DOORMAN

Doorman is one of those jobs particularly germaine to NYC. It probably started with the velvet rope bullshit of Studio 54 and spread from there. Any half way popular club became even more so if you put out the rope. It was all an illusion. Tell the people they can't get in and that's just what they want to do. Chuck was king of the doormen. He worked some of the prime spots in the EV- 8BC, Carmelitas, Underchine, etc. These places actually were fun and hip, but the doorman was mostly window dressing, a glorified ticket taker. I would go to all these places and hang with Chuck. The first night he worked Underchine the manager spied a bunch of us heading for the toney place and leaned into Chuck, advising him "See these guys? These are the types we DON'T want here. OK?" Chuck smiled, nodded to the manager. And gave us the VIP treatment through the door. Friends always got in.
Forget that TV image of the giant LA bruiser with a clipboard on steroids. In the EV those guys were called security. Sometimes there was a whole crowd working the door- a pretty girl with the ubiquitous "guest list", a couple of security men, and the minor celebrity doorman. You couldn't deny the power the doorman held. He could part the crowd like the Red Sea, letting a hot girl (or boy) or a crowd of personal friends in the front door, clutching a mess of free drink tickets in their sweaty palms. My first doorman job was at the club 4D. Some enterprising moneymen wanted to export the scene up to the east 50's. They hired the owners of 8BC to run the place, who in turn hired half the EV to work there. It didn't last long. It was about as hip as The Olive Garden on a Tues. night. Some things you can't export without them spoiling in transit.
The next spot i worked was Hotel Amazon. This was a Friday night hotspot held in an old school on Rivington St. The music was hip hop and the crowd was a mix of white, black and Puerto Rican hipsters carrying box cutters and guns. I worked the inner door with a big security guy by my side. Leonard Abrams (the EV Eye publisher) along with a cokehead name Whazzu rented the place and probably pocketed 10K every week. They even hired Cookie to work one of the many bars. It was boring standing on your feet all night, trying to keep kids from bum rushing, but it was an easy $100, and i did get a bit of the minor celeb. trickle down. When it was slow I could chat up the ladies. One in particular kept showing up, batting her pretty brown eyes.. You may recognise a pattern here. Her name was Shewhocannotbenamed. Trouble was on the horizon.