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I was member 00073,a Factory fan, and went along to the opening night in May 1982. City Life had been running a column about the club and when we all saw it we could not believe it. And why did Bernard Manning appear?
I thought they'd be playing Factory records all night long but the music was much more varied, great dance music. There was a track called "Holland Slow Dive" or something played every Saturday and Thunderbirds played at the end of each evening.
I went a lot for the next couple of years when I was in Manchester, primarily attending the concerts on that stage. New Order, Smiths, Frankie Goes to Hollywood, William Burroughs (Thee Final Academy) were so crowded and brilliant.
I loved the empty nights too. 25 people to see Blackpool's Section 25, 5 people to see Dome Video Night. (That night we just hit the cocktail bar, again and ran around). The posters were cool too.
Went back in 1990 to see "Madchester" in action. I think the sound was better and louder and more crazy.
Met Paul Morley's sister each week as she towed a plastic duck around. Always said hi.
I'm from Brazil, and I was traveling in the UK in January 1992 when I decided to check out the Hacienda. Some people from London told me it wasn't worth the trip to Manchester since the place was decadent at that point. But that didn't stop me from getting the first northbound train. I really wanted to visit the city that spurred my favorite 80's bands and It wasn't a Londoner that would talk me out of It.
When I got to the queue outside the club I thought the crowd was a bit too casual. I was expecting to see weird freaks or something. Things were different inside the Hacienda. There was definitely something going on there, probably the E's kicking in, so all those well-to-do-looking people started to act like they were all happy robots operating in a different voltage.
I was 19 by then, and although I had already taken substances previously in my life, I had never had Ecstasy and wasn't confident about taking it at that time, and was all by myself and surrounded by strangers, which made things worse. So I stuck to the music and danced the whole night, trying to keep up with all the crazy robots around me. I think I managed to get into the general mood, probably because I was really excited to be at the Hacienda. It may sound corny, but the truth is It was the fulfillment of a dream, and I got really high because of that.
I knew It didn't have the same Factory vibe, nor could I see anything reminding me of New Order, The Mondays or the Acid House era, but It was a very worthwhile experience. I'm looking forward to watch the movie, but I suspect It will take some time for it to arrive in Brazil. If I wait for too long, I'm sure I'll be very upset.
Towards the end of it all, I recall one wednesday night - main club closed off, downstairs to the 'gay traitor', then through a little doorway, into the bowels of the building for a rather bizarre northern soul night, I think it was a spin-off from the 'fuse' night - very good indeed - but as ever there was an air of unease as 'salford' were in and those 'keepin the faith' were not sure where it was all going to end up.......
PS Before it all started, some of you might recall that the 'yacht warehouse' was the only place in mcr to get the original 'javelin' boating shoes we're talking 79/80
NU
DE
Friday July 7 - 1989
As a New Order fan, I'd heard about the Haçienda in their interviews. However being unable to drive meant convincing other friends with cars to make the 50 mile trip over. Once we'd done it once though, that's it we were hooked.
We were lucky the first time to even get in, as we didn't turn up till about 10.30 . Walking along the street, the sound of the "doof,doof,doof" shaking the black windows made us grin realising we were in for a good night. Unbelievably, there was no queue, so all 8 of us paid our £2.50 and went straight in. What a sight met us. The building, the people, it just made us all run round like little kids in an adventure playground. Three and a half hours of solid dancing later, we didn't want it to end. I can clearly remember the place going ballistic to L'il Louis' French Kiss. During the orgasm part I couldn't even hear the woman moaning. The lights were up, arms were in the air, sirens & whistles were blaring, it was just suuperb ! ((c) Graeme Park).
Drenched with sweat, we all left planning our next visit (of many). "Get there when it opens, we don't want to miss one minute". I guess a lot of other people had the same idea, because in a very short number of weeks the queues just grew and grew. Back at work, I'd tell my workmates about my Friday nights in Manchester: the collective atmosphere of a packed smoke filled club,dancing on stages and podiums with sweat dripping from the walls and spilled drinks & sweat all over the floor. But they just didn't get it. They used to think "you're mad going to a nightclub like that". In 1989, shirts & ties + shoes was almost the uniform in many other places. And they couldn't understand the queing.
Standing outside the FAC51 sign at 7pm on a Friday, waiting at least 2 hours to get in was never boring. We'd meet people and have a good laugh. A certain fella with long blond hair would often be there with us, and my mate Chris would keep us all entertained. It was always a relief for all of us to get in though. I think only once did we get turned away by the bouncers, and that was absolutely "gutting".
As I was brought up and spent nearly thirty years in Manchester, there's a lot to go through really, so I have just raided what's left of the memory banks for specifically personal Haçienda-related memories. First time I ever went there about 4 months after it opening, was a Tuesday morning - I'd been and sorted out my membership card that day, and walked in full of anticipation to find about 5 people there. Tune playing as I walked through the door was "Bela Lugosi's Dead". Fast forward a few years later to Wednesdays for the Hot nights. Rammed club, paddling pools and bandanas are what I remember and Foot Patrol as always kicking up a storm down by the load in doors near the archways. Forward another 18 months to our regular Friday night routine; sort out the guest list in the afternoon with Fiona (Allen, now successful TV/radio comedy actor), send my mate Phil out to find the disco biscuits (NEVER at the City road or in the club!), get there for 9:30 and no later, dropping on the way there, lose it completely till about 12:30, by which time we'd been on the stage for two hours then we'd all pile into a car or a cab to get to the Man Alive to see Nipper, drink bottles of Canei and stare at the beach through the glass. Forward another 2 years or so to the 1991 birthday party - "Rhythm Is A Mystery", glitter, 2,000 people and the best birthday party I ever had there...forward about another three years or so and the fist time I ever went into the DJ box was to DJ there - still get goosebumps now, thinking about it. To see that view and actually about to play my first record- NEVER had such tingles and shits anywhere else like that night...forward to the night before it closed, DJ decks on the stage, for an Ibiza launch party - a no show by DJ Alfredo , so me and Dave Kendrick on for the night. Walking onto the stage and Dave saying to me "it's fucking scary tonight"...And finally, fast forward to a warehouse in Ancoats, walking through the wasteland to find the old blue doors, swing em open, look to the right, there's Rachel on the cloakroom again, and in front of me near the arch is Paul Mason...further inside, there's Parky, Moonboots, Ang, the Dry barstaff, Leroy, Dave Haslam, Da Silva. I'm wearing white kickers, loose jeans, a mambo t shirt, Voodoo Ray is playing, I am in the box looking out again and I get to say goodbye properly. My mate Mike says to me at the end "That's the best night I've ever had NOT in the Haçienda ...".
The Summer of Love for me was the Haç in 1989, eighteen years old, hopelessly in love with a blond bombshell indie chick called Kath. She dragged me reluctantly to a trendy club called the Hacienda and I never looked back - I had long hair and a bike jacket which eventually gave way to a bob and baggies, my teenage nihilism was replaced with a hope and belief in the potential of the people and music. The Haç was part of a movement, a generation learning expression. Perhaps it was the coming of age of the city itself, or the fact that a new world of love had opened up to me personally, but the feeling which became Madchester was a tangible thing, thrilling and inseparable from the music, the people, their happy smiling faces - and that club.
I really came into my own at FLESH, Haçienda. It has still been the best time of my life. I was 16 and travelled up from Stafford on the last Wednesday of each month, with every outfit carefully prepared and made (often with a bit of Westwood thrown in)! I made some amazing friends, some that I've kept in touch with and some that have moved on. Yvonne, with her wooden shawl that snapped in two halfway through the night; 'Becky, who came from Devon and did Anna Karen-chic and who constantly amused me with her Hyacinth Bouquet impressions; Angel&Coco - the best and bitchiest drag around; Paddy, Jo, Suzanne, Little Des - I love you all! I did get thrown out one night by those fucking doormen - I slipped on the corrugated flooring in my Westwood 'Rockinghorse' shoes and knocked myself out. "That's it! You're off your nut, OUT!" CUNTS!
Next door, afterwards, to 'Sweat', 'til 9 or 10, then Manto's! God, bring it all back!
The first club I ever went to was the Haçienda. It was 1988. It was well before a marketing executive thought up "Madchester", before everything spiralled out of control, before "Gunchester" and the inevitable plight of Fac51. In those days there was no such thing as "super-clubs"; Ibiza was a holiday island for families; an E was the fifth letter of the alphabet and Manchester was perceived as nothing more than a rainy, depressed mill town.
I was 16 and the night was "Zumbar". I was excited to be going to a club; excited to be going to The Hacienda. It wasn't the world famous club that it became, but it was infamous within Manchester, and I loved the thought that my first time, my first clubbing experience would be here. One bite & I was hooked. I spent many a happy time in the Haç. I grew up there. From start to bitter end, it was THE club THE place. It was really quite innocent in those halcyon days. There was no bad vibe. Just people; all kinds of people; scallies, posh, students, arty types, rock stars, all gathered together lifting our arms out to the sky....singing along to the anthems..... "it's gonna be alright...... coz the music plays forever on & on ..."
We meant every word of it. For the hours we were safe within the walls of the Haç; to be who we wanted to be . Then we thought we could change the world. That all men were equal on the dancefloor. We shared our drinks, our cigs, our stash with complete strangers, and didn't want anything back in return. Sure there were advantage-takers out there; but usually things were cool. People were different. Clubs were different.
