Article originally published April 29, 2014 by The Grid online (thegridto.com).

In the mid-1980s, the Queen-and-Bathurst area was a wasteland—until this multi-floor/multi-genre dance-club rocked the corner to life, and shifted the future course of Toronto nightlife in the process.

BY: DENISE BENSON

Club: The Big Bop, 651 Queen St. W.

Years in operation: 1986-1996

History: The heritage building on the southeast corner of Queen West and Bathurst has long been a prominent marker in Toronto’s collective consciousness. Originally known as The Occidental Building, it was built in 1876 for the Toronto Masons, and was the work of Toronto-born architect E. J. Lennox who also designed Old City Hall, Casa Loma, and more than 70 other buildings in this city.

The south-east corner of Queen and Bathurst, circa 1928.

In 1948, the upper part of 651 Queen St. W. was demolished and the address opened as the Holiday Tavern. The Holiday was a dinner club, complete with stage shows, including jazz and R&B bands. Later, the Tavern would become known as a beer hall and strip club. An attempt to revive it as a live-music venue was made in the ’80s, with bands like The Shuffle Demons holding down residencies.

It was also during this period, specifically in 1984, that the largely white building underwent a neon, new-wave makeover by Toronto artist Bart Schoales, who was commissioned to create both interior and exterior murals.

The Holiday Tavern gets Bopped. Photos by Ira S. Cohen.

The ultimate credit/blame for this paint job has widely been bestowed upon the Ballinger brothers, four farm-boys-turned-club-impresarios who arrived in Toronto after achieving great success in Cambridge, Ontario. There, they had converted an old pizzeria into the highly successful Ballingers Danceteria and Videotheque. But the Ballingers–Stephen, Lon, Douglas and Peter—did not turn their attention to 651 Queen St. W. until 1986.

“We had sold Ballingers in Cambridge in 1984 for $1.5 million, after purchasing it five years earlier for $200,000,” Lon Ballinger divulges by email.

“We bought an old building at 666 King West, on the northeast corner at Bathurst, and had just finished recreating it as a fashion-display building when Douglas told us he noticed the old Holiday Tavern, which had just been redone by some other guys, had closed. This was February of 1986.

“At that time, we needed to make money, so we rented the Holiday for $9,000 a month, and spent the next four months getting it into shape. We opened the Big Bop on June 26 of 1986. I was then 35, Steve was 36, and Douglas was 28. Peter, the fourth brother, was more of a small, quiet partner.”

It was a much different time at the corner of Queen and Bathurst. While it may be difficult to believe today, there was very little nightlife on Queen west of Spadina. Bathurst marked the gateway toward a deeply impoverished Parkdale. It was not a likely location for a large nightclub to gain mass appeal.

“It was, in a sense, the dividing line between civilized world and a kind of insanity,” says Boris Khaimovich, a doorman who had worked security at clubs in New York as well as at The Copa.

“There was also Galaxy Donuts across the street from us. There was the worst Mr. Sub on the corner, an old cigar store near it, and Mr. Pong’s was down the street. It was simplicity at its best and worst.”

“We wanted to do a club that embraced the area,” offers Lon Ballinger. “It was tough, full of winos and drug addicts. Being young and mischievous, we thought to ourselves, ‘Let’s make this area like Disneyland for adults,’ so we sold the Bop as the four-storey funhouse in the part of the city that never sleeps.”

Very quickly, the multi-tiered Big Bop drew capacity crowds, with line-ups around the block and down to Richmond. The Ballingers had their calling card.

Bop promo image courtesy of Joey Santaguida.

Why it was important: At the time of its opening, the Big Bop was one of very few clubs in Toronto that could hold 1,000 or more people.

“As far as mass appeal, mainstream clubs went, there were only five or six at the time,” Khaimovich recalls. “The competition was The Copa, RPM, The Diamond, and then there was the upscale Berlin at Yonge and Eglinton.”

The Bop distinguished itself through a number of key factors, including multiple floors, wonky layout and décor, and a range of music not then heard under one roof. The Ballingers were pioneers of the large, multi-level dance club in Toronto.

“We came up with the idea of using all the floors from our growing up in the sticks of Ontario farm country, where our Mom and Dad had moved their brood from the city of Toronto so we could grow up knowing nature and how to work hard,” says Lon Ballinger. “Parties during our teen years involved going to big old country farmhouses where we flirted with cute girls and smoked pot while moving from room to room.

“The Big Bop was [planned as] a dance club for everyone who loved pretty kids, great music, and lots of well-priced booze. It was built to offer a complete interactive party that was to take up every room in the building with either dancing or visual effects—from the basement coat check area with strobe lights flashing off and on within the paint-splattered room that freaked everyone out, to the to the black lights and neon waterfalls [painted by Floria Sigismondi] on the third floor.”

Big Bop promo goods, Photo courtesy of Joey Santaguida.

There was nothing subtle about the Big Bop. Pink lights shone brightly on the army-green walls of the first floor, also adorned by painted murals of the Jetsons and various oddities. A long bar lined the room, which boasted a black-and-white checkerboard floor and a DJ booth placed above two small stage areas where crowds could strut their stuff.

“The Big Bop was big, bold, colourful, and audacious,” summarizes Avery Tanner, the man who would be mostly strongly associated with that DJ booth. “It rank of beer and scotch, and the walls were puke-green. The sound was adequate and the lights meagre, but the vibe was palpable.

“When you walked into the building, even during the day, it was like entering the whale. She seemed to have a life of her own. The dark winding staircases and the tangle of little tiny lounges on the third floor made it like the maze of Minos. It would be so packed that it could take you a half hour to move from floor to floor.”

Adds former Bop security man Krafty Brown, “You could wander from the brightly lit main floor into the flat black and day-glo stairwell, up a set of stairs and come out in this large black room with a wall of TVs to your left, behind the bar. If you went up the other stairs, you would have the option of a third floor, with more day-glo, and a tiny room with a fountain that was attached to a larger room with no music, but couches to chill in.”

Brown, a musician, DJ, sound tech and security man, has worked in clubs since the early 1970s, when he started as a busboy at the Colonial Tavern. He later played in the house band at The Cheetah club (formerly Mrs. Knights), and “worked as everything, but a waitress—the job I really wanted” at Yonge Street hard rock club The Gasworks. Brown still worked there when he landed the security job at Big Bop in summer of 1986.

“When Doug Ballinger hired me, he took me to every little space on every floor, even to the unfinished part of the basement, which he left open to the public with no or very little light,” recalls Brown. “It was a doorman’s nightmare, but he told me if I found people in there to ‘just make sure they are having a good time.’”

“The mentality that the Ballingers had toward their patrons was simplicity at its best,” confirms Khaimovich. “‘Get ’em in, get ’em drunk, get ’em to dance.’ It felt very much like a frat-house party. The décor resembled that as well, including a bunch of broken chairs and couches, with springs sticking out of them. There was a kitchen that served pizza. It was a party. It was boys and girls and booze and music.

“Once I said to Doug, ‘You know, we’ve got these two doors at the front. We should open them both up for traffic flow,’ and he said, ‘No Boris, no. You want to have the kids rubbing up against each other as they’re squeezing into the door.’ That’s the simplicity. If a customer complained, it was met with ‘Have a beer.’”

Crowd at the Big Bop. Photo courtesy of Joe Santaguida.

The Ballinger brothers couldn’t have cared less about courting the cool kids. Their priority was to create fun without pretense.

“We came from no money, had no education, and no one ever lent too much help or good advice,” says Lon Ballinger. “We always felt confident in our imaginations, our work ethics, our sense of playfulness, and our fun-loving attitudes. We knew instinctively that people just wanted fun and fantasy, and we gave them what they wanted.

“We boarded up the windows, and the doors offered no signage. That approach caused so much good controversy, just like the way we were the first club to ever open only 20 hours a week. We knew from the experience we had picked up at Ballingers that the best way to make money and keep costs low was to concentrate the hours, so we opened from 8 p.m. to 1 a.m. [last call at the time], four nights a week.

“We recognized that Wednesdays could have a low cost and college-crowd vibe, so we called this night Depression Wednesday, and charged $2.50 admission and $2.50 for drinks. It was a huge hit. Thursdays were Ladies Night, with free admission and free drinks till midnight for the girls. Friday and Saturday were just off the hook. All the local kids gravitated to our madhouse of fun.

“Within six months, we were making $60,000 per week and it was costing us $15,000. We had line-ups to get in that were two city blocks long. Needless to say, we thought we were pretty special.”

Those lineups had a great deal to do the Bop’s wildly varied mix of music, divided by floors. Without a doubt, the club’s star was resident Deejay Avery Tanner, who rocked the first floor Wednesdays through Saturdays.

Tanner had DJed his way through university, promoted events, and worked at both incarnations of Domino Klub. He’d even installed sound and built the DJ booth at Domino’s Yonge and Dundas location. After he quit there, Tanner thought he was through with DJing.

“Then I heard that the new owners of the Holiday Tavern were looking for a ’50s and ’60s rock ’n’ roll DJ,” Tanner tells me. “I had been a record collector before a DJ, had all of the music and always loved the classics. It felt like a natural fit. I put together a mixed tape and went in to introduce myself.”

He was hired in April of 1986 to help install the Big Bop’s sound and lighting, and then set its scene musically for most of the club’s years.

“It was the Ballingers’ idea to do a multi-level club with rock ’n’ roll on one floor and dance music on another,” says Tanner. “Their plan was to play ’50s and ’60s rock on the first floor. I told them I was concerned that it would be a sort of ‘house of oldies’ cliché, and thought it should appeal to youth and have an edge. That’s why we played Memphis soul like Booker T, psychedelic rock like The Zombies, blues like Muddy Waters, odd stuff like Mungo Jerry, and groovy stuff like David Essex. Of course, there was also plenty of Doors and Stones to keep it rocking.

“It soon became clear that we needed to play the ’70s—Aerosmith, Zeppelin, Blondie, and funk and disco, too. It was a musical history tour every night. Over time, even early ’80s stuff like Billy Idol and The Cult became nostalgic enough to enter our vocabulary, but when the grunge thing hit, it was time to pull out the stops. We had come of age, and we played everything. That’s just the way it was.”

The Bop’s second floor featured dance music—disco, new wave and early house. It was daring to feature such a range under one roof on a nightly basis.

“It was unheard of,” asserts Tanner. “Clubs either played one music or another, and there was no mixing of styles or crowds until we opened. In fact, no one played rock at all. After the Big Bop’s success, clubs all over downtown started playing rock ’n’ roll.”

“We knew we had a superstar on our hands with Deejay Avery Tanner,” says Lon Ballinger. “He grabbed his collection of ’50s and ’60s music, cut out a big DJ booth, and became the heart and soul of the Big Bop.

“Avery told me once, ‘You guys may have built the Big Bop, but I am the Big Bop.’ He was right. The girls came from near and far to see this mad little man DJing, drinking, and playing air guitars. He was bigger than any rock star could dream of.”

An entertainer as much as he was a DJ, Tanner was known to leap about to songs while singing along and playing toy instruments. The crowd danced directly below.

“My booth was a cut out in the wall, like a puppet theatre, and we put on a good show if I do say so myself,” says Tanner. “I would climb out onto the window ledge, and the girls would stroke my hair like I was Adonis. It was as close to being a rock star as you can get without actually being a rock star.”

Tanner had a comrade and “right-hand-man” in this revelry: lighting operator Joe Santaguida.

Joe Santaguida (left) and Avery Tanner in the DJ booth. Photo courtesy of Tanner.

Santaguida, who’d grown up at Queen and Bathurst and keenly watched the transition of the Holiday Tavern to the Big Bop, became a regular at the club soon after it opened. In 1988, Tanner invited him to do lights. They became a duo act.

“Avery and I had a routine for every song, to entertain the people,” says Santaguida. “We were not just DJs; we were showmen, and the crowd knew us as a team. People came to the booth to dance and party with us; our job was to take requests, hang out, dance, and drink! It was absolutely amazing to look out and watch the crowds rocking along with us.”

Those crowds were heavily skewed to college and university students, but with a healthy mix of neighbourhood locals, Queen Street artists and musicians, and others who packed the place.

“All the hockey players used to come right after their games, and hold court in the back,” says Lon Ballinger. “Wendel Clark, Lanny McDonald, Steve Thomas, and many others got ogled and probably much more.

“There was a lot of sex and romance in the air, and this too is what made the Big Bop so special. You might very well meet the girl or boy of your dreams; my cousin met his wife there, as did my brother Douglas. We had so many beautiful girls and handsome young men there, wanting to meet each other, and all of this music and attractiveness. It changed the rundown old neighbourhood for the better. We were very proud of the Big Bop, and how when you entered through the only door that ever opened to the public, we were all equal, one people under the spell of the music and love.”

Nadya Swyrydenko and Gregory Hewitt behind his first-floor bar. Photo courtesy of Hewitt.

Who else played/worked there: The Big Bop’s success soon paved the way for other Ballinger clubs in the city, including Boom Boom Room, Rockit, Go-Go, and The World. There was a heavy overlap of staff between Ballinger venues, most obviously so with DJs.

James Vandervoort a.k.a. James St. Bass first made his name as resident DJ of Boys Nite Out at the Boom. He recalls filling in for DJ Debbie Rottman, then the Bop’s main second-floor resident, many times during 1989.

“Debbie was a classic-alternative DJ, but she knew her dance-music history,” says Vandervoort. “She was a very experienced DJ who coached me to beat-mix New Order, Depeche Mode, and Pet Shop Boys’ records. I learned so much from her; she was my first DJ mentor, and first to support my ambitions and make me try harder to spin better. ”

Vandervoort also associates the likes of The Cure, Violent Femmes, Tones on Tail, and Erasure with Big Bop’s second floor, and highlights a song both he and Rottman played: New Order’s “Fine Time” (Silk mix). (Vandervoort went on to become a resident DJ at clubs including Go-Go and Limelight, and hosted CIUT’s pioneering HardDrive dance music show. Rottman is deceased.)

Other DJs heard over the years on the Bop’s second floor include adventurous early resident Cam Gavin, and dance-music dons including Jason “Deko”Steele, Kevin Williams, and Mark Micallef, who also organized a DJ record pool. On the first floor, Mr. Pete was a regular fill-in for Tanner, lighting man Joe Santaguida later became a resident DJ, and Trevois Mais a.k.a. DJ Tex rounded out the roster.

Originally, the third-floor lounge did not have music, but after a bar was built and busboy Gregory Hewitt was promoted to tend it, he provided the tunes.

“I bought a portable CD player, brought in an old stereo, and started playing my own music,” recalls Hewitt. “I played a lot of Kraftwerk and a ton of disco.  It was a slow start up there, but I eventually had a bunch of amazing regulars.”

Hired by the Big Bop’s first general manager, Michael Ibrahim (now owner of Club Abstract in Kitchener), Hewitt also went on to bartend on the Bop’s busy main floor, and was among an early wave of Bop staffers comprising artists, musicians, and other performers.

“I don’t know what it was with the staff of that time, but we were a very, very tight family,” he describes. “It was a large collection of downtown music and arts people, most involved in numerous projects outside the Bop.”

Big Bop staff Shawn (right), Michael Ibrahim, Kerry McInerney. Photo courtesy of Gregory Hewitt.

Hewitt points to examples including Floria Sigismondi, who worked one of the Bop’s beer bars before becoming a renowned video- and filmmaker. Teresa Roncon was an early waitress, and left the Bop to appear as a host on CityTV and then MuchMusic. Actress, model, and visual artist Bridget Griggs bartended along with the likes of Hobie Post, Kerry McInerney, Linda Parent, John Tench, Cheryl Butson, Cristy-Jane Byrom, Jenn Chycoski, Nadya Swyrydenko, and Julian Finkel.

“Julian had the best long hair in the club, maybe even in the city, but that wasn’t his draw,” says Hewitt of the one-time bartender who now owns Kensington Market boutique Model Citizen. “He was one of those people that women and men were just drawn to. His personality and presence was magnetic. Miles Roberts was another bartender and fantastic human being, not to mention a brilliant singer, dancer, artist and bloody hilarious. [Roberts now lives in Vancouver.]

“Lola a.k.a. Carmel Debreuil was also a bartender. Even though she wasn’t there for long, she left an impression. She was known to stand up and straddle the beer bin to dance to her fave songs. She also wore a lot of bustiers and bras when she worked, and sometimes we would use make-up and draw fake areolas to draw more guys to her tub for beer sales. That still makes me laugh.”

As for Hewitt himself, he left the Bop after being fired suddenly.

“The Ballingers believed I was stealing,” he reveals. “I was kind of devastated as I’d given my everything to that job, and why would I steal—I was making heaps of tips. I would often forget to pick up my paycheque for weeks at a time.”

Hewitt immediately landed a bartending job at rival club RPM, and turned down the Bop when he was offered his job back just days later. He also worked at The Phoenix before moving on to work in television. Hewitt is now a social-media consultant with TheGregoryProject and blogger at GET Out! Canada.

Other Big Bop staff of note includes barback Bruce McCallum, later a familiar face at both Sneaky Dee’s and The Horseshoe; musician and animator Crawford “Crocky” Teasdale, then a lighting man; and doorman Anthony Reffosco, who later worked as general manager at Go-Go before opening his own Power nightclub.

Big Bop T-shirt. Photo courtesy of Joey Santaguida.

Ian Michael Shaw was a well-experienced bar man by the time he was recruited from a managerial role at Yonge Street’s Hard Rock Café to act as the Bop’s general manager. He came on board late in the club’s history, in 1993, when the Ballingers had already moved to New York to run Webster Hall (more on this shortly).

“[I was hired] when the Ballingers had divested themselves of everything in Toronto except the Boom and the Bop,” says Shaw. “They sent a promoter named Martin X up from New York to breathe some new life into the joint, and he recruited me.”

Though the Ballingers were no longer onsite, one major factor did not change.

“I used to tell my staff that we sold sex, and everything else was just dressing,” states Shaw. “Sex. That’s what people came for, to let the hair down, party and maybe meet Mr./Ms. Right or Right Now.

“We got people all hot and bothered and sent them home together. Often, they couldn’t wait to get home, and got nasty with the staff on the spot. There was sex behind the bar, in the DJ booth—the DJ booth was like a fucking porn set, ridiculous—in the office, the coat check, the VIP, even on the freakin’ fire escape. It was like a working in Led Zeppelin’s hotel room.”

Krafty Brown, who worked at three additional Ballinger clubs before DJing at Limelight, tells a simple story that corroborates the above.

“My son was conceived at a Big Bop Christmas party. He is a 24-year-old working DJ/tech in Toronto.” (Brown himself now resides in Ottawa where he DJs, produces, and plays music.)

Not only did the Ballingers change the corner of Queen and Bathurst with their Big Bop, they changed people’s lives.

“I think we put a lot of fun and clean play into that area,” offers Lon Ballinger. “As the years went by, it gentrified.”

Outside the Bop. Photo courtesy of Joe Santaguida.

What happened to it: The Big Bop began to suffer after the brothers Ballinger moved to New York in 1992, where they operated Webster Hall.

“When I found Webster Hall, I told my brothers that the Big Bop was heading to NYC,” says Lon Ballinger. “We took a lot of our Canadian experiences with us, and all the little tricks we had used to lure people into our Toronto clubs worked so easily in NYC. Avery joined us when we opened, and he helped us rock NYC to the rafters as well.”

From October 1992 to July 1993, Tanner flew between cities to spin. Joe Santaguida DJed at the Bop when Tanner was not there, and became the full-time first-floor resident after Tanner re-located.

Santaguida’s blend of classic rock, soul and R&B kept the crowds coming for quite some time, but by 1993 only weekends were regularly packed. Pool tables were added to the club, Wednesdays were closed, and Thursdays were re-formatted.

“We opened a new night called Rock 175, where all floors went rock,” says Shaw, before adding that “Avery was the heart and soul of the Bop. Joey and Tex did a good job of following his act, but the Bop never had the heat it did when Avery was there.” (Shaw later bartended at Bemelmen’s, and now works in remote expedition travel.)

The Bop’s slowdown had at least as much to do with a major shift in Toronto’s club scene, as the multi-floor format the Ballingers had pioneered was put in play at many clubs located in the then-burgeoning Entertainment District.

People flocked to newer venues like Joker, Whiskey Saigon, and Limelight, which was managed by Boris Khaimovich. (He later was a partner in System Soundbar, and now works the door at Rock ‘n’ Horse Saloon in addition to operating his Maple Crescent Farm.)

Joe Santaguida during his DJ days at the Bop. Photo courtesy of him.

In 1994, the Big Bop began its decline in earnest.

“The Ballingers had moved on, and were neglecting the Bop,” says Santaguida, who quit in late 1993, but continues to speak fondly of the club. “Their focus and resources were 100 per cent on Webster Hall, and they just let the Bop run its course. I remember going back in 1994 to check out the club a couple of times, and it had changed dramatically. All of it—the music, people, and pace had slowed down.” (Santaguida is now a stay-at-home dad, raising two kids with his wife, who he met at the Bop more than 20 years ago.)

The Big Bop went into receivership in 1994, and sputtered its way through the next year-and-a-half to two years. Though he would not confirm the exact closing date, Lon Ballinger did offer some details.

“My brothers and I suffered a complete financial meltdown. We lost everything we owned in the real-estate collapse that took place in 1989 in Canada. We were builders as well as fine club operators. We lost 10 buildings; one of them was the Big Bop. This was a very painful time for us.

“I thank the people of Toronto for the great times we had, and for always supporting our clubs. I have so many good memories of Toronto.”

The Ballinger brothers, along with their 10 sons, now run multiple venues in New York, including multi-room lounge and live-music venue Slake and The City Beer Hall in Albany.

After more than 40 years of entertaining, Lon Ballinger says, “We want to put on our tombstones, ‘They made ‘em dance.’”

“The Ballingers are remarkable people, and a fascinating story,” says Tanner, a resident DJ at Webster Hall until his return to Toronto in 2012.

I ask him the secret of his success in working with the notoriously hot-blooded brothers for 25 years.

“Patience, and a cast iron liver.”

The history of the Big Bop does not end there, however. In part two of this story, we’ll examine its rebirth in the late-’90s as a live music venue.

Thank you to participants Avery Tanner, Boris Khaimovich, Gregory Hewitt, Ian Michael Shaw, James Vandervoort, Joe Santaguida, Krafty Brown, and Lon Ballinger, as well as to Ira S. Cohen and Sue Waller.

The post Then & Now: The Big Bop, part 1 appeared first on Then and Now: Toronto Nightlife History.

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

The Ballinger brothers – owners of clubs including the Big Bop and Boom Boom Room – were not known for creating sophisticated spots. That changed with the chic, tri-level super-club that brought long line-ups to the Entertainment District in the early 1990s.

BY: DENISE BENSON

Club: Go-Go, 250 Richmond St. W.

Years in operation: 1990-1993

History: Though based in Toronto for less than a decade, the brothers Ballinger made a long-lasting impression. The “Rock ‘n’ Roll Farmers” from Dundalk were entrepreneurs who’d originally opened a variety of venues in Cambridge, Ontario in the late 1970s.

In 1986, Lon, Stephen, Doug, and Peter Ballinger opened the multi-leveled Big Bop club at Queen and Bathurst. The wildly popular hangout would anchor the southeast corner for over two decades, and was the cornerstone of the club empire the Ballingers would build. Their Boom Boom Room, opened at Queen and Palmerston in 1988, was much smaller in size, but was trendsetting with its mix of rock, alternative, house, and queer nights. With a few years’ experience in T.O. and a staff that was willing and able to bounce between venues, the Ballingers soon set their sites on 250 Richmond St. W. for an ambitious new venture.

Richmond and Duncan was not yet an obvious choice of location. After-hours club Twilight Zone had closed just the year before, and Charles Khabouth’s Stilife, located directly across the street, was showing signs of slowing. Beyond these venues, and after-hours rave destination 23 Hop, which would soon open at 318 Richmond St. W., the area was still largely deserted at night.

But with Doug Ballinger at the wheel, the brothers would develop a 14,000 square foot, tri-level warehouse building into one of the most innovative and influential clubs Toronto would experience in the 1990s.

“I had never met anyone as driven and excited about anything as Doug,” says DJ Mark Oliver, who was convinced by Ballinger to leave his residency at Stilife in order to spin five nights per week at Go-Go.

Ballinger custom-designed one floor—what would become known as The White Room—with Oliver’s forward-thinking dance music in mind. Above that would be the large Theatre Room, with a lounge to be built on the first floor, and a rooftop patio—among the city’s first at a nightclub—complete with water fountains and a barbeque hut. This was to be a very different experience from earlier Ballinger creations.

Go-Go manager Steve McMinn with Kim Ackroyd Oka on the rooftop patio. Photo courtesy of Ackroyd Oka.

“The previous Ballinger ventures had been built according to his older brothers’ specs and tastes, but now it was Doug’s chance to shine,” recalls Oliver.

“The Ballingers were all amazingly intelligent in their own unique ways,” says Boris Khaimovich, a Toronto nightclub veteran who worked at both the Boom and the Bop before becoming involved with the construction of Go-Go, where he would head security and, later, manage.

“They were a brilliant team,” describes Khaimovich. “Doug would conceptualize everything, Lon would find a way to finance it, and Steve would build it. [Writer’s note: Peter wasn’t as actively involved.] They were creative, and they were true club owners, with all of the eccentricities involved.”

Go-Go opened to a capacity crowd on July 13, 1990, with the photography of Floria Sigismondi on display.

Go-Go Member card. Courtesy of Jeremy Markoe.

Why it was important: Go-Go took the Ballingers’ tried-and-true multi-floor format to new heights. It was, at the time, their most ambitious and upscale club project, and its success influenced not only numerous future nightclub builds in Toronto, it also cemented the approach that the brothers themselves would later apply to their New York mega-club, Webster Hall.

“The Ballingers took a building and they made a different club on every floor, which hadn’t been seen here before, except at their Big Bop,” says the straight-shooting Khaimovich during a lengthy phone discussion.

“The Bop was a cash cow; it was like there was a money press in the basement, and they just kept printing it. The Boom was the Ballingers’ first attempt at getting into a smaller, more niche market club. Go-Go was a New York style club in downtown Toronto.”

Khaimovich had himself worked at a number of New York clubs, as well as at Toronto’s renowned Yorkville spot The Copa, during the late 1980s and was impressed by Go-Go.

“There was nothing like it here before. Up to that point, you had RPM, The Copa, The Diamond, and Big Bop as the only big-venue clubs in the city. RPM was in its decline, The Copa was allowed to get rundown, The Diamond did a lot more live music, and the Bop was basically college students getting shitfaced.

“Go-Go was the first club downtown that could easily hold a thousand people, and it was stunning. The lighting was spectacular—we had intelligent lighting—and the sound was solid. The staff was dressed up; they weren’t just wearing black T-shirts. Bodies were being shown, the male bartenders were dressed up, and doormen had to wear a suit and tie.”

Much of Go-Go’s success can be attributed to the club’s stark contrasts, including the aesthetic and feel of each different room. The first-floor lounge was intimate and warm, complete with a large wooden bar and windows looking out onto the street. The spacious second-floor White Room was bold and bright. It was entirely white—the walls, bars, DJ booth, bathrooms, statues, speakers, even the staff’s clothing.

The White Room. Photo courtesy of Kim Ackroyd Oka.

“The White Room was a huge departure from any club of its time,” recalls Oliver, the room’s sole resident for a full year. “Everything was white. Back then, most DJ booths were stuck in a corner of the club. Doug, however, wanted me to be the focal point, so he had the semicircular DJ booth raised eight feet from the floor, and placed in the middle of the east wall.”

From his booth, Oliver would blend rare groove, disco, house, and early techno tracks. He recalls playing loads of early Strictly Rhythm singles, especially Logic’s “The Warning.” Other Oliver anthems heard in the otherworldly room included “Sweat” by Jay Williams, Nightmares on Wax’ “Dextrous,” Sweet Exorcist’s “Testone,” and another early Warp Records’ smash, “Tricky Disco.”

“That room had an ethereal feel to it,” Oliver recalls. ”Not only from it being entirely white, but also from the religious statues affixed to the bars. I could never tell my mum that I swore the Virgin Mary one had real eyes, and was staring at me from across the room all night. Perhaps playing five nights a week in there was a little too much for my sanity.”

One floor up was the Theatre Room, Go-Go’s largest space. During renovations, structural beams had been pulled out of the building and replaced, in order to raise this room’s already high ceiling by an additional six feet. The Theatre Room was painted a rich, dark burgundy, had faux columns on the walls, huge mirrors and multiple bars.

“Where the White Room was meant to be housey, cool and slick, the Theatre Room was meant to be heavy and pounding,” describes Khaimovich.

DJ James ‘St. Bass’ Vandervoort with bartender Michael Quintas. Photo courtesy of Cheryl Butson.

“The sound was amazing in there,” says James Vandervoort a.k.a. DJ James St. Bass, the Theatre Room’s main resident for Go-Go’s entire history. “There were two massive Electrovoice bass bins, which could knock all the bottles off of the bar. And did!”

Vandervoort, who’d gotten his start as a DJ at the Boom Boom Room, developed his skills and reputation spinning four-to-five nights a week in the raised corner booth at Go-Go. Like Oliver, Vandervoort had his ears tuned to the underground but, as St. Bass, he was also appreciated for his ability to entertain any audience. His crates contained loads of crossover faves, ranging from the likes of Prince, Deee-Lite, and RuPaul to MK’s “Burning,” Ce Ce Peniston’s “Finally,” 2 In A Room’s “Wiggle It,” and numerous Steve “Silk” Hurley remixes.

“I rarely took my eyes off the floor,” says Vandervoort of his approach. “I watched the crowd, to try and make ‘em scream! Your perfect mix and rare tunes don’t mean squat if no one is partying on the dancefloor.”

“I love James St. Bass,” enthuses Khaimovich. “To me, he’s one of the greatest DJs ever. He could make dead men dance because he had a desire to make people dance. There was no ego in James. When you had a combination of Mark on one floor and James on the other on a Saturday night, well you can’t beat that. It was beautiful.”

Initially open Thursdays through Sundays—Wednesday night’s infamous Go-Go Men would open that fall—Go-Go took a few weeks to build a steady clientele, and then caught fire. The Ballingers were also ahead of the curve in programming nights that would appeal to vastly different crowds, and it paid off. While weekends held more mainstream appeal and Thursdays were house-heavy, Wednesdays and Sundays would underscore Go-Go’s broad reach.

“One of my favourite nights was Fast Lane Sundays, with great rock in the Theatre Room, and house in the White Room,” recalls Steve Ireson, a longtime contributor to Toronto nightlife who started working for the Ballingers in 1991.

Flyer courtesy of Steve Ireson.

“I used to drive in from Hamilton every Sunday, before I started working at Go-Go. It was great for me, especially because my ‘straight’ boyfriend at the time was more of a rocker, and I loved both. Surprisingly, the two crowds mixed just fine.”

On Sundays, DJ Vania and host/co-promoter Kevin “KC” Carlisle rocked the Theatre Room. They were also the team behind Boom Boom Room’s wildly successful Sgt. Rocks Wednesdays, and brought the concept to Go-Go.

James St. Bass, K.C., and Vania in a Sgt. Rocks promo photo shot at Go-Go. Image courtesy of James Vandervoort.

“Working Sunday nights with Vania spinning was the place to be for me,” says Cheryl Butson, a Go-Go bartender for its full run. “Vania and lighting guy Jimmy Lynch did a great job of taking a big club room and giving it a real dark, underground feel.”

Like Ireson, Butson appreciated Go-Go’s versatility, and the variety of people there on Sundays.

“On one floor there would be house music, with people dancing and dressed to the nines, while on the next floor it was heavy rock, long hair, and leather jackets—with a total mix on the rooftop.”

The single-monikered Vania tells me he’s “remarkably hazy” about his many months of spinning at Go-Go, but especially enjoyed DJing in the more intimate setting of the lounge.

“Honestly,” says Vania, “I had my eye on New York, and wanted to get out of Toronto.” (He would relocate to N.Y.C. to work for the Ballingers late in 1991.)

Vandervoort, who brought the house to Go-Go’s White Room on Sundays, was also the anchor resident at the club’s other signature night: Go-Go Men on Wednesdays. He played in the Theatre Room while Oliver, who’d been a resident at Tazmanian Ballroom’s popular Rock & Roll Fag Bar in the late ’80s, DJed on the second floor.

Poster image courtesy of James ‘St. Bass’ Vandervoort.

Go-Go Men built on the success that St. Bass and host/promoter Steven Wong had had with Boys Night Out on Thursdays at the Boom, and would become Toronto’s biggest gay weekly. While Wednesdays took a few weeks to build, they would soon attract crowds of 600-1,000 party boys, fashionistas, warehouse heads, and women each week.

“The thing that gave Go-Go Men that extra boost was that Halloween fell on a Wednesday our first year, and everybody came out for that, in full costume,” recalls social butterfly Wong, then a costume designer and co-promoter of warehouse parties.

“It was very over the top,” he says. “People didn’t dress up in monster outfits or whatever. The thing to do was to emulate the supermodels and what was going on in fashion. If you were going out in drag, you were going out as Linda Evangelista wearing Chanel couture or something. At that point, vogueing and supermodels were very popular, and everyone wanted to be glamorous. Go-Go was very glamorous.”

Promo image courtesy of LAEddy

With visits from fashion-magazine editors, designers including Marc Jacobs and Michael Kors, and gay celebs including Elton John and Rupert Everett, Go-Go Men ran for more than two full years.

“Friends who worked in stores on Bloor Street told me that people would come in and buy special outfits just for their Wednesday nights,” says Wong, now half of womenswear label Greta Constantine. “They’d go in looking like a million dollars, only to get totally trashed.”

“I think Go-Go Men is where I developed my liking for tequila,” shares Ireson who, as a manager, had special duties required of him.

“I would have to help the hot shooter boys into their tequila-belt harnesses. I also have some fond memories of hot-tub parties on the rooftop patio. Go-Go Men was an absolute blast, with line-ups down the street.”

Go-Go, in fact, became notorious for long line-ups, then largely unheard of in the area.

“Go-Go was the first club to bring really big crowds,” states Khaimovich. “On weekends, we had lines all the way around to the CHUM building’s entranceway at Queen and John. Long-weekend Sundays were absolutely insane. We would open up at 8 p.m., and by then, a line-up five-or-six people deep ran to John.”

Hot dog vendors certainly took note.

“That was before all the licensing came in for their carts,” Khaimovich says. “We used to have hot-dog wars outside the club; they used to pull knives on each other, fighting for spots. We’d collect rent money off the hot dog guys for the club—they were making money off of our crowds. I was the head doorman, and worked with a very good-looking farmboy, named Owen Young, at the front door. One night, a hot dog guy didn’t want to pay the club so we took his cart, and put it in the middle of Richmond Street.”

Go-Go Bartenders Cheryl Butson (left) and Allan with cigarette girl Bastian. Photo courtesy of Butson.

Soon, with nightclubs like Klub Max opening around the corner, on Peter, Richmond was busy with traffic.

“Within two to three years, there were many clubs in the area, like Limelight and later Joker,” says Vandervoort. “But after Stilife, Go-Go was the place that anchored what would become the ‘club district.’ Even during the time we were open at Go-Go, I felt like I was living a lyric from Nina Hagen’s “New York New York”—“The newest club is opening up, the newest club is opening up…” Everyone wanted to try and repeat the success from the moment Go-Go opened, it seemed.”

Very few large, mainstream clubs would be such a hotbed for house, techno, and emerging sounds from the electronic underground. Vandervoort—by then also playing 23 Hop, warehouse parties and hosting his Harddrive mix show on CIUT—worked to “remain as cutting edge as possible for a mainstream club.

“I could drop Mike Dunn’s ‘Magic Feet,’ The Underground Solution’s ‘Luv Dancin’‘ or rave-y tunes like Psychotropic’s ‘Hypnosis‘ because I had seen people go nuts for them at underground parties.”

Oliver offers another window onto this exhilarating time in Toronto club history.

“A crew from Windsor showed up at Go-Go one night and handed me a stack of test presses from a brand new label called Plus 8. These early Richie Hawtin and John Acquaviva productions caused quite a stir. A revolution was bubbling under the surface in The White Room, about to explode two blocks away at 318 Richmond.”

Fired suddenly one late summer night in 1991 by “a well-lubricated” Lon Ballinger for not having Ballinger’s specific request on hand to play long after the club had closed (“he demanded I play a Stradivarius waltz.”), Oliver would take his record crates to 318 Richmond and help create local history.

“Leaving Go-Go was probably the most pivotal moment of my career,” says the DJ, now long synonymous with The Guvernment’s Saturday nights. “The following week, Wesley Thuro asked me to take over 23 Hop on Saturdays and, within a few short weeks, Toronto’s rave scene was truly born there.”

“Mark Oliver is one of the greatest DJs that this city has ever produced,” says Khaimovich. “Mark could see the future, and had an edge.”

Go-Go bartenders Michel Quintas, Cheryl Butson (centre), Kerry Mcinerney. Photo courtesy of Butson.

Who else played/worked there: After Oliver re-located, a then-unknown DJ, Kevin Williams, was hired to play Wednesdays through Saturdays in the White Room. It was his first club residency, and he came heavy with the house and hip-hop.

“Thursdays were my favourite,” says Williams. “They started off as a throwaway night—empty, especially in the White Room. Since I didn’t have anyone to play to, I would go through a stack of new house tracks, most of which I’d purchased that same evening from Play De Record.

“I met Abel Sylla—every house DJ’s fave dancer—and Kenny Glasgow, and they hung out. They helped spread the word, and in a period of four-to-five weeks, we emptied RPM’s disco nights, and brought everyone to the White Room. Not a single flyer was handed out.”

Many other bricklayers of Toronto’s house music community—like Nick Holder, Dino & Terry, Matt C, Peter, Tyrone & Shams, and Eric Ling—were soon seen at Go-Go on Thursdays.

“They brought me into the underground house scene,” credits Williams. “Prior to this, I had no idea you could go somewhere after 2 a.m.

“Go-Go Thursdays also brought a lot of different ethnicities together,” he points out. “The crowd was definitely a new urban mix of young club-heads-to-be.”

At a time when management at many large nightclubs would fully discourage DJs from playing hip-hop, Williams deftly mixed it into his sets.

“One busy Thursday, Steve Ireson came up to the booth during a hip-hop set,” Williams recalls. “Everyone was jumping up and down like kids in a bouncy castle. Black Sheep had already skipped twice, so I started the track over from the top. Steve asked me calmly, ‘Everything okay?’ and then asked matter-of-factly, ‘Hey, do you think you can tone it down just a bit?’ This was odd because he was very liberal, and never asked me to cut the hip-hop, so I wondered why. He said, ‘Well, I was just downstairs, and I can see the ceiling buckling up and down.’”

DJ Mark Falco was also a key resident later into Go-Go’s history. Having played at popular gay clubs like Komrads and Bar One, Falco was initially hired to work lights in the Theatre Room, complementing the sounds of St. Bass at Go-Go Men. Soon after, Falco would DJ in the White Room on Wednesdays, and eventually played his then-signature tunes, like Aly-us’ “Follow Me,” Kym Sims’ “Too Blind To See It,” and Liberty City’s “Some Lovin’” several nights a week until the club’s close.

Go-Go dancer. Photo courtesy of Kim Ackroyd Oka.

“Standout Go-Go memories include Stephen Wong and Rommel doing runway in knockoff Mugler motorcycle corsets, and other White Room happenings,” says Falco, a sought-after DJ to this day. “I always loved that room on men’s night for the breakout bus-stop lines, and for the fierce vogue/runway action that would happen late at night.”

Vandervoort adds some cherished moments of his own, experienced at Go-Go primarily on Sundays.

“I met a lot of heroes, like Juan Atkins and Larry Heard a.k.a. Mr. Fingers, who was in on a Sunday night with Robert Owens. Roger S came and danced to my set!  And I had a great chat with Neil Tennant from Pet Shop Boys, who had a private party in the White Room one night after their concert. He came up to the booth and we chatted between mixes for half an hour. At one point, I said, ‘I think I have one of your favourite records here in my disco crate,’ and pulled out Nuance’s ‘Love Ride.’ He howled, and said, ‘You know, we based our whole first album on that track.’ You can’t ever forget what it’s like to have those kinds of heroes in your DJ booth.”

Go-Go busboys Jeremy Markoe and Dave Baker. Photo courtesy of Cheryl Butson.

But it was not all fun ‘n’ games for Go-Go DJs and staff. Working for the Ballingers could be challenging, by many accounts.

“So much of Go-Go was up and down—the stairs, the crowds, the fun, the not-fun,” admits Vandervoort. “Never for me before or since has a club so perfectly fit the cliché of ‘It was the best and worst of times.’ I knew I was fortunate to work so much but, also, if you worked there, you knew how many people came and went, and under what strange circumstances.”

“The Ballingers were notorious for firing their managers,” confirms Ireson. “I alone was fired three times—and hired back twice.”

“For all their faults, when they were sober, the Ballingers actually treated their staff spectacularly,” offers Khaimovich. “When they were drunk, they were erratic. If they kissed your forehead, you’d either get a raise or get fired. I was fired three times by them—twice hired back, the first time with a big raise.”

Go-Go bar staff Ian Bullen and Drew Rowsome. Photo courtesy of Cristy-Jane Byrom.

As evidence, many Go-Go staffers also worked at other Ballinger clubs, including original managers Mike Ibrahim, Anthony Rofosco, and Steve McMinn. Bartenders including Butson, Cristy Byrom, and Drew Rowsome also worked other Ballinger clubs, as did bar-backs Jeremy Markoe, Barry Gerreau, and “Super Dave” Baker. (Markoe even followed the Ballingers to New York, where he now resides.)

Many other members of the Go-Go staff became familiar faces on this city’s nightscape. Bartenders Daniel and Michel Quintas would later partner with Khaimovich to open Insomnia on Bloor, while Rosemary Martin and Holly Batson later worked at The Guvernment, and door man James Benecke opened both the Kat Club and Apothecary Music Bar.

Bartender Holly Batson at Go-Go. Photo courtesy of Cristy-Jane Byrom.

Most interviewed for this story mention that the Go-Go team was tight.

“Some of my fondest memories of Go-Go are of how we, as a staff, would go out all together after closing up,” recalls Ireson. “We’d show up at boozecans or warehouse parties as a crew.”

After Ireson was fired the final time, he went on to manage at clubs including Factory and OZ, where both Williams and Vandervoort would DJ, as well as 5ive and CiRCA. Go-Go alumni was hired at each venue. Ireson is now co-owner (with husband Chris Schroer) of deli-café The Hogtown Cure.

Vandervoort summarizes a statement expressed by many interviewees, albeit from a DJ’s perspective.

“I loved the first two years at Go-Go and had some of my best and most cherished nights there. It was also DJ boot camp—a total woodshed workout. I was very burned out and ready for a change when the end came, and I never worked exclusively in one club or for one owner ever again. It was definitely a case of all my eggs in one basket, and, trust me, they cracked!”

Despite requests, Lon Ballinger declined to comment for this story.

Steve Ireson (left) and Boris Khaimovich (right) with busboy David Baker.
Photo courtesy of Cheryl Butson.

What happened to it: “Go-Go was like a comet,” says Khaimovich of the club’s trajectory. “It came out of nowhere, was shining so bright that you would get blinded, and it died really fast.

“Go-Go started crashing within two years. We’d been doing such high numbers that I think everybody had seen it, done it, and moved on to something else. By that point, other spots had opened up.” (Khaimovich himself would go on to manage Limelight and now resides in Northumberland County where he indulges his love of horses.)

“Also, after about a year-and-a-half or so, the Ballingers started spending a lot more time in New York, on building Webster Hall. Their focus changed, and honestly, Webster Hall sucked the money. You could practically see suitcases leaving Go-Go and going to Webster Hall.”

Go-Go ad from 1992, courtesy of Cheryl Butson.

Attempts to revive Go-Go included painting the White Room and renaming it The Black Angel Room. The Ballingers’ attention was greatly divided. Not only had they purchased New York club The Ritz in 1990, and begun the massive undertaking of re-opening it as Webster Hall, they’d also bought The Courthouse on Adelaide East, and Mississauga all-ages club Superstars, which they opened as The World in June of 1992.

“The Ballingers were very aggressively building an empire, and I think they got spread too thin,” says Vandervoort, now a DJ who plays selective gigs, including the Black Crack Funk Attack monthly, and works by day in student support services at a city college.

“To their credit, they got what they wanted with Webster Hall,” concludes Vandervoort. “To my mind, that venture was built and financed off a lot of people’s blood, sweat, and tears at Go-Go and the Bop.”

Vania, who DJed at Webster Hall for its first six years, returned home in 1998, and now spins at venues including the Bovine Sex Club on Fridays.

“After seven years in New York with the Ballingers, it became a little wearing. But the last time I was there, they were getting keys to the city, and Webster Hall had been designated a historic landmark. Americans love a success story.”

Go-Go closed quietly in the summer of 1993. 250 Richmond St. W. soon re-opened as Whiskey Saigon where Go-Go veteran DJs including Oliver, Williams, Falco, and Vania all played. Joe Nightclub followed. The building now houses the head office of Bell Media’s Radio operations, including the studios of CHUM-FM and Flow 93.5.

250 Richmond Street W. in early 2013.

Thank you to participants Boris Khaimovich, Cheryl Butson, James Vandervoort, Kevin Williams, Mark Falco, Mark Oliver, Steve Ireson, Stephen Wong, and Vania, as well as Cristy-Jane Byrom, Jeremy Markoe, Kim Oka Ackroyd, and LAEddy.

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

Article originally published July 27, 2012 by The Grid online (thegridto.com).

As the Entertainment District grew more sophisticated in the 1990s, this proudly shabby and unpretentious nightclub drew crowds by the thousands each week to a sleepy stretch of Adelaide.

BY: DENISE BENSON

Club: Limelight, 250 Adelaide St. W.

Years in operation: 1993-2003

History: Before the Entertainment District became synonymous with dance clubs, the well-worn brick building at 250 Adelaide St. W. was home to businesses including a print shop and Old Favorites Books.

Located near the corner of Duncan, the building was spotted by businessman Zisi Konstantinou, who saw its potential as a club space. Richmond Street east of Spadina was already attracting large weekend crowds in the early 1990s, thanks to venues like Charles Khabouth’s pioneering Stilife and the Ballinger brothers’ hotspot Go-Go, which later became Whiskey Saigon. Adelaide east of Spadina was not yet a dancer’s destination.

Konstantinou’s next smart move was to hire Boris Khaimovich as general manager of his club-to-be. Khaimovich—who’d worked the door and managed at Toronto clubs including The Copa, Boom Boom Room, and Go-Go, brought his vision to the project—and was Limelight’s guiding light for eight of its 10 years.

Boris Khaimovich (left) and Zisi Konstantinou at Limelight. Photo © by Steven Lungley. All rights reserved.

“Zisi hadn’t owned a club before,” explains Khaimovich over the phone from his Port Hope home. “His dad had a strip club in Cambridge, but Zisi didn’t yet know much about the nightclub business. I came out of Ballinger organizations where you very much speak your mind because, if you don’t, you’ll just get eaten—because those guys see through bullshit.

“I came in to meet with Zisi about six weeks before the club opened. He told me what he wanted to do, and I said, ‘The concept you have just won’t work.’ Everybody who opens up a club for their first time thinks they’ve just reinvented the wheel. So their club is going to be for high-end crowds, with a dress code, with a $20 cover charge for people to come in. I said, ‘Let’s not do that. Let’s not be silly.’ My argument has always been that I’d rather take a little bit of money for a long time than take a lot of money in the short term.”

Khaimovich got it right. Limelight opened on March 10, 1993 and the crowds grew steadily over its first year. The club’s dress code was dropped during that time, cover charge and drinks were deliberately affordable, and staff was hired to reflect the fact that Limelight had no pretensions of being anything other than a fun, friendly social spot.

“I didn’t want to be a shooting star and just come and go quickly,” Khaimovich stresses. “I never wanted to be the coolest club—I’d seen what happened to Go-Go. The entire mentality behind Limelight was to be like a comfortable pair of jeans.”

Photo courtesy of James Vandervoort.

Why it was important: Limelight’s attitude-free “Give the customer what they want” approach brought tens of thousands annually through its huge metallic, garage-door façade.

“Those garage doors were fake,” chuckles Khaimovich about the famous entranceway. “Zisi bought everything at auctions so whatever he bought, we had to find a way to make it fit. He must have gotten a deal on galvanized siding so we put [the doors] up on the outside of the bottom two floors of the club. He found toilets at yard sales and auctions too, so we always had mismatched toilets.”

Aesthetically, Limelight was the antithesis of slick. The club’s two levels—initially there was a dancefloor level and balcony overlooking it—were painted with blues, reds and greens, and featured a whole lot of stools and wood banquettes upholstered in black vinyl. Enormous murals painted by artist Marc Sorozan were black-lit for a 3-D effect. Wearing black clothing at Limelight meant every bit of lint you carried would be revealed.

The club also boasted “the biggest mirror ball in the city at that time,” according to Khaimovich. It nicely complemented Limelight’s advanced, intelligent lighting system and thundering, crystal-clear sound.

Boxer Donovan Boucher (at back) and friends at opening night. Photo by Steven Lungley. All rights reserved.

Part of Limelight’s appeal was its size. With an initial legal capacity of 650 people—1,100 after the club expanded to three floors and added its popular rooftop patio—you could always find a spot to call your own, even as the crowds grew larger than the club could allow.

“During our peak years—say years three, four and five—we were the third volume beer seller in Ontario,” says Khaimovich. “The only places that were ahead of us were SkyDome and Maple Leaf Gardens.”

During these years, Limelight operated six nights per week, with a popular fetish party run monthly on Tuesdays by Boris and Madame X bringing the club’s total to an exhausting 28 open nights monthly. The programming was wildly eclectic, ranging from commercial weekends and meat-market university nights to rock, rave, retro. and gay weeklies.

Peter the Greek (left) with Craig Pettigrew (right) and friend.
Photo courtesy of Pettigrew.

Konstantinou brought in Peter Ivals a.k.a. Peter the Greek—a club and rave mainstay who also DJed within Greek-community party circles—to anchor the high-energy Saturday nights, which he did for Limelight’s entire duration. Khaimovich booked DJ James St. Bass, a known talent from Boom Boom Room, Go-Go, and OZ to hold down Friday nights.

“Of all the club residencies I ever had, Limelight was the most challenging to play,” the man also known as James Vandervoort tells me. “The owner was pretty picky about who he wanted in the club, so it was very geared to commercial dance music on weekends. At the time, that meant Euro-dance as well as popular house: think Snap!, Haddaway, Culture Beat, and Ace of Base. I didn’t care for this sound personally, but the crowd loved it.”

Vandervoort recalls playing favourites like Jam & Spoon’s “Right in the Night” alongside whatever disco, underground house, rock, rave, and Prince he could get away with.

“I was there to entertain, and make people dance,” says Vandervoort. “And I did. It was worth it for the sound system and the hard-partying people. The energy in Limelight could be extraordinary. Fridays were very successful; I would show up to open at 9 p.m. and the crowd would be lined up down the street.”

In addition to DJing Fridays for Limelight’s first two years, Vandervoort held down a number of other roles at the club. Conveniently, he lived in a studio space across the street—“so I’d get a busboy to help me carry crates home”—and could easily slip over to bartend or DJ on various nights, including the gay Wednesdays promoted by Eric Robertson during Limelight’s first year.

Limelight promo image courtesy of Eric Robertson.

“The format was different from a regular club night, and completely different for the gay scene,” recalls Robertson by email. “It was more like a weekly rave. All the best DJs wanted to play.”

It helped that Robertson had connections in both worlds. He’d go-go danced at popular boy weeklies in venues like Boom Boom, Go-Go, and The Phoenix, had thrown underground parties at spots including the Sears Warehouse, and worked with people including Don Berns a.k.a. Dr. Trance and Claudio from Pleasure Force and Atlantis to produce a range of raves.

His Wednesday weekly featured an impressive array of DJs, including St. Bass, Dr. Trance, Alx of London, Dino and Terry, David Cooper, Matt C, Mitch Winthrop, Barry Harris, John E, and Deko-ze.

“It was the mix of DJs that really made it work,” says Robertson. “The rave scene was peaking and the gay clubs were not very exciting. Ravers appreciated a nice club. Gays love a good sound system. Win-win. I loved the mix of the glow-stick kids and men with their shirts off!”

The night eventually gave way to PURE Wednesdays (more on this to come), but helped establish Limelight as far more than a typical commercial club. Also to that end, DJ Iain’s Childhood’s End Sundays—later re-branded as Primal Vision—was a signature night that ran for a full seven years.

Flyer courtesy of Erin O’Connor.

Iain McPherson is one of this city’s great pioneering forces in the meeting of alternative, industrial, and electronic sounds. Though he held down weekly residencies for the better part of two decades at clubs including Nuts & Bolts, The Copa, OZ, Catch 22, Lizard Lounge, and Empire Dancebar, McPherson never got stuck in a rut. He always looked forward and mixed beautifully between new wave, new beat, synth-pop, industrial, techno, Manchester indie-dance, hip-hop, and more. Sundays at Limelight was his final DJ residency, and the one at which he played most across-the-board.

“I was once told by a fellow DJ, Terry ‘TK’ Kelly, that I had been able to carve out a unique space for myself because I had one foot in the guitar world and another in that of the disco,” says McPherson. “Such diversity has become quite commonplace now, but I don’t think there were that many jocks doing so back then. Nights were either Top 40 or pretty heavily themed.

“Sundays at Limelight attracted one of the most diverse, open-minded crowds musically that I have experienced. They would happily get down to any of Ministry, White Zombie, Prodigy, The Orb, Primal Scream, Massive Attack, or Bjork. If we got them really wound-up, they would body surf to Metallica, and then I could pull a complete left turn and drop Tom Jones’ ‘It’s Not Unusual‘ or Leo Sayers’ ‘You Make Me Feel Like Dancing.’ They were so much fun to play for!”

Photo © by Steven Lungley. All rights reserved.

Sundays also grew from initial audiences of 100 to 1,500 or more on long weekends, thanks to the promotional efforts of James Kekanovich. Today’s promoters, who may just rely too heavily on Facebook and social media, should take note.

“As Iain’s promoter, over the years I distributed approximately one million invitations for Sundays at Limelight, with most of these extended on a face-to-face basis at concerts and raves,” says Kekanovich, also sharing a favourite Limelight memory.

“As Iain and I are Star Trek fans, an especially memorable moment was when Michael Dorn, otherwise know as Worf, attended a night. I was at the front door greeting people and he came up to ask if he could use the washroom. Of course, I let him in. Like commanding the Enterprise, Iain directed the night from the DJ booth, Worf was in the crowd, observing the Sunday-night dance rituals. Sunday nights at Limelight were an adventure, boldly going where no club night had gone before.”

Dancers at PURE Wednesdays. Photo courtesy of Jay Futronic.

Who else played/worked there: Limelight was an unlikely bridge over which many a maturing raver ventured into a licensed nightclub. Their transition was, in particular, eased by the highly successful PURE Wednesdays produced by DJs John E and Peter Ivals with DJ/promoter Craig Pettigrew. Beginning in the summer of 1996, PURE ran for four years, with fellow core residents including Myka, Bianchi, Mystical Influence, Sniper, and Big League Chu. House was heard on the main floor, classic house on the second while from the rooftop patio boomed jungle and breaks.

“I noticed the crowds getting older and wanted to bring that rave vibe into a club where you could have a few drinks and listen to great music,” says John E, who produced and played at many of this city’s largest raves as a co-founder of Pleasure Force and a heavily booked DJ. “At one point, it was PURE and Industry holding down the club scene. I think we opened the door for promoters to bring that music into the clubs.

“The start of PURE was slow, but the owner and manager were patient. We hit our stride during the second summer. It was off the hook, with line-ups down to the fire station.”

“The community really embraced us, and came out to not only listen to great music, but to socialize,” adds Pettigrew, who also handed out thousands of flyers in his day. “I think we had a great run largely because we never made the night about the guest DJs—we really focussed on what talent was in Toronto. ”

Adam Freeland DJs at PURE Wednesdays. Photo courtesy of Jay Futronic.

PURE talent was plentiful, with local guests including Nathan Barato, Kenny Glasgow, Jason Palma, Addy, Matt C, Nick Holder, Peter and Tyrone, The Stickmen, and Paranoid Jack.

That said, many global names also graced the night’s booths, with mention made of Adam Freeland, Donald Glaude, DJ Czech, John Acquaviva, DJ Dan, Hipp-E, and Anne Savage.

“We loved Lafleche from Sona Montreal—he always threw down some amazing music and was a crowd favorite,” says Pettigrew. “So many great people played, but I always loved it when John E would get the prime slot. He had an amazing way of playing tracks at the right time, and getting the crowd to explode.”

Limelight was successful for reasons beyond its music. At its heart was also a diverse staff, many of whom would go on to careers in the nightlife industry. Orin Bristol worked as head of security and then assistant manager before going on to run the show at System Soundbar and now works for INK Entertainment. Brothers Michel and Daniel Quintas were long-serving bartenders. (Quintas now owns Annex staple Insomnia Café.)

Bartender Dede Gilser is frequently mentioned, both for being “super friendly and drop-dead gorgeous,” as McPherson says.

Popular Limelight bartender Dede Gilser. Photo courtesy of her.

“I have a lot of great memories of Sunday nights when DJ Iain played, which is surprising due to the amount of JD I consumed at the time,” says Gilser, who worked at Limelight for five years.

“One of my favourite groups of regulars on Sundays featured one sweet kid who, with great regularity, would slam-dance himself into a nose bleed. I’d grab a fresh bar rag with some cool water and wash his face off. It was strangely endearing.

“Also, my very last night at Limelight was a Sunday. Unlike the normal scenario of customer weeping to the bartender, I wept like someone stabbed me.”

PURE Wednesdays flyers courtesy of Craig Pettigrew.

What happened to it: The spirit of Limelight slowly sunk as key people left over time. DJ Iain played his last gig ever on the final Sunday of 1999—cheered on by hundreds of regulars and fêted with a cake, speeches, and sparklers.

Khaimovich, who’d only ever taken two vacations during his eight years, departed in 2001, going on to co-own Insomnia Café with Quintas, consult for a number of downtown clubs and, eventually, open Maple Crescent Farm, where he lives with his children and wife, Kendra Batek.

“She was a shooter girl at Limelight,” says Khaimovich. “Fifteen years later, she’s my boss.”

Many say Limelight lost its spark after Khaimovich’s departure. Rob Marchand and then Arthur Geringas would become managers, but by then owner Konstantinou had turned his attention to other projects, including System Soundbar and the building in which it was housed, all of which he owned.

Limelight closed its doors on January 18, 2003. It was later developed into a club dubbed Afterlife. Today, it is the home of London Tap House where, ironically, Boris Khaimovich works the door on weekends.

James Vandervoort, who has a professional daytime career, has returned to DJing as James St. Bass on occasion.

John E also continues to DJ select dates. He’ll play as part of the Toronto Legends series, alongside Paul Walker, Goldfinger, and Keith Young, at Parlour (270 Adelaide St. W.) on Aug. 24.

Craig Pettigrew is a driving force at both GEM Events and the annual BPM Festival—of which he is a co-founder—in Playa del Carmen, Mexico. Pettigrew recently re-located to Los Angeles where he is set to open underground club Sound come September. His latest production, “No Crash,” sees release on Younan Music at month’s end.

Thank you to Boris Khaimovich, Craig Pettigrew, Dede Gilser, Eric Robertson, Iain McPherson, James Kekanovich, James Vandervoort, and John E Pallotta for sharing their memories. Thanks also to Erin O’Connor, Jay Futronic, and photographer Steven Lungley for the images.

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

Article originally published April 12, 2012 by The Grid online (TheGridTO.com).

In the latest edition of her nightlife-history series, Denise Benson revisits the Entertainment District institution that brought underground rave culture to Toronto’s mainstream club crowd at the dawn of the millennium.

BY: DENISE BENSON

Club: System Soundbar, 117 Peter

Years in operation: 1999-2005

History: System Soundbar was an unlikely home for electronic dance music with a decidedly underground bent. Opened smack dab in the middle of the commercial club district, System was owned by Zisi Konstantinou—former owner/operator of successful Adelaide Street spot Limelight—with his partners Spyros Theoharis and Boris Khaimovich. They hired former Limelight employee Orin Bristol as general manager, and the group worked to develop a plan.

“Zisi purchased the building as a property investment, and we were trying to figure out what to do with the basement as it was just being used as storage space,” shares Bristol. “We spoke about doing a nightclub, but thought it would be a hard sell for a mainstream crowd as it was in a basement.

“At the same time, the city was cracking down on raves and there were less and less spots to do parties in. Because of our Wednesday nights at Limelight [with EDM/rave DJs Craig Pettigrew and John E], we had come to know the guys from [promoters] Lifeforce Industries. Between Craig and them, we talked about doing rave-style events in the space.”

And so Bristol—a club manager with strong vision who now works for INK Entertainment—gained an EDM education. System Soundbar opened on March 18, 1999. Lifeforce Industries, the umbrella organization that produced massive raves under the Dose, Renegades, and Syrous banners, brought underground sounds to the fun-fur and fat-pants crowd on Fridays. Pettigrew and his Metro crew attracted maturing ravers on Saturdays. Other early System weeklies included FungleJunk Tuesdays and Breakfest Sundays. People flocked to the raw space.

“It was a dark, grungy basement nightclub originally,” says Bristol. “We spent very little to get it done because we just weren’t sure what we were going to get. Also, the crowd was coming from raving in warehouses and in fields so only the minimum was necessary.

“It was a huge success—people loved the underground feel and the late-night vibe. Our biggest issue in the first year was the sound. The system wasn’t good enough, and not coming from the genre, we didn’t understand that it was all about the music.”

Though System’s sound would be majorly upgraded over time, the club faced a bigger crisis soon after its first year. Some of the Lifeforce owners became partners in Turbo Nightclub (later known as Sound Emporium) and soon System Soundbar’s core group of weekend promoters all decamped, DJs in tow, to this club around the corner.

According to Bristol, “We mainstream nightclub guys were left to figure it out.“

Lineup outside of System. Photo by Ryan Parks.

Why it was important: System Soundbar operated during a pivotal time for electronic dance music in Toronto. Not only were our massive raves under heavy scrutiny from the law, City, and media, there were very few licensed nightclubs devoted to underground electronics. The Guvernment was the biggie, but its musical focus was limited. The house-heavy Industry Nightclub was waning, and would close in summer 2000.

“System was different because it was its own little animal,” says Deko-ze, a top Toronto DJ who would play at the Soundbar throughout most of its history. “It was a perfect mid-size club, unlike something like The Docks or Guvernment, so it didn’t need to prove something by being big. It was about top quality, forward-thinking vibes and attitudes. System was based around the music.”

Deko-ze DJs at System. Photo by Ryan Parks.

With a legal capacity of 1,100, System Soundbar was an ideal size and fit for a spread of EDM sounds. System offered a new secure spot for aging ravers, and a comfortable entry point for new clubbers to experience underground EDM culture.

“System Soundbar started with the 19-plus old-school rave crowd as ravers started to grow up and turn into clubbers,” agrees Jesse Brown, who worked with the Lifeforce crew in promoting events like FungleJunk, and went on to produce events including the World Electronic Music Festival.

“Later, when almost all the raves had disappeared, System was the place you could still find just about all styles of EDM, and hear the same DJs we would experience in the big warehouses.”

After the departure of System’s first successful weekend nights, a variety of events were tested, but it was through Bristol’s meeting with Patrick Aranain, a.k.a. DJ Evil P, “that we found the guys who would be the foundation for everything that System Soundbar turned into.”

Local talent was placed front and centre as Aranain introduced Bristol to DJs and promoters who launched the weeklies that most clubbers still associate with System Soundbar: d&b and breaks night BodyRoc Tuesdays (later Loose Wednesdays), pioneering progressive-house event Breathe Fridays, and heavy house hitter Bang Saturdays.

“Patrick was a good DJ, a great booker, and an excellent friend,” says Bristol of the DJ who would rule Bang’s booth for its multi-year run, but who passed away in late 2009. “He taught me what I needed to know about this scene to succeed in the following years.”

Bang was a unique house night in that it ran from deep and soulful to funky, tribal, and dark. Frequent guests included Roy Davis Jr., Derrick Carter, and MC Flipside, with Evil P’s co-residents including Dino & Terry, Deep Groove, Lady Linzee, and, in the lounge, Michael Drury.

Dino & Terry with Patrick Aranain a.k.a. Evil P (right). Photo by Ryan Parks.

“Soulful house was making a bit of a resurgence at the time, with songs like “Finally” by KOT bridging a few different scenes,” recalls Dino Demopoulos, who, with brother Terry, was known for deep-house productions and DJ sets in more intimate clubs, like The Living Room, Element, and 5ive.

“It was seen to be a nice complement to the harder stuff that Patrick played, which is why they booked us initially. System was a big club, with a great sound system, and was always pumping with energy so it was a great challenge [for us]. There was a huge range of guest DJs booked to play, from Louie Vega to Bad Boy Bill. Bang was a very consistent night.”

Patrick Aranain also introduced Bristol to promoters Mike Grecco and Jose Rodriguez who, along with DJs Mark Scaife, Deko-ze and, soon after, Luke Fair, and Matt Coleridge, would be responsible for making Breathe Fridays arguably the most influential progressive house weekly in North America.

“The Guvernment was trance, while Industry was house and techno; progressive was an emerging market,” says Bristol. “No one in the city was doing two back-to-back house nights at the time, but we all made it work.”

Matt Coleridge. Photo by Ryan Parks.

“The sound had matured from progressive trance into progressive house with darker, more tribal undertones, and it needed a home,” explains Coleridge, a professional DJ since 1998 who caught his break as part of Breathe. “Much like the way Industry had sought to bring a stable weekly club venue for house music, Breathe looked to accomplish that for progressive house.”

They did so, attracting 800 to 1,000 people each week, with Breathe’s core residents as the main draw.

Mark Scaife. Photo by Ryan Parks.

“If you were there for a full night, you heard a lot of tech house and techno integrated with the progressive, alongside a few big riffs and the more melodic progressive,” details Mark Scaife, a seasoned DJ who held it down during Breathe’s entire four-year run.

“As we built Breathe, it got more structured towards that techy progressive sound, a little more edgy. For a while there, we went pretty dark, just seeing how far we could take it. We had a lot of leeway; people were up for a different sound. Breathe was an experiment that worked really well.”

Breathe worked so well that its resident DJs gained international tour dates and notoriety as influential publications like Mixmag and DJ Magazine wrote about the night. Other Toronto dance clubs also took note and booked more progressive house DJs. Big artists like Deep Dish, Hybrid, and Infusion all graced the Breathe roster, but other guests weren’t so established at the time.

“Steve Lawler, Danny Howells, and Lee Burridge all got their Toronto start at Breathe,” points out Coleridge. “System brought many, many international DJs to Toronto for the first time, DJs who are still regulars in this city. It was also home to a huge number of DJs who, like me, really got their start playing in this city.”

This is something that Orin Bristol remains very proud of.

“Basically, all of us were the little guys,” he states. “We were the mainstream club guys who didn’t initially know anything about the electronic scene, and the smaller DJs and promoters who had never been given an opportunity to be on the front lines. We gathered them all up, put them under one roof, and they flourished.”

Shy FX. Photo by Ryan Parks.

Who else played/worked there: During its near-seven-year-stint, System Soundbar was also a constant home to drum ‘n’ bass. The sound was huge in Toronto, but rarely were d&b DJs given weekly clubs nights, especially in sizable venues. Soon after FungleJunk’s demise, drum ‘n’ bass DJ and Empire Productions promoter Ryan Smith, a.k.a. Ryan Ruckus, came on board. In June of 2001, all-ages drum ‘n’ bass and breaks night BodyRoc was born.

“Aside from making a point to highlight the abundance of amazing talent from right here in Toronto, we brought in big international d&b talent such as Nicky Blackmarket, Teebee, Mickey Finn, Marley Marl, and others,” says Smith. “But it was our first sold-out event with Shy FX and MC Skibadee that had us settle into System nicely. [Listen to a recording here.] I remember a lot of the staff poking fun at the music we played at first but, in little time, we made believers out of most of them.”

Jesse Brown of Destiny (far left) with Ryan Ruckus (far right). Photo courtesy of Brown.

Ryan Smith a.k.a. DJ Ryan Ruckus. Photo by Ryan Parks.

A year later, Smith and Empire switched it up and launched the 19-plus Loose Wednesdays, a weekly that Bristol describes as “The reason why I’ve done d&b events in every club I’ve run since then.”

With rotating resident DJs including Ruckus, Diligence, Mystical Influence, Marcus Visionary, Lush, and Everfresh, and a hip-hop room led by DJ Tasc, Loose was a mid-week hit.

“The enthusiasm and support poured from the top down,” says Destiny Event’s Jesse Brown, who also guested at Loose under the DJ name of originalVIBE. “Orin Bristol loved drum ‘n’ bass and was committed to showing the city how successful this music would become.”

As evidence, System Soundbar and Ryan Ruckus also hosted Loaded Saturdays through all of 2005. It was Toronto’s first-ever drum ‘n’ bass Saturday held in a large main room.

It’s impossible to list all of the local and international DJs who played at System over the years, but promoters including Fukhouse (techno and tech house) and Activate (breaks) certainly produced many other standout events.

DJ Craze and A-Trak (right) at System. Photo by Ryan Parks.

Superfunk at System, December 2005. Photo by Ryan Parks.

Additionally, hip-hop, R&B, and old-school event Superfunk Thursdays—promoted by a crew including Down With Webster’s Dave Ferris and DJed by resident John J—attracted consistently huge crowds for five full years. Top 40 and club anthems were relegated to Monday nights in the warmer half of the year, when System would be filled with foam and hot tubs.

More mainstream crowds were drawn to System by these two nights in particular, causing heated discussion on EDM message boards, as did the flashy renovations put into place in 2004. System fans debated the “mainstreaming” of the club, but there’s no denying that the hundreds of additional people who began attending System after bar hours on weekend nights added to the energy.

Richie Hawtin plays System. Photo by Ryan Parks.

Everyone I spoke to for this article has stories of nights they hold especially dear, with multiple mentions of guest DJs including Richie Hawtin, Barry Weaver, Ed Rush & Optical (hear their FungleJunk set here), A-Trak, and the personable Donald Glaude, who was even game to kill the music one night while a guest proposed to his girlfriend on the dancefloor.

“The whole place erupted with cheers, and then Donald rocked it,” recalls Bristol.

Bristol cites the night when an appearance by Mauro Picotto made him realize “DJs were like rock stars. When he started to DJ, we had to call two security guards to the front of the booth because people were trying to climb up to touch him. People were crying—men and women, it was insane. I’d never heard of this guy before I signed off on the booking the month before.”

Deko-ze, who warmed up for Picotto that night, describes another Breathe special that touched him.

“Sister Bliss, of Faithless, was guesting,” he begins, “She cued up a record and said to me, ‘You might like this next one.’ For the next seven-and-a-half-minutes, the floor was annihilated. It was the new Faithless single, ‘We Come One.’ An hour later, she puts on a record that took the crowd through an intense emotional rollercoaster, brought several people to tears, and made me close my eyes, dance like I was weightless, and shout ‘Yes!’ aloud twice. It was her own demo of ‘Deliver Me.’”

Finally, there is the legendary night when Mark Farina was booked, and a water main in 117 Peter burst. Bristol recounts that 800 people were inside the club, with 300 more in line. Refunds were offered, but Farina would still play. Few people left.

A water main burst on a night Mark Farina DJed. Few people left.

“We did well over 1,400 people,” says Bristol. “The water was to the middle of the dancefloor by the time Rotor Rooter came and shut it off, but people rolled up their pants and danced in it. That was one of our best nights ever.”

This also speaks to the “friends and family vibe” that many use to describe System Soundbar.

“It was a space where you were just accepted—young, white, transgendered, rich, women, black, gay, tall, Asian, old, men, poor, straight, everyone,” Bristol emphasizes. “I have never worked in any environment before where the customers, staff, promoters and DJs were so connected.”

System Soundbar’s final blowout on Dec. 31, 2005. Photo by Ryan Parks.

What happened to it: By 2005, Jesse Brown recalls, “Most nightclubs and bars played Top 40; EDM was on the way down, and hip-hop and R&B were on the way up. System resisted until the end.”

By later 2005, weekend nights were attracting crowds of less than 500.

“Zisi decided at that time it made more sense to be a landlord than the owner of a six-year-old club,” shares Bristol. “He knew development was coming, and all he had to do was hold on and he would make a mint.”

Demolition begins at 117 Peter. Photo courtesy of Orin Bristol.

System Soundbar went out with two large events: a family affair featuring resident DJs from Bang and Breathe on December 23, 2005 and a final New Year’s Eve blowout with DJ Danny Howells.

Konstantinou first sold the club to people who opened short-lived Top 40 spot Embassy. The entire 117 Peter Street building was later sold to developers. It has been demolished to make way for the 36-storey Tableau Condominiums.

117 Peter in April 2012. Photo by Denise Benson.

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

Article originally published March 15, 2012 by The Grid online (TheGridTO.com).

Denise Benson looks back at the massive, corporate-owned Yorkville spot that helped create Toronto’s big-ticket nightclub experience in the early 1980s.

BY: DENISE BENSON

Club: The Copa, 21 Scollard

Years in operation: 1984 – 1992  [Original article stated 1983 - 1992]

History: Yorkville dance club and concert venue The Copa made its mark as one of the largest and busiest nightclubs to emerge in early 1980s Toronto. Opened in August 1984, the hotspot was located on the south side of Scollard, in a mixed commercial and residential area.

Its owners, the Chrysalis Group, were no strangers to Yorkville, having already opened trendy restaurants Bemelmans and the Bellair Café nearby. Chrysalis, in particular its CEO Tom Kristenbrun, would also go on to open Toby’s Goodeats and Bistro 990, but Chrysalis Group would make their mark with music as well as food.

“They were rocker guys, tavern guys with long hair from North Bay who came into town with some money and bought The Ports of Call on Yonge Street, the El Mocambo on Spadina and the Jarvis House Tavern,” recalls Arnie Kliger, former owner of Stages Nightclub on Yonge Street, who also worked as assistant manager at The Copa during its first year of operation.

“They were beer and wings guys who had a dream of opening a restaurant after having the bars,” says Kliger.

Chrysalis, while still known as Consortina Inc., made their mark on 1970s Toronto with The El Mo, The Ports and 101 Jarvis, but by the early ‘80s they were hosting celebrities, society types and Toronto Film Festival parties at their Yorkville venues. Opening a mega-club was a logical new feather in their corporate cap.

The Copa may have been corporate-owned, but to place it in context, it was large (legal capacity 1100) and licensed, where most other dance clubs of the time were either unlicensed (Twilight Zone, Club Z, Focus), or licensed and located in hotels or other touristy spots, as with the CN Tower’s Sparkles disco.

The Copa, as observed from the balcony. Photo by Julie Levene, courtesy of Barry Harris.

Why it was important: In this environment, The Copa emerged all shiny and new. Chrysalis spared no expense, installing an incredible and intricate sound system, computerized lighting and lasers, and banks of television monitors on which music videos played. The DJ booth was custom-built and massive, there was a raised stage area in the middle of the narrow, rectangular-shaped room, and an overhanging balcony ran the club’s entire length.

While opinions vary as to whether this balcony added to the party by offering a primo view of the action below or dissipated the club’s energy by its placement, the young, fashionable, heavily uptown crowd packed the place. The Copa, with its 39 bartenders, VIP room and super VIP room (behind closed doors, with its own bathroom and bar), was ready to serve. In order to meet the food-to-liquor-ratio laws of the day, The Copa also had a full-time chef who cooked up the club’s infamous buffet. Opinions on the quality of the food also vary wildly, but numerous Toronto clubbers have told me they went to The Copa in part to eat a full meal.

Open Wednesday through Sunday, the club featured DJs most nights, augmented by live concerts. The Copa—along with The Diamond and, later, RPM—put Toronto on the map as far as licensed venues go, but its music format was a lot more commercial than many dance clubs of the era, especially on Fridays and Saturdays.

Early resident DJs included Terry ‘TK’ Kelly (who later established himself as the DJ at RPM) and Jeff Allan, a dance music DJ who was also an announcer at rock station Q107. Now a morning show host at Kitchener’s 570 News, Allan created extended dance mixes of rock songs during his Copa days, including this one of Glass Tiger’s “Don’t Forget Me When I’m Gone.”

Although bars at that time had to stop serving alcohol at 11 p.m. on Sundays, they were consistently among The Copa’s busiest and most musically adventurous nights. Early on, Sundays were alternative nights DJed by CFNY’s Chris Sheppard and hosted by the station’s equally infamous personalities Earl Jive and Beverly Hills.

When that crew departed to work at RPM—opened by a group that included Martin Arts, The Copa’s original general manager—Sundays morphed into one of Toronto’s first house music weeklies in a licensed club. DJ Barry Harris was hired in the spring of 1986, and thoroughly transformed Sundays during his year-and-a-half residency.

“I originally slid in quite comfortably by playing Ministry, The Cult, Beastie Boys and other CFNYish music, which I enjoyed,” recalls Harris, who had previously DJed at 101 Jarvis. “It was great playing Sunday nights as it was known as ‘alternative night’ and not commercial.

“As the alternative crowd started to discover RPM a few months later, my Sunday night music became more influenced by the Twilight Zone and [CKLN’s pioneering Sunday afternoon program] Dave’s Dance Music. Host Dave Ahmad recommended The Copa to his audience each Sunday and by fall of 1986, the crowd had completely changed. We continued to maintain an average of 1100-1300 people, but it morphed naturally into a house night. House music was really starting to explode in 1986, and soon the crowd would stop dancing and stare me down if I played rock or something like Ministry. They reacted more positively to freestyle artists like The Cover Girls.”

The line at the front door of The Copa. Photo by Julie Levene, courtesy of Barry Harris.

Harris also took on The Copa’s Saturdays for a few months in the summer of 1987, but found the crowd too mainstream for his liking.

“Sunday nights were the best, and my favourite night to play,” he says. “It was a DJ’s dream gig as the audience was magical. They really knew their music and were hungry to hear the latest house. Really, the night kind of became ‘The Twilight Zone part two’ of a weekend; if you wanted more of that sound and spirit, then you came to The Copa on a Sunday. I think the night introduced house music to a lot of people who might not have went to the Zone.”

The Copa and Twilight Zone had another key element in common: fierce, crystal clear sound designed by New York’s Richard Long, known for his systems at clubs including Paradise Garage.

“That system felt very powerful, almost overwhelming at times actually,” Harris recalls. “With an Urei mixer and three floating turntables as well, it could be quite a rush from a DJ’s point of view. The Copa was a large, rectangular warehouse space, but Richard Long thought of everything, including digital delay for speakers placed further away from the stage.”

The Copa DJ booth, with coat check below. Photo by Julie Levene, courtesy of Barry Harris.

Barry Harris with Jimmy Sommerville in The Copa’s massive DJ booth. Photo by Julie Levene, courtesy of Harris.

Harris left The Copa in October 1987 to become the main resident DJ at Charles Khabouth’s Stilife, and later had a massively successful production career, recording as Top Kat, part of Kon Kan and, most notably, Thunderpuss, the duo who crafted smash dance club remixes for pop stars including Whitney Houston, Madonna, and Britney Spears.

The Copa had, by then, also become a house haven on Wednesday nights, thanks to influential promoter Wanda Marcotte and DJ Jason ‘Deko’ Steele. The two had been a core part of The Diamond’s success—Steele was its star resident DJ for five years before defecting to The Copa—but jumped ship after a falling out (Marcotte) and frustration over pay (Steele).

“Wanda was one of my favourite people ever and the reason I went to The Copa,” says Steele. “She was this fucking obnoxious lesbian dressed in black from head to toe, she smoked profusely, wore French braids, and had the most gorgeous lover, Irena Joannides. It wouldn’t be fair at all to do a story about that time and not cover Wanda. She was everything. Wanda was largely responsible for a third or more of the scene, in terms of the progression of house, new wave and the Queen Street art fag kind of crowd in the 1970s. She was an absolute cornerstone who, sadly, died of ovarian cancer about a decade ago.”

Together, they transformed The Copa’s Wednesdays. The crowds went from a few to fifteen hundred as house was added to Deko’s already eclectic mix.

“Really, nobody but Barry Harris and I were playing house music in big, licensed clubs back then,” says Steele. “But I didn’t just play house. I’d also play “Go See the Doctor” by Kool Moe Dee, old Aretha Franklin, some great old disco tracks—basically the roots of house.”

For a period, Steele entertained The Copa’s crowds several nights a week.

“My signature was that I didn’t have one particular sound,” he recalls. “I made sure that everything was played in a night, from the pop stuff you had to play to some edgier stuff. I’d literally play Bob Marley, go into U2, and then into something completely different.”

Unhappy with The Copa’s vibe and weekend crowd, Steele returned to The Diamond within seven months. There he was greeted by bigger pay and great fanfare.

Photo by Julie Levene, courtesy of Barry Harris.

Who else played / worked there: The diverse DJ Dante held down weekends for much of 1987. That same year, Dave Ahmad, host of Dave’s Dance Music and a resident DJ at Club Z, took over Sundays for a period. Unlike Steele, he was a fan of the club.

“The Copa was the big cheese back in the day,” says Ahmad. “It was definitely the ‘beautiful people’ spot, with a hip, fashionable crowd who knew their music. Everyone would come through on a Sunday—lots of DJs, flight crews, young professionals, people from The Zone.

“The Copa was absolutely influential,” Ahmad emphasizes. “They showed that big dance clubs with multi-format nights could work. You could go The Copa on any given night and hear something that you had not heard before. It was a commercial bar, but the music mix was smart.”

CKLN host Dave Ahmad. Photo: Keith Beaty/Toronto Star.

Sundays returned to an alternative music format circa 1990, when DJ Iain McPherson, then still calling himself DJ EN, was brought on board by promotions manager Max Blandford, formerly of Nuts & Bolts.

“Sundays became ‘Piccadilly Circus: A Human Zoo,’ a delightfully irreverent night that did quite well for a while,” McPherson says. “There were ‘go-go humans’ in cages, hard-core clothes, and I played emerging underground electronic sounds, like New Beat and early Acid House. It was a far cry from the mainstream dance music that The Copa was known for at the time. We even had in live acts, including Karen Finley and Skinny Puppy.”

The Copa is largely remembered for hosting an impressive array of live shows, with 1980s appearances by the likes of Fela Kuti, Tina Turner, Herbie Hancock, Ray Charles, Berlin, Chaka Khan, Beastie Boys, A Flock of Seagulls, X, Erasure and Ministry.

Reggae greats including Burning Spear, Dennis Brown and Freddie McGregor performed, courtesy of late, great promoter Lance Ingleton and his LIP Entertainment. Jermaine Stewart performed in December of 1986, and received a gift from Santa. The Cult played in 1987; vocalist Ian Astbury notoriously smashed an overhead neon light with his mic stand. A bootleg recording of The Cult’s set from this night can still be found online.

“The biggest thing I remember about The Copa is that there was a constant diversity of crowds,” summarizes Boris Khaimovich, a Copa doorman who also worked as head of security and assistant manager between 1987-1989.

“We went from doing reggae nights to fetish nights. We did everything from black-tie events to hosting a Skinny Puppy concert two days later. The Copa was a club that was able to morph into whatever was needed, and even though it was corporate, the managers were given a fair amount of leeway to make decisions.”

The Copa’s large staff was filled with talented people who made their mark at that club and beyond. Many interviewees give special mention to The Copa’s main lighting woman, Andrée Emond, who worked in early dance music record shops and provided a visual aesthetic for numerous dance clubs. National Velvet vocalist Maria Del Mar was a Copa cigarette girl (yep, people could smoke and buy cigarettes at clubs back then). Promotions manager Max Blandford now promotes and markets large events and venues in Miami.

“I tried to give somebody a brief history of the Toronto nightclub scene the other day and it all kind of led back to The Copa,” says Khaimovich, who himself went on to manage Toronto clubs including Go-Go and Limelight. He now owns Maple Crescent Farm in Northumberland County.

Copa lighting technicialn Andree Emond. Photo courtesy of Barry Harris.

What happened to it: While The Copa had its heyday in the ’80s, it continued to operate until the early ’90s. Online research indicates that the club closed in 1992, while some of those I spoke with thought 1991 to be more accurate. What is clear is that The Copa was inundated with noise complaints throughout its existence and, in fact, was made an example of by Toronto city councillors when they voted to create the Entertainment District through a series of new zoning laws (read more about this here).

21 Scollard became The Barracuda in 1992. The sports bar and dance club famous for its cheap beer, indoor beach volleyball court and car on the roof closed in 1996. The property was heavily renovated in the early 2000s and is now a seven-storey condo, attached to the building at 18 Yorkville.

Thank you to contributors Arnie Kliger, Barry Harris, Boris Khaimovich, David Ahmad, Iain McPherson, Jason Steele, and to Carlos Mondesir, David Heymes, Don Berns, Julie Levene (R.I.P.), Mitch Winthrop, Shawn Squires.

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