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Article from The Star: Dancing Despite Gunplay.....
| quote: | Originally posted by DigDeep
i'm afraid this closure (The Docks) may begin a trend that we all do not want to see happen...... |
go figure, the same day the docks license gets taken away - this article is released, and apparently Lot332 has had theirs taken away as well (not confirmed, but rumoured to be.)
LINK TO ARTICLE
Dancing despite the gunplay
Young people are turning out to the city's clubs in droves
But police and area residents aren't in much of a party mood
Jul. 24, 2006. 06:26 AM
ROBYN DOOLITTLE
STAFF REPORTER
It's just past 11 p.m. in the Entertainment District and already intimidating lines obscure the entrances to most of the bars.
Revellers in front of Lot 332 are spilling onto Richmond St. W., as anxious bouncers try in vain to clear the sidewalk.
Last week's triple shooting, which left one man dead at the club next door, doesn't seem to have fazed the twentysomething crowd Saturday night.
Last year, the area recorded 12 shootings and reported 53 gun-related calls.
If all of the 84 clubs in the district are at capacity, as many as 50,000 can jam the area that stretches from Spadina Ave. to University Ave., and from Queen St. W. to King St. W.
At Lot 332, club-goers swarm the front door, checking to see if they can bypass the wait. For dolled-up young women sashaying on stilettos, the rope is often pulled back and the cover charge waived.
Natalie Jackson, 19, stands by the door with a cellphone fastened to her ear clutching her Louis Vuitton purse. She's just been chucked out after getting into a fight on the dance floor. Her eyes are blotchy and there's blood on her hands. The skin around her jewelled nose ring looks swollen.
"Don't worry, I think the blood is mine," she says, as she tries to get back in.
"Some girl stepped on my friend, so I jumped in to help. I got punched in the face and I'm the one that gets kicked out."
Six minutes later, the rope is pulled back and Jackson re-enters the building.
Inside, the club is at capacity ? meaning walking from one room to another takes three to four songs. Competing for the attention of a bartender takes even longer, but no one seems to care; they have all night.
As with most clubs in the district, it's a young crowd.
The loud bass of Beyonce's new single rattles eardrums, making conversation nearly impossible.
A cluster of women decked out in plunging necklines and backless tops knows the music video's choreography by heart. They only stop the routine to pose for the occasional digital photo. The women form a protective circle to ward off rogue men with itchy hands. Each takes a turn in the centre, where they can "get low" without being groped.
"There are a lot of disgusting men. Any guy who grabs you is sketchy, period," Anna Smyth, 20, shouts over the music. "But it's not a big deal. We look out for each other. The atmosphere in this club is amazing. Everyone is having a fantastic time."
Back outside, an EMS crew is working on a woman in her mid-20s. Her best friend is crying hysterically outside the ambulance.
"She drank too much and her blood pressure is very low," says a police officer. "They found her collapsed on the sidewalk."
Moments later, the friend hops into the front seat and the ambulance speeds away to St. Mike's.
Further down the street, a souped-up pair of Acuras ? each equipped with six television screens, monster sound systems and Lamborghini-style front doors ? are stopped in front of the parking lot, which reeks of marijuana, as do most lots in the area.
`She drank too much and her blood pressure is very low. They found her collapsed on the sidewalk'
The cars' young owners lean against a telephone pole, watching as passersby marvel at their handiwork.
"We spent all winter working on them. They were just nothing before. I would seriously never race this car. We haven't touched the engine. It's for looks only," swears Usman Khan, 19.
"We just like to come down here, drive up and down the strip and show it off," echoes cousin Wakis Khan, 20.
The pair drives farther down the street and is stopped by a diva fresh from a rugby match who's begging to sit in the front seat. She plops her gold heels up on the dash, as her teammate gyrates suggestively on the hood.
"See, people are crazy," Usman laughs.
It's edging toward 1:30 a.m. and the first wave of partiers is trickling onto the streets, which are layered with wrappers, bottles and club flyers. Several garbage cans have been knocked over and the contents are quickly being spread across the sidewalks. A swaggering Bay Street type trips off the curb and nearly lands in a pile of police horse manure. His friends collapse on each other with laughter but flag down a passing taxi.
"It's not too busy tonight," Toronto police Sgt. John Boyce says. "Maybe 30,000 in all."
About 50 officers are on duty tonight, including five in plainclothes. City councillor and mayoral hopeful Jane Pitfield is tagging along tonight.
"I think the city has made a mistake licensing 84 clubs in such a small area," she says. "Police are forced to bring officers in from other divisions ? leaving other districts short ? to cover the area."
Says Boyce: "Right now, our busy time is just starting. The clubs are letting out ... people have been drinking and it will stay busy until 4 a.m."
Pitfield asked area resident Don Rodbard to join her on her walkabout. The 64-year-old has lived in his home, which is tucked behind the bar Republik, off of Richmond, for 16 years.
Every Thursday through Sunday, Rodbard says, he and his partner are kept up all night from the booming bass.
Rodbard is the founder of the King-Spadina Residents Association, which now boasts a membership of nearly 1,500.
"Our goal is to reduce the total concentration of nightclubs in King-Spadina to a level that police and city officials can handle ? and it's obvious as hell that they can't handle it now."
Like many of his neighbours, every Friday, Saturday and Sunday morning, he finds vomit, urine and garbage in or around his porch. And last year, police searched Rodbard's backyard with their guns drawn. While things have improved, it's because of the increased police presence in the area, which is costing taxpayers plenty, he says.
Rodbard's group is calling for individual nightclubs to help pay for the extra officers needed to patrol the area. In 2004, police put in a request for $1.6 million in additional funding to patrol the district, he says.
"If you divide that between every club, they should have to pay $30,000 in added law enforcement that right now Toronto taxpayers have to deal with," Rodbard told Pitfield.
"We need to be vigilant about this area," she says.
At about 2:30 a.m., the streets are flooded with people with nowhere to go. They clog the hotdog stands, pizza and sandwich shops, then rest on benches, fences and sidewalk ledges.
Darren Ali, 25, emerges from Afterlife shaking his head. He doesn't plan to stick around for the street after-party.
"I've been clubbing since I was 19 and it's time to get out of the game," he says. "I've never felt so old in my life."
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