The original Then & Now: Twilight Zone article was published October 5, 2011 and was second in the web series originally developed for The GridTO.com. As the Then & Now series expanded in reach, so too did the length of each story and number of participants who contributed to each. This expanded history of the Zone was written in March 2015, and was exclusively available in the Then & Now book until this time.

Trailblazing 1980s nightclub Twilight Zone brought diverse crowds and sounds to Toronto’s Entertainment District long before such a designation even existed. Those who were there lovingly explore its lasting legacy.

By: DENISE BENSON

Club: Twilight Zone, 185 Richmond Street W.

Years in operation: 1980 – 1989

History: Long before the Entertainment District was awash in condos, clubs, and restaurants—back when the area was still largely non-residential and known as the garment district—four brothers opened a venue that ultimately influenced the neighbourhood’s development.

Tony, Albert, David, and Michael Assoon forever altered Toronto’s dance club nightscape with their Twilight Zone, but that venue’s reach was rooted in earlier efforts. The Assoon family moved from New York to Toronto in the 1970s. During their high school years in Scarborough, the music-savvy siblings produced events in school spaces.

“That was back in the day, when Soul Train was on, and we wanted to have something that was more in our culture,” describes Tony Assoon. “We decided to have the first soul party ever in Toronto. It was funk music, a little bit of disco, and so forth. That’s how we started.”

Assoon says they produced a few successful parties, and the idea spread to other high schools before the brothers all graduated. Tony moved back to New York during the height of the disco days.

“I was a club hound,” he laughs during our lengthy conversation. “I went to all kinds of places, like the Commodore Hotel, Night Owl, The Great Gatsby, Paradise Garage, The Loft, and Milky Way.

“One of the clubs that I hung out at a lot, that really influenced me, was called Melons. It was on the top floor of a loft and was a roller skating rink in the daytime. A legendary DJ called Tee Scott played there. Later, Larry Levan and Frankie Knuckles also played.”

Assoon brought his knowledge and love of New York clubs, style, and music with him when his parents requested that he return to Toronto. He mentions checking our ’70s disco hotspots like Heavens, Checkers, and Mrs. Nights, but landing a job at the Yonge and Bloor Le Chateau clothing store, conveniently located next to a modeling agency, connected him with a different crowd.

“We all loved fashion,” says Tony. “At that time, the whole new wave look was in so we’d dress freaky.”

The Assoons began to do parties at places like The Ports, on Yonge near Summerhill, and in a building on Sherbourne.

“They were great promoters,” says friend Charmaine Gooden of the brothers. She first met them at The Ports, then spent lots of time listening to music with the Assoons and other friends, and attended their early events.

“They started renting rec rooms in apartment buildings to have parties. These were well attended by a diverse, mixed-up crowd—older, younger, money, and fashion. Part of the fun was dressing up. [People came] from Forest Hill, Regent Park, the suburbs, and Scar- borough, so it was varied.”

Through the apartment parties, the Assoons built a solid following and set out to find larger, more secluded spaces.

“We first experimented at 666 King West in September of 1979,” recalls Albert Assoon. “We had to move from there quickly because dust started pouring out of the ceiling from the vibration of the bass. We went on the prowl and eventually wound up at 185 Richmond West. We sought these locations because they were in areas where we wouldn’t get noise complaints or disturb residents.”

“It was desolate,” says Tony of the Richmond and Simcoe area where the Assoons, along with close friends Bromely Vassell and Luis Collaco, launched the Twilight Zone in January of 1980. “It was just industry and factory buildings. Everyone thought we were kind of crazy for moving there, and into a warehouse, but I was used to seeing things like that in New York, so it didn’t seem to be a big deal.”

Soon, crowds would come from far and wide to attend this magical late-night place where the mix of people was as eclectic as the music they were treated to.

David Assoon at the Zone entry. Photo by Theodora Kali.

Why it was important: Twilight Zone was an unlicensed after-hours club where the Assoons could let their imaginations run free. The 8,000-square-foot space held more than 1,000 people. It was a rectangular room with a huge wooden dance floor, juice bar, unisex washrooms, and a side lounge for chilling. Tall dark pillars lined the main space.

“You went up three flights of narrow, rickety wooden stairs to the ticket booth and then into a massive room, which was all black,” describes Gooden. “Everything was black. Period. I remember painting a woman morphing into a stiletto on the wall in the lounge area; the whole space was a kind of canvas for creatives. Those guys would let you try out your ideas.”

Twilight Zone was a hub for creative people and colliding influences. Where most other dance clubs tended to be known for a particular sound, the Zone embraced the electrifying collage that was the 1980s. Local and international DJs played disco, funk, punk, electro, hip-hop, new wave, house, and more over the years. There was very little division between sounds that emerged from distinctly different undergrounds.

“You could be playing house and drop in a new wave song; people were right into it,” reminds Tony Assoon. “It almost all started during the same era.”

Twilight Zone regulars dancing. Still from Back to the Zone, courtesy of Colm Hogan.

At Twilight Zone, it could all be heard through a stunning soundsystem. From the club’s start, sound was important. A system rented from Sunshine Sound kicked things off nicely, but it was in the Zone’s second year that a state-of-the-art soundsystem designed by New York’s Richard Long was installed.

“I was used to hearing a certain kind of sound in New York,” explains Tony Assoon of the impetus. “The thing that couldn’t be reproduced was a certain kind of bass. I took my brothers to Paradise Garage, and my brother Michael partied with me a lot at Melons. I told them, ‘Remember that soundsystem? I know the guy and want to put the same system in here.’ They told me to get a price; I think it was about $100,000 U.S. It was a lot of money. At first my brothers said, ‘No, it’s too much,’ but I insisted. We had to close the club for two weeks, and it took a lot of work. We had to spray and insulate the club, and then they got all the speakers and put everything in.

“When we re-opened, it was slow. All the guys looked at me, like, ‘You and your big ideas.’ I said, ‘Give it some time.’ The first group of people came in, heard the system, and didn’t know what to think. The next week, the crowd doubled because everyone started buzzing about the sound. After that, it was all history. People couldn’t believe what they were hearing.”

“When they put in the Richard Long system, the Zone changed forever,” states DJ Dave Campbell, a Zone regular from the time he was a teen. “The bass could regulate your heartbeat, and because the floor was wood, you couldn’t help but dance.

“You could hear the sound from University and Richmond,” Campbell adds. “People would ask, ‘Where is Twilight located?’ I would tell them, ‘Head west of University on Richmond, look for the amber flashing light, and listen.’”

“The sound was like a dream,” agrees Gooden. “Once you’ve listened to music on those amazing speakers, no one can fool you.”

Sound designer Richard Long (left) with associate Roger Goodman. Photo courtesy of Albert Assoon.

At its core, Twilight Zone was about the music played through that bumping system by its adventurous resident DJs. Weekend nights were divergent yet complementary.

Don Cochrane held down Fridays for most of the Zone’s existence. He first attended the club just weeks after it had opened. Cochrane and a large group of friends “outnumbered the people there” but enjoyed the funky grooves of DJ Albert Assoon. Cochrane and Assoon talked tunes.

“We agreed to meet mid-week for him to hear my UK dance sounds,” says Scottish-born Cochrane. “He and his brothers listened. I got an immediate offer to play the following Friday.”

UK Dance Floor ran Fridays from 11 p.m. to 7 a.m. or later, with Cochrane blending new wave and other dancefloor-friendly sounds then-bubbling in the UK with funk, Chicago house, Italo house, German industrial, world beat, and “wild cards.”

Cochrane’s playlist of anthems included the likes of Endgames “First Last for Everything,” Kate Bush “Running Up That Hill,” Bobby Konders “House Rhythms,” Blondie “Rapture,” Bohannan “Let’s Start the Dance,” Jimmy Bo Horne “Spank,” Rocker’s Revenge “Walking on Sunshine,” A Guy Called Gerald “Voodoo Ray,” Liquid Liquid “Cavern,” and “anything James Brown, George Clinton, or Funkadelic.”

He also, of course, featured a hefty dose of UK acts like The Smiths, New Order, Depeche Mode, Talk Talk, Human League, and Bronski Beat, but broke ground when he played them.

“They were ‘retail’ hits, but we had them first—by months, sometimes even a year—as I had them imported,” Cochrane emphasizes. “I did the same for the German industrial dance bands such as Nitzer Ebb. CFNY would come to the booth and monitor my playlist. I got a great kick out of breaking new records—and even sounds.”

“Fridays were the big alternative dance night,” confirms Albert Assoon. “UK Dance Floor featured the new wave you would hear on CFNY, however you heard it first at Twilight Zone. Don was pretty ahead of the music trends abroad and delivered on the dance floor. He would also come party on Saturdays and pick songs he’d then incorporate, giving Fridays more edge than anywhere!

“On Saturdays, the combination of myself and brother Tony was also pretty awesome,” Albert states. “Tony, who had returned to NYC as a teen, came back and would school us all on underground disco. He knew his music and screaming divas very well, and mesmerized the dancefloor with a cappellas on top of stuff. I observed Tony and Don, and came up with my own style, playing mostly funk, freestyle, a bit of new wave, and more.”

Tony mentions a few of his Saturday Zone classics, including D-Train “You’re the One For Me,” First Choice featuring Rochelle Fleming “Let No Man Put Asunder,” and Fonda Rae “Touch Me,” but also makes clear that reggae, early hip-hop, and all sorts of sounds were in the mix.

“We loved playing it all,” Tony emphasizes. “Human League, Thompson Twins, and all the other English groups you could think of were a given. You weren’t a DJ unless you played all of those.”

“I loved it when Albert or Tony would rush up to the booth on Fridays and say, ‘What the fuck is that?’” says Cochrane of the musical interplay. “I would do the same on Saturdays. It was such a mutually beneficial environment that manifested a unique global sound on both nights.

“The Assoons were bold, true to their vision, honest, and pioneers,” he praises. “They were a tight family, and a family who embraced me. Also, [Tony and Albert were] two brilliant DJs.”

Thanks to the Assoons’ vision, the Zone is fondly remembered as Toronto’s first home of garage and house, especially as the music’s bricklayers became imported guests.

David Morales (L) and Tony Assoon in the Zone DJ booth. Photo courtesy of Albert Assoon.

David Morales (L) and Dave Del Du Valle a.k.a. David Delvalle. Photo courtesy of Albert Assoon.

“Twilight Zone started off the tradition of bringing international DJs on Saturdays, beginning with DJ Kenny Carpenter, David Morales, Frankie Knuckles, Dave ‘Madness’ Du Valle—all from NYC—and Jay Armstrong from Ministry in the UK,” says Albert. “All the DJs offered a different sound and melted the crowd.”

These connections were largely fostered as Tony Assoon bounced back to New York often to buy music, go to clubs, and hear DJs.

“I was always the type of guy that if I heard a DJ and they sounded good, I’d say, ‘Hey, how would you like to play?’ In those days, DJs were hungry. They would jump to come to Canada.”

Kenny Carpenter was one of the first booked, followed by DJ/producer Johnny Dynell of NYC clubs like Danceteria, The Roxy, and Save the Robots. Dynell suggested the Assoons book a then-up-and-comer named David Morales, which led to repeat visits by the Def Mix master. Morales and Du Valle were frequent guests, sometimes even spinning together, as was Frankie Knuckles. Detroit’s Derrick May and Alton Miller often made the drive to party at the Zone, and both played on occasion.

“Derrick May played a couple of times, but he was a little too advanced,” recalls Tony. “Derrick was playing and making techno long before people knew what techno was.”

Without a doubt, the music heard at Twilight Zone influenced a generation of Toronto house DJs and producers, not to mention a whole host of warehouse party promoters. People like Aki Abe, Dino & Terry, Mitch Winthrop, Yogi Patel, and Nick Holder were regulars.

“Nick lived by the DJ booth,” says Tony of Holder, one of Toronto’s global house ambassadors. “The Zone was a big influence on him because he saw David Morales, Frankie Knuckles, and so on. I think he played a couple of times. Dave Campbell also got put on every now and then.”

Campbell may have DJed at the Zone in the club’s later years, but it took some doing for him and a group of high school friends to pass through its doors. Saturday nights were so busy that staff was selective.

“We were turned away the first few times we attempted to get into the club,” Campbell shares. “We didn’t quite meet the standards of Saturday’s cool, fashion-conscious clientele, so we decided to go on a Friday, as they weren’t as strict at the door. At the time, I was into new wave music and loved CFNY. Some of the music played on Fridays would cross over to Saturdays, like Yazoo, Fad Gadget, Yello, and other tracks, along with the pre-house anthems. We got to know some of the staff, like Bromely at the door, and were finally able to get in on a Saturday.”

Flash-forward a few years, and Campbell had moved downtown, begun to DJ, and was invited to fill in for Tony on occasion.

“The first Saturday night I played, I was very nervous, but it turned out to be one of the most amazing nights of my DJing career. It was surreal playing on that system. It had three turntables, a pitchable cassette player, and a reel-to-reel. When Frankie Knuckles played, he used the reel player to blend in his own special mixes of stuff he produced, like his mix of Chaka Khan’s ‘Ain’t Nobody.’ David Morales used it to play his mix of Whitney Houston’s ‘Love Will Save The Day.’ Dave Du Valle seamlessly worked all three decks at once. He was amazing.

“But what made the Zone so amazing to me, besides the music, was the eclectic mix of people, with white, black, gay, and straight all partying in one space,” says Campbell. “It was like nothing I had experienced before, including the unisex bathroom.”

Twilight Zone was the place to be, with large, diverse, and creative crowds dancing ’til dawn week after week.

Gooden, who attended regularly for most of the club’s nine-year history (“Always from after 2 a.m. ’til close”), encapsulates the experience. “It was the kind of place that was so overwhelming, a kind of free style, with people dancing all over the place. It gave waspy, stuffy, uptight Torontonians a release valve where people could just be bohemian and extravagant.

“The Zone was a mix of black, white, Asian, old, young, hipster, fashion-trendy, new wavers, break dancers, young punks, skinheads, and Scarborough secretaries in their outfits. You had the Scarborough blacks, Charles and Church Street gays, Queen West alternatives, and people from Whitby to Etobicoke. Those years at the Twilight Zone were like a cauldron with all the people who got mashed together.”

“It was a weird era when everyone got along,” comments Tony. “All the people who listened to house music started showing up on the new wave nights, so you’d see somebody in a suit dancing next to somebody with a Mohawk or somebody who was a skinhead. Half of those kids didn’t even know why they were wearing Nazi flags in the back. They’d be dancing with everybody; if they were that prejudiced, they wouldn’t have been there, dancing beside somebody black or somebody Jewish or gay. Everything was more for fashion than it was for a reason.”

“It was unique and without aggro,” agrees Cochrane; “They came for the music.” This was also true on Pariah Wednesdays, which ran in the early through mid-’80s.

“Wednesdays were more underground,” describes Tony; “Pariah catered to the more punk kind of crowd.”

Pariah had its roots in the downtown arts and music scene. Toronto club veteran Lynn McNeil had launched the night with DJ Siobhan O’Flynn at Club Kongos (later Club Focus) on Hagerman Street. The two met when O’Flynn DJed in The Rivoli’s back room for L Squared, an influential event promoted by The Katherine with DJs Richard Vermeulen and Pam Barnes. (“To my knowledge, Pam was the first woman DJ in Toronto, and I was the second,” says O’Flynn.)

After about a year at Kongos, Pariah moved to Wednesdays at Twilight Zone, with O’Flynn joined by DJ Stephen Scott.

“Coming out of Hagerman, the music at Pariah was a mix of punk, disco, old funk, and the start of the early ’80s Brit scene,” she describes. “We played The Fall, Wire, early Stone Roses, and American punk and post punk, like Television.

“Pariah would have been the first place I played Sisters of Mercy ‘Gimme Shelter.’ I still re- member that song on that soundsystem was damn impressive. It was just so immersive to experience vinyl records played on such a stupendous soundsystem. You just felt it. Being able to listen to PIL, Joy Division, and the big orchestral Sisters of Mercy sound in a room with perfectly EQ’d sound was incredible.”

Hundreds came out between 10 p.m. and 5 a.m. each Wednesday. “You had to be pretty committed,” comments O’Flynn; “You weren’t holding down a job that you had to be at at nine in the morning. Pariah started with a very strong foot in the emerging counter-culture punk scene. There was also a whole group of underage alternative school kids. The club scene or bar scene was just starting to take off, so we’d get that after-hours crowd, and Goths.

“Broadly, it was hungry alternative music fans, which is why people were so open to really diverse genres of music. I know that a lot of people came to the club specifically to be introduced to new music. Both Stephen and I were avid consumers of tracking what was new, reading NME [New Musical Express], and buying imports.”

In addition, O’Flynn redecorated Twilight Zone’s interior every few months (“I’d source out non-flammable materials that you could have in environments where people were behaving chaotically”), and booked in local indie bands of the time, like Change of Heart and Groovy Religion.

“There really weren’t that many places you could go out and hear the music we featured,” recalls O’Flynn. “For the Assoons to let us have our night in their club was always kind of amazing.”

Twilight Zone interior. Photo courtesy of Albert Assoon.

Who else played/worked there: “I love that for a lot of high school kids, the Zone was their first memory of a club,” says Tony. “We’d open up early for them, and then close. They’d want to stay, but we had to say, ‘No, you’re not 16.’ We were all-ages, but you had to be 16 to stay after hours.”

One night that stands out for its early-evening crowds was when the Assoons brought New York’s Dynamic Breakdancers in for a show.

“That was around the time that Herbie Hancock came out with ‘Rockit’,” Tony recollects. “We packed that club from six in the evening until 1 a.m.. They did maybe four shows. People just kept coming; they wanted to see what this breakdancing was all about.”

Further proving the brothers had their fingers on the pulse of multiple musical movements, the Zone also featured performances by artists as diverse as D-Train, Divine, Sharon Redd, Joycelyn Brown, Jermaine Stewart, Prince Charles, Anne Clark, The Spoons, and The System.

“One year, we had an anniversary party without any acts booked,” adds Tony. “I happened to see Eartha Kitt crossing the street and called out, ‘Eartha Kitt?’ She said, ‘That’s me.’ I said, ‘I would love for you to come and sing. We have no act tonight. Tell me what you want, and we’ll work something out.’ Her response was, ‘I want two things: a cold bottle of champagne and a champagne glass.’ She came on stage, sang ‘Where Is My Man,’ and had so much class. Amazing.”

Fashion Show at Twilight Zone. Photo courtesy of Albert Assoon.

Albert recalls a visit by a certain New York hip-hop trio. “We had the Beastie Boys in. They went on a rampage and graffitied the club. We had just sanded the area and it wasn’t painted, so we decided to leave it as part of the decor.”

O’Flynn also remembers that eve, and laughs as she shares an anecdote. “It was probably 1982 and the Beastie Boys were at the club. They wanted to spin, and I said no. I kicked them out of the DJ booth. To this day, I can’t believe I did that.” (Post Pariah, she went on to play plenty of speaks and clubs, including Domino, Dance Cave, RPM, Nuts & Bolts, the Bovine, Phoenix, and Left Bank. O’Flynn is now a professor and consultant who teaches digital media at the University of Toronto.)

A variety of other DJs spent time in Twilight Zone’s DJ booth over the years.

“The Zone’s music was unique,” summarizes DJ and radio producer Scot Turner, who went by Skot during his eight years as a programmer and host at pioneering alternative radio station CFNY 102.1FM. He went to the Zone often enough to appreciate its musical mix, and to support it with on-air mentions.

“Their reputation was for house music, but also for their openness to alternative, which they were not afraid to embrace and showcase. Anyone with a love of dance music and vibe was welcome.”

Turner, in fact, DJed a Thursday night called Swoon for a short stretch. “The music format was intentionally non-bass and beat, with lots of jangly guitar. It was art rock and pop—The Smiths, Cure, REM, Violent Femmes, Prefab Sprout, Lloyd Cole, and the like.“

Skot / Scot Turner at Twilight Zone. Photo courtesy of him.

Turner also DJed at venues like Club Z, Club Focus, Empire Dancebar, RPM, and Joker over the years, and would go on to help launch Energy 108 (“The first true all-dance music station in North America”). He appreciated Twilight Zone for many reasons.

“It was bare bones, but the soundsystem was first rate. It was what proper club sound should be: very loud, without hurting your ears, and with bass that you feel in your chest. It was not licensed, so the music came first. Without the distractions of alcohol and ‘picking up,’ it attracted a more purist music crowd. (Turner is now Brand Director for two Kitchener radio stations and contributes to The Spirit Of Radio web page at Edge.ca.)

There were also attempts made to have a dedicated gay Sunday, with DJs such as Barry Harris, Paul Grace, and Stages’ resident Greg Howlett. Tony admits it never took off, and the reason he provides is a reminder of the division that existed even in more tolerant and mixed spaces.

“When AIDS happened, that made a huge difference in who would go where. People started thinking in stereotypes, and stuff like, ‘If I touch somebody gay, I’m going to get AIDS.’ People could be very discriminatory. Meanwhile, I was still going to gay bars, trying to book DJs. I went to a gay club—The Roxy—to book Frankie Knuckles. I had so many friends who were gay that I didn’t pay that kind of stuff attention. I really wanted that crowd to be part of my crowd. Nobody enjoys music more than a gay crowd; those were the guys who brought satisfaction to my turntables.”

While the Sundays never came together, there’s no question that communities did on other nights at the Zone. Throughout the club’s history, artists, performers, and the fashion-forward were a part of its core crowd. Actors and hockey players were also in the mix.

“Patrick Cox, the designer, came there a lot,” says Tony. “So did Wayne Gretzky, Mario Van Peebles, and Grandmaster Flash.”

“At The Twilight Zone, you had Kenneth Cole, Suzanne Boyd, Michael Griffiths, the Soho designers, Dean and Dan of Dsquared, and other local artists who were regulars,” adds Albert. “Many greats met up and fully expressed themselves with their look and attitudes!”

The highly fashionable Charmaine Gooden also mentions many fellow regulars. “Donna Boyd was a presence; when she danced, it was like there was a spotlight on her. She held her body, singing, acting, and living out the song. She was just so glamorous and had a smouldering personality. We gave some of our favourite regulars nicknames: There was Richard ‘National Ballet,’ Suzie Horton was ‘Jacket and Panty Hose,’ Tony and Basil Young were like the Nicholas Brothers. Ronald Holmes, who worked the bar, was from New York and a one-man dance squad. People gathered around him to learn his particular style.

“Some people never went to church, but they were at the Zone every Sunday morning,” elucidates Gooden. “For some, it was a spiritual experience. The music on Saturday was also very based in gospel.”

Fashion Show at Twilight Zone. Photo courtesy of Albert Assoon.

Zone regulars at a costume party. Photo courtesy of Albert Assoon.

The aforementioned Tony Young, later known as MuchMusic host Master T, was frequently found on the dance floor, as was Michele Geister, who co-founded and produced MuchMusic’s RapCity program. Photographer Michael Chambers was another regular, as was Tom Davis, who later booked the Cameron House and now owns The Stockyards restaurant. Others mentioned by interviewees include Lyndon Hector; Norbert Ricafort; Ford Medina; Marla Rotenberg; makeup artist Danny Morrow; clothing designer Ian Hylton; Raymond Perkins, who ran The Dub Club at the time and went on to work as Director of Culture at Roots; and Aaron Serruya, who produced his first party at Twilight Zone and is now co-owner of both Yogen Früz and Red Nightclub. Darryl Fine, now co-owner of the Bovine, was a regular who sometimes tended bar.

There were a lot of dedicated staffers. Some include original Zone investors Luis Collaco and Bromley Vassell, who went on to do lights and door, respectively. Gerald Ash and Lino Santos were core bussers for years, while Chris Arthur worked the door and more. Dave Campbell also mentions host Ted Aman, and Lisa McCleary, who worked in the Night Gallery, below Twilight Zone.

“We took over space on the ground floor and opened a café called Night Gallery in 1984,” explains Albert. “We offered a free buffet with the $10 admission, and it was generous. I swear some people came just to eat.”

The Assoons’ father was the main Night Gallery chef. Sometimes there was music in that space as well.

“Twilight Zone was my first official club gig,” says Derek Perkins, who took over Fridays after Don Cochrane left to pursue his career at Ogilvy One in 1987 (Cochrane shares that he went on to launch the Air Miles program and now works in the airline industry).

Perkins “started playing alt and classic rock downstairs in the Night Gallery. At that time, there was no alt format on any nights upstairs. Within two to three weeks, the room reached capacity and the Assoons gave me Friday night in the Zone.”

Other DJs who played occasional Fridays included Larry St. Aubin (aka Larry Saint), Ivan Palmer, Michael X, Avery Tanner, and James Stewart, but Perkins was the main resident. Fridays became known as The Darkside. Perkins also came to play on Wednesdays.

“Prior to working there, I was a huge fan of Pariah and of DJ Siobhan,” he credits. “She was a huge influence on the style I later adopted, mixing classic rock and funk with alternative.”

He namedrops personal anthems by the likes of Patti Smith, Aerosmith, Love and Rockets, Felt, and The Demics, but he also “included artists such as Boney M, Blondie, Man Parrish, Grandmaster Flash, George Kranz, and other beat-centric stuff so some of the dance crowd would stay. They mixed in pretty well with the freakier late-nighters.”

Perkins also shares a vivid, sensorial memory.

“There was a smell like no other place I’ve ever encountered. The best I can figure is that it was a mix of French Formula hairspray, cologne, perfume, hashish, coco puffs, coconut fog fluid, stale booze, and bathroom odour. It was an oddly intoxicating smell.”

He was the last alt DJ to play at the Zone and was there until the club’s demise.

“The crowds would go up and down as more competition came to the area, but there were almost always enough people to make it viable,” says Perkins, who went on to play clubs including Nuts & Bolts, Freak Show, Empire, The Copa, Whiskey Saigon, Klub Max, and Zoo Bar. (He then ran creative departments for multiple radio stations, and now markets luxury real estate.)

What happened to it: “Near the end of the Zone’s run, the crowd had become younger,” says Dave Campbell. “It seemed that the sanctuary had changed. There was no more Celestial Choir ‘Stand On The Word’ or Lonnie Liston Smith ‘Expansions’ played as the Sunday morning sunlight came through the window. We had lost our church.” (Campbell went on to play a range of clubs, including The Copa, The Diamond, and Roxy Blu. He now runs his own DJing service, is the Friday resident at The Citizen on King West, and plays parties including What It Is! and Twilight Zone reunions.)

The Zone’s crowds may have shifted in its final years, but they still filled the club. The venue closed in early 1989 because the Assoons’ lease had expired and the building’s owner sold the property. It became a parking lot.

“We would have bought the building,” says Albert; “However, despite our successes, the banks would never finance us with anything—except the one time my father put up his house for us to buy Twilight Zone’s soundsystem. We had to sign a waiver where our unborn children would have to pay if we defaulted. That loan was paid on time and in full, but they would not agree with our vision.”

Twilight Zone came to a close soon after a February party that featured David Morales. People still speak of the club—and the communities it brought together—with deep appreciation.

“The Zone was like a club in the real sense; everybody felt they were part of the club,” says Gooden. “When you saw an ex-Zoner elsewhere, you had a connection. To this day, Zoners are still a sub culture.” (She is now a magazine editor and Professor in the School of Fashion at both Ryerson University and Seneca College.)

The Assoons—also the visionaries who, in 1984, thought to open Fresh Restaurant and Nightclub at 132 Queens Quay E., which was ousted a year later to make way for RPM (The Guvernment later held the address)—went on to open Gotham City Bar and Grill at 81 Bloor St. E. in 1990. Rent was too high for them to make a long term go of it.

Albert and Michael Assoon went on to be deeply involved in late ’90s house haven The Living Room, while Tony moved back to NYC, where he continues to enjoy clubs and music, and works for New York Life. Albert, Michael, and David Assoon now own versatile event space Remix Lounge at 1305 Dundas West.

After more than 20 years of existence as a parking lot, the ground where Twilight Zone once stood has been swallowed into the 199 Richmond West address of the Studio on Richmond condo build. Filmmaker Colm Hogan is at work on Back 2 The Zone, a detailed documentary about the club and its widespread influence.

Thank you to participants: Albert Assoon, Charmaine E. Gooden, Dave Campbell, Derek Perkins, Don Cochrane, Scot Turner, Siobhan O’Flynn, and Tony Assoon, as well as to Colm Hogan, Darryl Fine, and Theodora Kali.

The post Then & Now: TWILIGHT ZONE (extended mix) appeared first on Then and Now: Toronto Nightlife History.

Then and Now: Toronto Nightlife History
By Denise Benson. Foreword by Stuart Berman.

Published by Three O’Clock Press. Publication Date: July 15, 2015  

562 pages, with four sections of colour photos. 

More info and to pre-order: http://threeoclockpress.com/titles/then-and-now

The history of Toronto’s nightlife reveals its pulse.

From award-winning veteran music journalist and DJ Denise Benson comes Then & Now: Toronto Nightlife History, a fascinating, intimate look at four decades of social spaces, dance clubs, and live music venues. Through interviews, research, and enthusiastic feedback from the party people who were there, Benson delves deep behind the scenes to reveal the histories of 48 influential nightlife spaces, and the story of a city that has grown alongside its sounds.

Advance Praise

“Contrary to conventional wisdom, Toronto has known how to party for a while. Then & Now tells a heretofore untold social history of Toronto, including the clubs where often-marginalized people found both community and liberation deep into the night. This book is an essential chapter of Toronto’s recent history.” ̶    Shawn Micallef, Author and Spacing Co-owner

“The early days of punk and new wave at The Edge; clubs like Voodoo and Twilight Zone where you could be normal being weird; playing Depeche Mode and New Order at Focus and Club Z; dancing to The Specials at Nuts and Bolts and Fad Gadget at Domino Klub; playing The Happy Mondays at Empire … Legendary Toronto club culture and memories brilliantly captured and stamped in time.” ̶    Scot Turner, Producer/Host CFNY 102.1, Program Director Energy 108

“Denise Benson’s Then & Now … shines a deserved light on the many young, often disenfranchised, DJs, promoters, and business owners who created scenes from nothing, providing safe and exciting spaces for alternative communities and culture to flourish. Denise gets it so right because she was there herself, is still there. Good thing, since reading her chronicles makes me want to dance!” ̶    Liisa Ladouceur, author Encyclopedia Gothica

“Denise … ambassadors all good things in the Toronto music scene. The work she’s accomplished documenting pivotal moments in club history is nothing short of amazing. She is a proven archivist and we are lucky to have someone with this level of passion in our ever-growing and evolving scene.” ̶    Nitin Kalyan aka DJ/producer Nitin, co-founder of No.19 Music

Then & Now launch party poster design by Noel Dix

Please join us in celebrating the release of Then & Now: Toronto Nightlife History!

Featuring:
Denise Benson in conversation with Stuart Berman (8:30-9:30)
followed by DJs spinning through sounds, genres and decades from 10pm ’til late.

MARK ‘SHUGGY’ OLIVER

PAUL E. LOPES & MIKE TULL

JAMES ST. BASS

DJ BARBI

and DEKO-ZE

Then & Now will be for sale at a special launch price and Denise will be signing books.

***

About the launch party:

Light refreshments will be provided.
There will be a cash bar and a full dinner menu available to launch guests.

The main floor of NEST is physically accessible. We regret that there will not be ASL interpretation provided.
Please contact: publicity@threeoclockpress.com with any accessibility queries or concerns.

This is a FREE event.

The post THEN & NOW: Book July 15. Launch July 23. appeared first on Then and Now: Toronto Nightlife History.

Article originally published November 12, 2013 by The Grid online (thegridto.com).

It was a dark, dingy death-trap. But in the early 2000s, there was no better place to party than in this Kensington basement.

BY: DENISE BENSON

Club: Club 56, 56C Kensington Ave.

Years in operation: 2001-2004

History: In the early 2000s, Kensington Market was not much of a destination for dancing. Market nightlife mainly consisted of punk and reggae shows, the occasional low-key lounge or restaurant, impromptu gatherings in the park, and boozecans. Streets tended to be quiet by night and busy by day, when people flooded in to buy vegetables and second-hand clothes.

Squeezed between random storefronts and a TD bank machine, 56C Kensington was easy to miss. Its glass-door entrance was set in from the sidewalk, and was frequently covered in posters. Layers of paint hinted at the location’s past lives, including as an after-hours and, before that, a Vietnamese karaoke bar.

By 2001, a man named Laszlo or Leslye (the English translation) owned the basement bar that came to be known as Club 56. At first, his clientele consisted largely of friends, many of them fellow Hungarians and other Eastern Europeans. It was a social club of sorts.

That same year, a DJ and promoter named Mike Wallace was searching for a new spot to throw his parties. He and Rob Judges—two Scarborough-raised music lovers who’d been friends since grade four—had made names for themselves through a party called Skeme. From 1995 to ’97, the duo scoped underused spaces, bouncing from legion halls to Ethiopian restaurants, Kensington’s Lion Bar and Top o’ the Market and, most successfully, to Spadina’s Club Shanghai.

“We got big by basically being the only party at the time to play Britpop alongside hip-hop, with lots of ’60s nuggets thrown in,” says Judges. “We’d go Wu-Tang into Supergrass into Chambers Brothers, and it worked.”

Mike Wallace in Club 56 entranceway. Photo courtesy of him.

Wallace moved to London, England in 1997. By the time he returned, in summer of 2000, Judges lived in Tokyo. That December, Wallace started his own soul and indie-rock party, dubbed Evil Genius, at Manhattan Club on Balmuto.

“By the summer 2001, I’d been throwing Evil Genius for six months, and was on the lookout for a new venue,” writes Wallace by email. “Walking around the Market, I saw the outside door for Club 56 and was intrigued, but every time I went by, the door was locked. Then, one day in September, I found it open, went downstairs into the club and thought, ‘Yes, totally—this is the place.’

“It was well laid-out, with good integration and separation of bar, lounge, and dancefloor areas. With a low ceiling and lots of mirrors, it would be easy to make any crowd look big. 56 had a sort of jungle-grotto theme, vaguely tropical, gone to seed; plastic foliage dripping from the decaying ceiling, along with various cables and wires and other infrastructure. It looked like it was just about to fall apart, and gave off a sense of impending peril. It looked like an exciting place to party.”

Wallace spoke with a bartender named Charlie, the owner’s friend, who told him the bar was available for parties.

Leslye and Charlie. Photo courtesy of Mike Wallace.

“I called Leslye that night and left a message. A couple of days later, he called around 10 p.m., said he’d like to meet, and asked where I lived. I told him Yonge and Carlton, and he said to meet him downstairs, outside, in 15 minutes. I stood in front of my building, and a silver Mercedes glided to a stop. The window slid down, and there was Leslye in the driver’s seat. ‘You want to do a party?’ ‘Yeah.’ ‘When?’ ‘Three weeks from Friday.’ ‘Okay, see you then.’ We shook hands, and he drove off into the night.”

The first Evil Genius at Club 56 went off in October of 2001.

“The party was packed, and everyone loved the place right away,” recalls Wallace. “Leslye and Charlie were wonderful hosts—generous, welcoming, laid back, super cool.”

Though he would never be privy to either man’s surname (“they were friendly guys, but cagey; we didn’t get into a lot of getting-to-know-each-other”), Wallace had found his new party spot. Other adventurous promoters would soon follow his lead.

Partygoers at Hot Times, at Club 56. Photo courtesy of Mike Wallace.

Why it was important: By the early 2000s, Toronto club-goers were restless. Our once-mighty rave scene was imploding, but its influence and energy still widely felt. Venues in the Entertainment District were heavily skewed to commercial music and faux-luxury—turn-offs for many. A lot of people who’d grown up listening to a range of sounds had become bored by sonically specialized nights. There would soon be a gritty, sweaty, and artfully rebellious response as huge events and swank superclubs were eschewed in favour of warehouse parties and raw, intimate spaces. Club 56 quickly became a hotspot.

“56 was by no means a beautiful place; it was, however, not without its charm,” says DJ Dougie Boom, who would get his start at the venue in 2002. “Its low ceiling and bunkered-down quality had the seediness of an after-hours, which appealed to the kids, but had the familiarity of a suburban basement, which made it more accessible, in some respects. Geographically, it was also appealing, being slightly off the beaten path, but situated between College and Queen.

“You would walk through the glass door and slink down the stairs. The walls in the staircase were covered with mirrors and coloured light bulbs, like a funhouse or an old arcade, but, more probably, were just remnants of its 1970s incarnation as a bar. Once you hit ground level, you usually had to wait to pay and get past security through these narrow doors. The room was small, maybe 80-person capacity legally, and was rather dark.”

The club itself was basically a square, with a corner dancefloor on the right, and a small bar and lounge, complete with grotty black leather couches, on the left. The colour scheme was black, blue, and purple—made more intense by multiple black lights, many of which shone on fish tanks scattered around the space. Walls were wood panel painted black on bottom, with mirrors on top. Most of the floor was ceramic tile, with a linoleum dancefloor. The washrooms frequently flooded.

“56 was a great club for dancing,” says Wallace. “The checkboard linoleum was perfect for sliding. I liked the seediness of it. The down-the-stairs entrance was like going down the rabbit hole. It felt tight, cramped; you knew you’d get touched. Club 56 was ridiculous in the best way, with the fish tanks and plastic grape bunches. People were always at ease there.”

“It was a mouth-wateringly perfect place to throw a party,” adds Judges.

Many promoters and DJs felt the same way. Club 56 would become ground zero for a creative, somewhat anarchic approach to party-throwing, where visuals meant as much as the open-format music mix.

This edition of Then & Now is, in fact, as much about individual events held at 56 as it is about the club itself.

Flyer for the first Evil Genius party courtesy of Mike Wallace.

Evil Genius was ahead of the curve, practically sending a flare out in the night sky; its parties were packed with enthusiastic indie kids who got down to Wallace’s blend of hip-hop, funk, soul and classic rock.

“The Evil Genius flyers used to say ‘Legendary Music from All Eras,’” Wallace recalls. “There were no constraints; anything went.”

He cites signature tracks like Nelly’s “Country Grammar,” April Wine’s version of “Could Have Been a Lady,” Beatnuts’ “Hellraiser,” “Don’t Bring Me Down” by E.L.O., “Exploration” by Karminsky Experience, and Sweet’s “Fox on the Run.”

Evil Genius was an anchor monthly at Club 56 until July 2002. By then, Judges had returned from Japan, and the two dreamed up a new collaborative party, called Hot Times! It launched that September, and was packed from day one. The signature flyers created by Judges were definitely part of the Hot Times! appeal.

“Our flyers asked, ‘Why party?’ and we deliberately spelled things wrong,” explains Judges. “It was never rude, but always sort of deliberately provocative or off—a flash of nipple, a smoking child, scientific-research animals.”

Hot Times! flyers courtesy of Mike Wallace and Rob Judges.

As with the pair’s earlier Skeme parties, Hot Times! zoomed in on hip-hop and rock, but Judges’ music collection had expanded greatly.

“I had brought back tons of music from Japan—mostly Japanese reissues of obscure funk, soul, and rock. But we loved our new stuff, too. Hot Times! was about good music, period.”

His eclectic list of top picks includes “Better Change Your Mind” by Nigeria’s William Onyeabor, Kool G Rap and RZA’s “Cakes,” “Barely Legal” by The Strokes, “Electronic Renaissance” by Belle & Sebastian, The Dave Pike Set’s “Mathar,” and “Hard Times” by Human League.

“That was major. The crowd would sing along to it as ‘Hot Times!,’ which was always my favourite part of the night.

“The DJ booth was built over a fish tank, but you would barely notice it because there were wires and cables everywhere,” Judges continues. “I had no idea what was connected to what, and it always felt like a miracle that the sound ever worked. Our rule of thumb was just ‘Don’t touch anything.’ Seriously, those cables were like the Da Vinci code.”

“The soundsystem was makeshift—lots of scotch tape, lots of improvisation,” Wallace confirms. “The dynamics might not have been optimal, but it always worked and it was always loud.”

Wallace also lovingly details the club’s main visual elements. “The several aquariums scattered about the room each had a few hardy fish. They looked amazing. There was also a single moving colour light, and a small disco ball, with one dim spotlight. Because the ceiling was low, people always hit the disco ball, so the lights were off-kilter, drunken.

“I have no idea how Leslye came to own Club 56, but I do know he loved owning it,” adds Wallace, who also did a run of old-school country nights, called Country Stranger, at 56.

“What I remember most is how he’d always talk about his plans for the future, how he wanted to buy the place next door, tear down the wall, make Club 56 twice as big, and put a huge shark tank behind the bar.”

Rob Judges (left) and Mike Wallace. Photo courtesy of Wallace.

Wallace and Judges would continue Hot Times! together until January of 2003. When Wallace left to restart Evil Genius and to focus on his band, Snowy Owl, another Scarborough friend, Adam Bronstorph, stepped in to DJ alongside Judges.

Both Evil Genius and Hot Times! were consistently rammed. Owner Leslye was both flexible with capacity, and very open to booking other idiosyncratic DJ events.

“Leslye was a businessman all the way,” says Judges. “It always came down to cash for him, but he knew that meant delivering customer satisfaction. He and Charlie were always cool with our crowds, and were never stressed, even when we’d have 50 people on the street trying to get in, and cops showing up. Leslye was just unflappable.”

“Leslye was always in control,” Wallace agrees. “But I think he was bemused by the parties, by the people who went to them, and the people who threw them.”

Lara McMahon, who bartended at Club 56 for roughly a year, offers this take on her former boss: “I think Les had the original intention of opening a fancier style lounge that would cater to an Eastern Bloc crowd, but found that money was in the DJ parties. The crowd there was hip before there were hipsters. They were young, and had money to burn until the morning. On more than a few occasions, Les would lock the door and serve until the sun came up.”

By fate rather than design, Club 56 became a breeding ground for a new wave of hybrid sounds and crowds. Events that happened there connected crowds and communities that were once divided.

The late Will Munro’s Peroxide parties are another great example. By January 2002, when the artist and DJ kicked off his electro-centric monthly, he already had a huge hit in the form of alt-queer event Vazaleen, by then held at Lee’s Palace. Peroxide was a chance for him to showcase the electronic sounds he loved in a much more intimate venue.

The party attracted a wide range of queers, artists, electro-heads, and others with open ears and minds. One regular was future DJ Jaime Sin. Though she did not yet know Munro—they would DJ and plan events together years later—Sin made a point of attending his nights.

“I remember Will passing me a baggie one night, and whispering, ‘drugs!,’” relates Sin. (Munro was straight-edge and avoided drugs.) “It was actually a Peroxide flyer—some kind of electronic part contained in a baggie with the name and date of the party stickered on. Amazing.”

“Will had a knack for making the invitations to his events like works of art that made you not want to miss a night,” echoes artist and curator Luis Jacob, a friend and frequent collaborator of Munro’s.

“For Peroxide, Will rummaged through the bins of Active Surplus on Queen so that the invites had a kind of ‘obsolete technology’ feel to them. At various times, he’d use floppy disks, resistors, and other bits and pieces of gadgetry. The fonts he’d use also had a cold ’80s new wave feel to them, which would match perfectly the cold, arpeggiated electro coming out in the early 2000s. The club itself had a late ’80s feel, so the flyers, music, and physical venue all came together to create this dark, hard, and cool vibe.”

Will Munro’s floppy disk flyer for Peroxide. Courtesy of Sarah Wayne.

Jacob was a regular at Peroxide and would later do parties at Club 56 dubbed Rhythm Box (named in relation to a standout scene from 1982 cult film Liquid Sky). Jacob DJed as Didi7  and—along with Prince Jiffar and The Robotic Kid—played a mix of house, acid, and techno a la Green Velvet’s “Land of the Lost” and A Number Of Names’ “Sharevari.”

“At 56, you really felt that you had arrived at an end-of-the-world party, decorated by mirrored walls, and populated by exotic fish glowing in the dark,” Jacob recounts. “People used to nervously joke that if there ever was a fire, we would all meet a certain death since there was no way everyone would make it through the stairs to safety.

“What I remember most is the heat. I distinctly recall one summer night—though the place was equally hot in the winter—coming outside to get some air. I had been dancing, wearing a green fishnet sleeveless top. I took off my shirt, wrung it, and sweat just gushed out. I couldn’t believe that something made of such little cloth could contain so much liquid. That’s Peroxide at 56 for you!”

Sin shares a related memory.

“When 56 got full, the mirrors would get covered in condensation, and if it got really busy the ceiling would start to drip. At one Peroxide party, there was this amazing-looking girl wearing like, neon socks and clear, platform stripper heels, and I remember thinking, ‘Oh my god, that’s brave!’ because those floors were damn slippery.”

Will Munro-designed Peroxide poster. Courtesy of Jaime Sin.

Club 56 was an unabashedly raw space, but the creativity served up made it exciting.

“I liked the dinginess and the slightly down-and-out quality 56 had,” says Luca Lucarini, also known as DJ Captain Easychord. “Basically it was a shithole, in the best way possible.”

Lucarini was a Kensington Market resident who’d already been to the club plenty by the time he and friend Tom Khan started the Expensive Shit party there in 2002. Khan was a big soul and Afro-funk fan (the party got its name from Fela Kuti’s legendary 1975 album) while Lucarini also loved indie and experimental sounds.

After a bunch of parties, Rob Gordon would step up as Lucarini’s DJ partner. Gordon was a high-school friend, a drummer (he would play in bands including Les Mouches, From Fiction, and Pony da Look), and, in 2000, he’d started to mix his dad’s soul seven-inches with indie rock at bars on College and beyond. After a chance encounter in 2002, when Lucarini flyered Gordon and invited him to an Expensive Shit party that night, the two re-connected.

“We had a long talk and agreed it was time to break from some prevailing form,” Gordon recalls. “The dancefloor fillers from the mod and indie scene had become impotent. We craved something futuristic, yet without the overtly futuristic aesthetic of techno, which was amazing, but certainly nothing new at that time. Toronto nightlife had already begun its organic transformation in this very direction, and we were just another couple of people feeling its traction. Many others felt the same pull, and were already doing something about it. Strangely, they were all doing it at Club 56. I started to attend all the parties at that club, and it really seemed everybody wanted to create the same kind of experience; they just had a more personal flavour to their selections or their approach to mixing.”

Expensive Shit became known for well-programmed sounds that ranged from riot grrrl to Krautrock, Dat Politics to dancehall, DFA to Dizzee Rascal, and other grime, soul, mash-ups and indie rock, often recorded by their many friends connected to Blocks Recording Club. Another friend, Dan Brown, created the psychedelic projections while Peter Venuto’s LED “Trash Lights” synched to the beat as they lit up four different garbage-can lids. Additional sound gear, especially subs for added bass, was rented for the parties.

“The 56 sound system was always budget, and very often actually busted,” Gordon recalls. “This supplied a kind of natural punk vibe to everything that went down there. Italo disco and New York no wave came out of the speakers sounding the same.”

“I remember when we could come in and do soundchecks, Laszlo would always insist on blasting trance, and quite often he would try and take over on the decks mid-party,” adds Lucarini, who also acknowledges that the owner’s “laissez-faire attitude toward capacity was a major part in our party’s success.”

So was live music.

“Everybody at that time was either in a band, or going to check out literally anything [promoter] Mikey Apples would bring to town, so it became regular practice to have a band play before the party would start,” states Gordon. “Drums were banned, probably by me, and there were tonnes of great shows right in front of the DJ booth. Steve Kado famously recorded a version of [OutKast's] ‘Hey Ya,’ and performed it before it was even released. I also have fond memories of d’omain d’or performing their anemic Jesus song, and Oh No the Modulator smashing a pile of vintage computers.”

Mikey Apples both attended and promoted parties at Club 56. He also produced many pioneering events, booking bands with “a punk approach to night music” into a variety of venues in the early 2000s.

“There was a great energy around that scene at the time, not just related to 56,” recounts Apples. “There was the Manhattan Club, up behind the old Uptown cinema, a random Chinese restaurant, a gallery—we were always on the hunt for a new one-off spot. It made it an adventure.

“I wanted to contribute to that momentum, and started doing semi-regular parties at 56. At the same time, I was doing more hybrid concert-party things at Xpace on Augusta, and other raw spaces like Cinecycle.” (He booked bands like The Gossip, Les Georges Leningrad, Numbers, and Ninja High School, and also presented some of the earliest ticketed shows at The Boat, including Glass Candy, Aidswolf, Ariel Pink’s debut Toronto show, and Crystal Castles’ second-ever performance.)

“Dance music was finding its way into something new, and these parties were a mix of what little cool new stuff we could find mixed with old, overlooked gems that fit,” says Apples, pointing to big tunes of the time like The Rapture’s “House of Jealous Lovers,” and LCD Soundsystem’s “Losing My Edge” as examples.

“Most of us that played at Club 56, or during that time, were very good at blending the eras and creating a vibe. It was very exploratory. All of us also put a lot of heart and soul into the experience, like with lots of small details in the promo. Will [Munro]‘s stuff was extraordinary.

“The visual element, the incredible, tangible, often hand-made promo—this stuff was priority numero uno, not numbers or money,” Apples emphasizes. “It felt very pure, very honest and heartfelt.”

Will Munro-designed Peroxide posters. Courtesy of Jaime Sin. 

“When Will Munro took Peroxide to 56, that was like getting the ultimate seal of approval,” says Wallace. “Will was the coolest cat in the city by far. I also remember when Expensive Shit started there; it felt like a generational handshake. They were the new kids to us old kids. I loved their night—a fantastic party. Everything that happened at Club 56 was awesome. It was just that kind of space.”

“Ultimately, Club 56 was a temple of tolerance that allowed young creative energy to explode with reckless abandon,” enthuses Expensive Shit’s Gordon. “I remember it being so unbearably sweaty that everybody started stripping. I remember everybody making out, people hooking up right on the couches, fuelled by a creatively hyper, totally ambiguous sense of sexuality. The energy of every party was so high that it was too much for the little club.”

“The energy on some of the nights in that little basement was pretty spellbinding,” concurs Apples. “Everyone just went for it, with all this great off-the-beaten-path music that had never been put together and presented as something to dance to, at least to the particular generation in attendance. They couldn’t properly fit the amount of people that used to ram in there. It was a very small space, but that’s what lent the place the energy it had. Like atoms smashing together.”

At Hot Times! Photo courtesy of Mike Wallace.

Who else played/worked there: There was a vitality to Club 56 that far outweighed its size; the community that frequented it was ever-expanding, largely through word-of-mouth.

“It was right before everyone used the internet to find out about or communicate everything,” reminds Sin. “Spots did not get blown up so quickly, like they do now.”

Club 56 attracted the curious, the creative, and those who just wanted to do their own thing.

It’s where Darcy “Diggy” Scott got his start as a promoter, before he would work under the name of D-Money. He had attended Peroxide and other nights at 56 before he and friend Steven Artimew started to do events there in the summer of 2002. By early 2003, they went monthly, and named their party Fuck Faces.

“It was aggro dance-party fare,” Scott explains. “There was lots of hair-metal mixed with house, ghettotech stuff, and hip-hop. We were definitely less about a groove, and more about a party. At the time, open format nights were a new idea, for us, and what we brought to the table were DJs with technical skills. There were a couple of open-format monthlies at the time, but the DJs were more musical curators.”

Fuck Faces featured gifted DJs including Andrew Allsgood, Fase, Barbi, Cryo, and Andrew Ross, as well as a newbie named Dig Doug. The man now known as Dougie Boom says the mix of raunchy dance music played at Fuck Faces mirrored the time and place.

“If you were our age or demographic, you probably grew up on rock and new wave in the ’80s, listened to Wu-Tang Clan in the ’90s, and then got into club music in the later ’90s,” explains Boom. “So there was that musical past, but then we mixed in electro, booty, Miami Bass, and ghetto-house as well. It required a certain amount of conviction.”

56 was a perfect fit for the crew.

“It was a spot that we could do whatever we wanted in,” says Scott bluntly.

Asked about his key memories of the space, Scott mentions “The ‘Very Cheap Special.’ It was this glass dome that sat on the bar top, and it had like three-month-old sandwiches in it. It was disgusting.

“56 also routinely ran out of booze, forcing us to call everyone’s favourite after-hours booze delivery company in order to keep the party going.”

“The parties were just banging,” says Boom. “At the end of the night, the floor would be a mess: condensation; cigarette butts, and glass. If we had had computers for DJing at the time, they probably wouldn’t have survived.”

Fuck Faces would continue at 56 into 2004, but outgrew it, and moved on to The Boat, Sneaky Dee’s and, finally, Wrongbar (where it ended in 2010).

“Club 56 was a small step in the long run for Fuck Faces, but it probably wouldn’t have happened otherwise,” says Boom, who now DJs all over the city and is producing music.

He and Scott are also two of the driving forces behind Neighbourhood Watch, a party series that will also fund releases by Toronto-based artists.

Scott’s D-Money promotions grew to become Underdog, which now presents a variety of concerts and parties, including the intrepid Galapagos series. Scott also produces, and records with XI as Ambalance.

A lot of Toronto musicians hung at Club 56—Wallace mentions that “Crystal Castles’ Claudio, Death From Above 1979’s Jesse and Sebastian, Sam Roberts Band members, and many others” partied at Evil Genius and Hot Times!

Jesse Keeler of Death From Above 1979/MSTRKRFT (right), with friend Dennis Chow.
Photo: Mike Wallace.

56 was well-loved for a variety of distinctive parties, which also included deep-funk, rhythm and blues, and garage-rock night Doing It to Death, with DJs Wes Allen and Dan Vila; hip-hop party Let The Hustlers Play with DJs Islamabad and Big Jacks; and superheavyREGGAE, with selectors Jeremiah and Friendlyness, hornsman I-Sax, and a variety of guests.

“The nights that stood out most to me were the superheavyREGGAE parties,” says Franzisca Barczyk, who bartended briefly at Club 56, while a U of T student. “They were always really packed, loud, and there was always a real variety of people.

“Club 56 felt like it was a hidden party spot with a variety of random people,” she adds. “The crowds were completely mixed. Some nights were more student-y. The vibe was always about music and dancing.”

Barczyk got the bartending job offer from Leslye, as did friend Francesca Bungaro-Yemec, when they attended an OCAD party at Club 56 one night in 2002. Francesca had previously tended bar at Babylon on Church Street.

“The first night I was at 56, some crazy drunk girl flushed her cellphone down the toilet, and the mess it made convinced me to never use the washroom,” Bungaro-Yemec recalls. “I would occasionally provide an extra roll of toilet paper over the bar, but that was as close as I got. The back room was also a place I never dared to venture; rumours of ghosts or something sordid kept me out.”

Other familiar faces from Club 56 include Dave Wallace, Mike’s brother, who did door at both Evil Genius and Hot Times!

“He would always do an inspection of the club before a party,” says Wallace. “He’d check the fire extinguisher, try the emergency exit, and pull out the exposed nails that littered the club. ‘This place is a death trap, Mikey,’ he’d say. But we never had any hassle at the door.”

56, ramshackle as it was, would serve as inspiration for many Toronto clubs to come.

“Club 56 showed people that when it came to nightlife, anyone could do it and anything was possible,” states Wallace. “It was a punk-rock space, no matter what music was playing.”

Judges credits Wallace not only for “discovering” 56, but also being one of the first to scout Market spots like The Boat and Top o’ the Market for parties.

“And so, people were not only hearing these open-format type nights, they were getting to see the inside of places they didn’t even realize were there,” Judges says. “Perhaps these nights, and 56, helped open people’s minds up to the idea that a party could happen anywhere, and that with a little creativity and love for what you do, a scuzzy, local dive could be the coolest place in Toronto to be at on a certain night. It was pure DIY, all the way.”

Rob Judges DJs at Hot Times! Photo courtesy of Mike Wallace.

What happened to it: Just like the fish seemed to disappear one-by-one from the Club 56 aquariums, most of its popular dance parties gradually moved to larger venues.

“Our own friends couldn’t even get in to Hot Times!,” says Judges, who left 56 in 2003. “There just physically wasn’t any more room for people, and the crowds on the street outside became a total heatscore.”

Hot Times! moved to Ras Dashen, The Gladstone, Silver Dollar, and the El Mocambo before wrapping in March 2005 at the then newly-opened Supermarket in Kensington. (A visual artist, Judges moved back to Tokyo in 2005 and launched a version of Hot Times! It has since morphed into collaborative party Hindu Love.)

Mikey Apples had stopped doing events at 56 by the time he and Jaime Sin launched Shack Up! Thursdays at Queen and Bathurst dive The Queenshead in 2004. Shack Up! helped that pub become a beacon of cool as they hosted the likes of James Murphy, Juan Maclean, Arthur Baker, and MSTRKRFT. (Apples has since acted as a manager for bands including Crystal Castles, Parallels, and Trust, and is now owner of Bambi’s. Sin would go on to collaborate with Will Munro on parties Seventh Heaven and Love Saves the Day. She now works in fashion direction.)

It was easy to see the Club 56 influence on scruffy spots like The Queenshead and 751, but it’s also evident that the club’s crowds and musical mix served as inspiration for larger venues like The Social and Wrongbar.

Wallace, who’d left Club 56 in 2002 and went on to do Evil Genius and other events at spots including The Boat and El Amigo, sees another angle.

“When The Drake opened [in February 2004], I began to notice a backlash against the open format, no dress-code, cheap-drinks ethos of Club 56. People wanted to be flashy again, exclusive again, show off a little and put up a velvet rope. I was sad for the development, but understood the cycle. It just meant we’d made an impression, and gave them something to react to.” (Wallace now lives with his family in New York City, where he’s a “stay-at-home dad to two great kids.”)

As for Club 56 itself, no one I spoke with was certain why it closed. There had been liquor-license suspensions, but a variety of theories exist as to why the venue’s doors were suddenly locked and slapped with a bailiff’s notice.

“There were a lot of rumours about the managers of the bar, but who knows what the real story was,” offers Luis Jacob. “I heard they never paid any rent, and just disappeared one day when they realized their luck had run out.” (Jacob’s own artistic career is flourishing. He also wrote an essay about Will Munro—who succumbed to brain cancer in 2010—that appears in the art-retrospective book Will Munro: History, Glamour, Magic. Munro’s life story is told in Army of Lovers, a newly published oral history written by The Grid’s own Sarah Liss.)

As for Club 56 owner Leslye himself, many say they’ve heard he was killed, but this cannot be confirmed.

“Rumour has it that Les got into a fight with his roommate, and was murdered getting out of the shower, but I never verified if that was a ‘Kensington urban legend,’” says McMahon, who bartended at Top o’ the Market after Club 56. “When you work for 13 years on-and-off in the Market, you hear a lot of them.” (She is now an assistant director and extras-casting assistant working in film and television.)

56C Kensington in November 2013. The sign for Syp remains. Photo by Denise Benson.

What is known is that 56 Kensington closed at the end of May 2004, and became known as Syp Lounge in January 2005. Peroxide and Expensive Shit continued there for a bit.

“It was good for a few parties, but it just wasn’t the same,” says Lucarini. “We had to bring in our own sound, and the fish tanks were gone. The new owner was also less daring when it came to flirting with over-capacity. I was moving to England that year anyway, so it felt like the right time to wind it down. We had a final [Expensive Shit] sendoff at The Boat.” (Lucarini is now a documentary filmmaker who contributes to the operation of Kensington’s Double Double Land alongside Dan Vila.)

Although its sign is still there, Syp Lounge was short-lived.

“Both Will Munro and, independently, Luca and I tried to take it over when it became available, but with no luck,” says Gordon. (In more recent years, he helped start Double Double Land, and now plays drums for Owen Pallett, has an electronic band called New Feelings, and works at Bambi’s.)

The building at 54-56 Kensington Avenue was recently advertised for sale, but that listing was put on hold last month. Given the ever-changing nature of Kensington Market, its future cannot be predicted.

Postscript: In response to the original Club 56 article published by The Grid, Club 56 staff member Nick Desando sent an email to confirm that owner “Leslie (Laszlo) was indeed killed. He died December 16, 2005. Leslie was a good friend. We, the staff at Club 56, often honour his memory.”

Thank you to participants Darcy Scott, Dougie Boom, Francesca Bungaro-Yemec, Franzisca Barczyk, Jaime Sin, Lara McMahon, Luca Lucarini, Luis Jacob, Mikey Apples, Mike Wallace, Rob Gordon, Rob Judges, as well as to Denise Balkissoon, Randreac, and Sarah Wayne.

The post Then & Now: 56 Kensington a.k.a. Club 56 appeared first on Then and Now: Toronto Nightlife History.

Article originally published September 17, 2013 by The Grid online (thegridto.com).

One of the largest and longest-lasting gay dance clubs in Toronto, this Sherbourne Street super-club went through a number of evolutions as it spurred the local mainstreaming of gay culture during the ’80s and ’90s.

BY: DENISE BENSON

Club: Boots/Boots Warehouse, 592 Sherbourne St.

Years in operation: 1981-2000

History: The story of Boots, one of Toronto’s best-known and longest-lasting gay dance clubs, begins in 1980 at the Waldorf Astoria apartment building. The basement of what was once a hotel at 80 Charles St. E. was rented to a group of men; their first incarnation of Boots proved popular enough that there were noise complaints. The lease was not renewed.

The original Boots on Charles Street. Photo by Joan Anderson,
courtesy of the Canadian Lesbian & Gay Archives.

By late summer of 1981, Boots re-opened in another lower-level location, this time at 592 Sherbourne St., site of the historic Selby Hotel. Once a grand mansion, the building was constructed in the late-1800s, and was home for more than 20 years to members of the wealthy Gooderham family. In 1910, a large addition built on the rear of the mansion opened as Branksome Hall, a private school for girls.

The Selby. Photo via Upper Jarvis Neighbourhood Association.

The mansion became a hotel in 1915. Ernest Hemingway and his wife took up temporary residence there during the 1920s while the writer worked as a foreign correspondent for the Toronto Star. The address is also said to have housed a brothel, and a popular licensed establishment in the 1950s named the Skyway Lounge. By the 1970s, it was in decline—however, Boots’ best-known co-owners, Rick Stenhouse and Jerry Levy, were not deterred by the Selby’s rundown state.

“Rick and Jerry were part of a group of businessmen that had individual interests in a number of enterprises,” explains Brent Storey, a Boots regular-turned-staffer who soaked up a great deal of the Selby’s history from stories told to him by two long-serving bartenders and the building’s handyman of four decades.

“Jerry was best known for the Club Toronto [bathhouse], while Rick also owned Crispins and Buddys [later the Bijou] at Gerrard and Church [as well as the Bourbon Street jazz club and dinner theatre at 180 Queen St. W.]. Boots was really Rick’s place.”

Ads for establishments owned by Rick Stenhouse, circa early-1980s. Image courtesy of Canadian Lesbian & Gay Archives.

The Selby’s rear sub-level was large, and divided into multiple areas, some of which had already operated as taverns and other social spots. This allowed the owners to open a lounge space, dubbed Bud’s, alongside Boots.

“Bud’s was in what had been a men’s draft hall, named after one of the original bartenders,” says Storey. “Boots had the ‘Ladies Lounge,’ which is where a huge bar was installed, with booths along the windows. The remainder of the addition’s basement was a warren of rooms that were used as coat check, pool rooms, and small washrooms.”

Bob Harrison Drue, known simply as “Bob Harrison” during his DJ days, recalls that Boots, like many gay bars of the time, was initially a “stand-and-stare cruise bar for men.” (Women were not welcome until years later.) A jukebox provided the music, both on Charles Street and initially at the Selby location, where Drue would soon assume the role of Boots’ resident DJ.

“Boots had limited seating,” recalls Drue. “I loved the crushed red-velvet semi-circle booths in front of the long bar and windows that looked out onto Selby Street. There were stand-up tables, and beer barrel tables throughout. It was a relatively dark cruise bar. There was a wall behind the long bar and, on the other side of it, they installed a dancefloor near the back—it was put in as an after-thought, and it was small.

“Bud’s had pub-like seating, and was usually not as busy as the Boots side,” says Drue. “Later, a DJ booth was added, and TVs with videos run by Peter Frost.”

Capacity at Boots and Buds in the early years is thought to be in the range of a few hundred people. This would increase greatly over the years as both sides were renovated, expanded, and developed for a variety of uses and identities.

Boots and Bud’s ad courtesy of Bob Harrison Drue.

Why it was important: Boots opened at a time when gay bars were reasonably plentiful, largely based on or near Yonge Street, but there was not yet a centralized Gay Village. That would come in the mid-to-late-1980s, as businesses like Second Cup—with its infamous steps—and Woody’s became anchoring social spots near Church and Wellesley.

Boots and Bud’s also opened a mere half-year after the February 1981 police raids on four gay bathhouses that resulted in over 300 arrests. Large related protests helped spark a strong gay-and-lesbian rights movement in this city and beyond.

Boots—along with bars like Katrina’s, Cornelius, The Barn and, soon after, Chaps—would serve as important gathering places and signifiers of change.

“Toronto was vibrant compared to now,” says Storey of the years that followed the bathhouse raids. “Those were the days when we actually had a ‘community,’ and the bars were our means to connect. For years before, bars that were going under would ‘go gay’ for the final months, but gay bars were becoming more respectable, cleaner, and nicer. We were winning the battle for our rights. We were proud.”

Boots reflected this growth with its own development.

Bob Harrison Drue, circa 1982. Photo courtesy of him.

Drue, who’d begun DJing in Vancouver while a UBC student during the mid-1970s, helped usher in change at Boots. From late 1981 to September 1983, he played there Monday through Saturday.

“The DJ booth was very primitive,” he recalls. “The turntables weren’t meant for DJ use, the mixer was a poor quality Citronic, there was one amp, and the speakers were in beer barrels on a small dancefloor. There was no disco lighting except for a mirror ball.

“Unfortunately, unlike Montreal and Vancouver, gay bars in Toronto—other than Stages—didn’t spend money on sound and lights. It took a lot of convincing to have Boots add disco lighting and better equipment. I had to buy my own 1200s [turntables], and eventually bought my own mixer. The needles skipped when people got down on the dancefloor, and this wasn’t corrected until Boots was renovated years later. The initial lights installed at Boots were done by a friend—RIP Robert Love—and consisted of air-ductwork tubes outfitted with coloured lights, a mirror ball and two strobe lights. Convincing Boots to pay a lighting person was a victory, as it was unheard of in gay bars in Toronto before that, except at Stages and Charly’s [disco atop the St. Charles Tavern].”

These were humble beginnings for a bar that would become a gay Toronto institution.

Drue—soon joined in the booth by lighting man Richard McNicoll, later of Stages—was adventurous in his musical tastes. He played a mix of disco, R&B, new wave, and Salsoul recordings.

“Unlike after-hours, drug-oriented dance clubs where folks will dance to anything, I never found it particularly easy to play for a drinking crowd—unless you were a DJ who played one established hit after another, which I definitely didn’t,” emphasizes Drue. “I constantly played new music, and was never ashamed if a new song cleared the dancefloor. After all, folks were still drinking, and I knew they would start again on the next one.

He mentions favourites from the era, including Voyage’s “Follow The Brightest Star” and “Let’s Get Started,” and The Flying Lizards’ “Money.” One song’s release especially stands out.

“Peter Frost was in NYC, and came back with two promo copies of The Weather Girls’ ‘It’s Raining Men’ in 1982. I played the damn thing for 45 minutes straight; we couldn’t get enough of it!”

Boots’ Top 100 Chart for 1982. Courtesy of Bob Harrison Drue.

Boots’ location—slightly off the beaten path at Sherbourne, just south of Bloor—did not limit its popularity.

“That had little affect,” says Drue. “Walking home was a bit scary—some of us walked with canes or baseball bats just in case. It was a scary time, but Boots was social and an escape.

“It quickly became the bar to be at—we were busy all the time, with line-ups. Its success had a profound effect on the few other gay bars, and changed the landscape of gay Toronto in those days. Charly’s suffered as a result, as did others.”

Initially known as a leather bar, Boots soon grew to attract a range of men of varying ages.

“There were certainly jocks, and uniforms were quite popular; Boots hosted some of the hottest men around—sexy, sweaty men dancing shirtless,” describes Casey McNeill, who began going there in the early 1980s, while still underage. Boots was his first gay bar, and would later become his place of employment.

“Boots had a sense of community as everybody used to go there at some point, and it was really a regular hangout for many, but it definitely was a butch crowd,” says McNeill. “It was easy to meet new people there—for whatever reason!”

Posters courtesy of Canadian Lesbian & Gay Archives.

Boots boasted no shortage of heat.

“When the bar had the right mix of folks who wanted to party at any and all costs, which was frequent, it was a lot of fun—until they got too wild and started jumping on the dancefloor, making the needles skip,” Drue recounts. “The A/C couldn’t keep up with the packed houses, so it did get quite steamy at times, and, even though I hated it, when the whistles started blowing, the level of energy always increased. There were a lot of fun, hot, and sweaty nights that I recall fondly.”

Frequently packed, with line-ups outside, Boots went through its first major expansion in 1982. That July, management announced increased capacity, four dancefloors, and a new “dining lounge.”

But the club’s many mirrors didn’t reflect a capacity crowd for long; in October 1983, Chaps launched on Isabella just east of Yonge. Former Boots’ general manager Ward Hagar opened it with Alek Korn (later a co-owner of Woody’s) and along with them went key Boots’ staff, including McNicoll and other lighting men, head bartender Michael Moran, and Drue.

“I took my lighting people, records, and my turntables when I left,” says the DJ, who went on to work at indie Canadian dance label SPG Music, where he put together several compilations. (Drue now works in television, licensing original productions for Canada.)

“Once Chaps opened, Boots was a ghost town… until many years later.”

DJ Alberto Zara helped turn things around when he became resident at Boots late in 1986, and remained until 1994. Well known in the community for his years spent spinning at clubs including Dudes, The Barn, and Solteros, Zara began with an experience remarkably similar to Drue’s.

“When I took over at Boots, they had one mirrorball and one pinspot on the dancefloor, and still a false ceiling with tiles. I had to bring my own turntables in. There was nothing there.”

He describes dealings with Rick Stenhouse and his then-new “silent partners who weren’t involved in the club or in the gay community.” (Stenhouse, who is believed to have moved to Vancouver, could not be located for comment.)

“To many people, Rick was a very, very difficult person,” Zara says. “He was very much a businessman; he had a vision for the hotel and the whole club. I worked for him for eight years, and we had our ups and downs, but I could work very well with him. A lot of the stuff I wanted to do to help transform Boots, he supported.

Boots’ DJ Alberto Zara (left) with owner Rick Stenhouse. Photo courtesy of Zara.

“I’m very handy, and I wanted to make that place beautiful,” adds Zara, who lived across the street from the bar at the time. “I rewired the whole place, and had them put televisions everywhere.”

Zara also brought in friend Shawn Riker, who he’d met at Solteros.

“Shawn is a big part of making Boots happen the way it did. He’s a genius when it comes to sound and lighting. We changed the room, getting rid of the false ceiling, peeling off the plaster from the walls, built an amazing DJ booth—with fridge and telephone—and many more things that made Boots the place to be.”

Riker, along with DJs Rafael Meli and Barry Harris, also filled in for Zara on occasion, but the resident DJ played at Boots four-to-five nights each week for eight years, spinning disco, radio hits, remixes, and more underground sounds purchased at Starsound Records.

“In those days, there was one main DJ for each club, and that was part of a club’s identity,” Zara recalls.

“I played a lot of disco—Sylvester, Divine, ‘Pink Cadillac,’ the classics—and people used to go nuts. Slowly, I moved to play some house, as it was the new sound. I snuck it in, and then came the techno and Euro stuff.

“I think those were the best eight years of my entire life, and I’m 61 now. People would scream so loudly at the beginning of a mix; it’s something that I feel to this day. When I would pull a record out of its sleeve, it would instantly get soaked—the energy, the heat, the condensation would hit the record immediately. I loved it, and I had an amazing following, as did Boots. My DJing always was a mix of what the people wanted and what I liked to play.”

Zara also mentions performances by the likes of Eria “Savin’ Myself” Fachin, and special events ranging from thematic parties to the popular “Friends Helping Friends” fundraisers, which supported children living with HIV and AIDs through Sick Kids Hospital.

He also emphasizes that Boots’ substantial patio, occupying the south side of the building, gave the club an edge over competitors like Chaps, The Barn, Colby’s and Komrads.

“We had a huge patio, Boots’ main room with another room adjacent, plus Bud’s and the patio upstairs. At times, there were up to 2,700 people coming through in a night. Boots made a lot of money,” Zara says.

“We had a primarily older, more established crowd. There were a lot of beautiful, beautiful people—men in tank tops, so many muscles. Chaps took the trendy, younger crowd. In those days, each crowd had their own place.”

Casey McNeill behind the bar at Boots. Photo courtesy of him.

McNeill, who began as a busboy at Boots in 1989, and would go on to become a head bartender and co-manager over the next 11 years, agrees that the late-1980s through very early 1990s was another peak period for the club.

“Everybody was going there, the tunes were hot, and there was a real sense of freedom—especially since we were really making headway with gay rights then.”

Zara left Boots in 1994, after the crowds again departed en masse. (He continued to DJ, and now shares mixes on his popular YouTube channel.) He tells me that a $2 cover charge added in 1993 was a definite turn-off for revellers accustomed to free partying.

This small cover—along with many interviewee mentions of noise complaints from Hotel Selby customers—helps illustrate the relationship between Boots and the hotel business at large.

“I’m not sure when Rick Stenhouse became sole owner, but his dream was a boutique gay hotel,” says Storey. “However, the hotel was in poor condition, and he recognized the bar was his cash cow. He invested in renovating Boots’ many small rooms into larger spaces, and installed two large washrooms and the unusually large patio, which increased the capacity.”

Boots’ late-1980s renovations also included removing a wall that separated the main long bar from its closest dancefloor, and adding a café, called the Purple Cactus. It never took off.

In the early 1990s, Stenhouse reportedly spent more than $500,000 to repair the Selby. The mansion’s damaged rooftop was replaced with slate, a grandiose front desk was built, and wrought-iron fencing in front of the building was reconstructed to match the original.

“Rick had made substantial improvements to the hotel but, in order to finance the major renovations, he had taken second and third mortgages on it, totalling $5 million,” shares Storey.

“Unfortunately, the real-estate crash of the late-’80s had reduced the property value to around $3 million. An astute businessman, Rick focused on the bars to generate maximum profit.”

Boots staff, including Casey McNeill (in denim shirt) and Brent Storey (in white tank top). Photo courtesy of Storey.

Storey—one of Toronto’s best known fan dancers, who had practiced in the mirrors of Boots and danced there for years—became a big part of the club’s next chapter when he started working there “by accident, on Pride Day 1993.”

“My lover had passed away three weeks’ prior so, not knowing what to do with myself, I went back to Boots because it always felt comfortable,” Storey recounts.

Friend Barry Harris—with whom Storey had worked at clubs including The Copa, 101 Jarvis, and Chaps—was DJing that night and invited Storey to play with Boots’ new lights.

“I jumped at the chance, and blissfully stayed till the last song. I ended up there every Saturday, and many Fridays, for months—my reward being beer.”

Soon officially hired as Boots’ lighting man, Storey also did event décor, assisted in promotions and, significantly, helped develop and build the club’s next iteration.

The new-and-improved Boots Warehouse dancefloor. Photo courtesy of Brent Storey.

The reincarnation: By 1994, things weren’t looking good for Boots.

“When I first was asked to go back to Boots, it was like a giant bowling alley—it was dead,” recalls Greg Matchett, the club’s general manager from 1985-1988.

Upon his return in ’94, Matchett started by hiring new resident DJ Alain Plamondon, fresh from his stint at the popular Bar 1.

“When I walked in, attendance at Boots was down,” agrees Plamondon. “Greg hired me to cater to an older crowd, but there wasn’t an older crowd to spin for. I went in my own direction, and played for the existent, younger, crowd. Within months, the crowd grew.”

This trend continued as Matchett and Storey spearheaded Boots and Bud’s most radical transformation yet: into Boots Warehouse, Toronto’s largest gay dance club of the time, and the Kurbash, an unabashed sleaze bar, complete with a maze, gargoyle glory holes, and a shower.

Kurbash was developed first. Out went Bud’s drag shows and karaoke, in came metal and rougher edges.

“The drag queens left, and the leather-and-denim crowd came back,” says Storey. “The word-of-mouth buzz was enough to fill the place, and Boots also experienced an increase in numbers as men would use ‘Going to Boots’ as an excuse to head to the Kurbash’s infamous maze. Once the Kurbash was established, and the money increased, Rick decided to take the next step, and finally remove the cumbersome main bar in Boots. I designed the new space and built most of it, plus revamped the logo and the name.”

The removal of the massive, long bar in favour of small satellite bars doubled the main room’s dancefloor space. Boots Warehouse was industrial and modern.

“The room had a purple floor, metallic silver walls, and a corrugated steel ceiling,” Storey says. “Lighting was hung from a TV-tower truss, and a system of receptacles allowed me to rework the show. We upgraded the sound to a kick-ass digital system. In spite of the 10-foot ceiling, I was able to fire off pyrotechnics over the crowd!”

“The layout was also spectacular,” McNeill reminisces. “It had something that is ultimately important in gay bars—flow. People like to be able to walk around a lot and hang out in different areas. Boots provided this very well.”

“Within a year, we became the place to go again with a younger crowd,” recalls Plamondon. “The Kurbash brought in an older crowd. Together, they attracted everyone.”

Says Matchett, “I went after the post-AIDS crowd: men around 35, like myself, who were so guilt-ridden because we were healthy—the lucky ones—and most of our friends had died.

“We catered to a demographic that needed to release the AIDS cloud hanging over them. To me, they were and are the generation of gay men that has defined our strengths and gave dignity to our community.”

Theme nights were developed, disco was again celebrated, and artists, including house vocalist Byron Stingily, were booked to perform.

“I remember The Weather Girls being a great deal of fun, energetic, and working the crowd,” says McNeill.

“The Weather Girls were a hoot,” agrees Matchett. “When I booked Thelma Houston in for a night, she had not performed in a while, and was very nervous. After a lot of vodka, she got onstage and blew the crowd away. She was and is a diva.”

Sealing the deal was Plamondon’s ability to mix energetic, crowd-pleasing sets of “everything popular in commercial dance, house, Euro, and tribal,” as he puts it.

“Boots wasn’t afraid to be a gay bar and we played ‘gay dance music,’” summarizes Storey. “Alain was always enthused, critical of himself, and eager to perform well, which he did. He was always concerned about people having a good time.”

By 1995, Boots Warehouse frequently attracted crowds of 2,000 people, which helped fund a stunning renovation of the club’s huge patio.

“Now with 12 bars open on weekends, sales reached $2.5 million that year,” enthuses Storey. “We were packed every weekend!”

Poster for Circuit Wednesdays, courtesy of Scott Cairns.

Who else worked/played there: Matchett says that Boots’ core staff included approximately 25 people at any given time, with some bartenders and staff dating back to the pre-Boots’ days, as jobs were unionized through the Hotel Selby.

Many interviewees make mention of long=time head bartender Brent Savoy, while Alberto Zara also points to barkeeps including Scott Middleton, Rick Pereira, Jimmy Carmichael, John Boutilier, and Virginia. (“The only woman who worked at Boots at the time; she was very popular.”) Drag queen Amanda Roberts was adored, both for her on-stage performances and skills as a shooter girl.

Managers were key, with original GM Ward Hagar followed by men including Matchett, Robert Rochon, Doug Laufman, and the creative David Heymes, who’d also worked at clubs including Nuts & Bolts, The Copa, and Lizard Lounge.

In addition to Richard McNicoll and Brent Storey, regulars like Brian Wheatley, David Beaulieu, and Pascal Pennella lit up Boots’ dancefloors while DJs Krys Shepherd and Bob Currer played in the club’s early years. [Addendum: Following the original publication of this piece, Bob Currer responded to say that he had DJed five nights weekly at Boots from 1985 to 1987, and to dispute that the club was "a ghost town" during this time. His full statement can be found in the comments thread below.]

Alberto Zara and Boots also helped inspire DJ/producer Barry Harris to return to the booth. Harris had known Zara since the days when they’d both DJed at Dudes cruise bar, with Harris going on to play clubs including 101 Jarvis, The Copa, and Stilife before he formed pop-dance project Kon Kan in 1988, and had a massive pop hit in the form of “I Beg Your Pardon.”

Kon Kan was slowing by the time Harris visited Zara at Boots, and was asked to fill-in on occasion.

“I fell back into DJing after taking three years off; it was like riding a bike,” exclaims Harris, who played many a weekend night at Boots, between 1992-94.

“For fun, I did a Kon Kan track show of ‘Sinful Wishes’ in my underwear, along with a big muscular body builder and three nuns in drag. I guess that was the last ‘show’ Kon Kan ever did.”

Harris tells me he felt a little stifled by the Electric Circus and Energy 108 pop leanings of Boots’ crowds, but also enjoyed playing many tracks of the time, like “Swamp Thing” by The Grid, and Lectroluv’s “Dream Drums.”

“I still love this track! It really turned me on to the ‘new house’ scene,” says Harris, who observes that by 1994, “house—real house—was finally becoming huge in the gay scene.”

Harris points to the rise of gay Toronto DJs like Scott Cairns and Mark Falco, both of whom played at Boots Warehouse for brief periods. (Cairns’ Circuit Wednesdays ran during the warm months of 1996 and, despite the event name, featured underground house.)

Circuit promo courtesy of Scott Cairns.

“It was like another whole new generation was moving into the gay dance-club scene again—something I’d already seen happen when the 1980s generation took over from the ’70s disco generation,” Harris adds. “But Boots was still a part of the ‘old’ generation. I could get away with only a bit of the mainstream vocal pop house that was coming out, like Juliet Roberts’ ‘I Want You‘ and Crystal Waters’ ‘100% Pure Love.’

Frustrated, he left in the fall of 1994 to develop a house night on Wednesdays at The Barn before moving to Los Angeles in 1998, and soon hitting it big with Thunderpuss remixes of Amber, Whitney Houston and others. (More recently, Harris has returned to his alt-rock roots as he fronts the band Sick Seconds. He also continues to DJ and produce dancefloor remixes.)

I also DJed at Boots for a few years in the mid-’90s, first as a resident of the Betty Page Society Fetish Night; presented by Northbound Leather, this bi-weekly affair ran for many years at Boots, and is at the root of the fetish events they continue to produce. Then, I became the host of Crush, a series that raised funds for queer community groups for much of 1996.

Despite all the success of Boots Warehouse and the Kurbash, however, all was not well behind the scenes. Stenhouse took Hotel Selby and the Boots Warehouse complex into receivership in fall of 1995, prompting Matchett and others to leave.

“I found out that Rick was going to let Boots go into receivership a few days before Pride ’95,” Storey reveals. “It was a crushing blow to learn the news, and I was one of only a very few he told. We were going strong at that point, and I was excited about the Pride décor, free barbecue, pyrotechnics, and Boots’ parade float. Having to hold this secret that weekend was a burden; to do it cheerfully was an effort.

“Rick continued to operate the place for a couple years after the banks took over. A few managers who weren’t familiar with the bar or club scene were hired, before the eventual sale.”

Still, weekends at Boots remained hugely popular. One manager appointed by the receivership company had even suggested a Sunday retro night, which proved to be a big hit.

“When that night began, we weren’t too sure how it would go,” admits its resident DJ, Alain Plamondon. “The third week fell on a Labour Day weekend holiday Sunday, and I will never forget that night. We were packed! For nearly two hours solid during peak time, people on the dancefloor cheered for every mix I did. After that, Retro Sundays were a success.”

Boots Warehouse and the Kurbash were now packed all three nights of the weekend.

The final iteration of the Boots bar, circa 1997. Photo courtesy of Brent Storey.

What happened to it: In late 1997, the building was purchased by husband and wife Nazir and Anish Akbarali, who initially developed Hotel Selby into a Howard Johnson.

“Nazir and Anish were in the hotel business, but kept Boots running for a few years because it generated money,” says Plamondon. “Anish had a brother named Ralph who became a manager, and was loved by the staff.”

The Akbaralis’ daughters also worked coat check at Boots Warehouse, but all was not harmonious.

“Anish did not believe in nudity of any kind,” says Plamondon. “The Kurbash had to go! The porn on the TVs had to go! Any nudity—even if it was on a safe-sex poster—had to go! This infuriated many, and we lost part of the crowd. We were still quite busy, but the crowds slowly dwindled.”

“The Akbaralis always claimed ‘not to have a problem’ with homosexuality, but never intended to keep the bar long anyway,” adds Storey. “It was a cash cow to generate money to put into the hotel’s renovations. They always put the hotel first, and allowed the bar to deteriorate. It was a battle to keep it going as long as we did.

“Before Pride 2000, there were problems with the sound, lighting, and bar equipment, so [friend and then manager] Roger Bonnell and I had a planning meeting with the owners. They announced that no repairs would be done, there was to be no money spent, and that they were planning a $10 Friday and $20 Saturday cover charge. They explained that any ill will generated didn’t matter as they were closing Boots soon after.

“After sleeping on it, I called Roger, and we quickly agreed we didn’t want to be part of it, and quit. The owner seemed quite pleased he could start building hotel rooms in the bar space sooner.” (In an Xtra! article dated June 28, 2000, Anish Akbarali cited sound complaints as reason for closing the club.)

Others on staff, including Plamondon and Casey McNeill, also made it clear that they would not work the weekend of Pride 2000.

“It was our way of slapping them in the face by not allowing them the immense profits of one last Pride,” says McNeill. “Plus, we all got Pride off! It was a little bittersweet for the staff.”

Boots Warehouse closed with a hastily produced, but well-attended party on June 18, 2000.

Storey decorated with his personal collection of staff t-shirts and other Boots memorabilia, many of which were taken by patrons for souvenirs. Some people also smashed toilets in protest.

“On that last night, people were in shock when they walked in, and the word went around,” explains Plamondon, who closed the club with Nancy Sinatra’s “These Boots Are Made for Walkin’.”

“After DJing in the gay scene for 26 years, I can honestly say that Boots Warehouse was my all-time favourite club to play at,” he says. (Plamondon continues to DJ, including at Woody’s, The Vic, and Zipperz/Cellblock, where his Retro Sunday tradition lives on.)

“Boots was an original, and has never been duplicated; I don’t think it ever will,” says McNeill. “What always comes to mind are the positive feel, and the energy of the place. People celebrated birthdays, anniversaries, Pride, Halloween, anything. Everybody has a few good stories about their times at Boots.” (McNeill later worked in hospitality, and as an HR coordinator at an entertainment company before returning to school this year to study business.)

Storey, who went on to do lighting and décor at Fly nightclub for six years, maintains an interest in the development at 592 Sherbourne St., but his heart belongs to Boots.

“I lost my connection to the building as soon as the entrance to Boots was bricked in, but I still remember the fun people had there, and I’m proud of what we achieved in giving them the best we could.”

592 Sherbourne currently operates as The Clarion Hotel & Suites Selby.

592 Sherbourne currently operates as The Clarion Hotel & Suites Selby. The building, which was granted official heritage status in 1989, is likely to be relocated closer to Sherbourne as part of The Selby Condos, a 49-storey development project now in pre-construction stage.

Thank you to participants Alain Plamondon, Alberto Zara, Barry Harris, Bob Harrison Drue, Brent Storey, Casey McNeill, and Gregg Matchett, as well as to Scott Cairns, the late Rick Bébout for his Promiscuous Affections diaries, and the Canadian Lesbian & Gay Archives.

The post Then & Now: Boots appeared first on Then and Now: Toronto Nightlife History.

Article originally published December 4, 2012 by The Grid online (thegridto.com).

With the help of two rare DJ mixes, we revisit the early-‘80s Yonge Street club that provided Toronto’s gay community with a safe haven and showcased cutting-edge dance-music sounds, before the spectre of AIDS brought the party to a close.

BY: DENISE BENSON

Club: Stages, 530 Yonge

Years in operation: 1977-1984

History: The northwest corner of Yonge and Breadalbane was once occupied by the Hotel Breadalbane. In 1945, the Bolter family purchased the hotel and would transform the downstairs of 530 Yonge into The Parkside Tavern. The Bolters also owned The St. Charles Tavern, at 488 Yonge. By the mid-1960s, both taverns were known to be gay bars.

At that point in history, gay nightlife in Toronto was still very much underground. It was common for the heterosexual owners of gay bars to be contemptuous of their clientele. This seems to have been the situation at The Parkside, a dingy beer hall largely frequented by a daytime crowd. The Parkside’s owners allowed police to regularly spy on patrons in the washrooms, waiting to nab men engaged in any sort of sexual acts. Arrests were made, and the practice continued throughout the 1970s, even as gay activists organized leafleting campaigns and called for boycotts of the bar.

These conflicts were characteristic of the time. During the mid-to-late-1970s, Yonge Street was the main artery of Toronto gay social life (it would shift to Church in the mid-1980s). Those looking to dance could hit a number of spots near Yonge and Wellesley, like The Manatee, The Quest, Katrina’s, Club David’s, The Maygay (later Charly’s), and Cornelius, which sat above biker bar The Gasworks. By 1977, there were even two gay-owned bars in the area: The Barn, opened by Janko Naglic at 418 Church, and small cruise bar Dudes, opened by Roger Wilkes, a founder of the York University Homophile Association, and his partner David Payne in an alley just behind The Parkside.

While there were lots of options to dance and cruise, Yonge and its surrounding streets were not necessarily safe for queer people. Not only did the police frequently harass gay hangouts (most notoriously during the 1981 bathhouse raids), gay men and lesbians were all-too-often physically attacked.

“Those were the days when, on Halloween, people would throw eggs and ink at drag queens,” says Arnie Kliger, the man who would open Stages. “It also wasn’t particularly safe for gays to walk around the side streets.”

Kliger had both safety and glamour in mind when he worked with partner Stephen Cohen to open after-hours gay disco Stages. Its location, above The Parkside, had housed numerous clubs since the late-’60s, among them The August Club, Mama Cooper’s, The Milkbar, Quasimodo, and Bimbo’s.

Influenced largely by New York gay and after-hours clubs like The Saint, Studio 54, and 12 West, Kliger and Cohen chose to open an unlicensed dance club where music, dancing, and men would be the focus. There was nothing like it in Toronto at the time.

Stages’ doors opened at 12:01 a.m. on January 1, 1977. People lined up to begin the new year in this new disco that would raise the bar for late-night dancing in Toronto.

“Many of the straight-owned clubs were rundown, the owners didn’t care, and just wanted to make a buck,” recalls DJ/producer Barry Harris. “Charly’s upstairs at the St. Charles Tavern was a good example of that. The gay crowd accepted it for years as gay clubs were still somewhat taboo, but eventually stopped supporting them.

“Stages was opened by an owner who appreciated good sound, good quality everything, and took care of his customers.”

Courtesy of Andrée Emond.

Why it was important: “We wanted to offer a different late-night experience, and take the whole party to a higher, better level,” says Kliger of his venture with Cohen (who would depart a few years after the Stages’ opening to pursue his main interests in design and architecture).

Kliger was committed to creating an experience as good as—or better than—those he had at the New York and San Francisco clubs he frequented. When patrons made it through the line that ran up the stairs to Stages, they turned left, paid a small cover (generally $5-$8) and walked in to a sizable but intimate rectangular room with a large wooden dancefloor in the middle. At the far end was a long bar that sold juice, water, and oodles of Perrier. The bar was adorned with bouquets of flowers and trays of fresh fruit, while bartenders would also pull out boxes of percussive instruments—tambourines, bongos, maracas—for customers to play. On the east and west walls, overlooking the dancefloor, were two built-in bleachers that ascended almost to the ceiling. They were deep and upholstered, with huge custom cushions adding to the comfort.

“Arnie Kliger was the best bar manager Toronto ever had,” DJ/producer Paul Grace tells me. “Arnie wanted a space where he would be comfortable and happy partying—one that was safe, where there were no problems. He set up the club so people could relax.”

Photo by Terry Robson, courtesy of Arnie Kliger.

Kliger created membership cards for Stages, and hired former policeman Bob Bush, nicknamed Gloves, to keep potential troublemakers out.

“Gloves was an ex-London bobby, and he was our sole security man,” Kliger says. “He could take care of 10 guys trying to come up that stairway. In the entire time Stages was open, there was never a problem inside—no fights, nothing. I think that speaks volumes.

“We wanted people to have a safe place when they came in with their friends, all twisted and bent,” Kliger adds. “They knew that once they got off of Yonge Street and through those doors, they were secure to do whatever they wanted—party, take their shirt off, play a drum, whatever. Nobody came there for an hour; they stayed till morning. Most of our clientele carried sunglasses.”

Stages ran Fridays, Saturdays, and Sundays, with doors generally opening at 11 p.m. and music heard until 6 a.m. or later. The 600-capacity club attracted large, loyal crowds, primarily of gay men, but also lesbians and straight folks attracted to the music and vibe.

“Stages was the only club I had ever heard of at the time that was mixed, gay and straight,” recalls Harris, an occasional customer who would later fill in as a guest DJ there. “I believe this was unusual, but was also something that made Stages very ‘chic.’”

“Fridays were definitely more straight, or mixed, but Stages was a place that was very ‘tolerant’ on any night, sort of setting up for a sensibility the Twilight Zone carried through,” recalls musician, producer and photographer Don Pyle, a Stages regular for years after his sister introduced him to the club in 1979.

“More than tolerant, Stages had a slightly decadent feel because it was night people and pretty sexual on the dancefloor, with all orientations having fun.”

Photo by Terry Robson, courtesy of Arnie Kliger.

Club people flocked to Stages for many reasons, with its stellar sound and lighting high on the list.

“The lights came from New York’s Times Square Lighting,” says Kliger. “I couldn’t afford [renowned sound designer] Richard Long, but I copied his music systems.”

“Stages was one of those magical clubs you just had to experience,” states Paul Grace. “It’s still my favourite club, and that includes [clubs in] New York. It was relatively small, but had a killer soundsystem and great lights. There were these lovely big scoop speakers for bass that you could actually crawl into. I knew guys who would, and then they’d trip on the bass all night.”

“On the dancefloor, it was like a nice, warm fuzzy blanket because you were cocooned in the lights and the music,” recalls Richard “Bambi” McNicoll, a Stages lighting tech from 1982.

“The speakers completely surrounded you. Stages was intimate and had sound that could have been in a club three times its size. The lighting was also far ahead of its time. Where most club lighting systems were pretty static and the fixtures stayed where they were, what made Stages so unique was that you could change the light show every week—and that’s what I did.”

Photo by Terry Robson, courtesy of Arnie Kliger.

McNicoll, who came to Stages after working lights at Charly’s, was shown the ropes by lighting woman Andrée Emond. A veteran of venues including Rock ‘n’ Roll Heaven, Emond worked at Stages from 1980 to 1983, brought in by one of her best friends, legendary Toronto DJ Greg Howlett. Emond and McNicoll would squeeze themselves into Stages’ tiny booth, working to create energy and mood directly beside DJs including Howlett, Wally MacDonald and, later, Paul Grace.

Emond recalls taping up her fingers to work the many toggle switches on Stages’ vertical lighting board, built into the wall. The DJ booth was directly on the edge of Stages’ dancefloor, with nothing but wire fencing separating crew from crowd. Five mirror balls were clustered in the dancefloor’s centre.

“The square dancefloor had a fairly low ceiling—pin spots, spinners and strobe lights were set above and on a suspended industrial grid that covered it,” says Emond. “But it was the Christmas lights and the Kelly controller that blew me away. There were at least 1,500 hundred lights that could be changed to provide rows of basic colours.

“The crowd would scream with excitement when those blasts of bright light came perfectly timed with the music. I learned not to be afraid of the dark, and to let music flow through my hands at Stages. Greg and Wally’s music, mixes, and effects provided all of my cues.”

Photo by Terry Robson, courtesy of Arnie Kliger.

Stages, as all the people I interviewed tell me, was largely defined by its music. The crowds were deep into new sounds, and they were educated by some of the greatest dance-music pioneers this city has ever produced.

“The two DJs who played Stages for years were Greg Howlett and Wally MacDonald, both very good, with very different styles,” says Grace, who danced at Stages during the years when he himself was DJing at venues including Cornelius, the CN Tower’s Sparkles discotheque, and Yorkville’s Bellair Café.

“Wally played lots of weird shit—he liked to wake the crowd up all the time—whereas Greg was the master of the continuous mix. He’d start at 11 o’clock, slowly build the tempo up, and by 4 a.m. he’d be around 140bpm, then start to bring it down. By 5 a.m., he was down below 120 bpm, getting sleazy. It was very trippy and wonderful.”

MacDonald—who DJed during Stages’ earliest years, as did his brother Larry on occasion—was also adored for his impeccable mixing, late-night sleaze sets and devotion to underground disco.

“Wally loved to twist songs around and inside out,” says Barry Harris. “He also used a reel-to-reel tape machine to fuck with people’s heads by using the delay playback, bringing the echo in and out. In 1979, DJ mixers were just mixers; there was no delay, reverb, echo or effects at the time. It was very difficult to even find a mixer to buy, so Wally was doing a lot of really innovative and creative DJing.”

MacDonald was also a pioneering remix artist. He reworked songs like Antonio Rodriguez’s “La Bamba” and Harlow’s “Take Off” into epic extended versions. MacDonald’s masterful remix of Amanda Lear’s “Follow Me” sounds fresh to this day.

“Wally influenced me greatly during my entire DJ and remix career,” says Harris, who started DJing in 1983 at Dudes (whose address, coincidentally, is now home to pro-audio shop Saved By Technology).

“I remember one Sunday, Wally played “At Midnight” by T- Connection,” Harris continues. ”He was playing a reel-to-reel tape version that he had re-edited himself. He extended the big percussion intro and played bits and pieces of ‘I Will Survive’ intro overtop. Now, something like that sounds like no big deal, but at the time, no DJ used to remix anything like this—they simply played the records.

“Another time he played “Heroes” by Big Ben Tribe, then somehow mixed into the original David Bowie version. Brilliant! By the end, the whole crowd started applauding. I had never seen an audience applaud a DJ.”

MacDonald would bounce between clubs as a resident DJ, also playing venues like Sugars, 18 East, The Albany, and Wonder Bar.

Greg Howlett would soon become Stages’ main music man. This former resident DJ at Le Tube was known to play joyful, uplifting dance music, with a lean towards dancefloor classics and disco edits, like “Souvenirs” by Voyage and Yvonne Elliman’s “Love Pains.”

“Greg was our house DJ for at least five years,” enthuses Kliger. “Greg was the star. He had such a following, and an amazing ability to read the crowd and do it right. I trusted him 9,000 per cent.”

“I loved listening to Greg, and I try to emulate him to this day,” offers Grace. “He would play for hours, and you’d never know when one record was going into another. He was so smooth, and really worked at that. He constantly had a new set of stuff he’d play each night.”

DJ Greg Howlett. Photo courtesy of Andrée Emond.

Andrée Emond shares a favourite example of Howlett’s confidence behind the decks.

“I will never forget one evening with Greg. The crowd was particularly bored, so he turned off the turntable and stared at them. They stood there, shocked. Once the drone came to a complete stop, he played their favourite song of the day. Everyone went crazy and the rest of the night was amazing.”

Both Howlett and MacDonald were trendsetters, but took different paths as dance music began to splinter.

“The big ‘disco crash’ occurred around 1979,” Harris explains. “Dance music was fragmenting, and everyone was very confused as to where club music was going. It was the beginning of a new decade, new attitude. New wave was now cool, and disco was not. So the ‘cool’ Stages people followed the trend; my perception is they followed Wally, who really embraced the new sound as a fearless risk-taker. Greg did not follow the new sound, and would not—no way. He was going to stick to what he felt was ‘gay music.’ Greg stuck to his guns, and took a lot of shit and attitude from a lot of people.”

“Wally MacDonald was the only gay club DJ in town playing new dance music that had come out of post-punk or early electronic scenes,” confirms Pyle, author of Toronto punk–history book Trouble in the Camera Club.

“Some songs I distinctly remember being very excited to hear in a gay club were ‘Nowhere Girl’ by B-Movie, ‘I Travel’ by Simple Minds and ‘Numbers’ by Kraftwerk. ‘Numbers’ was always a very late-night track, with the breakdown at the end being used to shift the mood.”

“Stages was an amazing dance club because of the DJs, and when it came to mixing, no one was better than Wally,” enthuses Lena K, former bartender at restaurants like Le Pigale, Cornelius above Gasworks, and a regular at Stages for most of its existence, especially on the eclectic Sunday nights. “I still feel the electricity run through me when I think about Wally’s mixes.”

As the disco-vs.-new-wave battles played out on Stages’ dancefloor during the early ’80s, MacDonald was let go from the club, and then notably rehired in January of 1983.

DJ Wally MacDonald. Photo courtesy of Lorne Goldblum.

Stages had a devoted following. Like all the best nightclubs, it fostered both a feeling and a community.

“I knew what I wanted to see, and have people feel: happy, happy, happy,” says Kliger. “And they were. We had the tambourines, the fan dancers, the whole works going. I made the place and gave people somewhere to express themselves, but the crowd created it for themselves.

“I’m sure some of the drugs contributed to this”—poppers and MDA were the main substances of the day—”but there was a feeling of membership, camaraderie, friendship, love. We fed a feeling, and it worked.”

Pyle also fondly recalls the club’s festive vibe. “It was a very celebratory space. Everyone really got down. I recall men in skirts, cheerleader outfits, fan dancers. There was so much excitement and anticipation.”

Kliger tells the tale of an evening when uniforms were especially prominent: “There was a fetish party one night on Church Street, with everything: guys dressed up in police uniforms, there were bras and garter belts, transsexuals, you name it. We had very heavy theatre-type dry ice at Stages—we didn’t use the cheap smoke—and it creates a very heavy steam. We would pump that place so full of dry-ice smoke that you couldn’t see yourself, with gigantic fans that would suck the air out onto Yonge.

“This night was in January and, when I turned the fans on, some people on the street thought the building was on fire. Toronto Fire responded quickly, came running up the stairs, and I happened to be at the front door. I looked down the stairs and said to Bob, the bouncer, ‘Don’t charge them. They’ve got great outfits.’ I got pushed up against the wall with an axe by a fireman telling me to get out of the way, and then I realized my mistake. Greg, being as sharp as he was, put on the song ‘Fire in my Heart.’”

Lighting man McNicoll also recalls a strategic use of the dry ice machine.

“It wasn’t used all that much, because proper dry ice costs a lot. Back during the days of ‘It’s Raining Men,’ somebody decided to splurge. The dry ice came out over the dancefloor through dryer hoses and billowed down. As soon as it did, everybody opened umbrellas and started dancing around with them. Stages was one of those mad places where every weekend, something happened.”

Photo by Terry Robson, courtesy of Arnie Kliger.

Who else played/worked there: Paul Grace came onboard at Stages after a young Chris Sheppard had brought more new wave to Fridays and a stretch of Sundays.

“Fridays were fairly mixed, a bit trendy, and eventually became more alternative in music and everything else,” explains Kliger. “That’s where Chris came in, later. He ran the Friday switchover to alternative music and club kids in crazy outfits—’Rock Lobster’ and all that kind of stuff. I just didn’t understand it because I’m hardcore gay, but I learned.”

Kliger did understand the allure of late-night socializing, and was equally at home mingling with the owners of clubs including Le Tube and Twilight Zone, as well as TIFF (then still known as the Festival of Festivals) party planners. Stages, in fact, hosted some of the film fest’s earliest parties, with appearances from celebs like Tom Cruise, Peter O’Toole, Richard Chamberlain, and Kathleen Turner.

Tina Turner also paid the club a visit, as did longtime gay favourite Eartha Kitt.

“Eartha Kitt happened to be playing at the Royal York’s Imperial Room—it was at the time that ‘Where Is My Man?’ was big—and I did everything I could to get her up to Stages,” shares Kliger. “We sent flowers, notes, a bottle of scotch, and begged her to come up. We sent a limousine to the Royal York and, sure enough, she bit. Greg had the back-up tracks going and we had a microphone ready, even though she wasn’t engaged to perform. She loved it so much she grabbed the mic and did the song.”

Stages’ staff tended to be just as attractive as the celebs they served.

“The staff and family at Stages were incredible, along with being some of the beautiful men you ever saw,” says Emond, citing people like bartender/manager Andy Armstrong and cashier John Bannerman.

“It was a casting call,” agrees Kliger. “We wanted to have the best-looking people with their shirts off. The bartenders were more than bartenders; they were friendly, they were happy, and, in the middle of the night, if it got hot—and it would get really hot in there—we’d send them out on the dancefloor with trays of watermelon and cantaloupe, oranges, ice, popsicles and water. Clubs didn’t do that.”

Stages bartender Brent Storey, who would later be an integral staffer at gay bar Boots,  was also one of Toronto’s most avid of fan dancers.

“There were a lot of fan dancers at Stages,” says Grace. “When it was busy, they would dance around the edges and, as the night got later, and people started to leave, these guys would start taking over the dancefloor, until finally, the whole floor was full of fan players.”

The fan dancers were a key part of Stages’ core family, and certainly helped to establish the club as decidedly gay at a time when more sexually ambiguous alternative clubs, like Voodoo and Nuts & Bolts, appeared on the scene.

“There was no shortage of places to dance, but nothing could touch Stages—Stages was like finding Mecca,” says Lena K, who now works in the legal field, specializing in intellectual property law. “Although I had gone to other dance clubs, there was no other place where I felt as safe and blissfully free to just be me. I made real friends there, most of whom have been lost to AIDS, but a handful remain and are still friends over 30 years later. That club brought us together every weekend, and that’s some kind of special thing.”

Greg Howlett’s calling card. Courtesy of Andrée Emond.

What happened to it: By 1982, there was talk of GRID, a.k.a. gay-related immune deficiency, later to be known as AIDS. Many in the gay community began to die in this time of great uncertainty.

“The AIDS crisis was just beginning, and people were really afraid,” shares McNicoll, who would later work the lights at clubs including Boots and Chaps. “We were losing a lot of artists and friends, and nobody really knew what was going on, so there was a lot of fear. I think that really had a detrimental effect on club life as a whole. There was a tremendous loss.”

Both Greg Howlett (who would go on to heat dancefloors at clubs including Komrads and Chaps) and Wally MacDonald passed away from HIV-related complications in the 1990s.

“I made and lost many friends at Stages,” says Emond, who later worked the lights at both The Copa and The Diamond, and is now a web developer and teacher. “I still miss the wonderful people I met, and was honoured to play with during that special time. The memories are bittersweet.”

But Stages also closed because Kliger felt it was time.

“It started running out of steam,” he offers. “I felt that what could be done there had already been done, and I was out of themes and ideas. I wanted to take the Stages family out on a high note, so I made the decision that it was best to put a period at the end of a sentence.”

Stages held a final New Year’s Eve party on December 31, 1983 and closed in early 1984. Within weeks, Kliger was hired by the Chrysalis group to transform the former Jarvis Tavern into gay club Bar 101. (Years later, the same space would become Tazmanian Ballroom, home of the infamous Rock & Roll Fag Bar.) Kliger later managed venues including The Copa, Bemelman’s, and the Bellair Café before moving into the hotel business.

Barry Harris would follow Kliger to DJ at both Bar 101 and The Copa, before becoming a resident at Charles Khabouth’s Stilife. He later had a huge production and remix career as half of both Kon Kan and Thunderpuss. More recently, Harris has returned to his rock roots and is working on an as-yet unnamed project.

Paul Grace also became an in-demand producer/remixer, particularly as a member of Boomtang Boys. He then turned his talents to scoring for film and television, was a music consultant for the TV show Queer As Folk, and maintains a home studio.

Before all of this, Grace partnered with Brent Storey and David Strand to re-open the Stages space as Avalon in 1984. About a year later, the upstairs of 530 Yonge briefly reopened as Changes. Both it and The Parkside Tavern below closed in March of 1986 to make way for a Burger King. The building is now a Sobeys Express. [Addendum: the Sobey’s has since closed, with the location listed for retail opportunities.]

Thank you to interviewees Andrée Emond, Arnie Kliger, Barry Harris, Don Pyle, Lena K, Paul Grace, and Richard McNicoll, and to Carlos Mondesir, Eric Robertson, and James Vandervoort. Special mention to Lorne Goldblum for the DJ mixes and to the late Rick Bébout for his Promiscuous Affections documentation of gay Toronto social life.

The post Then & Now: Stages appeared first on Then and Now: Toronto Nightlife History.

Article originally published November 16, 2012 by The Grid online (thegridto.com).

As the Mod Club Theatre turns 10, Then & Now explores the story of how a ‘60s-retro dance night came to spawn a world-class concert and DJ venue, transforming College Street in the process.

BY: DENISE BENSON

Club: Mod Club Theatre, 722 College

Years in operation: 2002-present

History: To share the history of how The Mod Club Theatre came to be, one must first trace College Street’s evolution as a nightlife destination. The stretch of College running west of Bathurst to Dovercourt has, of course, long been a hub for Italian, Portuguese and Latino communities. Restaurants and cafés have dotted the strip for decades—with Café Diplomatico at College and Clinton serving as a landmark spot for over 40 years—but it wasn’t until the 1990s that people began to open a broader array of venues that would entertain into the wee hours.

El Convento Rico—originally a haven for Latin gays, lesbians and transgendered people—opened in 1992, bringing dancing and drag shows to College and Crawford. The early-to-mid ’90s also saw the opening of spots including Souz Dal, College Street Bar, Ted’s Collision, and Alex Lifeson’s live music venue The Orbit Room. Intimate café 52 Inc. fed, entertained and politicized on the other side of Bathurst from 1995-2000, while Bar Italia opened on College in 1996 and Ted Footman launched Ted’s Wrecking Yard and Barcode—two floors of live music in one building—in 1997.

Musician Dan Kurtz—formerly of The New Deal and currently of Dragonette—knows the area well.

“When I moved to Canada as a little kid, I lived at College and Bathurst, and spent most of my childhood in the neighborhood,” he says. “As an adult, I bought a house on Beatrice and renovated it, just a year or two before things really began to heat up on the strip. I did that a couple more times with houses in the neighborhood before I moved out and, during that time, College Street became the hottest place to hang out. It was a great mix of a really authentic, old-school and virtually unchanged Italian and Portuguese neighbourhood by day, and an increasingly broad mix of great and cheesy bars and restaurants at night.

“My friends, my band, and most of my family lived in the neighborhood at that time, and it was probably one of the best times of my life,” he adds. In the late ’90s, Kurtz performed at venues like Ted’s, Bar Italia, and Orbit Room while a member of bands including Que Vida.

“At the time, almost every show I played was memorable, since my bands were just coming up,” says Kurtz. “Getting a good gig on College was some measure of legitimacy.”

Lava Lounge, at 507 College just west of Palmerston, added much to the strip. Opened in September 1997 by former Rivoli staffers Greg Bottrell and Rob Eklove (with support from The Rivoli and Queen Mother Café owners Andre Rosenbaum and David Stearn), Lava Lounge was located in the former home of Portuguese family restaurant Cheers. Bottrell and crew transformed it into a resto-lounge, club, and patio licensed for 270 people, making Lava one of the largest spots on College at that time.

“College seemed like a cool up-and-coming area,” recalls Bottrell. “But when we first opened, there was not that much happening on the street. It hadn’t blossomed yet.”

Their timing was good, as the area soon exploded. Hip new spots dotted the landscape, with venues ranging from the super cool (Ciao Edie) to student-centric (Midtown) to pool halls (Clear Spot, later Andy Poolhall), all featuring DJs.

“The late 1990s to 2005 was College Street’s heyday,” says Bottrell, who also opened Asian fusion restaurant Tempo at College and Clinton in 2000. “It was the hip and happening restaurant, patio, and bar area in those years—along with a few clubs, Lava Lounge being one of them.”

Lava featured both live music and DJs from its start. Resident DJs included the likes of Fish Fry, Mike Tull and Tony Lanz, Shawn MacDonald, and John Kong, while Tuesdays were known for the live soul-jazz of Thomas Reynolds and Shugga, often accompanied by vocalist Divine Earth Essence (now Divine Brown).

Bobbi Guy (left) and Mark Holmes, circa 1999. Photo by Edward Pond.

In October of 1999, a new Wednesday weekly dubbed Mod Club launched at Lava Lounge. Helmed by friends and British expats Mark Holmes (also known as the vocalist in Platinum Blonde) and Bobbi Guy, the Mod Club nights were inspired by shared obsessions and, partly, the success of Davy Love’s Blow Up Saturdays, then held at The El Mocambo.

“I went to the U.K. with my friend Bobbi in 1999 and, on our way back to Toronto, we hatched this plan for something totally different than Blow Up,” says Holmes, at the beginning of a lengthy phone interview.

“So many bands, like Blur and Oasis, were talking about the influence of all these ’60s bands, and I thought that if people were interested in those bands, they might be interested in where the music came from. I was an absolute 1960s fanatic; I had VHS tapes of The Prisoner, The Avengers, The Saint, and I was crazy about the music, the clothing, everything. I just wished so heavily that I could transport myself back into that time.”

They did the next best thing. Guy designed the Mod Club logo, the pair promoted around town, and soon they were projecting 1960s British imagery while spinning deep collections of Motown, soul, R&B and mod bands in the similarly styled Lava Lounge.

The original Mod Club sign, outside Lava Lounge. Photo courtesy of Mark Holmes.

“Basically, you were in a time capsule the moment you walked in,” says Holmes. “I loved every last magical minute of it.

“Everybody came out dressed like the ’60s; all the guys had suits, all the girls had Vidal Sassoon haircuts. And then it just exploded. After a few Wednesdays, the lineup was down the street. I got my wish: every Wednesday, I got to go back into the ’60s.”

“That night was just a great scene,” agrees Bottrell. “People looked the part. They had scooters, Fred Perry, Ben Sherman. It was a good-looking, young, and—because it was mid-week—downtown crowd. The music with Mark and Bobbi was wicked. People danced their asses off.”

The scene inside Mod Club Wednesdays at Lava Lounge. Photo courtesy of Mark Holmes.

Mod Club packed Lava every Wednesday until the club was forced to close in spring of 2004. The building it was in would be torn down to make way for the huge  href=”http://condos.ca/condominiums/toronto-the-europa-308-palmerston-ave” target=”_blank”>Europa condo building of today.

“We’d signed a regular corporation lease, which had a ‘demolition clause’ in it,” Bottrell explains. “Back then, no one would have predicted that such a condo boom was on the horizon. Also, no one would have guessed that people would demolish a more than one-hundred-year-old building that took up most of a city block to build a bigger and brand new condo.”

By fall of 2004, Bottrell opened Supermarket in Kensington Market. Guy and Holmes continued there for many months of soul-soaked Mod Club Wednesdays.

“I remember one night at Supermarket, Ryan Gosling and Rachel McAdams were in and requested some slow music,” begins Guy. “We obliged, and the whole bar looked on as they re-enacted The Notebook on the dancefloor. We played about six slow songs while they just made out, without a care in the world. Another night there, a guy came into the booth with a weird accent and complimented me on my Hammond groove set, then looked through my CDs. I gave him some tickets to go get us drinks, and watched as he lined up for 10 minutes at the bar. He returned, and then introduced himself as Tiesto. Nice bloke.”

The first Mod Club go-go dancers at Revival. Photo by Trevor Roberts.

But the Mod Club story also takes us back to College Street, and mirrors its growth. In November 2001, while still holding down Wednesdays at Lava, Guy and Holmes also launched a Saturday Mod Club weekly at newly opened Revival Bar.

Opened by Domenic Tedesco and chef-turned-restaurateur Joe Saturnino, Revival is housed in a beautiful building at the corner of College and Shaw that was once a Baptist church, and later a Polish legion hall. Having been a partner in Italian fine-dining restaurant Veni, Vidi, Vici, which also attracted a later night crowd, Saturnino saw the writing on the wall.

“College Street had always been vibrant,” he says. “But Revival opened at a time when a new adult crowd was taking over. It was a young professional crowd looking for new places to go to.”

Revival gave that crowd food, DJs, and live music. Mod Club Saturdays attracted thousands to College Street and packed Revival for three years.

DJs DaSilva and Benny K. Photo by Trevor Roberts.

Guy and Holmes spent Saturday afternoons putting up banners, sorting décor, and tweaking sound in anticipation of their capacity crowds. There were mod go-go dancers, confetti cannons, big lighting effects, and live acts that included both locals and touring artists like The Dandy Warhols, who performed an acoustic set.

“My main focus was to discover new music and also go around finding bands to play on our Saturday nights in front of a full house,” describes Guy. “That gave me the most pleasure, giving young bands an opportunity to play on such a stage.”

“We made it into a massive rock show,” says Holmes, who DJed alongside Guy and a cast of characters including Boozecan Bob, Taylor & Gedge, Benny K, DJ Da Silva, and Jesse F. Keeler.

“Upstairs on Saturdays, there was a more modern sound comprised of Britpop, and the newly emerging electro sounds coming out of the U.K.,” recalls Guy. “For the diehards, there was ’60s soul and Hammond groove in the basement.”

Guy and Holmes at Revival. Photo by Trevor Roberts.

“I think in Mark and Bobbi’s minds, the basement was going to be the part that was more like the Wednesdays, and I know I certainly broke that rule, but within context,” chuckles Jesse F. Keeler during a phone chat. “I’d start playing ska, dub, and old reggae in the last hour.

“People wanted to be challenged,” adds Keeler, who’d also been a regular attendee at the Mod Club Wednesdays. “I had a lot of people come up and say, ‘I had no idea that that rap song was a sample until you played that song.’ It was a fun sample school to run for people.”

Keeler was a resident until the band he was most heavily involved in at the time—Death From Above 1979—began to tour regularly and he missed a month of Saturdays. “I walked in one night, ready to go, and there were new guys I’d never seen before in the basement.”

By this time, the Mod Club weeklies were a phenomenon that would soon spawn a now internationally recognized club and concert venue.

Guy and Holmes DJ the opening night of the Mod Club Theatre, November 2002. Photo by Trevor Roberts.

The birth of the Mod Club Theatre: In early 2002, Revival was closed for two weeks because of a liquor-licence infraction.

“We took our scheduled shows across the street, to Corner Pocket,” says Revival’s Saturnino of the pool hall that operated out of 722 College at the time. “Dom and I showed Bruno Sinopoli how to transform his place into a club.”

“It had been a club, and before that it had been some kind of theatre, with the stage and everything,” says Holmes of the space. “I walked around upstairs and thought it was amazing, like in that scene from Quadrophenia when the guy jumped off the balcony into the crowd. It was a beautiful place, but just so gross inside at the time.”

The Mod Club nights would go on to pack both venues on Saturdays for years, with DJs and dancers darting back-and-forth across the street from Corner Pocket to Revival.

Early into their run at both venues, Holmes was inspired.

“I got to thinking that the reason people were going to Lava on Wednesdays and Saturdays at Revival was for Mod Club so I said, ‘What would it be like if I had a place that is The Mod Club? What would it take?’

“A little while later, I made a deal with [Corner Pocket owner] Bruno, put all my money in, and designed the whole place on my laptop. I gave that to the builders, and we built The Mod Club Theatre. People were worried that it would be such a gamble, but I felt I had to keep moving forward.”

Bobbi Guy, boxer Lennox Lewis, and Mark Holmes on opening night. Photo by Trevor Roberts.

The Mod Club Theatre officially opened doors in November 2002. Bobbi Guy recalls a fave moment from the first night.

“[British-Canadian world heavyweight boxing champion] Lennox Lewis had been invited, and came with his entourage of large humans. I knew he was a West Ham United fan so we started talking about some old faces we both knew back in London. We ended up singing West Ham songs arm in arm, much to the bemusement of his troops.”

Why it’s important: “I think, mainly, we gave club-goers a different option from what was happening elsewhere in the city,” says Guy, a main Saturday resident DJ until early 2010. “People were weary of going to the club district for a good night out. We were in a lot safer area, but were just as deadly on the dancefloor. College Street was a quiet place till we showed up; now look at it.

As for the venue itself, Mod Club Theatre brought a professional 700-capacity club and concert space to College Street.

“It raised the bar for sound and lighting,” states Holmes. “I wanted a place where you could see bands in a beautiful surrounding, with fantastic lights and sound, and where you could sit down without getting chewing gum stuck to the seat of your trousers.”

Early on, films such as 2001: A Space Odyssey screened, but Mod Club Saturdays remained the main draw. Fridays were initially launched as glam night Velvet Goldmine, with Joan Jett flown in to guest DJ at the opening. Crystal Castles’ Ethan Kath was a Friday resident DJ, back in the days when he still answered to “Claudio.”

Holmes also worked to establish Mod Club Theatre as a concert spot, reaching out to event producers including Against The Grain (now Collective Concerts). After Muse performed at the club on a Saturday in April 2004, concert bookings poured in. Area restaurants, like neighbours Il Gatto Nero, benefited from the business.

Muse’s Matt Bellamy gets acquainted with the Mod Club’s bar. Photo by Trevor Roberts

Above all, Mod Club Theatre is highly versatile as a venue.

“Mod Club is fantastic from a technical perspective, with amazing sound, production, and sight lines,” says Adam Gill, founder of event production company Embrace. “It’s an amazing live/concert room, but also works great for DJ/electronic-type events.”

“The first time I went to Mod Club Theatre was on a Saturday,” recalls DJ/producer and A.D/D Events co-founder Mario Jukica. “Mark really blew me away with the level of production he was doing, creating an exciting atmosphere that relied heavily on the use of video technology and pyrotechnics.

“I was impressed as it felt a bit like a concert. The tech team, led by Mark Prinsloo, had the ability to set the stage for a live band and tear down within minutes, then set up a DJ platform centre stage. This gave me a lot of ideas, and made me really want to work with them.”

It’s this very versatility—and group of people—that made Mod Club Theatre one of the global hubs for the merger of rock and electro.

From 2003 to 2007, Holmes a.k.a. DJ MRK, programmed and played the highly rated Mod Club radio show, broadcast live on 102.1 The Edge, Thursdays from 11 p.m. to 2 a.m. Guy also introduced three new tracks each week.

“That’s when the music scene really changed,” says Holmes; “It’s when the whole indie band mixed with electronic music idea moved forward. Necessity is the mother of invention. We were – Bobbi especially – very much in contact with a lot of British DJs who would send him stuff. I had an idea to bring the indie crowd and the dance crowd in to the same place, and I worked on that with quite a few people. That’s how the radio show got started. Then A.D/D came in after that and started solidifying that whole vibe. Then the whole scene exploded.

“Obviously that happened all over the world, but when I think back to the radio shows, we had to make our own music. We bootlegged indie tracks and mixed them with electronic music. It was great because people at The Edge started getting requests for songs they’d never heard of and never playlisted. I had control of the music for the live-to-air because I was the DJ. It was like witnessing the birth of a new scene.”

Toronto’s Crystal Castles and MSTRKRFT both formed during this time period, and both played the live-to-air with Holmes.

MSTRKRFT backstage at the Mod Club Theatre. Photo by Trevor Roberts.

“That’s how I reconnected with Mark,” says Keeler, the Mod Club-at-Revival resident DJ who’d become half of MSTRKRFT. “I found out he was playing and championing music from both MSTRKRFT and Death From Above. At one point, he asked if I wanted to DJ the live-to-air. I pulled no punches that night. It was MSTRKRFT, and we played the same way we would have in England or anywhere else in the world at the time.”

“Mark took a lot of chances with the music he played through such a commercial medium as 102.1,” confirms Jukica. “Hearing artists like LCD Soundsystem and Mylo on the radio was refreshing. It definitely helped expose the music we were championing at our parties.”

By late 2004, Jukica and Eve Fiorillo were producing parties under the banner of A.D/D at Mod Club Theatre. They booked local DJs including Barbi and Rory Them Finest, and presented themed events like Return To New York, with Arthur Baker, and I Love Neon, with guests including Tiga. A.D/D also had tight ties with influential French electronic label Ed Banger, presenting many of their artists, including at the infamous Daft Punk afterparty of August 2007.

“That was, for sure, our highlight at that venue,” says Jukica, who also DJs as Milano. “Seeing them at the party unmasked until the bitter end, when the club was empty, was special. All the Ed Banger related events had an incredible energy level.”

A.D/D would later take their bookings and colourful, post-raver crowd to CiRCA for their Randomland Fridays, but when that concluded in summer 2009, Adam Gill and Embrace stepped in to fill the void by presenting the musically related Arcade Fridays at Mod Club Theatre.

Arcade Fridays crowd. Photo by James Drobik.

Over Arcade’s two-plus-years, Embrace highlighted locals like Milano, Meech, Poupon, Gingy and Bordello, Andy Ares, St. Mandrew, DJ Medley and Auto Erotique while also presenting weekly international guests. That impressive roster of names includes Simian Mobile Disco, Claude Von Stroke, Zedd, Laidback Luke, Rusko, Toddla T, and Trentemoller, who presented a most incredible live band show in April 2011.

“Arcade had a great run, and there were so many good nights, but Benga was a special one,” recalls Gill. “It was when dubstep was still a very new and fresh sound, and was a very cool night of music. Wolfgang Gartner was insane; the place went absolutely nuts for him. Fake Blood on our one-year anniversary might have been the best night there though. People went crazy.”

Keeler—who has DJed Mod Club multiple times as part of MSTRKRFT—has another favourite from the venue’s Friday night history.

“I really liked when Vitalic played there live—both times, but the first one was really special. The crowd was really receptive for someone like Vitalic, who doesn’t fit in a box real easy. He’s not a pop guy by any means, but it was just rammed. For a while, Fridays had such a dedicated crowd that seemed to really enjoy a big spectrum. The first time I saw Torro Torro play was there, and I was super impressed.”

Amy Winehouse (centre) with husband Blake Fielder-Civil and Mark Holmes, backstage in 2007. Photo by Trevor Roberts.

Who else has played/worked there: “Mod Club Theatre was the Cadillac of gigs on the College strip, and it was the best-sounding room to play, too—in no small part due to Mark Prinsloo and his good ears,” says Dan Kurtz. “The first New Deal and Dragonette shows there felt like big deals.”

The New Deal, in fact, staged their high profile 2009 CD release show at the club, and Dragonette has chosen to perform there multiple times.

“I feel that with Dragonette in particular, we kind of became legit at our shows at the Mod Club Theatre, at least as performers. We liked how we sounded, and how our shows looked. It felt, I suppose, big.

“It was also the first place I ever DJed at, which was terrifying, but we [Kurtz and Dragonette drummer Joel Stouffer] drank our entire rider before we started, so we felt pretty awesome about 15 seconds into it. I also saw a Feist show there that I just loved. It was a perfect venue for her intimate style of performance.”

The list of artists who’ve performed at Mod Club Theatre is both impressive and enormous. For electronic music fans, live shows by both Booka Shade and Modeselektor are highly memorable. Amy Winehouse performed two heartrending sold-out shows in May of 2007. K’naan launched his Troubadour CD there in 2009, while The Weeknd made its live debut on the same stage in 2011. And, of course, dozens of British acts of all musical stripes—from Paul Weller to Kaiser Chiefs to Mike Skinner—have headlined.

Embrace, Collective Concerts, Live Nation, and other concert promoters continue to book in shows, making Mod Club’s listings ones to watch.

And when it comes to staff, longtime manager Jorge Dias is another frequently credited principal player; he, Prinsloo, and Bruno Sinopoli were also the key figures behind the transformation of the Queen Elizabeth Theatre.

“The Mod Club staff is amazing,” Jukica summarizes. “They buzzed really hard on the nights of our shows, and were a major reason for the electric vibe in the room.”

Mark Holmes with Mike Skinner a.k.a. The Streets. Photo by Trevor Roberts.

The here & now: The venue now technically known as Virgin Mobile Mod Club, thanks to a 2011 sponsorship deal, celebrates a decade in business this weekend. Many credit the club’s success largely to Holmes.

“Mark has vision, and he succeeds at doing things right,” says Bottrell, who continues to happily operate Supermarket. “He has an artist’s eye for detail, and he sure is bang-on with wanting the best in lighting, sound, and visuals.”

“There’s not a lot of spaces that are made that intelligently, or places where people care that much about sound—despite what they might tell you,” agrees Keeler, who spoke while on a break from working on a new Death From Above 1979 album that’s nearing completion. “Everything I’ve ever seen at Mod Club has sounded great. I’m always impressed by that.”

Saturday night at The Mod Club Theatre. Photo Trevor Roberts.

As for Saturnino, he appreciates the ties between his venue and Mod Club.

“Both places have different identities,” he says, pointing to Revival’s blend of burlesque, bands, and soul and house-heavy sounds.

“Having another [sizable] club has given people more choices, and helped make our entire area better for business.”

“That such a residential neighbourhood, with small neighbourhood shops, could also have such a first-class venue, with world-class artists playing there on a weekly basis, makes that part of Toronto truly fantastic,” concurs Kurtz.

Mod Club’s 10th anniversary party this Saturday (Nov. 17) features guests including Dr. Draw and DJ Jelo, alongside current U.K. Underground Saturday residents MRK and Tigerblood. The Saturday sounds may have changed over the years, but the song remains the same.

“The Mod Club means ‘modernist’ and to be a modernist, one must embrace the future, embrace technology, and search for and present the new all the time,” says Holmes, now also busy with the recently reformed Platinum Blonde.

“The times change, and the scenes change. We still spin some Britpop tracks and the crowd loves them, but it’s 10 years later, and it’s different music. Now it’s other kids’ time to make their history, their time capsule.”

Thank you to Adam Gill, Bobbi Guy, Dan Kurtz, Greg Bottrell, Jesse Keeler, Joe Saturnino, Mario Jukica and Mark Holmes.

The post Then & Now: Mod Club appeared first on Then and Now: Toronto Nightlife History.

Article originally published October 22, 2012 by The Grid online (thegridto.com).

In this edition of her Toronto-nightlife history series, Denise Benson revisits the biggest, most ambitious, and most fatally expensive nightclub the city has ever seen.

BY: DENISE BENSON

Club: CiRCA, 126 John St.

Years in operation: 2007-2010

History: The four-storey heritage property at 126 John St. has housed many businesses since its main structure was built in 1886. Originally, it was the site of John Burns Carriage Manufacturers, followed by other industrial-machinery companies.

By the early 2000s, the 53,000-square-foot space was an anchor for play in Toronto’s bustling Entertainment District. Mondo video arcade Playdium gave way to mega-dance club Lucid in 2004. The heavily hyped commercial club lasted only a year; its doors were locked in July 2005 when more than $400,000 in back rent was owed to landlord RioCan. (You just don’t mess with Canada’s largest retail real-estate firm.)

Enter New York City club magnate Peter Gatien. The Cornwall, Ontario native had moved to Toronto in 2003, following deportation from the United States. Gatien is, of course, one of the world’s most famous nightclub impresarios, having owned deeply imaginative and influential N.Y.C. hot spots including Limelight, Tunnel, Club USA, and Palladium during his 30-year career.

The one-time millionaire’s very public fall has been well documented in both print and film. To recap: New York police and the Drug Enforcement Agency (DEA) pursued Gatien relentlessly in a 1996 federal investigation that attempted to directly link him with the sale of street drugs, particularly ecstasy, in his clubs. Gatien was acquitted, and then later arrested on tax-evasion charges, to which he pled guilty.

Once in Toronto, Gatien—later joined by wife Alessandra and their son Xander—was interested in exploring a boutique-hotel concept. He tells me during a recent phone interview that a RioCan representative approached him in a park, during a dog walk, in the fall of 2005, and requested that Gatien pay a visit to 126 John.

“I said I didn’t want to do a club, but agreed to go look at it,” he recounts. “Then I saw the space, knew there was a lot of potential, and got excited. I loved the fact that it was large, had high ceilings, and many rooms. There was the ability to have a number of different spaces and soundsystems, and cater to a real cross-section of society.

“It was the right opportunity,” Gatien summarizes, adding that his interest also lay in the fact that “Toronto has a really large creative community. There’s a lot of art here, a lot of fashion, a lot of music comes out of this city, and you need this to sustain what I like my clubs to be.”

Peter Gatien at CiRCA, still under construction, in May 2006. Photo: Charla Jones/Toronto Star.

Gatien’s enthusiasm to develop what would become CiRCA nightclub led to an initial partnership with the men of Hingson Corp, former owners of failed evening spots including Eight Below, Banzai Sushi, and Fez Batik. A 10-year lease commencing April 1, 2006 was signed, with monthly rent averaging over $135,000. Their business relationship fell apart about eight months in. While Hingson made off with the original website URL, Gatien and his team sought investors and worked to build a superclub that promised to be both spectacular and open by summer of 2006.

Litigation lawyer Ari Kulidjian, who’d advised Gatien during his split from Hingson Corp, became Gatien’s equal partner in Arena Entertainment, the new driving force behind CiRCA. Kulidjian became a co-director, shareholder, creditor and Chairman of Arena’s Board of Directors while Gatien served as co-director and president.

The pressure was on, with costs mounting. Although Kulidjian would help secure more than a dozen key investors—including financier Stephan Katmarian, who also become a co-director in Arena Entertainment—the club’s opening was delayed for more than a year. The Alcohol and Gaming Commission of Ontario (AGCO) was hesitant to grant a liquor licence. It held hearings, deferred the decision and, after finally awarding a license in July of 2007, took the unusual step of appealing its own verdict. (Courts later dismissed the appeal and ordered the ACGO to pay CiRCA damages for legal fees.) It’s thought that the City’s concerns about the Entertainment District—specifically the rowdy throngs that packed nightclubs on weekends—played a role in the hold-up.

“I don’t know if it was even so much directed at us,” ventures Gatien. “I think councillor Adam Vaughan’s plan for the area was to not have clubs and [the City] seemed to feel that if CiRCA was successful, it might keep clubs in the Entertainment District.”

Whatever the reasoning, that process and the resulting year’s delay forced Gatien and company to take out ridiculously expensive bridge financing and other loans—some at rates higher than 30 per cent—to stay afloat.

“They were paying rent and staff for more than a year, without any income,” explains Orin Bristol, a former manager at Toronto’s Limelight (no connection to Gatien’s namesake New York club) and System Soundbar who would be hired as CiRCA’s first general manager in July of 2007. “DJs, bookings, suppliers—everything had to be put on hold. Deposits were lost, and relationships were strained.”

A number of optimistic opening dates came and went, with artists including Gary Numan, DJ Tiesto, and Junior Vasquez all booked for shows that had to be cancelled. Talented staff members, like former Drake Hotel entertainment director Jeff Rogers, left before the club opened because pay wasn’t always available. Hired by Gatien to curate music and art, Rogers did manage to book an exhibit of Bruce LaBruce photos and bring event promoters A.D/D. into the fold before departing for a career in music management and television. (He’s now Music Director at AUX TV.)

Other early CiRCA team members—including New York interior designers AvroKO and Travis Bass, N.Y.C./Toronto designer and art director Kenny Baird, Kidrobot founder Paul Budnitz, event promoters Craig Pettigrew, Mario J, Eve Fiorillo, and Rolyn Chambers, and manager/promoter Steve Ireson—helped ready the club and spread the word around the city.

On Oct. 4, 2007—one-and-a-half years, over $6 million, and a whole lot of anticipation later—thousands packed CiRCA’s opening night, largely oblivious to the mad scramble behind scenes.

“We were literally bringing liquor in the back door as the front door was opening, because we had only gotten our licence, allowing us to purchase liquor, that day,” Gatien recalls. “Seeing it all come together after all of the energy and the effort from so many people was very gratifying.”

Mario J at Randomland. Photo courtesy of Eve Fiorillo.

Why it was important: “Peter’s vision brought a certain excitement that only he can bring,” says longtime DJ/producer and former co-owner of Industry Nightclub Mario Jukica, hired to promote Randomland Fridays with A.D/D. production partner Fiorillo.

“Toronto never had such a buzz about any club opening before,” he enthuses. “The climate at the time was completely stale; other clubs in the city had no forward-thinking vision, and that’s why we created such a stir. People were ready for something next-level.”

CiRCA—Gatien’s first Canadian club venture since he left for the U.S. in the late 1970s—was the largest club in the country, both in scope and size. It was also a massively innovative addition to the rapidly changing Entertainment District, by then far more known for fights and public drunkenness than cutting-edge culture.

“The important thing to me in creating a club is to recognize that we’re there for one sole purpose and it’s to create culture, whether through art, music, or fashion,” says Gatien of his impetus. “You want to be an instigator for culture, and you want to have as many creative people as possible in there, exchanging ideas and having a good time.”

At CiRCA, these exchanges took place in seven distinct spaces: the Kidrobot room, Mirror Ballroom, Washroom Bar, Fathom22 Bar, Sensacell Bar, Cinema Lounge, and the massive Main Room. Each was its own wonderland, worthy of exploration and awe. Then there was the brilliant VIP Cube (impossible not to gawk at), the art-filled entranceway, and various connecting corridors, each a trip in their own right. (Details and photos of each room, along with archived event photos and more can still be viewed on CiRCA’s website.)

“The concept was to provide a space for everyone to feel comfortable within a huge space—to build clubs within a club and create an atmosphere for a healthy mix of people to interact with each other, in and out of their comfort zones,” says CiRCA’s artistic director, Kenny Baird. “Entertainment comes from within, from strange and fun experiences, and the exchange of personalities.”

A fellow Cornwall native who grew up near Gatien and would be reacquainted with him in 1980s New York, Baird is a great talent who was largely responsible for what we saw, touched, and snapped photos of at CiRCA.

Baird’s distinctive aesthetic and impressive work history made him an ideal fit for CiRCA. His C.V. ranges from graphic layout for Toronto art collective General Idea’s File magazine to design of Toronto clubs including Charles Khabouth’s Stilife, co-designing landmark Manhattan social spaces including Area, Club USA and The Maritime Hotel, and working as production designer or art director in films, commercials, and music videos for the likes of Bowie, Nine Inch Nails, and Leonard Cohen.

He split his time between the club’s interior-design and art installations, and assembled an in-house art department—complete with its own budget, staff, workshop area, tools, and materials—to cloak the club in regularly updated themes, like “fetish,” “carny sideshow,” and “heroes and villains.”

“The attention to artistic detail and décor within the venue made CiRCA stand out from any other club that I had been to in Toronto,” offers veteran party producer Pat Boogie. He first came to the club as a patron, then worked as a marketing manager from June 2008 to June 2009. “The look of the club was constantly changing, with different themes carried throughout the space, including showcase windows in the front of the venue and in the main entrance hallway—many times complete with live models!”

CiRCA hallway featuring Kenny Baird’s art. Photo: Lucas Oleniuk/Toronto Star.

“The actual physical space was horrible,” recalls Bristol, who’d initially hesitated to work at CiRCA. “It was cavernous and looked like a shopping centre, with too many floors and winding hallways. But when you took Peter’s vision, added a whole lot of Kenny Baird’s brilliance—his mannequins in the washroom hallways are still the coolest things I’ve ever seen in a nightclub—excellent promotions, and a whole lot of hype and expectation, it became a magical kingdom. CiRCA was a giant departure from the norm.”

Gatien is clear as to why: “I learned at a very young age that it’s not a matter of having miles of neon chrome, spinning wheels, lasers, and that kind of shit. You can make that kind of exciting, but the art component and the installations [at CiRCA] were really museum-quality with the thought that went behind them. On a related note, you may not make a lot of profit from art and fashion events, but you maintain or add to your credibility with the real trendsetters and the creative community in your city.”

Just as important, Gatien recognized that, to fill his 3,000-capacity club and pay the bills, CiRCA would need to host a range of events and communities. A.D/D’s Randomland Fridays were meant to attract an edgy and diverse downtown crowd while Pettigrew and his GEM Events presented Traffic Saturdays, hugely popular with deep-pocketed suburbanites, socialites, and celebrities.

Bristol gives a revealing overview: “Saturdays were your typical hot new club crowd in Toronto. There were 3,500 to 4,000 well=dressed people, mostly 905ers, and a lot of bottle service. Booths went for $1,500 to $5,000 on a regular basis, and we had several high rollers who came through and spent obscene amounts.

“On Fridays it was a totally different story; we only did around 2,000 to 2,500 people maximum on this night, but it was amazing. The crowd was incredibly diverse: young, old, black, white, Asian, straight, gay, bi, trans, hipsters, b-boys, artsy, goths—it was nuts. The music was eclectic, and we had a nightly costume parade where you could see Gumby dancing with Raggedy Andy. The crowd seemed to not notice or care about their differences; they were there to party.”

In 2007, A.D/D was the hottest and hippest underground party-production company in town. Jukica and Fiorillo headed the post-rave electro movement in T.O., and were ready to lead their colourful crowd to a large venue.

“At Randomland, you could show up dressed as an alien or whatever you wanted, and it would be considered normal—just as I think it should be at a proper nightclub, in a healthy nightlife,” says Fiorillo. “We wanted to create a fantasy world, with characters that lived there, and have a random theme every week so that we could play with different ideas and people would always be caught off-guard.”

Along with bouncy castles, regulars who dressed in costumes, and a weekly parade of characters who “would sparkle down the two flights of escalators” in CiRCA’s main room, there was a musical mix of electro, techno, house, hip-hop, disco, and more.

“Randomland was a culmination of the past, present, and future of electronic live acts and DJs,” summarizes Jukica.

DJ Barbi and Randomland friends. Photo courtesy of Eve Fiorillo.

Fun at Randomland. Photo courtesy of Eve Fiorillo.

Random fun. Photo courtesy of Eve Fiorillo.

Randomland DJs Rynecologist (left) and Kid X. Photo by John Mitchell (http://derinkuyu.ca/).

Local DJs including Barbi, Andy Ares, Rynecologist, Filthy Gorgeous, and Kid X (a.k.a. the Gatiens’ young son Xander) played regularly in different rooms while then-rising Toronto duos Crystal Castles and Thunderheist both performed live. Most weeks boasted big names in the underground, ranging from Diplo, Cut Copy, Kavinsky, Moderat, and Simian Mobile Disco to Kevin Saunderson, ?uestlove, and DJ Premier.

Randomland also benefited heavily from the sizable gay crowd that Rolyn Chambers, a FAB magazine columnist in addition to his CiRCA duties, and Steve Ireson attracted while collaborating with fellow promoters like Matt Sims and Daniel McBride.

Promoter Matt Sims. Photo by John Mitchell.

The spacious and sexy Mirror Ballroom came to be seen as “the gay room” as Chambers and Ireson programmed local queer DJs like Mark Falco, Jamal, and Dwayne Minard and performers including Lena Love, Sofonda, and Gia.

“I once rented a scissor lift for Lena Love’s performance in the Mirror Ballroom,” recalls Chambers. “She and her 50-foot white skirt were lifted to the roof of the building. Gia’s winter performance in 2007 was also a highlight. I rented a snow machine, which created a blizzard for her show. We left it on all night and watched as people danced under the falling snow.”

Lena Love (right) in the Mirror Ballroom. Photo courtesy of Rolyn Chambers.

“The Mirror Ballroom on Friday nights was a great success,” adds Ireson. “It was always packed, and often ended up pulling adventurous people from the Main Room where Randomland was happening.”

Chambers, in fact, feels this is why he was let go from CiRCA nine months after it opened, claiming that “Eve and Mario wanted to close the Mirror Ballroom because they felt the night was becoming too gay.”

Fiorillo, writing independently of Chambers’ comment, states that A.D/D “wanted our night to be evenly mixed. Our intention wasn’t to segregate the crowd.”

For his part, Jukica most recalls the night’s overall vibe: “In Randomland, we created an intensely excited atmosphere for a generation of kids that will not be forgotten. I have just as many people come up to me to say how that was the most exciting period of their lives for clubbing as I do for Industry. If you were 19-to-25 in Toronto during Randomland, and went there, you know what I mean.”

For Traffic Saturdays, Pettigrew and his GEM team—which also included DJ/promoter Nitin Kalyan, Darren Arcane, Nikita Stanley, and others—had different goals entirely.

“We really wanted to produce a cool house-music vibe that was more like a Pacha Ibiza or LIV Miami, so it was more focussed on tables and booze,” says Pettigrew, who’d come up promoting parties at Toronto clubs including Limelight, System Soundbar, and Turbo.

James Doman (left) and Craig Pettigrew. Photo by John Mitchell (http://derinkuyu.ca/)

Pettigrew also DJed at Traffic, along with DJ/producer James Doman. Now based in Los Angeles, Doman broke out as a producer with his duo Doman & Gooding during his time at CiRCA. The video for their 2009 club smash “Runnin’” was filmed primarily in the club’s VIP areas.

Saturdays were all about living large: big crowds dancing to big room sounds, with big-name DJs frequently on deck. Traffic featured huge DJ names, including David Guetta, Tiesto, and Bob Sinclar. Pettigrew recalls two personal favourites.

“Danny Tenaglia played some marathon sets; I wouldn’t leave the club till 3 p.m. the next day! Those nights were really special. The [October 2008] Carl Cox night was insane. I’ll never forget that party because Carl really turned it out, and people were just in the mood to party. The vibe was explosive.”

Who else played/worked there: CiRCA hosted a number of concerts, many of which are talked about to this day. French duo Justice performed to a frantic Thursday-night audience, just two weeks after CiRCA opened. Lupe Fiasco, Kanye West, Pharrell Williams, Rihanna, and others all shared the stage in March 2008. Wyclef Jean performed months later. Lady Gaga’s November 2008 show was her first in Toronto.

The crowd at the October 2007 Justice show. By John Mitchell Photography (http://derinkuyu.ca/)

Crookers, DJ Sneak, and Funkmaster Flex all DJed at CiRCA. Pat Boogie also booked in deeper house DJs including Dennis Ferrer, Martinez Brothers, and FilSonik. Popular local hip-hop, R&B, and Top 40 DJ Baba Kahn held court on Thursday nights for a period (and would later be booked as the main resident at commercial night Reason Fridays, where he was joined by the likes of Pitbull).

Chambers also proudly recalls high profile arts-based events that he helped co-ordinate.

“Having Greta Constantine’s fashion show at the club was a huge coup for CiRCA. Having the first-ever Kidrobot fashion show was also a major triumph. We were able to work with 20 prominent Canadian fashion designers who designed outfits for the iconic Munny dolls. People were able to bid on them, raising money for War Child Canada.”

Project Munny fashions by Damzels in This Dress. Photo courtesy of Rolyn Chambers.

Of course, staging productions and running a proper nightclub required a small army of staff, including dozens of bartenders, waiters, bussers, and security people. Technical director Russell Edwards oversaw production details during CiRCA’s first year while Ashley MacIntyre did essential double duty as director of marketing and corporate relations.

“When I came on board eight months after CiRCA opened, it seemed like most of the kinks associated with opening a new venue had been ironed out and the team they’d assembled was working well together,” recalls Pat Boogie. “It was very exciting to be working in Canada’s largest club and among so many talented people.”

In its first year, CiRCA was the place to be. It was even recognized on the global stage—rare for a Toronto club—winning “best new club” honours at the WMC’s 2008 Club World Awards. But the cracks were starting to show.

“When I was working there, we all knew that the club was in major trouble financially,” admits Boogie. “Not only were they behind on paying many of their main in-house staff, they were also behind on paying many outside contractors. It was a very difficult and extremely stressful situation on a daily basis.”

Martinez Brothers, with Pat Boogie in background. Photo by Andre M, courtesy of Boogie.

The beginning of the end: It’s impossible to discuss CiRCA without addressing the financial troubles, variety of court cases, and competing economic and artistic priorities that ultimately led to its downfall. The fact that CiRCA opened carrying millions of dollars in debt is irrefutable. Once doors had opened, the priority was paying rent, the interest on those early loans, and for day-to-day operations. There was a swirl of rumours about who or what was paid under Gatien’s watch.

“Talk to any bartender, waiter or bus boy who was there; I never missed a payroll,” Gatien insists. “When I was there, we also never missed our withholdings to the government, we were current with our rent, all that stuff.”

“The staff was getting paid for the most part at that point,” verifies former general manager Bristol. “Sometimes it was late, but it always got paid. I was behind, but the other managers were not, and the promoters were behind.”

Arena Entertainment already owed more than $600,000 in back rent by the time CiRCA opened in October 2007 (according to a Notice of Intent and Proposal from Arena’s eventual 2010 Bankruptcy and Insolvency Act [BIA] court proceedings), but RioCan did not provide monthly specifics prior to April 2007, despite Kulidjian’s repeated requests. The landlords do not appear to have initially demanded arrears, but instead made compromises and granted credits towards CiRCA’s rent. RioCan Statement of Arrears (SOA) figures from November 2009 do indicate that CiRCA’s monthly rent was generally kept current during its first year of operations. The big troubles began in December 2008, when—according to the aforementioned SOA—rent was not paid in full, followed by no payments in both January and February 2009.

This was a time of great turmoil at the club. By late 2008, Ari Kulidjian had hired accountants to do a financial audit, ostensibly with the goal of cutting CiRCA’s costs. This not only led to a falling out between Kulidjian and Gatien over the funds devoted to the club’s art department, aesthetics, and DJ/performer fees, but also a $20 million civil lawsuit that pitted the two (and related parties) against one another. Kulidjian and Arena Entertainment accused Gatien of financial mismanagement, breach of contract, slander, and more. Gatien, in a counterclaim, filed for breach of contract and back pay. (The lawsuits were dismissed for delay in 2011.)

Things came to a head when Gatien resigned in February 2009, leaving Kulidjian and Stephan Katmarian as the remaining co-directors of Arena Entertainment Inc. In a January 2010 affidavit (from the Arena Entertainment vs. Peter Gatien, PJG Holdings Inc. and Alexandra Gatien proceedings), Kulidjian stated that Gatien had quit in response to meetings of Arena’s Board of Directors in which the Board had criticized Gatien’s “mishandling of Arena’s financial affairs.”

Gatien tells me he left CiRCA because “I was not going to be associated with something that I considered to be a sub-standard product. Long story short, I very much believe that you have to continually reinvest in your club. That’s why our art department was so extensive, our installations changed all the time, we reinvented all of the rooms, and that sort of stuff.

“My two primary partners [Kulidjian and Katmarian] saw that as a waste of money and felt that we should cash in and just become a bridge and tunnel [suburban/commercial] club. I got tired of trying to explain that if you want to last 10 or 20 years in the business, you can’t be shortsighted on your profits and try to shortchange the public. The art component of the whole club and the DJs—to do it right costs money. There’s a lot that goes on behind making a place become an institution versus a place that’s just okay.” (Ari Kulidjian rejected my requests for an interview, stating only that I should refer to the court documents related to Arena’s BIA proceedings.)

Following Gatien’s departure, things took a turn for the worse. Just weeks after, in March 2009, RioCan made a formal demand for payment of CiRCA’s full arrears, listed as $822,754.58, within seven days. A series of such demands did result in Arena, under Kulidjian and Katmarian, prioritizing monthly rent and payments towards arrears for a period. But other aspects of CiRCA suffered: the club’s art department was unceremoniously closed that month.

“I showed up for work one day and was told that I was no longer allowed on the property—not even to clear my desk of personal belongings,” says artistic director Baird, who has worked to design a number of INK-owned clubs of late, including the soon-to-open Uniun Nightclub at 473 Adelaide W., former home of Devil’s Martini.

“After a solemn promise from these investors to pay me back wages of approximately $30,000 they instead cut the art department down to the one person—someone we had hired as a costume seamstress. It was all done with the hidden agenda of catering to the lowest common denominator, thinking that the patrons wouldn’t know the difference or care.”

“After Peter left, the directors and the powers that were left over became a lot tardier with their payments,” adds Bristol. “Some people’s payments stopped totally.”

Promoters including Chambers, GEM, and A.D/D all mention promised pay that was never received.

“Peter definitely started to ring up the unpaid bills, but it really started when he left and the guys who took over thought they could run the club by not paying people at all,” offers A.D/D’s Mario Jukica. “Slowly but surely, when you don’t pay people, they start to talk. When you stop paying promoters, people stop coming.”

As a patron, it was hard not to notice that CiRCA no longer felt as magical, that damaged furniture was slow to be repaired, or that DJ and entertainment bookings dried up.

“The art and the vision were gone,” says Bristol. “The creativeness slowed and then came to a halt.”

Bristol left two months after Gatien, going to the Guvernment and taking a lot of CiRCA staff with him. (Bristol continues to work for Charles Khabouth’s INK Entertainment; today he is director of venue operations for the company.) The turnover didn’t stop there. By mid-summer 2009, A.D/D and Randomland Fridays were no longer on the roster.

“When Peter left, the life force left with him,” says Jukica.

Kenny Glasgow at CiRCA. Photo by John Mitchell (http://derinkuyu.ca/).

Jonny White (left) and Nitin at Traffic Saturdays. Photo by John Mitchell (http://derinkuyu.ca/).

“CiRCA was Peter’s vision, and with him gone it just didn’t work,” agrees Pettigrew, who ended his highly profitable Traffic Saturdays around the same time. “GEM had to move on. The new owners just didn’t get it, so we decided it was best we leave.” (Pettigrew now lives in Los Angeles and is one of the driving forces behind the fast-growing BPM Festival, held each January in Playa del Carmen, Mexico.)

CiRCA’s programming became decidedly mainstream; Top 40, hip-hop, commercial dance music and bikini competitions became common as Arena worked to draw larger crowds and income. Reams of email correspondence between Arena and RioCan paint the picture of a club in trouble.

By August 2009, contributions to monthly rent were paid only after repeated landlord requests. Court documents from Arena’s BIA proceedings include binders full of emails outlining their excuses. Two bounced cheques in September were followed by a low payment in October and zero rent paid in November. On Nov. 5, after repeated notices of default, RioCan demanded full arrears of $789,550.76 by Nov. 12.

On Nov. 11, filing under the Canadian Bankruptcy and Insolvency Act, Arena Entertainment put forward a Notice of Intention with a Proposal to restructure and modify existing arrangements with their more than 150 creditors.

This would have led to some—including Toronto oil executive Robert Salna, a primary investor who reportedly sunk more than $1.8 million into CiRCA—being paid in full over a longer period of time while other creditors would receive only a percentage of what they were owed. Multiple creditors, including RioCan and the Royal Bank of Canada, immediately opposed Arena’s Proposal, resulting in a series of related court hearings.

Many close to the club believe all this should not have been necessary.

“During CiRCA’s first year, we did $14 million of business, which is a lot in Toronto,” says Gatien. (This figure was reiterated by Bristol, although a 2010 Globe and Mail article references court filings that suggest $7 million in revenues was a more likely number.)

“That club made a lot of money,” Gatien asserts. “We actually reduced the debt by a couple of million dollars in the first year.”

Others offer figures that back up Gatien’s claim. Experienced club and restaurant owner/operator Yigal Bensadoun was brought in as CiRCA’s general manager in October 2009 by Arena’s insolvency trustee, Hans Rizarri of Soberman Chartered Accountants.

“The club was a disaster from top to bottom,” writes Bensadoun by email. “I had to hire a whole new team within the first week to rebrand CiRCA and create something exciting in a place that had already been around for two years. It was a huge challenge to make it work again.”

He states that when he started, “Sales at CiRCA were averaging $45,000 a week. The place needed to generate $75,000 per week to stay afloat.”

Bensadoun also offers that, in working with Rizarri, “we were able to bring the sales up to well over $140,000 a weekend, and were able to show profits within the first month of operations.

“What was mind boggling is that sales on Saturday nights reached over $200,000 when the club first opened, and towards the end of CiRCA, those numbers were there again.”

At Traffic Saturdays. By John Mitchell Photography (http://derinkuyu.ca/).

What happened to it: Bensadoun, who now manages INK’s This Is London nightclub, describes a damning scenario.

“Money started coming in again, and the partners started to pay close attention to where the monies were going. The owners were not interested in paying down the debt to suppliers, bank loans, and RioCan. I had a deal in place in order to pay the landlords back, but they were more interested in getting back their investments.”

A Notice of Default served by RioCan on March 12, 2010 does state that Arena owed $79,357.52 in rent for the month of March, and that they should pay by the next day or the lease could be terminated.

“At that time, I couldn’t reinvest the money into the club by trying to bring new attractions, artists, and DJs to maintain the popularity that we’d regained,” states Bensadoun. “Things could have gone differently; the club earned enough money, and then some, to keep the place alive.”

The various efforts, arguments, and court cases became irrelevant. On March 24, 2010, CiRCA declared bankruptcy. Almost $9 million was owed to creditors; bankruptcy was declared after the Royal Bank demanded repayment of a $249,000 loan.

Receivers were called in on March 24, 2010, to begin the process of distributing CiRCA’s assets, valued at just $62,004.

Those of us who marveled at the club’s existence and potential are left to wonder what could have been.

“Even though CiRCA was not a financial success, it still left its mark on this city, and raised the bar for creativity, originality and style in a ‘super club,” says Pat Boogie. “It also brought an element of musical and artistic variety not seen on this level in Toronto.”

“CiRCA showed me what the next level of nightlife should be,” adds Bristol. “You always hear people saying that people, things, or products were ahead of their time; CiRCA actually was.”

“I was very proud of CiRCA,” says Gatien. “I was very proud of the staff and what we accomplished under very difficult circumstances. Had CiRCA not had the internal problems that we had, and I had been left to run it the way it was meant to be run, it would still be going gangbusters today.”

These days, Gatien is at work on developing a television series. (“It’s basically an Entourage-slash-Sex and the City period piece set in ’90s New York.”) He also helped finance the 2011 documentary Limelight, which focusses heavily on that club’s rise and fall and the court cases brought against him. I highly recommend a viewing.

Though he’s more likely to open a boutique hotel than he is another nightclub in Toronto, Gatien does still believe that a similarly grand superclub could succeed downtown.

“You need a lot of components to work at the same time, but if the right situation presented itself, Toronto’s market is more than adequate to sustain anything that any other large city can. You’ve got a large creative community, a lot of hip people; it may not have the joie de vivre that Montreal has, but it’s certainly not a one-horse town.”

As for 126 John Street itself, it’s again changing with the neighbourhood. A two-floor Marshalls department store opened there last Thursday.

126 John Street becomes a Marshalls. Photo by Denise Benson.

Thank you to Craig Pettigrew, Eve Fiorillo, Jeff Rogers, John Mitchell, Kenny Baird, Mario Jukica, Orin Bristol, Pat Boogie, Peter Gatien, Rolyn Chambers, Steve Ireson, Yigal Bensadoun, and Stuart Berman.

The post Then & Now: CiRCA appeared first on Then and Now: Toronto Nightlife History.

Article originally published February 16, 2012 by The Grid online (TheGridTO.com).

In this instalment of her ongoing nightlife-history series, Denise Benson looks back at the first club creation of Toronto nightlife magnate Charles Khabouth. At just 22 years old, he opened Club Z in 1984, but its groundbreaking legacy lives on to this day.

BY: DENISE BENSON

Club: Club Z, 11A St. Joseph Street

Years in operation: 1984-1989

History: Tracing the history of this city’s nightlife tells us much about its physical transformation and urban development. Nowhere is this more obvious than at the corner of Yonge and St. Joseph. Here, we’ve recently seen a few significant buildings largely demolished as part of their ongoing metamorphosis into Five Condos.

I had often wondered about the physical similarities between the original red brick buildings at 610 Yonge, 5 and 11 St. Joseph, and 15 St. Nicholas, but only recently noticed the plaque on 11’s easterly side. It turns out that moving and storage company Rawlinson Cartage built all of them, with the warehouse space of 11 St. Joseph constructed between 1895 and 1898.

Gay Torontonians who socialized in the 1970s and early ‘80s will remember 11A St. Joseph as popular all-ages discotheque Club Manatee, a three-level spot where the DJ booth was in the bow of a boat hanging above the crowd.

In September of 1984, directly after the Manatee’s closing, a 22-year-old Charles Khabouth debuted as a nightlife entrepreneur by opening Club Z in that very location. Now known as the CEO of INK Entertainment, whose many impressive properties include The Guvernment, La Société Bistro and the Bisha hotel/condo project, Khabouth started with just $30,000 and a desire to fuse his love of music, fashion and dance.

At the time, unlicensed (hence all-ages) after hours clubs were more common. Twilight Zone had opened in 1980 and was a bold new force on Richmond Street; Kongo Club (later Club Focus) would soon open on Hagerman; and Club Z neighbours Le Tube and Voodoo drew large fashion-conscious crowds, both gay and straight, with blends of new wave and alt disco.

“Back in those days, most nightclubs were limited to the confines of hotels,” recalls Khabouth. “In the early ’80s, the St. Joseph Street area was known to be the more underground social hub of nightlife. That area at night had an energy and vibrancy about it—an aura that you couldn’t get in hotel clubs. It had a bohemian feel, which is why it appealed to me.”

Khabouth describes Club Z’s aesthetic as “Do it yourself industrial design,” with much of the décor reportedly purchased at Canadian Tire. The club was bare bones, dark, but splashed with neon paint and squiggly lasers projected onto screens. It was multi-level, with two dancefloor/stage areas, high ceilings and a raised DJ booth accessed by a ladder. The back of the club contained a juice bar and video games like Pac-Man.

Club Z’s soundsystem was huge, and the space was reportedly licensed for 700-plus, but attendance was dauntingly low at first—until Khabouth rented a tiger to build buzz.

“After only being open for two months, and having no budget for advertising a Halloween event, I had to be creative,” he explains. “I had heard about a zoo up north that had tigers, and before I knew it, I had one delivered to the club. My office at the time had a large window and was street level, so it made for the perfect observation space. It caused quite the commotion.”

That’s an understatement. The tiger smashed the window in the early morning, and though still confined by a metal grille, it drew large crowds of people, the police, and the Humane Society. The incident made headlines and Club Z became a sensation.

Charles Khabouth was only 22 years old when he opened Club Z in 1984.

Why it was important: Club Z was one of Toronto’s first clubs to feature breaking sounds in dance music, with house mixed alongside freestyle, electro, early hip-hop and new wave. Khabouth himself took regular trips to New York, Detroit and Chicago “To hunt for new sounds in record shops.”

Music was central to creating an atmosphere that brought together a diverse downtown crowd Friday-through-Sunday, with Sundays a dedicated gay night that included drag shows.

“The crowd was very urban and eclectic,” recalls Toronto house music bricklayer Dino Demopoulos, who got his DJ start at Z, playing with twin brother Terry on occasional Fridays.

“There were a lot of alternative types there, the kind of freaks that you only had in the ’80s,” he says lovingly.

“During the Charles years Club Z was very hip downtown,” agrees journalist, DJ and then-Starsound Records employee Johnbronski, a regular at the club who later tended to its sound system.

“Gay, straight, new wave, hip-hop, disco, black, white, Chinese, Indian—it didn’t matter because the music came first. Remember, no booze was sold; it was just a big warehouse type space for dancing to some serious bass. The shared love of hip-hop and dance music culture was a very big part. You really needed to have an ear to the streets to know what was up back then.

“It was a place where a teenager could escape,” Johnbronski adds. “You’d sneak out of your house at midnight and head downtown, meeting and making new friends that you’d only see between 1-to-6am on weekends. Teachers and school friends thought I was making up stories about an all-ages dance club that opened at 11pm.”

Khabouth, who could often be found by the club’s front door, built his own career foundations at Z. He’s clearly proud of it to this day.

“I believe that Club Z pioneered a whole new music direction and a generation of club culture in Toronto. That’s why I am still looking for the latest sounds, and still find it crucial to invest in the best sound systems. Music is everything, and it’s the soul of any club.”

Club Z’s rise, in fact, can be heavily attributed to its star DJ: JC of the Sunshine Sound Crew, a Z resident from 1985-1988, long before he helmed the Phoenix’ famous Planet Vibe Sundays.

“Club Z was really all about JC,” says Demopoulos. “His talent put Z on the map because the club was known for having a shit-hot DJ playing all the best electronic music in Toronto, in my opinion. Though he didn’t play that much house, he covered a lot of ground musically, from Kraftwerk and Alexander Robotnik to New York electro and freestyle stuff like Debbie Deb’s ‘Look Out Weekend,‘ and just a lot of great club music like Denise Edwards, Joyce Sims, Nu Shooz, Madonna, and Colonel Abrams.

“JC was also the first DJ that we saw who had a drum machine—a Roland 808—up in the booth, and he would do much more than just play records. He was super professional at what he did, the most technically perfect DJ we had ever heard, so he really raised the bar for what a DJ could and should do in a club. He was that good.”

Dino & Terry were Club Z regulars, not only listening to and learning from JC, but also throwing occasional parties there and guest DJing alongside Dave Ahmad during his Friday night tenure between 1986-87.

“We’d been DJing at house parties, school parties and things like that,” says Demopoulos; “But this was our first real club, playing the kind of music that really changed our lives and put all the rest of our music career things in motion.

“At the time, pretty much only the Twilight Zone was playing underground house from Chicago, Detroit techno and New York stuff, and we were pretty crazy collectors of anything in the genre. We would take all the latest and greatest white labels and hard to find stuff to play at Club Z on Fridays. A fun story: we used to make sure to pour very stiff drinks for Dave Ahmad so that he would get really drunk and let us play for longer. He was so cool, and really progressive with the underground music at the time. Although JC would play some underground house stuff, Dave and us played a lot more of it.”

As for Ahmad himself, he’s one of Toronto’s true dance music pioneers. From 1981-2000, he hosted a variety of programs on CKLN 88.1FM, most notably influential Sunday afternoon program Dave’s Dance Music. He also DJed at Toronto hotspots including The Copa, Twilight Zone and Fresh.

“We played mainly house, but threw in some heavier electro and some wave; Kate Bush’s ‘Running Up That Hill‘ was a big one then,” Ahmad recalls of his Fridays at Z. “The crowd loved their music, but took time to rock out to anything new.

“I remember breaking out ‘Erotic City‘ by Prince there. Half of the crowd went nuts while the others didn’t know what hit them. [Dancer/choreographer] Steve Bolton was in the crowd, and ran up to the booth. I showed him the cut—it had just come in at Starsound that night. So the crowd was not all trendsetters, but they loved their music. Hot clothes too!”

Charles Khabouth (far left) and friends at Club Z

Who else played there: Other Club Z residents included electro, freestyle and new wave DJs Chico and Sherwin, who also opened popular after hours spot Amadeus right around the corner.

“I used to make my pilgrimage down to Z to hear Sherwin,” says Johnbronski. “I loved the way he mixed stuff like ‘I Love You‘ by Yello with Pet Shop Boys and Depeche Mode—those were essentially house beat records before house was even a concept. He was ahead of the curve on that, and mixed on three turntables, taking pieces from here and there, and layering in acapellas.”

International guest DJs and performers at Club Z included Grandmaster Flash, Newcleus, De La Soul, and Joyce Sims.

Also interesting to note is that famed New York nightclub operator and restaurateur Jeffrey Jah got his start producing parties at Club Z.

11A St. Joseph Street today

What happened to it: Charles Khabouth sold Club Z to Warren Webley, father of Sunshine Sound Crew and owner of Sunshine Sound and Lighting, in 1987.

“I had opened up Stilife and needed to focus strictly on that,” says Khabouth of the trendsetting, sophisticated spot he opened at Richmond and Duncan in 1986. “Although I was still involved with Club Z, it broke my heart to sell it.”

While DJ JC continued to play at Club Z, a lot of the house heads switched their allegiances fully to Twilight Zone.

Johnbronski, who began to work for Warren Webley as a DJ, sound tech and occasional doorman, recalls that his boss—also owner of Club Focus on Hagerman Street—closed Club Z’s doors for a period. It was re-opened as the new Club Focus in 1989. By that time, the area had become much rougher, with vandalism, muggings and overdoses all associated with the St Joseph Street clubs. Racist and homophobic skinheads were also a problem.

A young man named Jamie Withers was, in fact, stabbed and killed inside Club Z in 1989. His death is said to have prompted Webley to close Club Z and later re-open the space as Focus.

“My memory is that the fights and stuff were mushrooming and that I wanted to stay away from there,” says Johnbronski. “It was at a time when Toronto was beginning to go through a real urban expansion. I mean, think about it—it’s Toronto after hours, it’s near Yonge Street and we’re talking before Richmond and the whole club district existed. That area attracted a lot of everybody.”

11A St. Joseph later became dark after hours spot Playground. In the late ‘90s, Steve Ireson and partners cleaned the space up and opened it as The Pad. Between 2002 and 2004, 11 St. Joseph was redeveloped for residential use. It’s now marketed as Eleven Residencies.

As for Charles Khabouth and INK, they recently launched Chroma inside The Guvernment. Their newest nightclub, Cube, will open at the end of February, replacing INK’s Ultra club at 312 Queen West. Many Torontonians will most strongly associate this address with the BamBoo, a legendary restaurant and live music venue that was at the heart of Queen West for decades.

Thank you to all who contributed to this piece, including Paul E. Lopes, Hal Wong, Steve Ireson, Carlos Mondesir and Chris Torella. Sadly, despite much searching, very little photographic evidence of Club Z could be found. Please let us know if you have photos!

The post Then & Now: Club Z appeared first on Then and Now: Toronto Nightlife History.

Article originally published October 5, 2011 by The Grid online. It was second in the series. Given that Then & Now articles later grew in length and number of participants, the Twilight Zone will be revisited in more detail for the T&N book.

In this instalment of Then & Now, Denise Benson looks back at the legacy of trailblazing ‘80s nightclub The Twilight Zone, which brought diverse crowds and sounds to The Entertainment District long before such a designation even existed.

BY: DENISE BENSON

Club: Twilight Zone, 185 Richmond St. W.

Years in operation: 1980-1989

Why it was important: Long before the Entertainment District was awash in condos, clubs and restaurants—back when the area was still largely non-residential and known as the Garment District—four brothers and two close friends opened a venue that was to forever alter this city’s danceclub nightscape. In January of 1980, David, Albert, Tony and Michael Assoon—along with Luis Collaco and Bromely Vassell, co-owners until 1983—took Toronto to the Twilight Zone, a magical late-night place where the mix of people was just as eclectic as the music itself. The Twilight Zone embraced the collage of sounds that came to define the 1980s, as local and international DJs played disco, funk, electro, early hip-hop, new wave, freestyle, house and techno over the years, and on an infamously state-of-the-art sound system designed by New York’s Richard Long (pictured at left below with his creation alongside associate Roger Goodman). The Zone was the place to be, with large, diverse crowds dancing until morning week after week.

Sound designer Richard Long (left) with associate Roger Goodman. Photo courtesy of Albert Assoon.

“Young budding Queen Street designers, fashionistas, punk rockers, Chelseas, goths, gays, straights, blacks and whites all brushed shoulders,” recalls Albert Assoon. “At the Twilight Zone, you had Dean and Dan [of Dsquared], Kenneth Cole, Suzanne Boyd, Charmaine Gooden, Michael Griffiths, the Soho designers, and other local artists who were regulars. Many greats met up and fully expressed themselves with their look and attitudes!”

Who played there: At its core, the Twilight Zone was about the adventurous music and personalities of its resident DJs, including Siobhan O’Flynn (who showcased alternative rock, UK pop, disco and more at her Pariah Wednesdays) and Friday-night mainstay Don Cochrane (who played new wave and other dancefloor-friendly sounds then bubbling in the UK). DJs Tony and Albert Assoon, lovers of underground disco, funk, freestyle and the like, helmed Saturday nights. Above all, The Zone is remembered fondly as Toronto’s first home of garage and house, especially as the music’s bricklayers became imported guests.

David Morales (left), Dave Del Du Valle a.k.a. David Delvalle. Photo courtesy of Albert Assoon.

“Twilight Zone started off the tradition of bringing international DJs on Saturdays, starting out with DJ Kenny Carpenter, David Morales, Frankie Knuckles, Dave Madness Del Du Valle—all from NYC—and Jay Armstrong from Ministry in the UK,” says Albert Assoon. “All the DJs offered a different sound and melted the crowd. Derrick May and Alton Miller from Detroit used to come to Toronto to party at the Zone and, one Saturday in 1985, asked if they could play as they’d brought their productions.”

Further proving the Assoons had their collective fingers on the pulse of a musical movement, The Zone featured live performances by artists as diverse and influential as D Train, Divine, Eartha Kitt, Joycelyn Brown, The Spoons, Jermaine Stewart and Anne Clark.

“One of the highlights at The Zone was when we had the Beastie Boys, who went on a rampage and graffitied the club,” Albert recalls. “We had just sanded the area and it wasn’t painted so we decided to leave it as part of the decor.”

What happened to it: The Twilight Zone closed in the fall of 1989 as the lease expired and the building’s owner sold the property. Today, it is a parking lot.

185 Richmond Street West parking lot (October 2011)

“We would have bought the building,” says Albert, “however, despite our successes the banks would never finance us with anything except the one time my father put up his house for us to buy The Twilight Zone’s sound system, which was approximately $100,000 U.S. We had to sign a waiver where our unborn children would have to pay if we defaulted. That loan was paid on time and in full, but they would not agree with our vision.”

The Assoons—also the original visionaries who, in 1984, opened a club space at 132 Queens Quay E. called Fresh that was eventually ousted to make way for RPM (and later The Guvernment)—went on to open Gotham City Bar and Grill at 81 Bloor St. E. in 1990 and, later, dance-music haven The Living Room at 330 Adelaide St. W.

The legacy: The Twilight Zone is revered and remembered to this day and there are annual reunions as a result. This Saturday (Oct. 8), the Assoon brothers and United Soul unite to present The Twilight Zone Tribute Party 2011 at Revival (783 College). On deck is house-music legend Robert Owens—who will both DJ and perform his classics like “Tears,” “I’ll Be Your Friend” and “Bring Down The Walls”—alongside DJs Albert Assoon, Dave Campbell, Mitch Winthrop and Groove Institute. David and Michael Assoon will host. Get in the mood by downloading this recent Albert Assoon promo mix.

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