snapshot no. 739
[80s image from 1985 photoshoot - photographer Gasper Tringale]
May 14, 1985.
Big night. The opening of the Palladium, NYC. Yejong, Haoui and I are poised on a staircase inside the club pre-opening hour for a photo-op for the Daily News. "The Doorpeople". Very ominous sounding. Yejong was chosen because she knew the uptown crowd -- Haoui knew the downtown crowd -- I knew a smattering of both. No time to eat, quick fix in the lady's room to readjust hat, makeup, general overall look.
8pm. Opening. An awaiting crowd with invitations in hand, most on guest list, most so recognizable that neither was needed. Andy Warhol, Diane Von Furstenberg, Raquel Welch, rock stars, designers, film stars, celebrities, all filtered in for a quick hello and an escort in. Later. Crowds were building for general opening at 10pm. Hundreds awaited their names to be checked, comps handed to them, we checked our clickers for body count: thousands. later still, traffic blocked by the thousands yelling out our names to be seen and let in, the police closing in for a fast conversation. The gates had to be pulled down so that the crowd would disperse. Bodies threw themselves onto the ground and rolled beneath the gates before they hit earth. Quiet. Except for the shouts outside the gates.
15 minutes later the rules had changed: the streets were now more flooded with people than before. The police had demanded we lift the gates and let everyone in. We did. And as we were pressed against the walls watching people running toward mecca, there in the midsts was a homeless woman who had been swept in by the crowds. She was lost and confused. I took her arm and explained where she was. She asked for something to eat. Did anyone have anything to eat? No, this was a nightclub. I gave her whatever money I had in my pocket and steered her back out toward the street to find a diner. It was quieter now... the door resumed, the ropes went back up, and the free peak at the cavernous club had resumed all normal activities. The old woman had wandered up the street, staring at the cash in her hands.
I don't know what ever happened to her.
May 14, 1985.
Big night. The opening of the Palladium, NYC. Yejong, Haoui and I are poised on a staircase inside the club pre-opening hour for a photo-op for the Daily News. "The Doorpeople". Very ominous sounding. Yejong was chosen because she knew the uptown crowd -- Haoui knew the downtown crowd -- I knew a smattering of both. No time to eat, quick fix in the lady's room to readjust hat, makeup, general overall look.
8pm. Opening. An awaiting crowd with invitations in hand, most on guest list, most so recognizable that neither was needed. Andy Warhol, Diane Von Furstenberg, Raquel Welch, rock stars, designers, film stars, celebrities, all filtered in for a quick hello and an escort in. Later. Crowds were building for general opening at 10pm. Hundreds awaited their names to be checked, comps handed to them, we checked our clickers for body count: thousands. later still, traffic blocked by the thousands yelling out our names to be seen and let in, the police closing in for a fast conversation. The gates had to be pulled down so that the crowd would disperse. Bodies threw themselves onto the ground and rolled beneath the gates before they hit earth. Quiet. Except for the shouts outside the gates.
15 minutes later the rules had changed: the streets were now more flooded with people than before. The police had demanded we lift the gates and let everyone in. We did. And as we were pressed against the walls watching people running toward mecca, there in the midsts was a homeless woman who had been swept in by the crowds. She was lost and confused. I took her arm and explained where she was. She asked for something to eat. Did anyone have anything to eat? No, this was a nightclub. I gave her whatever money I had in my pocket and steered her back out toward the street to find a diner. It was quieter now... the door resumed, the ropes went back up, and the free peak at the cavernous club had resumed all normal activities. The old woman had wandered up the street, staring at the cash in her hands.
I don't know what ever happened to her.
posted by yoyobunny at 3:34 PM
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