betsey trotwood
London
July 2012
A nigh-on compulsory cliché about any important
event is “everybody can remember where they were and what they were doing when
it happened”. Unfortunately, this isn’t
always so. All too often, tragedies get
awarded back-seat status, despite their direct impacts on all of our lives and
everything else.
The following has to be or definitely is the
greatest such example.
One fine day (Around 4.30 pm, on February 26th
1994 to be exact) seemed like just another day and business as usual for the
New City Cinema of Saint John Street in London.
O.k, so this was no ordinary cinema, but an adult, sex or porn flea-pit;
as we all know and can’t deny (but frequently take for granted) such
establishments are the life-force and blood of society and humanity, the new
rock n roll and the umpteenth emergency service. However, any norm is bound to have exceptions
and not always run according to plan or need as expected.
Everything changed forever never to be the same
again with the advent of a certain David Lauwers (34 at the time, at least
partly of Dutch descent and nationality, a tailor’s pattern-cutter by trade and
occupation, of no fixed abode and with severe hearing-impediments — which
might’ve been at least partly behind him being known as “deaf Dave” — unless
that was a coincidence and there were other reasons). As may be not uncommon, this already “boozed
up” (as the prosecution later said), David Lauwers disagreed over the
entrance-cost or the fact payment was required (a £7 tariff in 1994 money),
claimed he’d already paid earlier, argued with those on the door, as was later
admitted, got headbutted by doorman, Alfred Parsons and somewhat got slightly
refused admission a bit. Sadly, this
wasn’t the end of it. David Lauwers
didn’t give up that easily, being made of sterner stuff.
Evidently, David Lauwers resented the price or
even the sheer fact cash had to handed over and also fact he was turned
away. What little is known about this
David Lauwers and what went through his mind that fateful day, 1 thing is for
certain: he didn’t take to or shrug off rejection lightly and could well have
been the sort to bear a grudge.
Alongside what turned out to be sheer folly on the part of the New City
Cinema — a deadly combination and a marriage made in hell, just waiting to
happen.
Its highly likely that David Lauwers could well
have been what experts would diagnose as sub-clinically or even terminally
fed-up, possibly in a tertiary or terminal phases of a bad mood. Possibly even then, plots were hatching
themselves. He can’t have got too far
before coming across a convenient petrol station. Once there, he bought a tin of fuel (unless
he stole it — because he didn’t seem prepared or able to pay for the
entrance-cost at the New City Cinema).
Its unrecorded whether anything seemed memorable or amiss to the staff
wherever that was.
Once fully equipped, David Lauwers returned to
the New City Cinema. Perhaps after some
disturbance or even confrontation, unless he chose his riposte to be an
unexpected sweet surprise sprung onto the unsuspecting unawares — he well and
truly fired, took aim and retired — or rather scarpered — unless he
stayed around to gloat and cheer and remind his targets of their plight.
Many hands on deck went down. Still more came to grief. A few escaped — mostly scoring
injuries. Apparently, 1 sucked clean air
through a cracked wall (not a gloryhole).
The Fire Brigade (unless it was the Royal National Lifeboat Association
or Meals-On-Wheels or something) must’ve taken the job on for a laugh, found it
difficult or even impossible to keep straight faces and not fall around and
piss themselves. They later got medals
for bravery though, so it wasn’t all in vain or only for fun. The names of those who fell for us on black
whateversday appeared on teletext.
Despite that being tailormade for the cast or credits on a war memorial
monument, theres still no permanent reminder in their memory and honour. An obelisk with balls at the base would be
ideal. Epitaphs like: “Lest We
Forget”, “What A Way To Go” and “Better Luck Next Time” seem in order.
Not long after his faux-pas, David Lauwers
visited an unnamed friend, where upon seeing newsfootage about his handiwork,
remarked: “Christ, I never knew it was as bad as that. I could be in for a murder charge here”. Realising he’d hit the jackpot and struck
lucky and wanted to claim his prise, David Lauwers reported to some police
station. When charged and sentenced
right up the Old Bailey, for reasons of “understanding” (whatever that means in
legal terms), David Lauwers got some discount-tariff of only 3 deaths, not the
full 11. The prosecutor was a certain,
John Nutting. Sign-lingo infested what
were otherwise “hearings”. Another odd
thing was the court-case trial happened over a year after black
whateversday. David
Lauwers went down for life and doesn’t seem to have been heard of since
— unless I've lost the bet there on that one.
Even at the time the event went dismissed, apart
from exchanges like: “so you / I / we got out o.k”, “that’s the last time
anybody dares turn you / me / us away”, “serves them right” and “that should
teach them” etc. For all I know, there
were no services, questions in parliament, speeches, 1 minute’s silence or
anything like that.
Apparently, the New City Cinema reopened at the
same place or nearby, under the same or another name. No other known episodes seem associated with
it.
None of those customary headlines that get
regurgitated and dusted-off for such occasions neither. “How Did It Happen?”, “A Community Scarred
And Torn Apart”, “Could This Spell The End Of Our Love-Affair With The
Sex-Cinema?”, then later “1 Year On: Could It Happen Again? / Lessons That Just
Haven’t Been Learned?”.
Bit too late for any of that now though. As well as that war memorial monument idea,
what would be nice are things like a star-studded action-packed feature flick
(a la the ‘Towering Inferno’, ‘The Poisidon Adventure’, ‘The Titanic’ etc) and
a hit-musical set to run and run.
However, we should never rule out the possibility
of conspiracies, cover-ups and media-blackouts.
Was David Lauwers set up and framed and knowing more than he let
on? Notice how little there is online
and in print about it. Coincidence? Whatever, as far as I’m concerned this ere
file should never be closed — and I promise never to rest or give up until
the many can finally say: “justice at last!”
©, Copyright, Douglas Park
Premiered as a recital at An Afternoon of Porn, Decima Gallery, London, 2009.
Online http://www.kimkimgallery.com gallery website, Seoul, 2009
Online http://www.kimkimgallery.com gallery website, Seoul, 2009
No comments:
Post a Comment