I caught up with a seemingly suave, cool and collected hospitality designer, Robert McKinley, as he prepared for tonight's opening of Good Units, the brand new space in the Hudson Hotel basement. Publicist Steve Kasuba told me Robert was frantic finishing up, but I sensed no panic, except from Kasuba. One thing is for sure, when opening a joint, in 99.99% of the cases, no matter how much time you get to complete the task, there will be paint drying opening night. I love Robert McKinley’s designs. I loved Cain Luxe, thought Surf Lodge was a home run and GoldBar a masterpiece. Shoot, I’d go to GoldBar even if Jon Lennon wasn’t there

When cops investigate a crime, motive is at the top of their list. What motivates local police to be so anti-club sometimes? It can’t be that the patrons are having more fun then they are, can it? Most of the time cops on club details drink coffee, have a few donuts and look at the talent (the hot girls on their way to a club). They mediate little disputes. The ones on horses pose for photos with said talent. It’s all kind of cozy, with managers and security exchanging small talk with the cops, like “how ‘bout those Yankees” and “get those people on line.” Then one night all hell breaks loose and mean cops with other city agencies in tow raid the joints.

Joe Strummer of The Clash once sang these lyrics: “Tommy gun, you cant be a hero in an age of none.” I think these words apply to today’s interview with club folk hero Tommy Gunn. Tommy adds an ‘N’ to his last name, which stands for “Nothing he can’t do.” Tommy Gunn was the golden boy, the leader of the pack, the go to guy, the man about town in the 1980s, in what many consider the best age of clubs. The A-list started with him. Word came to me that my old friend was going to throw a party. There hasn’t been a “for real” Tommy Gunn party since I cared what people thought of me. The day after this party Tommy will be as much a hero to a new generation as he was to another. I caught up with him and asked him a few questions. He rambled on for days.

As approximately 400 new Yorkers are facing unemployment due to the cities World War III mentality in regards to the smoking ban, I give you Hogan Gorman. Hogan is one of the countless thousands who support themselves in bars, restaurants and clubs, as they pursue an artistic career. It’s easy for Mayor Mike not to grasp what life is like for mortals trying to create something and eek out an existence in this very tough town. He and his pals live in palaces. His people’s shoes barely touch the pavement, as fast cars and helicopters whisk them about. People are not statistics and someone has to get this man to understand that as he tries to make life better for all of us, a lot of us ants are being crushed by his bureaucracy. So much of the vibrancy of New York is being destroyed by this benevolent, but very out of touch, despot. I believe Mayor Bloomberg is a brilliant and good man. I also believe in banning cigarettes. The enforcement of laws should not fall on citizens, but on city agencies. Unfortunately these agencies are bereft of everything, save for short sightedness, because of budget restraints. Stiff fines to violating patrons given by undercover cops will soon dissuade smokers from smoking in bars. Closing down joints and putting people on unemployment and welfare seems harsh. Hogan Gorman has worked in the clubs and now has achieved one of her goals--a one woman show.

The club kid movement dominated New York City in the ’80s and early ’90s. For most nocturnal revelers, club kids represented the golden age of nightlife. In those days, every serious club dedicated at least some of its bank to bring the fun, the havoc and the cool. Twenty years ago, a visit from Michael Alig and his entourage—always paid for by owners with deep pockets—granted the space legitimacy among the young and hot. Murders, arrests and scandals stigmatized the movement, and Alig was tucked away in an exclusive venue with a very tough door: the upstate prison where he remains incarcerated today. But a new generation of style-savvy merrymakers has risen to carry the torch. Back in Alig’s day, the annual “Changing of the Guard” party and accompanying group photo (example above) announced a who’s-who of upcoming club kings and queens. This yearly photograph and the subsequent event was social validation, or social death, for that generation. 20 years latter, for BlackBook's December/January issue, we took a group shot of the current crop of denizens of the deep, dark night. This is, of course, only a glimpse of the current scene, as there are hundreds more of these colorful revelers not pictured. The modern club kids are scattered in many scenes and across multiple boroughs, without an Alig-type leader to galvanize them into one big driving cultural force. Here is a closer look at the next generation, with photos by Gina Sachi Codi.

The Village Tart is both a yet to be discovered floozy I will attempt to hook up with at my birthday party tomorrow night, and the name of Leslie Bernard’s new Kenmare Street corner pastry and light fare joint. I had cappuccino and cake with my man yesterday afternoon. It is a triumph. Real estate maestro James Famularo joined us and we exchanged war stories for hours, alternating between Pellegrino and cappuccino. The space is right next door to the Nur/Sevigny offering at 98 Kenmare street, which is under construction. The local yokels on the community board have restricted the hours of operations of the restaurant, which should prevent it from being the next Beatrice, but I don’t think that was ever the intention anyway.

On Tuesday I will be celebrating yet another birthday. Birthdays, New Years and Thanksgiving are naturally reflective times. They are times to look at where I came from and look, not only, to where I’m headed, but why I’m headed there. I’m not going to tell old war stories today--I’ll just sort of eek them out to you as time goes by-- but I will tell you where I’m going. My design gig has taken me back again to Vegas. I did that room at Tao a couple of years ago and was involved early on in the new City Center as co-owner of SLDesign. It's supremely funny that a company that has my name on it continues to use that name long after I have left. In my old age, I have learned not to worry about such things. I let sad little people with small...hands...have their little victories. I just feel sorry for them and keep moving on my own path. My partnership with Marc Dizon and our company Lewis & Dizon is much more fun and producing way better product anyway. We are currently developing a dozen places in New York, Vegas and even overseas. Ill tell you all about them in time.

Club owners answering notices to appear at court about smoking in their establishments were shocked to find out that a $200 or $2000 dollar fine wasn't on the agenda. As reported in the Daily News a revocation of their food and beverage permit was the order of the day. This doomsday approach to the smoking ban has sent ripples through clubland, which was probably the idea. I received calls from owner/management types looking for an attorney with experience with the health department. Others called to see if a class action suit could be organized to stop the constant harassment of nightspots by the city. The clubs in big trouble are M2 ultra lounge, The Box, Lit, Southside, and the Imperial.

I am totally schizo when it comes to Michael Alig. I hate him, hope for him, support him, abandon him, forget him, obsess over him. He was my dear friend, but then he betrayed me, everyone who loved him and, of course, himself. Yeah, yeah, yeah, there have been books, movies and article after article, but they all paint a very 2-D picture of a very 3 or 4-D man. Michael is now a man. He is no longer a club kid. He is a man who has been incarcerated for 13 years in places we all have nightmares about. He has indeed endured and survived the horrors of the American penal system at it's worst. Yep, he got it up the butt lots and, yes, he has had human excrement thrown at him on a daily basis. You want it sugar coated, then go see that Gerard Butler/Jamie Foxx flick.

There’s this sign hanging above the southeast corner of Thompson and Bleecker street that goes mostly unnoticed. The sign belonged to the Village Gate and it still has the name of the last performer to play Art D’Lugoff’s pleasure palace. The sign is now landmarked and I’m sure creates confusion for tourists who want to see Penny Arcade perform. The Village Gate was a John Coltrane, Coleman Hawkins, Billie Holiday, Duke Ellington, Dizzy Gillespie, Bill Evans, Nina Simone, Herbie Mann , Aretha Franklin, Eddie Palmieri, Dexter Gordon, Dizzy Gillespie, Tito Puente, James Moody, Wynton Marsalis, Bobby Hutcherson kind of place. A benefit for Timothy Leary in 1970 featured performances from Jimi Hendrix, Jim Morrison, Allen Ginsberg. Comedians like John Belushi, Chevy Chase, Garry Goodrow and Christopher Guest did their thing at this legendary club. I, along with Leslie Bernard (Clementine, Tillman’s and now the Village Tart) had the honor of doing a club there with Mr D’Lugoff called Peace. I later was given the opportunity to do my club Life there. Today it flourishes as Le Poisson Rouge.