My friend David Nadel, Owner of Ashkenaz Dance Cafe
in Berkeley, died on Saturday December 21, 1996, after having been shot Thursday night,
point blank, in the head at the entrance of Ashkenaz.
I first met David when I used to go out dancing at Aitos
on San Pablo Avenue in Berkeley. That was in 1972, and David lived around the corner
from Aitos, just off San Pablo Avenue. in Berkeley.
After dancing all evening at Aitos, David, Erik, Phoebe, Glorianne, Patel and I would go
to David and Erik's house to enjoy tea and late night conversations. David told us one
night that he was going to open his own dance cafe. I could not imagine this
plain-spoken, humble, idealistic man could build this dream.
But, in the next year he did open Ashkenaz, a few blocks
north on San Pablo and Gilman in Berkeley. It was in a sort of warehouse, filled with
little shops. David built a dance floor, put up a sign, and the dancing started. David,
with a great sense of humor, was always warm, funny and responsive. He would stay up
late, keeping the club open until just a few people were left dancing. Often David and a
few of us would go out for donuts until early in the morning. He was dedicated to
making Ashkenaz the ideal dance spot as well as to having a good time and working
towards his various political and ideological goals.
I didn't
always agree with him, and, sadly, didn't always have faith that he would
realize each vision he had for improving Ashkenaz. He was in so many ways stronger
than his engaging presence suggested. And his modesty belied the impact he had on all
of us.
David was also a superb dancer. I loved to watch him do
Applachian Clogging, which he had learned when he was a member of
Westwind, an international folk dance performing group in San Francisco. He
was also an excellent Bulgarian dancer, and did Cajun and Scandinavian dances
beautifully.
A vegetarian, David did not wear leather. But years ago
he told me about a pair of leather shoes that he was having made: The cow had died of
natural causes, so it was not against his principles to use it.
I spoke to him in person early in December, when I was
teaching Cajun and Zydeco at Ashkenaz for the last time, and I learned that his income
was at the
poverty level. All he had was Ashkenaz. He was wearing a button that said, "Tax the
rich until there aint no more rich." He paid the bands and his employees well, and was
upbeat about the future of Ashkenaz.
I miss him very much. I'm sorry I never told him how much he meant to me, to all
of us.
David, we love you
[SF Chronicle Article about the shooting]