Gangchester
Running a club in Manchester, the city which once pioneered acid house, demands a siege mentality. Which of the city's armed gangs regards your venue as their territory? Can your doormen keep them out? Are your doormen gang-affiliated? If so, which gang? Get it wrong and there will be trouble. Kick the gangsters out and they may come back and shoot you. The problem closed Most Excellent, Home and finally, The Hacienda - even Fantazia suffered in October. Now, with the gang structures breaking down and the police seemingly unable to help, Manchester's gang law is out of control. We have been waiting five years to run this feature: now it's time for the real story of Manchester clubland...
KNOWN trouble-makers turn up at your club. The doormen step in to turn them away. They're livid at this apparent show of disrespect. During the ensuing face-off they threaten to return and shoot your doormen dead. Several hours later a car drives by and it all goes off. Gunfire. Pap, pap, pap, pap. What do you do? This isn't a hypothetical question. This isn't even downtown South Central Los Angeles or New York's Bed-Stuy. This is Manchester and this is the kind of trouble clubs are facing. On May 1st 1997, three youths drove by a Manchester club, slowed to a halt, took aim with an automatic pistol and attempted to murder the doorstaff. Their first two shots whistled between two doormen's heads, shattering a large glass door behind them. As everybody hit the deck the car sped off and the remaining shots peppered the brickwork. The youths had waited several hours for the crowd to file inside before driving by - not because they were worried about hitting innocent members of the public but, it is assumed, because they wanted a clear shot. They were not recognised gangsters or big-time drug dealers. The shooting was not part of a door war - a fight between rival gangs for the highly lucrative job of club security. It was a potentially lethal outburst from three teenagers angry they had been refused entry. The doorstaff immediately dialled 999. Twenty minutes later a patrol car arrived. After three quarters of hour an armed response unit turned up. A spokesperson for the club said: "How much more serious can it be than a shooting outside a club with hundreds of people in it? Our doormen are risking their lives to protect our customers. They're working on the front-line without adequate back up. Not surprisingly they're scared. I wouldn't be a doorman in Manchester." And neither will Tony any more. He used to work at another Manchester club. In mid-July 1997 he was followed home from work by two youths in a Golf GTI. As he filled up his car at a local 24-hour garage they screeched onto the forecourt and shot off several rounds, wounding him in the leg. The only reason Tony wasn't killed there and then was because of his quick reactions - when he saw the gun being drawn he turned his body sideways to cut down the target area. He says he felt and heard at least one bullet fly past his chest. The police believe the two youths were angry that they, or associates, or possibly their girlfriends, had been turned away from the club.
gangsters walk fantazia door
Manchester's clubs are under siege. In the last two years, extreme levels of violence have helped close three high-profile venues, including The Hacienda. Promoters are blaming Greater Manchester Police (GMP) for failing to protect them and their businesses and their customers. On Hallowe'en of last year, Fantazia threw a 12,000 capacity event at Manchester's G-Mex. Clubbers, who had travelled from all over the country, endured queues of up to three hours as everyone, without exception, was strictly searched with hand-held metal detectors. Manchester's reputation had preceded it and the Birmingham-based security team were running a tight ship. In any other city the night would have gone off without major incident. Manchester is not any other city. Because the G-Mex is not regularly open no one gang regards it as their territory. Coupled with the fact that the various security teams were from out of town, the all-nighter was always going to attract serious attention. Gangsters from Cheetham Hill, Salford, Moss Side's Gooch and Doddinton (there are loose gang groupings named for all these Manchester districts) and all the smaller affiliated and non-affiliated crews inbetween turned up. A formidable bunch of characters to contend with when they have no intention of paying, let alone being searched for weapons. "I watched gangsters just 'walk' the door," recounts one eye-witness. "The security might as well have not been there. When one of them did wrestle with a guy, an arm went up and bam, he was wasted out cold on the floor. All the others started jumping over the barriers, people falling all over the place, security getting smacked to fuck. It was over and done with in about 30 seconds." Other crews went through the fire exits, the stage doors, or had "walked" the main entrance earlier in the night in smaller numbers. Some were said to have simply told security which gang they came from and that they would return and shoot anyone who got in their way. Andrew Gallagher, for Fantazia, said in a statement that the company was aware that there is a gang problem in Manchester when planning the event: "A 12,000 capacity dance event in one of the most notorious cities in the UK is definitely going to attract undesirable attention. We took every possible step to counter these problems and as a result Fantazia '97 was an enormous success. The G-MEX has since offered us another date for the near future."
why clubs can't win
Manchester's permanent clubs suffer the attentions of these sort of characters every week. Talk to almost any of the city's owners or promoters and the story goes like this: the fact these so-called gangsters feel they shouldn't have to pay to get in is not an issue. Neither is the fact they often feel they don't have to pay for expensive rounds of drinks. Both would be a small price to pay for a quiet life. But owners say there's no quiet life to be had if these characters are in your club en masse, getting their feet warm. Not only do they intimidate your customers and staff, they attract the attention of the police. Ultimately, if the problem is not dealt with, they cost you your licence and your livelihood. Refuse them entry at the door though, and they're likely to start taking pot shots at your doormen: this in turn will attract the attention of the police and could lead to you losing your licence and your livelihood. And although GMP have consistently stated that nothing licensees tell them will be used against them, you still fear that if you go to the police for help you will ultimately lose your licence and livelihood. Running a club in Manchester involves adopting a siege mentality. Vital energies are exhausted on security. Which gang regards your venue as their territory? Are they likely to turn up at your night? If so can your doormen keep them out? Or, more realistically, do they have sufficient respect for your doormen to behave? Are your doormen gang-affiliated? If so, which gang? Get it wrong and there will be trouble - your venue will attract persons of bad character and that might put your licence at risk. Independent black music promoters believe they have borne the brunt of this catch 22. So bad is the problem that the largest black music promoter in Manchester doesn't even organise dances in the city, choosing instead to run coaches out to provincial clubs. Tarred with the gangster brush, they claim they have effectively been run out of town. Certainly Manchester's city centre hosts no regular black music nights. The first to go were soul and r n' b. Rap and hip hop quickly followed in the fallout. Then for years it was impossible to establish a jungle night in the city for fear of gang violence which would lead to police retribution. The latest sub-genre to suffer the Mancunian kiss of death is speed garage. It makes Manchester's clubs conservative and backward: an extremely sore point for a city that once proudly pioneered acid house.
a promoter's story
Alexander (name changed) as been promoting clubs for ten years. He's been pushed out of more venues than he cares to remember. As a youth he used to run with a very serious local gang. By the age of 21 he'd seen three associates shot dead. His son was three and he wanted to see him grow up. He says he made a conscious decision to become a legitimate businessman. When Alexander organises a party he likes to man the door himself so he can take a personal responsibility for the safety of his customers. Recently, several youths arrived with no intention of paying and every intention of causing maximum grief. Alexander's seen it all before of course, but says it's getting worse. When people try it on with him and threaten to resort to gun play to get what they want, he says he feels "emasculated". "I can't push it as far as I'd like to because what's gonna happen on my door? Pure shit gonna go off and all people inside are gonna hear is gunfire - pap, pap, pap, pap," he mimics. "Then that's it, my night is over and done with, police are in and it's all over three fucking quid. "I've got three faces in my head right now, three faces who've pushed it too far and I'm ready to deal with them," he spits, grabbing a shot gun cartridge from the table and tossing it up and down. "That is the level I've got to go to protect my business. But I shouldn't have to, I'm a DJ and promoter and I left that gangster shit behind a long time ago."
Gangchester
"new breed" gangsters
Gangsters have long been a feature in clubs. For anyone who craves notoriety - as they so obviously do - there's no better place to express your wealth. What's changed in Manchester however, is that not only have they got younger, less respectful and even more prone to gun play, but their behaviour has influenced a myriad of wannabes - the drive-by on May 1st was carried out by three "unknown" Asian faces. Seasoned observers contend that the "new breed" are in absolutely no doubt that they can get away with murder. "They've seen man shoot another in broad daylight and get away with it because witnesses are too intimidated to speak up," says Alexander. "Not only that, but they've seen reputations get even bigger because of it." police refuse to man club doors
Closing down clubs, however, does not solve the problem. In September 1989 the police closed the infamous soul club, The Gallery. It was, at the time, a favourite haunt for Cheetham Hill, who were engaged in an all-out war with Moss Side's Doddinton. The following weekend the main players from the 'Hill' arrived at The Hacienda, flashed their guns at the doormen and walked in without paying. In the last eight years the trouble has continued to spread throughout the city. It has even overwhelmed the Gay Village and, most recently, the large mainstream discotheques - the free entry requirement at one has been known to be a menacing announcement of your Salford postcode. When they turn up at your venue you're left to face them down alone, complains Andy Spiro, director of Sankey's Soap, home to both Golden and Bugged Out. He resents what he perceives as a lack of support from the police. "If there was trouble with villains wrecking havoc or dealing drugs at the Arndale shopping centre," Spiro says, "the police wouldn't leave them to it, they'd be right in there dealing with it." Spiro wants GMP to actively police his club. He says he would welcome regular uniformed visits and high-profile policing around his door. "The real problem," he says, "are the little kids running round desperately trying to make a name for themselves. The doormen are terrified of them. "Forget all the various gang affiliations door teams have, or have had, they now want the police to get off their arses and clean up the streets," he adds. "The police know who these kids are, we know who they are, even your average punter could point them out, but the police aren't picking them up off the streets and shaking them down. They should keep harassing them until they stay out of town." However, in a faxed statement Chief Constable David Wilmot's office comments: "GMP will not and cannot provide a security service at licensed premises. Apart from being inappropriate due to a conflict of interest, it would also be logistically impossible - in the city centre alone there are over 150 licensed premises with club type late hours." (See insert p 76) Sankey's is not the first club to ask the police for help. In 1989 The Hacienda warned there was a gun problem brewing. They approached senior GMP officers with a plan to pay for police to stand on the door and control their crowd, as at local football matches and at clubs in America. They were unequivocally told that that was not and never would be policy. In 1991, after months of ferocious gang violence and intimidation, which culminated in the stabbing of six doormen, the club voluntarily closed to protect their staff. Unbeknown to management, the closure pre-empted a move by the police to oppose their licence on grounds of blatant drug use and dealing on the premises. The club reopened months later without police on the door. It also began to fight a rearguard action in the courts and the media. In July 1997 events finally caught up with them - as directors were declaring bankruptcy, senior police officers were moving to revoke their licence. This scuppered a planned management buyout and scared off at least one potential buyer. The local press reported that senior officers were concerned that the club would be sold to a new company acting as a front for city crime bosses.
warrington
club's solution
Although the letter of the law does not allow policemen to work as bouncers, Manchester's gang problems have been largely solved elsewhere. On December 5th 1995, a large contingent of the city's more notorious gangsters descended on the Mr Smith's nightclub in Warrington. They were armed and weren't in the mood to take no for an answer. Cheshire police decided to meet the problem head on. They made it known that there would never be a repeat performance and at the next event clubbers were met by a formidable police presence. There was an armed response unit parked in the first car park, another on the corner of the club, a third in the second car park and three riot vans up the street. Inside the foyer were four uniformed officers, arms crossed, surveying the crowd. The event passed off without incident. Over the following months the police presence was scaled down. Today there is rarely trouble, despite the fact that many of Manchester's gangsters still go there for a night out. Meanwhile, back in Manchester, licensees complain that trouble-makers are devastating the club scene. Club promoter Gary Martin actually believes "decent people" are staying out of the city centre because it's too intimidating. "In other cities you don't see 20 or 30 hooligans going out and enjoying themselves at the expense of other people," he says. "It's not allowed to happen because it's not right."
double murder
Minds were rudely focused on the issue when, in the early hours of October 4th 1997, there was a horrific double murder. At 3.20am 27-year-old Simon Speakman was kicked to death outside a take-away. Twenty minutes later, 22-year-old Steven Hughes was stabbed to death less than 400 yards away. They were not the sort of gang related tit-for-tat killings Manchester had learnt to live with. Rather it appeared both men had been murdered for coming to the aid of women. The local paper called the deaths 'The Good Samaritan Murders'. The city council was quick to react, calling for a minute's silence in clubs the following weekend - a move that enraged many licensees who feared they would simply become a scapegoat and suffer a police crackdown. Against all the odds, licensees argued, Manchester's clubs were safer than many provincial discotheques, where lager-fuelled violence is often random and indiscriminate. Perversely, given the extreme level of the violence on some doors, they had a point. No one dares hit anyone else in a drunken fury on a Manchester dancefloor in case they hit the wrong person - in case they're 'connected'. And in many ways, it is the very lawless nature of Manchester's club scene that's made it so exciting. From the Moss Side blues parties of the 80s to illegal acid house clubs like The Kitchen - based in a two-flat squat in Hulme until 1990 - to road block jungle dances, aggressive street culture has driven the party. But such aggression has now got out of hand. At Phenomenon One in 1995, the crowd were fired up by lads in the middle of the Hacienda dancefloor igniting butane gas canisters to produce huge four feet bursts of flame. The craze caught on. Staying one step ahead, lads at dances at the Lighthouse in Hulme started letting off their guns into the ceiling in appreciation of new dubplates. It became a habit and the promoters had to put money behind the bar at the start of the evening to cover damage. When one lad decided to discharge a pump action shotgun right in the middle of the club, the police decided they had to pay a visit to the venue. Extreme levels of violence are killing Manchester's clubs. Since the city officially went 24 hours over four years ago, very few have dared to regularly stay open all night. To do so attracts gangsters, they say. Spiro admits there's nothing he would like better than to open Sankey's until dawn every weekend. "But sadly," he opines, "it's not safe for us to do so because the police can't or won't protect us."
police response
To the police it seems they just can't win. When a door war over control of the club Home culminated in a terrifying show of force from over 40 balaclava-clad Salford hooligans, the police went in hard and fast. Running fights inside the venue ended in five arrests but afterwards no moves were made to revoke the club's licence. Even so, public confidence was shattered and Home finally closed. Since then Greater Manchester Police have adopted a more pro-active stance and in September of this year did something they had previously said they would not do: for two Saturdays in a row two police officers sat in a van outside Sankey's. Local club owners hope it marks a shift in police attitude. Yet, even though the limited police cover was welcomed by Sankeys' management, they also warned that more consistent and high profile policing right across the city was necessary if the problem was truly to be solved in the long run. City councillors meanwhile maintain that the only way to overcome Manchester's unique problems is for owners and police to have "very honest and confidential dialogue". However, despite brokering high level meetings between the two sides, leading city councillor Pat Karney admits that a trusting relationship is a very long way off. One promoter, who preferred to remain anonymous for fear of "police attention", said that although the official attitude seems to be improving, under the surface little has changed. "Get on the wrong side of them, for whatever reason, and they'll take you down," he warns. "Once they target your club they're like a dog with a bone. They don't want to deal with the problem head on together with promoters, they just want arrests and no more clubs." Anthony Stevens, a promoter of some ten years standing, may have been less wary about going on the record, but he was no less outspoken. "I've heard it all before," he says. "In fact this is the third time in the last six years the police have made these kind of noises. It's just to lull everyone into a false sense of security while they hope things die down."
how holy city
zoo survived
Move out of the city centre, which is under the jurisdiction of police division A, and you hear a different story. Holy City Zoo falls under the immediate control of Division C and Green Heys police station. When the club was the focus of violent Salford characters they went to the police for help. They say they could not be happier. In March 1996 the club was forced to close. A member of a well-known Salford family had "gone ballistic", randomly hitting people. There were eleven casualties and two clubbers had to go to hospital. The music was stopped, the lights switched on and the man finally cornered by security. Because of who he was they were reluctant to physically tackle him and tried instead to cajole him into leaving. He got his penis out and pissed on the bar in front of the brewery's area manager. Together with police help and advice, Holy City Zoo installed £55,000 worth of security equipment, including sophisticated CCTV. Today you can't even drive up to the door without being watched. More importantly the images are beamed live via computer ISDN link to the police station: an all-too-common tactic after trouble kicks off is for gangsters to storm behind the bar and destroy crucial evidence recorded on video tape. For their part, the Green Heys co-ordinated a series of high-profile uniformed visits and patrols, "to show we're taking an interest and prepared to do something about it if offences are seen to be committed," says Inspector Alan Chantler. "We still provide regular visits and we would do that for any other premises in the area." This applies to large brewery concerns and small independents alike. "If we let one club go in the area they're all going to go and that's not what we want," PC Jim Collins had explained earlier. "You've got to make a stand somewhere." Other club owners say they'd love to move their venues to Division C. Rightly or wrongly, they believe that city centre-based officers don't want to implement the measures they feel are needed to deal with the gangsters; that even if they find a sympathetic ear the officer is often promoted and they have to start again from scratch. Simply not true, say senior officers. Public safety is the priority. In the past year, 36 initiatives to deal specifically with violence and sexual offences, over and above routine patrols, have been launched. Yes, Manchester has problems, but so does every other large city. Inspector David Jones at Central Licensing adds that he'd be worried if licensees were singing his praises; it is after all his job to police them. He also has his own theories why owners are reluctant to confide in the police. He said: "Generally speaking the doors (and their security firms) are running the clubs and if the licensee isn't prepared to come to us and tell us what's going on we're left with very little alternative." And what's that alternative? No less than to close the venue down.
straw that broke hacienda's back
Inspector Jones defends the decision to oppose The Hacienda's licence last July. The closure was two years in the making, he says. He and senior officers believed Manchester would be, and is, a better place without the club. It was having a bad effect on the city's image. Two years of covert drugs surveillance and a catalogue of reported and unreported violent altercations and assaults were weighing heavy on its survival. The final straw, says Inspector Jones, came when he and seven magistrates and another senior police officer, sitting in a minibus after a routine visit into the venue, witnessed a near fatal assault in the early hours of June 28th 1997. 18-year-old Andrew Delahunty was hit over the head from behind with what looked like a metal bar before being pushed into the path of an on-coming car. Delahunty sustained a fractured skull and spinal damage and was rushed to hospital. He now suffers from a speech impediment. The Hacienda management were quick to point out that when trouble kicked off in the club their security ejected a group of trouble-makers. It raises this question: should the club be held responsible for what happens if they return later, they ask? In effect, that a club must essentially 'police the streets'? The Hacienda management also strenuously deny allegations that their door staff were out of control, or in any way running the club. They added that if the police had a problem with one of their doormen they should have dealt with it through Door Safe - a city council and GMP-sponsored registration scheme specifically launched to police them. Inspector Jones is adamant that now new owners for the venue have finally been found, they will not employ doormen from Manchester. "Otherwise they're going to come with the baggage of all the local villains and gangsters, whoever you pick. You can fly them in from Brussels for all I care, just as long as they're from outside Manchester." But as one ex-bouncer points out, clubs have no choice but to employ "colourful" local characters if the police do not directly get involved on their doors. "Who else is going to stand on the firing line?" he questions. "You've got all these lunatics going out, who's going to control them and stop them getting in? Not some goodie-two-shoes who's got a bit of reputation in some small mill town." fear of the future
MEANWHILE, the prognosis for Manchester is not good. Not only do licensees and the police wholly distrust each other, but local gang politics are in dangerous turmoil. Rumblings from Salford indicate that the younger firm is beginning to feel they've outgrown the control of their peers and want a larger slice of the action. Conversely, Cheetham Hill has been united by the recent release from prison of a major figure. No one is sure whether that is good news or bad news, only that change means trouble. Meanwhile, in Moss Side drug revenues are drying up and younger 'trigger happy' gang members are getting desperate. Recently one even robbed an older member of the same gang at gun point - something previously unheard of. Rightly or wrongly, members of Doddinton and Gooch also believe they have been cut out of the lucrative job of club security and want the city "carved up" evenly. If they are serious the ensuing door war would make the last one look like a cat fight. Added into this is a hitherto unknown Asian factor. Bradford has long had gangs of the type Manchester is sadly famous for. Slowly troops and influence have been absorbed. No one knows how seriously these new crews take themselves or whether they would go head-to-head with the city's established players, but at least one recent shooting has been attributed to them. Outside of London, Manchester was the city that broke acid house and many of its subsequent incarnations to the nation. The legendary Hacienda Nude nights, Konspiracy, Most Excellent's pioneering Balearica, Madchester and the Happy Mondays, even Manumission, they all originated here. But with a gang problem as out of control as this, and despite the success against all odds of nights like Bugged Out, it's going to prove very difficult for Manchester to pioneer anything again.
manchester's gangs
Salford A catch-all term for the firms that operate out of the Salford area of Greater Manchester. They're predominately white and the main split is by age - one older firm of thirtysomethings and a younger firm of lads, mainly under 25. However, unlike other gangs Salford also clearly splits along family lines as well.
Cheetham Hill Chiefly a black and mixed race gang operating out of the Cheetham Hill area of North Manchester. They're currently the tightest of all the gangs in the city and despite the relatively small size of Cheetham Hill they're arguably the largest single crew.
Gooch A mainly black gang that operates out of the Moss Side area of south central Manchester. They take their name from Gooch Close and are split by age. The older original thirtysomething members have started to move away from the area, though the younger trigger kids are still predominately Moss Side residents.
Doddinton A mostly black gang that also operates out of the Moss Side area of south central Manchester. They take their name from Doddinton Close on the West side but, unlike Gooch, the younger trigger kids dominate, as fewer older original members are still actively involved.
None of these crews are homogeneous and all of them are riddled with affiliations and splits between independent crews.
manchester's violent lows
September 1989 Police close The Gallery, a favourite haunt for Cheetham Hill. The following weekend they turn up at The Hacienda.
Christmas 1989 Cheetham Hill turn up at Discotheque Royales. When doormen attempt to bar their entrance one is badly beaten up. Later players simultaneously enter the club through three fire exits, guns are drawn and punters are taxed (the method by which club-goers are forcibly made to hand money over with threats of violence if they do not).
1990 The unorganised beginnings of a door war between Cheetham Hill and Salford spark at Konspiracy. Violent taxings of the night's takings become the norm. In Spring 1991, the police decide to close the club.
Summer 1990 The long-running illegal club The Kitchen suffers numerous taxings. Promoters complain that it has now just become a hang-out for local Moss Side brass. It is closed after the back studio is taxed.
Christmas 1990 After a number of turn-aways at Piccadilly 21, the manager starts receiving live ammunition in the post.
January 1991 After months of ferocious gang violence and intimidation t The Hacienda closes to protect staff. It re-opens with an airport-style metal detector at the entrance.
June 1991 Six doormen at The Hacienda are stabbed. The assailants had managed to evade the new metal detector. Ten people are arrested.
August 1991 Moss Side's Doddinton are down the front of the Papa San gig at the International II. Cheetham Hill enter the venue from the back and attempt to shoot them over the heads of gig goers. Doddinton return fire. The International II stops hosting reggae gigs.
October 1992 CS gas canisters are let off on a packed dancefloor at Funhouse at The PSV. The following week a student is caught in crossfire and wounded in the leg. These actions culminate in the closure of the club.
June 1992 Several Salford lads are refused entry to Most Excellent at the Wiggly Worm. They return in a stolen car and ram the entrance. The action forces the closure of the club.
June 1994 Despite a relatively trouble-free night at an Underground Sounds jungle dance at UMIST Students' Union a young man is shot and wounded on nearby Sackville Street. Future dances are cancelled.
August 1994 The sell-out Monday jungle dances at Home are cancelled after three weeks. Management say they cannot ask their staff to suffer physical and verbal abuse from "gangsters high on crack".
April 1995 A doorman from The Hacienda, 26-year-old Terry Farrimond, is shot dead near his home in Swinton.
Summer 1995 The habit of letting guns off into the ceiling of The PSV during dances gets out of hand when someone lets off a pump-action shotgun. The police pick so many bullets out of the ceiling that whenever it rains the club floods. The following month three girls are hospitalised by ricochets. Future events are cancelled.
Autumn 1995 After several drive-by shootings, the door war over control of Home culminates in running battles inside between 40 balaclava-clad Salford hooligans and police. The club closes.
March 1996 Holy City Zoo closes to install £55,000 worth of security after a Salford man goes round randomly hitting people. Eleven casualties and two hospital cases.
May 1997 Three Asian youths drive by a club and try to shoot the doormen dead.
June 1997 18-year-old Andrew Delahunty is assaulted outside The Hacienda. He sustains a fractured skull and spinal damage. The police make moves to revoke the club's licence.
July 1997 A doorman is followed home by two youths. When he makes a pit stop at a garage he's shot and wounded in the leg.
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greater manchester police's official response to our report
"GMP maintain a robust stance against violent crime, wherever it occurs.
"GMP is one of the few forces in the country that operate a dedicated unit to deal with armed crime. This has been highly successful in taking large amounts of weaponry out of circulation, in arresting and disrupting the activities of so-called gang members who would be likely to target nightclubs."
Responsibility for security in clubs and on doors
"Manchester city centre has one of the highest densities of licensed premises outside of London. Irrespective of this fact, its levels of recorded violence remain comparable with cities like Liverpool, Newcastle or Leeds."
The allegation that "club owners and promoters are left to police their venues without adequate back-up from GMP".
"GMP does provide back-up and support to licensees, promoters and managers. A dedicated plain clothes unit regularly meets with licensees and makes visits undercover to identify and arrest drug dealers and other criminals. The Central Licensing unit at Bootle Street meets with all new licensees and offers advice and support. "It is not true that we seek to close venues down at the first sign of trouble, rather the reverse. It is only as a last resort that we seek to oppose or revoke a licence, although where it is necessary we do not shy away from taking action. In the last two years, in respect of only four licensed premises in the city out of hundreds has revocation been sought. Even in those cases advice and support had been provided and had not been acted on. "Overall GMP has a long-standing and good relationship with the licensing trade, breweries and local authorities aimed to work in partnership to improve safety and the quality of life. The police are fully committed to making the city ever safer and we will continue to play our part in partnership alongside others."
Running a club in Manchester, the city which once pioneered acid house, demands a siege mentality. Which of the city's armed gangs regards your venue as their territory? Can your doormen keep them out? Are your doormen gang-affiliated? If so, which gang? Get it wrong and there will be trouble. Kick the gangsters out and they may come back and shoot you. The problem closed Most Excellent, Home and finally, The Hacienda - even Fantazia suffered in October. Now, with the gang structures breaking down and the police seemingly unable to help, Manchester's gang law is out of control. We have been waiting five years to run this feature: now it's time for the real story of Manchester clubland...
KNOWN trouble-makers turn up at your club. The doormen step in to turn them away. They're livid at this apparent show of disrespect. During the ensuing face-off they threaten to return and shoot your doormen dead. Several hours later a car drives by and it all goes off. Gunfire. Pap, pap, pap, pap. What do you do? This isn't a hypothetical question. This isn't even downtown South Central Los Angeles or New York's Bed-Stuy. This is Manchester and this is the kind of trouble clubs are facing. On May 1st 1997, three youths drove by a Manchester club, slowed to a halt, took aim with an automatic pistol and attempted to murder the doorstaff. Their first two shots whistled between two doormen's heads, shattering a large glass door behind them. As everybody hit the deck the car sped off and the remaining shots peppered the brickwork. The youths had waited several hours for the crowd to file inside before driving by - not because they were worried about hitting innocent members of the public but, it is assumed, because they wanted a clear shot. They were not recognised gangsters or big-time drug dealers. The shooting was not part of a door war - a fight between rival gangs for the highly lucrative job of club security. It was a potentially lethal outburst from three teenagers angry they had been refused entry. The doorstaff immediately dialled 999. Twenty minutes later a patrol car arrived. After three quarters of hour an armed response unit turned up. A spokesperson for the club said: "How much more serious can it be than a shooting outside a club with hundreds of people in it? Our doormen are risking their lives to protect our customers. They're working on the front-line without adequate back up. Not surprisingly they're scared. I wouldn't be a doorman in Manchester." And neither will Tony any more. He used to work at another Manchester club. In mid-July 1997 he was followed home from work by two youths in a Golf GTI. As he filled up his car at a local 24-hour garage they screeched onto the forecourt and shot off several rounds, wounding him in the leg. The only reason Tony wasn't killed there and then was because of his quick reactions - when he saw the gun being drawn he turned his body sideways to cut down the target area. He says he felt and heard at least one bullet fly past his chest. The police believe the two youths were angry that they, or associates, or possibly their girlfriends, had been turned away from the club.
gangsters walk fantazia door
Manchester's clubs are under siege. In the last two years, extreme levels of violence have helped close three high-profile venues, including The Hacienda. Promoters are blaming Greater Manchester Police (GMP) for failing to protect them and their businesses and their customers. On Hallowe'en of last year, Fantazia threw a 12,000 capacity event at Manchester's G-Mex. Clubbers, who had travelled from all over the country, endured queues of up to three hours as everyone, without exception, was strictly searched with hand-held metal detectors. Manchester's reputation had preceded it and the Birmingham-based security team were running a tight ship. In any other city the night would have gone off without major incident. Manchester is not any other city. Because the G-Mex is not regularly open no one gang regards it as their territory. Coupled with the fact that the various security teams were from out of town, the all-nighter was always going to attract serious attention. Gangsters from Cheetham Hill, Salford, Moss Side's Gooch and Doddinton (there are loose gang groupings named for all these Manchester districts) and all the smaller affiliated and non-affiliated crews inbetween turned up. A formidable bunch of characters to contend with when they have no intention of paying, let alone being searched for weapons. "I watched gangsters just 'walk' the door," recounts one eye-witness. "The security might as well have not been there. When one of them did wrestle with a guy, an arm went up and bam, he was wasted out cold on the floor. All the others started jumping over the barriers, people falling all over the place, security getting smacked to fuck. It was over and done with in about 30 seconds." Other crews went through the fire exits, the stage doors, or had "walked" the main entrance earlier in the night in smaller numbers. Some were said to have simply told security which gang they came from and that they would return and shoot anyone who got in their way. Andrew Gallagher, for Fantazia, said in a statement that the company was aware that there is a gang problem in Manchester when planning the event: "A 12,000 capacity dance event in one of the most notorious cities in the UK is definitely going to attract undesirable attention. We took every possible step to counter these problems and as a result Fantazia '97 was an enormous success. The G-MEX has since offered us another date for the near future."
why clubs can't win
Manchester's permanent clubs suffer the attentions of these sort of characters every week. Talk to almost any of the city's owners or promoters and the story goes like this: the fact these so-called gangsters feel they shouldn't have to pay to get in is not an issue. Neither is the fact they often feel they don't have to pay for expensive rounds of drinks. Both would be a small price to pay for a quiet life. But owners say there's no quiet life to be had if these characters are in your club en masse, getting their feet warm. Not only do they intimidate your customers and staff, they attract the attention of the police. Ultimately, if the problem is not dealt with, they cost you your licence and your livelihood. Refuse them entry at the door though, and they're likely to start taking pot shots at your doormen: this in turn will attract the attention of the police and could lead to you losing your licence and your livelihood. And although GMP have consistently stated that nothing licensees tell them will be used against them, you still fear that if you go to the police for help you will ultimately lose your licence and livelihood. Running a club in Manchester involves adopting a siege mentality. Vital energies are exhausted on security. Which gang regards your venue as their territory? Are they likely to turn up at your night? If so can your doormen keep them out? Or, more realistically, do they have sufficient respect for your doormen to behave? Are your doormen gang-affiliated? If so, which gang? Get it wrong and there will be trouble - your venue will attract persons of bad character and that might put your licence at risk. Independent black music promoters believe they have borne the brunt of this catch 22. So bad is the problem that the largest black music promoter in Manchester doesn't even organise dances in the city, choosing instead to run coaches out to provincial clubs. Tarred with the gangster brush, they claim they have effectively been run out of town. Certainly Manchester's city centre hosts no regular black music nights. The first to go were soul and r n' b. Rap and hip hop quickly followed in the fallout. Then for years it was impossible to establish a jungle night in the city for fear of gang violence which would lead to police retribution. The latest sub-genre to suffer the Mancunian kiss of death is speed garage. It makes Manchester's clubs conservative and backward: an extremely sore point for a city that once proudly pioneered acid house.
a promoter's story
Alexander (name changed) as been promoting clubs for ten years. He's been pushed out of more venues than he cares to remember. As a youth he used to run with a very serious local gang. By the age of 21 he'd seen three associates shot dead. His son was three and he wanted to see him grow up. He says he made a conscious decision to become a legitimate businessman. When Alexander organises a party he likes to man the door himself so he can take a personal responsibility for the safety of his customers. Recently, several youths arrived with no intention of paying and every intention of causing maximum grief. Alexander's seen it all before of course, but says it's getting worse. When people try it on with him and threaten to resort to gun play to get what they want, he says he feels "emasculated". "I can't push it as far as I'd like to because what's gonna happen on my door? Pure shit gonna go off and all people inside are gonna hear is gunfire - pap, pap, pap, pap," he mimics. "Then that's it, my night is over and done with, police are in and it's all over three fucking quid. "I've got three faces in my head right now, three faces who've pushed it too far and I'm ready to deal with them," he spits, grabbing a shot gun cartridge from the table and tossing it up and down. "That is the level I've got to go to protect my business. But I shouldn't have to, I'm a DJ and promoter and I left that gangster shit behind a long time ago."
Gangchester
"new breed" gangsters
Gangsters have long been a feature in clubs. For anyone who craves notoriety - as they so obviously do - there's no better place to express your wealth. What's changed in Manchester however, is that not only have they got younger, less respectful and even more prone to gun play, but their behaviour has influenced a myriad of wannabes - the drive-by on May 1st was carried out by three "unknown" Asian faces. Seasoned observers contend that the "new breed" are in absolutely no doubt that they can get away with murder. "They've seen man shoot another in broad daylight and get away with it because witnesses are too intimidated to speak up," says Alexander. "Not only that, but they've seen reputations get even bigger because of it." police refuse to man club doors
Closing down clubs, however, does not solve the problem. In September 1989 the police closed the infamous soul club, The Gallery. It was, at the time, a favourite haunt for Cheetham Hill, who were engaged in an all-out war with Moss Side's Doddinton. The following weekend the main players from the 'Hill' arrived at The Hacienda, flashed their guns at the doormen and walked in without paying. In the last eight years the trouble has continued to spread throughout the city. It has even overwhelmed the Gay Village and, most recently, the large mainstream discotheques - the free entry requirement at one has been known to be a menacing announcement of your Salford postcode. When they turn up at your venue you're left to face them down alone, complains Andy Spiro, director of Sankey's Soap, home to both Golden and Bugged Out. He resents what he perceives as a lack of support from the police. "If there was trouble with villains wrecking havoc or dealing drugs at the Arndale shopping centre," Spiro says, "the police wouldn't leave them to it, they'd be right in there dealing with it." Spiro wants GMP to actively police his club. He says he would welcome regular uniformed visits and high-profile policing around his door. "The real problem," he says, "are the little kids running round desperately trying to make a name for themselves. The doormen are terrified of them. "Forget all the various gang affiliations door teams have, or have had, they now want the police to get off their arses and clean up the streets," he adds. "The police know who these kids are, we know who they are, even your average punter could point them out, but the police aren't picking them up off the streets and shaking them down. They should keep harassing them until they stay out of town." However, in a faxed statement Chief Constable David Wilmot's office comments: "GMP will not and cannot provide a security service at licensed premises. Apart from being inappropriate due to a conflict of interest, it would also be logistically impossible - in the city centre alone there are over 150 licensed premises with club type late hours." (See insert p 76) Sankey's is not the first club to ask the police for help. In 1989 The Hacienda warned there was a gun problem brewing. They approached senior GMP officers with a plan to pay for police to stand on the door and control their crowd, as at local football matches and at clubs in America. They were unequivocally told that that was not and never would be policy. In 1991, after months of ferocious gang violence and intimidation, which culminated in the stabbing of six doormen, the club voluntarily closed to protect their staff. Unbeknown to management, the closure pre-empted a move by the police to oppose their licence on grounds of blatant drug use and dealing on the premises. The club reopened months later without police on the door. It also began to fight a rearguard action in the courts and the media. In July 1997 events finally caught up with them - as directors were declaring bankruptcy, senior police officers were moving to revoke their licence. This scuppered a planned management buyout and scared off at least one potential buyer. The local press reported that senior officers were concerned that the club would be sold to a new company acting as a front for city crime bosses.
warrington
club's solution
Although the letter of the law does not allow policemen to work as bouncers, Manchester's gang problems have been largely solved elsewhere. On December 5th 1995, a large contingent of the city's more notorious gangsters descended on the Mr Smith's nightclub in Warrington. They were armed and weren't in the mood to take no for an answer. Cheshire police decided to meet the problem head on. They made it known that there would never be a repeat performance and at the next event clubbers were met by a formidable police presence. There was an armed response unit parked in the first car park, another on the corner of the club, a third in the second car park and three riot vans up the street. Inside the foyer were four uniformed officers, arms crossed, surveying the crowd. The event passed off without incident. Over the following months the police presence was scaled down. Today there is rarely trouble, despite the fact that many of Manchester's gangsters still go there for a night out. Meanwhile, back in Manchester, licensees complain that trouble-makers are devastating the club scene. Club promoter Gary Martin actually believes "decent people" are staying out of the city centre because it's too intimidating. "In other cities you don't see 20 or 30 hooligans going out and enjoying themselves at the expense of other people," he says. "It's not allowed to happen because it's not right."
double murder
Minds were rudely focused on the issue when, in the early hours of October 4th 1997, there was a horrific double murder. At 3.20am 27-year-old Simon Speakman was kicked to death outside a take-away. Twenty minutes later, 22-year-old Steven Hughes was stabbed to death less than 400 yards away. They were not the sort of gang related tit-for-tat killings Manchester had learnt to live with. Rather it appeared both men had been murdered for coming to the aid of women. The local paper called the deaths 'The Good Samaritan Murders'. The city council was quick to react, calling for a minute's silence in clubs the following weekend - a move that enraged many licensees who feared they would simply become a scapegoat and suffer a police crackdown. Against all the odds, licensees argued, Manchester's clubs were safer than many provincial discotheques, where lager-fuelled violence is often random and indiscriminate. Perversely, given the extreme level of the violence on some doors, they had a point. No one dares hit anyone else in a drunken fury on a Manchester dancefloor in case they hit the wrong person - in case they're 'connected'. And in many ways, it is the very lawless nature of Manchester's club scene that's made it so exciting. From the Moss Side blues parties of the 80s to illegal acid house clubs like The Kitchen - based in a two-flat squat in Hulme until 1990 - to road block jungle dances, aggressive street culture has driven the party. But such aggression has now got out of hand. At Phenomenon One in 1995, the crowd were fired up by lads in the middle of the Hacienda dancefloor igniting butane gas canisters to produce huge four feet bursts of flame. The craze caught on. Staying one step ahead, lads at dances at the Lighthouse in Hulme started letting off their guns into the ceiling in appreciation of new dubplates. It became a habit and the promoters had to put money behind the bar at the start of the evening to cover damage. When one lad decided to discharge a pump action shotgun right in the middle of the club, the police decided they had to pay a visit to the venue. Extreme levels of violence are killing Manchester's clubs. Since the city officially went 24 hours over four years ago, very few have dared to regularly stay open all night. To do so attracts gangsters, they say. Spiro admits there's nothing he would like better than to open Sankey's until dawn every weekend. "But sadly," he opines, "it's not safe for us to do so because the police can't or won't protect us."
police response
To the police it seems they just can't win. When a door war over control of the club Home culminated in a terrifying show of force from over 40 balaclava-clad Salford hooligans, the police went in hard and fast. Running fights inside the venue ended in five arrests but afterwards no moves were made to revoke the club's licence. Even so, public confidence was shattered and Home finally closed. Since then Greater Manchester Police have adopted a more pro-active stance and in September of this year did something they had previously said they would not do: for two Saturdays in a row two police officers sat in a van outside Sankey's. Local club owners hope it marks a shift in police attitude. Yet, even though the limited police cover was welcomed by Sankeys' management, they also warned that more consistent and high profile policing right across the city was necessary if the problem was truly to be solved in the long run. City councillors meanwhile maintain that the only way to overcome Manchester's unique problems is for owners and police to have "very honest and confidential dialogue". However, despite brokering high level meetings between the two sides, leading city councillor Pat Karney admits that a trusting relationship is a very long way off. One promoter, who preferred to remain anonymous for fear of "police attention", said that although the official attitude seems to be improving, under the surface little has changed. "Get on the wrong side of them, for whatever reason, and they'll take you down," he warns. "Once they target your club they're like a dog with a bone. They don't want to deal with the problem head on together with promoters, they just want arrests and no more clubs." Anthony Stevens, a promoter of some ten years standing, may have been less wary about going on the record, but he was no less outspoken. "I've heard it all before," he says. "In fact this is the third time in the last six years the police have made these kind of noises. It's just to lull everyone into a false sense of security while they hope things die down."
how holy city
zoo survived
Move out of the city centre, which is under the jurisdiction of police division A, and you hear a different story. Holy City Zoo falls under the immediate control of Division C and Green Heys police station. When the club was the focus of violent Salford characters they went to the police for help. They say they could not be happier. In March 1996 the club was forced to close. A member of a well-known Salford family had "gone ballistic", randomly hitting people. There were eleven casualties and two clubbers had to go to hospital. The music was stopped, the lights switched on and the man finally cornered by security. Because of who he was they were reluctant to physically tackle him and tried instead to cajole him into leaving. He got his penis out and pissed on the bar in front of the brewery's area manager. Together with police help and advice, Holy City Zoo installed £55,000 worth of security equipment, including sophisticated CCTV. Today you can't even drive up to the door without being watched. More importantly the images are beamed live via computer ISDN link to the police station: an all-too-common tactic after trouble kicks off is for gangsters to storm behind the bar and destroy crucial evidence recorded on video tape. For their part, the Green Heys co-ordinated a series of high-profile uniformed visits and patrols, "to show we're taking an interest and prepared to do something about it if offences are seen to be committed," says Inspector Alan Chantler. "We still provide regular visits and we would do that for any other premises in the area." This applies to large brewery concerns and small independents alike. "If we let one club go in the area they're all going to go and that's not what we want," PC Jim Collins had explained earlier. "You've got to make a stand somewhere." Other club owners say they'd love to move their venues to Division C. Rightly or wrongly, they believe that city centre-based officers don't want to implement the measures they feel are needed to deal with the gangsters; that even if they find a sympathetic ear the officer is often promoted and they have to start again from scratch. Simply not true, say senior officers. Public safety is the priority. In the past year, 36 initiatives to deal specifically with violence and sexual offences, over and above routine patrols, have been launched. Yes, Manchester has problems, but so does every other large city. Inspector David Jones at Central Licensing adds that he'd be worried if licensees were singing his praises; it is after all his job to police them. He also has his own theories why owners are reluctant to confide in the police. He said: "Generally speaking the doors (and their security firms) are running the clubs and if the licensee isn't prepared to come to us and tell us what's going on we're left with very little alternative." And what's that alternative? No less than to close the venue down.
straw that broke hacienda's back
Inspector Jones defends the decision to oppose The Hacienda's licence last July. The closure was two years in the making, he says. He and senior officers believed Manchester would be, and is, a better place without the club. It was having a bad effect on the city's image. Two years of covert drugs surveillance and a catalogue of reported and unreported violent altercations and assaults were weighing heavy on its survival. The final straw, says Inspector Jones, came when he and seven magistrates and another senior police officer, sitting in a minibus after a routine visit into the venue, witnessed a near fatal assault in the early hours of June 28th 1997. 18-year-old Andrew Delahunty was hit over the head from behind with what looked like a metal bar before being pushed into the path of an on-coming car. Delahunty sustained a fractured skull and spinal damage and was rushed to hospital. He now suffers from a speech impediment. The Hacienda management were quick to point out that when trouble kicked off in the club their security ejected a group of trouble-makers. It raises this question: should the club be held responsible for what happens if they return later, they ask? In effect, that a club must essentially 'police the streets'? The Hacienda management also strenuously deny allegations that their door staff were out of control, or in any way running the club. They added that if the police had a problem with one of their doormen they should have dealt with it through Door Safe - a city council and GMP-sponsored registration scheme specifically launched to police them. Inspector Jones is adamant that now new owners for the venue have finally been found, they will not employ doormen from Manchester. "Otherwise they're going to come with the baggage of all the local villains and gangsters, whoever you pick. You can fly them in from Brussels for all I care, just as long as they're from outside Manchester." But as one ex-bouncer points out, clubs have no choice but to employ "colourful" local characters if the police do not directly get involved on their doors. "Who else is going to stand on the firing line?" he questions. "You've got all these lunatics going out, who's going to control them and stop them getting in? Not some goodie-two-shoes who's got a bit of reputation in some small mill town." fear of the future
MEANWHILE, the prognosis for Manchester is not good. Not only do licensees and the police wholly distrust each other, but local gang politics are in dangerous turmoil. Rumblings from Salford indicate that the younger firm is beginning to feel they've outgrown the control of their peers and want a larger slice of the action. Conversely, Cheetham Hill has been united by the recent release from prison of a major figure. No one is sure whether that is good news or bad news, only that change means trouble. Meanwhile, in Moss Side drug revenues are drying up and younger 'trigger happy' gang members are getting desperate. Recently one even robbed an older member of the same gang at gun point - something previously unheard of. Rightly or wrongly, members of Doddinton and Gooch also believe they have been cut out of the lucrative job of club security and want the city "carved up" evenly. If they are serious the ensuing door war would make the last one look like a cat fight. Added into this is a hitherto unknown Asian factor. Bradford has long had gangs of the type Manchester is sadly famous for. Slowly troops and influence have been absorbed. No one knows how seriously these new crews take themselves or whether they would go head-to-head with the city's established players, but at least one recent shooting has been attributed to them. Outside of London, Manchester was the city that broke acid house and many of its subsequent incarnations to the nation. The legendary Hacienda Nude nights, Konspiracy, Most Excellent's pioneering Balearica, Madchester and the Happy Mondays, even Manumission, they all originated here. But with a gang problem as out of control as this, and despite the success against all odds of nights like Bugged Out, it's going to prove very difficult for Manchester to pioneer anything again.
manchester's gangs
Salford A catch-all term for the firms that operate out of the Salford area of Greater Manchester. They're predominately white and the main split is by age - one older firm of thirtysomethings and a younger firm of lads, mainly under 25. However, unlike other gangs Salford also clearly splits along family lines as well.
Cheetham Hill Chiefly a black and mixed race gang operating out of the Cheetham Hill area of North Manchester. They're currently the tightest of all the gangs in the city and despite the relatively small size of Cheetham Hill they're arguably the largest single crew.
Gooch A mainly black gang that operates out of the Moss Side area of south central Manchester. They take their name from Gooch Close and are split by age. The older original thirtysomething members have started to move away from the area, though the younger trigger kids are still predominately Moss Side residents.
Doddinton A mostly black gang that also operates out of the Moss Side area of south central Manchester. They take their name from Doddinton Close on the West side but, unlike Gooch, the younger trigger kids dominate, as fewer older original members are still actively involved.
None of these crews are homogeneous and all of them are riddled with affiliations and splits between independent crews.
manchester's violent lows
September 1989 Police close The Gallery, a favourite haunt for Cheetham Hill. The following weekend they turn up at The Hacienda.
Christmas 1989 Cheetham Hill turn up at Discotheque Royales. When doormen attempt to bar their entrance one is badly beaten up. Later players simultaneously enter the club through three fire exits, guns are drawn and punters are taxed (the method by which club-goers are forcibly made to hand money over with threats of violence if they do not).
1990 The unorganised beginnings of a door war between Cheetham Hill and Salford spark at Konspiracy. Violent taxings of the night's takings become the norm. In Spring 1991, the police decide to close the club.
Summer 1990 The long-running illegal club The Kitchen suffers numerous taxings. Promoters complain that it has now just become a hang-out for local Moss Side brass. It is closed after the back studio is taxed.
Christmas 1990 After a number of turn-aways at Piccadilly 21, the manager starts receiving live ammunition in the post.
January 1991 After months of ferocious gang violence and intimidation t The Hacienda closes to protect staff. It re-opens with an airport-style metal detector at the entrance.
June 1991 Six doormen at The Hacienda are stabbed. The assailants had managed to evade the new metal detector. Ten people are arrested.
August 1991 Moss Side's Doddinton are down the front of the Papa San gig at the International II. Cheetham Hill enter the venue from the back and attempt to shoot them over the heads of gig goers. Doddinton return fire. The International II stops hosting reggae gigs.
October 1992 CS gas canisters are let off on a packed dancefloor at Funhouse at The PSV. The following week a student is caught in crossfire and wounded in the leg. These actions culminate in the closure of the club.
June 1992 Several Salford lads are refused entry to Most Excellent at the Wiggly Worm. They return in a stolen car and ram the entrance. The action forces the closure of the club.
June 1994 Despite a relatively trouble-free night at an Underground Sounds jungle dance at UMIST Students' Union a young man is shot and wounded on nearby Sackville Street. Future dances are cancelled.
August 1994 The sell-out Monday jungle dances at Home are cancelled after three weeks. Management say they cannot ask their staff to suffer physical and verbal abuse from "gangsters high on crack".
April 1995 A doorman from The Hacienda, 26-year-old Terry Farrimond, is shot dead near his home in Swinton.
Summer 1995 The habit of letting guns off into the ceiling of The PSV during dances gets out of hand when someone lets off a pump-action shotgun. The police pick so many bullets out of the ceiling that whenever it rains the club floods. The following month three girls are hospitalised by ricochets. Future events are cancelled.
Autumn 1995 After several drive-by shootings, the door war over control of Home culminates in running battles inside between 40 balaclava-clad Salford hooligans and police. The club closes.
March 1996 Holy City Zoo closes to install £55,000 worth of security after a Salford man goes round randomly hitting people. Eleven casualties and two hospital cases.
May 1997 Three Asian youths drive by a club and try to shoot the doormen dead.
June 1997 18-year-old Andrew Delahunty is assaulted outside The Hacienda. He sustains a fractured skull and spinal damage. The police make moves to revoke the club's licence.
July 1997 A doorman is followed home by two youths. When he makes a pit stop at a garage he's shot and wounded in the leg.
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greater manchester police's official response to our report
"GMP maintain a robust stance against violent crime, wherever it occurs.
"GMP is one of the few forces in the country that operate a dedicated unit to deal with armed crime. This has been highly successful in taking large amounts of weaponry out of circulation, in arresting and disrupting the activities of so-called gang members who would be likely to target nightclubs."
Responsibility for security in clubs and on doors
"Manchester city centre has one of the highest densities of licensed premises outside of London. Irrespective of this fact, its levels of recorded violence remain comparable with cities like Liverpool, Newcastle or Leeds."
The allegation that "club owners and promoters are left to police their venues without adequate back-up from GMP".
"GMP does provide back-up and support to licensees, promoters and managers. A dedicated plain clothes unit regularly meets with licensees and makes visits undercover to identify and arrest drug dealers and other criminals. The Central Licensing unit at Bootle Street meets with all new licensees and offers advice and support. "It is not true that we seek to close venues down at the first sign of trouble, rather the reverse. It is only as a last resort that we seek to oppose or revoke a licence, although where it is necessary we do not shy away from taking action. In the last two years, in respect of only four licensed premises in the city out of hundreds has revocation been sought. Even in those cases advice and support had been provided and had not been acted on. "Overall GMP has a long-standing and good relationship with the licensing trade, breweries and local authorities aimed to work in partnership to improve safety and the quality of life. The police are fully committed to making the city ever safer and we will continue to play our part in partnership alongside others."
