Article originally published May 23, 2013 by The Grid online (thegridto.com).

A special two-part edition of Denise Benson’s nightlife-history series begins with a trip back to the Yorkville venue that brought fine dining and club culture together—before going down in a hail of bullets.

BY: DENISE BENSON

Club: Boa Café, 25 Bellair

Years in operation: 1989-1998

History: This is a tale of two interconnected yet vastly different Toronto venues, each influential in its own way. For this article, I will be focussing on the first, Boa Café; the story of its second incarnation, Boa Redux, will be told in the next edition of Then & Now.

At the story’s centre lies Rony Hitti.

“I grew up in a family of restaurateurs and hoteliers, and was supposed to be the banker in the family,” says Hitti, who would instead become owner-operator of both Boas.

Hitti dutifully studied business finance and politics at York University, but also DJed steadily during the 1980s. He played a variety of Midtown-area clubs, and started his own DJ company, dubbed Earthquake in reference to the powerful Sensurround sound system created for the 1974 film of the same name.

“It used to shake movie theatres, and I bought one. I did pretty much all of the dances at York with that system.”

Banking didn’t work out for Hitti at the time, nor did dishwashing at his father’s restaurant. Instead, he studied culinary arts in Switzerland for a year. Upon returning, Hitti brainstormed a business plan with Charles Khabouth; the two Lebanese-Canadians had become friends as Hitti spent much time at Khabouth’s trendsetting Stilife nightclub.

“Charles and I were really close. We hung out, and traveled together. On a trip to Montreal, we went to a place called Lola’s Paradise. Lola’s was fine dining with that really cool Montreal vibe. We thought Toronto could use something like it. “Back then, last call was 1 a.m. and, inevitably at that time, everybody was looking for something to do. The only places to go were in Chinatown, for bad Chinese food, or Bemelmans on Bloor. We realized that the city needed a funky late-night dining spot that catered to a Stilife-like crowd.”

Initially 50/50 partners, the men envisioned a chic, but relaxed social spot that would serve quality food and drinks from noon until late night, five days a week. They looked to Yorkville for the location, and found 25 Bellair, formerly a daytime coffee shop. Five steps down from the sidewalk, but with a sizable window looking out at street level, the location was one long, narrow room that Hitti and Khabouth would greatly re-design.

“Yorkville was very much ’80s yuppie central,” Hitti recounts. “We wanted to bring Queen Street cool to Yorkville glam.”

Boa Café opened in October of 1989. There was nothing understated about it.

From the October, 28, 1989 edition of the Toronto Star.

Why it was important: Although Boa Café only seated 40, it had “the instant distinction of being the trendiest place in Toronto,” wrote the Toronto Star’s Christopher Hume in an appreciative review dated October 28, 1989.

Boa became one of this city’s most coveted social spots thanks to a confluence of key elements and people. It certainly was an eye-popping location, whether one chose to hang out by day—magazines, chess, and backgammon were all on offer—or night.

“There was nothing like Boa in the city at that time,” says early staffer Marcos Durian, then also a production assistant in both film and still photography. “It was a small space with incredible design that drew the masses from early afternoon to the break of dawn. Boa may have been in Yorkville, but it was so un-Yorkville.”

The aesthetic of Boa’s 1,200 square feet was largely imagined by Rony’s cousins Gregory and Alexander Gatserelia, together known as Gatserelia Design. Artist Kenny Baird, who had created installations and core elements for many clubs in the U.S. and Canada (including Khabouth’s Stilife), contributed Boa’s signature mosaic tiling, which covered much of the space.

“This was the ’80s, when it was the more detail the better,” chuckles Hitti. “Every single inch of it was designed, including the washrooms. The look of it was very whimsical; Gregory’s description was ‘It’s Antoni Gaudi meets Cocteau.’”

A bar ran the length of Boa’s room, with benches by the entrance and rows of tables filling the floor space.

Boa Café layout.

“Boa packed a heavy visual punch,” says Durian. “It was dark and intimate, with warm lighting fixtures, specially treated sinuous metal, and a copper-bar top. An intricate, colourful, serpentine mosaic stretched across the floor and south wall from the front door to the restrooms in the back. A curved sheet-metal sculpture hung from the ceiling. The walls were a sponged dark brown with one gold-leaf wall that curved, like the contours of a snake behind the bar. Hence ‘Boa,’ as in the snake.”

But it wasn’t just Boa’s aesthetic details that attracted patrons; it was also the energy, talents, and youth of the Café’s early staff. Most were already friends, or became connected as patrons of Boa. Durian hung out before being hired as a waiter and bartender because his pal Thomas Koonings worked there in the same role. Both became super tight with Mark Bacci, a teenager who grew to become a star chef at Boa Café after Hitti showed him the ropes.

“Mark could not break an egg at the outset, but had an incredible palate,” says Hitti.

“I learned to cook from Rony in the early days,” agrees Bacci. “I was a natural at it, but he showed me a lot.”

Also central was Bassam “Sam” Nicolas, who had worked for Hitti’s parents for a decade prior to becoming Rony’s “right-hand man” and general manager at Boa. Hitti gives credit as well to “all-star waitresses” Rebecca Shafrir and Sacha Grierson, both of whom became part of the Boa team while still in university.

“Mostly, we didn’t feel like we were working,” says Shafrir by email, echoing a common sentiment. “It was rather like we were having fun in our own very edgy salon.”

All of these people personified Boa Café during its first year, a year that Hitti actually describes as “very difficult, business-wise” for himself and partner Khabouth.

“We lost our shirts, and Charles was starting to experience problems at Stilife because of Oceans [the club’s adjoined restaurant],” states Hitti. “The relationship went sour between the two of us, and we decided to go our separate ways.

“That’s when Boa became my baby. I made the food more dining, and less café-ish. I also decided to bring in some of the sound equipment from my house for the music, place a DJ behind the bar, and turn it into more of a party venue. It worked.”

No matter the hour, if Boa was open, so was its kitchen. Many describe the Café’s food in loving detail. (“There were chicken sandwiches with aioli to die for, the best tomato spaghetti by Mark Bacci, and a yellow plum tomato salad that no other fine dining restaurant could better,” writes Shafrir.)

“It was a small, eclectic menu with French, Italian, and Middle Eastern influences,” says Durian. “Mark Bacci was a one-man show, with two hot plates and a convection oven. I don’t know how we serviced all those people with the small work space and tools at our disposal.”

So too grew Boa’s focus on music. It had been integral from day one, as Hitti and DJs from Stilife provided funky mixtapes of soul, rare groove, deep disco, and early house, but the Café became more synonymous with its sounds after Hitti placed his turntables behind Boa’s bar.

“Boa was the first bar/restaurant in Toronto to incorporate a DJ at all times,” he claims.

At first, all of Boa’s staff took turns behind the decks, with Stilife DJs including Chris Klaodatos stepping in to play occasional late-night parties for which the tables and chairs would be pushed aside. Boa also hosted art exhibits, film-festival parties, fashion shows, and other events. The late night crowds began to swell.

“Boa was like the cool people’s secret,” recalls Shafrir, who left after her first summer to continue studies. (She is now a Trade Commissioner for the Government of Canada, working in Tel Aviv.)

“It was small, and from the street no one could guess it was the place to be,” she adds. “Yorkville was flashy and fake; Boa was the real deal. It had a crowd of regulars who kept it alive. It was a rather underground, artsy vibe.”

“Boa blew up at night, into this after-hours scene,” describes Bacci. “Everyone from the industry found themself at Boa. It was like this underground hub of what was cool in the city. It wasn’t a boozecan; people actually came to hang out, eat, and drink. Every top chef went, along with restaurant owners and workers. We would throw parties once a month that became an insane night, spilling out onto the streets of Bellair. Cops never bothered us—because they were customers, and because the food was so good that it just wasn’t that kind of place.

“Because of Boa, and the fact that everyone came there, a 17-year-old [like myself at the time] got reservations at top restaurants in the city on a last-minute call, or just by walking in.”

Kenny Baird’s signature mosaic tiling, as featured in the Oct. 1991 edition of Interior Design magazine.

Occasional parties gave rise to DJs on Boa’s decks Thursdays through Saturdays, when the Café would be open as late as 5 or 6 a.m. Boa became the late-night hangout for a huge range of people.

“It all happened very organically,” says Hitti. “We didn’t decide to become a boozecan; we were open late, serving food, and once in a while we’d have friends come in. They would get their ‘cold tea,’ and slowly but surely, the circle of friends became bigger and bigger. We basically became the hangout for everyone from politicians to crown attorneys, senior cops, very wealthy people, and at the same time even some of the biggest drug dealers in the city. The cross-section was amazing.”

“Boa was a kind of enigma where it wasn’t a club, a full-blown restaurant or a bar, yet it managed to be all these things and more in one night,” describes Durian. “Boa had a myriad of identities, which changed by the hour and by the clientele. You couldn’t cast half the people that came in.

“It was a melting pot, a mash up from every aspect and genre of nightlife in the city, especially on the weekends. You had the Stilife crowd, the Go-Go mob, everyone that worked at the clubs, bars, and restaurants. You had city brass, weekend warriors, pro athletes, hip-hop artists, the gays, the fashionistas, actors, producers, those looking for fame, and those just looking for a good time. You had nobodies, freaks and geeks, the rich and the not rich of all races. There was no end to the diversity that walked through that door.”

Durian, who left Boa in 1992 to study film in London and then New York (he’s now a Los Angeles-based director and cinematographer), mentions visits from the likes of Ben Kingsley, Lennox Lewis, Kid ‘n Play, and members of both the Toronto Maple Leafs and Blue Jays.

“When the Blue Jays won the World Series [in 1992, 1993], we were the place they came to celebrate,” confirms Hitti. “Boa was one of, if not the only place, you could find Galen Weston sitting adjacent to [later murdered] mob enforcer Eddie ‘Hurricane’ Melo, sitting next to a bevy a models, next to Queen Street types, next to other socialites and low lives all in perfect harmony. We operated on a face-and-attitude door policy: We either knew you, or you were cool enough to get in. It wasn’t about money. It wasn’t about being famous.” (Interior photos of Boa Cafe are rare; as Hitti admits, ”We didn’t allow cameras in there, for obvious reasons.”)

A young Susur Lee is reported to have been a Boa regular, as were owners of restaurants including Rodneyʼs Oyster House, Splendido, and Centro. A new generation of club and restaurant promoters and owners (or owners-to-be) also hung out, including the Assoon brothers (Twilight Zone), Edney Hendrickson (Octopus Lounge), and Leslie Ng and Byron Dill (Kubo DX and more).

Dill, in fact, was such a regular at Boa, he later joined the staff as a bartender and event promoter.

“Byron brought that very Queen Streetish crowd vibe,” Hitti admits. “He and his friends helped make Boa Café what it was in a lot of ways.”

Bacci, in turn, credits Hitti with connecting scenes and communities.

“Yorkville was dud central at the time, [full of] dated places,” says Bacci. “It was like what Rony did in its own strange way harkened back to the Yorkville of the 1960s, like when Joso’s was just a place to drink. Boa somehow became the centre of the universe for the downtown scene. You felt like you were a part of something [that was] almost before its time for the city.”

Like friends Durian and Thomas Koonings, Bacci left Boa in the early ’90s. He moved on to cook at restaurants including Left Bank and 80 Scollard, before re-locating to New York for film school. He’s made his way as a U.S.-based actor, writer, and director ever since, maintaining ties to both Boa and Toronto. And though he and his family split time between L.A. and Hawaii, Bacci co-owns a number of Toronto restaurants, including the Lil Baci locations. (Durian has served as Director of Photography on all of Bacci’s films.)

Food remained very much a focus at Boa long after Bacci’s departure, but its DJs and late-night dancing continued to grow in popularity. After DJ Chris Klaodatos left as resident, Energy 108’s DJ Fran stepped in as Boa’s main weekend spinner from 1993 to 1996, with DJ Radamés Nieves blending Latin and Afro beats on Thursdays and occasional Fridays.

For a six-month-period of Saturdays in 1996, Fran was also joined by Hedley Jones a.k.a. Deadly Hedley, a CFNY and Klub Max alumni who, by then, also worked for Energy 108. Fran and Hedley’s popular live-to-air from Boa Café ended abruptly when Fran was found dead one Sunday morning, after he’d left the party. (Jones is now based in Los Angeles where he works as a photographer.)

“In a way, a bit of the spirit of Boa went out with Fran,” says Hitti. “It was a very close-knit group.”

The Boa bar, as featured in the Oct. 1991 edition of Interior Design magazine. Image courtesy of INK Entertainment.

What happened to it: By 1996, Boa Café was so busy that a second room was added, doubling the venue’s square footage and creating a designated dancefloor. Many hundreds of people would come through on weekends, packed in “like sardines,” according to Hitti.

“If one person danced, everybody danced. People would dance on tables and chairs, they’d dance on the bar, there were people having sex. It was absolute debauchery.”

That said, Boa didn’t receive a lot of police attention.

“I would get raided twice a year, and the charges would disappear,” shares Hitti. “Everybody thought that I was paying off half the city. I never paid anyone a single dime, but I kept good relations with everybody, and I guess people thought, ‘Why not? The place doesn’t have any problems.’ There was no overt drug dealing, everybody was having fun, and it was a discreet venue in Yorkville. It kind of took on a life of its own.”

But Hitti acknowledges, “It got to the point where the place was so busy that eventually this was its downfall.

“Literally, people would get off a plane at 1 a.m., ask where they could get a drink, and taxi drivers would bring them down. People would show up at the door, and many would be told they could not come in. We had just one doorman, Larry Trump; he could handle all those crowds by himself.

“One night in 1996, Larry told some guys they could not come in. I was called over, and said the same. One of them looked at me and said, ‘I’ll come back and spray the place.’ He went to his car in the parking lot, pulled out a machine gun, and shot seven bullets through the window. We had two of those incidents, and that’s largely what motivated me not to renew the lease in the end. Both times when it happened, the place was packed and bullets literally flew over everybody’s heads. Nobody got hurt. Twice lucky, we weren’t going to risk a third time.”

By 1998, when Hitti’s lease at 25 Bellair came up for renewal, he also owned businesses including Brasserie Zola (“a very bourgeois French restaurant”), Winston’s (“probably the highest-rated fine-dining restaurant in the city [at the time]”), and Turkish Bath, the member’s-only nightclub beneath it.

“My name was associated with being a chef, and owner of fine dining establishments,” Hitti concludes. “The last thing I wanted was my name in the newspaper associated with a shooting.” The lower level of 25 Bellair is now home to Vaticano Restaurant.

The story of Boa continues in the next edition of Then & Now, when I revisit the club’s resurrection in the early 2000s as after-hours dance club Boa Redux on Spadina.

Thank-you to Boa Café participants Mark Bacci, Marcos Durian, Rebecca Shafrir, and Rony Hitti, as well as to Hedley Jones and Thomas Koonings.

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

Article originally published January 19, 2012 by The Grid online (TheGridTO.com).

Denise Benson revisits the three-storey super-club that was at the epicentre of Toronto’s early ‘90s Entertainment District explosion.

BY: DENISE BENSON

Club: Klub Max, 52 Peter (now 56 Blue Jays Way)

Years in operation: 1990-1994

History: This is a tale of a changing Toronto. It tells the story of an historic area in transition, mere years before it came to serve as the meeting point for the touristy and the trendy. Also at its centre is a man who became one of this city’s most successful nightlife entrepreneurs, as well as a number of our most recognized DJs.

52 Peter Street was once the George Crookshank House. Built in the 1830s, it’s one of the street’s oldest buildings and was designated an historic site under the Ontario Heritage Act. But its beautiful brick frontage would be obscured by modern smoked glass and signage when Nick Di Donato and his Liberty Entertainment Group renovated it extensively at the end of the 1980s to open, at first, a single-level P.M. Toronto sports bar and restaurant.

In 1990, Di Donato and colleague Angelo Belluz developed the property into the area’s first full-on dance club—a three-floor funhouse named Klub Max. It took vision—and nerve—to open a large club there at the time.

“This was an industrial area where there were large vacant spaces—very industrial commercial spaces and no residential,” recalls Di Donato. “It was a perfect club area. The proximity to SkyDome also provided an influx of people on game and concert nights, as well as post-event parties.

“I was inspired by the club scene in New York City’s Meatpacking District, like Mars Club, and wanted to bring that energy to Toronto,” he explains. “Klub Max was one of only three clubs in the city with a capacity of over 1,100.”

Klub Max ad in EYE Weekly

Why it was important: Sandwiched between a Don Cherry’s Grapevine on its north end and a restaurant-cum-karaoke bar to its south (Wayne Gretzky’s restaurant didn’t open across the street until 1993), Klub Max was not certifiably cool or fashionable, but it was genuinely interesting. It was a club where suburbanites and downtowners of varying ages met on the dancefloor, largely thanks to the decidedly different musical formats found within.

“Klub Max was an industry leader,” says Di Donato. “It was one of the city’s first multi-level clubs; in essence, it was three clubs in one, targeting an audience of diverse music preferences, but with a desire to be in a large club atmosphere. People loved to move from one room to another, experiencing a different vibe and sound in each.”

With Di Donato and Belluz initially at its helm, Klub Max featured rock and alternative on its third tier; dance music pounded out of the main floor’s massive soundsystem; and the basement ranged from grunge to rave to hip-hop, depending on night.

Chris Pack (CFNY producer), Martin Streek (CFNY DJ), “Brother Bill” (CFNY DJ) and Angelo Belluz (Klub Max co-owner). Photo by Steven Lungley (http://stevenlungley.com/)

“This club was my first foray into the large nightclub business, and it was where I gained my experience to develop one of Toronto’s longest-running nightclubs, The Phoenix Concert Theatre,” emphasizes Di Donato, now President and CEO of Liberty Entertainment Group.

Di Donato left Klub Max to open The Phoenix as a live concert space and dance club in November of 1992. Angelo Gerardi and Tony Antonucci bought him out to join Belluz in developing Max.

It’s interesting to note that the majority of DJs I spoke with—including some who began spinning at Max as far back as 1990-1991—did not meet Di Donato until years later, when he and brother Pat hired them to play at subsequent Liberty Group ventures. No matter. What is clear is that many now big-name Toronto DJs got their start—or firmed up their followings—at Klub Max. In its early years, especially, the venue had an underground vibe.

One of the most-discussed Max events to this day is Deep Forest, an all-ages Sunday party that ran in the summers of 1990 through 1993. That’s where a teenage DJ Tricky Moreira got his professional start, initially playing alongside DJ Tin-Tin, and then later with Neil & Cain, on the main floor while the Red Flame crew rinsed reggae upstairs and DJX bumped hip-hop in the basement. Go-go dancers did their thing against the black-and-silver décor while house and techno lovers slid across a stainless steel dancefloor in their bellbottomed pants. The night was enormously popular from its start.

“I was blown away the first night” recalls Moreira. “Tin-Tin and I decided to get to the club for about 7 p.m. to make sure everything was set up properly. When we arrived, there were literally hundreds of people, in the evening summer sun, waiting in line for the club’s doors to open. When the doors opened at 9 p.m., there was a rush to enter. After getting past the front door, you’d have to climb up a row of steps leading into the main room, with the DJ booth located above the dance floor for all to see. The energy was beyond impressive.

“The house we played was very new, very experimental,” continues Moreira, who would go on to find fame as a DJ, producer and radio host. “It’s the stuff that’s now coined ‘classic house,’ but for us it was the newest of the new—stuff like Raze’s ‘Break 4 Love,’ Ten City’s ‘That’s The Way Love Is,’ to the harder, more techno-driven sounds like Mike Dunn’s ‘Magic Feet.’ Max was an avenue for deeper underground electronic music, situated around the early warehouse, pre-rave days. Max left a new impression. Being as young as we were, it was our Studio 54.”

Deadly Hedley Jones. Photo courtesy of him.

Klub Max was also where CFNY personality and DJ “Deadly” Hedley Jones (pictured above) hosted his All Night Dance Party. Broadcast live-to-air on Saturdays, midnight-to-6 a.m. from 1990-1994, the program was the only one on commercial radio to explore the intersection of house, hip-hop, reggae and rave.

“I think the crowd at Klub Max was a mix of all of those genres,” recalls Jones. “They really came to dance and listen to music, which was always fresh. They knew if they came out they were going to hear it there first. Carnival Records and Play De Record—the hot shops at the time—would sell out many of the tracks I played the next day.

“I was playing a lot of white labels and dubplates,” adds the influential and industrious broadcaster, then known as the “late-night guy” on CFNY (now 102.1 the Edge). “Max was unique in that, even though the club closed its doors at 3 a.m., people had the choice to stay until the show ended. I had out-of-town guests and DJs visiting all the time. It was a great hang out.”

“It was the most exclusive after-party I can remember,” adds DJ Mark Oliver who played “stomping, up-front house music” Fridays and Saturdays at Max from 1991-1993, including as an integral part of Hedley’s live-to-air.

“We would have a howl, playing test presses of all the latest gems without having to keep an eye on the dancefloor,” says Oliver, who, at the time, was already a rave headliner also known for his nights at Go-Go and beloved Acid Jazz Wednesdays at The Cameron House. “I could never really get my head around the fact that, at 4 a.m., we were playing to a handful of Hedley’s mates in the club, but tens of thousands of punters were listening on the radio.”

“The crowd was always up for it, jumping and screaming all night,” he recalls. “The atmosphere was very much like a rave. I played many of the same tracks I would have played at raves, but the Max faithful were not dressed like ravers. At that time, most regular-hours, licensed clubs around town were meat markets playing Top 40. I would say that Max unknowingly provided an alternative.  Between the insanely loud and crisp sound system and the rammed dancefloor, it would have been a challenge to chat someone up.”

Klub Max dancer. Photo by Steven Lungley (stevenlungley.com)

Who else played there: While dozens of DJs passed through Klub Max’s three different booths over the years, a few other names are mentioned repeatedly by those interviewed here. Jason “Deko” Steele was an early main-room resident, introducing dancers to house music while also releasing music on influential local labels including Hi-Bias. Other dance music DJs included Terry Kelly, Matt C, James St. Bass and Peter, Tyrone and Shams, while people like DJ Gary, Craig Beesack, Michael X and Cam brought the alternative.

“DJ Gio [Cristiano] was our Rock God,” says Nick Di Donato of the weekend resident DJ who had worked for him previously at P.M. Toronto.

“There were a lot of smashed glasses everywhere,” says Cristiano (who went on to play at many Liberty Group venues) of the vibe on Saturdays at Klub Max.

Patricia Hell and Angela Koszuta enjoying a night out at Max, 1994. Photo by Steven Lungley.

Most memorable moments: “I’ll never forget the night the Jays first won the World Series [in 1992],” shares Oliver. “The club installed a huge screen for everyone to watch the game, without audio, while dancing. Tapping into the already electric energy of the crowd, I created a soundtrack on the fly, doing things like syncopating beats with Joe Carter’s warm-up swings of the bat. You could throw a stone from Max and hit SkyDome, so when the World Series was captured, you can imagine the images that followed. Max suddenly became a bunker, the safest place to be on Peter Street. The club couldn’t even open its doors to let anyone in; it would have been like opening your sunroof during a hail storm.”

The Blue Jays’ victory also prompted Toronto City Council to rename Peter Street south of King as Blue Jays Way in 1992. (How the building Klub Max was in shifted from 52 Peter to 56 Blue Jays Way is a mystery I haven’t been able to crack.)

Mark Oliver, circa early 1990s. Photo courtesy of James Applegath.

Oliver has a number of great stories from his time at Max, which ended when he moved back to Scotland for a stretch in 1993.

“I remember an odd night when I bumped into Moby hanging by himself in the basement of the club,” says Oliver. “He was huge in the underground rave scene at the time with ‘Go,’ but hadn’t put out an album or hit the mainstream yet, so he was just another guy in the crowd. When I asked him what brought him to Klub Max, he said he was in town, hanging out with his pen-pal from when he was a young boy.”

What happened to it: “Klub Max closed down one year after I sold it,” recalls Di Donato, who then opened not just The Phoenix, but also Joker, Left Bank, The Rosewater, Courthouse, Tattoo Rock Parlour (with Charles Khabouth), the Liberty Grand Entertainment Complex and many other businesses.

His timeline is a little off however, as Klub Max did not officially close in 1993 according to most. It closed for a period and was heavily renovated in early 1994, with Belluz, Gerardi and Antonucci as owners. Former Klub Max customer and bartender Mary Ireton recalls that the venue was “given a pyramid look” and re-born as a club called 3000 BC. It closed later that year.

56 Blue Jays Way eventually became a Second City and then the Diesel Playhouse. The area itself, of course, exploded with nightclubs in the mid-1990s. After years of speculation, we now know that the address will become the 41-storey Bisha Hotel and Residences. A project of Charles Khabouth’s INK Entertainment and Lifetime Developments, the boutique-spot-to-be will feature the interior design of one Lenny Kravitz.

Rendering of Bisha Hotel and Residences.

Mark Oliver, now one of Toronto best-known DJs, credits Max as his “first foray into DJing at a more mainstream venue” and thus a “programming blueprint for venues such as The Guvernment,” where he has reigned as resident DJ of Spin Saturdays since 1996.

Tricky Moreira continues to tour, make music and DJ on home turf, including at his Big DJ, Small Club series.

Hedley Jones moved to Los Angeles in 2002 and DJs occasionally, but is focused on his career as a photographer.

Gio Cristiano is now known for spinning electronic dance music, including at The Mod Club’s UK Underground Saturdays.

Thank you to all interviewed above, as well as to Alex Dordevic, Rob Duffy, Mary Ireton, James St. Bass, James Applegath, Patrick Whyte, Adrienne Cauchi and Stacey Hawkins of Liberty Entertainment Group, and photographer Steven Lungley.

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

Article originally published October 18, 2011 by The Grid online. It was third in the series. Given that Then & Now articles later grew in length and number of participants, the story of 23 Hop will be explored in more detail for the T&N book.

In the latest instalment of her nightclub-history series, Denise Benson revisits a dingy, graffiti-covered venue that had no signage and minimal lighting, but proved to be ground zero for Toronto’s early ‘90s rave scene.

BY: DENISE BENSON

Club: 23 Hop, 318 Richmond St. W.

Years in operation: 1990-1995

Why it was important: Like the Twilight Zone, 23 Hop housed a new musical vision in a part of town then filled with more empty warehouses than clubs. Key to the genesis of Toronto’s rave scene, the venue originally operated as an all-ages club owned by Wesley Thuro, who would go on to open The Bovine Sex Club (with Chris Sheppard and Darryl Fine) in 1991 and now defunct Annex barbecue joint Cluck, Grunt & Low in 2007.

In 1990, Thuro employed his sound and lighting business to great advantage at 318 Richmond (reportedly with backing from Sheppard). 23 Hop was a dark, raw warehouse space with no signage, but the sound, lighting and lasers were topnotch. It was thrilling to walk through the venue’s doors as it felt slightly dangerous and absolutely explosive. Chris Sheppard, later also known by the rave tag DJ Dogwhistle, was an original resident DJ, alongside Mark Oliver, D-Nice and Deadly Hedley Jones.

23 Hop photo by Chris “Space” Gray

“I used to go to high schools in the fall of 1990 and sneak up posters promoting 23 Hop,” recalls beloved Toronto clubber/dancer gOgO K’necht, then a promoter/publicist known as gOgO begOnia. “We didn’t have the word ‘techno’ yet so we called it ‘industrial dance.’

“There were black light–painted go-go dancers and lots of graffiti down a very long dark corridor and outside on the steps, but [the club played] the music that you couldn’t get anywhere else in the city,” recalls gOgO, who would go on to be an early columnist for TRIBE Magazine. “I’d just come back from three years of traveling in Africa, and Mark Oliver played tribal techno, which was the perfect music for me to dance to. The room was so dark and huge but I just closed my eyes. I had a whistle sewn into my dreadlocks. That was also a big part of the kids at the Hop: using whistles. I think they called themselves the whistle posse.”

gOgO K’necht photo courtesy of her

One year in, the all-ages approach proved conducive to fights breaking out, and the venue essentially became a rental hall and after-hours boozecan. One of the first to rent it out was Scottish ex-pat John Angus who, with Mark Oliver and Anthony Donnelly, started Exodus Productions. Arguably Toronto’s first rave company, Exodus did events at 23 each Saturday from Aug. 31 to Dec. 31, 1991, with house DJs including Dino & Terry and Peter, Tyrone and Shams on one floor while The Booming System Collective (Mark Oliver, Sean L, Dr. No and fellow UK ex-pat Malik X—the pioneering host of CKLN’s deeply influential Radio London program—brought hardcore, techno and rave to the main floor.

23 Hop photo by Chris “Space” Gray

“My first night [at 23 Hop] was pretty mind blowing; I people-watched for hours,” recalls James Applegath, driving force behind ‘zine and website The Communic8r, chronicling Toronto’s “golden age of raving” through lovingly detailed archives, including those at 23hop.com that helped make this profile possible.

“Graffiti wasn’t prohibited and the washrooms were unisex. Society and club norms were checked at the door. There were a lot of characters that frequented the spot.”

At 17, Applegath was initially nervous to enter 23 Hop’s doors. Once he did, he and friends spent every Saturday night there for the next four months.

“Those nights ended up shaping my life for the next 15 years,” he shares. “I promoted raves, published a mag about them, was a partner in Buzz [now The Comfort Zone], managed Industry for three years and then co-owned NASA on Queen Street.”

Morning outside of 23 Hop. Photo by Chris “Space” Gray.

Who else played there: I couldn’t even begin to list all of the Toronto house, techno, rave and jungle DJs who poured out newer-than-new sounds at 23 Hop over this five-year period. It was a highly localized scene, with Oliver and the DJ/MC duo of Malik X and Dr. No remembered as favourites. DJs Ruffneck and Jungle PhD also brought early breakbeat to T.O.—playing at early ’90s Sykosis events—while Kenny Glasgow and Matt C played there well before they went on to open Industry. By 1993, following the Exodus and Sykosis parties, promotions crew Pleasure Force held down Friday nights at 23 Hop. Titled The Rise, these nights featured locals including John E, Danny Henry, David Crooke and MC Captain B Mental alongside occasional international rave DJs flown in to perform at the huge Pleasure Force raves that took place elsewhere.

318 Richmond St. West as parking lot, pre-construction

What happened to it: 23 Hop closed in the summer of 1995, by which point Toronto’s rave scene was massive and heavily commercialized. Soon after 23 Hop closed, the building was heavily renovated to become popular mainstream club The Joker. It was later demolished and has since been turned into a parking lot. Today, it’s under development to become a 39-storey condo dubbed Picasso.

Memories: Audio

MALIK X, Live at 23 Hop in late 1991: Side A & Side B (this cassette tape is the “earliest complete recording of a rave in Toronto,” according to James Applegath.

Exodus Techno Anthems of 1991

Memories: Video

There is no known video footage taken inside 23 Hop, but writer/director Colm Hogan includes Toronto’s early techno/rave days in his documentary Sketched Out, The Movie chronicling different local underground music cultures. Here’s a segment featuring an interview with John Angus of Exodus Productions:

The post Then & Now: 23 Hop appeared first on Then and Now: Toronto Nightlife History.