THE TROC WILL ROCK — Thanks to Khyber Pass Pub owners (left to right) Dave and Steve Simons, the city’s largest club will be re-opening its doors this month in grand style. (photo by Gregg Kirk)

By a.d. amorosi
April 1991, Big Shout Magazine

What we’re looking at is a normal work day at Khyber Pass sometime in March, sometime in “the morning” (now anytime before 1 p.m.), somewhere in “the office” of the brothers Simons, David and Steve, sometime before the opening of their newest purchase — the Bering Strait — no, I mean the New Trocadero, as opposed to the Old Trocadero. Really opposed.

The Khyber’s office is strewn with papers, flyers, candies from all across the globe, tapes, CDs and me. Yes, this is sort of an insider’s tale of how two guys kinda grew up and got the chance to live out a couple of their dreams. As for me, I live so close to the Khyber that I spend most every morning avoiding the underside of their antique pub bar. I don’t get much of an opportunity to dream sleeping on a saloon floor.

Since every dream tale needs its beginning, it’s easiest to start the Simons’ story here at Khyber, the first rung in their ladder. Or maybe we can talk about the Troc first — that majestic club on 10th & Arch with such a rich pageant of entertainment history. Or maybe we can talk about how the last owner defiled, desecrated and just generally loused up the whole place by putting his big black thumbprints all over the clean white furniture.

Maybe I’ll just let Dave Simons, the owner of both the Khyber and the Troc talk first: “It kinda started when I was working in London at the Hard Rock Cafe in 1983, which is about a year before their New York City club opened. When I came back from London, I was supposed to go to law school, but I kind of got a taste for the bar and restaurant business while I was away. I got the chance to work at my uncle’s bar, so I figured law could wait. I pretty much handled all the operations of the bar and got it running smoothly. It was then, like 1987, I began talking to a realtor about finding a restaurant or bar in a really strong neighborhood. When we first started looking, the Khyber Pass was still open and operating, so we never considered it. All of a sudden it closed down, and that’s when we moved in.”

It closed down, they moved in. Simple. One of Philly’s oldest, established bars goes into total financial disrepair. Powee. They move in. So Steve Simons, what did you want for the well being of the Khyber?

“A lot of the bands that I liked, that my friends liked, had nowhere to play except for Bacchanal on Friday nights — bands like Nixon’s Head, the Electric Love Muffin, tons of other bands that aren’t even around anymore. I wanted a place where they could play all the time. Every night.”

So in November of 1988 the Khyber Pass reopened to packed-tight crowds practically every night. Dave Simons: “We’re always in a process of reopening. Constantly doing some sort of renovation or fixing up. We’ve opened the upstairs as a sort of living room/coffee house for the overflow of people, especially on the weekends and Wednesdays.”

The Wednesdays at Khyber, their most infamous, are dedicated to Grateful Dead fans, hardcore and novice. Bands like Peace Frog, Bluzy Morvay and Smoke Stack Lightning take the stage with selections of Dead material and originals guaranteed to make the tie-dyes straighten almost immediately. The audience is groovy, respectful, and for the most part, always keep their shoes on.

Khyber is also the home base of Steve Simons’ monster rock concept, the Love Chunks — now mired in a mass of lawsuits and scandal that’ll probably break loose just as soon as freshwater trout fishing season begins anew.

So, how ’bout that Troc? The biggest dance club in Philly? The place that started out as an opera company, commissioned by then United States President Theodore Roosevelt (from whence the place got its name: Teddy Roosevelt’s Opera Company, get it?).

Eventually it became a place where all the biggest names of vaudeville and burlesque theater would play. The stage is large, the ceilings and walls and corners are ornate, the acoustics are amazing. Three floors, including two proscenium-type balconies and a projection room. Well, after burlesque died, it became a seedy go-go joint. Then it became a Chinese-American cinema. Then it became Ricky Blatstein’s, who turned it into Gonzo heaven (or hell — take your pick).

For the rest of the story, take it away, Dave: “The Ricky Blatstein Corporation that held the Troc had gone bankrupt, or so we heard. At first we were told by Bart Blatstein that the Troc wasn’t for sale. In reality, they had re-bought it out of bankruptcy. It was then that Ricky, who was in the process of moving all his office space to Justin’s (another Blatstein venture now closed), agreed to sell.”

After all the spring/summer 1990 negotiations were finished, came the fall/winter wait for the Liquor Control Board and every other board to get with the program. Why bore you, the reader, with flashy details? Anyway, at this point in the interview at this time of the morning, the Khyber/Troc’s bar manager, Jo, leaps in with poppyseed muffins and fresh coffee, planting a kiss on Dave’s forehead (I think there’s a relationship here, but I’ll save the dirt for my book).

Sometime in March, the 4th to be exact, came the good news. All the licenses had been approved and the Troc could open anytime it wanted. So we had a party. I really don’t remember it. If anyone does, please write this author in care of this paper. All information will be confidential.

So Steve, what’s the booking policy for the bands that play at the Troc?

“I’m gonna book the bands that play at Bacchanal on Saturday nights,” he says. “Larry Goldfarb (of Golden Guru Productions) will still be booking the Sunday all-ages heavy metal shows, but we’ll be booking the rest. I mean, there’s nobody except for the Tower and the Cabarets that could book the stuff we could, and they’re not doing it. There’s a real hole in the Philly music scene for some of the bigger bands. It’s not like we’re really competition; we’re just filling the gap these other places aren’t doing or won’t do.”

Dave quietly chirps in, “Steve wouldn’t even book three-quarters of the stuff that Chestnut Cabaret books. That’s not an insult. They have a booking policy geared toward their market.”

Steve: “Lots of great bands traditionally skip Philly for lack of proper venue or audience — people like the Pet Shop Boys or Jane’s Addiction this time around. A place like the Troc bridges that gap.”

Another gap in the local scene is a place where underage dancers can commune on a continual basis. Dave: “Everybody’s got a big underage interest (is Dave sure he wants to say that?). We’re just offering them someplace to go almost all the time, year ’round. Most places in the city have really cracked down on the kinds. Guarding is more strict now.

The music at the Troc is primarily for ages 18 to 25, so why not have a place for them to hang? The place has the perfect layout for that, with separate entrances for the adults and all. No one in the city will be able to complain that they’ve got nothing to do.”

The club with the biggest dance floor in Philly (which has become Steve’s new pick-up line: “Hey, I’ve got the biggest dance floor in Philly!”) has been undergoing major renovations in order to be ready for its Friday, April 12 Grand Opening. Since the middle of March though, great, grand secret parties have been going on there. Robbie Tronco’s “Love Break” transplanted from the now demised Voodoo have been kicking up dirt and leaving no prisoners. The remainder of the dance nights promise the same. I see to that.

The club is ready to host movie premiers, fashion shows, rap, funk, blues, rock, reggae and whatnot. They’ll do your wedding, your bar mitzvah, your funeral. You name it.

Besides, maybe you’re a little like Dave Simons who said about his new baby: “Hey, maybe I just opened the Troc ’cause I got bored of hanging at the Khyber.”

Nowhere but up.