THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Friday, October 13, 1995 TAG: 9510130057
SECTION: DAILY BREAK PAGE: E1 EDITION: FINAL
SOURCE: BY CARIN PRESCOTT, CAMPUS CORRESPONDENT
LENGTH: Long : 118 lines
IN HIS DORM room at Virginia Wesleyan College, Deaton Rowland slides into his favorite Saturday night dancing pants and combs his curly locks into place.
In a room at Little Creek Naval Amphibious Base, Jason Markowitz throws on a T-shirt and jeans and convinces a few of his Navy buddies to head out to the Oceanfront.
In Barhamsville, Va., Melissa Mountcastle and her friend Sabrina Brady dress in flowery outfits and jump in the car to drive 45 minutes to their usual weekend hangout.
It's been a long week for all of them, and they're determined to dance.
But most of the Virginia Beach nightclubs where they might sweat it out to the hottest new dance tunes don't want their business because they're all under 21. But they know where to go - the only two clubs in the area that allow the admission of minors who are 18 and older.
The Abyss and Club Eclipse have all the right stuff: a bar, loud music, dance floor, flashing lights and a smoky atmosphere. And because of the relaxed admission policy, a whole new group of young people is getting into the club scene, packing the house on Friday and Saturday nights.
``We're always here, every weekend,'' said Sabrina, 18, a freshman at Christopher Newport University.
``We get here around 11 p.m. and stay until 3 a.m.,'' said Melissa, 19, a freshman at Thomas Nelson Community College. ``I meet a lot of people here just dancing.''
The Abyss on 19th Street opened in August 1994. A year later, Rex Harrison Jr., owner of September's Restaurant and Nightclub in Virginia Beach, opened up Club Eclipse on Laskin Road.
One difficulty in allowing minors into a nightclub - and a reason that many club owners shy away from the younger crowd - is making sure they don't consume alcohol. But these guys have it figured out. Before entering a club, everyone must flash an ID. Those under 21 are branded with a stamp on the back of the hand. Those who are legal wear brightly colored plastic wristbands.
Here are the club's law: If minors are caught even holding an alcoholic beverage, they are thrown out, no questions asked.
``A few (minors) try to get served,'' said Darla Clift, manager of Club Eclipse. ``But the majority don't try. They're just happy to have a place to go and dance.''
Both clubs are open from 9 p.m. until around 4 a.m. Judging by the throngs streaming through the doors each weekend, both are pretty happening places.
Jenne Shaw, 19, of Virginia Beach, is a regular at Club Eclipse. After waitressing at Sneeky Pete's until 2 a.m. on the weekends, she comes into the club to socialize and dance.
Clift estimates that 30 percent of the club's clientele is under 21. Mostly, they come to dance, socialize and drink soda. And they're willing to pay $5 and $6 a night to do just that.
``I don't drink, so it doesn't matter,'' Jenne said. ``I like the dance music.''
Party time
Jason and his Navy buddies stride into Club Eclipse at around 11 p.m. A little later, perched on a chair at the edge of the dance floor, he checks out the scene. One by one people stand up and move to the beat. Markowitz is a little hesitant. His body moves uncontrollably to the rhythm, but he's stuck to his chair, too shy to get on the dance floor.
``It's my first time,'' he admits.
Jeremy Brooks, 21, says Club Eclipse is even better than clubs he's been to in New York City. Brooks, a Navy man stationed in Norfolk, says the club ``definitely has potential'' as a place to meet girls.
With the exception of the dance floor, there's not much pick-up movement going on in the club.
``I've never come here alone,'' said Tim Maxim, 18, a Virginia Wesleyan freshman. `It's not the type of scene where you meet a lot of people.'' Where he's from, Farmington, Conn., there are no clubs for people under 21, he says.
``Here there's not much choice with only two clubs, but it's pretty cool,'' he said.
While the city sleeps
It's nearly midnight and just down the road, nearly 50 people stand in line to get into the Abyss.
``Freaks, ravers, Navy people, deadheads,'' Deaton ticks off a mental list.
Lindsay King, 18, of Virginia Beach, is at the Abyss every night it's open. And she knows most everyone there.
``Ravers, booger ravers, Navy and yuppies show every now and then,'' she said scanning the crowd.
The music changes sporadically from alternative to rap to techno. Strobe lights flash along with every song, and a steam machine blows intermittent puffs of smoke. With only inches of space available to move, people continue to pack the dance floor bumping into each other, swiping sweat, but having a good time.
Melissa and Sabrina aren't discouraged by the crush. Sabrina describes the Abyss as a ``big meat market with a big dance floor,'' but on the dance floor they don't even notice or care. They're in the zone.
And they don't mind the long drive from Barhamsville, which is north of Williamsburg, as long as they get to dance.
``I like socializing; I also like meat markets,'' Deaton said.
But not everyone dances. Many just come to watch. On the second floor of the Abyss, people sit on bar stools and peer over the railing deciphering the dancers' nonverbal queues.
By 2:30 a.m., some of the nocturnal crowd is done for the night while others are just arriving. The dance floor is still full, a writhing mass of gyrating bodies.
Sweaty and sticky from a full night's workout, Deaton and his friends head for the dorms at Virginia Wesleyan, glad they have a place to get their fix.
``I'm happy,'' he said. ``If I couldn't dance, I'd be really mad. It's like therapy.'' MEMO: Carin Prescott is a senior at Virginia Wesleyan College.
ILLUSTRATION: Color photo by L. Todd Spencer
Laura Mignuolo moves to the music at Virginia Beach's Club Eclipse,
one of tho 18-and-over dance clubs in Hampton Roads.
by CNB