The Arena at Gwinnett Center: It's People, Stupid.

On the heels of the third installment of our fire safety reviews comes the fourth; a trip to the Arena at Gwinnett Center. Why so soon? Because we were there the night after we were at the EARL for our third review.


The Arena at Gwinnett Center
6400 Sugarloaf Parkway
Duluth, GA 30097
Capacity: 13,100
Visited On: October 25, 2008
Reason For Visit: Band-Weezer

What Could Burn: That's a tough question in a building this big. There really isn't much. In the seating area for concerts the seats themselves are the only real concern beside the stage. But the seats are probably required to be fire-resistive. (Note: There is no such thing as fire-proof. Everything will burn.) There are box seats in suites that probably have quite a bit of flammable furniture and other stuff. But on the whole - not much here to burn.

Egress: These kinds of buildings tend to be on the up and up. The elected officials and bureaucrats that are responsible for these things don't want 13,100 dead people on their hands so they are pretty strict. Buildings this size are expensive as hell so adding a little more cost for fire safety isn't really that much to ask.

These buildings are built to get people in an out quickly so there are plenty of exits to the lobby areas. But unlike our previous discussions about how people leave buildings in a panic this turns that argument on its ear.

In case you haven't read any of the other entries in this series, most people in a panic leave exactly the way they entered. This is exactly what happened at the Station Nightclub fire where 100 people died and 200 were injured. Fifty-eight of that 100 dead were found in the immediate vicinity of the front door even though there were other exits available. They piled up and were unable to get out ahead of a rapidly moving fire. It's truly horrible video if you see the full unedited tape.

Anyway, egress is a main concern of buildings the size of the Arena. That's what makes the complete absence of exit signs within the seating area so odd. I have to theorize that the exits aren't marked so that people will, contrary to what we think we want them to do, do what we know they will do. I think they are actually relying on people moving up the stairs the way they came in. If there were exit signs down near the floor area, for instance, it would be very possible that people would go that way. And in a building this big you risk getting lost. So going out the way you came in is actually a good idea.

Fire Protection: The building is sprinklered in the common areas and anywhere else the ceiling is a reasonable height. But in large open areas like the seating area sprinklers really aren't going to do you any good. The sprinkler head has to get up to a reasonably high temperature to activate. The area at the ceiling of an arena would have to be really hot over a large space to activate a sprinkler head. And this is only going to happen if the thing is rolling. And I mean rolling to the point that sprinklers wouldn't put the fire out at that point.

Miscellaneous: When we walked in the door we were immediately greeted by a haze in all of the lights of the lobby areas. Of course it was just the smoke effects for the band that was already playing, but it was funny nonetheless.

Overall: What can I say, it's really a pretty safe place from a fire safety standpoint. I give The Arena at Gwinnett Center an Above Average rating. The only real problem is the number of people that you're surrounded by. So as long as you keep your wits about you, you should be pretty safe. Just remain aware and vigilant.

The East Atlanta Restaurant and Lounge

Welcome to my third installment of fire safety reviews of band venues in the Atlanta area. Our first two reviews took place in the same building, but we have moved to East Atlanta for our next review. We went to the E.A.R.L. to see the amazing Ben Kweller.

E.A.R.L.
488 Flat Shoals Ave.
East Atlanta, GA 30316
Capacity: 300?
Visited On: October 24, 2008
Reason For Visit: Band - Ben Kweller

What Could Burn: Well, in a word: everything. The EARL is in an older building in East Atlanta. It wouldn't surprise me if it was more than sixty years old. It is wood frame construction with only limited fire-resistive components (I wasn't able to inspect the walls but they might be cinder block.) The roof is wood with exposed rafters throughout the venue area. More importantly, the floor of the venue is wooden. Although I couldn't check it out at the time, there is a distinct possibility that this building has a basement or at least a crawl space based on this floor construction.

The prospect of there being a basement below is somewhat troubling; fire in the basement, floor collapse, etc. The building's age is a pro and a con at the same time. It's old and could come down any minute vs. it's old and has stood for sixty years so why would it come down now?

Egress: There are two ways out of the venue. The way you come in is through a door with a long hallway on the other side. At that side of the room there are actually two doors; one marked entrance and one exit. The problem here is that the entrance door swings in. In a panic it is very possible that people will try to go out the way they came in. And here we're talking not just the direction but the actual door. Paula actually made this mistake when we were leaving. The fact that the door swings open into the venue poses the problem that people will jam up against it then be unable to open it. It would be a simple thing to remedy but I don't know if anyone has realized the danger.

There is another exit on the other side of the room with the door near the front of the stage. As I mentioned in the last review I don't like having to go close to the stage to exit since that's where a fire is most likely to start. But this exit makes up for its proximity to the stage by being an oversized door. I think this is probably that way so that bands can load equipment a little easier, but it makes for a better exit. The door doesn't lead directly to the outside but from what I could see it's only a few feet to the exterior door.

Both exits from the venue are properly marked with lit signs and both are free from obstruction.

Fire Protection: The building isn't sprinklered probably due to the fact that it was built long before they became required. It is somewhat surprising that they aren't required when an older building changes uses as this one did when it became a bar. I realize that it does represent a substantial investment but it's not without merit.

Miscellaneous: I did locate a fire extinguisher near the rear exit. It was the only one I saw and probably was the only one in the room due to the fact that the standard for most occupancies is 75 ft of travel distance. That means that you can't have to walk more than 75 ft to the extinguisher from any point in the room. As usual I located the extinguisher and made mental plans for employing it in case of an emergency.

The room is pretty dark with the only real light coming from the stage area, but there really isn't any furniture or anything else for you to bump into.

This show was a non-smoking show so that takes away some of the possibility of an accidental fire but usually the EARL allows smoking...lots of smoking.

Overall: Well, the EARL is a nice place to see a show. I've seen a few bands there and it seems a lot of the bands I like like to play there. But from a fire safety standpoint I have to give the venue an average rating based on the type of construction and lack of a sprinkler system. I give them points for their exits and the fire extinguisher in the open, but it's not enough to totally ease my mind.

Which is really the point of all of these reviews. I'm not slanting my reviews to purposefully frighten people but it's really something that you should think about. Anytime you are in a structure with a lot of other people (many of whom are not necessarily thinking with all of their abilities) you need to plan your way out.

Vinyl Will Burn

This post is the second in my series on fire safety at venues around Atlanta. I previously had reviewed The Loft after seeing Steel Train and The Hush Sound there. Well, once again the band is Steel Train but the venue has changed. But not so much. You see, Vinyl is located in the same building as The Loft.

Vinyl
1374 West Peachtree Street
Atlanta, Ga 30309
Capacity: 300
Visited On: October 22, 2008
Reason for Visit: Band - Steel Train

What Could Burn: Since Vinyl is located in the same building as The Loft we find the same type of construction. And as before we find that the danger is the contents, not the building itself. Vinyl is sparsely decorated, but there are portions that are cause for pause; specifically over the audience in front of the stage. Fabric has been attached to the ceiling in a kind of draping decoration. It's gathered in places and hangs in others. The problem with it is that it's above the sprinkler heads. If the fabric were to catch fire the heat from the fire would be above the sprinkler heads and wouldn't activate them. What's more, the smoke would probably be bad. It would choke and blind the patrons preventing them from finding the way out. Which leads us to...

Egress: There are three ways out of Vinyl. The first is the front door leading in off of the street. It's just a few steps down and not much of a worry. Except for the fact that the emergency exit sign is currently not working. So that leaves only the other two. The second exit is actually a hallway into another part of the building. It's also only a few feet from the front door, both of which are to the left of the stage. The third exit is located in a door to the right of the stage.

Now, three exits from this very small bar/venue sounds pretty generous, but the problem is that all of the exits are right around the stage. If the fire starts on the stage (a likelihood with all of that lighting) you would have to pass the fire to get out. There is no exit to the rear of the bar, which is pretty surprising. There are windows across the front of the building but these are also behind the stage which has its back to the street. So Vinyl doesn't really pass on my egress standard.

Fire Protection: Vinyl has sprinkler protection over every area that I could see which is great. But if you look closely at the front of the building you will note that the sprinkler connection is hidden behind some bushes that someone planted. That's right, the connection that the fire department hooks up to to assist the sprinkler system with putting the fire out is blocked with a bush. Now, I'm not saying the sprinkler system won't put the fire out by itself, but you're not supposed to hide the FDC (fire department connection) either.

Miscellaneous: I did see a fire extinguisher out in the audience area mounted on the wall which is somewhat out of the ordinary due to the fact that drunk people like to play with fire extinguishers. But having the extinguisher out where people like me can get to them could mean all the difference. I've often thought how different the Station fire would have been if someone had the presence of mind to grab a fire extinguisher and hit the fire on the ceiling once.

Darkness is also a factor in Vinyl although not as much as previously mentioned in my review of The Loft. Once again the only real light is the stage, but Vinyl does a better job with small lights sprinkled around areas of the ceiling.

Smoking is allowed and to some extent encouraged as someone came around and put an ashtray down in front of us. That of course is a danger.

Overall: Vinyl is very similar to The Loft in most respects. However, the lack of exits on the other side of the room is troubling. When comparing Vinyl so some of the other venues in Atlanta it comes out ahead, but I never got far away from the exits. As a matter of fact, when Steel Train took the stage I was right up front. Near the band. Near the exits.

A Legend

Supposedly, Paul Newman once speculated that his epitaph would read, "Here lies Paul Newman, who died a failure because his eyes turned brown." That's pretty funny if it's a true story. But it never would have ended that way. Paul Newman was not a failure.

I was particularly saddened when I heard that he had died. I think I used the word "devastated" at one point. The news caught me by surprise. A friend said to me something to the effect of, "it's so sad that Paul Newman died." I, of course, hadn't heard.

I tried a few times to write something that adequately expressed my admiration for his work, but it always ended up sounding pathetic. I mean, you're talking about an actor that is a star of one of my favorite movies of all time (Road To Perdition), an actor whose brilliant performance played into me naming one of my children (Cool Hand Luke), and a person who by all accounts was a nice guy.

Then I saw the article by David Ansen in Newsweek. He hits it all just right and says everything I wanted to.

The Verdict: A Legend
by David Ansen
reprinted without permission from Newsweek magazine

When Paul Newman turned 70, I asked him about the pros and cons of aging. "What's difficult about getting old," he said, with that gravelly voice that set in in his 60s, "is remembering the way things used to be. There were such things as loyalty. The community hadn't disintegrated. The individual had not been deified at the expense of everything around him. I don't think that's just an old codger, you know, wishing for the old days. Goddam, they were better. There was a lot of ugliness, but there was a lot more grace." Newman, a modest man, would have been embarrassed to be told that he exemplified that grace, both on screen, where in his prime he played heels whom everyone fell in love with, and off, where his generosity, professionalism and decency were legendary.

Newman became a star playing Rocky Graziano in the 1956 black-and-white boxing saga "Somebody Up There Likes Me." But to get the full force of his matinee-idol presence, you had to see him—and those famous blue eyes—in color. The star of "The Long, Hot Summer," "Exodus," "Cat on a Hot Tin Roof" and "Cool Hand Luke" was arguably the most beautiful man in an industry that revered beauty. Newman knew his stardom was built on that classic profile, that ripped, often-exposed torso, those eyes, and it tormented him. It wasn't who he wanted to be. He was a Method-trained character actor who longed to disappear inside his roles. Instead, his roles had a habit of disappearing inside the mythical creature named Paul Newman. "Paul Newman IS 'Hud'," ran the ad line for his classic 1963 Martin Ritt movie, and it was more true than the filmmakers intended. He was playing a selfish, womanizing Texas cad, the purported villain, but his charm and innate likability were so strong they threw the movie out of whack—and turned it into a big hit. Newman's specialty was the deeply flawed, morally tarnished American hero—Fast Eddie in "The Hustler," Chance Wayne in "Sweet Bird of Youth," the washed-up lawyer in "The Verdict," Sully in "Nobody's Fool"—who carried inside his sardonic heart the hint of redemption. In his most popular movies in the '60s and '70s—"Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid," "The Sting"—he was a scamp, a con man, a rough-edged charmer. The devastating blue eyes had acquired a roguish twinkle.

The paradox of his career was that he became a great romantic icon playing characters who were usually incapable of love. With men he was a great buddy, partner in crime, leader of the pack. But you can count the love stories he made on the fingers of one hand. Unlike his friend and frequent costar Robert Redford, whose movies pivot on romance, Newman played antiheroes who were gun-shy, like Brick in "Cat on a Hot Tin Roof," who spends an entire movie rejecting Elizabeth Taylor's advances, or Fast Eddie, whose lover kills herself. In spite of that, his hustler proved so popular that he reprised the role in the 1986 "The Color of Money," and won an Oscar. It's hard to think of another star so beloved by both men and women who had such a dismal on-screen amatory track record. His most successful long-term relationship was with us.

Newman didn't just talk about the good old days; he walked the walk. In an era of cheap celebrity and promiscuous self exposure, he kept his personal demons to himself and approached whatever he took up with the tenacity of the long distance runner. His marriage to Joanne Woodward lasted 50 years. When he began racing, he became a world-class driver. An unreconstructed liberal, he marched for civil rights, steadfastly supported Democratic candidates and put his money into The Nation, the left-wing weekly, when it was threatened with extinction. His charitable efforts are well known. He started his Newman's Own food-products line as a lark with his friend A. E. Hotchner, and built it into an altruistic empire.

Everyone who knew Newman well describes him as intensely private. He was also famous for his elaborate practical jokes: he once had a Porsche crushed, beribboned and deposited on Redford's driveway. "I think my sense of humor is the only thing that keeps me sane," he told me in 1994. He was one of the biggest stars in Hollywood history, yet there wasn't a shred of the diva in him. I suspect he never felt he deserved his fame and fortune, and he refused to throw his weight around. Melanie Griffith, who worked with him in "Nobody's Fool," described him as "the best gentleman I've ever met in 30 years of movies." Such grace will be sorely missed.