Start A Conversation | Save the Party campaigner Joel Jackson offers up some swag while talking to partiers on Whyte Avenue.
It was an ominous start to my Friday night.
“What the fuck are you guys doing?”
That’s the first question received by six “Save the Party” campaign workers outside Boston Pizza on the corner of 106th Street and Jasper Avenue.
A drunken middle-aged man calling himself Alf staggers across the parking lot in blue jeans and a black Iron Maiden T-shirt.
It was only minutes past 9:30 p.m.
The tension in Alf’s approach, however, is stifled as the campaigners casually explain their purpose: to save the city’s bustling party areas from fighting, public urination, littering, and vandalism.
Alf seems pleased with the friendly conversation.
“A lot of people paint those who go out to bars with the same brush, saying everyone who goes to Whyte or Jasper just wants to get drunk, break stuff, and get into fights,” campaign manager Geoff Grimble says. “In reality, it’s just a minority that’s like that, and they’re getting all the attention. That misperception actually creates problems.”
“Save the Party” is part of Responsible Hospitality Edmonton’s ongoing efforts to curb violence on Jasper and Whyte Avenue. The group includes members from the hospitality industry, residents, and members of city council. Going from bar to bar along Jasper Avenue in vibrant T-shirts of yellows, oranges and greens, the “Save the Party” crew breaks the ice with free portable ashtrays and sunny personalities, and talks about responsible party behaviour.
As we walk down the avenue at about 10 p.m., we pass few people. The campaigners move west through the warm evening, and stop a few people milling around entrances at Oil City Roadhouse, The Bank, and farther down at On the Rocks. Lineups form outside the bars about an hour later, snaking farther down sidewalks. Oil City Roadhouse and the Vinyl Lounge, between 107th and 108th Streets, create the biggest congregations, with up to 30 people waiting to get in at times, and more spilling over onto sidewalks to enjoy their cigarettes.
Outside the Vinyl Lounge, 23-year-old Shawn Crawford listens with skepticism to the crew’s spiel. “Their intentions are good, but fighting’s going to happen anyway,” he concludes.
Party people aren’t the only ones targeted by Responsible Hospitality Edmonton. There’s also a bouncer certification program, which grew out of some of the group’s other street campaigns. The program teaches club security personnel how to keep tempers down, even before patrons enter the bar.
“If people have been waiting in line for half an hour, and the bouncer is being aggressive, they may get a chip on their shoulder when they finally get in,” Grimble says. He thinks bouncers who are quick to use violence inside a venue also promote it on the street, where recently roughed-up patrons are sent. “Experienced bouncers will find more creative ways to suppress situations.”
Back on Jasper, campaigners are still received with interest and enthusiasm, but staying on topic becomes slightly strained as the drinks flow. One man outside On the Rocks on 117th Street sees a connection between the campaign’s intention to make the city safer at night, the buttons and ashtrays they give away, and marital values, but finds it difficult to express the link, managing only to repeat several times that the swag used by the campaign doesn’t mean anything when considering the divorce rate.
But campaign supervisor Michael Schwake isn’t discouraged. “Social marketing means making small changes to create big ones,” he says. “At the very least, if we make someone think twice, that creates change.”
By 1:30 a.m., the campaigners are finishing their last conversations at Oil City Roadhouse, ready for the end of their shift. They leave with the hope that their words might linger to discourage even one act of destructive behaviour as the party continues without them.

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