcome. One day that word will not just be a greeting but a signifier that we are truly equal and well-represented.