From left, Cargill and Chung
Mel Cooke, Freelance Writer
WESTERN BUREAU:
AT ALL of a week young The Quad rises an imposing four stories, but its foundation is three decades deep and the start is nowhere as glamorous as the glitzy ambience of Jamaica's newest nightclub.
Neither is it rooted in the most times swanky, sometimes slightly seedy New Kingston, where its doors are a portal to a world of subtle lighting, thumping bass, crystal clear top end and people who seem to take sheer pleasure in ensuring the pleasure of all who come in. Instead, The Quad's quality product and service beginnings were in the 'liberation' of a Lafayette turntable from a father, the shrill of Pizo tweeters, the hustle of downtown Kingston, the sale of ice cream and Ringo cheese trix to no-nonsense vendors, down-to-earth Jamaicans and the crunch of fried saltfish in Riverton.
Not that the ownership duo of Chris Cargill and Brian Chung knew how far their lofty ambitions of just having fun would take them when they started out with Michael Manley just into his second term as Prime Minister and Prince Buster's on Orange Street the place to buy hot 45 rpms.
But the principles, connections - and equipment they acquired along the way hold firm even to this day.
"I started collecting records in high school," Brian 'Ribbie' Chung said, naming Aquarius, Randy's and Record Plaza among the places where he went for the hot songs from the like of Jacob Miller and Dennis Brown. He then went into a mobile disco, which he named 'Spinners'.
"I just loved music from I was a youngster," Chris 'Gypsy' Cargill said, saying that he too collected records and started a mobile disco.
"It definitely was not a profit-making thing, because you were always upgrading equipment. Back in those days JBL was like Rolls Royce," Cargill laughed, remembering his experiences with equipment brands like Sansui.
The two merged their equipment and, with Chung at the turntables ("him used to lift box" Chung says, tossing a thumb at Cargill), hit the party scene with a vengeance. Not that the lodgements were flowing into the bank accounts, though. "As you think you have some money, a speaker or an amplifier blow or something," Chung said.
"Sound thing was always a money-spending venture," he said.
AFFLICTED
Not that that affected the fun, but they were being afflicted by a very common malady growing up. "You mature, you have to start making money, you get responsibilities," Cargill said. They passed down Spinners to another generation of youngsters and went into the world of work, Cargill hitting the nuts and bolts with a garage and Chung rubbing elbows with the salt of the earth in the cheese trix business.
The love for music did not fade, however, and as Cargill put it, "once you have a mobile disco you want to own a nightclub."
"I got to know a lot of what you would call the masses," Chung said. "People from downtown would come and buy and you had to deal with them straight up."
Even before going into the auto repairs business, Cargill was living, walking and working with Jamaicans from the poorer side of the economy. "My grandparents used to live at Lincoln Road. I used to walk to Wolmer's every day, up Slipe Road and across Torrington Bridge, and walk back," he said.
Even before that, though, Cargill literally grew up at the Cremo depot downtown. "I used to ride in the basket of the delivery bicycles," he said. "When I left downtown, I used to ride the same bicycle."
His eyes glowed behind his glasses, the silver frames glinting in the subdued lighting of Christopher Jazz Café, on the entry level of The Quad, as the childhood memories of a different downtown came back. "They used to have the nicest corn bread on Matches Lane, the real corn bread flat, and you could taste the corn. If yu neva get there by 8 o'clock it finish!" he said.
"Bway, if I could get one now I would go for it," he said.
When the Cremo depot was relocated to Spanish Town Road, Cargill found a breakfast spot in Riverton, now known for garbage rather than dumplings. "They used to have this breakfast place. I used to walk down there and get real breakfast, cook on coal stove. Liver, johnny cake, fry saltfish real Jamaican breakfast," Cargill said.
"I was exposed to you could call it ghetto living from an early age."
By the time the opportunity to buy the Cactus nightclub in Portmore came up in 1993, the two were seasoned businessmen, with the same lofty ambitions they had as youngsters to have fun. There was 'nuff sacrifice', including Cargill's sale of his pick-up. Was it worth it? Definitely yes.
The 'foundation' came into play, as some of the equipment from Spinners Disco was used in the club. "We laughed and said it was a good thing we did not sell it," Chung said. Just as they had turned over the equipment to the younger generation, so that generation, which had by now caught that maturity malady, handed it back to them.
"We laughed and said it was a good thing we did not sell it," Chung said.
It was not only the equipment which was kept in the family, but the people. Peter Angus, who now manages the Asylum, and Colin Hawthorne, who takes care of the sound equipment and the record library, were part of the younger generation of 'Spinners'.
The circle was beginning to close.
At Cactus, which they bought in 1993, Chung and Cargill were responsible for bringing dancehall into the club environment. "On Wednesday nights, we brought in the best of the dancehall. Back then, we were lucky to get Stone Love four times for the year," Cargill said.
Forces outside their control played into their hands, though, and not only were dances getting 'locked down' all over the city, but Stone Love's weekly Thursday spot, House of Leo on Cargill Avenue became infected by lead poisoning gunshots, to be precise. By the time they opened the Asylum in New Kingston in 1997, Stone Love had become a fixture, an association which continues to this day.
Safety was key and metal detector scanning was introduced for everybody. "People wanted to feel safe. The don don't mind getting check, as long as everybody get check," Chung said.
And now they have opened The Quad, four levels of nightclub experience, but where everybody who steps through the door is treated on the same basis. It is a legacy from their early days which they pass on to the staff.
COLOUR AND CLASS
"The way we were brought up, we were not brought up to look at colour and class. Everybody is equal. The only difference is opportunity. We do not believe in discrimination of any form. Anybody who comes in here and spends money get the same treatment," Chris Cargill said.
"The man spending him $100 might work harder for it too," Cargill said.
"I guess it was because we were brought up in the working class. We definitely never born with gold spoon. Everything we get is sweat," Chung said.
"Because we work hard and expect value for our money, we expect that the other man want the same thing... It is something that we teach to the staff. The staff are ambassadors for us. If a staff do a ting, they are dissing the customer, they diss us."
The relaxed mood that had been maintained so far goes for a moment, but returns as The Sunday Gleaner asks if, as people of obvious Chinese descent, they had ever faced any racial slurs or discrimination.
"Jamaica not really racial," Cargill said.
"I don't look at it as race. Sometimes a man will seh 'Missa Chin' and I just say Mr. Chin sell rice and sugar and flour. I don't sell that. They laugh and right away we start a conversation. I am not the aggressor," Chung said.
This non-aggressive stance is also passed on to the staff. "We teach by example," Cargill said. "Even with the security, we don't fight fire with fire. Not because if you come in loud you are going to beat up a man."
"I would say 99 per cent of people, you can talk to in any situation," Chung said.
And, as always, they set the tone. Not only for their businesses, but also for their country.
"We say it to our staff, customers, everybody. If we do not live loving among ourselves, who will?" Chung asked rhetorically.
It is not only in the tone of the clubs that Cargill and Chung set the example; it is also in the music. Chung pulls back on his selector's experience, from the days when he used one turntable and the records played out sometimes until that 'ch-ch-ch' sound.
"I can know when music is playing good and when it is playing bad. I train the selectors, how I want the music, how I want the jingles. I know when a man is playing garbage. I know how music should be mixed and how it should be played," Cargill said.
"I want the music to be vibesy."
It is a vibes from the Cactus days, where Chung recalls the feeling in the selector's booth, watching the people singing their hearts out as the music hit them.
It is this 'vibes' that keeps them going, that has them sleeping 'when necessary'.
"Since we have been together since 1992, it has never been money-driven. I work it out and make sure it won't cost us," Cargill said.
"If we see a need we fill it. When we were doing The Quad, people were saying you have Asylum, what you need another club for? There was a need, so we filled it," Chung said.
And they now see the need for the Asylum experience overseas. "We have patrons who ask why we don't open one abroad," Cargill said. That 'abroad' would be "wherever Jamaican or Caribbean people living overseas are. All Caribbean nationals gravitate towards Jamaican music."
"There has been demand for the (Asylum) deejays to come up and play," Chung added.
When this does happen, it will be a continuation of sorts of when Cargill and Junior Martin, who along with Chung, Bobby Smith and Donovan Smith, were the original Spinners quintet and took the Spinners experience to Miami. This was when Cargill was going to school there, up to 1982.
The circle inches closer to completion.
Throughout the interview, Cargill is the more restrained, his hands still, while Cargill flicks through a newspaper intermittently. When they get simultaneous phone calls, they sit back in almost identical positions to take care of business. They are not some sort of twins, though, just a team.
"Chris is the one with the vision," Chung says, laughing. "Brian have vision too," Cargill says. "Brian is the people person. Brian is a true magnet for people. I don't know why people love you so much, but they love you," Cargill says to Chung.
"I go the extra mile for my customer," Chung says, smiling.
'Ribbie' has a final word for young people. "You must identify what you enjoy doing and do it to the best of your ability," he said. "Do it to your best and it must pay off," Cargill affirmed.
And they have been taking their own sound literally and figuratively advice.
"The last 10 years have been fun. I can't say I feel like I have been working," Chris Cargill said. "When you are energised to do something it does not feel like work," Brian Chung said.
"Working here is fun. We really enjoy coming to the club."
After close to three decades, that lofty ambition of having fun holds firm.
