All photos by Sean Maung.
Club Tempo has lived in the corner of an East Hollywood strip mall since 1991, blasting the beat of banda long after its neighbors close for the night. The laughter and music float out into the parking lot until they reach a group of taqueros awaiting the club’s drunk and hungry patrons.
Tempo’s weekly “Vaquero Nights” solidified the club’s reputation as a safe, lively space for L.A.’s queer Latino community to meet new people, dance to songs not played in other clubs, and express all facets of themselves without judgment.
“You go to a straight club, you can be welcomed there, too, but it’s not like you are being surrounded by the people of your own community,” Miguel Vallejo, who has worked at Club Tempo for over 20 years, tells L.A. TACO. “Because we have vaqueros here, you can be yourself because there are some vaqueros that like to use makeup, nail polish—they cannot really go out to a straight club like that because they’re gonna get looked [at].”
On the night of Club Tempo’s 35th anniversary party, the sort of energy that makes you vibrate with excitement rocketed across both floors of the club. On the first floor, a live banda, whose outfits sparkled beneath the stage lights, played ranchera music. Couples embraced and swung to the beat together, the many botas moving swiftly across the floor.
Upstairs, the outdoor patio hosted photographer Sean Maung’s setup for the night, where he captured portraits again for L.A. TACO, six years later. In 2018, Maung created a candid, intimate photo essay documenting Vaquero Night, showcasing patrons’ plaid and paisley button-downs, embossed belt buckles, and even matching outfits.
The dining area on the other side of the patio sold comforting meals like menudo and tacos de canasta for anyone needing to balance their liquor intake. Stools and benches around the perimeter offered everybody a break from the rush of watching the go-go dancers and drag performances inside the club. Cigarette smoke and chatter filled the air as partygoers caught up with one another or made out, like one couple in the corner under their Tejano hats.
“La verdad es que me siento muy contento [aquí]. Es mi lugar favorito,” Enrique Garcia, a Club Tempo regular for the past 35 years, tells L.A. TACO. (The truth is that I feel really happy [here]. It is my favorite place.)
Garcia says that the club has changed over the years for the younger crowd, but it remains his “lugar preferido” (preferred place).
Another attendee, Dior, says she started going to Club Tempo in 2018 and returns every weekend because of the community. Originally from the Philippines, Dior says that she started wearing makeup and women’s clothes in Las Vegas.
“There’s a lot of nice people here [at Club Tempo]; they’re going to treat you like [you’re] special, like a girl, like who you are,” Dior tells us.
Lorenzo Herrera Garcia came to the party with his husband, whom he met at Club Tempo 18 years ago. The couple used to visit the club three times a week at what they believed was its height, when it brought more live bands and fewer DJs, he says. Herrera Garcia says they still visit every weekend, but ICE’s presence has affected the club community.
Vallejo says the most fulfilling part of his role has been helping people out, offering opportunities like bartender jobs to people who may have been “stuck” somewhere else. Club attendance has diminished since the pandemic, he says. He also attributed this loss to ongoing ICE raids, the prevalence of dating apps, and younger generations’ tendency to stay home rather than go out.
Despite internal changes accepted by the Club Tempo community and external fears related to ICE’s ongoing siege, this 35-year-old club remains an essential pillar for the queer vaqueros, Spanish-speaking LGBTQ+ community, and partygoers who have called the place home for nearly four decades.
Happy birthday, Tempo!
Club Tempo ~ 5520 Santa Monica Blvd. Los Angeles, CA 90038
