THE DEATH OF DISCO

A recent story in the New York newspaper The Village Voice grabbed my
attention. It was about a large New York dance club called Twilo,
which this summer lost a long battle with the city to remain open.

New York Mayor Rudy Giuliani has been attacking the city's dance clubs
in the name of "quality of life." A patron of Twilo died of a drug
overdose after leaving the club last July, and now the city has
succeeded in having Twilo's license to operate revoked. Not
coincidentally, Twilo's two biggest competitors, Limelight and The
Tunnel, have had their liquor licenses suspended by the state and also
appear to be on the way out.

These closings would leave a large gap in New York nightlife, which,
since Studio 54 opened in the '70s, has always boasted at least one
glitzy, high-profile mega-dance club. Now, there may be none, and with
Giuliani's hard line stance it's doubtful any promoter would attempt a
new venture in the near future.

In an ominous parallel to what is happening in New York City, federal
DEA agents have begun invoking a 1986 "crack house" statute all over
the country to interfere with venues that host the all-night dance
events labeled "raves."

(I'm not an expert, but it seems that the term "rave" is fairly
outdated, because each time we host a dance event at the Cat's Cradle,
I'm reminded by the organizers that this is "not a rave." At any rate,
the word "rave" is widely used to describe techno dance parties that
begin after midnight and often go on until late in the morning.)

DEA officials have identified what they believe to be a connection
between these "raves" and the use of certain drugs, especially one
called Ecstasy.

In two separate cases in Florida and New Orleans this year, federal
drug agents have charged club owners and promoters under the "crack
house" statute, which carries fines of up to $100,000 and a potential
20-year prison sentence. Even though not one piece of evidence has
been produced to suggest that the venue owners or promoters made
attempts to possess, manufacture, sell or otherwise distribute drugs,
both cases look grim for the defendants.

Although the "crack house" statute was designed to outlaw actual crack
houses, its meaning has been widened in this case. The feds' proof
that the venue owners had "intent to maintain a dwelling for the
purpose of selling drugs" includes a handful of glow sticks, a massage
table and some "overpriced bottles of water" that the DEA refers to as
drug paraphernalia.

Excuse me if I seem biased or naive, but that sounds like what I've
heard referred to on TV as "circumstantial evidence".

But it also sounds familiar.

Back about 10 years ago, I landed in a controversy -- well, rather,
the Cat's Cradle nightclub, which I manage and own some of, was in a
controversy. We hosted a hip-hop night with a DJ spinning dance music,
and afterwards the crowd was slow to disperse from the immediate area.
Half an hour after we had closed, the sidewalk in front of Cat's
Cradle, then in Chapel Hill, and the parking lots at nearby Hardee's
and University Square were still full of people.

It was a hot night, and eventually things got out of hand. There was
fighting, and some shots were fired. People were running every
which-way, and from minute to minute things were very confusing. A
battery of police cruisers came in, and eventually the crowd
dissipated. Walking out into our parking lot the next day, I wondered
how that could be the same place. There was not a trace of the
violence or the chaos from the night before. Birds chirped in
brilliant sunlight.

But later that afternoon, the building inspector appeared with a sign
that listed Cat's Cradle's legal capacity as 220 patrons -- down from
750!

Apparently news of our distasteful incident had spread quickly, and
someone had discovered wording in the town's commercial zoning code
that tied occupancy of an establishment to the number of on-site
parking places available (we had 57). This code had never been
enforced in Chapel Hill, but on that day, coincidentally, it was.

We fortunately enlisted the services of a crackerjack lawyer who in
two hours on the late afternoon of July 3 identified enough strange
back entrances in the town's parking laws to get our occupancy raised
back to 750. But we had learned a lesson about pushing town hall, and
the Cat's Cradle did not host another hip-hop DJ in that location.

For a venue to control everything that happens in and around it
before, during and after its hours of operation is a virtual
impossibility. If it weren't, there would be no theft in department
stores, and no one would drink Budweiser illegally in campsites at
Hanging Rock State Park. As Tunnel owner Peter Gatien points out, even
maximum security prisons have problems with drug use.

Certainly some people involved with clubs and raves don't have the
best of intentions. But the Drug Czar's solution of throwing a dragnet
over the whole culture seems like an unfair, unconstitutional example
of "profiling" that could injure many innocent people.

I hold no illusions about the greater importance of nightclubs. They
are what they are, and the world will not be that much different if
some of them cease to exist.

What is of some concern is the implication of these potential "crack
house" convictions of music venues. Clubs are easy targets because of
their dubious moral significance. But once certain people in positions
of authority get away with shutting down clubs -- on the basis that
various legal behaviors indicate participation in illegal activity --
it's only a matter of time before the federal "crack house" statute
will be tried out on other types of organizations.

Then we may all be at the whim of whatever task force is interested in
defining justice at the moment.

It's an old saying, but one that still rings true: Question
authority.