THE club space at
1181 North Sea Road has seen its share of successful
reinventions over the past few years. It started in 1999 as the
Hamptons-defining Jet East, became African game lodge-inspired
Cain Southampton last year, and this summer it will debut as the
nautical-themed club Dune.
But one thing
that’s stayed the same is bouncer Charly Savnik’s presence at
the door from Memorial Day to Labor Day. During those three
months the 32-year-old Manhasset native is king.
“Say what you
want about Paris and Lindsay, or whoever,” says Savnik, who
spends the rest of the year turning wrenches at Hampton Oil
Changer. “I’ve seen them in every capacity - drunk, sober,
happy, upset - but they’ve always treated me with respect and
done what I asked them to do.”
And who wouldn’t?
At 6-foot-2 and 230 pounds, no one’s kicking sand in this guy’s
face. But Savnik insists diplomacy is the primary skill needed
in his line of work.
“There are
certain people whose parents are lawyers, and they’ll threaten
to call if I don’t let them in,” Savnik says dismissively. But
does that actually go any further? “Oh, they’ll call, and they
still don’t get in. Write that - they’ll know who they are.”
Surely Savnik’s
been tempted to end such conversations with a right hook?
“I don’t pride
myself on being the biggest guy out there,” Savnik says, not
that he can’t go a few rounds if need be. “I say to people, ‘We
could do this the good way or the bad way, we could roll on the
ground like “real men” or you can do what I ask.’ That usually
works. I don’t like dealing with animals.”
He recalls
spotting Michael Bolton a couple years ago, waiting unnoticed
among hundreds of would-be visitors.
“I asked what he
was doing out there, and he said he ‘didn’t want to cut the
line!’ ” marvels Savnik, admitting to liking the crooner who may
not top a lot of “most hip” lists - though he, of course,
ushered Bolton inside.
“I’m the
strictest guy out there,” says Savnik, a married father of two
who still tries to go out when possible. “When I was 18 years
old, I tried to get into all the clubs, and they wouldn’t let me
do it.”
Savnik starts his
nights with a quick bite before manning the door at Dune until 4
a.m. He’ll go out on Thursdays, when many clubs host locals’
nights.
If you’re one who
parties the other weekend nights, he suggests you practice the
Golden Rule and don’t be a “Citiot,” a locals’ term for New
Yorkers who come into town, “waving money around” and being
generally obnoxious. Though Savnik concedes the locals don’t
much like the way city slickers tie up traffic in the summer, he
counts himself among the many who appreciate the jobs and
excitement visitors bring to his town.
