There’s a quote that goes, “Old doormen never die, they just fade away.” Or something like that. That’s the way Irv Johnson slipped off my radar. I always stopped to chat with Irv when he worked Pink Elephant. My nightly rounds brought me over to the 27th Street corridor, and Irv and another doorman, Stefan, were a constant. Then it was only Stefan, and then nobody bothered with 27th Street, and Irv was reduced to a rumor. Facebook linked us together again. Club people, like hookers and strippers, need to have an exit strategy. Very few make enough loot to retire to a condo in Miami, or a ranch in Montana. For many, it’s just a roller coaster ride of loot, toot and booty. Many, like myself, one night find themselves too old and disinterested, and look to get out. Nightlife isn’t good for most resumes, and unless they have a plan, they have a problem. I managed to segue into design and writing, but many club people’s only skill sets have to deal with model wrangling, or slinging shots, and as time moves them away from the beat of the street, they become less effective. Irv is a pro. He had all the right tools to do the door right: a great memory for faces, style, knowledge of the business, and most importantly, a big heart—which got him through the most trying of nights. With a few notable exceptions, most great door people love people, and approach their gig as if all are equal, but they have a job to do.

Sometimes, a person rolling up to the ropes is unaware that 5 minutes earlier, the door person was physically threatened or verbally abused. The doorman is required to move on, and get the people in with a smile, and a friendly hello. Door people endure abuse, inclement weather, off-hour fears, and very late nights with too many bad distractions. It takes a certain type of person to remain professional. All the great ones take pride in their work, as they orchestrate every night.

Steve Rubell, Peter Gatien, and many of the most successful owners were constant fixtures at the door. They knew that the night depended on what happened there. Now, many clubs are abandoning this concept and using a forced RSVP, text messaging, and other technologies to control the entrance sequence. It seems to be working well at Provocateur, and other high-end venues. There may be a time where the doorman position will become a forsaken trade. I always thought it to be an art form, and I was privileged to work with some of the best there ever were: Kenny Kenny, King, Wass, Richard Alverez, Howie, Ross, Irv, Andrea, Tom Starker, and others who have faded from this morning’s memory. I caught up with Irv Johnson and asked him where he faded to.

I heard that you are returning to NY the first week of August. What will you be doing here? The fall season tends to be very busy in the television ad, and promo world. I suspect I'll be working on different TV spots. In the immediate time, "Boy Wonder" written and directed by Michael Morrissey, and the latest film I scored, will screen at the Rhode Island International Film Festival on the 12th. I'm going up there to support and meet with other filmmakers. I also will score a short by Andrew Bowler called "Time Freak," a really funny piece on obsession, and I’ll start work on a pseudo documentary by Moniere Noor called "Zen Nation," a piece about a man's distant travels throughout the world to find higher levels of consciousness.

Where are you living now and what are you doing? I am in Copenhagen, Denmark, where my wife, son and I have an apartment. We also have a loft in Bushwick, where we live as well. I've been in Copenhagen since May, playing with my boy, meeting with filmmakers here(and in Malmö, Sweden), and learning to speak Danish.

When working at clubs, at either the door or promotion, was it always a means to an end? Or at one point did you decide you needed an exit strategy? When I first landed in the club business, it was a much different environment than it is today. Clubs were more artistic, and those who worked there were respected. Creatives of various disciplines found themselves working in some capacity, as it was both an artistic outlet, as well as a good source of income. When I started, I was between bands and launching my first production house. I quickly became a popular fixture on the scene, and also managed to earn a good living— enough that I left the music business to pursue it full time. I soon realized that I was, at heart, a musician, and could never really escape that reality. On the other hand, I enjoyed the club business too, so I endeavored to have it both ways, much like Wass, who has done an amazing job at balancing two diametrically opposed worlds. That said, I guess my 'exit strategy' was to leverage the vast contacts I harvested while acting as a club impresario, and use those relationships to segue into the creative world. At times it worked great, other times it was hard to shake others perception of me as a night life personality, in favor of the classically trained musician I am. However, clubs did give me my first breaks into what I am doing now.

If you were to return to clubs, where would you work and at what capacity? Good question. I've been offered money at times to open up my own place. I could consider that, or to become an adviser or creative director. I don't have any formed opinions.

Tell me a door story. Once, while working the door at the Supper Club for Nelson and Anthony's popular Thursday night party, a royal, who I shall not mention, wanted to come in. The problem was, he was in company of too many men, and all were 'casually dressed.' I gently and with respect, explained that I could not accommodate his entire party and so was refused. The following week he came back with his driver and car, with the right combination, and gained entry and thanked me for my handling of the situation the week prior. Those who may read this article and are of modern day club world would find my refusal reprehensible, or say that I was a horrible doorman and was on an ego trip, ad nauseum. Most clubs today thrive on what celebrity was at the party, or how much money was made. But in those days, for those parties, gaining entrance to a club was the all time equalizer, and it didn't matter about your status or your money. People who went out knew what they were getting into, and for the most part, played by the rules of the game. I would like to add that I never allowed my ego to get in the way of choosing people to get in. To me it was a job that I wanted to perform well. I would never turn down someone for sport, or with the attitude that I was better then them, or that the party was too good for them. Rather, my snap decisions were based on attire, attitude, company, what the party was for, the clientele inside, and if I thought they would have a good time if let in. If I let someone in who probably wouldn't have a good time, but thought they would, they would be a drag on the overall energy of the party—or worse. Imagine being in a room full of people having a good time, and you’re being ignored? Not fun for the person, add some drinks, it could equal chaos.

What have you missed? Creativity in nightlife. A thinking outside the box in entertainment, that would make someone totally escape the drudgery of their day-to-day lives, only to have an adventure at night.

You worked at every significant club, except Life, how did that happen? If you mean, "Why did I work at every significant club?" then the answer is a short one: I was very popular at the time, every club/promoter wanted me to work at their venue. If the question is “Why didn't I work at Life?” It was because you never asked me to. I was quite surprised, given the times, but I am sure you had your reasons, and I totally respect them. In the end, "Life" was a huge success, even without my participation.

In your time, what were the best clubs, and why? There have been quite a few, but I will limit mine to 5, and what I see as the firsts in a genre.

AREA: Although I was way too young to be going out at the time, I caught the last remnants of Area. Area changed its theme and interior from month to month. It was true, expressive, real-time, chic, performance art.

NELL'S: It was the first of the smaller 'boutique' clubs of its time. It hired only the best of the best, and had the most notorious—and strict—door policies ever. But once you were in, somehow you felt as though you were part of a family.

SOUND FACTORY: The original, before it became popular. It was a late night spectacle. When I yearned for seeing something original, and not be seen, this was the club I liked to go to. It was a primarily gay club, but was frequented by straight people from time to time.

LIFE: Life was an original in that, although it referenced older clubs, like Nell's, it also addressed the needs of the times, and became its own unique product, a hybrid if you will, that others followed.

LOTUS: Although I didn't frequent it a lot, I mention this club insofar as it made a big impact on the 'new' downtown/bottle service/model/euro trash venues. Lotus was the paradigm for those that followed. Although it referenced places like Chaos, and other "bottle service" venues, it seemed to synchronize all the right parts to make a whole. There are, of course, many more but these are the ones I felt worth mentioning, and by the way, I purposely left out the ones I worked at, which were also amazing and ground breaking.

For those who want to know more about Irv: www.chameleonsoundesign.com www.reverbnation.com/irvjohnson