Where the Wilding Things Are

Before midnight on July 3, only a handful of police were out in LoDo, most of them off-duty officers hired by club owners. Two officers in uniform shared a pizza and a laugh with a black-shirted bouncer on the deck outside Market 41, a popular dance club in the 1900 block of Market. Around the corner, on 19th Street, a pair of taggers spray-painted gang signs on two white, undercover cop cars. The streets were peaceful -- but then, LoDo in the hours before Let Out can be deceptively calm, with the sweaty, drunken throngs still inside the clubs, waiting to be disgorged after last call.

The police began rolling up in force between midnight and one, using patrol cars with flashing lights to set up roadblocks at all intersections surrounding Market and Blake between 18th and 20th streets, LoDo's four-square-block, throbbing heart. The roadblocks channeled all vehicle traffic onto Market. Officers on foot patrolled alleyways and sidewalks, ordering pedestrians to keep walking.

"Let's get it moving, people," one cop shouted. "Get to your cars; no standing around; let's call it a night. Thank you for your cooperation."

Only a lone saxophone player and the ubiquitous street-corner burrito vendors were allowed to stand in one place for more than a few seconds without being prodded by a police officer to get their feet in gear. This played hell with attempts to get a new acquaintance's phone number, but anyone who argued was threatened with arrest for loitering.

At 1:15 a.m., the clubs began announcing last call. At 1:30, they let out, and five minutes later a huge fight broke out on the sidewalk outside Market 41. Police reports show that the intersection of 19th and Market is ground zero for public fighting in LoDo; eleven people were arrested there after police broke up three separate brawls early the following Sunday.

When the first punch was thrown outside Market 41 on July 4, the block was in gridlock, and the sidewalks were jam-packed. Dozens of people ran away from the violence. Dozens more ran toward it.

The central figure in the fracas was a huge, bald-headed guy, bleeding from wounds on his scalp and a jagged slash across his back. Police and bouncers wrestled him to the ground, yelling, "Chill out, dude, relax!" as combatants kicked and punched all around, howling curses. A mob formed within seconds. A female officer unholstered a can of pepper spray the size of a kitchen fire extinguisher and blasted the crowd. Enraged by the sudden pain, onlookers who got a face full of cayenne surged toward the police officers. A woman in a halter-top punched one cop in the ribs.

"Did you just hit a police officer?" he shouted.

"No," she replied, suddenly meek.

"Yes, you did, and you're going to jail!" The cop wrenched her arms behind her, cuffed her, and sat her down, then waded back into the fray.

"I'm sorry," she said after him, her apology lost in the tumult.

A cop pointed a rubber-pellet gun at the front line of the swarm and shouted, "Get back!" Another officer began spraying mace in wide arcs. Four young men who got hit ran blind into the street. Onlookers suffered violent coughing fits and pounding headaches that lasted well into the next day.

One of the many who got maced was Market 41 co-owner Kirk Scheitler, who'd walked outside the club to see what the ruckus was just in time to get nailed. "Yeah, I got a good dose of it," he says. "The police have been trying to make sure their presence is felt down there, and I certainly felt it."

Scheitler says he supports the crackdown in general, but questions the police strategy of funneling all vehicle traffic onto his club's block and cordoning off the surrounding streets and alleys.

"It's like they're creating an arena," he says. "I've been down here for eight years, and it seems like every summer we have some kind of problem and the police try some different approach. I appreciate their help, but I'm not convinced this new approach is the best one."

Last summer, Scheitler recalls, the police bagged the parking meters on the 1900 block of Market, blocked the street to all cars, and brought in mounted police at Let Out. "That seemed to work the best of all," he says. "Horses are good crowd-control devices. They were nice to have around at closing time."

Even without the horses, the cops broke up the Independence Day melee outside Market 41 with impressive efficiency. A few minutes after the first punch was thrown, the police had three men and one woman in cuffs, the crowd more or less dispersed and ambulances on the way. Within ten minutes, the only evidence of trouble was a pool of blood on the sidewalk, and a shoeless man leaning against a nearby wall, complaining that someone had stolen his expensive basketball shoes after he'd been soaked with mace and had fallen to the pavement.

"They took my kicks right off my feet, man," he moaned. "Can you believe that shit?"