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 March 12, 2013 by The Grid online (thegridto.com).

Denise Benson revisits both the original Isabella Street location that laid down the breeding ground for Toronto’s early-‘80s alternative music and fashion scenes –also seeming to be U2’s home away from home– and the Yonge Street haunt that later served as a hangout for goths, punks and ska fans alike.

BY: DENISE BENSON

Club: Domino Klub (1 Isabella St.), later Klub Domino (279 Yonge St.)

Years in operation: 1979-1987

History: In the late 1970s through much of the ’80s, Yonge and Isabella was an epicentre for emergent music, arts, and fashion culture. The area came alive at night, with numerous booze-cans and after-hours clubs drawing dancers to upper-level locations on Yonge and decadent discos on side streets, especially St. Joseph. Before Domino’s opened upstairs at 1 Isabella, the venue had been the Cheetah Club. Owned by Gunther Weswaldi, whose background was in the food and beverage industry, the Cheetah was short lived. It’s thought that Weswaldi and his wife Darlene opened Domino at this address in early 1979. (Weswaldi’s current whereabouts are unknown.) Advertised as a venue where people could meet for “lunch, dinner, dancing, disco,” Domino’s was a licensed restaurant and nightclub open daily. It did not launch with a distinct identity.

Image courtesy of Roy Paul.

Rock station Q107, which had gone on-air in mid-1977, promoted a number of events at Domino’s before street-savvy event producer Michael Gallow and pioneering post-punk DJ Dave Allen approached Weswaldi with the concept of entertaining downtown denizens interested in a new wave of sounds and styles.

“Dave and I had participated in the earliest days of the punk-rock explosion in town,” writes Gallow by email. “By early 1979, that energy had degenerated into teenage-male aggro. The arty/fashion element of punk was mutating into new wave, and fit well with our Yonge and Bloor crowd. Elements of the Church/Wellesley ghetto were still partying hard, and there was a blending of that uptown scene with ours.”

DJ Dave Allen. Photo by Alice Andersen, Wonderland Photography.

Gallow and Allen soon brought a fashionable mix of people to 1 Isabella.

“The first event was a post-concert party for [British band] Japan, in late November 1979, with promo and ticket giveaways on Q107,” says Gallow. “I remember David Sylvian looking like a deer caught in the proverbial fan’s headlights.”

Gallow also recalls that Weswaldi was interested in having his venue play host to new sounds and scenes, with an emphasis on dancing rather than the live acts Q107 personnel had proposed. This also made Domino’s different than live music venues like The Edge, The Colonial, El Mocambo, and Horseshoe Tavern, which all booked punk and new-wave bands, to varying degrees.

“Dave and I felt there were enough live venues around, but nowhere for the evolving new music/fashion/art scene to hang out,” says Gallow.

They were given the go-ahead.

“Gunther called the spot Domino’s. We suggested the Domino Klub—a tip of the hat to the Mudd Club in N.Y.C. That worked for him.”

Michael Gallow (left) with the Doc. Photo courtesy of Roy Paul.

Why it was important: Domino was Toronto’s original post-punk and new-wave dance club. Sets of new wave could be heard at nearby gay clubs like Stages and Club David’s; The Edge was ground zero for pioneering live music; and Nuts & Bolts, Twilight Zone, and Voodoo would all soon open doors to dancers seeking brand new sounds. But Domino was the first.

“Most of our music was post-punk and the beginnings of electro-pop,” says Gallow, who purchased much of Domino Klub’s music. “I knew we would be a hit when I looked out at a sardine-packed dance floor as Gary Numan’s ‘Cars‘ and The Normal’s ‘Warm Leatherette‘ boomed over the sound system. We were definitely the only spot in town for that experience.”

The original Domino had a number of things going for it, in addition to a prime location. Not only did its dining room attract a crowd looking for cheap, decent food, it also provided a quieter space for people to talk, and friendships to develop. Further down the hallway was the large main room, ideal for dancers and voyeurs alike. The sizable dancefloor—much of it stainless steel—was slightly sunken, overlooked by a long bar and a variety of seated and standing areas. Dancers tended to face a wall of smoked mirrors.

“All the better for making sure your moves were cool,” says Gallow.

The men’s bathrooms at Domino Klub. Photo by Alice Andersen, Wonderland Photography.

Domino may have smelled of smoke and beer—Black Label was the drink of choice—and had only adequate sound and lighting, but the layout allowed enough options for punks, skinheads, fashionistas, and artists of all stripes and sexualities to gather comfortably. Dave Allen’s range of edgy sounds also connected crowds.

“Dave had a tremendous enthusiasm for the music, and he was able to communicate that,” offers Gallow. “He was willing to explore the less obvious music, and had an intuitive grasp of what each segment of the audience wanted to hear. [He’d play] up-and-coming tunes early, peaked with hits for the large mixed crowd, and got more dark and experimental as the early hours of the morning arrived.” (Allen himself could not be reached for comment. Even close friends are uncertain of his whereabouts.)

Chris Sheppard in the Domino’s DJ booth. Photo: Dusty Reeves.

“The original Domino’s was ground zero for the re-birth of club culture,” says Canadian DJ/producer Chris Sheppard. His interest in new music, dancing, and meeting girls had made him an early regular at Domino Klub, and he soon got his DJing start there.

“Chris was the first person to control the DJ booth beyond Dave or myself,” confirms Gallow. “And that was only as a replacement on nights when we couldn’t.”

Sheppard, who later became Domino Klub’s main resident, was finely tuned in to the sounds of the time. Even now, he underscores the difference between the music of Domino and that heard at Nuts & Bolts, which launched as an alternative dance club in 1980.

“1 Isabella was much cooler,” proclaims Sheppard. “Punk had progressed, and Domino was an important part of the post-punk movement. Nuts & Bolts was The Cars and Elvis Costello; Domino was Fad Gadget, 4″ Be 2″, Gang of Four, Japan, and more Japan. Domino was The Associates, The Jam, Nina Hagen, Cabaret Voltaire, The Cure, Blancmange, and Joy Division; Nuts & Bolts was ‘Hey Mickey.’”

The Domino Klub charts, circa March 15, 1980. Courtesy of Roy Paul.

Regardless of the nuances that might seem subtle to some ears, all of this music was so new that nightclubs played an essential role in it being heard. Bands toured with support from club DJs, record shops, magazines, and select media outlets. In late 1970s Toronto, only upstart radio station CFNY played such music with consistency.

“Ivar Hamilton would come and listen to the tunes we were spinning, and they would show up on the CFNY playlist,” recalls Gallow. “I also have strong memories of Jeanne Beker and J.D. Roberts coming by regularly to do interviews at the club. The NewMusic on City-TV had just started, and we were a convenient spot for filming.”

Record labels and concert promoters also took note.

“Almost every band The Garys brought into town came by the Domino Klub to hang out,” states Sheppard. “I remember deep conversations with Simple Minds about where they were going musically.”

Sheppard, like many, still recalls the excitement of David Sylvian and Japan’s early visits.

“When Japan came and hung out at the club for a week or so, it was like meeting with the messiah at the time. Japan was so important to us all, as a group and for their fashion sense.”

The members of U2 also became frequent visitors.

“I have a strong memory of seeing U2 at the El Mocambo,” Gallow enthuses. “It was their first Toronto gig. Dave and I grabbed them in the dressing room, and took them to Domino’s by cab.”

“Dave Allen gets credit for being the first [Toronto] DJ to push U2,” adds Sheppard. “Off the back of their first 7-inch single, we knew U2 was going to be huge one day. So we all went down to their first gig at the El Mocambo. The place was not even half full. I remember Dave telling Bono and The Edge that they could be so much better. They were a fixture at 1 Isabella, every time they came back to town, which seemed like every other week.”

Although Domino Klub did not focus on live shows, members of many local bands were among the early core crowd, and did perform.

“Platinum Blonde was like the house band,” says Sheppard. “When they were not playing, they were hanging out. It’s where they started.”

Platinum Blonde at Domino Klub. Photo by Alice Andersen, Wonderland Photography.

“Mark Holmes, founder of Platinum Blonde, was around all the time in the early days,” agrees Gallow. “The English accent came and went, but he was very determined to be a flashy rock star. Good on him, as he achieved his goal.” (Holmes is now also co-owner of College Street venue Mod Club.)

Other homegrown talents, like The Deserters and Nash the Slash, performed. Montreal’s Men Without Hats made their Toronto debut at Domino. N.Y.C. no-wave band Bush Tetras also played there, as did Cali punks Black Flag.

Poster courtesy of Roy Paul.

“There was also a time when Marianne Faithful came up to the booth and requested her own music,” recalls Avery Tanner, a DJ who got his start playing at York University while also a Fine Arts student.

He and friends including DJ Don Cochran (later a Twilight Zone resident) and Arthur Wanner also produced downtown parties where Wanner’s extensive Beta-tape collection of music videos would be shown. In the summer of 1981, Tanner and Wanner were invited to do Wednesday video parties at Domino.

Record labels including PolyGram hopped on board, with Domino’s also hosting themed video nights featuring breaking bands like Killing Joke. The labels, along with hipper media outlets, turned to Domino not just because the club’s DJs played the newest of the new, but also because it attracted a loyal crowd of trendsetters.

“It seemed that people just lived there,” says Tanner. “They were there all week long. It really was a cultural resource centre for freaks of all ilks.”

“It was everyone your parents were afraid of and warned you about,” says early-’80s Domino Klub regular Carson Foster. “We all would read The Face each month, and adopt the fashions immediately afterwards.”

Domino was the very first club Foster went to. He was brought there by “a 15-year-old Rosedale runaway I’d let stay with me,” and kept going back for “the fashion, the music, the danger, the posing.

“Bits of new wave were starting to eradicate the Boston and Kansas frontal lobes I’d grown up with, but Domino was like an immersion tank,” says Foster, who later worked as The Rivoli’s talent booker and founded the Kickass Karaoke series. “The music was unlike anything I’d ever experienced before. The common thread was that it was new, and not on any radio station I’d heard. [It was] funk, punk, rap, and rock all mixed together.”

Now a professional grip working in Canadian film, Foster then also had ties to Domino as an employee of fashion-forward Canadian designers Parachute.

Carson Foster outside Parachute. Photo courtesy of him.

“We were fortunate to hook up with the gang from the newly opened Parachute clothing store in Yorkville,” recalls Gallow. “They were from Montreal and were, without a doubt, the most experimental fashion crowd Toronto had ever seen. One sales associate, named Mitchell, would stop traffic at Yonge and Bloor when he strolled down the street. The Parachute crew really cemented our fashion status, as they needed a place to be seen streetwise, and our space and music combo was perfect for them. Things build on one another, and quickly we gained a reputation as a sympathetic spot for new British music and edgy fashion.”

Gallow, Allen, and friends had created a space where expression and originality were paramount. People of varying genders, sexualities and subcultures came together. Many in Domino’s core crowd would become active members of Toronto’s cultural vanguard.

“It was such an amazing group of talented, beautiful people,” enthuses Sheppard. “The scene then was so small that we all developed friendships that last till this day.”

Image courtesy of Roy Paul.

Sheppard mentions many by name, like lighting designer Stephen Pollard, who would go on to work with bands including Psychedelic Furs, U2, and Simple Minds; jewelry designers Ruth Weller and Richard Vermuelen; Tim Blanks, renowned fashion journalist and one-time host of Fashion File; and photographers including Alice Andersen.

“There were a lot of creative people that hung out at Domino,” agrees Andersen, a very familiar face during the club’s first two years.

“What still stands out the most [to me] is that the regulars at Domino bonded, and were like a family. Many maintained relationships outside of the club, and some lived together. I made a lot of good friends at Domino.”

Andersen mentions dozens by name, including visual artist Mike Hansen; lighting tech, Ironhead impresario, and “dancing king” Danny Regan; interior designer Caroline Robbie; special-effects artist Gerald Lukaniuk a.k.a. Score; and the late, great hair stylist John Steinberg, founder of seminal salon Rainbow Room. Many Domino regulars were hair stylists, especially with House of Lords directly across the street.

Some of Andersen’s many photos of Domino’s early devotees are featured in the photo gallery at the top of this page.

“Gunther and Darlene were very open to allowing not only bands to perform, but also to other art forms,” credits Andersen. “Fleur Govaerts and myself created a slide-show story set to music, with Domino kids dressing up as specific characters and participating in the ‘film shoot.’ It was called The Tenement, and we premiered it at Domino.”

Despite all of the cultural collaboration, there were a number of key personnel shifts. Michael Gallow left by the end of 1980, having “realized that Gunther was making all the money through our hard work, contacts, and initiative. He refused to pay anything more than a token fee for the DJ services.”

Gallow opened influential afterhours club Voodoo at 9 St. Joseph in August of 1981. (He now owns marketing company Benchmarx Data Services.) Dave Allen became Voodoo’s main DJ, and many in the Domino crowd shifted allegiances or bounced between venues. Chris Sheppard took over as resident at Domino for a period, followed by Avery Tanner, the club’s inventive full-time DJ who worked most of its last two years.

In early 1984, Domino Klub re-opened as Klub Domino at 279 Yonge St.

Image courtesy of Roy Paul.

“As I recall, the reason for the move was that Gunther’s lease had come up for renewal, and the landlord wanted too much money,” explains Tanner, who moved with the club and was closely involved in the new venue’s renovations. He installed sound and lights, built the DJ booth, and was the core resident during Domino’s first two years on Yonge.

Despite the move to a more commercial part of town—across from the Eaton Centre, no less—the club’s identity as an alternative-music hotspot remained. The new venue had only one room, but it too was up a long narrow flight of stairs. This time, a Centipede video game was found at the entry. Once in the club, patrons could choose between seating areas or a big wooden dancefloor in front of the DJ booth. As a lesson learned from the original location, mirrors were installed on both ends of the dancefloor for those who enjoyed their own reflection. Red and black were the main colours. Black Label beer still reigned supreme—it’s where I had my first one. Canadian cop drama Night Heat even filmed scenes at the new location.

Not surprisingly, most of the original Domino regulars I speak with stress that the second location was not “the real” Domino Klub.

“The second Domino’s was home to the next generation of goths, punks, and electro fans who were too young when [the first location] happened,” says Sheppard. “The only thing it had in common with the original was the name. Isabella was when everything was still so brand new.”

Sheppard did DJ at 279 Yonge in its early days, but left Domino behind later that year to develop Sundays at The Copa. His career exploded when Sheppard became the star DJ at RPM, a host on CFNY, and the main producer behind breakout dance act Love Inc. (He claims to have since earned three Ph.D.s in neuroscience, and says he continues to produce electronic music under a variety of undisclosed project names.)

“The sense that the Isabella location was the ‘real’ Domino is more to do with the cultural mecca that made that place so special,” offers Tanner. “The scene at Dundas was still a wonderful, vibrant, and creative one, but lacked the diversity and grit of Isabella.

“But I don’t feel that there was any compromise or dilution musically,” he emphasizes. “It’s impossible to explain how eclectic the times were. At one moment, I would be playing the ethereal ‘Ghosts‘ by Japan, and the next there would be the thunder of Doc Marten boots pounding the stainless steel floor to ‘Papa’s Got A Brand New Pigbag.’ The Clash, Heaven 17, Cabaret Voltaire, Siouxsie and the Banshees, Echo and the Bunnymen, and The Stranglers were some of my personal favorites.”

DJ Larry Saint and friends in the Klub Domino DJ booth, built by Avery Tanner. Photo courtesy of Saint.

After bringing in friend Larry St. Aubin, a.k.a. DJ Larry Saint, to take over weekends and, eventually, all six nights at the club, Tanner left Klub Domino to spin at the Catwalk, Big Bop and, most famously, New York’s Webster Hall, where he was a star resident from 1992-2012. (He returned to Ontario last summer, and is now a visual artist based in Hamilton.)

Tanner speaks fondly of Domino to this day.

“Gunther Weswaldi was an older, surly man of few words, but I never once had a problem with him. He gave me complete freedom with the music. It may have seemed that Klub Domino was just a business to him and that he was not interested in the cultural movement that it pivoted upon, yet I feel that he was very proud that his baby was such a phenomenon.”

Who else played/worked there: Montreal native Ivan Palmer is synonymous with the last two years of Klub Domino. He was a fixture while Tanner and Larry Saint DJed, and had gained a reputation by spinning at Toronto venues including Zambukie on College, The Catwalk on Richmond, and The Diamond Club on Wednesdays.

Palmer had also DJed at Oz, the nightclub that had moved in to 1 Isabella post-Domino. (The address would later house gay club Komrads.) In 1985, Darlene Weswaldi hired Palmer to play at Klub Domino where he would spin a mix of rock, punk, ska, electrobeat, industrial, new wave, and more multiple nights a week.

“In my view, Klub Domino was the perfect breeding ground for creative people,” says Palmer, perhaps best known and loved for his lean towards goth music and culture, which he championed at Domino.

“Wednesdays were for the Batcavers—a mix of what we now call goth music, and the industrial that was the booming sound of that time,” offers Palmer, listing bands like Alien Sex Fiend, Specimen, Virgin Prunes, Cassandra Complex, Front 242, Sex Gang Children, and Death in June.

He bounced between venues, also including Nuts & Bolts, The Silver Crown, and Club Magic, but Palmer’s Batstrack Wednesdays at Domino were especially popular.

“We would shred garbage bags and hang them on the ceiling, and rip some cheese cloth to dress the whole club up like a cave,” details Palmer. “Many people would come in early to help for free admission. “One week night, all the members of Skinny Puppy came in and stayed the whole night. I played ‘Chew You to Bits‘ by Portion Control, a band that influenced them a lot. Nivek Ogre came up to the booth, gave me the big thumbs up and said, ‘Ivan, Portion Control. Right on!’ I was a really big Skinny Puppy fan, and played a lot of awesome obscure music that night.”

The scene at Klub Domino. Photos courtesy of Silvy Calloway.

Along with Palmer, Stephen Scott, Siobhan O’Flynn, and Philip Brown were some of the last main DJs to work the Domino booth. I danced to all of them, multiple nights a week, during Domino’s closing year—my first living in Toronto.

“I pushed the ska, reggae, and punk revival at the time, as electronica dominated the dancefloors,” says Brown, who played Thursdays and Saturdays. He cites a playlist packed with two-tone ska (The Specials, The Beat), indie and local ska and reggae (The Untouchables, Satellites), original punk (Ramones, Sex Pistols), California hybrids (Fishbone, Dead Kennedys), and more obscure sounds (The Teardrop Explodes, Captain Beefheart).

“Unlike Isabella, the Yonge Street space became more of a punk hangout,” states Brown. “It had more of an edgy, divey vibe to it than Bolts or the Dance Cave, and was not nearly as fashion- and make up–forward as spaces like Voodoo or the Iguana Lounge. Ripped jeans, t-shirts, Doc Martens, kilts and suspenders, black leather, studs, PVC, and silver skull rings were the standard fashion statements.”

Silvy Calloway in a Klub Domino washroom. Photo courtesy of her.

Most Klub Domino staff, like roller-skating waitress Silvy Calloway, and bartender Bastian Cassidy (“she was the heart and soul of the place,” says Brown) shared the aesthetic. Managers—also including Bill Delingat, who worked with Gunther Weswaldi at the original Domino’s; former Nuts & Bolts manager Art Gilewski, and finally Gary Pinter—didn’t necessarily, but they did keep the club humming as best as they could.

“279 Yonge was very low-tech, with a hanging-together-by-tape sound system,” recalls Brown. “It was clear from the lighting system, sound, and bathrooms that absolutely no more money was being spent in the place.”

Poster courtesy of Philip Brown.

What happened to it: “We were a ship that the owners had abandoned, being steered and repaired by the crew, and we had an amazing time doing it,” Brown adds.

“But, as other clubs appeared, with owners and management that saw running a club as a professional enterprise, and as staff jumped ship to better paying or more productive ventures, the last of us knew it was only a matter of time. Rather than just let a piece of Toronto music history shrivel and die, we decided to throw the end-of-an-era, giant blow-out to say thank you, and goodbye.”

Brown, who went on to play at clubs including the Dance Cave and Lizard Lounge, DJed the closing parties in March 1987. (He now works as a real-estate agent in Toronto.) Palmer and Siobhan O’Flynn joined him in closing out the club.

In the mid-’80s, Gunther Weswaldi opened the massive Spectrum Nightclub on the Danforth. Weswaldi also maintained his lease at 279 Yonge, working with people including Bill Delingat (now co-founder of Cashbox magazine; interview requests to him went unanswered) to open both La Cage Aux Folles and Top of the Square Dinner Theatre.

The address is now home to the Hard Rock Café’s Upper Level. Heavily renovated, and almost unrecognizable, the room is available for private and public bookings.

The Hard Rock Cafe upper level.

The spirit of Domino is celebrated through occasional reunion parties, organized by early devotees including Isabelle Moniz and Marika Suha (known during the Domino Klub days as Scary Mary). Palmer, who went on to play at venues such as Spectrum, Catch 22, and his own Night Gallery, now works as a mobile DJ and produces quarterly Batcave parties. Palmer has also DJed at some of the Domino reunions, and says he has plans to produce another. Those interested should keep an eye on his Facebook group, as well as the Domino Klub Alumni group.

Thank you to participants Alice Andersen of Wonderland Photography, Avery Tanner, Carson Foster, Chris Sheppard, Ivan Palmer, Michael Gallow, Phillip Brown, and to Bastian Cassidy, Crystal Watts, David Heymes, Michael Sweenie, Richard Vermuelen, Roy Paul, Ruth Weller-Malchow, Siobhan O’Flynn,and  Silvy Calloway.

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

Article originally published December 14, 2011 by The Grid online. Admittedly, it was difficult to research this club’s earliest years and contributors. As a result, a number of  details originally included were inaccurate or incomplete, as pointed out in comments from a number of Grid readers. Some details have been updated as a result. This story will be further researched and developed for the Then & Now book.

In the latest instalment of her nightlife-history series, Denise Benson takes us back to a time when the edge of the Ryerson campus served as a breeding ground for Toronto’s alternative-scene explosion.

BY: DENISE BENSON

Club: Nuts & Bolts, 277 Victoria St.

Years of operation: 1980-1988 [Original article stated 1977 - 1988]

History: In many ways, fabled alternative bar Nuts & Bolts was one of Toronto’s most unlikely dance-club success stories. Housed in the basement of a six-storey office building on the edge of Ryerson University’s campus, Nuts & Bolts was owned by Frank Cutajar, also proprietor of the All-Star Eatery, located on the ground floor of the same building.

According to all I spoke with and based on my own experiences—my first professional DJ gigs in Toronto were at Cutajar’s gay/alt club Showbiz, located around the corner, upstairs at 3 Gould St.—Frank was far from cutting-edge or visionary in his approach to running clubs. But he hired wisely.

It seems Nuts & Bolts’ first manager, Ed Jandrisits, was heavily responsible for the bar’s post-punk lean as he, in turn, hired a new-wave-loving staff. Jandrisits set the tone for the venue’s family vibe, with a great number of its bartenders, DJs and other staff—including infamous doorman Henry, who greeted people as they made their way down a dark staircase and through double metal doors—remaining at the club for years, often in a variety of jobs.

David Heymes, with Philip Brown in background. Photo courtesy of David Heymes.

One such example is David Heymes, an early Nuts & Bolts customer hired by Jandrisits to do lights and then to DJ multiple nights per week between 1978-80.

“Nuts & Bolts was a very cool underground place at the time,” Heymes recalls. “Only Domino Klub on Isabella was playing the same music. Bolts was also a very unique place where people came together and did not judge others.”

Open six-to-seven nights weekly for most of its lifespan, Bolts had staying power thanks to the energy of its staff, loyalty of its new music–seeking audience and creative vision of subsequent managers, including Art Gilewski and Heymes, who took over the role when Gilewski departed in 1985.

Nuts & Bolts regular Debi Tobar (left) with friend. Photo courtesy of Debi Tobar.

Why it was important: Throughout its history, Nuts & Bolts was a gathering point for a variety of outsiders—punks, new wavers, house heads, goths, gays, bisexuals, artists and others. In sync with the downtown culture of its time, Bolts opened soon after David Marsden took the helm at CFNY (now 102.1 the Edge) and developed it into a true alternative-music station under its famous “spirit of radio” banner. The club and the radio station were parallel entities, with Nuts & Bolts then one of the only licensed spaces in Toronto where people could dance to songs like The Vibrators’ “Disco in Moscow” or The Normal’s “Warm Leatherette.” As a result, patrons visited the club religiously.

Nuts & Bolts regulars. DJ Iain, tallest, at back. Photo courtesy of David Heymes.

“The crowds at Bolts were always incredibly diverse,” recalls Iain McPherson, a.k.a. DJ Iain, who got his professional start spinning Wednesdays and then weekends at the club in the mid ’80s. “There were punks, fashionistas, skinheads, university preppies, goths and so on, and yet there were hardly ever any fights, despite the fact that we were drawing on groups of people who, in other situations, often did not get along well.”

Jason Fox modeling for Leather X. Photo courtesy of him.

“What made Nuts & Bolts stand out from the other clubs was its cohesive alt-community,” agrees Philip Brown, another musically adventurous DJ who developed his reputation playing first at Domino and then as a resident at Bolts. Brown brought his blends of ska, reggae, new wave and dance-punk to the club for three years, beginning in 1985.

“Musically, we were all about a great mix of styles, with enough flexibility to keep everyone entertained, rather than creating musically compartmentalized theme nights,” says Brown. “If you went to Bolts, you were open to all of the subs of subculture, and moved forward as music and style changed, rather than staying stuck in a particular place and time.”

Similarly, the club itself was treated to renovations in the mid-’80s that put signature characteristics in place, namely Nuts & Bolts’ two-tiered stainless steel dancefloor—slippery when wet, but crazy fun to dance on—complete with lights built right in and neon lighting above. The soundsystem was upgraded, the large load-bearing columns were painted a faux marble and local artists including Fiona Smyth and Kurt Swinghammer decorated parts of the club with original murals.

Manager Art Gilewski was a driving force through many of the changes and is frequently credited with helping to revive Nuts & Bolts as attendance began to dip about seven years into its existence. Gilewski hired DJs—including both Brown and McPherson—who constantly looked forward and heavily influenced the next decade of Toronto’s downtown “alternative” nightlife as they did so. McPherson also played a significant role in connecting alt, industrial and early rave audiences.

Varoshi Fame’s Jon Christian, Philip Brown and Deborah Forbes. Photo courtesy of Philip Brown.

Who else played there: Nuts & Bolts explored and exploded with a rotating roster of local DJs. Some played there for mere weeks or months, others for years at a time, so to list them all is impossible. Early residents included Jeffrey LeClair and Ivar Hamilton. A DJ named Tom Brown did a rockabilly night. Stephen Scott famously DJed on Thursdays during the run of popular weekly Ballroom Blitz. Ivan Palmer held down Sundays for good chunk of 1985. House and dance music DJ Chris Torella—of the Starsound Records shop on Yonge and influential monthly music magazine Streetsound—anchored Nuts & Bolts’ weekends for a stretch. Community radio host and deeply knowledgeable sonic warrior Chris Twomey presented Toronto’s first industrial music specialty night on Sundays.

“He was always edgy,” recalls McPherson. “Twomey’s music was incredibly controversial, as were his amazing videos; it was stuff you would never see elsewhere.”

Flyer for Divine at Nuts & Bolts, 1987

And though its sightlines were far from ideal, Nuts & Bolts hosted occasional live performances, most notably by both Divine and Front 242 in 1987, as part of the club’s 10-year celebrations.

“We had our regular cashier act as the hostess for Front 242’s green room when they came to play,” McPherson shares. “She ended up marrying the lead singer and moving to Belgium with him.”

Pointedly political industrial/noise band Varoshi Fame—of which both Phillip Brown and David Heymes were members for a period—also played Bolts a number of times.

What happened to it: From the mid-’80s on, as alternative music became far more popular and accessible, Toronto saw licensed clubs such as The Copa, RPM, The Dance Cave, Silver Crown, Boom Boom Room, Tazmanian Ballroom and others open and include alt theme nights in their lineups. Nuts & Bolts now had far more competition, as audiences began to follow specific DJs or music genres rather than sticking to one or two favourite haunts.

Profits were down and the lease at 277 Victoria came up for renewal in 1987; as none of Frank Cutajar’s existing businesses were thriving at the time, he closed the All-Star Eatery and moved Nuts & Bolts to 3 Gould in 1988, morphing it with Showbiz, where the club faded over time.

Heymes went on to bartend at The Copa and then to manage 1990s alt-club the Lizard Lounge, where he worked with Brown, McPherson, Paul Talan and other core staff.

The basement and ground floor of 277 Victoria St. remained empty for some time and became a Second Cup location after construction from 1988-90 added five more storeys to the office building. Later, with an eye towards development of Yonge-Dundas Square and the surrounding area, there were plans in place to demolish the building and build a 45-floor hotel. Today, 277 Victoria is home to Toronto Public Health, housing a variety of offices and departments.

Upstairs at 3 Gould Street, the former club space went on to house a variety of retailers before Salad King restaurant expanded to two floors. The heritage building at Yonge and Gould was destroyed in a fire on Jan. 3 of this year. It has since been demolished.

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