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

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

BY: DENISE BENSON

Club: Boots/Boots Warehouse, 592 Sherbourne St.

Years in operation: 1981-2000

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

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

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

The Selby. Photo via Upper Jarvis Neighbourhood Association.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Boots reflected this growth with its own development.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Posters courtesy of Canadian Lesbian & Gay Archives.

Boots boasted no shortage of heat.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Poster for Circuit Wednesdays, courtesy of Scott Cairns.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Circuit promo courtesy of Scott Cairns.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

BY: DENISE BENSON

Club: CiRCA, 126 John St.

Years in operation: 2007-2010

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mario J at Randomland. Photo courtesy of Eve Fiorillo.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fun at Randomland. Photo courtesy of Eve Fiorillo.

Random fun. Photo courtesy of Eve Fiorillo.

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

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

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

Promoter Matt Sims. Photo by John Mitchell.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Article originally published 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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