THEME

Enterprise stories about underreported aspects of everyday life in greater Seattle

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

“I love being able to put myself into my writing,” says Monique Ohanessian, a UW journalism major in her senior year. “I can’t do that in (most) journalism classes.” More...

mohaness {at} u.washington.edu

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Corralling the party animals

By Monique Ohanessian

“Ooh, the Showbox is doing another mansion party?”

“I heard the first one was so packed and this time everyone will be home for Thanksgiving! We should totally have everyone go, like a reunion.”

“Definitely. Oh God, what are you gonna wear?”

A smirk appears on the face of 32-year-old Dennis Johnson as he overhears these young shoppers talking. It’s the sign of a job well done. As he leaves the Pitaya Boutique on University Avenue in Seattle, dressed impeccably in a crisp black suit and perfectly pressed white button-up, he is obviously pleased with himself.

“Well, now we know at least two people are coming!” Johnson laughs, knowing full well that come November 25, the Showbox will be packed with partygoers. He will have another successful party under his Armani belt.

Johnson’s parties are on the cutting-edge of Seattle nightlife; consistently packed with party-goers who braved the lines that often last well over an hour in the cold Seattle night. He promotes events for the hot spots in the city, a profession that has come under increased demand by both nightclub managers and young workers, seeking a fast-paced, yet lucrative, lifestyle.

Club promotions have become a large part of public relations nationally over the past couple of years, with institutions acknowledging this sector of the field in a more serious manner. Organizations, such as “The Advertising Club in New York, have been formed for aspiring and professional promoters to work together, and awards, such as the competitive Reggie Awards, are distributed for the best promotions of the year.

As nightclubs multiply in metropolitan cities like Seattle, the clubs fiercely compete for patrons by staging special events, which are organized, advertised, and hosted by promotional agencies.

Party promoters must network around cities making contacts with people who will bring in the young professionals that they seek to fill their parties. Promotional agencies will try to maintain relationships with up and coming local celebrities, like such as DJs, local athletes, or young entrepreneurs who have made a name for themselves around the city. They make phone calls, set up impressive lunch or sporting event arrangements, and treat their contacts like royalty at parties. The people they make contact with end up on their coveted VIP lists, as does their entourage. They must also manage business aspects of their jobs, dealing with advertisers and club management.

This relatively new profession has been featured in reality television series, such as MTV’s “PoweR Girls,” and in magazines like GQ and Cosmopolitan. The press coverage tends to highlight the glamorous side of event promotions, focusing on the VIP access and the opportunity to work with people. Citing a rise competition for these types of jobs through 2012 due to an interest in entertainment and recreation, certain job-finder Web sites, such as Business Reference, put promoters’ yearly salaries at anywhere from $30,000 to $1 million. The more high-profile the club being promoted, the higher the salary, especially in cities like Miami, Las Vegas and New York City.

To beat the competition and draw in more crowds, these clubs hire the promotional agencies to plan theme nights and parties for their clubs, which usually take place on Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday nights. It’s a lucrative business, with the average 1,000-person-capacity nightclub shelling out over $3,000 for the marketing of a one-night event. Special events usually occur at least once a month, and the largest ones are usually on the most competitive club nights, like New Years Eve and Halloween. These agencies are responsible for drawing in crowds to their weekly theme parties or special one night events, which usually feature guest celebrities or DJs. And they use whatever means possible.

Everyone has seen them. They’re a little smaller than normal ads. They’re a little glossier than paper. They’ve been handed to you or you’ve seen them at stores around town. They’re party flyers, advertising what is going on in Seattle, letting ordinary folk know which nightclubs the VIP’s will be heading out to this week. They’re an important part of Johnson’s job.

“If we don’t get these out, we can have the most raging, perfect party planned, but who’s gonna show up? You gotta get the word out.” Johnson explained.

“Plus, this is where a lot of the advertising money comes from.” Johnson adds, referring to the companies that pay to advertise on the flyers.

As Johnson will quickly tell you, however, getting the word out takes much more than distributing flyers. As a party promoter, Johnson’s job is to draw in large crowds to the nightclubs that hire his Edmonds-based company, Eighty One Productions. Planning parties featuring celebrities, up-and-coming DJs, theme nights, and club specials, Johnson strives to make sure that each event meets his standards of perfection. His parties have earned Johnson quite a reputation amid the Seattle club scene.

With eight years’ experience in marketing and promotions, Johnson, called the “chief negotiator” by his partners, has a full resume. In 1996, Johnson co-founded Seattle’s Habit Productions, putting on all-ages events with famed DJs from all over the world in the Northwest’s historic NAFT Studios. Johnson was a part of the Pioneer Square district’s boom. He opened Vinylized, an underage Seattle club, and managed AROSPACE, a bar located on Capitol Hill. In 2001, he began promoting parties for Tia Lou’s Cantina in Belltown.

In 2004, Johnson teamed up with fellow promoter Ken Adee to create Eighty One Productions. Through associations with the trendiest nightclubs, such as Seattle’s newest lounge, Element, Eighty One Productions has become a success. But that doesn’t lessen the load on Johnson or any of the four men that work with him.

Aside from coming up with ideas that will draw in partygoers, Johnson must work to attract celebrities or famed DJs to make special appearances at the clubs, and hire talent to dance or hand out specialty drinks.

Once the party is planned, the word must get out. Aside from the flyers, Johnson and his business partners use all sorts of media, from Internet to radio spots, to draw people in. Obviously, word of mouth is a very useful tool and Johnson’s charms and good looks make his parties constant topics of conversations. His ability to network by chatting up the young female clientele helps to fill his parties with the most desirable Seattleites.

The digital age has aided promoters, and Eighty One Productions often uses the social network site Myspace.com to post online flyers and generate enthusiasm about upcoming events.

Eighty One Productions forms partnerships with advertisers, such as food or clothing companies, who are attempting to reach the club-scene demographic of 21-35 year olds. Advertisers pay Eighty One Productions to put their name on the party flyers and have their product or logo featured at the events. Photographers are often on scene to capture the craziness that ensues. People can go online and look at the pictures and even purchase copies, further advertising the nightclubs and the photographers.

“Yeah, we’re getting our name out there a lot, but we just have to make sure that we keep getting our contacts in. Gotta keep it up. No slacking!” Johnson says as we get out of his shiny Mercedes on a typical work day.

A cold day on Alaskan Way in Seattle, Johnson asked me to come with him as he makes a quick stop at a storage facility to pick up a pack of Zip Fizz.

“It’s like an energy powder. It’s sweet stuff. You get these little packs of it, toss it in water – or liquor, ya know – and it’s an energy drink. We get a lot of energy drinks as advertisers,” Johnson says, showing off the packets before tossing them in the car.

“Now I throw up a few banners, make some special drinks that have (Zip Fizz) in it and we’re good!”

Advertisers such as Zip Fizz will pay a base fee to be featured at several of Johnson’s parties. For each party, Johnson will have to visually advertise the product, as well as incorporate it into the night’s featured drinks. Johnson will feature Zip Fizz at the upcoming Mansion Party, most likely with a Vodka mix.

“It’s like Vodka-Red Bull, but Zip Fizz kind of gives it a tangy kick.”

Throwing the car into drive, Johnson speeds over to the Eighty One Productions office in Edmonds. Scanning his iPod for Kenny Chesney’s “Keg in the Closet,” he pushes the buttons rhythmically. He waits almost exactly the same amount of time on each song before going to the next. His mechanized movements come from a job that requires extreme attention to detail.

Walking into the office, two very distinct desks stand out. One is extremely organized with its all black Bic pens pointing the same direction. The other is a mess of Taco Bell wrappers and Zip Fizz packets, as well as a few empty file folders.

“Moni!” Jeff Gordon, one of Johnson’s employees greets me from the messy desk. “Check out my pictures!”

“This kid will not get off MySpace,” Johnson says of Gordon, scolding in a playful manner. “He’s probably not even sending out the bulletins.”

“They’ve been sent,” Gordon dismisses him, turning to more important matters. “Look at me and Carmen Electra! Navarro, betta watch out.”

Johnson rolls his eyes and settles down, as he says, to “get it on.” Having been on “flyer duty” earlier, he looks tired already, but his day is only partly done.

Later in the day, as Johnson gets in his car to drive home, he appears bothered.

“This business is booming. Everyone wants in. They all think it’s gonna be like all Diddys’ white parties or something.” He is referring to the MTV special on rapper P. Diddy’s Hamptons blow out, the “White Party”, which showcased the promoters who got the word out for that party.

“We just want people in Seattle to come to the clubs we promote and have a good time. It’s a lot of work, but it can be real fun.”

Johnson’s house shows a different side to the man with all the cache. His flashiness seems to dissolve at the door. His house is meticulously neat. His plasma screen flat TV hints at the size of his paycheck. A stray child-size basketball lies neglected in the corner.

“That’s my son,” Johnson says, indicating a picture of a six year old boy, beaming into the camera while holding a carved pumpkin.

Although his son lives with his mother, Johnson says the two of them are very close.

“He loves basketball,” Johnson continues. “My friend Doug, he played for UW, is teaching him tricks all the time. He’ll be able to beat me soon.”

A chubby dog dressed up like a reindeer is the focus of one framed photo. Upon prodding, Johnson reveals that this is his dog, Rolly, who was dressed up as “Rolly the red-nosed reindeer” for Halloween.

“I love my dog!” Johnson feigns indignation.

As he goes off to get ready for the night, there is a lag in his step: “Here we go again.”

One o’clock Saturday morning at Medusa, a Belltown nightclub. Johnson’s company stages the themed, blue-and-silver “Ice” event here every Friday night. Johnson and Gordon, drinks in hand, have entered the VIP lounge with their friends. Laughter fills the air as camera flashes go off. The VIP men are in button-ups, the women, in impossibly high heels.

Johnson works the crowd, his drink never leaving his hand. Ever the promoter, he spreads the word about the upcoming Mansion Party and his own New Year’s Eve bash.

“Nicola!” He yells, spotting a friend who just walked in. “I know you’re coming next Friday!”

“DJ! Do I ever miss your parties?” Nicola responds, laughing and taking a seat in the lounge.

“Were you at Element when all the kids from Laguna were there?” Nicola asks, turning her attention towards me. “It was so crazy.”

Gordon joins in: “Ya, we stole ‘em away from the Showbox party.”

When the cast of MTV’s popular reality show “Laguna Beach” came to Seattle for an 18- and-over party at the Showbox, Johnson and Gordon made sure the teens made a stop at the VIP lounge at Element. Pictures were all over the Web the next morning.

“The publicity was amazing,” Johnson says. He snaps back to work mode: “Hey, Jeff, go make sure they put up the banners. We need the Zebraclub and Wired signs.”

“Go ask Ken, I’m trying to get a hold of the girls.” Gordon says, indicating the cell phone that is never out of his hand.

“Do I have to do everything?” Johnson says as he gets up to find out about the banners.

In a way, Johnson does have to do everything. His job requires him to be involved in many different facets of marketing. Behind the scenes, he works with advertisers and night clubs to establish customers and contacts. Then he works with the public to bring in the crowds, spending night after night out on the town.

After resolving the banner issue, Johnson returns to the VIP lounge to work the crowd. He picks up a Washington Apple martini, the night’s special drink, and thrusts it at Nicola.

He sighs, and says in a quick aside: “I don’t know how much longer I can do this.” But there is a mischievous gleam in his eye when he looks at me:

“Wanna come out again tomorrow?

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