Article originally published January 28, 2013 by The Grid online (thegridto.com).

After cutting his teeth in nightlife as owner of Club Z on St. Joseph, Charles Khabouth relocated to open this dramatically designed destination spot that kick-started the development of Toronto’s Entertainment District.

BY: DENISE BENSON

Club: Stilife, 217 Richmond W.

Years in operation: 1987–1995

History: Built in the 1920s, the six-storey brick building on the southwest corner of Richmond and Duncan Streets exemplifies the major changes experienced by this Toronto neighbourhood as it morphed from Garment to Entertainment District.

The once heavily industrial area, located south of Queen and bordered by University to the east and Spadina to the west, was occupied by factories, warehouses and daytime workers for the better part of the 20th century. By the 1970s, most of the factories had closed, and many of the buildings lay empty. It was only after the opening of the SkyDome (now known as the Rogers Centre) in 1989 that municipal politicians began to amend zoning laws in order to encourage development in the region.

But in the 1980s, before these sweeping changes took place, the former Garment District was a land of opportunity.

“The neighbourhood at that time was mostly peopled with artists living in affordable studio spaces and cheap apartments,” recalls celebrated installation artist Kenny Baird, who lived in the area and also shared a studio space at the corner of Richmond and Bathurst with his sister and collaborator Rebecca Baird.

“It was pleasantly abandoned, interesting, and ours for a time.”

Boozecans and warehouse parties brought people by on weekends, but otherwise the area was largely deserted at night. The only true nightclub around was the Assoon brothers’ pioneering Twilight Zone, which operated without a liquor license from 1980 to 1989 in a raw space at 185 Richmond West. Parking was even free on surrounding streets.

This was not the most likely part of town for Charles Khabouth to begin his evolution into Toronto’s most powerful nightlife impresario. The founder of INK Entertainment had chosen to open his first venue, Club Z, on St. Joseph at Yonge in 1984 because the area’s “bohemian feel” had appealed to him. In little time, Khabouth had confidence in his ability to anticipate trends, hire the right people, and attract audiences.

“I wanted Stilife to be in a secluded area, where it would be a destination spot to those who came,” explains Khabouth of the club he would open in October of 1987.

His renovation of 217 Richmond West’s 5,000-square-foot basement into a trendsetting lounge and dance club not only created a destination spot, it helped spark the transformation of the entire neighbourhood. Stilife’s influence is felt to this day.

Stilife interior. Photo courtesy of INK Entertainment.

Why it was important: Beneath its understated exterior, Stilife was a club that delighted and amazed patrons who made their way through the main entrance on Duncan. As would become his hallmark, Khabouth went all-out to create a distinctive, dramatic space. He hired local design team Yabu Pushelberg, who brought Stilife immediate international attention with their innovative, award-winning work throughout the club.

“I have always had an affinity and passion for design, and Stilife was a great canvas to unleash that,” Khabouth tells me by e-mail. “I enlisted the expertise of now renowned agency, Yabu Pushelberg. Back then, they were very new and unknown, but I saw something fresh in their abilities. They were a massive part of the success of Stilife. Our design collaboration helped communicate an exceptional atmosphere that has people talking years later.”

Khabouth is a notoriously hands-on owner who follows the minutiae of his projects through from concept to completion. He undoubtedly had much to do with Stilife’s dark, sculptured aesthetic, which featured a heavy use of polished steel, concrete and mosaic tile. The club’s core elements referenced Art Deco, Salvador Dali and Blade Runner alike. Customers were both on display and could play voyeur.

“It was a beautifully designed club,” enthuses Baird, who had himself completed design and installation work for legendary New York nightclub Area, and would later create some of CiRCA’s most stunning pieces.

“At that time, no one [in Toronto] was taking these kind of risks with design on that scale. Stepping through Stilife’s burled metal custom entrance doors, down a small, curved flight of stairs, then through a serpentine set of chain-link curtains, one immediately knew this was a space unlike any other. This was one-of-a-kind, custom work—top to bottom, inside and out. You knew that someone had spent time, love and a lot of money to pull this off. It was a design that pulled you into the place with a sense of intimacy and mystery.

“The colour palette consisted of deep subtle hues at a time when bright neon and new wave was the outgoing aesthetic,” adds Baird, who also worked as art director of music videos for the likes of Bowie, Blue Rodeo and Marilyn Manson. “A smallish space by comparison to most clubs, it had a clever design of feeling larger than it actually was. Every surface was an introduction to a texture of luxury combined with carefully chosen industrial elements. It was, in no small words, a jewel.”

“Visually, I can’t remember a more arresting club,” agrees James Vandervoort, a former Cameron House barback and waiter at Kensington Market’s Café La Gaffe, who worked coat check and as a Stilife bus boy in the club’s first year. “The space was so unique.”

“Kenny Baird created these amazing art pieces that you could view from the street. I remember them so well, especially the spiky pair of go-go boots, and a turntable made out of industrial found parts, like saw blades. No one was making that kind of effort for a dance club.”

Kenny Baird’s puss monkey installation. Photo courtesy of Baird.

Kenny Baird’s demon jack-in-the box. Photo courtesy of Baird.

“I was not one to turn down an opportunity to pay the rent, and Charles was willing to let me do what I wanted,” says Baird of his first creations for Khabouth. “I was asked to install a series of window displays that surrounded the corner of the club at sidewalk level, along with a few display cases inside.

“The pieces were meant to be temporary, and tongue in cheek. [Things like] a demon jack-in-the box eating currency, and a pair of sequined, reptilian platform boots in a box of nails, which was a small nod to the bygone days when one dressed to kill, and practically got killed for doing it. There was a lime green monkey in a box of marshmallows that was subsequently stolen from the display; a murder of black crows pecking at sticks of dynamite, and a golden egg in a nest of thorns. Some of these displays remained sealed, sun-bleached in those windows for years after the club had closed.”

There was humour, function, and detailed craftsmanship to be enjoyed in every corner of Stilife, from the floor-to-ceiling chain mail curtains that separated seating areas from the dancefloor to the custom metal fixtures in the washrooms, and tile work in the showpiece, backlit main bar.

“Stilife’s aesthetic was very forward and edgy,” summarizes Khabouth. “It was raw, but well thought out. Stilife catered to an audience that appreciated fashion, architecture and sophisticated design with a bite—an audience that favoured exceptional music and unparalleled service and experience.”

Stilife bar. Photo courtesy of INK Entertainment.

At a time when most bars and clubs catered to a set core crowd and rarely veered from their course, Stilife programmed a wide range of sounds and themed nights. Its DJs were trendsetters from a variety of scenes and communities. Some were more established than others, but all were very good at what they did.

Two DJs especially made their mark at Stilife: Richard Vermeulen and JC Sunshine.

Vermeulen became synonymous with Stilife’s Tuesday nights. Early on, he DJed while then-girlfriend ‘The Katherine’ promoted, and Kenny Baird designed invites.

“We attracted some of the former crowd from club Voodoo, along with artist friends who fought out a home at the Cameron House,” says Baird of the neighbourhood crowd they reached out to. “We loved to dance to Motown, Stax and Volt, and classic disco. We mixed things up, including Hank Williams, a love for twang, and early rap.

“For some of us, Stilfe was the end of an era in our neighbourhood, and the beginning of what it has become now. But for a short period of time, Charles allowed us to enjoy the place in spite of our night not making any kind of profit for him. He knew who we were and had respect for us, as we did for him.”

Vermeulen, who was not available to participate in this article, remained the Tuesday resident for much of Stilife’s existence, eventually attracting large, diverse crowds. James Vandervoort, later known as DJ James St. Bass, frequently worked the lights to Vermeulen’s music, and remains a fan.

“Richard had such a cool way of mixing genres. He introduced me to Baby Ford’s “Oochy Coochy,” and my acid house craze took root. He would play Ted Nugent’s “Stranglehold,” Bomb The Bass’ “Beat Dis,” and lots of James Brown, disco, funk and good hard rock tunes. Eric B and Rakim’s “Paid In Full” was big too. Richard had this amazing taste in his programming that I admire to this day. He played what he felt like, and had a unique sound that was only at Stilife on the Tuesday.”

Friday night resident JC Sunshine was a master of mixing underground with overground.

He’d come up playing house parties and all-ages events, DJing as part of the influential Sunshine Sound Crew, and had DJed at Khabouth’s Club Z for years.

JC would travel with Khabouth to Montreal to check out clubs (“Charles got some of his inspiration for Stilife from a Montreal club called Business.”), and was brought into Stilife from its inception. He’d mix house with New Wave, R&B, funk and disco, citing Lisa Stansfield, Brand New Heavies, Depeche Mode, Yello, New Order, Fast Eddie, Frankie Knuckles, and Snap’s “The Power” as favourites of the time.

Resident DJ JC Sunshine. Photo courtesy of him.

Like many, Sunshine raves about Stilife’s quality set-up.

“The DJ booth was humungous, and the sound was an EV System, which was amazing,” he says. “Charles was always particular with the sound systems in his venues.”

“Since Twilight Zone had closed, Stilife had the best sound system in the city by far,” agrees revered DJ Mark Oliver. He began his decades-long career of working for Khabouth at 217 Richmond in 1990.

“The DJ booth at Stilife wasn’t accessible or even clearly visible from the dancefloor, but the sound was amazing and the lights were state-of-the art too,” says Oliver. “The DJ booth was extremely well maintained, as was the entire club. Considering I was used to playing mainly warehouse parties with makeshift booths, Stilife was a real joy to DJ at. While most club owners would blow their budget on design and the sound system would be an afterthought, in the 25 years I’ve known him, Charles has always provided the complete club package.”

Oliver had come to Stilife after three years of DJing at Toronto venues that ranged from Johnny K-owned venues 4th and 5th and Tazmanian Ballroom to afterhours spots. It was Oliver’s residency at legendary warehouse party Kola that led to his spinning funk, disco and house for gay men at Stilife on Mondays.

“As well as current house tracks, I played all the vogueing anthems, with “Love is the Message” by MFSB, “Is it All Over My Face” by Loose Joints and “Keep the Fire Burning” by Gwen McCrae being the biggest hits.”

“The dancefloor on Monday nights was like one big runway, with drag queens competing for the spotlight,” Oliver describes. “While Madonna was on her Blond Ambition tour, she came to Stilife with her voguers who took over the club that night. The energy was through the roof. The regulars, funnily enough, were more excited about the voguers being there than Madge herself.”

Stilife entry. Photo courtesy of INK Entertainment.

Stilife soon gained a reputation as a celebrity hangout.

“Notable guests, such as Madonna, George Michael, and Prince, fuelled its success,” asserts Khabouth. “Stilife truly was one of the first venues to attract the who’s-who, and this gave the brand a cachet that couldn’t be found anywhere else.”

Stilife, in fact, had an exclusivity factor that was central to its image. Even as he courted cool, the image-conscious Khabouth was incredibly selective about who would make it through the doors of his intimate club.

“The door policy was very exclusive,” says Oliver. “Many say Stilife was the first to have such a policy, but Johnny K’s Krush started that whole trend in Toronto. The difference between Krush—followed by Tazmanian Ballroom—and Stilife was, in simple terms, style versus money. Johnny K’s policy was based solely on style. The doormen at Krush and the Ballroom would tell guys pulling up to the door in Lamborghinis to go home, and try showing up in a cab next time to have better luck. They would then proceed to open the ropes and welcome a freak wearing pajamas. Stilife was the opposite.”

“With a capacity of 400, we were limited in how many guests we could let in,” explains Khabouth. “Our policy at the door was to maintain an audience of like-minded guests—guests who were mature, sophisticated, and liked to socialize in a certain environment.”

This ‘certain environment’ tended to be populated by attractive, well-heeled patrons who did not live in the neighbourhood. Stilife was largely a playground for the rich and glamorous.

“The clientele was mostly of a very high-income status,” says JC Sunshine. “There were many major league athletes, fashion and entertainment industry people. If you didn’t fit in any of the above categories, you would be at the mercy of the door staff. Many of them were either actors or models themselves—really tall, well-built and good-looking—and they had tough standards, based on Charles’ specifications. It was very hard to get in.”

“Stilife wasn’t for everybody,” confirms Jim Kambourakis, a Toronto club industry veteran who installed sound and lighting in dozens of top venues around the city, Stilife included.

Also known as Jimmy Lightning, for his lighting skills, Kambourakis worked as Khabouth’s right-hand-man on Richmond from 1989 to 1994. He speaks of Stilife’s most iconic doorman, Robin.

“Robin was so tall. He stood above everybody. He had this crazy long hair, and always wore these big jackets. Anyone who wanted to come in had to go through him.

“Charles used to hang out at the door, smoke a cigarette, and he would sort of wink or nod to tell Robin whether to open the door or not. It was a controlled environment, based on attitude, age, and fashion.”

Still, even with all the designer duds and celebs in attendance, Stilife’s DJs maintained their musical integrity.

“I remember one night when Wayne Gretzky came to the booth,” recalls Sunshine. “He requested a slow song for him to dance with his wife to. This was at about 1 a.m., and the club was packed, so needless to say I didn’t do it—not even for The Great One. Charles would have flipped if I had changed the formula of the night. Charles wouldn’t veer from his vision; that’s why he’s the king of clubs!”

Stilife owner Charles Khabouth with a few of the club’s patrons. Photo courtesy of INK Entertainment.

Who else played/worked there: Even a partial roster of Stilife DJs reads like a who’s-who of top T.O. spinners and producers. Barry Harris was a resident at the club in its first year, until he got too busy with his Kon Kan project. Local legends like Terry Kelly, Vania, Dino & Terry and Matt C held down residencies, as did duo Bill & Amar. DJ Chris Klaodatos was a popular Saturday night spinner who went on to play at other Khabouth-owned clubs (“I hear he’s in Greece and has become a monk,” Kambourakis says.).

Thursday nights at Stilife were both devoted to house music, and more alternative electronic sounds over the years. Even DJ Iain McPherson and promoter James Kekanovich—known for alt nights at clubs like The Copa, Empire Dancebar and, later, Limelight—were given a go.

“It was a pretty hard electronic alternative night,” says McPherson of their series of events that also included on-site tattooing, body piercing and the like. “I was impressed that they went for the idea of having us play there; it was so open-minded for the time. Alternative music nights were generally held in dark, inexpensively built clubs. Stilife had been beautifully designed, and was run with great professionalism.”

Stilife managers included Vincent Donohoe, an investor in Club Z and later the co-owner of clubs including Turbo.

Stilife’s staff certainly added to the club’s allure.

“There were many bar staff who enhanced the whole Stilife experience,” credits Sunshine. “So many of them were really gorgeous women and very studly looking men. There was a bartender named Gautier who was very charismatic, and had a special appeal to all the patrons, both male and female.”

A large percentage of Stilife’s staff—DJs, managers, and bartenders alike—would become familiar faces in downtown Toronto clubs over the decades.

Sunshine, who stopped working at Stilife in 1994, went on to DJ at clubs including Fluid, The Guvernment, Joker and The Phoenix, where he held down the long-running Planet Vibe Sundays. He continues to DJ to this day.

Richard Vermeulen would go on to loom large in DJ booths at clubs like Boom Boom Room and The Rivoli.

Vandervoort became James St. Bass when he too began DJing at the Boom. He went on to play at multiple T.O. clubs—including Go-Go and Limelight, which both opened not far from where Stilife once stood—as well as at raves, warehouse parties, and on the air at CIUT with his influential Sunday Hardrive show. He continues to DJ, including as a resident at vinyl-centric monthly party Black Crack Funk Attack.

Mark Oliver’s DJ career exploded soon after he’d started at Stilife. By 1991, he had become one of the main faces behind Toronto’s then burgeoning rave scene, playing at gritty spaces like 23 Hop, which opened at 318 Richmond in 1990. Oliver left Stilife to DJ five nights weekly at the Ballinger brothers’ club Go-Go, which had launched at 250 Richmond West and brought a whole new wave of clubbers to the district.

“By drawing clubbers to Richmond Street, Stilife broke the ice for future clubs in the area,” says Oliver, who’s now best known as the longtime Saturday resident at Khabouth’s Guvernment Nightclub. “I reckon Go-Go, and the cluster of clubs that followed in the district, would never have flourished without Stilife paving their way.”

“I’m sure many will agree that Charles took Toronto club design to a new level,” says McPherson of Khabouth and Stilife’s shared impact.

“I think he raised expectations amongst clubgoers in a way that was felt for many years afterwards—perhaps continuing until today. No longer was it acceptable to just paint a room black or do some cheesy disco-era treatment. The design of Stilife was world-class, and taunted every club that followed to step up its game. Just about everyone who went, or worked in clubs, felt the impact over time.”

217 Richmond W. in January 2013. Photo by Denise Benson.

What happened to it: By the early 1990s, a number of other nightclubs had opened along Richmond and Adelaide West, and Charles Khabouth’s attentions were divided. He’d already opened a series of upscale restaurants—including the short-lived Oceans, which had adjoined Stilife and starred chef Greg Coulliard, Boa Café, and Acrobat—but hadn’t yet gotten his recipe right. In 1992, Khabouth opened Yorkville nightclub Skorpio and later invested in the area’s famed Bellair Café. He sold Stilife in 1995.

“After eight years, I had grown out of the space and was limited with what I could do, in terms of ceiling height and capacity. It was just time to move onward and upwards.”

That he did, opening The Guvernment in 1996, and expanding it over time into a huge, ambitious entertainment complex boasting multiple rooms and concert venues. Since then, Khabouth has well outgrown his ‘king of clubs’ tag, opening restaurants and venues, and investing in property developments, all at a dizzying rate.

In 2012 alone, Khabouth launched restos Patria and Weslodge, converted his Ultra Supper Club into CUBE, redesigned many rooms at The Guvernment, bought the old Devil’s Martini and turned it into UNIUN, and purchased a controlling stake in Sound Academy. Additionally, the INK magnate partnered with Lifetime Developments to develop the boutique Bisha Hotel & Residences project, slated to open by early 2016 at 56 Blue Jays Way, where Klub Max once stood.

Now 50, and with his company reportedly valued at more than $50 million, Khabouth shows no signs of slowing down.

“We are geared up to continue our growth in 2013,” he writes. “We are pleased to be opening up a second location of our French bistro, La Societe, with the Lowes Hotel Group In Montreal. We have also partnered with the Sound Academy, and will be programming some big talent events. As well, have partnered with the Buonanotte Group of Montreal to bring the Italian supper club to our former space, Ame, on Mercer Street. (This building, at 19 Mercer, was once part of OZ, The Nightclub.)

“Looking to expand south of the border, INK is currently working on signing a deal in Miami too. The sky is the limit, and we are excited to be a part of Toronto’s growing social culture.”

Not yet mentioned is the fact that Khabouth and Jim Kambourakis are business partners in both Niagara Falls superclub Dragonfly, and the recently closed This Is London (Kambourakis left Stilife in 1994 to open Orchid and, later, Tonic. He heads The Lightning Group.)

“Something new is coming,” says Kambourakis of the now-being-renovated former site of This Is London, at 364 Richmond West. “It’s time.”

Baird, who worked extensively on UNIUN Nightclub, and continues to contribute to INK-owned clubs, respects Khabouth’s leadership.

“Charles was, and still is, taking the risks required to deliver original, award-winning design to this city. Stilife was a prime example of his vision and talent.”

Following the closure of Stilife, 217 Richmond West opened as Fluid in 1995. It later became the short-lived Pop Nightclub, and then lay vacant for a period as the neighbourhood continued its evolution. Increasingly surrounded by condo projects—including a few exciting OCAD-related developments—the space will no longer beckon dancers. It will soon open as The Fifth Pubhouse & Café.

Thank-you to participants Charles Khabouth, Iain McPherson, James Vandervoort, JC Sunshine, Jim Kambourakis, Kenny Baird, and Mark Oliver. Thanks also to Barry Harris, James Kekanovich, Melissa Leshem of INK, and Tyrone Bowers of Allied Properties.

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

Article originally published June 21, 2012 by The Grid online (TheGridTO.com).

In this edition of her nightlife-history series, Denise Benson takes us back to the after-hours nightclub that helped mobilize Toronto’s gay-rights movement in the 1980s.

BY: DENISE BENSON

Club: Komrads, 1 Isabella St.

Years in operation: 1985-1991

History: In 1980s’ Toronto, street corners and dance clubs still served as essential meeting spots for gays and other marginalized communities. The stretch of Isabella closest to Yonge called out to many, especially after dark.

On the outer edges of the Church and Wellesley-centred gay village, the corner was close to popular homo haunts including Yonge Street’s St. Charles Tavern, Trax, and the Parkside Tavern, with gay dance club Stages above it. Nearby bathhouses were plentiful, Queen’s Park was still a major pick-up spot, and easy bar-hopping meant that gay men had lots of options even in those pre-Grindr days.

“The Yonge and Isabella area was really amazingly gay,” recalls event producer Maxwell Blandford, once a key figure in adventuresome Toronto clubs and now based in Miami. “Many bars, along with stores like Northbound Leather, were within a couple of blocks and infused thousands of gay people into that corridor.

“There were loads of transsexuals, rent boys and other sex workers, cross-dressers, goth kids, punk-rockers, and glam-rockers hanging out around House of Lords. There was loads of cruising all over that area. You could find anything anywhere and at any time.”

The upper level at 1 Isabella was a known hub. In the 1970s, it had housed discos including Mrs. Nights and Cheetah Club. Come the early ’80s, it was the original home of influential alternative spot Domino Klub. That club gave way to notoriously tough gay-and-straight dance club Oz, which boasted entrance hallways designed to look like yellow brick roads.

Alain Plamondon, who would become one of Toronto’s most beloved gay DJs, was a busboy at Oz. He tells the story of 1 Isabella’s transition into Komrads, a club he helped build and would go on to work at as busboy, server, bartender, lighting man, and, eventually, DJ.

Alain Plamondon (right) with friend. Photo courtesy of Plamondon.

“Basil Mangano was the owner of the space at 1 Isabella,” Plamondon begins in an email. “He hired John Burt to be a manager near the end of Oz’s existence. John was well-known in the community, and extremely active in gay politics. He convinced Basil to close down Oz to build a club that would bring class to the gay community.

“Komrads, with its shiny, stainless-steel dancefloor, hi-tech sound and lighting—including pink and purple neon lights—was a hit, and the talk of Toronto’s gay community when it opened in August of 1985.”

Komrads shiny dancefloor. Photo courtesy of Shawn Riker.

Why it was important: Open seven nights a week, with a café serving food from the afternoon onwards, Komrads was a safe and well-maintained club that cared about its gay clientele. The club boasted not only state-of-the-art sound, but also the largest dancefloor of any Toronto gay club at the time.

“John Burt was good at attracting crowds,” says George Fichna, one of Komrads’ longest-serving weekend doormen; he had also worked for landmark local gay bars Club Manatee and St. Charles’ Maygay room.

“John kept the place looking nice, with new carpets, paint, marble countertops on the bars, overhead TVs in the dining room, and so on.”

John Burt (left) with Komrads doorman David. Photo courtesy of Shawn Riker.

Partly as a result, Komrads often entertained crowds of 500 to 1,000 people, many of them spilling in from other bars after the 1 a.m. last call.

“For a while, Komrads was the only permanent after-hours club around,” Fichna explains. “In the early days, the bar closed at 1 a.m. and then served coffee, water, or soft drinks. Later, they served under the table.”

Whatever time the crowds arrived, Komrads was a key gathering spot for a community that had grown increasingly organized and politicized. The 1981 Toronto gay bathhouse raids marked a turning point in the community’s fight back against police harassment and other forms of discrimination.

Gregory Plytas (left) and friend in the stairwell. Photo courtesy of Plytas.

A gay and lesbian liberation movement swelled as queers across this country fought against censorship, worked to win key human rights (we were awarded provincial protection in 1986 when “sexual orientation” was added to the Ontario Human Rights Code as a prohibited ground for discrimination, with the federal equivalent granted only in 1996), and mobilized against the onslaught of HIV/AIDS as it took the lives of far too many friends, lovers, and talented people.

“We were fighting for our rights in the ’80s, and Komrads was the place to go to celebrate our political ‘wins,’ with John Burt at the helm,” Plamondon says. “We chose to celebrate life, and had a ‘We’re not going to take crap from anyone’ attitude. We celebrated and we had a political voice at Komrads.”

Komrads matches. Photo courtesy of Andrew Boyd.

At the time, gay and lesbian bars were an intrinsic part of our liberation movement. The dancefloor served as rallying point as much as it did a place to party. For a number of years, Komrads set the pace with its size and unequivocally gay programming.

In the 1980s, the music in gay bars was notably different than most straight dance spots. Whether playing disco, hi-NRG, new wave, underground house, or more commercial house, gay DJs leaned towards remixes, re-edits, and 12-inch extended versions of songs.

Good DJs break new ground, and Komrads’ star resident, Greg Howlett, was one of this city’s best. (Visit the Then & Now Mixcloud page to hear a number of live mixes by Howlett recorded at other venues.)

“Three or four months after Komrads opened, John hired Greg Howlett,” recalls Plamondon. “With Greg at the turntables, Komrads’ success was sealed. Greg played the best that dance music had to offer. He was brilliant.”

Dundas, Ontario native Howlett had played in clubs both straight and gay, including Le Tube, Mrs. Knights and Stages, and came to Komrads as an already-established trendsetter.

“Greg was a risk-taker, and often the first DJ to play songs,” recalls Vince Degiorgio, a good friend of Howlett’s who had DJed alongside him and is now involved in music publishing.

“Because of Greg, there’d be this stampede to stores like Starsound, J’s, and Disco Sound to get what he was playing. Numerous DJs would sit with notebooks, writing down what he played in order to copy what he was doing.

“Greg’s mixing was positively sublime and built a rush. He was a legitimate rock star long before DJs were allowed to be. And he was unique—not in a two-hour residency gig, but in a four-nights-a-week, never-let-you-go, I’m-gonna-peak-your-brains-out style.”

Howlett packed Komrads’ dancefloor during its first few years, but then left the club to work next door at equally popular gay bar Chaps (9 Isabella St., now a Rabba). Howlett played at Chaps until late into his fight against HIV/AIDS. He passed away in 1992, and is reported to have left Komrads in response to internal management struggles.

Gerry Nault (left) and Greg Howlett. Photo courtesy of Shawn Riker.

Plamondon tells me that John Burt resigned as manager after three years at Komrads.

“John, it was his baby, but politics came into play, and Basil and him parted ways in business. John left in the middle of Komrads’ success, and his leaving changed everything.” (Burt chose not to respond to questions about Komrads while Mangano could not be reached for comment.)

Following Howlett, a number of DJs stepped up to Komrads’ turntables at a time when competition was stiff—not only with Chaps next door, but also Club Colby’s at 5 St. Joseph St. and Boots & Buds at 592 Sherbourne.

Lighting man and Starsound Records’ employee Gerry Nault became the key Komrads resident until he too became too sick to DJ. After him, DJs including Carlos C, Kevin Laforme, and Allan Young played for years, but Komrads was equally popular for its live performances.

“Komrads was a dance club, yes, but it was always meant to showcase dance artists and female impersonators as well,” explains Plamondon.

Bronski Beat ticket courtesy of Andrew Boyd.

“Divine was featured twice, and was a huge cult hit both times. Many more would perform, like Sylvester, Thelma Houston, Loleatta Holloway, Bronski Beat, and Jennifer Holliday, from the original cast of Dreamgirls.

“Our most successful concert event was by Village People. Unlike the other acts, Village People were promoted on MuchMusic, and much to everyone’s surprise, 80 per cent of the crowd was straight. We gave local talent the spotlight as well; I have great memories of watching Eria Fachin perform her huge hit anthem “Savin’ Myself.””

Randy Cole as Tina Turner. Photo courtesy of Shawn Riker.

Komrads also featured some of this city’s greatest female impersonators, including Craig Russell, star of the film Outrageous!, and members of legendary drag troupe The Great Imposters such as Randy Cole, who frequently performed as Tina Turner.

Years later, professional female impersonator Stephanie Stephens, now known for her troupe The Imposters and for her own take on Tina Turner, would perform Thursday and Saturday late nights at Komrads. The show, named Hot Spot, also featured performers including Dale Barnett (The Great Imposters), Jackae Baker, and Komrads’ doorman Tony Brown, who appeared on stage as Toni.

Poster courtesy of Stephanie Stephens.

“I will always remember Toni Brown,” says Stephens. “She was the head doorman and wore short spandex pants, and a weightlifting belt around her tiny waist. Toni was eight feet tall, with a James Brown perm. We were friends, and she used to make me laugh, asking people for ID or asking a drunken queen to leave the club, calling them ‘Mary.’

“We had the only late-night show and after-hours crowd, and the place was packed,” Stephens tells me. “It was the spot for drag shows and good DJs. Komrads was lively and welcoming, with little attitude. There was a real sense of community; people seemed to care about what was happening around them.”

Stephanie Stephens (left) with Komrads doorman Omar. Photo courtesy of Stephens.

With its gender inclusive door policy—Komrads was one of the only gay men’s clubs of the time that welcomed women, both gay and straight—late nights, and capacity crowds, the club attracted audiences who mixed more comfortably some evenings than others.

Doorman Fichna recounts a favourite memory.

“I remember a night when a group of girls came in with some straight young men, and we had to remind them that they were in a predominately gay place so if they got a pinch or a grope, they should let it pass. If they started a fight, they’d get thrown out.

“Two of the guys went to the washroom, and then behind them a transsexual. I had a feeling so I stood in the can and watched. The two young men were apart with a urinal in between them, and the [trans woman] stood in front of it, hiked up her dress, and proceeded to urinate. The two boys finished up quick, and got the hell out of there. When she came out I asked, ‘You just couldn’t just use the toilet stall like a lady, could you?’ She replied, ‘It was more fun that way.’ I agreed.”

Packed dancefloors. Photos courtesy of Shawn Riker.

Who else played/worked there: Bars often rise or fall based on the word-of-mouth created by their staff. Komrads employed dozens of popular young men, with bar staff including Todd Gibbons, Tom Paradis, Bradford Paolini, and Roger Reynolds mentioned frequently, along with doorman Omar and a beloved manager named Beatrice.

Popular gay producer/DJ Shawn Riker was a key Komrads employee—maintaining the sound, doing lights, acting as a manager and more—long before he would co-found current gay hotspot FLY Nightclub.

Some of today’s best-known local gay DJs—including Plamondon, Mark Falco, and Cory Activate—DJed at Komrads during its final years.

DJ Scott Cairns became Komrads’ Saturday late-night resident at the close of the 1980s, and recalls playing a mix of underground and crossover house along with more commercial sounds.

“When I first started there, Komrads was basically just another gay dance club, except it stayed open late,” says Cairns. “Because of this, it cleaned up.”

Jackae Baker (right) with Allan Tam on Halloween, 1990. Photo courtesy of Tam.

By 1990, however, this was no longer the case. Komrads had lost much of its crowd. Gay men had flocked to after-hours dance clubs like Twilight Zone, and went on to frequent weekly events hosted at mixed clubs like The Diamond, Boom Boom Room, and Tazmanian Ballroom.

Komrads’ owner Basil Mangano approached innovative promoter Maxwell Blandford, who’d been the force behind Tazmanian Ballroom’s successful Rock & Roll Fag Bar weekly, in 1990.

“Basil asked me to take Komrads over and try to revive the venue,” says Blandford.

He agreed on the condition that Mangano would renovate and allow Blandford to reinvent the space. Blandford created a club-within-a-club as he developed a front-room pub dubbed The Amazon Queen.

“We bought the inside of a 1940s gentleman’s club that I found in the Beaches, and installed it,” he says. “We opened with a Madonna Truth or Dare premiere party benefiting the Toronto PWA Foundation, and hosted a voguing ball with Willi Ninja.”

The Amazon Queen also featured Vancouver singer Naomi McLeod (who’d sung with Sarah McLachlan and Skinny Puppy) performing under the persona of Dolly Kelekatrone, and a selection of tunes that ranged “from Nina Simone to Jimi Hendrix.”

Blandford also hired DJs including Cairns, Falco, and Mark Oliver to play “socially relevant house music” in the club’s main dance club area.

“By the time of Amazon Queen, all bets were off,” Cairns recalls. “There was a new attitude and all that high-energy cha-cha music was pretty much abandoned.

“We all bonded over Warp Records, and the label’s output of records like LFO, Tricky Disco, and Sweet Exorcist’s ‘Testone,’” adds Cairns, who would later make his name at clubs including Chaps, The Phoenix and JOY.

“This UK bleep techno, along with deeper house sounds, were finally breaking into the more mainstream clubs. Amazon Queen and Max brought in a cooler crowd, although that period was more sparse than in the club’s heyday.”

Parties with titles like Fruit Machine and Electric Ass may have brought in trendier gays and celebrities including Boy George, Deee-Lite, George Michael, Depeche Mode, and Adeva, but Blandford couldn’t revive a done deal.

“Our biggest attraction was probably that we served liquor after-hours like a booze can, and never seemed to have any issues,” Blandford admits. “I was told that the reason we were able to remain open was because there was a serial killer targeting gay people on the loose, and the police believed that he was hanging out in Komrads so, by allowing us to stay open, they were able to get better leads. There were always loads of cops in Komrads after hours, and we were never shut down or given a ticket so the story made sense.”

People often gathered on the street outside of Komrads. Photo courtesy of Shawn Riker.

What happened to it: According to Plamondon, Komrads closed in the spring of 1991.

“Komrads closed when Basil sold to the people from Colby’s,” adds Blandford; “Basil gave no notice whatsoever. We just showed up one day and the doors were locked.”

By summer, 1 Isabella St. had re-opened as Bar 1.

“I was fired and later rehired,” recalls doorman Fichna. “When I came back, it was Bar 1, and Basil had his fingers in it again.”

Some of Komrads’ later DJs, including Falco, Cory Activate, and Plamondon—now at The Barn and DJ of the 13-year-strong Retro Drama Sundays at Zipperz/Cellblock—also played at Bar 1. It closed in 1995.

1 Isabella would later host clubs with names like Generations, Radius, and Spincatz, but will long be remembered as Komrads.

“I think Komrads employed a lot of flamboyant gay people who would have had a tough time being themselves working in other venues,” summarizes Blandford. “The volume of clientele that Komrads and the other clubs produced allowed gays to have a serious physical presence, and empowered gay people to rally against homophobia and create community spirit though those dark times.

“Komrads was the anchor of that corner and, as it died, sadly much of the gay presence at that corner ended.”

Today, the site is home of Yonge Street Fitness. [Addendum: Yonge Street Fitness closed doors in December 2013. The space remains vacant.]

Thank you to all who participated, with a special nod to the very helpful Alain Plamondon. Thanks also to Shawn Riker, John Wulff, Gregory Plytas, Allan Tam, Andrew Boyd and the members of Facebook group Komrads Nightclub Survivors.

Late gay activist Rick Bébout provided invaluable history through his important online memoirs, Promiscuous Affections: A Life in the Bar, 1969-2000.

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