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

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

BY: DENISE BENSON

Club: Boa Café, 25 Bellair

Years in operation: 1989-1998

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

At the story’s centre lies Rony Hitti.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Boa Café layout.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Article originally published 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 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 December 4, 2012 by The Grid online (thegridto.com).

With the help of two rare DJ mixes, we revisit the early-‘80s Yonge Street club that provided Toronto’s gay community with a safe haven and showcased cutting-edge dance-music sounds, before the spectre of AIDS brought the party to a close.

BY: DENISE BENSON

Club: Stages, 530 Yonge

Years in operation: 1977-1984

History: The northwest corner of Yonge and Breadalbane was once occupied by the Hotel Breadalbane. In 1945, the Bolter family purchased the hotel and would transform the downstairs of 530 Yonge into The Parkside Tavern. The Bolters also owned The St. Charles Tavern, at 488 Yonge. By the mid-1960s, both taverns were known to be gay bars.

At that point in history, gay nightlife in Toronto was still very much underground. It was common for the heterosexual owners of gay bars to be contemptuous of their clientele. This seems to have been the situation at The Parkside, a dingy beer hall largely frequented by a daytime crowd. The Parkside’s owners allowed police to regularly spy on patrons in the washrooms, waiting to nab men engaged in any sort of sexual acts. Arrests were made, and the practice continued throughout the 1970s, even as gay activists organized leafleting campaigns and called for boycotts of the bar.

These conflicts were characteristic of the time. During the mid-to-late-1970s, Yonge Street was the main artery of Toronto gay social life (it would shift to Church in the mid-1980s). Those looking to dance could hit a number of spots near Yonge and Wellesley, like The Manatee, The Quest, Katrina’s, Club David’s, The Maygay (later Charly’s), and Cornelius, which sat above biker bar The Gasworks. By 1977, there were even two gay-owned bars in the area: The Barn, opened by Janko Naglic at 418 Church, and small cruise bar Dudes, opened by Roger Wilkes, a founder of the York University Homophile Association, and his partner David Payne in an alley just behind The Parkside.

While there were lots of options to dance and cruise, Yonge and its surrounding streets were not necessarily safe for queer people. Not only did the police frequently harass gay hangouts (most notoriously during the 1981 bathhouse raids), gay men and lesbians were all-too-often physically attacked.

“Those were the days when, on Halloween, people would throw eggs and ink at drag queens,” says Arnie Kliger, the man who would open Stages. “It also wasn’t particularly safe for gays to walk around the side streets.”

Kliger had both safety and glamour in mind when he worked with partner Stephen Cohen to open after-hours gay disco Stages. Its location, above The Parkside, had housed numerous clubs since the late-’60s, among them The August Club, Mama Cooper’s, The Milkbar, Quasimodo, and Bimbo’s.

Influenced largely by New York gay and after-hours clubs like The Saint, Studio 54, and 12 West, Kliger and Cohen chose to open an unlicensed dance club where music, dancing, and men would be the focus. There was nothing like it in Toronto at the time.

Stages’ doors opened at 12:01 a.m. on January 1, 1977. People lined up to begin the new year in this new disco that would raise the bar for late-night dancing in Toronto.

“Many of the straight-owned clubs were rundown, the owners didn’t care, and just wanted to make a buck,” recalls DJ/producer Barry Harris. “Charly’s upstairs at the St. Charles Tavern was a good example of that. The gay crowd accepted it for years as gay clubs were still somewhat taboo, but eventually stopped supporting them.

“Stages was opened by an owner who appreciated good sound, good quality everything, and took care of his customers.”

Courtesy of Andrée Emond.

Why it was important: “We wanted to offer a different late-night experience, and take the whole party to a higher, better level,” says Kliger of his venture with Cohen (who would depart a few years after the Stages’ opening to pursue his main interests in design and architecture).

Kliger was committed to creating an experience as good as—or better than—those he had at the New York and San Francisco clubs he frequented. When patrons made it through the line that ran up the stairs to Stages, they turned left, paid a small cover (generally $5-$8) and walked in to a sizable but intimate rectangular room with a large wooden dancefloor in the middle. At the far end was a long bar that sold juice, water, and oodles of Perrier. The bar was adorned with bouquets of flowers and trays of fresh fruit, while bartenders would also pull out boxes of percussive instruments—tambourines, bongos, maracas—for customers to play. On the east and west walls, overlooking the dancefloor, were two built-in bleachers that ascended almost to the ceiling. They were deep and upholstered, with huge custom cushions adding to the comfort.

“Arnie Kliger was the best bar manager Toronto ever had,” DJ/producer Paul Grace tells me. “Arnie wanted a space where he would be comfortable and happy partying—one that was safe, where there were no problems. He set up the club so people could relax.”

Photo by Terry Robson, courtesy of Arnie Kliger.

Kliger created membership cards for Stages, and hired former policeman Bob Bush, nicknamed Gloves, to keep potential troublemakers out.

“Gloves was an ex-London bobby, and he was our sole security man,” Kliger says. “He could take care of 10 guys trying to come up that stairway. In the entire time Stages was open, there was never a problem inside—no fights, nothing. I think that speaks volumes.

“We wanted people to have a safe place when they came in with their friends, all twisted and bent,” Kliger adds. “They knew that once they got off of Yonge Street and through those doors, they were secure to do whatever they wanted—party, take their shirt off, play a drum, whatever. Nobody came there for an hour; they stayed till morning. Most of our clientele carried sunglasses.”

Stages ran Fridays, Saturdays, and Sundays, with doors generally opening at 11 p.m. and music heard until 6 a.m. or later. The 600-capacity club attracted large, loyal crowds, primarily of gay men, but also lesbians and straight folks attracted to the music and vibe.

“Stages was the only club I had ever heard of at the time that was mixed, gay and straight,” recalls Harris, an occasional customer who would later fill in as a guest DJ there. “I believe this was unusual, but was also something that made Stages very ‘chic.’”

“Fridays were definitely more straight, or mixed, but Stages was a place that was very ‘tolerant’ on any night, sort of setting up for a sensibility the Twilight Zone carried through,” recalls musician, producer and photographer Don Pyle, a Stages regular for years after his sister introduced him to the club in 1979.

“More than tolerant, Stages had a slightly decadent feel because it was night people and pretty sexual on the dancefloor, with all orientations having fun.”

Photo by Terry Robson, courtesy of Arnie Kliger.

Club people flocked to Stages for many reasons, with its stellar sound and lighting high on the list.

“The lights came from New York’s Times Square Lighting,” says Kliger. “I couldn’t afford [renowned sound designer] Richard Long, but I copied his music systems.”

“Stages was one of those magical clubs you just had to experience,” states Paul Grace. “It’s still my favourite club, and that includes [clubs in] New York. It was relatively small, but had a killer soundsystem and great lights. There were these lovely big scoop speakers for bass that you could actually crawl into. I knew guys who would, and then they’d trip on the bass all night.”

“On the dancefloor, it was like a nice, warm fuzzy blanket because you were cocooned in the lights and the music,” recalls Richard “Bambi” McNicoll, a Stages lighting tech from 1982.

“The speakers completely surrounded you. Stages was intimate and had sound that could have been in a club three times its size. The lighting was also far ahead of its time. Where most club lighting systems were pretty static and the fixtures stayed where they were, what made Stages so unique was that you could change the light show every week—and that’s what I did.”

Photo by Terry Robson, courtesy of Arnie Kliger.

McNicoll, who came to Stages after working lights at Charly’s, was shown the ropes by lighting woman Andrée Emond. A veteran of venues including Rock ‘n’ Roll Heaven, Emond worked at Stages from 1980 to 1983, brought in by one of her best friends, legendary Toronto DJ Greg Howlett. Emond and McNicoll would squeeze themselves into Stages’ tiny booth, working to create energy and mood directly beside DJs including Howlett, Wally MacDonald and, later, Paul Grace.

Emond recalls taping up her fingers to work the many toggle switches on Stages’ vertical lighting board, built into the wall. The DJ booth was directly on the edge of Stages’ dancefloor, with nothing but wire fencing separating crew from crowd. Five mirror balls were clustered in the dancefloor’s centre.

“The square dancefloor had a fairly low ceiling—pin spots, spinners and strobe lights were set above and on a suspended industrial grid that covered it,” says Emond. “But it was the Christmas lights and the Kelly controller that blew me away. There were at least 1,500 hundred lights that could be changed to provide rows of basic colours.

“The crowd would scream with excitement when those blasts of bright light came perfectly timed with the music. I learned not to be afraid of the dark, and to let music flow through my hands at Stages. Greg and Wally’s music, mixes, and effects provided all of my cues.”

Photo by Terry Robson, courtesy of Arnie Kliger.

Stages, as all the people I interviewed tell me, was largely defined by its music. The crowds were deep into new sounds, and they were educated by some of the greatest dance-music pioneers this city has ever produced.

“The two DJs who played Stages for years were Greg Howlett and Wally MacDonald, both very good, with very different styles,” says Grace, who danced at Stages during the years when he himself was DJing at venues including Cornelius, the CN Tower’s Sparkles discotheque, and Yorkville’s Bellair Café.

“Wally played lots of weird shit—he liked to wake the crowd up all the time—whereas Greg was the master of the continuous mix. He’d start at 11 o’clock, slowly build the tempo up, and by 4 a.m. he’d be around 140bpm, then start to bring it down. By 5 a.m., he was down below 120 bpm, getting sleazy. It was very trippy and wonderful.”

MacDonald—who DJed during Stages’ earliest years, as did his brother Larry on occasion—was also adored for his impeccable mixing, late-night sleaze sets and devotion to underground disco.

“Wally loved to twist songs around and inside out,” says Barry Harris. “He also used a reel-to-reel tape machine to fuck with people’s heads by using the delay playback, bringing the echo in and out. In 1979, DJ mixers were just mixers; there was no delay, reverb, echo or effects at the time. It was very difficult to even find a mixer to buy, so Wally was doing a lot of really innovative and creative DJing.”

MacDonald was also a pioneering remix artist. He reworked songs like Antonio Rodriguez’s “La Bamba” and Harlow’s “Take Off” into epic extended versions. MacDonald’s masterful remix of Amanda Lear’s “Follow Me” sounds fresh to this day.

“Wally influenced me greatly during my entire DJ and remix career,” says Harris, who started DJing in 1983 at Dudes (whose address, coincidentally, is now home to pro-audio shop Saved By Technology).

“I remember one Sunday, Wally played “At Midnight” by T- Connection,” Harris continues. ”He was playing a reel-to-reel tape version that he had re-edited himself. He extended the big percussion intro and played bits and pieces of ‘I Will Survive’ intro overtop. Now, something like that sounds like no big deal, but at the time, no DJ used to remix anything like this—they simply played the records.

“Another time he played “Heroes” by Big Ben Tribe, then somehow mixed into the original David Bowie version. Brilliant! By the end, the whole crowd started applauding. I had never seen an audience applaud a DJ.”

MacDonald would bounce between clubs as a resident DJ, also playing venues like Sugars, 18 East, The Albany, and Wonder Bar.

Greg Howlett would soon become Stages’ main music man. This former resident DJ at Le Tube was known to play joyful, uplifting dance music, with a lean towards dancefloor classics and disco edits, like “Souvenirs” by Voyage and Yvonne Elliman’s “Love Pains.”

“Greg was our house DJ for at least five years,” enthuses Kliger. “Greg was the star. He had such a following, and an amazing ability to read the crowd and do it right. I trusted him 9,000 per cent.”

“I loved listening to Greg, and I try to emulate him to this day,” offers Grace. “He would play for hours, and you’d never know when one record was going into another. He was so smooth, and really worked at that. He constantly had a new set of stuff he’d play each night.”

DJ Greg Howlett. Photo courtesy of Andrée Emond.

Andrée Emond shares a favourite example of Howlett’s confidence behind the decks.

“I will never forget one evening with Greg. The crowd was particularly bored, so he turned off the turntable and stared at them. They stood there, shocked. Once the drone came to a complete stop, he played their favourite song of the day. Everyone went crazy and the rest of the night was amazing.”

Both Howlett and MacDonald were trendsetters, but took different paths as dance music began to splinter.

“The big ‘disco crash’ occurred around 1979,” Harris explains. “Dance music was fragmenting, and everyone was very confused as to where club music was going. It was the beginning of a new decade, new attitude. New wave was now cool, and disco was not. So the ‘cool’ Stages people followed the trend; my perception is they followed Wally, who really embraced the new sound as a fearless risk-taker. Greg did not follow the new sound, and would not—no way. He was going to stick to what he felt was ‘gay music.’ Greg stuck to his guns, and took a lot of shit and attitude from a lot of people.”

“Wally MacDonald was the only gay club DJ in town playing new dance music that had come out of post-punk or early electronic scenes,” confirms Pyle, author of Toronto punk–history book Trouble in the Camera Club.

“Some songs I distinctly remember being very excited to hear in a gay club were ‘Nowhere Girl’ by B-Movie, ‘I Travel’ by Simple Minds and ‘Numbers’ by Kraftwerk. ‘Numbers’ was always a very late-night track, with the breakdown at the end being used to shift the mood.”

“Stages was an amazing dance club because of the DJs, and when it came to mixing, no one was better than Wally,” enthuses Lena K, former bartender at restaurants like Le Pigale, Cornelius above Gasworks, and a regular at Stages for most of its existence, especially on the eclectic Sunday nights. “I still feel the electricity run through me when I think about Wally’s mixes.”

As the disco-vs.-new-wave battles played out on Stages’ dancefloor during the early ’80s, MacDonald was let go from the club, and then notably rehired in January of 1983.

DJ Wally MacDonald. Photo courtesy of Lorne Goldblum.

Stages had a devoted following. Like all the best nightclubs, it fostered both a feeling and a community.

“I knew what I wanted to see, and have people feel: happy, happy, happy,” says Kliger. “And they were. We had the tambourines, the fan dancers, the whole works going. I made the place and gave people somewhere to express themselves, but the crowd created it for themselves.

“I’m sure some of the drugs contributed to this”—poppers and MDA were the main substances of the day—”but there was a feeling of membership, camaraderie, friendship, love. We fed a feeling, and it worked.”

Pyle also fondly recalls the club’s festive vibe. “It was a very celebratory space. Everyone really got down. I recall men in skirts, cheerleader outfits, fan dancers. There was so much excitement and anticipation.”

Kliger tells the tale of an evening when uniforms were especially prominent: “There was a fetish party one night on Church Street, with everything: guys dressed up in police uniforms, there were bras and garter belts, transsexuals, you name it. We had very heavy theatre-type dry ice at Stages—we didn’t use the cheap smoke—and it creates a very heavy steam. We would pump that place so full of dry-ice smoke that you couldn’t see yourself, with gigantic fans that would suck the air out onto Yonge.

“This night was in January and, when I turned the fans on, some people on the street thought the building was on fire. Toronto Fire responded quickly, came running up the stairs, and I happened to be at the front door. I looked down the stairs and said to Bob, the bouncer, ‘Don’t charge them. They’ve got great outfits.’ I got pushed up against the wall with an axe by a fireman telling me to get out of the way, and then I realized my mistake. Greg, being as sharp as he was, put on the song ‘Fire in my Heart.’”

Lighting man McNicoll also recalls a strategic use of the dry ice machine.

“It wasn’t used all that much, because proper dry ice costs a lot. Back during the days of ‘It’s Raining Men,’ somebody decided to splurge. The dry ice came out over the dancefloor through dryer hoses and billowed down. As soon as it did, everybody opened umbrellas and started dancing around with them. Stages was one of those mad places where every weekend, something happened.”

Photo by Terry Robson, courtesy of Arnie Kliger.

Who else played/worked there: Paul Grace came onboard at Stages after a young Chris Sheppard had brought more new wave to Fridays and a stretch of Sundays.

“Fridays were fairly mixed, a bit trendy, and eventually became more alternative in music and everything else,” explains Kliger. “That’s where Chris came in, later. He ran the Friday switchover to alternative music and club kids in crazy outfits—’Rock Lobster’ and all that kind of stuff. I just didn’t understand it because I’m hardcore gay, but I learned.”

Kliger did understand the allure of late-night socializing, and was equally at home mingling with the owners of clubs including Le Tube and Twilight Zone, as well as TIFF (then still known as the Festival of Festivals) party planners. Stages, in fact, hosted some of the film fest’s earliest parties, with appearances from celebs like Tom Cruise, Peter O’Toole, Richard Chamberlain, and Kathleen Turner.

Tina Turner also paid the club a visit, as did longtime gay favourite Eartha Kitt.

“Eartha Kitt happened to be playing at the Royal York’s Imperial Room—it was at the time that ‘Where Is My Man?’ was big—and I did everything I could to get her up to Stages,” shares Kliger. “We sent flowers, notes, a bottle of scotch, and begged her to come up. We sent a limousine to the Royal York and, sure enough, she bit. Greg had the back-up tracks going and we had a microphone ready, even though she wasn’t engaged to perform. She loved it so much she grabbed the mic and did the song.”

Stages’ staff tended to be just as attractive as the celebs they served.

“The staff and family at Stages were incredible, along with being some of the beautiful men you ever saw,” says Emond, citing people like bartender/manager Andy Armstrong and cashier John Bannerman.

“It was a casting call,” agrees Kliger. “We wanted to have the best-looking people with their shirts off. The bartenders were more than bartenders; they were friendly, they were happy, and, in the middle of the night, if it got hot—and it would get really hot in there—we’d send them out on the dancefloor with trays of watermelon and cantaloupe, oranges, ice, popsicles and water. Clubs didn’t do that.”

Stages bartender Brent Storey, who would later be an integral staffer at gay bar Boots,  was also one of Toronto’s most avid of fan dancers.

“There were a lot of fan dancers at Stages,” says Grace. “When it was busy, they would dance around the edges and, as the night got later, and people started to leave, these guys would start taking over the dancefloor, until finally, the whole floor was full of fan players.”

The fan dancers were a key part of Stages’ core family, and certainly helped to establish the club as decidedly gay at a time when more sexually ambiguous alternative clubs, like Voodoo and Nuts & Bolts, appeared on the scene.

“There was no shortage of places to dance, but nothing could touch Stages—Stages was like finding Mecca,” says Lena K, who now works in the legal field, specializing in intellectual property law. “Although I had gone to other dance clubs, there was no other place where I felt as safe and blissfully free to just be me. I made real friends there, most of whom have been lost to AIDS, but a handful remain and are still friends over 30 years later. That club brought us together every weekend, and that’s some kind of special thing.”

Greg Howlett’s calling card. Courtesy of Andrée Emond.

What happened to it: By 1982, there was talk of GRID, a.k.a. gay-related immune deficiency, later to be known as AIDS. Many in the gay community began to die in this time of great uncertainty.

“The AIDS crisis was just beginning, and people were really afraid,” shares McNicoll, who would later work the lights at clubs including Boots and Chaps. “We were losing a lot of artists and friends, and nobody really knew what was going on, so there was a lot of fear. I think that really had a detrimental effect on club life as a whole. There was a tremendous loss.”

Both Greg Howlett (who would go on to heat dancefloors at clubs including Komrads and Chaps) and Wally MacDonald passed away from HIV-related complications in the 1990s.

“I made and lost many friends at Stages,” says Emond, who later worked the lights at both The Copa and The Diamond, and is now a web developer and teacher. “I still miss the wonderful people I met, and was honoured to play with during that special time. The memories are bittersweet.”

But Stages also closed because Kliger felt it was time.

“It started running out of steam,” he offers. “I felt that what could be done there had already been done, and I was out of themes and ideas. I wanted to take the Stages family out on a high note, so I made the decision that it was best to put a period at the end of a sentence.”

Stages held a final New Year’s Eve party on December 31, 1983 and closed in early 1984. Within weeks, Kliger was hired by the Chrysalis group to transform the former Jarvis Tavern into gay club Bar 101. (Years later, the same space would become Tazmanian Ballroom, home of the infamous Rock & Roll Fag Bar.) Kliger later managed venues including The Copa, Bemelman’s, and the Bellair Café before moving into the hotel business.

Barry Harris would follow Kliger to DJ at both Bar 101 and The Copa, before becoming a resident at Charles Khabouth’s Stilife. He later had a huge production and remix career as half of both Kon Kan and Thunderpuss. More recently, Harris has returned to his rock roots and is working on an as-yet unnamed project.

Paul Grace also became an in-demand producer/remixer, particularly as a member of Boomtang Boys. He then turned his talents to scoring for film and television, was a music consultant for the TV show Queer As Folk, and maintains a home studio.

Before all of this, Grace partnered with Brent Storey and David Strand to re-open the Stages space as Avalon in 1984. About a year later, the upstairs of 530 Yonge briefly reopened as Changes. Both it and The Parkside Tavern below closed in March of 1986 to make way for a Burger King. The building is now a Sobeys Express. [Addendum: the Sobey’s has since closed, with the location listed for retail opportunities.]

Thank you to interviewees Andrée Emond, Arnie Kliger, Barry Harris, Don Pyle, Lena K, Paul Grace, and Richard McNicoll, and to Carlos Mondesir, Eric Robertson, and James Vandervoort. Special mention to Lorne Goldblum for the DJ mixes and to the late Rick Bébout for his Promiscuous Affections documentation of gay Toronto social life.

The post Then & Now: Stages 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 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 16, 2012 by The Grid online (TheGridTO.com).

In this instalment of her ongoing nightlife-history series, Denise Benson looks back at the first club creation of Toronto nightlife magnate Charles Khabouth. At just 22 years old, he opened Club Z in 1984, but its groundbreaking legacy lives on to this day.

BY: DENISE BENSON

Club: Club Z, 11A St. Joseph Street

Years in operation: 1984-1989

History: Tracing the history of this city’s nightlife tells us much about its physical transformation and urban development. Nowhere is this more obvious than at the corner of Yonge and St. Joseph. Here, we’ve recently seen a few significant buildings largely demolished as part of their ongoing metamorphosis into Five Condos.

I had often wondered about the physical similarities between the original red brick buildings at 610 Yonge, 5 and 11 St. Joseph, and 15 St. Nicholas, but only recently noticed the plaque on 11’s easterly side. It turns out that moving and storage company Rawlinson Cartage built all of them, with the warehouse space of 11 St. Joseph constructed between 1895 and 1898.

Gay Torontonians who socialized in the 1970s and early ‘80s will remember 11A St. Joseph as popular all-ages discotheque Club Manatee, a three-level spot where the DJ booth was in the bow of a boat hanging above the crowd.

In September of 1984, directly after the Manatee’s closing, a 22-year-old Charles Khabouth debuted as a nightlife entrepreneur by opening Club Z in that very location. Now known as the CEO of INK Entertainment, whose many impressive properties include The Guvernment, La Société Bistro and the Bisha hotel/condo project, Khabouth started with just $30,000 and a desire to fuse his love of music, fashion and dance.

At the time, unlicensed (hence all-ages) after hours clubs were more common. Twilight Zone had opened in 1980 and was a bold new force on Richmond Street; Kongo Club (later Club Focus) would soon open on Hagerman; and Club Z neighbours Le Tube and Voodoo drew large fashion-conscious crowds, both gay and straight, with blends of new wave and alt disco.

“Back in those days, most nightclubs were limited to the confines of hotels,” recalls Khabouth. “In the early ’80s, the St. Joseph Street area was known to be the more underground social hub of nightlife. That area at night had an energy and vibrancy about it—an aura that you couldn’t get in hotel clubs. It had a bohemian feel, which is why it appealed to me.”

Khabouth describes Club Z’s aesthetic as “Do it yourself industrial design,” with much of the décor reportedly purchased at Canadian Tire. The club was bare bones, dark, but splashed with neon paint and squiggly lasers projected onto screens. It was multi-level, with two dancefloor/stage areas, high ceilings and a raised DJ booth accessed by a ladder. The back of the club contained a juice bar and video games like Pac-Man.

Club Z’s soundsystem was huge, and the space was reportedly licensed for 700-plus, but attendance was dauntingly low at first—until Khabouth rented a tiger to build buzz.

“After only being open for two months, and having no budget for advertising a Halloween event, I had to be creative,” he explains. “I had heard about a zoo up north that had tigers, and before I knew it, I had one delivered to the club. My office at the time had a large window and was street level, so it made for the perfect observation space. It caused quite the commotion.”

That’s an understatement. The tiger smashed the window in the early morning, and though still confined by a metal grille, it drew large crowds of people, the police, and the Humane Society. The incident made headlines and Club Z became a sensation.

Charles Khabouth was only 22 years old when he opened Club Z in 1984.

Why it was important: Club Z was one of Toronto’s first clubs to feature breaking sounds in dance music, with house mixed alongside freestyle, electro, early hip-hop and new wave. Khabouth himself took regular trips to New York, Detroit and Chicago “To hunt for new sounds in record shops.”

Music was central to creating an atmosphere that brought together a diverse downtown crowd Friday-through-Sunday, with Sundays a dedicated gay night that included drag shows.

“The crowd was very urban and eclectic,” recalls Toronto house music bricklayer Dino Demopoulos, who got his DJ start at Z, playing with twin brother Terry on occasional Fridays.

“There were a lot of alternative types there, the kind of freaks that you only had in the ’80s,” he says lovingly.

“During the Charles years Club Z was very hip downtown,” agrees journalist, DJ and then-Starsound Records employee Johnbronski, a regular at the club who later tended to its sound system.

“Gay, straight, new wave, hip-hop, disco, black, white, Chinese, Indian—it didn’t matter because the music came first. Remember, no booze was sold; it was just a big warehouse type space for dancing to some serious bass. The shared love of hip-hop and dance music culture was a very big part. You really needed to have an ear to the streets to know what was up back then.

“It was a place where a teenager could escape,” Johnbronski adds. “You’d sneak out of your house at midnight and head downtown, meeting and making new friends that you’d only see between 1-to-6am on weekends. Teachers and school friends thought I was making up stories about an all-ages dance club that opened at 11pm.”

Khabouth, who could often be found by the club’s front door, built his own career foundations at Z. He’s clearly proud of it to this day.

“I believe that Club Z pioneered a whole new music direction and a generation of club culture in Toronto. That’s why I am still looking for the latest sounds, and still find it crucial to invest in the best sound systems. Music is everything, and it’s the soul of any club.”

Club Z’s rise, in fact, can be heavily attributed to its star DJ: JC of the Sunshine Sound Crew, a Z resident from 1985-1988, long before he helmed the Phoenix’ famous Planet Vibe Sundays.

“Club Z was really all about JC,” says Demopoulos. “His talent put Z on the map because the club was known for having a shit-hot DJ playing all the best electronic music in Toronto, in my opinion. Though he didn’t play that much house, he covered a lot of ground musically, from Kraftwerk and Alexander Robotnik to New York electro and freestyle stuff like Debbie Deb’s ‘Look Out Weekend,‘ and just a lot of great club music like Denise Edwards, Joyce Sims, Nu Shooz, Madonna, and Colonel Abrams.

“JC was also the first DJ that we saw who had a drum machine—a Roland 808—up in the booth, and he would do much more than just play records. He was super professional at what he did, the most technically perfect DJ we had ever heard, so he really raised the bar for what a DJ could and should do in a club. He was that good.”

Dino & Terry were Club Z regulars, not only listening to and learning from JC, but also throwing occasional parties there and guest DJing alongside Dave Ahmad during his Friday night tenure between 1986-87.

“We’d been DJing at house parties, school parties and things like that,” says Demopoulos; “But this was our first real club, playing the kind of music that really changed our lives and put all the rest of our music career things in motion.

“At the time, pretty much only the Twilight Zone was playing underground house from Chicago, Detroit techno and New York stuff, and we were pretty crazy collectors of anything in the genre. We would take all the latest and greatest white labels and hard to find stuff to play at Club Z on Fridays. A fun story: we used to make sure to pour very stiff drinks for Dave Ahmad so that he would get really drunk and let us play for longer. He was so cool, and really progressive with the underground music at the time. Although JC would play some underground house stuff, Dave and us played a lot more of it.”

As for Ahmad himself, he’s one of Toronto’s true dance music pioneers. From 1981-2000, he hosted a variety of programs on CKLN 88.1FM, most notably influential Sunday afternoon program Dave’s Dance Music. He also DJed at Toronto hotspots including The Copa, Twilight Zone and Fresh.

“We played mainly house, but threw in some heavier electro and some wave; Kate Bush’s ‘Running Up That Hill‘ was a big one then,” Ahmad recalls of his Fridays at Z. “The crowd loved their music, but took time to rock out to anything new.

“I remember breaking out ‘Erotic City‘ by Prince there. Half of the crowd went nuts while the others didn’t know what hit them. [Dancer/choreographer] Steve Bolton was in the crowd, and ran up to the booth. I showed him the cut—it had just come in at Starsound that night. So the crowd was not all trendsetters, but they loved their music. Hot clothes too!”

Charles Khabouth (far left) and friends at Club Z

Who else played there: Other Club Z residents included electro, freestyle and new wave DJs Chico and Sherwin, who also opened popular after hours spot Amadeus right around the corner.

“I used to make my pilgrimage down to Z to hear Sherwin,” says Johnbronski. “I loved the way he mixed stuff like ‘I Love You‘ by Yello with Pet Shop Boys and Depeche Mode—those were essentially house beat records before house was even a concept. He was ahead of the curve on that, and mixed on three turntables, taking pieces from here and there, and layering in acapellas.”

International guest DJs and performers at Club Z included Grandmaster Flash, Newcleus, De La Soul, and Joyce Sims.

Also interesting to note is that famed New York nightclub operator and restaurateur Jeffrey Jah got his start producing parties at Club Z.

11A St. Joseph Street today

What happened to it: Charles Khabouth sold Club Z to Warren Webley, father of Sunshine Sound Crew and owner of Sunshine Sound and Lighting, in 1987.

“I had opened up Stilife and needed to focus strictly on that,” says Khabouth of the trendsetting, sophisticated spot he opened at Richmond and Duncan in 1986. “Although I was still involved with Club Z, it broke my heart to sell it.”

While DJ JC continued to play at Club Z, a lot of the house heads switched their allegiances fully to Twilight Zone.

Johnbronski, who began to work for Warren Webley as a DJ, sound tech and occasional doorman, recalls that his boss—also owner of Club Focus on Hagerman Street—closed Club Z’s doors for a period. It was re-opened as the new Club Focus in 1989. By that time, the area had become much rougher, with vandalism, muggings and overdoses all associated with the St Joseph Street clubs. Racist and homophobic skinheads were also a problem.

A young man named Jamie Withers was, in fact, stabbed and killed inside Club Z in 1989. His death is said to have prompted Webley to close Club Z and later re-open the space as Focus.

“My memory is that the fights and stuff were mushrooming and that I wanted to stay away from there,” says Johnbronski. “It was at a time when Toronto was beginning to go through a real urban expansion. I mean, think about it—it’s Toronto after hours, it’s near Yonge Street and we’re talking before Richmond and the whole club district existed. That area attracted a lot of everybody.”

11A St. Joseph later became dark after hours spot Playground. In the late ‘90s, Steve Ireson and partners cleaned the space up and opened it as The Pad. Between 2002 and 2004, 11 St. Joseph was redeveloped for residential use. It’s now marketed as Eleven Residencies.

As for Charles Khabouth and INK, they recently launched Chroma inside The Guvernment. Their newest nightclub, Cube, will open at the end of February, replacing INK’s Ultra club at 312 Queen West. Many Torontonians will most strongly associate this address with the BamBoo, a legendary restaurant and live music venue that was at the heart of Queen West for decades.

Thank you to all who contributed to this piece, including Paul E. Lopes, Hal Wong, Steve Ireson, Carlos Mondesir and Chris Torella. Sadly, despite much searching, very little photographic evidence of Club Z could be found. Please let us know if you have photos!

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

Article originally published November 16, 2011 by The Grid online (TheGridTO.com).

In this instalment of her nightclub-history series Then & Now, Denise Benson looks back to a time when Toronto nightlife orbited around Yonge and St. Joseph thanks to early ‘80s after-hours haunt Voodoo, which brought goths, gays and fashionistas together—only to be brought down, ironically, by Jack Layton.

BY: DENISE BENSON

Club: Voodoo, 9 St. Joseph

Years in operation: 1981-1985

History: To discuss this deeply influential alternative after-hours club space is to delve into a history of Toronto nightlife that was anchored around St. Joseph Street and the surrounding area from the late 1970s through the mid-’80s. It’s a history of emerging sounds and fashions, diverse sexualities and late-night community—all played out in a city centre then becoming increasingly residential.

Before Voodoo opened in August of 1981, the original Domino Klub on Isabella was home to punks, rockers and gays alike; there were boozecans along Yonge (most notably on the corner of Maitland Street, above vital clothing store South Pacific); and the addresses 5-9 St. Joseph housed rock bar The Forge at street level, with disco club Bellows above. St. Joseph was a key street for Toronto’s growing gay community; The Forge space became famed gay dance club Katrina’s, with neighbouring homo and mixed social spaces including Le Tube, St. Joseph Café, Stages and Club Manatee.

Against this backdrop and above Katrina’s, Michael Gallow opened unlicensed, after-hours dance club Voodoo. He and DJ Dave Allen had already been involved in promoting Domino Klub and “a series of after-hours uptown warehouse events,” but wanted “to create our own environment for the emerging fashion/music culture of the late ’70s and early ’80s. The theme of the club was—as stated on the brass plaque at street level—‘Metal Music in the Modern Jungle.’”

JenniferG, JCAndrew, Davidson. Photo courtesy of Jennifer Gellatly.

Voodoo was open Friday and Saturday nights from midnight to dawn, with occasional fashion shows, concerts and other special events taking place before the dancing began (or on different nights of the week). The approach was low budget, with most areas painted fully black amid a minimalist lighting system. No matter. The creative people who partied there—it may have been unlicensed, but plenty of patrons snuck in booze and other “party favours”—added colour to a club where the main door policy was “no blue jeans.”

Lighting man Danny Regan (left) with DJ Dave Allen at Voodoo. Photo courtesy of Roy Paul.

Why it was important: Voodoo opened at a time when most licensed bars closed at 1 a.m. and crackdowns on boozecans meant that late-night dancing was mainly limited to gay discos. Voodoo added greatly to the musical soundscape of the day and became a hub for the fashion-minded, sexually adventurous avant-garde. Internationally renowned shoe designer Patrick Cox was Voodoo’s first doorman/greeter and many staff members were immersed in new design and music forms.

“The uniqueness of Voodoo was its street-level vibe,” says owner Michael Gallow. “David Allen and Danny Regan [Voodoo’s lighting man] were part of the street scene in the neighbourhood and always kept everyone aware of happenings at the club. It was a very welcoming home for all those creative and fashion-forward individuals in the city. Many of the regulars were experimenting not only with their look, but their sexuality and relationships.”

Michael Sweenie and Isabel Moniz. Photo courtesy of Michael Sweenie.

“I was a Voodoo regular and the inclusive attitude of the place is what made me dream of opening my own bar or club,” says Michael Sweenie (pictured above getting ready for a night out), now owner of Andy Poolhall on College Street. “Your sexuality was not what defined you at Voodoo, just the love of music and an individual fashion style or sense. It was also the first place I ever saw with washrooms that were gender neutral; there were just as many guys doing their makeup in the mirror as girls.”

Voodoo was a key place to hear bold new sounds pouring out of Europe, America and Toronto itself. Music not heard on the radio had a home here.

“I think Voodoo really made dance clubs that came after more open musically,” says Sweenie. “It brought new wave, punk and the New Romantic scene into other clubs that usually played disco only.”

Michael Scott. Photo courtesy of Jennifer Gellatly.

“Voodoo revived the post-bar dance scene and laid the groundwork for many of the late night places that came along,” Gallow summarizes, mentioning Biorhythm, Catwalk and Twilight Zone, of which he speaks highly.

“I always think of the Twilight Zone as the yin to our yang,” says Gallow. “They helped introduce the emerging New York dance scene to the diverse people who were settling in Toronto from around the world. Our focus at Voodoo was very European and fashion-driven.”

DJs, such as myself, who came up playing in the alternative clubs of the mid/late-’80s owe a great deal to Voodoo and its legacy.

Ryan Carleton and Danielle Gellatly. Photo courtesy of Ryan Carleton.

“Voodoo was the club that opened my mind to both the culture and music that was exploding in the underground at that time,” agrees Iain McPherson a.k.a. DJ Iain, a Voodoo regular who brought that influence with him as he got his start spinning at 1980s alt-club Nuts & Bolts. “Voodoo was groundbreaking and unique. It was unlike any of the mainstream clubs of its time or even the more ‘traditional’ underground clubs that followed.”

Todd Trepanier. Photo courtesy of Tracy Graham.

Who played there: “Dave Allen was the spiritual soul of Voodoo,” says Michael Gallow of the DJ who shaped the club’s soundscape. Gallow may have purchased much of the club’s music—at the original Record Peddler, natch—but Allen broke ground with what he chose to highlight. He didn’t mix the songs—unlike jocks at Biorhythm and Twilight Zone, for example, who beat-matched—but Allen played the music first.

“In my mind and, no doubt, all those who were fortunate enough to experience it, Voodoo was the first truly modern, post-disco ‘underground’ music venue,” writes McPherson.

Rob Wheaton, Jennifer Gellantly, Stephen Butson. Photo courtesy of Jennifer Gellatly.

“Dave Allen was a truly fearless DJ. One of my favourite memories is the week that Simple Minds’ New Gold Dream album came out. Dave got on the mic at the height of prime time and announced, ‘This is the new Simple Minds album,’ put on side A and let it play straight through—while he joined everyone on the dancefloor. When the side came to an end, he ran back up the booth, flipped over the record, made a typically cryptic announcement, ‘Side B!,’ and played it through non-stop. The dancefloor remained packed throughout. Such was the adventurous, wonderfully musically open-minded nature of the crowd. This was a special venue at a special time in music. And we couldn’t get enough of it.”

Tracy, Dave, Danny. Photo courtesy of Tracy Graham.

Voodoo also hosted fashion shows by Parachute Clothing, concerts promoted by The Garys (including A Certain Ratio, John Cooper Clarke, DNA, and The Professionals), and even plays like the Dora Award-winning musical Sid’s Kids. Cutting-edge guests often visited the club.

“We had an excellent relationship with visiting bands and hosted great parties with Duran Duran, Spandau Ballet, Adam and the Ants, New Order, Flock of Seagulls, and others,” recalls Gallow. “In that sense, Voodoo was a great symbiosis between the music and fashion biz.”

Sadly, despite the fact that CKLN 88.1FM broadcast Radio Voodoo live from the club for many months, I couldn’t locate any audio or video recordings to share.

Terri on New-Years Eve. Photo courtesy of Tracy Graham.

What happened to it: Voodoo closed its doors on February 2, 1985. The area had become increasingly residential and neighbours were unhappy with the late-night revelry. Many venues on St. Joseph faced fines, noise complaints and challenges over issues like not providing enough parking for customers.

“Interesting to note that our main adversary was Jack Layton, then the local Alderman,” says Gallow. “I understand his position in hindsight—he was acting on behalf of his constituents—but there were some acrimonious meetings about our existence. I felt that the energy that had driven the club was dissipating and it was better to go out on a high note.”

Gallow also opened trend-setting (and licensed) lounge/restaurant Century 66 at Yonge and Charles, and now owns marketing agency Benchmarx Data Services.

5 St. Joseph, November 2011, mid construction. Photo courtesy of Steve Ireson.

Soon after Voodoo’s close, 9 St. Joseph opened as Backstreet, which drew a similarly mixed clientele, while Katrina’s continued downstairs at 5 St. Joseph. These addresses later went on to house a number of gay and after-hours spots, including Colby’s, Brooklyn and 5ive, with Level 3 Fitness also holding the lease at number 9 for years. Today, the entire corner of Yonge and St. Joseph is under construction to become FIVE Condominiums.

“It is fascinating to see the space today,” Gallow says. “The huge metal structure securing the building’s facade is worthy of a photo essay. The whole district was zoned for condos back in 1984 and guess where we are today. I doubt anyone who buys there now will have been a nightly visitor back then, but how romantic a notion if they were.”

Thank you: to all who shared your thoughts and photos. Thanks also to Carlos Mondesir, David Heymes, Jill Cribbin, Kiki a.k.a. Kaos Theory, Steve Ireson and the members of Facebook group Voodoo Club Alumni for your input.

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