Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: WEDNESDAY, August 24, 1994 TAG: 9408240025
SECTION: EXTRA PAGE: 1 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: By KATHLEEN WILSON STAFF WRITER
DATELINE: LENGTH: Long
And he's sitting on a stool just inside the door of the Coffee Pot with a fistful of dollars.
Charlie Nichols, 42, appears to be every mother's nightmare of whom her daughter would date or her son would hang out with.
But what most mothers don't realize is that Charlie Nichols' primary duty, sitting on that stool, isn't to collect a cover charge.
Nichols believes his primary obligation is to take care of the sons and daughters of all of those mothers who would be horrified if he showed up at their home.
``From the minute anyone walks in that door,'' he says, ``I am their best friend, whether they realize it or not.''
As liquor-control laws have become more stringent, a bouncer's responsibilities have changed. The days of big goons walking through bars with oversized attitudes either looking for a fight - or a fight to break up - are gone.
The bouncers of the `90s are more like guardian angels. They take seriously their responsibility to see that everyone gets home safely.
Over at Ward's Rock Cafe you'll find Michael ``Bear'' Russell, an imposing 6 foot, 2 inch man who weighs 346 pounds. At 35, he's something of a legend among other bouncers; he's been bouncing locally since he was 19. Some call him ``the dean of bouncers.''
And the first thing Russell will tell you is that he'd prefer you refer to what he and the others do as security.
``I just don't like the word bouncer. It doesn't reflect at all what we do.''
He remembers the `70s, when the drinking age was lower and ``security'' was an entirely different vocation. It's next to impossible for Russell to forget. He's got a foot-long scar on his back that required 22 stitches - the result of being battered with a beer bottle while bouncing for a bar in Blacksburg.
Though these guys seem to get their jobs on brawn alone, the truth is brawn isn't what makes a good bouncer.
``You have to like people,'' says Russell. ``You can't be a bully. You've got to have a very level head and be fair to everyone.''
He makes no exceptions. Despite knowing personally many who frequent Ward's, even a 36-year-old patron he speaks to just about every week has to produce a driver's license each time.
``What's right is right and what's fair is fair,'' he says. ``And what's right and fair for one person must be right and fair to all.''
He knows the ABC laws inside and out.
Russell doesn't just turn away those without an I.D. The most sensitive part of what he does is keep those who are already intoxicated out of the bar, in the belief that it's far more important for him to see these people find their way home safely than for the bar get another cover charge and more business on drinks.
And while Russell is not a police officer - during the day he works in housekeeping for Community Hospital - the man is indeed the police officer of Ward's Rock Cafe.
``I have full power of arrest on these premises,'' he says.
Around the corner on Campbell Avenue, Officer L.C. Ollie says bouncers like Russell have made his job a lot easier.
``Downtown Roanoke is a safer place to be at night because of good bouncers,'' he said.
At Nostalgia, Jay Johnson turns away two would-be customers without much explanation. Later he explains to a reporter, ``By using the language he used in front of you, he showed you no respect. If you were a customer inside, that's how he would treat you. We don't allow that here.''
Charlie Nichols at the Coffee Pot says the most important thing a bouncer needs to remember is that it's a job. There's no vendetta.
``If you treat people right when they come in the door, we won't have problems inside,'' he says.
He also has a keen eye for who comes in with whom and tries to get to know as many as he can by name.
``Keeping track of who's with who allows me to go find their friends when they've had too much to drink and have THEM handle getting a friend home safely, rather than being thrown out by me,'' says Nichols. ``But we'll drive you home, call a cab, whatever it takes to see you get home safely. That's the most important part about what I do - that when we close down for the night, that I feel secure that everyone who spent the evening there made it home safely.''
The pay for an evening of all this responsibility and angst?
An average of just $30.
At the Elephant Walk at the Holiday Inn Tanglewood, it takes a bouncing crew of four to keep things under control.
Unlike Nichols, Johnson and Russell, these are younger, smaller guys, wearing black pants, tuxedo shirts and ties.
``I I.D. everyone from 9 to 90,'' explains Patrick Holloway, who was turning 27 in another half-hour. Holloway, who's 6 feet tall and weighs 200 pounds, mans the main entrance with Steve White, 24, a relative runt among bouncers at 5 foot 8 and a mere 165 pounds.
``It doesn't matter at all how big I am,'' stresses White. ``The most important thing is that I have a cool head. It's the brains, not the brawn.''
The two are quick to identify the biggest challenge of what they do each weekend:
``Trying to talk rationally to someone who's drunk,'' says Holloway.
"It just can't be done,'' echoes White.
Most of that is handled at a back door of the bar that leads to the bathroom, manned by 26-year-old Tony Dudley, who is 6 foot 5 and weighs 300 pounds.
``My job is to watch who's stumbling to the bathroom, then sit `em down in that chair and then find their friends inside to get their friend home safely,'' he said. ``If they don't have a ride, we get them a taxi. But they do not get back inside the bar and they do not get into their car.''
Dudley admits he has an advantage in recognizing someone who's drunk.
``I used to be a heavy drinker, and all I have to do is take one look at their eyes.''
He says he's only had one fight - if you could call it that.
``It lasted about three seconds,'' he figures.
He admits he can ``be a grizzly bear if provoked.''
But that just doesn't happen.
Occasionally, someone who's had too much will threaten to hit him.
``I sit them down and tell them to think twice about that,'' he says. "I tell `em, `I'm sober; you're drunk.
```Now who do you think is going to win?'''
by CNB