The rise and fall and rise of Montreal disco impresario Michael Bookalam

 Few Montreal lives scream movie script baby! like that of Michael Bookalam, who went from young college athletic god... to downtown disco impresario... to cocaine addict... to serious felon...and then.... finally ...back to clean-living model of rehabilitation...   but with a dramatic hiccup that you'll learn about if you read to the end. (Good luck with that! -  Chimples)
   Bookalam, born in 1952, was raised in comfort, as his Lebanese-Canadian father was an heir to Montreal's Kiddie Togs Company.
   His family includes bombastic cousin and noted Canadian TV celebrity Kevin O'Leary of Dragon's Den fame (O'Leary is the son of Bookalam's father's sister).
   Countless headlines in the Sherbrooke Record attest to the strapping Bookalam's heroic feats on both the football and hockey teams at Bishop's College, as Bookalam and his tremendous mustache would routinely rush their teams towards victory.
   It is often said - perhaps most often by Bookalam himself - that he was a defence prospect in the New York Islanders farm system but we've yet to see any evidence of that online.
    Bookalam's first big business venture was a biggie that caused everybody to stand up and take notice before gyrating feverishly to the thumping speaker beat.
   On August 8, 1978 Bookalam and partner Saul Zuckerman launched what would become Montreal's most ambitious primo hotspot discotheque of its day, the 1234 at the former Wray-Walton-Wray funeral home on Mountain.
    Swarms of people, including celebrities like Guy Lafleur, Omar Sharif, Paul Anka, Tommy Hearns and Pierre Trudeau frequented the place.
  All went swimmingly for Bookalam save for a family tragedy which saw his sister perish in a car crash while traveling with her boyfriend, a nice young guy who had friends in the mob.
    Bookalam, as Montreal disco king, wed top local model Christine Sweeney but their relationship bore not children and ended in 1983.
   As disco owner, Bookalam enjoyed partying and got in the habit - as many did at the time - of sniffing copious amounts of that reliable pick-me-up: powdered cocaine.
   Cocaine was, and still is I guess, incredibly addictive and Bookalam later reported that he purchased nearly $1 million worth, although we're not sure how carefully he was keeping score.

Pierre Trudeau at 1234

    Nightclub overhead costs and partying life forced Bookalam into a cash crunch that persuaded him to seek fast cash in an illicit drug transaction that could might have earned him $8-$10 million.
    Police were one step ahead of the game as they had electronic surveillance on his apartment in a 10-storey building at Alexis Nihon and Ward in St. Laurent
    He was busted in an undercover sting selling heroin and speed to an undercover cop in 1983 and sentenced to seven years, of which he ended up serving 28 months, including 31 days in solitary confinement for suspected drug dealing within the prison.
   After two years and four months inside, in December 1986 Bookalam was out on parole and living at a halfway house in the Point.

 He had given up drugs for good and was promoting a T-shirt featuring the bold logo  Drug Free Body, part of the proceeds going to drug rehab facilities.

    The T-shirts cost a then-exorbitant $18 but were a hit when they rolled out of Emanuel Geraldo Accessories Inc division of a company run by Montreal nightclub owner Phil Gutherz.
   The shirts, $40,000 worth of them, quickly jumped off the shelves at Sears, Zellers, Eaton's and elsewhere when they went on sale in April 1987.
   Bookalam's T-shirt and uplifting message resonated.
  He guested on Good Morning America and told Gazette columnist Michael Farber in March 1987  that he had written an autobiography and was trying to get it published.
  "At 27 I had a small empire. At 29 I didn't have a thing," he said.
   An optimistic Bookalam told Farber why he kept photos on his wall from his partying days.
   "Perhaps I need them there to remind me never to go back again. But they were good times. Those pictures also remind me that I could knock on any door then, and it would open. I still think doors will open for me. I'm a very positive guy."
   Everything was back on track and looking rosy again for Bookalam until 2 May 1991 when police put the cuffs on Frank Crump, 51, in New Jersey.
   Cops considered the Philadelphia-based Crump a kingpin of heroin, prostitution and pornography.
   On the same day police interviewed Bookalam in a clothing store on Meilleur Street in Montreal.
   The next day they came to Bookalam's home on Gazaille Street in Dollard des Ormeaux and rounded him up.
   Prosecutors in St. Jerome courthouse charged Bookalam with the first-degree murder of Albert Howard Barber, 42, of New Jersey, who was shot dead in a drug burn in Ste. Adele in the Laurentians in 1983, an event that occurred prior to Bookalam's rehabilitation.
   Barber, a veteran criminal and drug smuggler, had been in Montreal for several months and was at the Motel Blanc St. Faustin for two weeks before he was found lying dead in a ditch on 8 July 1983 with three bullets in the head, near the St. Adele drive in movie theatre.
   Police hadn't been spending much time investigating Barber's murder, as they believed it to be the work of a hitman and Crump-employee Frankie Gravel, 39.
    Gravel could not be charged, as he had been found dead in a car on September 1986. (More about Gravel in my upcoming book about Montreal's West End Gang.)
    Also charged with the Barber's murder was John Coley, 51, who owned a clothing manufacturer on Port Royal.
   Coley's charge was later reduced to accessory after the fact.
    Bookalam's charge was reduced to manslaughter, for which he pleaded guilty and was sentenced 9 years and 10 months.
   Quebec authorities also sought to extradite the kingpin Crump to face trial in Quebec, as they felt that he too was present at Crump's shooting.
   No details emerged concerning what happened and who pulled the trigger.
   Crump never faced charges in Canada, presumably because his long list of charges kept him busy in American courts.
   Skeletons leaped out of Bookalam's closet to forestall his heroic resurgence and though he committed no further crimes, he was forced to return to the slammer.
    By the Nov. 1994 Bookalam was back out in the world, his presence noted on social pages, attending fund-raisers, which he did in Montreal until at least 1999.
    Bookalam then moved to the Caribbean islands of Turks and Caicos where he opened a place called the Upstairs Bar and Grill and operated an anti-crime thing called Zero Tolerance and more recently an environmentally-friendly resort.