A robust group of men, characterized by their beards and clad in striking black leather attire—pants, hats, vests, and jackets—momentarily occupied the entrance of Rockbar. This establishment, a quintessential dive bar, sits on the fringe of Manhattan’s West Village. Their initial scan of the surroundings revealed an unexpected scene: the usual patrons were replaced by individuals sporting long hair, spectacles held together by tape, and comic-themed T-shirts. It dawned on me that this bar was likely the regular haunt for these imposing figures, and the nerdy comedy show, my reason for being there, was decidedly not on their agenda. They retreated as quickly as they appeared, but not before I caught sight of the back of one vest. It featured a yellow circle, bisected by the iconic blue and red male symbol, and the inscription Empire City MC.
Some months later, I found myself in a coffee shop, awaiting “Evil” Ed Caraballo and Chaz Antonelli. I had since discovered they were the current president and secretary, respectively, of the Empire City Motorcycle Club (ECMC). This club, as I learned, holds the distinction of being among the world’s oldest motorcycle organizations exclusively for gay men who are also avid riders. Established in 1964 by a dozen bikers from the New York metropolitan area, ECMC marked its 50th anniversary in October 2014. While the claim to being the absolute oldest all-gay, all-male group might be contested by others, Empire City stands unique in its unwavering requirement: every member must own and ride a motorcycle. This commitment to riding is central to the identity of these Gay Bikers.
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The phenomenon of motorcycle organizations surged across the United States in the post-World War II decades of the 1950s, 60s, and 70s. Returning soldiers, accustomed to the adrenaline of combat, sought similar thrills and camaraderie in civilian life. This trend was amplified by the burgeoning “bad boy biker” image, romanticized across American culture from the 1950s onwards, largely thanks to the seminal film The Wild One. Marlon Brando’s portrayal of Johnny Strabler, a defiant biker icon in leather jacket, cap, jeans, and of course, his motorcycle, became a symbol of rebellious freedom. Coupled with Tom of Finland’s illustrations of muscular, leather-clad men on bikes, these images became aspirational, representing both liberty and danger. This potent mix cemented the enduring association of motorcycles with a certain kind of raw, untamed masculinity, a sentiment that resonates deeply within the gay biker community.
A close-up of the Empire City MC patch, showcasing the club’s emblem.
I must admit, my own perception of motorcycling aligns with this notion of inherent “badassery,” invariably soundtracked by Steppenwolf’s anthem, ”Born to Be Wild.” When Ed and Chaz entered the coffee shop, they embodied this very expectation. Both were enveloped in seasoned leather jackets and denim jeans, secured by substantial black leather belts with prominent silver buckles. Their footwear consisted of sturdy black boots, and their demeanor exuded strength and purpose. They were, however, also welcoming, courteous, and well-informed—individuals you wouldn’t want to cross.
Chaz, at 48, sports a thick, horseshoe mustache, a mix of brown and gray bristles, and a tattoo of a leather heart emblazoned on his neck. Over his leather riding jacket, he wore a denim vest, its edges frayed. This vest was a tapestry of patches: flags from nations he’d visited, pride flags, and slogans like “It’s only kinky the first time”—all orbiting the central ECMC logo. Ed, 46, presented a more streamlined figure in jeans that broke perfectly above his boots, and a sharp black turtleneck beneath his black leather Empire City vest. His beard was meticulously sculpted, framing his face with clean lines. Ed’s association with Empire City began in 2010, while Chaz officially joined in 2008, though his involvement with the club stretches back to 1989. These men are the embodiment of the modern gay biker – confident, stylish, and deeply connected to their community.
“Personally, I think when you’re with a group of guys who are into motorcycles, the strongest common ground is that shared passion for bikes, and maybe a little taste for danger,” Ed explained. “Being a gay biker, and finding that group, you end up with people who understand your interests, your comfort zones,” he continued. “It’s about more than just talking about it; it’s about living it together.” This shared experience is what defines the brotherhood of gay bikers in ECMC.
Empire City currently comprises 16 members, including associate members and pledges. Full members’ ages span from their early 30s to mid-60s, representing diverse ethnic backgrounds. Remarkably, about 95 percent are professionals, working in fields as varied as landscaping, chemical engineering, education, law, psychology, and cosmetology. Some are retired. A core tenet is responsibility, especially concerning motorcycle maintenance. They are not road ragers or bar brawlers, though they certainly enjoy socializing. In Ed’s words, the club consists of mature men united by their love for motorcycle riding, secure enough in themselves to contribute to the group’s dynamic, regardless of their life stage. This maturity and professionalism sets the ECMC gay bikers apart.
This group dynamic is fueled by a calendar full of riding and social events throughout the year. Highlights include their annual Memorial Day Biker Weekend, featuring a catered picnic and a traditional bike blessing—where each bike is christened with a name and blessed by the club’s chaplain. There’s also the annual Holiday Party and Toy Drive, supporting the Leake & Watts foster care organization. The club actively participates in charity rides like Hogs for Hope, benefiting the Ronald McDonald House, volunteers at events like the Imperial Court of New York’s Night of 1,000 Gowns, and proudly marches in the annual New York Pride Parade. These activities underscore the ECMC gay bikers’ commitment to community and philanthropy.
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In our increasingly digital world, ECMC’s enduring appeal lies in the tangible community it offers, something elusive online. “The club community has survived because it meets fundamental human needs,” Chaz noted. “Within a motorcycle club, these bonds are amplified beyond those of a general leather club or men’s club because we share so much more,” he elaborated. Men’s clubs, often centered around specific fetishes like leather, might include some motorcycle riders, but they lack the 100 percent all-riding ethos of Empire City. “We ride as one, we protect each other. When we ride in formation, we are a finely tuned machine. We are vigilant on the road, ensuring our presence is known when changing lanes.” This emphasis on mutual support and safety is a defining characteristic of gay biker brotherhood.
Chaz’s own path to the club began in the leather community, a scene both he and Ed actively engage with. Many ECMC members are part of this leather scene, though it’s not a prerequisite for membership. For some within Empire City, a motorcycle is the ultimate leather accessory, while for others, the pure joy of riding is paramount. The intersection of leather culture and motorcycle riding is a significant aspect of the gay biker identity within ECMC.
Ultimately, Empire City is about the ride and the profound brotherhood it fosters. Members join and often remain for decades—20, 40, even 50 years—bound by the shared freedom, experiences, and trust forged on two wheels in a group. This long-term commitment and deep sense of loyalty are hallmarks of the ECMC gay biker community.
Emil Solis, 81, a member for 50 years, has missed only two ECMC Christmas parties. One absence was the inaugural party in December 1964, predating his membership. Though Emil ceased riding in 1996, he holds the title of ECMC Emeritus member, exempt from bike ownership, licensing, and dues. Emil’s long tenure exemplifies the enduring bonds within the gay biker club.
Back in the 1960s, when Emil joined, the term “gay” was rarely spoken aloud, and “out” was not an option. ECMC’s genesis was as a clandestine organization, born out of necessity. Openly identifying as gay carried severe risks: job loss, eviction, alienation from family and friends. The historical context of secrecy and social stigma is crucial to understanding the origins of this gay biker community.
“When my late partner Bill and I joined the club in June ’65, it didn’t yet have the name Empire City,” Emil recalled. “They were considering fancier, more traditional names. But Empire City resonated with everyone. It’s neutral—it doesn’t scream ‘gay,’ it just says ‘New York City.’ That’s how it stuck.” The name “Empire City” reflects the need for discretion while also embracing their New York identity.
Even now, speaking in the lobby of The Center, New York’s Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, and Transgender Community Center, Emil lowers his voice when he says “gay.” Despite the progress symbolized by figures like Lady Gaga and her “Born This Way” anthem, the weight of past oppression remains palpable for Emil and many pioneering gay bikers.
ECMC’s history mirrors a Forrest Gump-esque journey through post-1950s gay history. Emil himself was a member of the Mattachine Society, a pioneering gay rights organization founded in 1950. ECMC predates the pivotal Stonewall Riots of 1969. Emil participated in the Christopher Street Liberation Day in 1970, now recognized as the first gay pride parade. ECMC weathered the AIDS crisis of the 80s and 90s. Today, some members have legally married their partners following the legalization of same-sex marriage in New York State. The ECMC’s journey reflects the broader struggles and triumphs of the gay community.
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“In the 70s, you lived a compartmentalized life,” Chaz explained. “Monday to Friday was a conventional, closeted existence, not truly authentic. Weekends were for connecting with friends, going to bars, club runs, and being with like-minded people. It was the only time to truly be yourself. Clubs became vital social outlets, the Facebook of their time.” For gay bikers in the past, clubs like ECMC provided crucial spaces for self-expression and community.
Today, ECMC is openly visible. Members proudly wear their leather jackets and vests, free from fear of repercussions. They recruit at events like Folsom Street East, the largest outdoor fetish festival on the East Coast, and hold monthly meetings at The Center, open to all interested men and prospective members. This openness is a testament to the progress made by the gay biker community and society at large.
Empire City MC members taking a break during a ride, showcasing the camaraderie among gay bikers.
To join ECMC, one must be a gay man over 21, own a motorcycle, possess motorcycle insurance, and have a motorcycle license. Full membership, with fewer event attendance requirements than associate membership, requires living within a 50-mile radius of Columbus Circle. Qualified applicants can apply. The requirements ensure a serious commitment to riding and community among ECMC’s gay bikers.
The application process includes attending a general meeting and an official club ride, securing sponsorship from two full members, and undergoing a pledge period of three to six months. Pledges familiarize themselves with ECMC members, events, rides, meetings, and the 22-page constitution and bylaws. Membership is then decided by vote. These rigorous standards are key to maintaining the club’s values and longevity.
This strict structure is undoubtedly a cornerstone of ECMC’s longevity. High standards of responsibility and brotherhood have always been upheld. “We are not fair-weather friends. Our vetting process ensures good character,” Chaz emphasized. “We want to be there for them, and ensure they’re there for us. It’s reciprocal—we are a family.” This emphasis on mutual support and lasting bonds defines the ECMC gay biker family.
The essence of this brotherhood is best experienced on a ride with them.
One Sunday morning in April, ECMC members gathered at Lexington Candy Shop, a regular pre-ride meeting point. The waitress, familiar with them, greeted them by name, knowing their orders by heart. I joined Chaz on his 2004 Yamaha Road Star. Outside, a symphony of carburetors roared to life. Helmets were secured, leather jackets zipped up. The shared ritual of preparing for a ride strengthens the bonds between these gay bikers.
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This particular ride was a smaller group—Chaz, Eddie, Mark, Joe, Geno, and Aaron, an ECMC pledge (now a full member). For some, it was the season’s inaugural ride. Bikes were awakened from winter storage, muscles re-acquainted with clutches, faces adjusting to the cold wind. Geno, the Road Captain, led the way, with Chaz as the safety tail, protecting the group from traffic, ensuring safe lane changes and turns. The unwavering goal is to remain together, both on and off their bikes. The ride itself is a powerful expression of gay biker solidarity.
As we rode north on the West Side Highway, it became clear. Motorcycling is inherently risky. Placing your trust in others to ensure your safety, to ride responsibly, to essentially hold your life in their hands, fosters an intense closeness when that trust is meticulously honored. I felt the wind, and an involuntary smile spread across my face. The liberating openness of riding a bike makes the inherent danger worthwhile. Sharing this experience with a group, even for a single day, cultivates camaraderie and community. Imagine the depth of those bonds after years of riding together. Motorcycles may be the foundation of Empire City, but its soul resides in its people, in the enduring community and family they have built over five decades. The shared passion for riding and the deep brotherhood are the heart of the Empire City gay bikers.
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