In Part 2 of OpenFile Halifax's history of drinking establishments, reporter Adrian Lee gets into the nuts and bolts of the bar and tavern regulation system that made make-or-break decisions about our favourite watering holes. (Yesterday, we presented Part 1.)
While drinking had returned to Halifax in 1946, not all was well.
Despite a 5000-vote margin of people in favour of taverns, pro-temperance groups pointed to the fact that fewer people had actually voted in favour than when the plebiscite first occurred in 1944. While on the surface, politicians boisterously greeted the province’s wet attitudes, the sentiment was far from unconditional and the province’s conservative temperance tradition was hard to shake.
“The language of moderation and gradualism was noticeable,” wrote historian Greg Marquis, with ministers telling the press that the decision to return taverns to the city was justified by the hopes that it would “decrease consumption." The politics of it were high-stakes: distinct from the Nova Scotia Liquor Commission, which was formed “to control the access to beverage alcohol” through the post-prohibition 1930 Liquor Control Act, local tavern committees were responsible for awarding liquor licenses and reported directly to provincial cabinet. Government and weakened temperance groups could agree at least on this: bar fights and salacious saloon behaviour were their true, mutual enemies.
So in a game of public faces where all could agree that public drunkenness was the problem, taverns and bars had an uphill battle for credibility in the public. And against an atmosphere where “most drinking continued to take place at home,” wrote Marquis, the stigma of bar life proved difficult to shake early on, evidenced by the industry taking criticism for factors that tangentially—if at all—contributed to those belligerent conditions. “In addition to gambling, cashing cheques, extending credit, admitting women and accepting loans from breweries, tavern operators were forbidden from staging live music and entertainment, or, in beverage rooms where women were permitted, allowing dancing,” wrote Marquis. Even the Sea Horse, which faced pressure as the first, precedent-setting bar in Halifax after prohibition, had its first fight at 5 o’clock on its first day.
So the 1946 plebiscite created what amounted to a “tavern lobby," a valuable resource against this “negative publicity despite rules against drunkenness or ‘notoriously bad characters.’” TVs were allowed in bars and later, women were, too, though only when taverns appealed to that common bond against public mischief—that women would be “a good influence with regard to conduct, habit of speech, dress.” Starting in 1961, the licensing process started incorporating public hearings into the decision to grant liquor licenses, celebrated in the Chronicle Herald as a sign of “greater procedural fairness.” In 1964, the province increased the maximum cost of a bottled beer by a penny, legislation intended to drive revenue up for tavern owners who were being forced to upkeep their businesses. “The Board is of the opinion that the public is entitled to bright and modern taverns and that it is in the interest of all concerned and of the public at large that the premises of taverns in Nova Scotia be improved,” wrote the anonymous Mail-Star reporter.
View Old watering holes and music venues in Halifax in a larger map
But perhaps the greatest victory allowed dining establishments to serve alcohol with meals that same year. The media had been increasingly calling for cabarets, dancing, and wine with meals to show Halifax had “urbanity;” the tourism industry had pressed this point during the 1946 plebiscite. The Associated Tavern Keepers of Nova Scotia, “conscious of the open, ‘barn like’ nature of their establishments,” hoped that this would help remove some of the stigma of alcohol-only taverns, and in the 1960s, eating establishment licenses became available.
Tavern committees evolved into the single-body Liquor License Commission, reflecting the diversity of licenses available, from cabaret, lounge, eating establishment, beverage room, and club.
One particularly notable decision by the commission followed a hearing in December of 1996. Birdland Cabaret, which sat in the Trade Mart Centre on Brunswick Street, had been seeking a place to move for about a year because of noise affecting the 24-hour call centre below them. The club had identified the empty spot at 1537 Barrington Street to replace the Studio nightclub, which had closed the year before, but had housed a bar for 15 years prior. Birdland was one of the lynchpins of an ascendant Halifax music scene in the mid-90s; backed by legendary bar owner and booker Greg Clark, Birdland was a birthing ground to the musical identity of the city that Melody Maker magazine anointed "the next Seattle.”
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| The Lobster Trap, at The Trade Mart (courtesy HalifaxHistory.ca |
But next to that bar was Barrington Gate, a new condominium housing development. According to Andy Pedersen of the Daily News, four letters were sent opposing the move due to noise concerns, and two Barrington Gate residents showed up at the hearing to complain. This compared to “30 letters supporting the bid from nearby merchants and people in the music industry,” wrote Tara Lee Wittchen.
But in part because Birdland sought to expand capacity by 300 and to acquire a cabaret license, it was denied its coop. “In view of the number of additional people who would be congregating late at night at this cabaret, the board finds that it is simply not reasonable to suggest there will be no interference or negative impact on objectors who reside in such close proximity to the cabaret,” wrote liquor board chair Margaret Shears in her decision.
It was an action eerily similar to the recent UARB decision to deny Reflections the right to move into the former Paragon space, and showed a board shifting towards the protection of resident rights. “The quiet enjoyment of nearby residents is one of the main principles of our regulations. It is of paramount importance,” continued Shears. “But we will consider each license application according to its own circumstances.” Birdland was forced to close soon after. “I was pretty shocked we didn’t get approved—that location was right in the middle of downtown,” said Clark from his Dartmouth home. “We had people saying they were trying to bring up their family here, and it was like, ‘come on, bars are a part of downtown.’” The space was eventually home to two bars that lasted only a year apiece between 1997 and 1999.
Those same Barrington Gate residents were also successful in lobbing enough noise complaints at Blues Corner that it closed down, too; in a 1998 letter to Halifax council, Paul Monahan argued that a bar had operated at the corner of Blowers and Sackville for almost 20 years, with entertainment allowed for the last 11.
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| Eric's Trip at Birdland, Oct. 14, 1995 |
“Furthermore, in Mr. Monahan’s opinion, the decision establishes standards that will have very serious implications for other entertainment venues in the Halifax Central Business District and, as such, will change the overall character of the downtown core,” the council minutes read. In The Coast, writer Lezlie Lowe suggested residents deserved some blame as they “chose housing smack-dab in the middle of the downtown bar scene.” Blues Corner eventually lost its license to host music performances and closed not long afterwards.
NOFX at Birdland, 1994
When Nova Scotia opened a casino in 1995, the adjudicative (dispute-settling and ruling-making), administrative, inspection, and license-granting functions of the Nova Scotia Liquor License Board were bundled up into the province’s Alcohol and Gaming Authority (AGA). The AGA, a board that also governed the NSLC, held the adjudicative functions until 2000, when the provincial government made the Nova Scotia Utility and Review Board in charge of making decisions, and transferred the enforcement duties to Service Nova Scotia. Because of a provincial provision that dissolves any board or organization whose duties are rolled into a utility and review board, the AGA was no more.
Exactly why that decision was made in the first place remains a mystery. Paul Allen, the current executive director of the Nova Scotia Utility and Review Board, only remembered it as “some sort of a problem…we simply got a phone call.” He did say, however, that splitting enforcement and adjudicating has become more common to make sure that all information is presented only within hearings. “If you have the cop and the court together, anybody coming before the court has a…real apprehension of bias,” he said. John MacDonald, the executive director of the Alcohol and Gaming Division of Service Nova Scotia, could not comment: “that was before my time,” he said.
Even Elwin MacNeil, the chair of the AGA at the time, has still never been given a reason for the decision. “You’d have to ask the premier of the day why,” he said. The reasons, however, seem serious enough that, when MacNeil sued the government in 2004 for wrongful termination (“or something along those lines,” MacNeil demurs), the province settled out of court. “Since Mr. MacNeil’s contract entitled him to the salary and pension benefits equivalent to a provincial court judge, a lengthy legal challenge could have cost the province more than $2.5 million,” said Justice Minister Michael Baker in a press release in 2004. When asked whether removing authority from the AGA was the right decision, MacNeil responded, “What do you think?”
On the ground, though, the impact was felt more palpably. “I feel like there was more open discourse (before 2001),” said Shelley MacPhail, the general manager of the Sea Horse Tavern. “I used to have one point of contact for all my answers, or things I was planning on doing, and now I feel like there is more red tape…I need somebody to talk to who can actually listen to the issues we’re facing. Who’s going to have that meeting with you? No one seems to be able to do anything for you. No one seems to be able to do anything to make the changes that need to happen.”
More recently, earlier this month, the UARB made a minor adjustment that would slash red tape around the large number of minor applications that consistently went unopposed and probably didn't need to come to the board. "In 2000, you actually had a board and an enforcement group that was working together in concert,” said Allen, “What’s happened now is that the pure adjudicative function remains with the board and the Alcohol and Gaming Division—the enforcement group—now has powers to make routine decisions.” The UARB will now act as more of an appeal board, though the AGD can still submit larger issues they judge to need public opinion to the review board, as well.
Allen hopes people see that the UARB's decisions are not arbitrary and can detect no bias towards quiet enjoyment versus businesses. “It’s actually about what the law says. Because we are a court-like entity, we are very much constrained by the law,” said Allen. “We don’t step outside the law, because when we do, we create an appeal-able situation, and that doesn’t do anyone any good.”
Stay tuned for part 3 tomorrow: with all these seemingly mutable regulations, how can a bar survive and prosper?
