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TIME: Almanac 1995
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TIME Almanac 1995.iso
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<text id=90TT0870>
<title>
Apr. 09, 1990: The Devil Made Him Do It
</title>
<history>
TIME--The Weekly Newsmagazine--1990
Apr. 09, 1990 America's Changing Colors
</history>
<article>
<source>Time Magazine</source>
<hdr>
NATION, Page 38
The Devil Made Him Do It
</hdr>
<body>
<p>In New York, illegal clubs become a way of life--and death
</p>
<p> In New York City, where they never roll up the sidewalks,
illegal social clubs are a long tradition. There are more than
1,000 such clubs strewn across the city's five boroughs,
dispensing cheap booze, loud music and a touch of the home
country to immigrants. Many of them have something in common:
the lack of a liquor license. All too many also offer their
patrons something besides the prospect of a hot time on the
town: the high risk of a fiery death.
</p>
<p> The city's law-enforcement bureaucracies have long been
aware of the risks posed by the absence of anti-fire
precautions at many social clubs. But the police, fire
department, health and building inspectors all seemed unwilling
to act or incapable of doing anything about the problem before
tragedy struck. Their inadequate performance resulted last week
in a needless disaster--the city's worst fire in 79 years.
</p>
<p> The Happy Land Social Club was a Hispanic, mostly Honduran,
gathering spot in a seedy commercial section of the Bronx. It
was ordered to close in November 1988 because it had no fire
exits, sprinkler system, fire alarm or emergency lighting. It
did shut down, but only briefly. Police knew it had reopened;
they arrested its bartender last July for selling liquor
without a license.
</p>
<p> Happy Land was living up to its name on Sunday last week.
Well after 3 a.m., strobe lights were pulsing through the
cigarette haze to bounce off young women twisting in slinky
miniskirts and high heels. Youthful men in leather pants and
bright shirts picked up the beat of salsa, reggae and Honduran
calypso.
</p>
<p> But then an angry man joined the revelers. Julio Gonzalez,
36, one of Fidel Castro's cast-off gifts to the U.S. in the
1980 Mariel boatlift, came to plead with his estranged
girlfriend, Lydia Feliciano, 45. She earned $150 a night
checking coats and taking tickets ($5 each) at the club.
Gonzalez had lived with Feliciano for eight apparently calm
years. But in February he lost his job as a warehouseman. Then
the two quarreled bitterly, reportedly over his fondness for
her niece, and she ordered him to leave her apartment. Now
living in a tiny room and hustling for handouts on the street,
he wanted her to take him back. She refused. When he swore at
her, a bouncer ordered him to leave. He did, but with a parting
threat: "I will be back. I will shut this place down."
</p>
<p> Police say Gonzalez has confessed to filling a plastic
container with $1 worth of gasoline at a nearby station, then
splashing it through the club's front door. He threw a lighted
match into the gasoline and watched the flames rise.
</p>
<p> The acrid black smoke billowed so swiftly through the
two-level, 22-ft. by 58-ft. brick building that the few shouts
of "Fuego! Fuego!" were too late. Most of the partygoers, who
were on the low-ceilinged second level, where there were no
windows or exits, stampeded toward two narrow stairways. The
main door on the ground floor was blocked by flames. The only
window was barred. Feliciano, the target of Gonzalez's rage,
and four others ran to a seldom-used second door, where they
forced open a gate to become the only known survivors.
</p>
<p> In a matter of minutes, 87 people died from the toxic smoke.
Firemen arrived within three minutes of being called, but found
a deathly silence. They soon discovered only corpses jumbled
on the stairs, stretched out on the dance floors or still
astride barstools and clutching glasses.
</p>
<p> Gonzalez, meanwhile, had calmly returned to his room. He was
arrested there, still in bed twelve hours later. His only
explanation: "I got angry. The devil got into me." Gonzalez was
indicted by a grand jury on 87 counts of felony murder, the
most lodged against anyone in U.S. history.
</p>
<p> The fire could have been prevented. After a 1988 social-club
fire killed six people, Mayor Edward Koch created ten
inspection teams to shut down offending clubs. But budgetary
pressure and complacency quickly took their toll, as they seem
to with most public services in the city. By the time Happy
Land burned, only two inspection teams were left.
</p>
<p> Mayor David Dinkins dispatched 20 fresh teams last week to
check on the 179 clubs that had been ordered closed.
Incredibly, city law does not let inspectors immediately lock
up all such places. Dinkins asked for legislation to promptly
padlock any hazardous club.
</p>
<p> One club operator, however, was beyond any further
penalties: Elias Colon, the manager of Happy Land. He died with
his partying customers.
</p>
<p>By Ed Magnuson. Reported by Naushad S. Mehta/New York.
</p>
</body>
</article>
</text>