The police raid early Sunday morning at the Comfort Zone at Spadina and College, resulting in approximately 150 people being investigated and released and 33 arrested and charged, came as little surprise to anyone who encountered tweaking patrons squinting into the street on weekend afternoons. The club’s location, in the basement of the Silver Dollar Room of the Waverly Hotel, is next door to the Scott Mission shelter and soup kitchen — an intersection where decorum is limited and the finest dining option remains Burger King.
But the mother of Andrew Fazio, the 26-year-old from Hamilton who died of an accidental overdose in January after visiting the club, took no solace in this matter-of-fact when it was raised at a police media conference this afternoon.
“I’m surprised that people on the news said they didn’t want to talk about it,” said Karen Fazio. “Why not? You live in the neighbourhood, why don’t you want to talk about it? Why do you want this in your neighbourhood?”
Project White Rabbit was set into motion over the past six weeks, resulting in 13 drug-related arrests, leading up to the acquisition of a search warrant involving nearly 100 officers. Drugs including heroin, cocaine, ecstasy, Ketamine and GHB with an estimated street value of $30,000 were seized along with $35,000 cash.
The club itself, however, won’t necessarily be closed as a result.
The Comfort Zone was cited in a puff piece in the Town Crier today as “an after-hours dance and rave club” that has “also helped the Silver Dollar survive.” The live music venue — most recently featured as a strip club in the straight-to-DVD movie American Pie: Beta House — currently offers garage rock on weekends under the guidance of rock raconteur Dan Burke, and blues and bluegrass on weeknights. The spaces are connected in back through the kitchen.
Currently owned by David and Elsa Yarmus, along with several silent partners, the Comfort Zone was part of their overhaul of the space when it was purchased a dozen years ago. The basement was originally devised as a space for jam bands, booked by David’s brother “Cosmic” Steve Yarmus, and later moved into live and DJ’d hip-hop events. But the financial backbone became the Sunday after-rave party. The space has operated without a liquor license for the past five years — it was lost after it was busted for narcotic sales in 2002 — and therefore continued as a primarily after-hours club, open from late-nights through midday on weekends.
Detective Sergeant Ed Rosetto explained that it wasn’t difficult to find online descriptions of the recent Comfort Zone experience: “This guy who went in there on a Friday night didn’t come out until 3 o’clock on a Monday morning and consumed every drug possible,” he said. “And when he feels bad he’ll go back there — but he’s too afraid to go back on a regular basis.”
After the room was cleared, police reported how vials and pills were found throughout the place. “Drugs were used openly and sold openly,” said Rosetto. “Tables were basically being set up like flea markets where you could look at what you wanted to buy, and pick it.”
Some of those charged with conspiracy or trafficking worked at the club, giving directions on where to get the drugs. Police claim they will work with the fire department and the licensing commission to figure out if there is, in fact, another angle to close it down.
Turning to the inert journalist’s new best friend, the Facebook group, reveals a loyal clientele who are determined to keep their Comfort Zone intact. Police pointed out that, later into Sunday evening following the raid, a 19-year-old woman overdosed at the club, where she had purchased ecstasy and GHB. Yet, other patrons credit the club with saving their lives by providing a space to chill out and connect with like-minded types.
And, you know, there's chatter about police brutality and why was the Comfort Zone of all clubs targeted, and maybe all this was just the start of a scheme to turn the unsightly corner into the site of a new condo.
Prose, too: “The grey-haired-has-beens tearing up our world offer no promise for a better tomorrow — they sow only fear. Is it any wonder we come here?
“Those fuckers, they’ve not only destroyed countries, they’ve bombed hope so completely, we lost children of the new millennium, have gone underground, to escape the horrors they’ve unleashed.
“But hope can’t grow down here in the dark. Rise up we must. To dream is to see tomorrow as it could be. To live is to make it so.”
Speculation swirled over involvement from the Chinese mafia or biker gangs, which police admit prompted them to take extra caution in the raid, although any such organized crime link was unsubstantiated.
Well, the place must’ve had enough appeal to earn its notoriety over the last few years. Andrew Fazio wasn’t there to explain, so his tearful mother had to struggle to make sense of it instead, perching a framed photo of him above the table splayed with materials seized by police on Sunday morning."
“It’s one thing to listen to the music — that’s fine,” said Karen Fazio. “But why do you need to do that drug? Is life so bad that you need to take these drugs to disappear for a while? Can you not enjoy the music without this extra help? I mean — this cost me my son.”
Does it surprise her that the club might open for business as usual this weekend?
“Nothing shocks me anymore. Nothing. Since my son passed, nothing shocks me.”
Send news, tips, links about arts, culture, media to scroll@eyeweekly.com.