What these people, and I don't think they are more smart than any Pal. terrorist, they should pardon the comparison, took less than 15 years to figure out, the PLO, Hamas, Fatah and Islamic Jihad still are ignoring.
ON most nights of the week between 11 p.m. and 4 a.m. you'll find Carlos Robinson — all 6 feet 9 inches of him — looming over the velvet rope at Lotus or the Double Seven, two of the more prominent nightclubs in the glitter gulch of New York's meatpacking district. He's the guy with the bulging arms, shaved head and 5.2-carat diamond earring in his right ear. When platoons of status-hungry night crawlers bum rush the door, he fends them off. If, after a few hours, patrons have had a few too many shots of Grey Goose, it is Mr. Robinson who escorts them to the curb.
But don't call him a bouncer.
During the heyday of the no-holds-barred New York club world of the 70's and 80's, bouncers were guys who worked for cash and essentially made up the rules as they went along. When patrons acted up, the bouncers kept order with chokeholds and knockout punches. But as licensing laws for security guards took hold in the mid-90's, and as the clubs themselves began cleaning up and catering to moneyed professionals, bouncers underwent an image change.
Though most people still refer to the big guys lurking in and outside nightclubs as bouncers, Mr. Robinson, who got his start 20 years ago working at raucous megaclubs like the Limelight and the Tunnel, now goes by the title director of security. Italian-cut suits, dark shirts and ties have replaced muscle T-shirts, black leather vests and heavy construction boots. And according to Mr. Robinson and his colleagues the ethos of busting heads has been replaced by one of polite, if imposing diplomacy. "Nowadays it's more of an intelligent job," Mr. Robinson said.