Promoters describe the city-subsidized Casino Cabaret nightclub in Five Points as the "home of Denver's finest jazz." In recent weeks, however, the club in the heart of a black business district has instead been home to hordes of white teenagers at all-night rave dance parties.
A recent rave with 500 kids ended with a liquor cabinet being raided by some of the teens, the inside of the club being "trashed," as one observer described it, and an angry dispute that prompted one of the club's managers to get a restraining order against an editor of Denver's black newspaper. The all-night parties have also led to complaints that the club unfairly caters to white teens at the expense of black groups.
Charles Pankey, who co-manages the club with his wife, Lisa Petersen, says complaints from other blacks strike him simply as "jealousy," what he calls "typical crab-in-the-barrel black stuff."
But nobody seems to be happy with the club. Local rave promoters grouse about their dealings with club management and say the nightspot appears to be struggling to keep itself going. Since opening in March, Casino Cabaret has put on only a handful of jazz concerts. "Sounds to me like they're trying to stay afloat," says promoter Andre Galaviz. "So they're taking a bunch of stupid and inexperienced promoters--or so they think. I think they're falling behind on payments and they need the money." He estimates the club has probably earned $2,000 for its last two raves.
The club's managers won't comment on the raves. "My impression is they kind of knew what was going on, but it didn't seem bad enough to stop," says one promoter, who requests anonymity. "They were nervous--kids dance on tables, act kind of rude--but the liquor cabinet is the one that broke the camel's back. The club has been feeling really bitten lately."
The promoter says the club's managers "know the liquor cabinet got broken into, they know the room got trashed. The kids were stopping up all the toilets, which is pretty much standard for raves. Somehow these rave kids haven't figured out modern toiletry."
The club was renovated early this year with help from a $450,000 loan from the Mayor's Office of Economic Development (MOED). The money came from a "revolving loan fund" created out of federal community block grant money and designed to entice businesses into economically deprived areas.
MOED director Bill Lysaught points out that the Thomas Bean Foundation, which owns the property and was awarded the loan, does not actually operate the club. When asked why raves are taking place in a city-supported jazz supper club, Lysaught says, "There's nothing on restrictions regarding the number and types of events. I don't know anything about those events to comment about how good or bad they may be for that neighborhood."
McKinley Harris, a member of the foundation and the club's developer, says he doesn't control what goes on at the club, either. "So if they have teenage kids over there and no one's arrested, where's the story?" he asks. "There's no law against teenage kids dancing at the club." Harris says he's not concerned with what goes on there as long as there's no alcohol and no unruliness.
But Robert Stewart, managing editor of the Urban Spectrum, whose office is a block away from the club, says there's both alcohol and unruliness--and after complaining about it, he's found himself in legal trouble.
According to a request for a restraining order filed against Stewart by club manager Petersen, Stewart entered the club at 5:30 a.m. the morning after Halloween and "threatened my partner and manager. He used profanity, was extremely angry and demanded to see me. He left and called the police, which appeared at my place of business on a false charge."
Stewart says he smelled alcohol and marijuana while passing the place. Inside, he says, "the club was trashed out. People everywhere. Trash everywhere. I entered the business, asked to see who was in charge, asked to see Lisa or Charles. I was very angry, but I didn't swear." He says he had a few words with the manager on hand before he left. (Promoters say there's no alcohol allowed at raves, but some concede that drug use is likely.)
It's not the first time the club has come under scrutiny. Last summer it was revealed that the cabaret, which doesn't have a liquor license, was able to serve alcohol at its shows by using a special-event license. But those licenses are issued only with the purpose of allowing nonprofit groups to reap the proceeds, and there was no evidence that the nonprofit the club chose, the Denver Black Arts Festival, received anything.
Nor is it the first time Stewart has clashed with the club's managers. Over the summer, Stewart, believing that Pankey and Petersen, who are black, have been pandering to white groups, left a stinging message on the club's voicemail. "I called them lily-white-lovin' sons of bitches," he says. "Just out to make the almighty dollar. I said, 'Charles, why don't you and me step out and we'll just have it out?'"
