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?'"
Stewart claims the managers had promised to let the Five Points Business Association use the club for the annual Juneteenth wrap party last summer. "That's been a tradition for as long as they've had Juneteenth," he says. "But then they had booked in a rave party," which forced the Juneteenth party to end early.
It's unlikely Stewart will be making any future visits to the club to complain about its events. According to the restraining order, made permanent November 19, Stewart is barred from the nightclub and prohibited from going within 100 yards of Petersen or her daughter, Rashida.
"Robert has been threatening Lisa, and she had to deal with it," Pankey says. "She's just been flipping out. Obviously, she felt it was a real problem. It was pretty raunchy stuff; our daughter was picking up some of this stuff."
Opinions in Five Points are mixed. The Spectrum's publisher, Bea Harris, does allow that she thinks the raves are a "little disrespectful to the community," but Marva Coleman, who runs the Five Points Business Association, says no one has complained about the raves to her. Jeff X, owner of Brother Jeff's Cultural Cafe on Welton, adds that the kids aren't being unruly. "They are very behaved, very orderly when they're going into the venues," he says. "I wouldn't criticize their behavior."
But Jeff X is critical of what he calls a racial double standard: white kids partying all night in a black neighborhood while black groups are shut out. "My question is: Would members of our community have the opportunity to use that facility?" he says. "I think that answer would be negative. These raves are going on until about six in the morning. I know our community wouldn't have access to party at six in the morning in southeast Denver. I just honestly believe blacks would not have access to party during those hours. It's a slap in the face."
Rave promoters feel hit upon as well. Galaviz complains about problems with a damage deposit after his November 7 event. And another promoter, Bo Basic, says he's unhappy about what happened during his November 15 rave at the club.
"There were certain things I wasn't made aware of," says Basic, including an unlocked storage room full of alcohol that was discovered by teen partyers at around three in the morning. "If I knew that," he says. "I'd have made sure that stuff was cleared out of the venue or make sure somebody was there at all hours to make sure there's no way anyone could have gotten access."
Basic is not sure who made off with what, and he doesn't think kids could have smuggled much liquor out. According to Dave Reitz, the division chief for the state's Liquor Enforcement Division, storing liquor in an establishment with no liquor license is not illegal.
Many think the club has had its fill of rave parties and will no longer hold them. But officials from the city's Fire Prevention Bureau, which investigates fire-code violations, and the Division of Excise and Licenses, which investigates city liquor violations, say they may make some inquiries--thanks to Stewart.
"[Stewart] left me a couple of messages--he had voiced some concerns, and we planned to look into that," says Detective Mike Patrick of Excise and Licenses. "I'm looking at it right now."
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