After almost two decades of hosting the world’s biggest DJs, alongside some of Toronto’s finest, Canada’s largest nightclub recently closed doors to make way for condo development on the waterfront. With the participation of some of The Guv’s key players, Then & Now delves deep to tell the exhaustive story of a club that mirrors – and contributed greatly to – electronic music’s evolution. Rave on.

By: DENISE BENSON

Club: The Guvernment complex, 132 Queens Quay East

Years in operation: 1996 – 2015

History: Charles Khabouth has been mentioned throughout the Then & Now series as his influence in Toronto nightlife is widely felt. Khabouth’s earliest nightclubs, Club Z on St. Joseph and Stilife on Richmond, were pioneering in very different ways. Early in 1996, he began work on a wildly ambitious project, one so successful that it would both cement Toronto’s reputation as an international clubbing destination, and anchor Khabouth’s ever-expanding business empire. But things could have turned out very differently.

In the mid ‘90s, the stretch of our waterfront near Queens Quay and Jarvis was still fairly isolated and industrial. A stone’s throw from Lake Shore Boulevard, it held factories, parking lots and stretches of open space. Condos did not dominate the landscape.

The 60,000 square foot space at 132 Queens Quay East had housed large clubs in its recent past. From 1984 to late 1985, it had been home to the Assoon brothers’ innovative Fresh Restaurant and Nightclub. For the next decade, it was the location of popular club RPM and its sister concert space, the Warehouse.

When Khabouth took over the building on January 1, 1996 he couldn’t have known that he had almost eight months of renovating ahead. But he did know that he had to compete with Toronto’s then-booming, highly concentrated Entertainment District.

“I thought, ‘How am I going to compete with 50 nightclubs side-by-side downtown?’ Khabouth tells me during an expansive interview. “Kids would go to the one area and bop around all night long. I realized I had to do a multi-room venue or I had no hope in hell. That’s why I created five venues under one roof, plus the Warehouse, which really was a warehouse.” Though the Warehouse was already well established as a concert venue, Khabouth mainly attributes this to its size (Toronto has a dearth of such venues with a capacity of two to three thousand).

“There was nothing there,” he exclaims of the space; “There were not even any bars built. Instead, there were boxes that they used to stand up and roll out, with Pepsi-Cola beer fridges. There was no running water. There were columns in the Warehouse; I spent millions of dollars just removing five columns. I rebuilt the stage. An insane amount of money went into there.”

Khabouth’s pockets were not as deep in early ‘96 so he had to spend wisely. He hired Yabu Pushelberg, who had designed Stilife’s stunning interior, and asked them to work on a tight budget. As a nod to Stilife, there was a section of ceiling-to-floor chains installed in what would become the Guv’s main room, but little else was similar.

“They didn’t go all out, in terms of spending money, because they understood the situation,” says Khabouth of the designers. “So the aesthetics were cool, but there was no marble, no granite, no silver leaf ceilings. What we did was build some beds with fun fur, some furniture with bubble gum, purple, lime green and orange vinyl. We made the room sexy, but more of a fun space.”

The Guvernment in 1996. Photo courtesy of a Then & Now reader.

The Guvernment complex opened in summer 1996, with the main room and Acid Lounge off of it, Orange Room, The Drink, and a rooftop patio. This section of the building was licensed for a total of 1600 (over time, and with multiple renovations, capacity would more than triple).

People entered through a curved area, turning around a bend before walking directly onto the dancefloor. Where RPM’s emphasis had fallen on its huge bar in the middle of the room and stage along the east wall, which had a dancefloor sectioned off of it by railings, the Guv’s main room was all about the dancefloor. Bars surrounded it.

Most impressive of all was The Guvernment’s sound and lighting.

“I had the sound system custom made [by New York’s Steve Dash of Phazon]. All of the boxes, the mixing board, everything was custom made for us. We had the identical sound system until the end.

“I had hydraulic trusses – nobody had hydraulics back then – that went up and down, with moving lights. I also got a massive laser; at the time, it was the largest laser in Canada. I wanted the sound and the lighting to wow people. I spent a lot of my money there so that when you went in, you felt ‘Whoa!’”

More than 12 million people would come to be wowed at the Guv over time, but crowds did not flock there from the start. It took a while for people to even know it existed.

“My biggest issue was that by the time I opened, I was in a lot of debt,” Khabouth admits. “That thing was like the ocean; it was never-ending. You’d rip one wall out, and it would be rotted so we’d have to rip out the floor and the ceiling. And then there would be plumbing that had rotted, and electrical issues. It was layer after layer. By the time I opened, I was completely out of money to do promotion and marketing. There was no social media back then, remember.

“We opened in the middle of summer, when The Docks [now Sound Academy] had just opened, and they had this beautiful patio on the water. Cars would stop and ask us how to get to The Docks; they didn’t know we were open or have a clue who we were. It took about three or four months of hanging on to that massive building before we were up-and-running. When you’re supposed to have a few thousand people and you have three hundred, it’s scary.”

Guvernment main room interior in 1996, from a Boost & Titan Productions promo flyer.

Guvernment main room interior in 1996, from a Boost & Titan Productions promo flyer.

Why it was important: There are myriad reasons why The Guvernment (eventually to become known simply as ‘Guvernment’) was a significant venue in Toronto and beyond. Some were evident from its start, including Khabouth’s commitment to dance and electronic music.

Khabouth hired Albert Assoon, formerly of Fresh and Twilight Zone, as Guvernment’s first musical director. Early DJs included names familiar from Stilife, like Joe Marella and JC Sunshine. Still, it was a slow build.

A Saturday night appearance by Danny Tenaglia helped change that. Sound engineer Steve Dash, also co-owner of influential New York club Sound Factory, where Tenaglia played, suggested that Guvernment book him.

“I was like ‘Who the hell is Danny?’” chuckles Khabouth. “He was very much gay focused at that time; the straight market hadn’t caught on to him yet. What happened that night was really weird.

“By that time, we were attracting maybe a thousand people weekly. Then we also had a thousand or 1500 boys show up. When Danny went on, all the shirts came off. I had some people leave, asking ‘Is this a gay club? Is this a straight club?’ It was a funny, but good experience. Danny was so able to drive the sound system – he used it to its fullest and honestly, it was hair-raising.”

As luck would have it, Khabouth had also hired a new resident DJ to launch Spin Saturdays the following week.

Mark Oliver was already well established in Toronto, having played countless warehouse parties, and clubs ranging from the gritty and groovy (Cameron House, Tazmanian Ballroom) to larger and more polished (Klub Max, Go-Go). By 1996 though, Oliver was at the centre of our rave scene, having emerged from the dark rooms of 23 Hop (318 Richmond) to play massive productions.

“I was headlining pretty much every rave in town at the time, and was playing at Buzz, which is now Comfort Zone,” says Oliver. “Charles knew he had to go big with Guvernment, and questioned me. He knew I played the raves, and was probably concerned about all the things he’d been reading about that scene. He also wanted to make sure I would be able to play some of the more commercial sounding club tracks. I assured him that I’d played Klub Max before, and that I always play the room. I don’t like to cheese out all the way, but I do understand the usefulness of a good remix.

“I think Charles was still a bit nervous, but we set a date, which was in September of 1996. Danny Tenaglia had played the week before. From that Saturday until the end, it was packed every week.”

“From the first night Mark was there, I thought ‘Wow. This guy gets it,’” credits Khabouth. “Playing a big room is difficult. The sound has to be big, and the programming is totally different. Mark has an incredible talent. He never misses, never.”

Oliver had a deep appreciation of Guvernment’s sound system. “As a DJ, you want the best sound possible, and it was a dream come true,” he enthuses. “I knew with Albert there that it was going to be something special, based on his pedigree with Twilight Zone. The sound itself was pristine. The monitors matched perfectly to the dancefloor, so whatever you heard up in the booth was what people heard below. The DJ booth was still in the spot where it was at RPM, so it was pretty high up from the dancefloor, and quite removed, which suited me perfectly.”

Guv’s original DJ booth. Photo taken December 31, 1996 by a Then & Now reader.

Though there were occasional live PAs, with performances by vocalists including Gwen McCrae and Octahvia, Oliver played Guvernment’s main room “Every Saturday, from beginning to end, for the first five years.

“It was basically a rave, but there was a dress code,” Oliver describes; “So instead of wearing fun fur, everyone wore shirts that looked like they’d just bought them to get in the club. Then they tried to get them off as soon as they could. Any time there was a shirtless dude, three bouncers would make him put his shirt back on, at least back then.”

Ravers, in fact, were a big part of what kept The Guvernment complex afloat early on. Khabouth rented the rooms to rave production companies, which met everyone’s needs at the time. This helped a scene under scrutiny continue to grow, and paid some bills while word of the Guv spread.

“Basically, the City had jumped all over the rave promoters, and essentially sent the raves indoors,” recalls Jamil Kamal, who started working security at the Guvernment in 1996, and became Khabouth’s right-hand-man in all things risk management.

“The raves were forced into club venues, and Charles had the biggest one.”

Promoters like Better Days, Destiny, Hullabaloo, Kind, Renegades and Syrous took full advantage of the club’s potential. Some people grumbled about the move from warehouses, roller rinks and borrowed spaces to legal venues, but there were advantages.

“I wasn’t against the legal venues as they had proper plumbing, exits, alcohol for sale, and proper security,” says Marcus Visionary, local DJ, producer and drum ‘n’ bass ambassador. “Some people hated the legal events, but many of us embraced them because they were safe, and they were at less risk of being shut down.

“I loved playing inside the Warehouse as it felt like an underground venue, but much more secure. One of my favourite Syrous events was held there – the five-year anniversary [in 1998] with True Playaz, featuring Hype, Pascal, Fats and GQ.”

Syrous ‘Hyped,’ 5-Year Anniversary Party, 1998. Video by Rick Toxic. 

“Our Syrous five-year was one of the first raves where the entire complex, and all the rooms in it, was filled,” recalls Rob Lisi, a Syrous co-founder.

That same year, Lisi and fellow rave entrepreneurs Steve and Wayne Mealing (a.k.a. DJs Stretch & Hooker), Aaron Micks, and Tyler Cho formed Lifeforce Industries, an umbrella organization under which their Syrous, Renegades and Dose brands lived. Between 1996 and 2001, they produced about 10 parties at the Guv and Warehouse (Warehouse became KoolHaus in 1999, following renovations).

“I liked the fact that KoolHaus was an empty shell, and you could create whatever you wanted with it,” says Lisi. “You could have parties there every week, and make them look totally different. The main room on the other hand was already operating as a nightclub. The design and décor were impressive, and the sound system and DJ booth were second to none at that time.

“For the more established promoters, the Guvernment complex was the only game in town. Until we started producing events with 10 to 15 thousand people, and growing into venues like CNE and The International Centre, there weren’t a lot of large, legal venue options in the city. The Guverment’s location meant it was far enough from residential neighbourhoods that you wouldn’t get 20 sound complaints in a night. The capacity of the whole complex was also attractive to promoters because you could accommodate 5000 people, with the potential to program different genres of music in each room.”

The multiple rooms and distinct experiences they offered was always one of the venue’s biggest draws. Khabouth understood how to maximize these differences to create a unique whole.

“I had worked security at clubs like Joker and Big Bop, both of which had multiple floors and DJs, but it was always the same demographic moving from floor to floor,” describes Kamal. “What I really appreciated about Guvernment in its beginning was that you had this incredible complex that catered to completely different crowds.

“Other than the Acid Lounge, every room had its own DJ booth, entry, washrooms, coat check and identity. It wasn’t just ‘The hip-hop room of the Guvernment.’ People would say ‘I’m here for the Orange Room.’ There were people who went to The Drink for years, and never ventured elsewhere. They drove in from the suburbs, went up to The Drink in their dress pants and shirt, and never went downstairs.”

The Orange Room. Photo by Tobias Wang of VisualBass Photography.

The Drink was Guvernment’s VIP space. In the RPM days, the room had been where people went to play pool and gaze out at the lake. Khabouth boarded up the windows, courted light controversy by putting in fish tanks for tables and lining one wall with a shelf of dildos, and hired smart, attractive people to decide who got in.

Zark Fatah, now partner in Capture Group, was one of those people. He had worked at RPM as a go-go dancer, got hired as an early Guvernment bartender, and promoted various rooms at the club before heading to Miami for a stretch. When he came back in 1999, Fatah worked door at The Drink.

“My thing was bringing in the more fashion forward, mature demographic,” Fatah says. “To get in to The Drink was not easy; you had to look a certain part, and cover charge was higher. The Drink was that next level of clubbing.” “

The Drink catered to the suit-and-tie, cigar-smoking crowd,” summarizes Oliver. “The Leafs used to come after their games. Mats Sundin used to hang out there. It was the hot spot. Although you could walk back and forth, that crowd stuck to The Drink and the ravers stuck to the main room.”

Friday nights at The Guvernment also attracted a variety of people to the different rooms. The crowd was largely gay for well over a year, with DJs including Cory Activate, James St. Bass and Matt C playing alongside out-of-town guests. Guv was known to be very gay friendly, with Boy’s Life events, Prism parties, and other special events in the overall programming mix.

DJ Clymaxxx at Global Fridays, 1999. Photo courtesy of him.

Early in 1998, Global Fridays launched as a new weekly. DJ Clymaxxx, known for his signature three-turntable sets (the xxx represents three turntables) and for packing The Joker nightclub for two years’ of Fridays, became a Guv main room resident. DJs Kid C, Dave Campbell and Baby Yu (now official tour DJ for Young Jeezy) joined him, while G-Money played in The Drink, Toney Williams MCed, and people like Neil Forester (now owner of the Substance Group) hosted.

“We called it ‘Global Fridays’ because we wanted to cater to everyone,” explains DJ Clymaxxx. “It was Latin upstairs in The Drink, classic tracks in the Acid Lounge, and a different music format in each room. The main room was straight urban, with R&B, hip-hop, dancehall, and even some soca.

“Urban music was starting to blow up in the mainstream again, but back then you could only really listen to R&B and hip-hop at much smaller venues. A lot of club owners worried about touching an urban night, but then, Charles was never typical. He took a chance on bringing the format into the main room for a weekly. In the process, he captured a massive audience that wanted to experience an urban party in a world-class club environment.”

From 1998 to 2004, Global Fridays packed the Guv, with a range of big-name guests, like Funkmaster Flex, Cipha Sounds, DJ Clue, and DJ Who Kid adding to the vibes. Clymaxxx got crowds pumping to the sounds of anthems like Mobb Deep’s “Shook Ones Pt. II;” M.O.P. featuring Busta Rhymes’ “Ante Up”;” Notorious B.I.G. “One More Chance;” Jay-Z “I Just Wanna Love U,” and 112’s “Only You.”

“The Friday night crowd was extremely passionate about music,” says the DJ. “Thousands would jump up and down, chanting lyrics in unison, and go absolutely nuts. I could literally feel the room shake. That’s another thing that was so different about Charles: where other club owners would tell me to calm it down because the crowd was getting too fired up, he relished the crowd reaction. He would routinely walk into the DJ booth during prime time, inspect the absolute pandemonium going on below, then tell me to kick it up a notch and make it crazier.”

DJ Clymaxxx (left) with Charles Khabouth in 1999. Photo courtesy of DJ Clymaxxx.

“The Guvernment was a spectacle every night, and Charles made it that way,” confirms Kamal. “It was a testament to his vision. People will ask ‘Can you learn what Charles does?’ Operationally, sure, but you can’t learn what he’s created. There’s no book that can teach you that. He can look at a room and turn it into something special.”

Khabouth’s genuine love of dance music fed into that vision. The success of many full-facility raves only added to his belief that electronic music should figure prominently in the Guv’s programming.

“I saw where the music was going, and where the kids were going,” says Khabouth. ”The music was great. My biggest thing in life is that I like to do what I enjoy, and I loved this.

“I used to have a baseball cap I’d keep in the back, and when I put it on, the staff would know I was going to dance. I’d go in the middle of the floor, and dance. I wasn’t thinking ‘How much money did I make tonight?’ I was thinking ‘This is awesome!’ Of course I want to make money, but I was driven by the music, the energy, the kids that got all dressed up to come out, the costumes. It was an era when people came out and had an incredible time.”

In some ways, it’s both impressive and amazing that a venue the size of Guvernment remained committed to an electronic music format on Saturdays for its entire history. There was a period in the very early 2000s when Toronto’s rave scene fractured, the audience for the music shrunk, and the parties moved into more intimate club settings. Guvernment also had to compete for crowds and talent with newer clubs like System Soundbar and Turbo. The guaranteed big room draws weren’t as plentiful then as they would become less than 10 years later, as EDM became all the rage in America.

“It was risky [to focus on electronic music] then, in every way,” says Khabouth. “We had cops harass us; the music wasn’t very commercial, radio wasn’t playing it. Even though we did big numbers sometimes, it was still very much an underground scene. We took a lot of chances.”

DJ Mark Oliver at Guvernment circa 2007. Photo by André M Photography.

Spin Saturdays remained popular, with Mark Oliver at the musical helm. His vantage point allowed him to see a lot more than the crowds; Oliver also observed as touring DJs came to expect the spotlight.

“The first five years, it was just me playing all night, and then we started bringing in more guests, especially after Industry closed,” Oliver recalls. “I remember that some of the guests, instead of having the gooseneck lamps pointed down at the turntables to see the record grooves, they turned them up towards themselves and put them on full blast. They wanted everyone to see them. It soon became evident that a lot of these DJs wanted to be down on the stage, so [in 2007] the room was renovated significantly.

“The original stage, along the east wall, became bottle service – that whole thing was coming into play so they needed to create booths and tables – and the stage itself was moved right into the middle. The DJ booth was put on hydraulics so you could lower it right down. That way the superstar DJs could be front and centre, and when there were concerts, the booth could be lowered underneath the stage.”

Early guests included a number of British DJs, like Carl Cox and Paul Oakenfold, who had played huge Toronto raves as well as at Industry nightclub, but weren’t yet household names across North America. Guvernment was impressive to them.

Paul Oakenfold in Guvernment DJ booth circa 2004. Photo by Tobias Wang of VisualBass Photography.

“For the first few years that guests were coming in, guys like Sasha and John Digweed would say ‘This is the best club in the world.’ It had that reputation,” says Oliver.

“A lot of times, they would tour through the States and play Toronto before going back to Europe. This was before the EDM explosion so they were playing all kinds of weird venues in the U.S., like country bars and stuff. Then they’d come in to Guvernment and be blown away. Some were shocked, like ‘This is better than Ibiza!’”

Oliver missed less than 10 Saturdays during Spin’s long run (“Firstly, I have four kids so I wasn’t going to travel all that much. Also, touring DJs would say to me ‘Why would you go anywhere else?’”). His perspective as an 18-year resident at the largest club in Canada meant he was not only witness to trends in big room club music, but also to changes in DJ styles and skills.

“We started off with Danny Tenaglia, Junior Vasquez, David Morales, and guys who’d been spinning for years,” explains Oliver. “They were true DJs. Then it seemed that anyone who put out a track was a DJ, and many just weren’t. They were producers, and they’d come in and try to DJ, but it would fall apart. A lot of the crowd became less discerning.”

Over time, and with a lot of EDM producers’ reliance on concert-like production values to enhance the impact of their massive beats and dramatic bass drops, crowds also came to expect a show rather than a steady flow of sound through the night.

“For a lot of the younger crowd, it can be more about ‘What’s this DJ going to do visually to turn me on?’ rather than sonically,” offers Oliver. “Some people would look at me and say I was boring because I wasn’t raising my hands and striking poses. But I’m actually working, putting a set together on the fly. Guys like John Digweed, it’s the same thing. His head is down most of the time, focused on what he’s doing. Others would come in with sets all pre-programmed on Traktor or Serato; they were all about the interaction with the crowd. It seems to be split these days; half the crowd is into that while the other half is deeper into the music. I just stuck to my guns and played what I play.”

Digweed DJing Guv main room at Labour of Love in 2005. Photo by Tobias Wang of VisualBass Photography.

Steve Aoki with Bloody Beetroots. Photo by Tobias Wang of VisualBass Photography.

Afrojack at Labour of Love 2010. Photo by Tobias Wang of VisualBass Photography.

No matter where one stands in relation to this divide, or your personal tastes in electronic music, there simply is no denying that both Guvernment and INK Entertainment, the company Khabouth founded as an umbrella organization for his multitude of clubs and lifestyle projects, book the biggest name in the biz. Avicii, Armin van Buuren, Afrojack, Tiësto, David Guetta, Hardwell, Steve Angello, Above and Beyond, Deadmau5, and so many more of today’s top tier touring DJs have played the Guv, many of them multiple times, including early in their careers.

“People say it’s because we throw a lot of money at talent,” says Khabouth of INK’s access to agents and bookings. “I think we pay less than most people do. We’ve been there since day one, and there’s a certain commitment from the managers, the DJs – that ‘Hey, these guys were booking us when we were 500 bucks.’

“If another player comes to town tomorrow, who doesn’t have the relationships, but they had a hundred million dollars, they couldn’t book the same talent. Why? Because we have those relationships, those partnerships, friendships, and understandings. With us, they know the production will be quality, and that we’re going to fill the room. Then you’re building somebody’s name and career.”

INK and the Guvernment have also remained leaders in the electronic music industry through sheer size and volume, with ownership of club venues past and present including This Is London, Cube, Uniun, and Dragonfly in Niagara Falls, not to mention festivals such as VELD. Khabouth also gives credit to INK’s Music Director, Talal Farisi.

“Talal has been with us for 13 or 14 years, and he definitely has his finger on the pulse. He’s 24-7. He’s got a good ear for finding talent, finding who is up-and-coming, and for building incredible DJ lineups.”

In turn, people such as Zark Fatah, who now co-owns clubs such as Maison Mercer, credits Khabouth. “Guvernment put Toronto on the map globally,” Fatah states. “What Charles did was provide an amazing platform for some of the best DJs in the world to come and play our city. In North America, we are one of the few cities that sees the talent that we get.”

There is no question that the Guvernment’s bookings are a big part of what earned the club its international reputation as a place to play, for DJs and clubbers alike. Guvernment regularly ranked well in DJ Mag’s annual Top 100 Clubs lists, reaching as high as #8 in 2008. The club’s design, constant refreshing, and Khabouth’s well-established attention to details also played a big part.

Chroma (formerly the Orange Room). Photo by Tobias Wang of VisualBass Photography.

“I’ve traveled to Ibiza and all the big club destinations around the world, and I still find Guvernment to be impressive,” says Fatah, also an avid photographer and prone to observing minutiae himself. “It was unique, with so many offerings. Design and details were always very important to Charles, and he definitely had the creative vision to push the envelope, and do what he thought would be cool.

“He didn’t have to brand five different rooms, but he did. And then he would renovate and reinterpret each room every few years. A lot of club owners get complacent, and don’t change anything until it gets to be necessary. Charles has always been very progressive in his thinking.”

“I would simply describe the space as world class,” agrees DJ Clymaxxx. “There really was nothing comparable in the city. I’ll always remember the look of awe on people’s faces when they walked into the main room for the first time. I saw that reaction a lot over the years; it was the same reaction I had. Because of Charles’ continued reinvestment in the venue, the club always felt fresh.

“There was a certain ‘it factor’ about Guv – something that just made it feel totally different from any other club in the country,” adds Clymaxxx. “If you ever found yourself in the middle of a packed dancefloor there at 2:30am, blinded by the lights, and with the speakers pounding, you probably know what I’m talking about.”

Who else played there: Although this article largely focuses on the Guv as a significant home for DJs and electronic music culture, it must be said that the complex hosted bands, productions, and music of all types.

Hundreds of artists played on the Guvernment stage, such as Daft Punk, Brand New Heavies, Macy Gray, Jungle Brothers and Le Tigre. The Warehouse and KoolHaus were host to thousands, with a tiny list including David Bowie, Prince, INXS, Bob Dylan, Sonic Youth, Coldplay, Chemical Brothers, The Knife, Portishead, Prodigy, Underworld, Lady Gaga, Justin Bieber, Kings of Leon, Chromeo, My Bloody Valentine, Broken Social Scene, Foo Fighters, Neutral Milk Hotel, The Roots, and Lykke Li.

Lykke Li at KoolHaus. Photo by Tobias Wang of VisualBass Photography.

KoolHaus also got a workout during the Guv’s many full-facility long weekend events, like Labour of Love and Decadence. The room continued to be of importance for junglists as Theory events often spilled over into the space.

Theory was a drum ‘n’ bass series that ran from 2002 to 2009. Launched by former Guvernment talent booker Jose Rodriguez, Theory was co-produced and anchored by Toronto DJs Tasc and Marcus Visionary, with Mr. Brown, Clancy Silver, Frankie Gunns, and others later coming on as co-residents. The full spectrum of dnb and jungle was represented through Theory’s seriously stacked lineups.

“At one point, Theory was the largest dnb company in the country,” says Visionary. “We booked most of the big names over the years. We had Fabio on the rooftop, Andy C and Shy FX in The Drink, Mampi Swift in the Gallery, and several massive raves in KoolHaus and the Guv main room. We also had Die and Krust play a back-to-back set in The Drink, which was very memorable. The Drink was a long, not-so-big venue that would get rammed, and the energy was always so incredible! I also can’t count how many times we had Hype, Calibre and Fabio inside the Orange Room.

“The Guv complex most definitely played a massive role in the development of dnb,” adds Visionary, who continues to DJ and produce prolifically, tours Europe regularly, and now broadcasts twice monthly on British radio station Kool London.

Marcus Visionary (left) with ShyFX at Theory. Photo by Tobias Wang of VisualBass Photography.

Theory in KoolHaus. Photo by Tobias Wang of VisualBass.

DJ Hype in KoolHaus. Photo by Tobias Wang of VisualBass Photography.

Over the years, Theory also presented dnb giants like Grooverider, LTJ Bukem, Photek, Kenny Ken, Suv, Bryan Gee, TeeBee, Calyx, Zinc, and the Digital Soundboy crew. Jungle and drum ‘n’ bass was also well represented throughout the Guvernment’s history by Destiny’s Projek: series, Soul In Motion’s many events, and shows produced by the likes of Toronto Jungle, Sonorous, and On Point.

As mentioned earlier, Guvernment was also a favoured venue for large gay productions.

Prism party (2012). Photo by Alex ‘Billy’ Korittko.

“Revival, the closing party for Pride Weekend, was always the best gay event there,” enthuses Alex ‘Billy’ Korittko, who worked at the Guv for more than 10 years, first doing décor and then as a lighting technician.

“The late DJ Peter Rauhofer did Revival year-after-year for the thousands of men who filled the dancefloor. I will always remember the sunlight flooding in when the patio doors opened at 6am. The party never ended before 9am!”

Korittko mentions a number of other DJs he loved to work alongside, including Ferry Corsten, Paul van Dyk, Gareth Emery, Simon Patterson, Ashley Wallbridge, and Markus Schulz.

Markus Schulz at Guvernment in 2009. Video by Kotsy. See more Kotsy videos from The Guv here.

“The Guvernment set the standards for nightclubs in Toronto,” says Korittko. “No one could compete with the size of the place or the talent that was booked. International DJs called it their Canadian home, and produced tracks named after the venue, and its intersecting streets.”

That said, Toronto talent was also at the Guv’s core. Early on, when each room had its own distinct sound, DJs like George William, James K., Gio, and Dave White were residents. Dave Campbell, Iron Mike, Greg Gow, DJ Aristotle, and others bounced between rooms over the years. Countless local DJs, myself included, played at varying stages of our careers. The Guvernment was a place many aimed to play, and where some built reputations.

DJ/producer Sydney Blu falls into both camps. Known for her love of house and high energy behind the decks, Blu had played clubs like 5ive, Element, It, Mad Bar, Comfort Zone, and System Soundbar before she landed a residency at the Guvernment complex.

Blu started playing at Guvernment in 2002, when she proved herself to be up for long sets and tricky set-ups. Her first Guv gig was playing for the more than 10,000 people who walked by her during the seven-plus hours she mixed vinyl outside the club, as part of that year’s Labour of Love event.

“Charles called, and asked me to come play for the lineup in the parking lot,” Blu recalls. “They put a DJ booth with turntables outside, and I played for every single person who walked into the club.”

By 2005, Blu had played a variety of Guvernment events, as well as at other INK-owned venues. She had a successful Saturday weekly at Film Lounge when she was asked to be a Guv resident at Gallery, a new room set to open.

“I knew Addy, Deko-ze and Nathan Barato were coming, and thought it would be amazing for us all to be residents of the same party,” recalls Blu. “The first night Gallery was unveiled was Halloween 2005, with Steve Lawler. The walls were red velvet, with a giant gazelle head hung over the DJ booth. That gazelle was the Gallery’s signature mascot.”

Sydney Blu in the Gallery. Photo by Sasha Niveole, courtesy of Sydney Blu.

Original flyer for Gallery. Courtesy of Sydney Blu.

Deko-ze in Gallery, 2008. Photo by André M Photography.

From 2005 to 2008, Gallery was a major draw on Saturdays for clubbers into house and techno. Along with Blu and the core crew, Toronto DJs including Simon Jain, Carlo Lio, Evan G, JayForce, Joee Cons , Ovi M, and Tim Patrick tore the room up. Activate was a core promoter of the room, helping to bring in touring DJs such as Donald Glaude, Anthony Attalla, Heidi, Jesse Rose, Paco Osuna, and others.

“It was a dark, hard, afterhours sound,” says Blu of Gallery Saturdays. She lists Mark Knight’s “The Reason;” DJ Chus’ “That Feeling;” DJ Exacta’s “Flippin;” Noir’s “My MTV,” and her own “Give it Up for Me” on Mau5trap as personal anthems of the time and space.

“The crowd was hardcore, I’m not gonna lie. Bottle service did not work in that room; those people had one goal, and that was to dance like no one’s watching! The room’s energy was really electric. The DJ booth was completely level with the crowd so everyone was equal, and everyone was there to unite, and go nuts to the music.”

Similarly, local duo Manzone & Strong established themselves through a tough, tight techno and house hybrid sound that made Guvernment crowds go mad. Joe Manzone and Fab Strong started as residents in The Drink in 2002, played the infamous Skybar sunrise sets, alongside DJs including Dubfire, Benny Benassi and Steve Lawler, and ruled the Gallery on Saturdays during the late 2000s. In 2010, the versatile duo became main room co-residents, with Mark Oliver.

“We have opened up for almost every big name international DJ, and we’ve played a different set every time,” write the duo of their collective approach to mixing. “Nothing is ever pre-programmed or planned. We are very good at reading crowds, and adapt quickly as the energy and vibe changes. Ultimately, it’s always house music.”

Joe Manzone and Fab Strong with Mark Oliver in 2002 and 2015. Courtesy of Manzone & Strong.

Manzone & Strong (middle) with Deep Dish. Photo by Tobias Wang of VisualBass Photography.

Manzone & Strong appear at a variety of INK venues, but the Guv was especially close to their hearts, partly because of the talent booked. I asked them to talk favourites.

“Danny Tenaglia has always been an inspiration to us, both as a DJ and a talented producer. Known for his legendary marathon sets and quirky stage antics, he’s one of the very few who will bring a smile to your face while you dance to his beats. Deep Dish are giants. It’s amazing to watch them fuse different genres together while adding their own twists into the mix. John Digweed is another legend, and one of the nicest guys in the business. He’s a true gentleman and one of the smoothest mixers you’ll ever hear. His sets are always so advanced.”

One of the things about Guvernment was that you never knew who might show up. Prince was spotted many times. Harrison Ford took in a KoolHaus concert. Numerous Raptors’ players were said to be regulars.

“I used to love playing Skybar, on the rooftop,” says Oliver; “We did fashion events on Thursdays, with full-on fashion shows and a proper runway. One night I was playing, and Jamiroquai got up on the runway and started moonwalking in these gold Adidas trainers. It was completely unexpected.

“Another night, Mick Jagger had his 60^th birthday in Tanja, next to the Orange Room. The Stones were all there with their families. A lot of them came up into the DJ booth to hang out, and get up to some mischief.”

“Guvernment was always the highest standard of club in Toronto,” says Blu, who left the city for Miami in 2010 and now lives and works in Los Angeles. “Guvernment was an unstoppable force; there was nothing like it, and people knew about it all over the world.”

On the Skybar patio, circa 2007. Photo by André M Photography.

Who else worked there: No matter how high its production values or unique its rooms, Guvernment wouldn’t have been as successful without its teams of workers.

“I think it had a lot to do with the people Charles chose to work with,” says DJ Clymaxxx, now a star on-air mix show DJ at Toronto’s KiSS 92.5. “From management to staff, from DJs to promoters, Charles was able to identify people who shared his passion – and then let them do their job. That’s a great quality of successful leaders.”

“Charles knows what he’s doing, and has high standards,” confirms Oliver. “He attracts the best people in their fields. When you look at other clubs around town, most of the more experienced staff worked for him at some point.”

Case in point is Fatah and his Capture Group partner Ralf Madi. While Fatah worked The Drink in the late ‘90s, Madi promoted the Orange Room, main room and later produced the iDream events. The two met at Guvernment 16 years ago, and now own venues including Everleigh, Blowfish, and Maison Mercer together.

Chris Schroer and his now-husband Steve Ireson also worked together at Guvernment. Ireson – a nightclub veteran integral to venues including OZ, Go-Go, Industry and 5ive – promoted Boy’s Life and other parties at Guvernment while Schroer started as a busboy in 1998, and was later hired by Khabouth as a Creative Manager.

“It was my job to make sure the tech staff knew what was going on, that the go-go dancers were on time, that the DJs were feeling it, and the sponsors were happy,” says Schroer, who developed marketing ideas as well as concepts for décor and installations.

Former Guv Creative Manager Chris Schroer (right) with Frankie Knuckles. Photo courtesy of Schroer.

Guv lighting tech Alex ‘Billy’ Korittko (right) with his partner Jason Nardari.

Schroer, along with Jenn Woodcock, Alex Korittko and his then-new boyfriend Jason Nardari, came up with fresh thematic décor each Saturday for years. Guvernment’s longtime Technical Director Tom Doyle, early video artist Theo Buchinskas, and dance coordinator Pilar Cote also played integral roles in bringing Schroer’s installation ideas to life.

“Sometimes we would drape the entire KoolHaus in giant tank parachutes or white sheer curtains, and transform the whole space,” Schroer recalls. “We’d also come up with complete custom lighting rigs just for one night.

“Some of my favourite themes include the seven-year anniversary party when we chose ‘super hero.’ In KoolHaus, Tom installed a massive wall of par cans on stage. I worked with a comic book illustrator to create giant comic book panels about the Guvernment. Go-go dancers danced in front of video screens that projected videos of them, creating a feedback loop. In the main room, we installed a giant post-apocalyptic junk yard set, with about 20 used TVs embedded in pieces of twisted metal, with giant pipes steaming out fog. Capoeira dancers with big mohawks battled it out on stage, and Sofonda Cox did her impression of Storm from X-men. Deep Dish said it was their favourite installation at the time.

“Once we hung 300 candles from the ceiling of KoolHaus for a show with Frankie Knuckles and David Morales. Another time, I created a DJ booth out of scaffolding in the ceiling of the KoolHaus entrance that Sydney Blu played in. It was a little rickety, and Syd had to climb scaffolding in her heels, but she was a champ about it. Once, for a gay event sponsored by Benson & Hedges, we created a gold ski chalet themed stage set. I got our male go-go dancers to stage a fake porn shoot throughout the set, which was projected onto screens.”

Comic installation from Guvernment 7-year. Photo courtesy of Chris Schroer.

Schroer now co-owns Dundas West restaurant The Hogtown Cure with Ireson. Pilar Cote lives in Detroit where she DJs and makes music.

Both General Manager Peter Johns and Tech Director Doyle worked at Guvernment for its entire history, and at RPM before it. Doyle, who’s been in the biz for more than 30 years, having done lights and production for a variety of bands and worked at clubs also including The Diamond and Rock ‘n’ Roll Heaven, has an observation about Khabouth.

“The most shocking thing about Charles, compared to RPM’s management, was how much money he spent,” says Doyle. “The Guvernment’s lighting was very high end and quite advanced, compared to other venues, But I noticed over time that it didn’t matter how much lighting you have; if the music is not good, lights look like crap. Lighting enhances the music, and it should always be that way.”

Lighting techs working in a large club have a unique vantage point. While they’re matching lights, lasers and more to the music, they’re also paid to observe how crowds respond to the experience.

“Doing lighting at the Guv over the years, I have lived the evolution of EDM,” states Korittko, who echoes a point made earlier by Oliver. “Back when I started, it was all about the music and the experience. It was never about who was spinning, it was what they were spinning.

“In the last six years of EDM, clubs have had to change. To me, social media changed the purpose of clubs; they became [more like] concerts, with stage-focused lights, DJs placed front and centre, and huge video walls. It’s amazing to have been involved during this transformation and evolution of the scene. I will always remember and wish it was like when I started, but do embrace the change and future of lighting.”

Guvernment Technical Director Tom Doyle (left) with DJ Aristotle. Photo by Tobias Wang of VisualBass Photography.

Guvernment Audio Tech Tim Cromey (left) with photographer Shaya Golbabaei. Photo by Tobias Wang of VisualBass.

Both Korittko and Doyle also make mention of Audio Tech Tim Cromey.

“Tim was Mark Oliver’s personal DJ tech,” credits Doyle. “Tim set up all the DJ rigs for artists over the last eight years. He worked his ass off.”

As for Khabouth, he is quick to praise Jamil Kamal and his security team.

“Handling thousands of people who’ve been partying and drinking, and partying again can be a nightmare. For me, music was my number one focal, but security was right up there. Jamil has played a huge role. He’s shaped and secured a big part of what we do.”

Kamal is very aware of security’s heightened significance at a venue the size of Guvernment, and of the public’s mixed sentiments.

“Security is a hard job that’s not very appreciated,” Kamal acknowledges. “There were a lot of people who were very critical, especially of our search policy.

“We always had a lot of people, and wanted to get them in quickly and safely. The searching became a problem when people got more sophisticated in how they hid their drugs, which was also the time when GHB exploded in Toronto. The girls were taught to go behind the waistband of pants, and shake the legs if people were wearing baggy jeans, and to go into the bras. People complained because it became a much more invasive search, but we did it for people’s safety, not because the staff was ignorant or getting off on it.”

Now Director of Risk Management for all of INK’s properties, festivals and events, Kamal started at Guvernment very close to its beginning, and is quick to mention other door staff who worked at the club for most of its history, including Roy, Omar, Young-Ho (who opened his own martial arts training studio), and security manager James Hwang.

INK’s Director of Risk Management Jamil Kamal (left) with Charles Khabouth (centre) and longtime security staffer Roy (right). Photo by Tobias Wang of VisualBass.

“Most of the staff was there for quite some time – we figured an average of eight years – so it was very family like,” says Khabouth. “There were 250 to 300 people working every weekend. The Guvernment and KoolHaus employed 275 people. The last night we were there, we had 46 people doing coat check. There were 83 security staff. We had 42 bars. It was an army.”

Many of the people interviewed mentioned family-like connections. For some, the Guv literally led to family.

“I met my wife there when she was working cash part-time,” says Kamal. “Now we have three children. One son learned to ride his bike in KoolHaus.”

“Guvernment has been part of so many people’s lives for so long,” says Oliver. “There are people who went there pretty much every week for a decade or more. People have met, and then later gotten engaged there. Whole generations grew up at the Guvernment.”

“The Guvernment nightclub had people who went every week like it was church,” emphasizes Syndey Blu, who has toured the globe since leaving Toronto, and now has numerous projects on the go, including her debut artist album to be released on Dutch label Black Hole Recordings this spring. She returned to play twice at Guvernment in the last year, including a jammed Gallery reunion in January.

“I have lived all over North America now, and I still have never seen a venue as big, or with as many rooms, as Guvernment. It was an adult mega complex, a playground with the best music this city has heard.”

At Labour of Love, 2009. Photo by Tobias Wang of VisualBass Photography.

What happened to it: Unlike many nightclubs, Guvernment did not close due to lack of business. When it was made public almost a year ago that the 2.8-acre piece of property the complex sat on had been sold to a developer, there was shock. The club was packed every weekend, its influence still widely felt.

“The Guvernment set the bar in terms of sound, lighting and design in Canada,” states Rob Lisi, who went on to co-own Turbo nightclub, and created Benson & Hedges Goldclub series, which toured top international DJs across the country. After seven years spent working in Switzerland, he recently returned to Toronto to join INK Entertainment as Director of Marketing.

“Guvernment was the largest indoor nightclub, and the most successful nightclub in Canada, bar none. Guvernment was a must-play venue for the biggest DJs in the industry, while also giving local acts a stage to play on. It played a major role in supporting electronic music, and never changed direction on Saturday nights. It just evolved with the music, which is pretty remarkable. Many may scrutinize, but few can accomplish what the Guvernment was able to achieve.”

Unfortunately, Charles Khabouth was unable to buy the property. He did manage to get a year’s extension on his lease. INK went all out in booking many months of special events and top draws. The club’s closing weeks included names like Deep Dish, Danny Tenaglia, DVBBS, and Zeds Dead. The final weekend (January 23 to 25) featured Armin van Buuren, Knife Party, and Deadmau5 in the Guv’s main room, along with Manzone & Strong and Mark Oliver (KoolHaus closed out January 31 with a pre-Carnival performance by soca act Kes the Band).

Oliver, deservedly, got to play the final set inside Guvernment on January 25^th, partly due to the insistence of Joel Zimmerman a.k.a. Deadmau5.

“I remember the first time he came to the club; he wasn’t Deadmau5, he was Joel, and was keen,” says an appreciative Oliver. “He still is. Joel has a lot of respect for Guvernment, and for me.

“Closing night felt like a dream, mainly due to the amount of love and emotion in the club.“

Deadmau5 on closing night. Photo by Tobias Wang of VisualBass Photography.

Mark Oliver with his new gold-plated decks on closing night. Photo by Tobias Wang of VisualBass Photography.

That night, before the Deadmau5 set began, Zimmerman and members of the Toronto Rave Community presented Oliver with gifts purchased as the result of a crowdfunding campaign: a framed gold record and pair of limited edition, gold-plated Technics 1200 turntables.

Oliver played on the decks that very night (“They won’t be sitting in a trophy case. I’ll be playing on them forever.”), as he rounded out the eve with an all-vinyl set, which kicked off with classic crowd favourites including “Give Me Love” by Alcatraz, and the Tim Deluxe mash of Layo and Bushwacka’s “Love Story,” featuring Julie McKnight’s poignant vocals from “Finally.”

“At 7am, the place was still packed,” describes Oliver; “It didn’t look like a single person had left the entire night.”

Oliver rounded out the final set with “A percussive techno version of “The End” by The Doors,” and a white label 12-inch that incorporates the melody from “Con te Partirò” by Andrea Bocelli. First though, Oliver’s son Declan sang the operatic pop song, translating to ‘time to say goodbye,’ a cappella.

“There were about 1700 people in the room when Mark’s son started to sing,” recalls Khabouth. “The room went fucking silent. 1700 clubbers silent at 7:15am. People were taken by it. They wanted to be there until the end. That was really touching.”

Khabouth then brought things to a close, playing the 15-minute Patrick Cowley mix of Donna Summer’s “I Feel Love.”

Closing night video by Alex ‘Billy’ Korittko.

“Closing night was one of the most emotional days of my life,” says lighting tech Korittko; “It was like losing a family member. It was the first time I went down to the floor and danced in the middle with people who were customers, and had became close friends over the years. Toronto, North America and even the world have lost one of our best venues.”

Demolition of the Guvernment complex began in February, with much of the building now reduced to rubble. In its place will eventually stand a massive new waterfront development, with a mix of condos and office towers.

Demolition of the Guvernment complex, February 2015. Photo by Alex ‘Billy’ Korittko.

Demolition of KoolHaus in progress. Photo by Kurtis Hooper.

(Kurtis Hooper has documented the tear down and demolition in detail. Visit here for more photos.)

Oliver has accepted the change, and puts the events in perspective.

“It’s nice to have had a beginning and an end, much like the sets we weave,” says the DJ. “It’s like the rave scene; I saw it grow from a very small number of people to 15,000, and now VELD [INK’s signature electronic music festival] has 60,000-plus people. To have been there from ground zero is quite special.

“I think it came full circle,” Oliver observes; “We were at the peak of the rave days when The Guvernment opened. Now, the rave scene has evolved, and there’s a whole new generation.”

The question becomes: where will this new generation now go to soak up electronic sounds in Toronto? There’s no single answer, of course, as there are many shades of electronic dance music. Deeper takes on house and tech have steadily risen from the underground to influence pop music (think Disclosure, Keisza) and EDM (David Guetta and Steve Aoki are now also producing deep house) alike, but there are new sounds and trends emerging constantly.

The range of venues we have in Toronto reflects this. Soulful spots like Revival and the Assoon brothers’ Remix lean toward house music’s warehouse roots. Clubs like CODA, Ryze, and, to some degree, Maison Mercer are homes for the underground and emergent, particularly on the house, tech and techno fronts. Spaces including Wrongbar, The Hoxton, and Mod Club are important, but more eclectic and event driven.

These venues, and others, may see some spillover as the more musically adventurous among Guvernment’s regulars venture to new spots. But in the end, Khabouth is most likely to maintain his audiences through the booking of established electronic music DJs at a variety of INK Events and INK-owned clubs, including Uniun, Cube, and Product. INK also partnered with Live Nation to co-present both the Digital Dreams (June 27) and VELD (August 1-2) festivals this year.

There’s no doubt about it – big beats are big business, and INK has top billing.

Tune! (2007). Photo by André M Photography.

“To be honest, nobody can take the talent that Charles has been booking because Talal and INK have such a lock on so many of the best DJs in the world,” says Fatah. “I don’t think another venue is gong to be able to steal their thunder. It will just be a temporary break.”

(For those keeping track of Toronto clubs-turned-condos, Fatah also revealed that the building Maison Mercer is in has been to sold to a developer, and will eventually open as a condo hotel. Maison’s lease is up in March 2016, though Fatah does expect an extension.)

Khabouth, who is set to open his own Bisha Hotel and Residencies where Klub Max once stood, is a notoriously restless businessman so it comes as no surprise that he has some other big plans.

INK now owns Polson Pier venues including Sound Academy (formerly The Docks), Cabana and Solarium. They will close on April 1^st for extensive renovations. Before the year is out, a brand new event space will emerge there, complete with new name.

“I want to give the city a state of the art, next level of both clubbing and concert venue,” says Khabouth. “I’m focusing on design, comfort, making sure we have better air quality, the smell in the bathrooms not being there, stupid little things.

“The sound is going to be awesome. We’re doing the best we can so that from anywhere in the room, you can see the DJ or band. We’re raising the floor in the back of the space. We’re looking at where people enter, and where they go. There are bathrooms in every corner. I’m looking at everything, including service. I want people to walk out saying ‘That was a great experience.’”

I’m told we can expect great innovation, both inside the club and out. Hint: you’ll be able to take in city views all year ‘round.

Khabouth has also spoken broadly of a massive club he hopes to open before the decade is out. Though this plan appears far from firm at the moment, it calls to mind something Mark Oliver said.

“There are so many great DJs coming into town, and huge demand for club music in Toronto. In the short term, smaller clubs should thrive as there will be 3,000 people out there that aren’t going to Guvernment. I think there will also be a huge club – even bigger than Guvernment. A lot of DJs who used to play Guvernment regularly outgrew it. Look at Armin Van Buuren, Avicii or Deadmau5 – they’ve had to go and play stadiums. I think a club that could hold 10,000 people could be busy every week.”

Only time will tell, but one thing is for certain: there will always be new generations of clubbers looking for places to call their own.

Thank you to participants Alex ‘Billy’ Korittko, Charles Khabouth, Chris Schoer, DJ Clymaxxx, Jamil Kamal, Manzone & Strong, Marcus Visionary, Mark Oliver, Sydney Blu, Rob Lisi, Tom Doyle, Zark Fatah, as well as to André M Photography, Elaine Quan, Kotsy, Kurtis Hooper, and Tobias Wang of VisualBass Photography.

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

Article originally published October 8, 2013 by The Grid online (thegridto.com).

This edition of Denise Benson’s Toronto-nightlife history series tells the story of how a local gay-community landmark was reborn in the late ’80s as a cutting-edge alternative club where you could dance to acid-rock and acid-house alike.

BY: DENISE BENSON

Club: Empire Dancebar, 488A Yonge

Years in operation: 1988-1992

History: In a city where history is so often obliterated or obscured to make way for the new, there’s something comforting about the old clock tower still found atop 484-488 Yonge. It was built in 1870, as part of the original Toronto Fire Hall No. 3, which remained at the address until its move around the corner, to Grosvenor Street, in 1929.

After the hall closed on Yonge, that building was occupied by retail businesses until the St. Charles Tavern took root in 1951. By the early 1960s, the St. Charles was known to be a gay bar. It, along with the nearby Parkside Tavern, became a significant gathering spot that would help hasten the development of queer social life anchored around Yonge during the 1970s. The St. Charles, while also remembered as the focus of homophobic attacks (especially at Halloween), remains one of this city’s best-known gay bars of all time. A number of discos opened above it over the years, with the most popular being The Maygay and Charly’s. A club called Y-Not also operated upstairs in the mid 1980s. By 1987, following years of neglect, the St. Charles was a shadow of its former self and closed.

A year later, the upper level would re-open as Empire Dancebar, a versatile venue dreamed up by friends Dave Craig and Michael Marier. As a teen, Craig had been an MC and DJ in TKO Sound Crew, a popular group that was eventually inducted into the Stylus Awards Hall of Fame in 2008. Craig left TKO to join a new crew, Romantic Sounds, which was started by Marier. Together, they produced events including The House, a weekly underground jam held at the Party Centre at Church and Shuter. As their crowds increased each week, so too did the building manager’s rent demands.

“Eventually Mike’s dad, Bob, suggested that we should get our own space, and he funded the creation of Empire with a quarter-of-a-million dollar investment,” says Craig.

He cites a wide variety of inspirations for the club’s creation, including the house-centric Wednesday nights at The Diamond and Sundays at The Copa, New York’s legendary Paradise Garage, and art galleries in both NYC and T.O. Friend Michele Geister, then a producer at MuchMusic as well as DJ at Tazmanian Ballroom, also introduced Craig to cutting-edge music videos viewed in the Much editing rooms after-hours. This all fed his brain, as did going to check the Taz itself.

“While outside [of the Taz], I saw them turning away tons of good-looking, well-dressed people,” recounts Craig. “I said to myself, ‘I want us to open a club that caters to the people who they are turning away.’ However, on weeknights, I wanted to reach the art crowd, and only the authentic downtown scene, which led us to glam rock and alternative.

“I led the development of the Empire concept and creation of various theme nights, while Mike deserves credit for the awesome sound system, and making the construction happen.”

Empire Dancebar launched November 5, 1988.

Empire’s marquee. Courtesy of Tim Barraball.

Why it was important: Opened at a time when the only busy late-night haunts remaining on Yonge between College and Bloor may well have been the nearby McDonalds and gay dance club Komrads, Empire was a destination spot. With a legal capacity in the area of 600-700 people, it was also spacious—and a bit of a risk as a result.

Craig and Marier chose a dark décor that practically screamed “alternative club!” A long, steep staircase, bathed in black light, led to the second-floor entrance. Empire was a huge, black-and-grey rectangular room with incredibly high ceilings, and signature black-and-white-checkered floor tiles. Its dancefloor was surrounded by industrial chain-link fencing and slightly raised seating areas, complete with round tables upon which staff placed silver ashtrays and red candles.

Bar counters were all a high-gloss black, with the large, main bar located close to windows that overlooked Yonge, while smaller beer bars were placed closer to the club’s rear, along with a pool table, bleachers, and bathrooms. Hallways were painted with murals, many of them in day-glo colours. Local artists were commissioned to create installation pieces while video editors, including early staffers at MuchMusic, crafted custom visuals that played on Empire’s many TV screens. A hundred stick strobe lights placed in the ceiling over the dancefloor would also flash as theatre lights filled the floor with solid colours.

Empire’s dancefloor. Photo courtesy of Tim Barraball.

“From the DJ booth, you could control every light in the room, including every TV, and you could go pitch black in the entire venue except for the lights at the cash registers,” recounts Craig. “The effect was very sensual.”

He also remains proud of the system installed by Marier (whom I was unable to reach for comment).

“The 20-speaker Cerwin Vega surround sound system was designed to feel like you were front row at a live show, with a deep heavy bass line.”

“Empire had fantastic sound and lights,” confirms DJ Mark Oliver, an early Thursday resident. “It felt like a lot of time, money, and effort had been invested. Dave and Mike had loads of experience, and it showed.

“Empire was comparable to Twilight Zone in terms of size, but it had a more industrial feel, not just musically speaking. I also loved the DJ booth; it was so spacious, and there was a view of Yonge Street behind it.”

“I was blown away by the sound system,” agrees Jennifer Johnson, a Boom Boom Room and Big Bop staffer who attended Empire’s opening night, and soon after became its star bartender for three years.

“I was in awe of the Empire space. It was huge and open, but still dark and ominous like the Limelight in NYC. It wasn’t in a church, but it was built in [an old fire hall] so it had a cool bell tower, and crazy underground passageways in the bowels of the building that seemed to go on forever. You could feel the history in that building.”

Johnson had followed friend Chris Sheppard to the Empire, just as she had followed the DJ at clubs including Domino, Voodoo, BioRhythm, and The Copa. Sheppard played some Saturdays (“we couldn’t afford Chris every weekend,” Craig admits), but especially helped put Empire on the map with its first New Year’s Eve party, held December 31, 1988.

“At that time, New Year’s Eve was not a big deal downtown; many places offered free admission or only charged $5-to-$10,” recalls Craig. “My feeling was that we should reinvent the way people partied on that night.

“CFNY [now 102.1 the Edge] was at the forefront of live-to-air broadcasts back then. We had the regular-night party with Chris Sheppard followed by the late-night [party] with Deadly Hedley, all broadcast live. The tickets were $50 and sold out within days. End result: After all that media frenzy, Empire Dancebar was packed to the rafters every weekend.”

At its peak, Empire was open six-to-seven nights each week. Much like Twilight Zone, Voodoo and RPM before it, Empire became known as a venue that bridged the worlds of rock, alternative, house and, to a lesser degree, hip-hop.

“The programming was fairly consistent,” says Craig, who hired all of the DJs, developed the theme nights, and headed promotions. “It was alternative during the week, and dance on the weekends, with Psychedelic Wednesdays sandwiched in between.”

Early resident DJs at Empire included duo JohnPaul, CFNY’s Skot (now Scot) Turner, Siobhan O’Flynn, and Terry Kelly. Silver Crown alumni James Stewart held down Saturdays for a stretch.

DJ James Stewart (right) with friend Vadim. Photo courtesy of Michelle Fabry.

Craig also credits promoter Michael Holtzman for bringing “glamour and fashion to Thursday nights at Empire, with downtown DJs including Dino & Terry and Mark Oliver.”

“I think Dave and Mike were shocked the first time they heard me play for them,” says Oliver, who came to Empire early in his career, when he was known primarily for playing rare groove and acid jazz at Johnny K’s Krush and Tazmanian Ballroom.

“I had made a name for myself in a very short period of time, but only had one turntable at home and no mixer. All my money went towards buying records, so I learned how to mix in front of a live crowd.

“Empire was the biggest room I had played, and the sound and lights were much more like Twilight Zone than the Ballroom, so I mainly played acid house. Patrick ‘D-Nice’ Hodge from Starsound and myself were the only DJs playing ‘Voodoo Ray‘ at the time, so that was a big one. Todd Terry’s early acid-house anthems were in regular rotation, most notably the massive ‘Can You Party‘ under his Royal House alias.”

Similarly, Paul Azevedo played at Empire early in his career. More recently known as owner of electronic-music specialty store Slinky Music, Azevedo was half of Empire’s Monday-night DJ duo and had a heavy lean toward industrial, alt-rock, and metal.

“I loved Paul’s sincere love and devotion to the music,” shares Iain McPherson a.k.a DJ Iain, a Monday night regular.

“Along with Dave Allen at Voodoo, I consider Paul to be one of the two most fearless DJs I’ve ever heard. I hadn’t heard someone play stuff that was so atypical of club music in a club—like Voivod or Metallica’s ‘One‘—and get away with it. Thus, the people who came out on Mondays were totally into the music, too.”

Dave Craig at the DJ booth: Photo courtesy of Michelle Fabry.

“What I loved about the Empire was its diversity, and how smoothly Dave Craig transitioned it to make it so all music lovers felt at home,” offers Jennifer Johnson. “Dave had each night carefully planned and organized with a special event, DJ, or cool new theme. We were rammed most nights.”

Perhaps the busiest and best-known night at Empire was Psychedelic Wednesdays. Clearly inspired by the success of RPM’s huge Psychedelic Mondays, Craig developed the theme and promotions, but it was his hiring of Derek Perkins as resident that gave the night its edge.

Psychedelic Wednesdays promo. Image courtesy of Michelle Fabry.

Perkins was a well-versed rock DJ who’d already played at clubs including The Copa, Klub Max, and the Assoon brothers’ Gotham on Bloor. Siobhan O’Flynn suggested him to Craig, and soon Perkins would play not only Empire’s packed Wednesdays, but also take over O’Flynn’s hard-edged Tuesdays when she returned to school.

From 1990 until Empire’s close, Perkins played rock ranging from Donovan’s “Barabajagel,” Ten Years After’s “I’d Love to Change the World,” and The Doors’ “Peace Frog” to Soundgarden’s “Hands All Over” and Jane’s Addiction’s “Stop,” plus some reggae, house, and more on various nights of the week.

Video: Courtesy of Empire regular Tim Barraball

“The music at Empire was fantastic—especially Derek Perkins,” enthuses Michelle Fabry, a coat-check girl and later bar server who worked at the club for a year. She was 19 at the time.

“All us bar girls would try to get our bar covered and sneak to the dancefloor when a favourite song came on. I remember spending so much time dancing in my own little world.”

She was not as big a fan of the weekend nights.

“The crowds on the weekend tended to be suburban and more rowdy than the downtown crowd that frequented the place during the week,” Fabry says. “Everybody was so chill and relaxed during the week. It felt like a meeting place, comfortable and fun. Many of us would go to Chez Cappuccino after, especially if people had done acid or mushrooms.

“Weekends featured more of a suburban clientele, with more townies and people in-the-know on weeknights,” agrees Craig, who sometimes DJed Saturdays, spinning early house and electro, like “Set It Off,” “House Nation,” “Can You Feel It,” and Lil Louis’ “French Kiss.”

“The overall vibe was fashion without pretense,” he adds. “Empire had the biggest names in entertainment just hanging out, with no entourage, no VIP area, and they paid for their own drinks. [People like] Bruce Willis, Duran Duran, and The Cult would stop by and hang out whenever they were in Toronto.”

“I remember many local music artists, such as BTK, Sloan, and Tea Party, hanging out there,” adds Perkins. “There were lots of CFNY peeps, and staff from other clubs of course.”

Perkins remains particularly fond of his Wednesday regulars.

“The hippie kids that came to Psychedelic Wednesdays really walked the walk—and I mean barefoot! I guess they never saw what the floor looked like with the lights on. Or maybe they were just too stoned to care.”

Empire’s Friday nights tended to bridge crowds, especially with the Manchester music theme that was initially brought to life by CFNY’s Scot Turner, and expanded upon by DJ Iain who took over the night in 1991.

Manchester Madness Fridays flyer courtesy of Iain McPherson.

McPherson came to Empire with much experience, having entertained with tight blends of alternative and electronic music at clubs including Nuts & Bolts, The Copa, and Lizard Lounge, which had shut down suddenly.

His audience—and Empire’s—expanded after friend James Kekanovich came on board to help promote Fridays. A Sam The Record Man staffer, Kekanovich would place promo flyers in the CD sections of artists McPherson played, like New Order, Inspiral Carpets, The Farm, Happy Mondays, LFO, Nightmares on Wax, Love and Rockets, and The Chameleons, and diligently handed them out at related concerts.

“We took the attendance on Fridays from approximately 100 people to around 400 within a few months,” states Kekanovich. “The success was based on Iain’s music, and both of us making the time to speak with people who supported what we were doing. Those people became regulars who followed us to other clubs later.”

Some of them also came to Sex on Sundays, a night carried over from Lizard Lounge that found McPherson blending a self-described “typically fucked-up collection of everything from White Zombie and Ministry to Achtung Baby-era U2, electronica like Underworld, Orbital and Prodigy, plus smatterings of festive anomalies thrown in for fun.”

McPherson is keenly aware that he and Kekanovich came on board at Empire during the second half of its lifespan, by which point numbers had dropped and stress ran higher.

“While, at the time, it felt that there was always a simmering pressure to deliver crowds, upon reflection I realize that the owners were surprisingly open to giving unusual formats a chance. It was also a relatively large venue for ‘alternative’ formats at that time, and while Empire was a relatively dark venue, it felt like the club was kept in fairly good repair—at least the DJ booth and gear.

“Being a gear-geek, I loved that, at one point, the layout changed and the DJ booth was moved so that the amp racks were placed right inside the front door, and rose to nearly 10 to 12 feet high. They were the first things you saw when you walked in, and became a signature element of the decor.”

“The bass bins in the centre of the dancefloor made the walls shake,” adds Kekanovich.

Caitlin Webster (left) and Michelle Fabry. Photo courtesy of Fabry.

Who else played/worked there: Empire Dancebar’s staff tended to be young and bold. Sixteen-year-old punk musician Caitlin Webster greeted customers at the door; 15-year-old high school student Eloisa Negrinni was a main barback, and other bartenders and waitresses who contributed to Empire’s adventurous feel included Angie Coda, Tom Scott, and Erin O’Conner.

“The most special thing about the Empire was the team of people who came together to help make it happen,” says Craig. “The core staff was like the cast of a classic film. Jennifer Johnson wowed with her style and creativity, Eloisa was the most fun, and Caitlin was the coolest.

Johnson is mentioned repeatedly.

Empire bartender Jennifer Johnson. Photo courtesy of her.

“Jen totally stood out,” recaps Fabry. “She worked the main bar, and drew everyone in with her charisma and beauty. I thought she was the coolest girl on the scene—sexy, an awesome dancer, and always with a smile.

“Eloisa was like the hippie flower child dancing to Jane’s Addiction, Caitlin was the sweet little street-smart girl, Margaret was the always-smiling busgirl, while Angie was the sexy, leggy waitress. I was the skinny beer bargirl, with long hair, dyed bright red. We were all so different looking, a real mixed bag.”

“Dave Craig had an amazing eye for the unusual,” offers Johnson. “For example, we were primarily a ‘dance club,’ but our door girl, Caitlin Webster, was beautiful and wee, with the biggest mohawk you ever saw and a big-ass chain hanging from her nose to her ear. I imagine many customers were shocked by her look when they came for the first time, but that was part of Dave’s vision—to shock, turn things upside down, and make you think. It was like a circus wonderland where you never knew what was on the menu that evening.

“The staff would dress in costumes for the themes of the nights,” Johnson continues. “One night, we hung a swing from the ceiling, and I remember being dressed as Alice in Wonderland, sailing over a crowd of hundreds of people dancing to house music. It was magical.” (Johnson left Empire in 1991, and went on to bartend at Bovine Sex Club for 13 years. She is now a professional costume designer.)

Empire’s rooftop was apparently also magical, and held quite the allure.

“I remember a couple who had traveled for hours to come to Empire, but didn’t have ID and couldn’t get in,” describes Craig. “They climbed up on the roof, which was quite a task, and entered the dancefloor through the ceiling.”

Perkins has a very clear recollection from his adventure of climbing the clock tower: “More bird shit I have not seen to this day!”

“The coat check room was under the clock, and there was a secret entrance to the stairway,” Fabry explains. “Once, I climbed up to the clock with Caitlin; it was dark, rickety, and exciting. We could see up and down Yonge.” (Fabry later left Empire for the excitement of a trade desk at Merrill Lynch, and now works in Vancouver’s world of finance.)

Jennifer Johnson (left) and Michelle Fabry (centre) with a fellow Empire staffer. Photo courtesy of Fabry.

Many of the people I spoke with remarked upon the building’s own history.

“I’m not a superstitious person, but there was chatter amongst the staff that they would see and hear things before the club opened or afterwards,” shares Johnson. “To this day, I believe I felt a ghost behind my bar one night. A freezing cold hand gently touched my waist from behind; I could feel each finger and thumb on my side. When I turned around, there wasn’t anyone there, but it was freezing cold. I called out, and it went away.”

The building’s gay history was celebrated at Empire with the near-two-year-run of B-Bar Sundays, a night promoted by the ever-creative Gilles Belanger and actor/model Steph Watts (now a TV host and reporter living in New York).

B-Bar opening flyer courtesy of James ‘St. Bass’ Vandervoort.

Johnson also contributed props and other creative elements to B-Bar while James Vandervoort, a.k.a. DJ James St. Bass, was the night’s original resident. At that time, he was also the DJ behind hugely popular gay men’s nights at clubs including Boom Boom Room and Go-Go, and would soon be found at Limelight and raves including Chemistry.

“By the time of B-Bar, boys had been through many great nights at ‘straight’ clubs, and then at all the warehouses and raves as well,” reminds Vandervoort. “There were a lot of options, and an ever-changing roster of nights and events back then.”

Still, B-Bar was a success, with hundreds soaking up the disco and vocal house played by Vandervoort and, later, DJs including Dave Craig and Mark Baggio.

Vandervoort points to classic tracks like Gwen McRae’s “Keep the Fire Burning” and Juliet Roberts’ “Caught in the Middle,” but one musical moment especially stands out to him.

“I once dropped a remix of Candi Staton’s ‘Young Hearts Run Free’ that caused Gilles to practically birth a litter of kittens in the booth! He had tears of disco joy streaming down his face.”

Other Empire resident DJs included Stephen Scott, who played the special Fetish Night events, Mr. Pete, and DJ Dominik.

Last call at the Empire. Photo courtesy of Michelle Fabry.

What happened to it: By 1992, most of Empire’s original regulars had made their way to other clubs, and the venue had lost a lot of its appeal. Dave Craig left Empire in the later half of that year.

“After a very good run, I felt that it was time to move on to a new chapter,” Craig explains. “Clubs with that dark, underground, alternative look and feel would slowly go out of style. People wanted something new, so one day I just stepped away from it all, and took a year off. Empire closed approximately six months after I left.”

But not before a whole pile of rumours circulated. On Christmas Eve of 1992, Empire had been rented out for a special event. There was a disturbance inside the club, and police were called.

“When the police searched the club, apparently they came across a locked room that contained a pro photocopier and a bunch of paper with prints of currency on one side,” recalls Perkins. “I remember a newscaster saying something like ‘a nightclub owner was hoping for an extra Merry Christmas by printing his own gifts’ or something to that extent.”

“Although this story at the end of Empire’s life cycle went on to become part of its folklore, the charges were withdrawn by the crown at the preliminary hearing,” points out Dave Craig, who went on to help launch the sophisticated, but short-lived Zoo Bar on Queen West, and was a key player at Murray Ball’s hugely successful Whiskey Saigon in the club district. (Craig is now Chief Development Officer of the Marilyn Monroe Café franchise.)

“To this day, I have the upmost respect for those Empire boys,” adds Perkins. “No matter what people think they were doing in those last weeks—I truly have no idea—all I can say is that when the cops closed the doors on that fateful day before Christmas, I thought the records I had locked up there were gone for good.

“Mike unexpectedly showed up a couple of weeks later at my apartment, holding my crates of records and my last paycheque! I can’t tell you how surprised and impressed I was to see him—a stand-up guy in my books.”

Perkins went on to play at clubs including Zoo Bar and Whiskey Saigon, co-founded the popular Freakshow all-ages nights with Michael X, and eventually ran his own “Club Courtesy” after-hours on John north of Queen, and the LIFE Restaurant below. He also opened early digital-recording studio Rhythm Method. (Perkins now lives in Vancouver and works as a marketing director for a national coffee company.)

Like Perkins, Iain McPherson is fairly certain that Empire never re-opened its doors after that Christmas Eve. He and Kekanovich would go on to do nights at clubs including Limelight and Factory (later known as OZ), as well as co-produce the Nitrous raves.

They also did a brief stint at Club Time, which opened at 488 Yonge in late 1993, “but that was a pretty depressing reincarnation of the space,” says McPherson. (Both he and Kekanovich are now instructors at Durham College.)

The upper level at 488 Yonge continued to host clubs, with Time followed by The Tower. Gilles Belanger and others would open it as 488 Yonge a.k.a. Circus in 1995, with signature nights including S.T.U.D. Bar with DJ Scott Cairns on Fridays, and my own S.H.E. Saturdays.

488A Yonge is now home to rental apartments while independent retail outlets, including gear shop Metro Sound & Music, line the street below.

Thank you to participants Dave Craig, Derek Perkins, Iain McPherson, James Kekanovich, James Vandervoort, Jennifer Johnson, Mark Oliver, and Michelle Fabry as well as to Erin O’Connor, Gilles Belanger, and Tim Barraball.

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

Article originally published April 18, 2013 by The Grid online (thegridto.com).

Denise Benson revisits this influential Queen West resto-lounge that brought together bohos, bankers, artists and trendsetters for a menu that included good eats, DJed beats, a smorgasbord of live music, and a diverse cast of characters.

BY: DENISE BENSON

Club: Gypsy Co-op, 817 Queen West

Years in operation: 1995–2006

History: Though perhaps now difficult to imagine, in mid-1990s Toronto, it was still unusual for bar and restaurant owners to open sizable spots on Queen Street west of Bathurst. Trinity Bellwoods Park felt far-off, while Parkdale was not the trendy destination point it is today.

Still, evening social life on Queen was slowly moving westward. Boom Boom Room had run successfully for five years, Sanctuary had brought the goths to Queen and Palmerston, Squirly’s offered cheap nosh ‘til late, and Terroni opened its original location at 720 Queen West in 1992.

A pioneering address was 817 Queen Street West, near Claremont. In the late ‘80s, Marcus and Michael O’Hara opened the über-cool Squeeze Club there. The Squeeze was a combo restaurant, bar, art space, and billiards hall that soared at first, and struggled later. When the business went up for sale, the brothers Borg scored the location.

Marcus O’Hara’s Squeeze Club pre-dated Gypsy at 817 Queen West. Photo courtesy Vintage Toronto.

Mike Borg was well known in Toronto club circles. He’d worked as a manager and promotions director at venues including RPM and the Phoenix, and had co-owned Queen West resto-lounge Left Bank with Darryl Fine (Bovine Sex Club) and Nick Di Donato (Liberty Group). Joseph Borg had owned and operated Studebakers, a rock-themed diner.

When Left Bank was sold, the brothers—along with early partners including lawyer John May and DJ/producer Gio Cristiano—set their sites on transforming 817 Queen West. They opened eclectic restaurant, lounge, and music venue Gypsy Co-op late in 1995.

“We wanted to create a place which was not the ‘fashionable’ hang out, but that had an edge, was hip, and showcased local talent without pretention—a bohemian retreat, so to speak,” explains Mike Borg.

“With getting older and leaving the fast-paced club scene, I wanted a smaller, more sophisticated venue that wasn’t all polished and overdesigned,” he adds. “Literally, most of the décor inside was bought at thrift stores, antique shops, and many remnants of the Squeeze remained [3rd Uncle contributed design elements]. The vibe had to be cool and relaxed, with as much an emphasis on music and the bar as there was on food.”

Gypsy Co-op’s entry. Photo courtesy of Izzy Shqueir.

Open six days and nights a week, Gypsy Co-op was warm, wood-lined and unique. At street level was a long rectangular room, with a ‘general store’ and restaurant in front and a lounge space in back. The sizable store section was stocked with retro candy, specialty teas, cigars, magazines, incense and more, with one’s eyes also drawn to the doll parts, album covers and various trinkets literally hanging about.

Behind this area lay an open kitchen, easily visible to those who packed the large dining room. Here, mismatched chairs were placed around tables adorned with magazine clippings lacquered onto their surfaces. The huge ‘Captain’s table’ was popular with large groups. Behind it was the heavy velvet curtain that divided resto from lounge.

The back bar and lounge area featured a functional fireplace, dim lighting, candles, flowers, board games and a pool table or two, often pushed aside to make way for dancing. A small DJ booth faced this area, while Gypsy’s long bar ran along the easterly wall. Bar stools and couches provided plenty of seating.

Gypsy Co-op’s back bar. Photo courtesy of Mike Borg.

Original art was hung around the entire space, with new work showcased monthly.

“Gypsy Co-op wasn’t predictable at all,” says Billy X, a nightclub veteran who’d bartended and promoted for clubs including Silver Crown, Paparazzi, Catch 22, The Living Room, and Klub Max before Gypsy.

“The cutlery was mismatched, the tables and chairs were put together on a dime, and the place was decorated in Mike’s own style. They also used the slate from Squeeze Club’s pool tables to build Gypsy’s bar. It was thrown together on the cheap, on some levels, and yet somehow it all fit together nicely. There was a warm feeling in there, also a real Queen Street feel, and the booze flowed nicely too.”

Upstairs was The Hooch, renovated and expanded in 1997.

“The Hooch was a small dark space, with old wood floors, a fireplace, vintage fabrics, oil paintings and a stage,” describes Mike Borg. “Originally I wanted to have an old 1920s-30s style supper club, but it ended up being our live music floor. We also did swing dance nights and booked the room out for many private functions.”

The Hooch (upstairs at Gypsy Co-op) in later years. Photo courtesy of Izzy Shqueir.

Why it was important: With its defined aesthetic, broad appeal and word of mouth promotion, Gypsy Co-op helped invigorate a neighbourhood.

“I think that Gypsy really opened up that whole western part of Queen Street,” says Billy X. “Back in the day, it seemed far west. The only other places around there were spots like The Sanctuary and Octopus Lounge. I question how quickly it would have come around for The Drake and all of those other venues if it wasn’t for the Gypsy.”

“The Gypsy was a very cool, underground, chill-out spot,” underscores Cristiano, who’d DJed at Catch 22, the Phoenix, The Joker, Velvet Underground and elsewhere. “It had a little bit of everything, and kind of reminded me of Mike a bit—bohemian, psychedelic, and funky. It was the first of its kind on Queen. I really think the Borg brothers nailed it.”

The brothers opened Gypsy Co-op at a time when lounges were popular, and restaurants had begun to hire DJs en masse. But very few venues mixed resto, lounge, DJed and live music—all while serving high-quality food.

“We put a strong emphasis on the food,” states Joseph Borg. “People could come to a cool, relaxing place, be dressed down, and still have five-star food.”

“Gypsy did really well during restaurant hours too because they offered great food at great value, in a really cool, eclectic environment,” agrees Billy X. “I remember there being a great steak dinner for $12—a bargain. It was accessible.”

Billy X (left) and Andrew Dmytrasz. Photo courtesy of Theresa Szalay.

Restaurant critics took note, and their positive reviews helped diversify Gypsy Co-op’s crowd, which included artists and CEOs alike.

“Gypsy was very much a local, with friendly, accepting people,” describes Joseph Borg. “We could have a room with 75-year-olds, families with kids, trendsetters, and people just out to party, and all seemed to be able to exist under one roof. We always maintained the community feeling.”

“It was a great date spot, and a great place to meet new people,” points out Theresa Szalay, a former bartender at OZ nightclub who played many key roles at Gypsy during the eight years she worked there.

“At the beginning, during the week, Gypsy definitely would get the ‘starving artist’ types that paid for their beer with all the loose change in all their pockets,” recalls Szalay. “As time went on and nights were promoted, the crowd was very Queen Street: artists, actors, musicians, DJs, hipsters, foodies and such. I always found that Gypsy really attracted music and DJ followers, as well as many other people in the hospitality business, because the whole funky restaurant/lounge concept was new for Toronto.

“I think people who went to Gypsy were there for the whole experience—the food, the vibe, the music, the art, the tarot card readers, the belly dancers, and also the wild staff. One waiter, named Ron, would walk on his hands to tables to take an order, and then serve a pint of beer balanced on his head. These are the reasons people spent complete nights hanging at Gypsy, and kept coming back.”

Gypsy staff Kristy Dineen (left) and Marla Silva. Photo courtesy of Theresa Szalay.

“My fondest memories of that place are about the clientele and the music,” adds Andrew Dmytrasz, a head bartender and one of Gypsy’s resident heartthrobs. “It was such an eclectic crowd. You had everyone in there—your suits, your hipsters—even me as a clean-cut Mississauga boy, I kind of fit in there too, somehow. It was an artsy, but very open place.”

“Gypsy worked because the blend of people was just right,” summarizes DJ Vania, a well-established Toronto talent who spent seven years spinning at Webster Hall in New York before returning home and choosing to play in more intimate venues.

“The staff was attractive and could execute. The food was good, and the music never got in the way. It’s a tricky balance that most resto-lounges can never attain. The best part was the vibe—it was very chilled and relatively stress free. That started at the top with the Borgs, and trickled down through the staff and on to the customers.”

The balance attained between the brothers Borg (“I was the visionary ‘street’ guy and Joe brought calm, balance and business to the forefront,” states Mike.) would later be tested at their much larger Fez Batik, opened on Peter Street in 1999, but it was perfected at Gypsy and personified in the venue’s signature Tuesday weekly, dubbed Salon 817.

Tuesdays were industry nights in the truest sense. Mike Borg, along with host/promoter Billy X, resident DJ Vania, his brother Vadim, and Gio Cristiano, had extensive contact lists of fellow bar staff, and put them to good use.

L-R: Mike Borg (Gypsy Co-op co-owner), Billy X, Andy Frost of Q107. Photo courtesy of Mike Borg.

“In the first year, we had maybe 50 to 100 people out, largely a lot of our friends, and then it took on a life of its own,” describes Billy. “There would be nights where I’d know 10 or 20 people, but the other 500 I did not. We were doing some big numbers on Tuesdays at points.”

Salon 817 ran until 2003, with Vania spinning “rare groove, soundtracks, sound library obscurities, and, of course, trippy lounge sounds, always with a sense of humour,” while a range of live musicians performed.

“We had everything from barbershop quartets to East Coast-style bands, sitar players, bongo players, rock guys, jazz guys, and everything in between,” recalls Billy. “It was an open stage for anything we thought was interesting.”

Upstairs on Tuesdays, The Hooch became synonymous with band King Brand Valium.

“They were a trippy, talented group of studio and touring musicians who attracted a lot of other high-profile local musicians,” says Mike Borg. “Think ambient, freestyle, jazzy groove, with guitar, bass, drums, trumpet, percussion and psychedelic lights.”

Following King Brand Valium’s live sets, resident DJs included Douglas Carter, Vasi Medley and Christian Newhook (a.k.a. Dinamo Azari of Azari & III). Other DJs, like Cristiano, Mark Oliver, John E, and Kenny Glasgow also played, which meant Salon 817’s crowds ranged from rocker to raver.

“People were black, white, gay, straight, all over the map,” describes Billy. “It was a real microcosm of the Toronto party scene.

“Mick Jagger and Jerry Hall were in on the same night as Kim Mitchell and his wife. I saw them introducing their wives to each other. Jeff Healey came by all the time. Oasis was in a couple of times, Backstreet Boys, so many people. Tie Domi, Mats Sundin, and other Maple Leafs came out, as did other athletes, and people from CityTV—both Georges [Stroumboulopoulos and Lagogianes] were there a lot. It was the place to be on a Tuesday so you’d get everyone.”

Gypsy Co-op attracted an impressive range of celebs, from actors including Mira Sorvino. Dan Aykroyd, and Michael Imperioli to other musicians like Lenny Kravitz, Robbie Robertson, David Bowie, Tommy Lee, Charlie Watts, and drum ‘n’ bass star Goldie.

Theresa Szalay (centre) with Gypsy Co-op staff members Kim-Ella and Leah. Photo courtesy of Szalay.

Theresa Szalay recalls a sleepy Monday evening on Victoria Day weekend 2001. It started with a skeletal staff and ended in surprise.

“There were four customers in the whole place and the street was empty, so at 11 p.m. I decided to close. As waiter Tom Malloy was closing the front curtain he noticed a girl run up to the door. He called to me, ‘Kate Hudson is knocking, and wants to come in.’ She said she had some friends in the car, they wanted to come in for a drink, and asked if we could keep the doors locked. They had their own security. I told the bar to re-open, and a few minutes later in walked Kate Hudson with her then-husband Chris Robinson, and all his bandmates from The Black Crowes, plus the bands Oasis and Spacehog, Liv Tyler, and Oasis’ manager. Voila, we had a private party!

“Liam Gallagher wanted to play some Beatles and old rock so off he went, messing with our already temperamental mixing board. It was loud and sounded awful. I called our in-house DJ and waiter extraordinaire, Kevin Lee, because it was midnight on a holiday Monday and he lived right down the street. Fifteen minutes later, Kevin showed up with lots of vinyl, and the night continued. They were all very appreciative for the hospitality, paid their very large bill, and tipped everyone well. They also gave me six tickets—awesome seats—for their concert the next night.” [Note: Another Gypsy DJ, Jorge Dacosta, recalls that it was, in fact, he who played tunes at this private party. His comment is below.]

There’s no shortage of Gypsy-related celebrity stories, but it was the many hundreds of devoted regulars who allowed the venue to thrive for more than a decade. Gypsy Co-op’s emphasis on interesting music was a big part of why they were there.

“We did everything from klezmer to mariachi, Middle Eastern, Cuban, swing, blues, reggae, soul, house, hip-hop, electronic, funk, rock and grunge,” says Mike Borg. “I was tired of the mainstream, and believed many of our guests and staff were as well.“

He recalls booking bands like Professor Plum (“an ambient acoustic trio”), Anti Gravity Janitors (“space-trance funk”), and Codex (“trip-hop ambient dub)” alongside DJs on Thursdays and Fridays. Hogtown Hep Cats hosted a long-running swing dance weekly. Saturday evenings boasted a rotating cast of top local DJs, including Vania, Gio, DJ Colin, JC and Bristol, England native Lee Castle a.k.a. DJ/producer Sassa’le, former CKLN radio host and founder of Version Xcursion.

Coverage of Gypsy Co-op’s 3rd anniversary in NOW Magazine, December 1998. Image courtesy of Mike Borg.

“The wide collection of DJs who played all kinds of music made Gypsy different,” says Castle. “It was about like-minded people having a great time, and DJs keeping their ear to the ground. The owners played a big part by giving DJs creative freedom, and being open to new ideas.”

Castle’s signature blend of trip-hop, breaks, dub, and all forms of UK bass music was also heard when he guested at my own long-running event, Glide Wednesdays.

Launched in January 1997 and running for almost seven full years, Glide was a hotbed of underground electronic sounds not often heard in club settings, from dub to soulful drum ‘n’ bass. The complementary Break Fu weekly—with bass-loving tech heads Aria, Jarkko, and Transformer—ran upstairs for some time, while downstairs, I booked a wide range of local guest DJs, like Paul E. Lopes, Moonstarr, and Chocolate.

With the Borgs’ support, I was also able to present early appearances by the likes of Portishead DJ Andy Smith, L.A. beat experimentalist The Angel, innovative British producer Andrea Parker (on her DJ Kicks tour), and Bristol-based Cup Of Tea artists like Purple Penguin and Jaz Klash (Rob Smith of Smith & Mighty with Peter D and The Angel).

“It was personal for me to see DJs from my hometown come over and smash it,” says Sassa’le, who also recalls the Wednesday night another famous Bristolian caused a stir.

“Roni Size was at the venue, just chilling, and walked over to ask a question. The guy next to me couldn’t believe it and started freaking out,” says Castle, who has continued to DJ and produce (his latest album, SystemEcho, was released recently).

Collection of Glide Wednesdays flyers. Courtesy of Denise Benson.

In early 2000, the Glide vibe was expanded upon when I invited talented DJ and kindred musical spirit Andrew ‘Allsgood’ Puusa to join me full-time. It was his first club residency.

“I think what made Glide an amazing night was adventurous programming,” says Puusa. “We had a strong lean towards sounds that were on the fringes of electronic and dance music, and didn’t have much of a voice in Toronto. Downtempo, left-field hip-hop, nu-jazz, broken beat, and future soul were all championed, along with deep house and dub, from roots to modern.” (He now releases re-edits with Alister Johnson on their Free Association label.)

It was Glide’s lean towards dub and its many modern-day offshoots that attracted regulars like James and Graeme Moore, the bassist and guitarist, respectively, in dub band Resinators.

“No one was spinning anything except what they wanted to,” recounts James Moore of Glide. “The uncompromising quality was exactly what made it special. The music was new, and we talked about it a lot. The crowd was a who’s who of Toronto music heads—musicians, radio and club DJs. The scene was very open and accepting. It was an absolute must-attend for years.

“Glide was also a place out-of-town DJs were welcomed. We knew their music, and they could count on an appreciative audience, with lots of tolerance for offbeat, weird stuff.”

As evidence, Glide’s five-year anniversary was marked by sold-out appearances by both Netherlands-based Twilight Circus Dub Sound System and, two weeks later, Manitoba (now known as Caribou) who performed his first live P.A. in Toronto. British producers Bonobo and Mark Rae also guested, as did NYC’s Nickodemus and, in 2003, we marked six years with a two-floor lineup featuring Akufen, Mike Shannon, Deadbeat and Tim Hecker. Those were heady times.

Resinators also added much bass to the mix over a series of live dates.

“When Resinators started our weekly dub residency upstairs, it was great synergy,” says James. “We would pack that little room with as much gear as it could handle. One night surprise guest Glen Washington sat in on drums, bass, and vocals. It was common to see talents like Esthero and LAL, among up-and-comers. It was the start of the ‘open mic’ Resinators’ sessions where we honed our classics with guest vocalists.”

Also significant were Thursday nights at Gypsy, when the live hip-hop showcase In Divine Style reigned supreme upstairs in The Hooch. Launched in January of 2001 by Ryan Somers a.k.a. Fritz tha Cat, former rap editor for Vice magazine, the pioneering event was an extension of Somers’ In Search of . . . Divine Styler ‘zine (later, a related book), and was especially infamous for its open mic segment.

“We generally presented a night with three to five main performers, and then an open mic freestyle segment that featured anywhere up to 25 MCs, singers, performers, comedians, and poets,” explains Addi Stewart, a.k.a. Mindbender, an original host of the night who later took over organizing duties.

“The goal was to give artists a venue, an audience, and a chance to perform when there was barely any other opportunities or spaces to do so.”

Key contributors to In Divine Style included engineer/soundman DJ Dorc, doorwoman and host Alexis, DJ and MC More or Les, and other DJs including Todd Skimmins, Vangel, Danimal, Druncnes Monstr, Son of S.O.U.L., Mel Boogie, and EfSharp. The monthly SheStyle sessions featured DJs including Dalia and Tashish, and heavy-hitting host MCs like Eternia and Sunny D. Art by the likes of Elicsr and EGR was on display while bboys and bgirls added to the IDS energy.

More or Les (left) hosts In Divine Style. Photo: Richard Lautens/Toronto Star.

Stewart says that “approximately 636 MCs came through,” a mix of local, national and international talents. Now familiar names like Ian Kamau, Brassmunk, Tara Chase, Masia One, Graph Nobel, Aysicks, Dope Poets Society, and Theology 3 were among them. He makes mention of wordsmiths like Chuggo (“the electric essence of what KOTD battle rap has become today); Travis Blackman (“a room-silencing superhuman vocalist and eye-expanding performer); and an 18-year-old Isis, later of Thunderheist, who made her club debut at IDS (“she ripped the mic insanely!”).

Until it ended in January of 2006, after running as a monthly during its last year, In Divine Style played a crucial role in nurturing Toronto’s hip-hop talent and community. It put performers in front of caring, often capacity, crowds.

“Friends felt like family,” describes Stewart. “People sold, traded, and bought each other’s CDs, we had themed nights, and a very special warm and fuzzy connection between heads in a hip-hop era that honestly does not exist in this day and age. There was no internet, so you had to be there to hear what people said and did every week.

“Second-hand stories were not enough; it was about being present and participating in the culture. It was really a place filled with love for hip-hop lyrics. MCs had to come with some good rhymes. People never get booed off stage for being average, but the most applause would go to the best mic rockers. In Divine Style was the perfect place for an aspiring MC to lose their stage virginity!” (As evidence, dozens of IDS performances were archived and can still be enjoyed online.)

Who else played / worked there: It’s impossible to list all of the DJs who played at Gypsy over time, but other familiar names from the venues’ earlier years include DJ Martini, Peace Harvest, James St. Bass, Fish Fry, Dave Cooper, Jason Palma, and Sam ‘EfSharp’ Fleming. Fleming promoted the Word Is Mightier weekly while also working as a cook and arts curator at the Co-op.

The kitchen and bar staff was, of course, essential to Gypsy’s function and team spirit. Chefs included Andrew Underwood, Laura White and Chris Thomas, with support from spirited kitchen staff including Kristine Catignas, Amber Husband, and Kim-Ella Hunter. Among the bar and wait staff were musicians like Miles Roberts and Steve Singh. City councillor Michelle Berardinetti once worked there, as did Jill Dickson (later co-owner of Watusi) and the late, lovely Jenna Morrison.

Even Gypsy’s team of managers—including Dave Clarke, Clay Hunter and Salvatore Natale—was a cast of characters.

Salvatore Natale in the Gypsy Co-op office. Photo courtesy of Mike Borg.

“Staff was one of our biggest assets,” emphasizes Joseph Borg. “They needed to have a smooth personality, be a little unusual, and accepting of all people. They had to be able to deliver a professional experience to our guests, without looking the part.”

Bartender Andrew Dmytrasz refers to the waiter named Ron to illustrate this point.

“One night, when the dining room was packed, he puts a tray with a single pint of beer on his head, and walks ever so slowly and carefully to deliver it. The entire dining room stopped eating, watched him and erupted into applause. That was the kind of fun that Gypsy was all about. It wasn’t just, ‘Give me my drinks and food, and we’re out of here.’ To this day, it’s my favourite place to have worked.” (Dmytrasz would later open Mississauga resto-lounge The Enfield Fox with Sal Natale and Joseph Borg, and now works for Epic Cruises.)

“I think Gypsy was truly a ‘co-op’ of artists and creators who could showcase themselves and share talents in one space,” states Szalay. “There was always so much going on, and it changed all the time.” (Szalay is now mother to a young daughter, and has developed a line of body care products called Olive Tree Organics.)

Perhaps the biggest change of all at Gypsy Co-op came in 2003, when a new chapter began.

“Mike had gone to start his new life in British Columbia, so the last while was not the same,” explains Joseph Borg. “Part of the soul of Gypsy had left.”

In spring of 2003, Gypsy Co-op was sold to 27-year-old entrepreneur and event promoter Ismael ‘Izzy’ Shqueir, along with friend Devin Thomas and other partners.

Dolores and Shingo Shimizu with Gani Shqueir (right). Photo courtesy of Izzy Shqueir.

Shqueir is familiar to many as the co-founder of milk. events, which launched in 1996 as a small party in Kensington Market, and grew to become one of the biggest and most distinctive party brands in town. Izzy, along with brother Gani Shqueir and DJ partner Felix Bianchini, had produced big shows in venues like Roxy Blu, Turbo, and The Warehouse. They also presented artists including Perry Farrell, Dimitri From Paris, and Jazzanova at the Borgs’ Fez Batik. As a result, Shqueir was brought in to program and market events at Gypsy, and was then a natural candidate to lead the venue’s next chapter.

“The feeling was that Izzy had brought much to the Gypsy, and would be able to provide a new heart and soul to allow it to grow into a new decade,” says Joseph Borg.

“The brilliant thing that separated Gypsy Co-op from other establishments was its warm, welcoming and laid-back style,” reflects Shqueir. “Gypsy never set out to be a slick bar or fancy restaurant—not when it started or after I took over.”

Shqueir worked to maintain Gypsy’s formula, food quality, and aesthetic while providing much-needed upgrades to the kitchen, washrooms, and sound system.

“We were careful to try and preserve the old magic as much as possible,” he states. “I think my contribution tied Gypsy back into the changing trends—musically and food-wise. With music as my forte, we brought through an array of talent, ranging from locals like Fritz Helder & The Phantoms to iconic producers like Prince Paul.”

Izzy describes the music programming as “a little more street level,” as he, Gani, and Felix maintained an eclectic mix, with added emphasis on hip-hop, house, and electronics.

DJs John Kong (left) and Dirty Dale at Gypsy. Photo courtesy of Izzy Shqueir.

The Hot Stepper crew produced occasional events, as did techno-loving brothers Zeeshan and Osman, then owners of nearby clothing shop, Reset. Mira Aroyo of Ladytron came in for a DJ set, bands including God Made Me Funky performed, and Sunday nights were revamped to feature belly dancers and live traditional Arabic music.

Hip-hop heads had a lot to enjoy. Not only did In Divine Style continue on Thursdays, but DJs Numeric, Dalia, and More or Les presented their classic hip-hop monthly Never Forgive Action on Fridays for well over a year, while the New Kicks night brought beats and breakdancers to Wednesdays for three years.

Initially held down by DJs Fathom and 2-Swift Household, New Kicks was hosted by beloved b-boy Benzo, of Bag of Trix. Eventually, DJ Serious joined Fathom in blending funk, breaks and hip-hop on three turntables and two mixers.

“New Kicks became the central night for local breakers and our neighbours,” says Shqueir. “Fathom and Serious are such versatile guys, and rocked the lounge all night long.”

At the New Kicks weekly. Photo by Zach Slootsky.

What happened to it: “Given that Gypsy had been successfully operating for many years, the building and its structure were becoming severely worn,” Shqueir recalls, citing major electrical and plumbing issues among other pressing needs.

“After it became clear that further renos were needed to keep the business competitive, things became tough. Trends jumped our strip of Queen West and ignited around The Drake. Negotiations with the landlord to secure a solid, win-win, long-term deal weren’t successful. At that point, we cut our losses. We had enough to pay our staff and small suppliers, so we folded and left.”

Gypsy Co-op’s doors were locked on December 28, 2006. Shqueir feels that its influence lives on.

“Other venues since have carried on the supper-club concept,” he begins. “They have been larger, they have been louder, and they been successful, but they haven’t captured the magic [of] Gypsy Co-op. The mélange of people from different creative scenes and age groups is not something I’ve seen naturally occur since.

“Venues like The Drake, Ultra, and Brant House all followed the same format successfully, within their own niches, but none have done it with the old-school method of two turntables and a promoter. Gypsy launched with a certain momentum, reputation, and street credibility. It’s the perfect sweet spot every business owner hopes to achieve.”

Post-Gypsy, Shqueir pursued his “childhood dream of driving trains,” and has trained with Bombardier for the past five years, working towards a locomotive engineer certificate. He is also a licensed mortgage agent. Gani and Felix continue to produce events under the milk. banner.

Mike Borg lives in Kelowna, B.C., where he owns and operates 250-seat restaurant and lounge, Cabana Grille. He’s also a partner, with Joseph Borg and others, in Pegasus Hospitality Group, which operates venues including Palais Royale, Casa Loma, and The Grand Luxe.

817 Queen West is now home to The Dog’s Bollocks sports pub.

Thank you to participants Addi ‘Mindbender’ Stewart, Andrew Dmytrasz, Andrew Puusa, Billy X, Gio Cristiano, Izzy Shqueir, James Moore, Joseph Borg, Lee Castle, Mike Borg, Theresa Szalay, and Vania, as well as to David ‘Fathom’ Mussio, Noel Dix, Sam ‘EfSharp’ Fleming, Thomas Quinlan.

The post Then & Now: Gypsy Co-op 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 January 28, 2013 by The Grid online (thegridto.com).

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

BY: DENISE BENSON

Club: Stilife, 217 Richmond W.

Years in operation: 1987–1995

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Stilife interior. Photo courtesy of INK Entertainment.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Stilife bar. Photo courtesy of INK Entertainment.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Resident DJ JC Sunshine. Photo courtesy of him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Stilife entry. Photo courtesy of INK Entertainment.

Stilife soon gained a reputation as a celebrity hangout.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

BY: DENISE BENSON

Club: Komrads, 1 Isabella St.

Years in operation: 1985-1991

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Komrads shiny dancefloor. Photo courtesy of Shawn Riker.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Komrads matches. Photo courtesy of Andrew Boyd.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bronski Beat ticket courtesy of Andrew Boyd.

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

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

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

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

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

Poster courtesy of Stephanie Stephens.

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

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

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

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

Doorman Fichna recounts a favourite memory.

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

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

Packed dancefloors. Photos courtesy of Shawn Riker.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Article originally published by The Grid online (The GridTO.com) on May 24, 2012.

In the early ‘90s, alternative rock was exploding overground, with the rave scene coming up right behind it. This beloved Adelaide Street club bridged these two movements together in a legitimate, licensed space.

BY: DENISE BENSON

Club: Catch 22 Niteclub, 379 Adelaide W.

Years in operation: 1989-1997

History: While a five-year-lifespan tends to be a decent run for nightclubs in this city, some strike a nerve and manage to go it longer, thanks to an ever-evolving community of supporters. Catch 22 was such a venue.

Located on Adelaide near the corner of Spadina, Catch was slightly off the beaten path as it lay on the edges of the then-developing club district and was a few minutes’ walk south from Queen West. It was opened in November of 1989 by a group of friends—with Pat Violo, Lex van Erem, and Gio Cristiano at the core—in a former storage space on the building’s lowest level.

Photo courtesy of Andy Gfy.

“Lex van Erem had the space and wanted to build a restaurant, but I convinced him it wasn’t a good idea because of its location,” recalls Violo, who had been a manager at RPM nightclub. “I told him it best suited a nightclub. He liked the idea and asked me to be his partner.

“The original idea was to open a club that played only alternative music, and looked very underground. We wanted the music to be the focal point, and it was inspired by CFNY’s format.”

“We wanted to do something that Toronto was missing at that time,” adds Cristiano, a.k.a. DJ Gio. “Klub Domino was gone, Nuts & Bolts was gone, The Silver Crown was gone, so there wasn’t any more really cool alternative places. Thus, Catch 22 was born. We had our own style, and went from punk to techno, from rock to ska.”

Artist and star Catch bartender Suzette Cooper. Photo courtesy of Andy Gfy.

Inspired by the open approach of revered alt club Nuts & Bolts, which had closed just the year before, Catch 22 had a similarly industrial feel. Customers entered through a steel door—having first passed by a painted mural of the Silver Surfer and a street-level caged window sometimes occupied by go-go dancers—and walked down into a mid-sized, L-shaped room. The long, concrete bar boasted a mosaic glass counter created by artist and star Catch bartender Suzette Cooper while the club itself was adorned in sheet-metal designs. This was the epitome of 1990s alternative chic, made more comfortable by seating areas, a pool table, and Catch 22’s notoriously friendly staff.

Front area of Catch 22. Photo courtesy of Andy Gfy.

The club’s raised DJ booth and shiny, slippery stainless steel dancefloor—which, contrary to rumour, did not come from Nuts & Bolts—were focal points and its sound was crisp.

“The sound kicked ass and was specially designed for the place,” emphasizes Cristiano. “The lighting was crazy as well. I remember we had this robotic piece right in the middle of the dancefloor that would go up and down, and move side to side. It looked like the planet Saturn.”

Catch 22 dancefloor. Photo courtesy of Andy Gfy.

 Why it was important: A decidedly underground dance club, Catch 22 was both influential and welcoming. A progressive approach to music programming lay at its core and, as a result, the crowds who came out were open-minded.

“Catch was full of people who were into alternative music—not goths, not rockers, but people who lay somewhere in the middle,” says Andy Gfy, an early Catch 22 customer who became one of its key staff, serving as doorman, bartender or Mr. Fixit as required. “The people who came to Catch came to dance. The crowd was no attitude; I never heard anyone making fun or teasing. Catch 22, to me, was a bunch of black sheep herded together.”

Andy Gfy (left) with Rob the lighting guy. Photo courtesy of Gfy.

Early on, the club’s programming included a punk Wednesday hosted and DJed by CIUT’s Mopa Dean, also the lead singer of the band Armed and Hammered, who frequently performed. The night later gave way to a long-running alt and industrial night DJed by Rono Box and hosted by Andy Gfy.

DJ Gio held down Fridays and Saturdays for some time. A popular and diverse DJ who also came to be known for his nights at The Phoenix and Klub Max, Cristiano had his ear to the ground. He and DJ Hanna epitomized the Catch approach with their Hell’s Kitchen Fridays.

“Musically, we covered a lot of ground, from psychedelic stuff to big beat, techno, jungle, grunge, alternative—anything and everything that was not getting played on the radio except for some stuff being played on 102.1 [a.k.a. CFNY],” says Cristiano.

Full disclosure: I took over Fridays from Cristiano and crew in October of 1993, when I launched and DJed the mixed queer alt night BENT, which ran for almost two years. I appreciate the men of Catch 22 to this day for their support of my programming ideas, which ranged from live bands to cabarets, leather parties to film-fest gatherings, queer community fundraisers and loads more.

The fashions at Catch 22 were varied. Photo courtesy of Andy Gfy.

But the DJ who is most strongly associated with Catch 22’s early years and success is one Craig Beesack, a gifted club jock who would also become a beloved CFNY host. Beesack started off as the Thursday-night resident, working with infamous promoter Billy X, and was moved to Saturday nights in 1990. Cristiano had caught word that Beesack would soon host the program Warming Up the House on CFNY early Saturday eves—directly before Chris Sheppard’s infamous Club 102 live-to-air—and so the DJ would run from radio station to nightclub. He brought a sizable audience with him.

“That’s when the magic really started,” says Cristiano. “We got so slammed on Saturday nights. Mr. Beesack and his crew really made that place the best alternative the city had seen in a long time. I have so much respect for the guy. Craig played stuff from 1000 Homo DJs to Metallica, Testone to Bodycount, Stereo MCs and Nine Inch Nails. Everything was perfectly formatted and beat-mixed, if you can believe that.”

“Beesack was the man!” agrees Don Berns, who was then CFNY’s Program Director. “Craig was a totally unique DJ who combined industrial and heavier four-on-the-floor techno into a seamless mix that gave his night at Catch a unique flavor, and also made it very different from his weekly alt-rock night at The Cotton Club in Markham. His knowledge of the music, selection, and skills in playing it were the reasons I hired him to create Warming Up The House.

“I’m not a club person and have never enjoyed hanging out—except at Catch,” adds Berns, now an actor who also spins occasionally under his rave name of Dr. Trance. “Something about the underground vibe and the people there resonated with me. Catch 22 was the only club that had the vibe of a couple of underground NYC clubs I’d been to in the ’70s: dark, loud, cool people, cooler music.

“My friend Martin and I got into a pretty regular routine in 1990-91: spend Saturday night at Catch and then go to 23 Hop to continue the party with the Exodus boys. Once the raves got into high gear and we both joined the Nitrous crew, we eventually drifted away from that routine. But for nine months or so, Catch was an integral part of my social life. I would always discover interesting new music when Beesack was on the decks.” (Unfortunately, no one I interviewed for this story had a current contact for Craig Beesack and, as such, he could not be reached for comment.)

There was, in fact, a very pronounced overlap between some early 1990s alternative clubs in Toronto and the roots of what would become our massive rave scene. Catch 22 played an integral role, not only with the music its DJs played, but also by hosting electronic-music events that ran Saturday afterhours through to Sunday night.

Iain McPherson a.k.a. the pioneering DJ Iain who held residencies at clubs like Nuts & Bolts, OZ, and Limelight, and was a founder of the original Nitrous rave crew—initially came to Catch as a Saturday late-night rave DJ. He became the main Saturday club resident for most of 1993, playing a mix of alt, industrial, and new electronic dance music alongside friend and innovative DJ James Kekanovich.

“I think it was only natural that the early edgy production styles of rave music would find a sympathetic ear in the more open-minded audiences of alternative music,” says McPherson. “Despite its up-tempo disco underpinnings, the soundscapes of early rave screamed ‘Pay attention to me! I’m new, adventurous and often aggressive!’ How perfect for alternative crowds.”

Chris Twomey (left) with UK junglists DJ Kenny Ken and MC Fearless. Photo courtesy of Mary Ireton and Joan Tulloch.

Not only did Catch 22 help introduce club-goers to new forms of electronic dance music—especially breaks, drum ‘n’ bass and techno—it also provided a licensed, stable space for raves when the scene was in its infancy.

Mary Ireton and Joan Tulloch were both familiar faces at Catch. Ireton had worked at Cotton Club with Craig Beesack and followed him downtown to work as a Catch 22 bartender. Tulloch, a fan of industrial music, was a Catch customer from its first week.

They were the force behind a number of Saturday afterhours at Catch “on weekends when there were no raves,” Ireton and Tulloch tell me collectively by email. “There was only a rave every six weeks back then. No club or bar was playing rave music, and they were not willing to give up a weekend night, since they thought there would be no drinkers.”

Mary Ireton and Joan Tulloch. Photo courtesy of them.

DJ Mark Oliver (left) and friend at Majic Mondays. Photo courtesy of Andy Gfy.

The two were given Mondays at Catch 22. Majic Mondays were truly that, from the time they opened in September 1993 until the club’s closing in 1997. DJs Mark Oliver and Dr. No were the first to spin, but the line-up was different each week. Diverse local rave and EDM bricklayers like John E, Algorithm, James St. Bass, Tim Patrick, Mystical, Medicine Muffin, Terry Kelly, and Czech played alongside international guests who’d stayed in town after a weekend gig, including Mike Huckaby, Kenny Ken, Ellis Dee, L Double, and John ‘00’ Fleming.

“Majic Mondays was a gathering of music lovers of vast tastes and a wide range of ages,” share Ireton and Tulloch. “There was a community of people—all open to these new styles of electronic music. We were unique in that we didn’t just play one sound and Catch 22 was a unique venue for this music as it actually had a bathroom and running water—much more civilized than the warehouses that were being used for some of the raves!”

A collage of Majic Mondays flyers. Photo courtesy of Mary Ireton and Joan Tulloch.

DJs who appeared at Majic Mondays. Photo courtesy of Mary Ireton and Joan Tulloch.

Who else played/worked there: Catch 22 was home to a few generations of local alt DJs who would go on to break new music and set the pace wherever they played.

“The DJs that came through Catch were some of the most influential in Toronto’s alternative scene,” agrees Mike Mckinlay a.k.a. DJ Michael X, who played a mix of industrial, goth, new wave, new rock, and Britpop at his X-Isle Thursdays and Rip Rig and Panic Saturdays.

“Craig Beesak, DJ Iain, Rono Box, DJ Jürgen, Die J Mars—all of these guys were changing the music scene and upshot the levels of what was happening in the clubs. Catch was one step for them in their evolutions. The club kept their customers happy by always looking for something new or different.”

Die J Mars in the DJ booth. Photo courtesy of Andy Gfy.

DJ Jeff Caldwell

DJ Jürgen held down Industrial Strength Thursdays with the late Martin Streek, and then on his own, after Mckinlay’s X-Isle concluded. Mars—a Catch Friday resident after me—moved to New York and developed an impressive career as DJ, producer, remixer, and fashionista. Jeff Caldwell a.k.a. Jeff C was a much-loved Saturday resident later in Catch 22’s history, while many other top alt locals, including Shawn Macdonald, DJ Shannon, DJ Dwight, and Paul Dhingra all made good use of the Catch booth.

Martin Streek (left) and friends at Catch 22. Photo courtesy of Andy Gfy.

“You see, everybody wanted to be a part of that place,” states Gio Cristiano. “We had no problem finding talent. Everybody did it for the music and to give back to the scene. To this day, I really respect everything that everybody did at Catch; everybody was so different, but so, so good.”

“I remember walking in to Catch and finding guys like Marilyn Manson, Trent Reznor, and Pop Will Eat Itself in there,” he adds. “Also, many members of Cirque de Soleil when they did their first show in T.O. They hung out because they loved our bar and staff, especially Suzette. She was the best bartender in the city at that time.”

“Catch 22’s bar and door staff were legendary and wonderful,” adds McPherson. “The place had a lovely, comfortable, community vibe to it.”

Paul, a.k.a. Rave Master. Photo courtesy of Andy Gfy.

Like many I spoke with, McPherson’s former DJ partner James Kekanovich makes special mention of Catch 22’s venerable doorman Paul a.k.a. Rave Master.

“Paul was the first touch point when entering the club, and his understanding of the scene being created there was an essential component to the experience. He was a familiar face and really knew the crowd.”

Staff would have to contend with only one big recurring problem.

“The dancefloor would go out of control when Ministry came on,” recalls Andy Gfy. “People just flew everywhere. Pat used to freak out about all the broken glass; the floor was covered in it. Eventually, it was decided that we couldn’t play Ministry or Rage Against the Machine between 12:30 and 1 a.m. [then last call in bars].”

Flyer for the final event, courtesy of Christy Washer.

What happened to it: In 1997, Catch 22’s owners found that the building’s landlord would not renew the lease. The club closed with a bash on May 31. 379 Adelaide West was soon renovated into the office building that exists today.

379 Adelaide St. W., as it appears today.

Pat Violo, in association with Liberty Group, opened infamous live-music bar and alternative dance club Velvet Underground at 510 Queen St. W. Many Catch 22 alumni can be found there, including Andy Gfy on bar and Paul a.k.a. Rave Master at the door.

There was a Catch 22 reunion party held last year, with DJs Mars, Jürgen and Jeff C, with talk of future events. A related Facebook group keeps the Catch community connected.

Thank-you to all those interviewed, as well as to Christy Washer and Tim Barraball for their contributions.

The post Then & Now: Catch 22 appeared first on Then and Now: Toronto Nightlife History.

Article originally published May 10, 2012 by The Grid online (TheGridTO.com).

This late-’90s venture by the party-starting Sbrocchi and Assoon brothers became the favourite Sunday night spot for a mature crowd of dedicated house heads. It was so beloved, some called it the Toronto house scene’s version of Cheers.

BY: DENISE BENSON

Club: The Living Room, 330 Adelaide St. W.

Years in operation: 1997-2002

History: Though it may be difficult to imagine, just 15 years ago, Toronto’s Entertainment District still had some semblance of cool. It hadn’t yet become overrun with copycat venues, fall-over-drunk partiers, and frustrated residents, while the mad condo-fication we see today hadn’t fully taken hold. There remained a whiff of possibility in the area for those who wanted to open music-minded social spots.

Into this epicentre returned the brothers Assoon. In 1980—when the area was decidedly non-residential and still touted as the Garment District—Albert, Tony, Michael and David Assoon (and partners) opened Twilight Zone on Richmond near Simcoe. The deeply influential after-hours dance club ran until 1989.

Eight years later, Albert and Michael partnered with Anthony Formusa and brothers Tony and Johnny Sbrocchi to open a vastly different venture in a two-storey, Art Deco-style warehouse building near the corner of Peter and Adelaide. It had been home to the Sbrocchis’ fine-dining restaurant Ola, but that hadn’t taken off.

Conversations between Tony and Albert, who’d followed The Twilight Zone by opening the infamous Fresh nightclub at 132 Queen’s Quay E. and later worked for The Guvernment at that same address, led to the development of a new venue. The Living Room opened at 330 Adelaide St. W. in November of 1997, with Albert and Michael Assoon at the creative helm.

DJ Andy Roberts (left), DJ Nicole, and Albert Assoon. Photo courtesy of Pat Boogie.

“Our inspiration was always house music, and we noticed that it had moved to a different level [in Toronto],” says Michael. “We thought it would be a good time to bring back some of the magic that we had from The Twilight Zone.”

“The Assoons were already legends in their own right, as they were a true party family,” confirms infamous social queen Jennstar, who worked at clubs including Industry before joining The Living Room’s Sunday team. “I think that being back in the district, close to where the original Zone had been, gave the venue some energy. There were a lot of good vibes there.”

Inspired by its Miami namesake, which Albert had visited and been impressed by, The Living Room was intended to be a mature, versatile lounge and dance club.

“We envisioned it to have the comforts of a living room, with lots of couches and art and curtains,” Michael recalls. “I took on the responsibility of the layout, the colors and the logo. Albert and our brother Tony upgraded the sound system.”

Originally licensed for 250 people, but soon increased to 400 after minor renovations, The Living Room’s three rooms paired comfort with a large hardwood dancefloor and clear, booming sound.

“The first DJ booth was in the washroom, with a hole cut into the wall that faced out onto the dancefloor,” shares Andy Roberts, a DJ whose name became synonymous with the club’s Sunday nights. “Eventually a proper DJ booth was built, with a RANE MP2016A and crossover. The sound was exceptional if you didn’t over do it.

“The atmosphere was cozy,” he continues. “It didn’t feel like a medium-sized club; it literally felt like you were at home, and we were having a house party every week.”

Andy Roberts in The Living Room’s DJ booth. Photo courtesy of Pat Boogie.

Why it was important: Opened a year after Industry and a year before Roxy Blu, The Living Room drew a related clientele, as all three clubs nurtured and hosted Toronto’s underground house movement of the time. The more intimate Living Room was unique in that it attracted a slightly older crowd.

“There were no other venues in the city that offered lounging and dining as we did when we started out,” says Albert Assoon. “There were not many chic lounges like The Living Room that also had the casual attitude we offered as place to dance and have a good time. It was an easygoing, fun place to party at.

“The varied signature nights we had also meant there was something for everybody; we definitely were a non-commercial venue that attracted a mature clientele.”

Initially open only on weekends, the venue began with David Assoon and Nathaniel Garcia promoting Fridays, with a young jojoflores in from Montreal to spin R&B and classic house. Albert, who DJs as Phat Albert, was Saturday’s musical mastermind, and brought blends of soulful house to the tables for more than two years.

“We booked guests like Kenny Carpenter, the original DJ from Studio 54 who also worked under Larry Levan at Paradise Garage,” says Albert. “We’d often brought him in to the Twilight Zone, and he was the top international DJ to promote our Living Room Saturdays.”

There were a number of musically-themed nights at the club over the years, but The Living Room will always be thought of as the home to Hard & Soul Sundays, arguably Toronto’s longest-running underground house weekly. This city’s house heads had already shown they would support on Sundays, having packed Thundergroove at OZ throughout the mid-’90s, and Mark Oliver’s Sunday weekly at Velvet. Oliver was, in fact, an original resident DJ at Hard & Soul when it opened in December of 1997. He and Andy Roberts played as co-residents for months, with DJ Everdelicious Nicole the next to be hired as Roberts’ co-resident.

The night’s original promoter was Gairy Brown a.k.a. Gigi, then also a waiter at The Living Room and now the Executive Director at gay event production company Prism. It was Brown who named the night, grabbing the title from Danny Tenaglia’s 1995 album. Promoter/hosts including Jennstarr, the roller-skating Big Daddy a.k.a. Roman Steel, and Megan McMullen-DeGennaro joined Brown in building a loyal following for Hard & Soul.

Packed dancefloor for The Living Room’s Angel Moraes event. Photo courtesy of Pat Boogie.

“The Sundays became a signature house night in Toronto,” says Albert Assoon. “It was definitely underground, deep, soulful house music that Andy and Nicole played. Generally, 300 to 500 people would come out, and on long weekends they would boost up to 800.”

“Since it was a weekly residency, we were able to introduce new music, and develop what would become a sound unique to Hard & Soul,” says Roberts, who also played a variety of nights at clubs including Mad Bar, Apothecary and Element Bar during his Hard & Soul run.

“The main reason the night thrived, in my opinion, is because Tony Sbrocchi kept it going even though we were pretty slow in the beginning. Most owners these days only give promoters a couple of weeks. Oddly enough, when we first started getting busy on a weekly basis, most of the crowd was coming from the Comfort Zone.”

That said, a lot of the international guests at Hard & Soul—like Sneak, Cajmere, DJ Heather, Mark Farina, Honey Dijon, and J-Dub—had strong ties to Industry, often playing there on a Saturday and The Living Room the next night. People like Jennstar frequented and worked at both venues.

“Andy was the reason I wanted to be involved at Hard & Soul,” says Jennstar, who co-promoted and hosted for two years. “He always had his unique sound. No one was doing Sunday parties at the time, and it was a great night of people who worked in the scene, people who were in the know about music, and those who generally had their finger on the pulse. There was always lots of fun people—gay, straight, all races, and of various ages—cheering and having a great time to great music.”

Roberts attributes the mix of people to the night’s broad range of house, moving from deep to disco, garage and gospel house to funky Chicago sounds. He recalls being an early champion of house tracks that became huge club anthems, citing Armand Van Helden’s “Flowers,” Stardust’s “Music Sounds Better with You,” and “Big Love” by Pete Heller as examples.

Promoter Pat Boogie, a devoted house head who’d long been a regular at the night before he joined the Hard & Soul team in 1999, adds to the musical memories.

“Andy really developed a distinct sound, and had a bunch of anthems,” he says. “A couple of my favorites were DJ Gregory’s “Block Party,” and the absolute number one Hard & Soul anthem, Jasper Street Company’s “God Helps Those (Who Help Themselves.” People would lose their minds when he dropped this gospel house floor stomper!

“I still get goose bumps when I hear the song because it brings back memories of Andy in the booth with his hands in the air, and everyone on the dancefloor singing at the top of their lungs, stomping their feet and clapping their hands. The staff would join in too, bartenders would get on top of the bar and bar backs and security would join everyone on the dance floor. That’s what I loved most about The Living Room: it was a like a family of real characters; everyone got along and helped with the success of the venue. It was like the Toronto house scene’s version of Cheers.”

DJ Andy Roberts and promoter Pat Boogie. Photo courtesy of Boogie.

Boogie, who has since worked for companies including Most Wanted Entertainment, CiRCA Nightclub, and his own Boogie Inc. production company, speaks lovingly of The Living Room and Hard & Soul Sundays, later sub-titled ‘Sunday Religion.’

He tells me about other DJs who graced the booth, like Luc Raymond, Fred Everything, Alton Miller, DJ Deep, and an impressive array of locals including The Stickmen, Nick Holder, Mitch Winthrop, Shawn Riker, Allen Best, Kenny Glasgow and brothers Dino & Terry, who joined Roberts as co-residents after Everdelicious Nicole moved to New York in 2001.

Boogie spills a few fun details about one of The Living Room’s most memorable guests. Back in the days when people could smoke cigarettes anywhere and tobacco companies spent big bucks courting clubbers, Benson & Hedges sponsored a ‘Goldclub’ series of ‘Big DJ, Small Club’ events. This included the legendary Danny Tenaglia at Hard & Soul in December 2000.

Andy Roberts (left) and The Living Room co-owner Tony Sbrocchi. Photo courtesy of Pat Boogie.

”What I remember most about the Tenaglia night—apart from the club fully doubling the sound system—was that the whole DJ booth was full of records,” Boogie recalls. “To this day, I have never seen any DJ bring that many crates to a gig. When I asked some of the other staff about it, they told me that they’d unloaded all of the records from a cube van that Danny’s people drove from New York. Tenaglia played at least an eight-hour set, and the sound system pounded with all of the extra bins. That night was pure insanity.”

While Hard & Soul was handed to a different team at the close of 2001, Roberts and Boogie host occasionally reunion parties to this day.

Bartenders Jen Hill & JD. Photo courtesy of Albert Assoon.

Luao Party: bartenders JD and Megan McMullen-DeGennaro with Albert Assoon (right). Photo courtesy of Assoon.

Who else played/worked there: Dozens of DJs dropped a variety of sounds at The Living Room over the years, with Gio, James K, Hedley Jones and Chris Sheppard among them. Johnny Quest (a.k.a. Robby Streek) and DJ Astronaught held down a short-lived Wednesday trance night, while Jedi Records and Most Wanted Entertainment promoted the drum ‘n’ bass Silk Thursdays for most of 2002. Silk’s roster of local residents included DJs Ra, Illfingas, and Slip & Slide. DJ Freaky Flow and MC Flipside recorded a live CD for Moonshine Records at Silk, and UK guests included Goldie, Total Science, and Mickey Finn.

As with any good bar, the staff was integral to The Living Room’s vibe, with other star characters mentioned including bartenders JD and Jennifer Hill, and promoter Billy X.

“The staff was like this crazy family,” says Sbrocchi. “We all worked hard together and played hard together. All of the staff—from the door, to the barbacks, bartenders, and DJs—were amazing, and we were fortunate to have them.”

“When it comes down to it, clubs are all about timing, and I think that with The Living Room, the right people came together at the right time,” says Roberts. “I feel very fortunate for it. That’s tough to recreate.”

Andy Roberts (left) with Christian Newhook a.k.a. Dinamo Azari, at The Living Room. Photo courtesy of Pat Boogie.

What happened to it: By 2002, The Living Room had slowed and the lease was set to expire.

“The club closed due to a lengthy court battle with the landlord, who wanted to evict us and build a condo,” says Sbrocchi. “It became too costly to continue.”

330 Adelaide St. W. next housed a variety of businesses, most notably The Roosevelt Room. Today, just like the former site of The Twilight Zone, it is a condo in the making—the 40-storey Peter Street Condos are currently in development.

“Operating a successful club requires a lot of attention and can be hazardous to your health,” summarizes Sbrocchi, who’s now a law student. “If not for the support of my brothers, and the creative input of the Assoons, the Room would never have turned out the way that it did. I’m glad we were able to liven up a scene that has become a homogenized joke. There are days when I really want to do another club just to wake up people and actually give them their money’s worth.”

The Assoons appear to be thinking likewise.

“We are presently engaging in conversation about a space that would mean an up-to-date Twilight Zone,” offers Michael.

“Whenever the opportunity arises for us to open a nightclub, we work to give the city something fresh, exciting and memorable,” says Albert; “And sometimes set new benchmarks.” [Addendum: The Assoons opened Remix Lounge at 1305 Dundas West in 2014.]

In the meantime, DJ, producer and Mixed Signals Music boss Roberts will soon host a new Sunday weekly devoted to “classics from all eras of house music” just down the street. Déjà vu launches June 10 at Parlour Lounge.

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

Article originally published March 30, 2012 by The Grid online (TheGridTO.com).

A look back at the ‘80s east-end haunt that imported U.K. rave culture to Toronto, let dancers openly shag on the third floor, and gave a young Gerard Butler his first gig as a doorman.

BY: DENISE BENSON

Club: Tazmanian Ballroom, 99-101 Jarvis

Years in operation: 1987-1990

History: Just as true characters have frequented Toronto’s most memorable nightclubs, they’ve owned them as well. Few have been as influential, audacious, or fanciful as nightlife impresario and restaurateur Johnny Katsuras. Since the late 1970s, the man better known as Johnny K has owned and operated a wide variety of thematic hot spots—often with wife, business partner, and chef Laura Prentice—in areas just off the beaten path, with a lean towards the city’s east end.

In the second half of 1987, Katsuras followed on the success of his establishments—including his long-running, self-titled resto and surprisingly successful Beaches dance bar Krush—by turning attention to Jarvis and Richmond. Here, in an area filled with historic, often underused commercial buildings, Johnny K purchased a three-floor heritage property built in 1898, once known as MacFarlane’s Hotel. It had previously operated as The Jarvis House and then gay bar Club 101 by the Chrysalis Group, also owners of Yorkville mega-club The Copa.

Ever the rebel, Johnny K chose to offer his crowd something closer to downtown, but more seedy than trendy. He’s always been careful to cultivate a sense of adventure and to purchase real estate accordingly.

“Downtown properties are generally filled by people who follow each other, and I never wanted to do that,” says Katsuras today. “My goal was to find empty buildings that I could put a restaurant-club in, because the kind of business that I like to do is not ‘Oh, look at that place—let’s walk in there and eat.’ No. My places are more about ‘I’m not going in there; that doesn’t look right.’ Unless you know. My signage has always been intended to keep people out, not bring them in.”

Inside the Taz. Photos courtesy of David Prentice.

There was no real sign for Tazmanian Ballroom; you found the place by looking for the crowds gathered out front. Inside, hundreds partied on a main floor that had a 1920s-meets-’70s cocktail vibe, complete with black-and-gold paint, velvet curtains, vintage sofas, dimmed chandeliers, and a huge aquarium. The basement level was even darker.

“The Ballroom was free of bells and whistles,” says Johnny K. “It was a nightclub with no light show. It was like a big, old Victorian-mansion house party. I have to admit: part of my inspiration was that I had read about Nell’s in New York and, also, I was a big fan of The Rocky Horror Picture Show, so a lot of the Ballroom was based on it.”

“The main level set the standard for most lounge clubs of today,” says Mark Oliver, who began his career at the Taz on his way to becoming one of Canada’s top DJs.

“The basement was a different vibe altogether,” Oliver adds. “Able to hold perhaps 200, it had a low ceiling, minimal lighting, bass-rattling turbo sound system and lots of bathroom mischief. If the main level was an opulent castle, the basement was certainly its dungeon.”

Advertisement, courtesy of Malcolm Brown.

Why it was important: Tazmanian Ballroom drew a young, beautiful and very fashion-conscious crowd. They were there because of Johnny K’s mix of creativity and cockiness, and his ability to hire talented people who he encouraged to run with their ideas.

“Johnny K was arguably the most charismatic club owner this city has ever seen,” says Oliver, who’d worked as a bus boy at Krush before helping renovate the Ballroom where he would bartend and, eventually, become a star resident DJ.

“Johnny assembled the most eclectic staff I have ever worked with, and he really wasn’t interested in making money off the club. He’d rather have five of the right people in the club than 500 spending money. He was there to have a good time, and this attitude was infectious.”

Put in charge of implementing Johnny K’s vision was David Prentice, Laura’s brother and Katsuras’ right-hand-man. By 24, David had run the rock department at Sam The Record Man for years, had a background in advertising and marketing, and was deeply influenced by a stay in London where he was wowed by club DJs mixing deep house, disco and soul. He became Tazmanian Ballroom’s Marketing and Promotions Director and much more.

“Johnny gave me free rein to run the club as I saw fit,” says David. “He was very progressive and aggressive with culture. He’s not a guy who likes to sit down and have meetings. He’s much more ‘Let’s do it.’ I credit John with re-defining the nightlife scene in Toronto—with the help of many people.”

Initially open only Saturdays and for special events, Tazmanian Ballroom attracted large crowds through equal parts programming and exclusivity. At a time when most licensed dance clubs in Toronto—think The Diamond, RPM, The Copa or Big Bop—were sizable and thus required large crowds to stay afloat, the smaller Ballroom took a cue from trendy New York clubs and implemented a stringent door policy.

“It wasn’t a first-come, first-served situation,” says Johnny K. “I spent a lot of time and effort picking the right guys to do the door; they had to understand how to see something in somebody. It wasn’t about expensive clothes; it was about what people chose to wear. You could be a little awkward, but you could still get in because you had something. It was about individualism rather than following the crowd.”

“Guys would roll up in Lamborghinis, be turned away and told they may want to try showing up in a cab the next time,” recalls Oliver. “Some people would try for weeks, trying different outfits and hairstyles just to gain entry. There were no dress-code rules; it was all about having the right mix of people inside.”

“Tazmanian Ballroom was a leading-edge type of scene, with many racially mixed couples, straight and gay,” adds Michele Geister, then a MuchMusic producer who moonlighted in the Ballroom’s DJ booth. “Young professionals mixed with club kids and budding DJs. There was a real unity to the patrons singing and getting down in the house party-like atmosphere that wasn’t duplicated anywhere else in T.Dot.”

Through her work at Much, including as a producer/director of pioneering programs Soul in the City and RapCity, Geister had extensive knowledge of hip-hop, which she mixed at the Ballroom with house, acid, techno, funk and reggae.

She could frequently be found playing alongside good friend Karen Young (sometimes under the handles ForceMG and FunKY). Both were largely influenced by CKLN programs Fantastic Voyage and Dave’s Dance Music, and were dancefloor devotees of the Twilight Zone.

“David Prentice liked our enthusiasm and selections, and offered us a gig in the basement,” Young recalls. “So we co-gigged for a while, then split to play separately. I played Saturday nights, Michele played Friday. Back then, we lugged 50-to-100 pounds of vinyl into a taxi in our lycra miniskirts and high heels.

“Part of the charm of the Taz was that it was not a super-slick club like The Copa or RPM,” says Young, a Ballroom resident for more than a year. “It had terrible DJ booths and if people danced right in front of the booth area, the records would jump. It was more like how a party at your house would be in terms of set-up. The basement was just a dark room with mirrors, a bar and no furniture. It was totally underground, with a little old-school.” [Post publication, Young compiled this selection of sounds she played at the Taz.]

These sounds—coupled with the rare groove, disco, and rock played upstairs by David Prentice and his talented then-girlfriend Heather Lawrence—made the Taz stand out.

“Musically, it was pretty controversial for its time in Toronto,” says Prentice. “It took a couple of months for people to catch onto it. I’ll credit the Assoon brothers and Twilight Zone though, because they were doing everything I’d heard while in London, and John gave me the opportunity to bring all of that to a more commercial venue.”

A new phase began when Mark Oliver moved from bouncing between bartending and DJing upstairs or warming things up in the basement to DJing each weekend.

“I played on the main level at first, as did Heather Lawrence,” says Oliver. “When she was playing, I would tend one of the bars. I was making $500 a night in tips at the bar, but I really only wanted to DJ, even for the going rate of $45 a night. It was the Summer of Love in the UK in 1988, and I felt an incredible urge to spread the love on this side of the pond.

“From that point on, I played house in the basement every Friday and Saturday. The crowd was very diverse, from b-boys to fashionistas. We were jacking to the new acid-house sounds for the first time, so it was very exciting and special.” (For those keeping track, this was well before Oliver would produce raves under the Exodus collective banner or fill the back room of the Cameron with his Acid Jazz Wednesdays.)

Rock & Roll Fag Bar flyer courtesy of Malcolm Brown.

By this point, Tazmanian Ballroom was packed with very different crowds each weekend. Fridays had opened as Rock & Roll Fag Bar early in 1988 when Maxwell Blandford, a former manager at Nuts & Bolts, was lured from his job at The Copa to become the Ballroom’s new promo director.

“I liked the idea of doing a gay night in a straight club as it really was not being done much in Toronto at that time,” says Blandford. “I also thought the music in the Toronto gay scene was so lame and Rock & Roll Fag Bar was a great opportunity to launch something new.”

Although there was initial controversy surrounding its name—complete with CBC coverage and letters of complaint in a local weekly—Rock & Roll Fag Bar was an instant success.

“The night had no glitz, yet it was so fabulous with its boudoir decoration,” Blandford enthuses. “It was two floors, with Heather and David spinning rock and rare groove upstairs while Mark played house downstairs. Rock & Roll Fag Bar had many distinct elements, but music was first and foremost.

Courtesy of Maxwell Blandford

“We also had sex, and loads of it. It started out on Fridays when the customers broke down the door to the third floor. It was a series of abandoned rooms—the venue had been a brothel decades before—and each filled up. There could be 150 guys up there. We put a bar in and gave out condoms.

“As repressive as the liquor laws were at that time, so was sex because of AIDS. So we offered a wild, spontaneous place to have sex and then go back downstairs and dance. Sex on the third floor was not exclusive to the gay night either. It became a very popular place for a quickie on Saturdays too, until we eventually closed the floor.

“Breaking the rules was one of the most significant features of the Taz,” concludes Blandford, now living in Miami and marketing high-end South Beach spots including The Forge. “Johnny was a ‘bad boy’ and attached himself to others. The more different and edgy you were, the better your events.”

“There weren’t a lot of rules at the Taz,” agrees Karen Young. “Upstairs, people would dance on the bar and swing from the ceiling. One time they brought down the sprinkler system. There always seemed to be men in the ladies’ washroom, and a stinky mop closet in the basement was another favourite shagging spot.”

Audacity was a Taz trademark.

“Those considered freaks who were banished from other clubs were encouraged at the Ballroom; the wilder, the better,” says Oliver. “Dallas, a bartender, would blow fire across the length of the bar a few times a night. I remember driving my Vespa around in circles through the club while there were still people dancing.

“A good friend of mine, Gerry from Scotland, was living here at the time, and kept asking me to find him a job. I finally got him in as a doorman. The original doorman, Greg, was nicknamed ‘Hollywood,’ but it was Gerry who went on to become the real Hollywood. He is now more commonly known as Gerard Butler.”

Maxwell Blandford (left) with Towa Tei and Super DJ Dmitri of Deee-Lite, and their tour manager.
Photo courtesy of Blanford.

Who else played/worked there: Special events at the Ballroom included soirees hosted by infamous hair stylist Diva, vogue balls hosted by designers Dean and Dan of dSquared, and early Fetish Nights.

Super DJ Dmitri of Deee-Lite played the opening of Rock & Roll Fag Bar while a handful of early hip-hop artists also performed at the Taz.

“David Prentice loved Spoonie Gee, and brought him to the Ballroom, as he later did Philly rapper Schoolly D and his DJ Code Money,” Geister recalls. “Although both times the turnout wasn’t great, they were legendary, up-close experiences for those in attendance.”

Photo courtesy of Malcolm Brown.

Just as risks were taken in programming, Johnny K invested in other arts endeavours, including as publisher of I.C.E. magazine, a heavily stylized arts, music, and fashion publication distributed for free in Katsuras-owned venues and across much of the country.

Staffed largely by Tazmanian Ballroom employees—with David Prentice as Editor, Blandford as Managing Editor, and Malcolm Brown as Art Director—I.C.E. won design awards and featured early photography by artists including Floria Sigismondi and Lisa Mann.

“We wanted a magazine that reflected our vibe, and there was a market for it,” says Brown, who then also bartended at the Ballroom, as did his brother, photographer Adrian Brown.

“Johnny had a lot of money at that time, and was able to handle the huge expenses that our I.C.E. was amassing. Everyone supplemented the little pay we made at the magazine by working in Johnny’s clubs. By that time, he also had The Claremont Hotel, and King Curtis, Liberty Restaurant, and The 4th and 5th all in the same building as I.C.E. at The Liberty.

“We were all very young and Johnny would let people swim on our own,” says Brown, who went on to design or art direct at magazines including Shift, Raygun, and Outpost. “The more outrageous an idea, the more he would support it. The magazine collapsed as money ran out, but anyone associated with it had a very special experience thanks to Johnny K.”

The I.C.E. staff in the May 27, 1989 edition of the Toronto Sun. Courtesy of Maxwell Blandford.

What happened to it: Tazmanian Ballroom ran for little more than two years, but went out with a bang in early 1990.

“Things were even crazier than usual at the closing party,” says Oliver. “The fire department showed up, and I’ll never forget the looks on their faces when they came in the basement where I was spinning. The ceiling was on the verge of collapse from the mayhem.”

“I remember being at the last night very, very late and being ushered out by firemen who had had declared the building unsafe,” corroborates Geister. “What had been a legendary scene partied right to the end. I’m happy that I was a part of it, and got to experience what I believe were the real golden years of nightclubbing in Toronto.”

She, along with Oliver, Blandford, Young, and much of the Ballroom staff went on to work at various rooms within Johnny K’s nearby Liberty building.

Toronto’s real estate market crashed in 1989, and Johnny K was never one to let decisions linger. He sold the Jarvis building to the Ken Thomson family, who later sold it to Kiosk Furniture. It was boarded up for some time, later used for warehousing and storage, and opened late 2011 as the Toronto location of furniture and design store Poliform.

Johnny K went on to open numerous restaurants and lounges, most notably Mrs. Smith’s Cocktail Party, Lolita’s Lust, and Tomi-Kro, which closed suddenly last October. He and Laura Prentice now operate The Playpen at Gerrard and Carlaw.

David Prentice now lives in St. Catharines with his family, and owns two outposts of the Kilt & Clover pub.

The Taz spirit is carried on in the form of Tazmania Ballroom, a Hong Kong lounge and club opened by Gilbert Yeung, a former regular at the Toronto location.

Postscript: Sadly, Johnny Katsuras passed away following a battle with cancer in late September, 2014. His influence on Toronto’s culinary and nightlife scenes will long be felt.

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

Article originally published February 1, 2012 by The Grid online (TheGridTO.com).

In this instalment of her ongoing nightlife-history series, Denise Benson looks back at the notoriously decadent late-’80s dance club that brought metalheads and rap fans together, installed a hot tub and cages on the dancefloor, and effectively brought the “queer” to Queen West.

BY: DENISE BENSON

Club: Boom Boom Room, 650 ½ Queen St. W.

Years in operation: 1988-1993

History: One cannot discuss this city’s nightlife history at any length without mention of the brothers Ballinger: Lon, Stephen, Douglas and Peter. The self-described “Rock ‘n’ Roll Farmers” from Dundalk, Ontario ruled the roost in mid-to-late-1980s Toronto. In 1986, they converted the former Holiday Tavern at Queen and Bathurst into The Big Bop, a multi-floor rock and dance club that packed in the student crowd. Its success paved the way for future Ballinger club endeavours, including Go-Go, Rockit and, at the northeast corner of Queen and Palmerston, Boom Boom Room.

Previously, 650 ½ Queen West was home, at street level, to live blues venue The Pine Tree Tavern, with a hotel above. In 1988, the Ballingers bought and renovated the building, turning the upstairs into Hotel Heartbreak—a hotel-cum-rooming house announced by a big, bold neon sign—and the downstairs into a “Rock ‘n’ Roll Danceteria” that was far more intimate and edgy than their other club efforts.

Saturday night resident DJ Mr Pete (left) with Vince and Trish. Photo courtesy of Kim Ackroyd.

Boom Boom Room was well suited to its surroundings. In the late 1980s, Queen west of Bathurst was still the great unknown—wild and peppered with unique possibilities thanks to then-affordable rent. With the newly opened, artist-owned Mexican restaurant La Hacienda a couple of doors down (and the Bovine Sex Club not yet in existence), Boom Boom Room became Queen West’s new meeting place for punks, metalheads, fashionistas and assorted nocturnal creatures of all genders and orientations.

The Ballingers chose a rugged and raw aesthetic, with metal and exposed concrete at the core of their 350-capacity space. The entrance, made of prison-cell bars, led to a catwalk lined by highway guardrails. From there, one could play voyeur and watch people dance on the floor below or—after it was added a year later—in the showpiece metal “go-go cage” found directly across. The infamous raised DJ booth was hell to access—up a tall, vertical metal ladder—but provided incredible sightlines once records were lugged up.

DJ James ‘St. Bass’ Vandervoort. Photo courtesy of him.

“The space was unlike anything I had seen before: all concrete and metal and sparse, but with a killer sound system,” recalls James Vandervoort, who originally worked lights, and later earned his DJ stripes and alias of James St. Bass at the venue.

Vandervoort also recalls the “the family vibe” of the Boom as managers, DJs and other staff who worked in Ballinger-owned venues hopped between clubs as needed. Many of them also lived upstairs in Hotel Heartbreak.

“It was chaos some nights,” Vandervoort exclaims. “With the Big Bop, Boom Boom and Go-Go all built and opened over a few years, all of the staff was tried out in all the club combinations.”

Boom staff and friends hang after hours. Photo courtesy of Sofie Weber.

Why it was important: Boom Boom Room brought a diverse clientele further west along Queen, largely thanks to its staff and quality music programming. The two original resident DJs—Vania and Richard Vermeulen—were key. Vania and host KC were the forces behind hugely popular Wednesday weekly Sgt. Rocks, arguably the first club night in Toronto to mix metal with alt-rock and hip-hop.

“I was always at Sgt. Rocks because it was a great party, filled with biker-style dudes and hot rock ‘n’ roll girls,” says Vandervoort. “This was at the best time for ’80s hair rock—think Guns N’ Roses, Faster Pussycat, Jane’s Addiction and The Cult circa Sonic Temple—but Vania mixed it up and played Public Enemy and other hip-hop to the rock crowd, too. They loved it!”

Sgt. Rocks flyer courtesy of James Vandervoort

Boom Boom Room promo courtesy of Tim Barraball

For much of the Boom’s first year, DJ Richard Vermeulen worked its booth Thursday through Saturday. He had developed a strong following while resident on Tuesdays at early Richmond Street hotspot Stilife, and had a wicked way of blending rock, funk, disco, acid house and more.

Vandervoort became St. Bass—and inadvertently helped lay the foundations for “Queer West” beyond Bathurst—in 1989, charged with the task of drawing a larger audience on Thursdays. A queer rocker boy with a big love for Toronto’s after-hours house scene and clubs (including Twilight Zone and Tazmanian Ballroom), Vandervoort began playing a blend of house, disco and exclusive British 12-inches, sent to him by friends who had moved to London. Not surprisingly, the night packed up with a fashion-conscious crowd, including a lot of gay men. Re-branded Boys Night Out, Thursdays became a Boom signature night.

“Guys were coming down to Queen and Palmerston from Church and Wellesley. We were attracting major numbers of queers out of the established clubs in the Village, which had not happened before to my knowledge,” says Vandervoort. “I wasn’t trying to prove anything vis-a-vis Queen West versus Church Street, but Boys Nite Out did prove there was gay club life beyond the gay ghetto.

“I’d like to think it was because of the music,” says the man who went on to helm CIUT’s popular Hard Drive show. “I was packing the floor with sounds like [A Guy Called Gerald's] “Voodoo Ray,” E.S.P.’s “It’s You,” and all the Ten City records I could get. Thursdays grew quickly to become the busiest night, and I learned to mix as I went along.”

It didn’t hurt that the night also featured hosts including Stephen Wong—now half of fashion house Greta Constantine—and “untraditional boys in underwear doing their thing” as go-go dancers in the caged catwalk.

“Most famous was Noam Gonick, now a hip queer filmmaker based in Winnipeg, who dazzled with outrageous drag outfits and fetish gear, and really took the night over the top visually. The first night Stephen Wong sent him into the cage to dance, Noam cut himself to shreds on all of the sharp metal and unfinished edges. The whole space was dangerous that way; we are all scarred from the booth, stairs and that catwalk,” Vandervoort recounts.

James St. Bass soon DJed Thursdays, Fridays and Saturdays, leaving to become a resident at Go-Go in 1990. So began phase two of Boom Boom Room, marked most obviously by the sale of the club business to Steve McMinn, a manager at both the Boom and Go-Go, and his then-girlfriend Kim Ackroyd.

Kim Ackroyd (far left) with Tim, Manny, and Scott circa 1991. Photo courtesy of her.

“Our first six months consisted of throwing lots of parties, fashion shows, cirque, music performances, piercing-and-tattoo demonstrations—basically exploring what worked in the space and what didn’t,” Ackroyd recalls.

“We found that the neighbourhood itself was very diverse and therefore it made sense that the club should be. Within a year, we had five strong and very different nights, with hard rock on Wednesdays, a boys night on Thursdays, Dyke Nite on Fridays, a more suburban rock night Saturdays and industrial on Sundays.”

Denise Benson circa 1991.

Full disclosure: I was the DJ and promoter of Dyke Nite, which ran from 1991 to 1993. It remains a highlight of my DJ career, both because the Boom was where I really began to blend rock, reggae, rave, hip-hop and house, and because early ’90s dyke-and-queer culture was expressive-to-the-point-of-explosive. With full Boom Boom Room support, we featured early evening experimental film screenings, readings by the likes of Sarah Schulman and Alec Butler, community fundraisers, concerts by Ani DiFranco, hot-tub parties and more. The club’s catwalk and cubbyholes were put to good use, with the night’s vibe captured in Excess Is What We Came For, a short film made by Kathleen Pirrie Adams and Paula Gignac.

“Back then, it felt like we were just throwing some really fun cool parties, but in hindsight, there was a social revolution going on, especially on Dyke Nite,” says Ackroyd. “We were pushing all kinds of boundaries and sailing in uncharted territory. We provided space for people to express themselves, to find their voice. It was a beautiful thing.”

“Imagine Cheers with a clientele of goths, punks, freaks, rockers, gays, lesbians, preps and glam all rolled into one room,” summarizes Michael X Mckinlay, resident DJ and mastermind of the wildly popular Sunday Night Asylum from 1989 to 1993. “You didn’t need to go elsewhere.

“The Boom was a very unique venue, both in operations and in appearance,” says the DJ, then also known for his events at venues including Nuts & Bolts, Catch 22 and The Phoenix.

“Steel cages kept you separated from the go-go dancers but, once the dancers had left, the cages were yours. Being a narrow, two-storey club had its drawbacks, but over all, the Boom lived up to its name—boom!”

Michael X Mckinlay, on Big Dan’s shoulders. Photo courtesy of Sofie Weber.

Who else played/worked there: “One real benefit of the Boom was the diversity of its DJs,” asserts Mckinlay, himself known for mixing the likes of Prince with Rage Against the Machine, Sisters of Mercy and Apotheosis’ “O Fortuna”… before closing it all out with some John Denver.

“You had crossover-play between the DJs, but they were really unique and had different styles and followers,” says Mckinlay. “We were allowed to play what we wanted and weren’t held back by a ‘club theme’ or a prerequisite style.”

Some of the other core DJs who played during different periods included Mark Oliver, Matt C, Jason Steele, DJ Iain, Shawn MacDonald and DJ Dwight. Louie Palu, now an award-winning documentary photographer, and DJ Joe held down Sgt. Rocks together as “DJ Joe Louie” after Vania departed, while Mr. Pete rocked Saturdays for years. When Mr. Pete split, a Boom bartender named Shannon got her DJ start by taking the helm on Saturdays.

DJ Shannon at the Boom. Photo courtesy of Kim Ackroyd.

“I’ve been so influenced as a DJ by the Boom,” says DJ Shannon, now a 17-year-strong resident at the Dance Cave. “There was no holding back on the dancefloor as we played for open-minded people who loved all kinds of music. I like to think I’ve been keeping the flame alive all these years. I miss that bar so much; I’d say it was my favourite haunt back in the day.”

Boom bartender Deanna. Photo courtesy of Kim Ackroyd.

Many other creative Torontonians lent their skills to the Boom, including promoter Steve Ireson (he went on to manage at Go-Go), bartenders Julian Finkel (now owner of Model Citizen in Kensington Market) and Michael Schwarz (now an owner of Insomnia on Bloor), tattoo artist Mikey and fashion designer Deanna, a Queen Street darling now also known for her years of bar service at the Bovine.

Boom staffer Mikey. Photo courtesy of Kim Ackroyd.

Boom doorman Richard. Photo courtesy of Kim Ackroyd.

“We were lucky that our core bar staff were very talented people,” says Kim Ackroyd. “We had fashion designers, DJs, tattoo artists, musicians, and graphic designers working as bus-people, bartenders, wait staff and doormen. Our success was heightened by the dedication of the staff who contributed more than what they were hired to do.”

Most memorable moments: Deanna, who worked in various capacities from 1988 to 1993, cites the club’s hot-tub parties; setting things on fire while serving customers; the time actor Doug Bradley (a.k.a. Pinhead in Hellraiser) judged a Halloween contest; and the opening of Dyke Nite in 1991.

“The very first Dyke Night was so fucking busy we had to hire another busser on the spot,” she shares. “That night, we had more than 500 people through the door; the bussers had to walk outside and around to the front door to service the front bars. You couldn’t move in there.”

Dyke Nite ad. Courtesy of Denise Benson.

“The girls had some pent-up energy that they let loose,” deadpans Ackroyd, who also recalls visits by Madonna’s dancers and crew during the Blonde Ambition tour stops and “some things I just can’t share. Sex and drugs and rock and roll…”

“In today’s world, if asked whether I had any fun stories of the Boom Boom Room, well, it would be considered NSFW,” agrees Mike X Mckinlay. “Let’s just say that having a hot tub in the middle of your dancefloor can create an intimate experience for you and some friends. Oh yeah, pool tables are great too. So are elevated, virtually inaccessible DJ booths.”

What happened to it: Most people I spoke with say Boom Boom Room closed near the end of 1993, while a few suggest early 1994 feels more like it. The crowds had thinned by then, but long-time staffer Deanna also recalls that, mysteriously, the Ballinger brothers still held the liquor license and let it lapse. The brothers opened New York mega-club Webster Hall in 1992, and own it to this day.

Hero Burger at 650 Queen West

Later in the 1990s, Boom Boom Room became intimate rave haven Fat City—owned for a stretch by Steve Ireson and Mychol Holtzman. The venue then became the uniquely (some might say “bizarrely”) decorated Volcano Room, owned by Michael Sweenie who would later open Andy Poolhall on College Street. In 2005, it opened as a Hero Burger, with the Hotel Heartbreak sign still found above. The one time I visited the washroom there, the Boom’s original corrugated steel doors were still in place, as was the club’s lower level concrete dancefloor. Take a wander, and imagine for yourself.

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