THE LAW OF CLUBLAND

Saturday Night'S All Right For Law And Order In The Entertainment District
- -- After All, This Is Toronto...

It's midnight on a humid Saturday and the streets are packed with
club-goers. "A typical crowd scene" for a summer weekend, murmurs
Detective-Constable Ken McGowan as he gazes out the window of a small sports
car slowly making its way through the congested traffic.

An 18-year police veteran and member of 52 Division's plainclothes unit,
McGowan watches the crowds with an intent stare that contrasts with the
studied indifference on most clubbers' faces. Driving the vehicle and
smoking heavily is Detective Brad Brigham, a 23-year vet and head of a
six-person plainclothes unit.

Brigham and McGowan are part of the 25- to 30-strong group of police
officers who spend Thursday, Friday and Saturdays nights patrolling the
Entertainment District, downtown's nightclub neighbourhood. According to the
Toronto Entertainment District Association (TEDA), the District is bounded
by Queen Street in the north, Spadina Avenue in the west, Lake Shore
Boulevard in the south and York Street in the east. The area, which used to
be known for abandoned warehouses, factories and needle-trade shops, now
houses dozens of gleaming, ground-floor dance clubs.

Both men are heavier and older than most people outside the vehicle.
Hopefully, they're the only two guys in the District packing Glock 9mm pistols.

Their strategy, says Brigham, is "constant enforcement" -- directed at both
the clubs and the patrons who fill them. They look for clubs that pack in
too many customers or violate liquor laws, as well as club-goers who get in
fights, sell drugs or otherwise break the law.

Constant enforcement seems to work; despite the tens of thousands of
exuberant patrons who frequent the two dozen nightclubs in the area, the
Entertainment District is a relatively law-abiding place. It's had no
reported homicides this year. Sexual assaults and brawls are rare, while
riots, of the kind that have plagued Montreal and Vancouver, are non-existent.

Still, Brigham thinks of the District as "a problem spot that isn't going to
go away." If cops and bouncers lose control of the area, he warns, "we will
never get it back."

'WE'RE NOT ON THEIR SIDE'

Brigham parks the car and the two officers get out. Around them is a sea of
young people, all walking fast towards the clubs, open on almost every
corner. The size of the crowd is overwhelming: according to 52 Division
Superintendent Aidan Maher, 20,000 people hit the Entertainment District on
a good night. Boris Khaimovich, general manager of the Limelight nightclub,
puts the figure at between 30,000 and 40,000.

The two cops are badly outnumbered by the club crowds -- which seems to
bother them even less than their failure to keep up with fashion. Most of
the male club-goers wear khakis or black pants with tight-fitting
short-sleeved polo or button-down shirts. The women wear short skirts,
sleeveless tops and big hair. Brigham and McGowan wear jeans and sneakers
and are among the few guys who don't have shaved heads or short, gelled hair.

"We're not dressed to fit in," says McGowan. "Everyone knows we're
undercover cops. If [the club owners] don't see your face, they'll take
advantage of you -- overcrowd, serve after hours. We have good rapport with
them but they know we're not on their side."

You wouldn't know this when Brigham and McGowan start going into clubs.
Bouncers greet the pair effusively, lifting the velvet ropes at entrances
and waving them past line-ups.

They start at Whiskey Saigon, a multi-floor dance bar featuring Chairman Mao
posters and elaborate lighting. The detectives nose around the very dark top
floor, yelling to be heard over heavy beats coming from the sound system.
Hands at their sides, they edge confidently through rings of thin women and
pretty boys. They walk in tough-guy style, like they have rocks in their
pockets, and pay no attention to the music and lights.

Finding nothing, the detectives exit the Whiskey and head to Swingers, which
has an unusual noise problem. Swingers is on a second floor, above another
club called Life -- and is none too happy about it. A Swingers bouncer, clad
in black and wearing the usual communications earpiece, tells the cops about
the sound-war with the neighbours. After chatting, the detectives walk onto
Swingers' dancefloor, feeling the bass vibrations from the club below.

They head down to Life and get in a heated discussion outside with two of
Life's owners and end up charging them with violating city noise bylaws. The
owners face a small fine for breaking a bylaw and a fortune in new sound
equipment and noise absorbers.

The noise war is ironic, considering it was complaints about loud crowds and
sound systems that sparked the birth of the Entertainment District.

"There was a club in Yorkville in the late '80s called the Copa," recalls
city councillor Olivia Chow, whose downtown ward encompasses the District.
"There was lots of noise problems, which caused grief in the area."

After changing its name to Barracuda, the Scollard Street club closed for
good in May of 1996, a month before its liquor licence expired.

"There were continuous complaints from residents in the area regarding noise
and disturbances on the street," says Richard Kulis, senior counsel for the
Alcohol and Gaming Commission of Ontario, which regulates liquor licensing
in the province.

Complaints about the Copa inspired Chow's husband, then downtown councillor
Jack Layton, to find a new home for city nightclubs.

"I said that big clubs were good," says Layton. "People were having fun,
dancing up a storm. I looked around at old industrial buildings, mostly
empty, in the old garment district around Richmond, Adelaide, John and
Peter. There was little housing there, so it wasn't likely to run into
residents objecting."

Following discussions by councillors and urban planners, the district was
rezoned in the early '90s to allow for big dance bars. This caused a shift
in the "centre of gravity" for nightclubs, says Layton, and the
Entertainment District began to fill with clubs and patrons. The area now
boasts the highest concentration of nightclubs in Toronto, a business
association representing more than 80 bars, restaurants and clubs -- and an
impressive record of crowd management.

TROUBLE SPOTS

"I don't like walking through hot and sweaty clubs," says Detective Brigham.
"I used to have three or four nice jackets. Now they've got cigarette holes
in them." The officer adds that he "wouldn't be caught dead down here" if he
wasn't on patrol. "The music I'm into is the Band, Cat Stevens, Crosby,
Stills, Nash and Young. The kind of stuff I've never heard in any of these
places."

But it's not music the detectives are here for. They're on the lookout for
"trouble spots" -- places where fights are common, bouncers run amok or the
owners keep getting nailed with bylaw and criminal charges.

According to the cops, the District's trouble spot par excellence was the
now defunct Power Bar on Adelaide. Clients at this friendly club would "make
us a mile away," says McGowan. "Then they'd drop beer bottles on us as we
went in."

The problem, according to the cops, was a combination of bad management,
overcrowding and a music format that attracted members of the Danforth
Village Posse, Christie Pits Boys and other gangs.

Khaimovich, whose Limelight club is just down the street from the old Power
Bar, also has grim memories of the place. Five years ago, on Boxing Day, a
crowd from a hip-hop show at Power Bar burst in on a Limelight crowd in the
midst of a rave. "The hip-hop crowd didn't want to pay the $20 cover,"
Khaimovich recalls. "They fought the hot-dog guy outside and engaged in
fisticuffs. A doorman got a fluorescent light banged over his head."

One night in November, 1998, a Power Bar patron and bouncer were both
stabbed and police had to evacuate the building in response to false reports
of a fire. "When we put together a briefing for the Alcohol and Gaming
Commission, it was eight inches thick," says Brigham. Reports from the
police so alarmed the Commission, it slapped an interim suspension on the
bar's liquor licence.

"We understood there was an immediate public safety problem with the club,"
says AGCO senior counsel Kulis. At a commission hearing a few weeks later,
the owner of the Power Bar admitted to various violations and the liquor
licence was revoked for good.

Brigham and McGowan are quick to say such places are rare in the District.
Some clubs are so laid-back, the cops never bother going inside -- they're
places that appeal to an older crowd who are less likely to get drunk and
out of control.

Fact is, the District is a relatively crime-free part of the city, perhaps
because the streets are as crowded as they are (see box). Most of those
filling the sidewalks at night are there to have fun, say the cops. Serious
violent crimes are rare, although fights between individuals or between
bouncers and patrons happen all the time.

At the G-Spot, the two detectives have just purchased some Cokes from the
bar when someone rushes in to announce there's a fight outside. They end
their amiable conversation with the door staff and rush onto Richmond
Street, soft drinks still in hand, to find the tail-end of a brawl.

Details are a little sketchy. Apparently someone named Sepehr was riding in
a car passing the Paramount Theatre when something struck the vehicle.
Sepehr got out and was jumped by a bunch of guys for reasons that remain
unclear. The detectives later see Sepehr being checked out by an ambulance
crew. Shirtless, the young man has a bandage around his head but refuses to
go into the ambulance.

"See that, refusing medical care," says Det. Brigham. "That's alcohol talking."

The street action also attracts mounted police, who in turn attract a number
of young women.

"Being a horse-cop down here is a chick magnet," laughs Det. Brigham.

At the corner of Richmond and John, a huge brown horse is being admired by a
knot of long-legged, short-skirted club girls. The women stroke and pet the
horse's face as the officer on top tries not to smile.

DRUGS IN POCKET

The opportunity to dance (and maybe get laid) is what draws most people to
the Entertainment District, but booze and drugs are what fuel the crowds
throughout the night.

Asked what substances cause the most problems, cops and door-staff generally
agree: booze and cocaine trigger the most hassles. "People on cocaine are
hard to deal with," says Brigham. "Also, some people get a bellyful of beer
[and] think they can take on the world."

During the day, bouncer Jay Brisebois works in the mergers and acquisitions
department of a Bay Street firm he would rather not name. His night-time
duties have included stints at Lee's Palace, the Horseshoe, the Big Bop and
other clubs both in and out of the Entertainment District. He doesn't worry
about raves or nightclubbers who use soft drugs -- "I'd rather walk into a
roomful of kids on Ecstasy or weed than alcohol," he says.

Raves, agree the police, generally don't cause much difficulty. "We don't
even get radio calls regarding raves," says Brigham. "We know people go in
there with drugs in their pockets, but it's generally not a big deal."

Nor is smoking marijuana in the District a big deal, if you're smart about it.

"If you have weed and we catch you, it depends on the person's attitude and
the quantity whether we make an arrest," explains McGowan. "Mostly, we just
tell people to put it out and go away."

Dealing drugs is another matter. As the officers walk past Joker on
Richmond, they bump into another group of plainclothes cops. There's a lot
of chatting and joshing around before the new arrivals mention that a bar
down the street -- which cannot be named, as it's part of an investigation
- -- is being busted for drugs by yet another group of officers.

Still, the District is hardly a hot spot for drug busts, compared to the
city as a whole. Police made 32 drug arrests during the first half of '98 in
the District and just 14 this year.

Preventing drug deals and fights are the immediate priority, but police are
also on the lookout for clubs that exceed their legal capacity. This is
partly because the city fears what Superintendent Maher calls "disco fires"
- -- horrible blazes that have swept through overcrowded dance clubs in places
like New York City and, more recently, Sweden. In March, a District club
called Venus lost its liquor licence for "putting the public at jeopardy"
with massive overcrowding, says Kulis.

A well-run facility, says McGowan, avoids overcrowding and will "adhere to
the conditions of its liquor licence" -- which means bartenders don't serve
people until they pass out. The other thing that's vital is good security staff.

GATE KEEPERS

In his career as a doorman, Khaimovich, has been attacked by a Rottweiler at
the Limelight, had a knife pulled on him at New York's Palladium, had
someone try to run him down in a jeep at the Copa, had a shotgun aimed at
him and had a finger bitten off -- and subsequently reattached.

Such experiences have taught him a few tricks. "The secret of security," he
says, "is making your crowd think you know something they don't."

Khaimovich says a good club has a "100-to-one plus two" ratio of clubbers to
bouncers; if a club has 1,000 patrons, there should be 12 doormen.

"Doormen have to know how to control, restrain and move people rather than
beating them," says Brisebois. This means being familiar with wrestling
holds, pressure points and "moving through a crowd ... you have to swim, you
can't move like a bull and knock people over. Turn sideways, bob and weave."

The goal, says Harris Rosen, publisher of Peace magazine, which covers the
local dance scene, is "mutual respect ... door staff are the ones who meet
and greet us. If they show some respect for people coming in, people go in
with a good vibe. If the door staff get all crusty and crabby, you send in
people who are all crusty and crabby."

There's also the issue of bouncer liability: "If you lose your cool, tune a
guy off, you will get charged," says Brigham. "Most bouncers are charged
once and don't want to get charged again."

Brisebois, who has broken all the knuckles on his right hand, both elbows
and assorted fingers, was once charged with assault causing bodily harm, but
the charge was withdrawn and he has no criminal record. Neither does
Khaimovich, who has been on the receiving end of three lawsuits and once
employed a doorman who served a three-month sentence for beating a guy who
was tossing bottles at him.

As the nightclubs hit their 2am closing time, detectives McGowan and Brigham
return to their car and cruise around. McGowan sees a guy rush into an alley
and the police take off in hot motor pursuit. Turns out to be a young drunk,
now lying peacefully on his side, head in hand, while his girlfriend stands
over him.

"I bet she's really proud of him," McGowan says, laughing.

It's the last remotely illicit activity the cops spot as their shift draws
to a close. It's been a "slow night," say both officers, the crowds
boisterous but generally well-behaved -- as they almost always are.

These front line detectives feel pretty confident about keeping the District
peaceful, an attitude shared by their boss. Superintendent Maher rattles off
a list of wild crowd scenes which he has helped police, including the
Beatles in 1964 ("an unbelievable mob," he says) and visits by the Queen and
the Pope.

"It's very rare that you'll even get a big street fight here," says Brigham.
The police presence helps considerably, but there's also a cultural factor.

"Toronto people are just not the rioting kind," says Brisebois, who has seen
plenty of small fights but very few large brawls in his career. As proof, he
cites the enormous -- but largely peaceful -- million-person march up Yonge
Street when the Blue Jays first won the World Series. "People say it's a
conservative city. If that lends itself to calmer crowds, great."

"There's huge numbers of people in the Entertainment District, and they're
very well behaved for the most part," agrees councillor Chow.

"This is Toronto, after all."

Call Nate Hendley at 504-4339 x: 313.

GOOD TIMES, FEW CRIMES

How good are club staff and police at keeping the peace in the Entertainment
District? Even though tens of thousands of people visit the area on
weekends, these figures from the 52 Division Crime Analyst Office show it's
one of the safer areas of Toronto.
- -- NH

Jan.-July / Jan.-July
HOMICIDE 1998/1999
Entertainment District 0 / 0
Toronto Overall 20 / 32

SEXUAL ASSAULTS
Entertainment District 11 / 10
Toronto Overall 1,070 / 1,130

MAJOR ASSAULTS
Entertainment District 50 / 42
Toronto Overall 2,828 / 3,082