When D.O.A. was the centre of an aborted concert in 1997 in Prince George, ending in a disco of red and blue police lights and a rabble of discontent from the frustrated audience - many of whom got arrested - it gave the legendary hardcore band a perfect punk memory of P.G.
It also gave Amanda Brewster a perfectly punk 19th birthday.
D.O.A. was on the stage at The Urban Coffeehouse, a now defunct, all-ages, bare-bones performance space downtown. It was operated by the Northern Society of Musicians & Artists (NSMA). Brewster was one of the ongoing volunteers and so was her boyfriend Barry Keibel. Keibel wanted to give Brewster a great gift for her special birthday, so D.O.A. got booked for the event. It must have worked because today, the two are long married.
"The RCMP had actually been watching the venue all day while we sold tickets. We figured we were in for a bit of a time with them that night," said Keibel.
"I was selling tickets at The Urban the day leading up to the show, and I think we actually sold out or came pretty close to selling out before the doors opened," Brewster said. "People just keep coming and we had to turn them away, so there were a couple hundred people hanging around outside and wandering all over downtown. I don't really remember there being a whole lot of trouble, for the most part everyone was pretty well behaved.
"Once the show started, I was checking people for hand stamps and watching the show from the door," Brewster continued. "I remember Sheldon Clare playing the bagpipes as we took tickets, and then the local bands playing. We were really excited about seeing Clockwork Medusa (also on the stage that night were local bands Ludicrous and Blatant Decay) because they hadn't played at The Urban for a long time. During their set, I took a break from the door and went up front to watch them, and they were wicked.
"After that, things are a bit of a blur," she said. "D.O.A. started playing, the cops came in and started kicking people out, and then started telling everyone outside that anyone on the street would be arrested, so more than 200 people came flooding inside the Urban, ticket or not. Us volunteers couldn't do anything, just try to stay out of the way and help to keep things as calm as we could. At some point, the fire marshal showed up and declared us over capacity, and that was that. I think D.O.A. played one song and totally calmed the crowd down, but a few people got taken away by the cops. One of the guys from D.O.A. found out that it was my birthday, so I got a hug, which was pretty cool."
"The part about the non-paying people being forced into The Urban is true," Keibel agreed. "We were very careful about capacity that evening, tickets, etc. But, we attracted a big crowd outside that wouldn't disperse."
Another of the NSMA organizers there that night was Neil Sideen. He wrote a review of the whole affair within hours of it happening. In it he blamed unruly people in the crowd but also pointed a finger of responsibility at police for inflaming the situation by pouring authoritarian gas on an antiestablishment group of people.
"During the DOA changeover the police situation reached a peak," Sideen said. "I walked outside to find them hollering promises of throwing into jail anyone remaining in the parking lot after five minutes. Anyone? It was illogical and surreal."
"I was the poor devil that had to go out onto the stage and say it was shut down," said Keibel, laughing. "I had to dodge many a thrown item."
Sideen applauded the RCMP for eventually striking a tone of professional composure leading to the breakup of the crowd without further incident. He also thanked the band for their efforts to restore peace and order by giving the audience at least a song or two to quell the anger, and openly encouraging a safe, sensible exit by the patrons.
"The band's chanted name became the marching song of the evicted concert-goers," Sideen wrote.
The incident made national news.
The Urban's location was, not long after the D.O.A. concert, compromised by disrepair. Rather than invest in an expensive new roof, the owner, the Multicultural Heritage Society, sold it. It is now the home of Bridget Moran Place, the social housing and shelter complex operated by Active Support Against Poverty.
The NSMA carried on in other locations until about 1999 when the organization ran out of gas.
"Like anything truly great, The Urban could never last; its purity ever subject to political entropy and the economics of innocence," said Sideen. "The D.O.A. gig was the most ambitious and memorable event we held within those walls; proved, if proof was needed, that this type of show was out of our league; and foreshadowed things to come."
