A POLITICAL PASTIME

On the eve of a high-profile coroner's inquest into Toronto's rave
scene -- considered the liveliest in North America -- promoters,
partiers and rave advocates are worried their culture won't get a fair
shake. After all, the city's police chief has already said raves are
'threatening the very fabric of Canadian life'

This weekend marked the first time in three years that Toronto's rave
scene, one of the largest in the world, threw no major events.

But promoters, partiers, and rave advocates, who are more used to
spinning records than they are reporters, probably had other things to
occupy their minds: For one, they're having to learn very fast just
how political their pastime can be.

In the past couple of weeks, they have been attacked publicly by a
media-savvy police chief and mayor, and behind the scenes, they've
found the city's large venue owners are now either too nervous or
under too much pressure to keep holding their events.

They are frustrated with the city's media, which they say have spread
a good deal of misinformation about raves, and this morning, they will
be under fire again, when a high-profile coroner's inquest starts
examining every nook and cranny of their culture.

Some advocates thought the inquest into the death of Allan Ho, a
21-year-old Ryerson University student who died last fall, would be a
chance to explain their position. But given the events of the last few
days -- in which Toronto police chief Julian Fantino asked Jean
Chretien out to a rave to see how they are "threatening the very
fabric of Canadian life," and Mel Lastman called for a halt to raves
on the CNE grounds -- they fear raves will be banned regardless of the
inquest's outcome.

"It looks like [the chief and mayor have] already made up their
minds," says a frustrated Will Chang, a lawyer and raver who helped
form the Toronto Dance Safety Committee, which represents the local
scene. "We would have hoped the mayor would have deferred until after
the coroner's inquest."

The inquest will try to answer questions about the night Mr. Ho
collapsed at an illegal party in a west-end parking garage. But a
significant part of the hearing will concern broader issues about both
raves and drugs, particularly the hallucinogen Ecstasy.

It will examine eight other Ecstasy-related deaths in Ontario last
year, of which very little is publicly known so far. Dr. Jim Cairns,
the deputy-chief coroner, says that only three or four involved raves,
and the same number involved the consumption of Ecstasy alone, rather
than its combination with other drugs or alcohol. (Mr. Ho took only
Ecstasy prior to his death.)

Up until about a month ago, when there were still five or so major
parties in the city every weekend, Toronto's rave scene was considered
the liveliest in North America. Now, eight to 10 years old, it
attracts top DJs from around the world and caters to a crowd of about
50,000 regular partygoers.

But in fact, no one, not even dedicated partiers, can define precisely
what a rave is. Usually, though, they are large, all-ages parties,
that, according to Mr. Chang, involve electronic music, go beyond
normal closing hours, and are one-off events, rather than regular club
nights.

"It's tough to agree on," he says. "If you're there, you know it's a
rave." Rave proponents like to point out how large the economic
spinoffs of the industry are. The city has 75 to 100 promoters, as
well as clothing designers and distributors, record labels, producers
and stores, and sound, lighting and security companies.

Toronto events are often promoted in the northeastern United States,
but people have come from as far away as Texas and Los Angeles to
attend them.

"It's a valid tourism industry," says Mr. Chang.

Despite the rave scene's long history here, it started encountering
serious public relations problems last year. Those centred on three
Ecstasy-related deaths, as well as a party at The Docks, the portlands
nightclub, that garnered a raft of noise complaints.

As coverage increased, it also became more widely known that the
venues some of the parties were being held at around Toronto were less
than ideal: Some lacked washrooms or running water, or did not comply
with safety and building codes.

And then there was a lot more written about Ecstasy. It is a fact that
frustrates rave advocates, who insist it is not the focus of their
scene, and dispute police estimates that 80% of partygoers are on some
kind of drug.

Still, police are adamant that the city's Ecstasy trade is growing
rapidly. The drug costs pennies to make and can sell for $20 to $35 a
pill. Detective Randy Smith, who runs the clandestine laboratory
section of the Toronto Police Service's major drug unit, says major
crime groups have now switched over to producing and distributing Ecstasy.

Police, who also find drugs such as PCP, GHB, Special K or Ketamine,
and marijuana at raves -- as they do at nightclubs -- say that as
demand for Ecstasy grows, the pills become more dangerous. That's
because more unusual substances, including household cleaners and
strychnine, are being found in them. "Demand is so great that quality
control isn't what it used to be," explains Det. Smith.

As a result of last year's problems, a group of ravers and promoters
decided last fall to form the Toronto Dance Safety Committee. Along
with city officials and police, they worked for two months to come up
with a protocol on how legal raves should be run.

The guidelines, which included goals on how many police officers and
paramedics should be in attendance, was passed unanimously by city
council. It looked as though consensus, and controlled raves, were
going to persist, even after there were drug arrests at the first of
two major parties at the city-owned Better Living Centre, on the CNE
grounds.

After that event, in March, even Chief Fantino seemed to be
supportive, calling the rave a "good outcome from the view of the
organizers and the police coming together ahead of this."

But after a second event at the CNE last month, and the growth of the
chief's Operation Strike Force, a project aimed at both raves and
after-hours clubs, high-level sentiment seems to have changed.

What happened in the meantime?

"I think probably the major catalyst for change has been Chief
Fantino," says Councillor Joe Pantalone, chairman of Exhibition Place.
"He was not the chief when this issue was last dealt with by council,
and he has definite opinions on the subject, and he's a very forceful
personality. And that, I believe has influenced all sorts of public
discussion, and I think perhaps affected the mayor's view of the situation."

Councillor Olivia Chow, who co-chaired the committee that came up with
safety guidelines for the city, is also puzzled by the recent turn of
events. "I thought we had a protocol," she says.

At the moment, the debate is centering on the CNE grounds, but what is
also at stake is the use of a handful of other large private venues
around the city that were willing to stage raves in the past, and
willing to adhere to the protocol. Now that they've grown rave-shy, it
is only a matter of time before the city's partiers find another
outlet for their energy.

Ryan Kruger of Destiny Productions, one of the city's longest-running
promotion companies, says he is holding off planning another large
event for now, and will get out of the business if he is no longer
allowed to stage them legally. But he knows there will be people out
there who are more than happy to take his place, by staging the old
kind of underground illegal events

"I've already heard rumours about people planning events that sort of
go back to that style, of sort of '93, '94," he says. "If the pressure
continues as it is, I bet you there'll be two events a weekend come
summer that are back to that old-school style, which is not
necessarily what anybody wants, but what's being forced upon them.

"When you've got 15 or 20,000 kids going out on a weekly basis,
they're still going to want to go out somewhere, and somebody's going
to be there to provide it for them."