Publication title: Edmonton Journal
Pages: B1 / FRONT
Section: City
Publication date:
May 20, 2001
ProQuest document ID:
252893825
Copyright:
Copyright Southam Publications Inc. May 20, 2001
Abstract:
It's the latest in a series of late-night tours [Bill Smith]
has done with [Rick Abbott] and his beat partner, Const. Grant Jongejan.
Because after-hours clubs are unlicensed, parents assume
they're a safe hangout for young people. But these clubs are nothing more than
drug dens, as far as Abbott and Jongejan are concerned.
At Hot Pizza, Abbott and Jongejan meet up with the worried
parents of a 15-year-old girl reported missing. They know she is downtown
somewhere.
Full text:
His father used to say "nothing good ever happens after
2 a.m."
After two years on the downtown beat, dealing mostly with
the after-hours club scene and the drug subculture it has spawned, Const. Rick
Abbott says he has come to realize how right his father was.
If the parents of the youth who frequent these
establishments -- most of whom come from middle- to upper-middle-class homes
far from the downtown core -- realized just what goes on in these clubs, they
would keep closer tabs on their offspring, he tells Mayor Bill Smith on a
walkabout Friday night.
It's the latest in a series of late-night tours Smith has
done with Abbott and his beat partner, Const. Grant Jongejan.
Smith says he likes to go with the beat constables to see
for himself what is really happening in these establishments -- often referred
to as rave clubs -- since they have attracted so much public criticism in the
past couple of years.
It gives him a better idea of what kind of bylaw city
council should craft to crack down on noise, litter, fights, graffiti and
loitering associated with the clubs.
Abbott says he'd like to see the clubs forced to shut down
at 3 a.m., the same time as licensed bars.
He'd also like to see an enforced age limit.
Because after-hours clubs are unlicensed, parents assume
they're a safe hangout for young people. But these clubs are nothing more than
drug dens, as far as Abbott and Jongejan are concerned.
The drugs of choice for the young teens are ecstasy and
methamphetamine, commonly known as speed. Both make light, sound and touch more
sensual. They also provide enough stimulant to allow users to dance for hours
to the throbbing, electronic beats that reverberate through the clubs.
Users tell the unknowing the drugs are safe if properly
used, but there is no such thing as a safe drug, says Abbott.
While ecstasy, often called the love drug, tends to make
users happy and empathetic, it also increases body temperature and causes
dehydration, which can lead to convulsions and death.
Meth has a tendency to turn users mean, nasty and
extraordinarily strong. It can turn "a 110-pound girl into a 250-pound
linebacker," says Abbott.
After a quick walk through a new downtown bar called Halo,
the much older Cecil Hotel tavern, and Therapy, the Cadillac of after- hours
clubs, the two beat constables and the mayor pop into Hot Pizza, a popular
Jasper Avenue hangout for street people and hungry club-goers.
Here, Abbott spots two young women who match the description
of a couple of suspects wanted for committing fraud at an automated banking
machine earlier in the week.
Both girls are 17. One of the teens is definitely
"sketchy" -- a term given to the effects a meth user feels when
coming down off the drug.
It's not a pleasant experience, says Abbott. The user feels
anxious and acts spaced-out.
One of the teens admits she was at the bank machine in
question. Abbott tells her she is under investigation for the fraud, but she
won't be going to jail this night. Nor will she be joining her buddies at the
nearby after-hours club.
Abbott has called her mother, who is on her way from the
deep south to pick up the girl and her friend. Mom is about to learn what her
daughter does late at night while partying downtown.
At Hot Pizza, Abbott and Jongejan meet up with the worried
parents of a 15-year-old girl reported missing. They know she is downtown
somewhere.
The parents are aghast at the attitudes of the teens hanging
about. Last year, their daughter was on the honour roll. Then she met a new
friend who introduced her to the after-hours scene and quite possibly to drugs.
The parents are at a loss to explain the influence this new
friend has on their daughter. They fear for her safety. She is young, naive and
trusting -- qualities that make her vulnerable.
Parents need to know these after-hours clubs also attract
drunken adults after regular bars close, says Abbott.
In fact, one after-hours club -- The Gallery -- is located
right below a bar. It's not unusual to see drunken men in their 20s and 30s,
mingling with teenage girls after the bar shuts down.
The parents have no luck finding their daughter and go home
heavy- hearted.
In the back lane south of Jasper Avenue , between 102nd and 105th
Streets, the exterior walls of stores, office towers and restaurants are
covered with graffiti. Even the garbage bins are covered with "tags."
Graffiti adorns many buildings downtown, but its heaviest
concentration seems to be down this back lane.
While some people call it art, the beat constables call it
vandalism. Art doesn't deface private property.
Graffiti does. The most frustrating thing about graffiti is
trying to catch the vandals in the act, says Jongejan.
Smith is extremely concerned about the amount of graffiti
defacing downtown buildings. He has suggested the city consider a bylaw to
force building owners to cover it up. The suggestion, he admits, hasn't exactly
met with a groundswell of support.
At The Rev, a licensed rave bar, general manager Oliver
Friedmann tells the mayor the city's new smoking bylaw is causing problems for
after-hours clubs, which have all gone non-smoking.
Underage patrons must go outside to smoke, and that just
adds to the noise levels outside, he says.
Smith says he is surprised because the smoking bylaw only
applies to restaurants, not bars. He promises to check into the concern.
It's getting close to 2 a.m. when police park down the
street from Therapy, which is next to The Rev.
Maybe it's the unit's presence, or it may be because it's
the start of a long-weekend, but things have been unusually quiet for a Friday
night downtown. The few teens milling about the parking lot adjacent to Therapy
disperse with less noise than usual.
The constables move on, parking in front of The Gallery. By
this time of the morning, the club is usually packed wall-to-wall with bodies.
But not tonight.
The beat constables decide it's time to call it a night, and
a tired mayor doesn't argue. But before anyone can go home, there is one more
call to answer. It comes across as a possible gun complaint.
It turns out to be three drunken women who decided to duke
it out near Jasper Avenue
and 109th Street .
As Abbott's father used to say: "Nothing good ever
happens after 2 a.m."
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