December 11, 2004 @ 9:41 am

Online Exclusive: Diary From Bishop Don Magic Juan's Players' Ball

by: Will Okun

Everyone from Snoop Dogg to David Banner have laid claim to pimping, but how many of us really know what real pimping is? Well, lucky for you Vibe Online’s contributing photographer, Will Okun, followed the players, pimps and honeys around at Arch Bishop Don Magic Juan’s annual birthday party and Players’ Ball this year. In addition to a revealing rundown of the evening’s adventure, he has pictures that add more than color to America’s pastime.

The dapper doormen at the 212 Club in downtown Chicago eyed me dubiously: no full-length fur coat, no chalice, no Big Mac stack of bills, no ho, no entry! Well, how about these two V.I.P. tickets for the Arch Bishop Don Magic Juan's Annual Birthday and Players' Ball, will these work? Don't these suckers recognize V.I.P. when they see it? (Actually, I used to coach the Bishop's son in basketball and Lil Mac gave me the tickets) What about the other ticket, where's your date? It's true, I have no date, but on this night, there is a good reason. In past years, the pimps misinterpreted my razor sharp dress as that of a fellow pimp and thus approached my date as just another ho. Talk about an awkward first date. But it is an easy mistake to make, virtually all the attendees at Don Magic Juan's party are pimps and hos. Not Halloween pimps and hos acting funny at fraternity bars in the Midwest, but real street pimps and real street hos. In past years, the Players' Ball was held in the dingy, yet expansive East of the Ryan Club which was still furnished from the club's heyday in the 1960's, when pimping was still truly pimping. But for this event, the atmosphere was perfect. Pimps representing all of the major cities (Milwaukee definitely in the house) flocked to the Ryan to not only celebrate the birthday of the game's acknowledged #1 pimp, but also to talk shop, take photos, show-off clothes, and parade their hos. Oh, those hos: black, white, Puerto Rican and Haitian. Beautiful, ugly, young, old, laughing, miserable, glowing, drug-addicted, stunning bodies, opposite of stunning bodies, every type of female you can imagine. But what the hos did have in common was that their outfits were color-coordinated with their pimps, so there was no mistaking whose property was whose. And just to further clarify, a handful of old-school pimps made their females walk in trains, which is a line of hos that follows the pimps everywhere he goes. Their forehead goes into the back of the ho in front of them and they spend an entire evening just shuffling along, never looking left nor right. As for the pimps, CCCHHHUUUCCCHHHH! Always dressed in flamboyant vibrant suits, offset only by the subtlety of head to toe fur. Animal activists, they are not. Throw in a pair of matching glasses or sunglasses and the patent gators and you got yourself a fit. But hold up, you have got to have a chalice, what? Look it up. Photographers were everywhere, flashes popping. "Drinks in the airÂ….(R. Kelly)" and so many blunts that everyone was hazed, whether they were smoking or not. The music was banging, a soundtrack of Snoop, R. Kelly, J.B. and Parliament. Of course, there was a V.I.P. room with a fried food buffet and hard porn on the television sets. The whole night was just chaos, like the Dominican Republic. It felt like a lawless society that could just explode with craziness and energy at any given moment. Any type of activity could be happening anywhere at anytime, by the end of the night, you were exhaustedly sweating like a long-distance runner. Except that you were high and drunk and dancing with pimps and hos. But, alas, this year the Players' Ball went upscale like a 30-year-old rapper who used to be hardcore. This year's location, the 212 Club was too small, too exquisite, too clean, too downtown. There was room for only one portrait photographer to craft his art, as opposed to the usual six or seven who set-up backdrops in past years. The place was crowded with too many observers, not enough participants. A line formed outside the club and a number of Cadillac pimps turned around and headed for locations elsewhere. Other pimps braved the claustrophobic sauna to salute the Bishop but left soon afterward into the Chicago ice night. It was too crowded even for a dance floor. The highlight of the night is still the awards ceremony where the Arch Bishop Don Magic Juan presents trophies in such categories as Most Improved Pimp, Best Female Pimp, Best Ho, Up and Coming Pimp, and the coveted Most Valuable Pimp (awarded to Pimp Jo Jo). Needless to say, the acceptance speeches are incredible. But all in all, this night was too tame, too lawful to be as exciting or as memorable as past years. Has pimping become legit, too mainstream? Of course, don't listen to me, I went to bed at 4:00 a.m., thirty minutes before the after party (i.e. the real party) began. To view Will Okun's pictures from this year's Players Ball, CLICK HERE

Article tags: Online, Exclusive, Diary, Bishop, Don, Magic, Juan's, Players, Ball 

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