Millennium
M adness

Despite stories to the contrary,

many Israelis enjoyed the secular

celebrations with great verve.

NECHEMIAH MEYERS
Israel Correspondent

•

The sun reflects off the golden Dome of the Rock
mosque during the first sunrise over
Jerusalem in the 21st century, Jan. 1, 2000._

1/7
2000

24

Rehovot, Israel
t the end of last week, the streets of Israeli cities were plas-
tered with large notices warning citizens not to celebrate
Sylvester (the name used here and in Europe for New
Year's Eve). The reason given: "In the course of history,
over a million Jews were killed on Dec. 31, the day on which the
Catholic Church celebrates the memory of a rabidly anti-Semitic 4th
Century cleric they call St. Sylvester."
No one who planned to go to a New Year's Eve party paid heed to
the notices; indeed, during this millennium year, parties here were more
plentiful and boisterous than ever. They didn't take place in hotels
because the owners were warned by the rabbinate that their kashrut cer-
tificates would be withdrawn if they hosted celebrations of the "goyish
holiday." But there were crowded parties aplenty in private homes and
nightclubs all over the country, including some in kibbutzim.
Perhaps the hottest celebration vvas.in, surprisingly, Jerusalem. At
Ha'uman 17, perhaps the country's top nightclub and with some-
thing of an international reputation, revelers rocked the night away.
This is quite out of keeping with Jerusalem's image, as a rather
dull city dominated by people who know more about the Talmud
than Trance, the popular dance with today's youth. But, in fact,
south Jerusalem is as swinging a place as there is in this country, and
frequented by Tel Avivians no less than by Jerusalemites.
Reuven Lublin, an immigrant from Peru, runs Ha'uman 17. He
acquired his love for dancing in Lima. After making aliya, he worked
as a disc jockey at the student club of the Hebrew University, where,
in his spare time, he also studied. Five years ago, he and four part-
ners opened Ha'uman 17, and they haven't looked back since then.
There are clear rules and regulations at the club. For example, no
one under the age of 23 is admitted. Sexual orientation, however,
doesn't matter. As a matter of fact, the establishment is particularly
hospitable to gays because, says Lublin, "They are people who really
know how to have a good time."
The prestige of Israeli nightclub proprietors, he observes, "has
risen enormously in recent years. It wasn't so long ago that people
like me were considered criminals and pimps.
"Now, to show you how much things have changed, I was given a
place on the election list of Mayor Ehud Olmert, most of whose
coalition partners are Orthodox or ultra-Orthodox. Because of those
partners," Lublin adds, "the municipality was unable 'to recognize'
New Year's Eve."
Apart from the big bang on Dec. 31, Lublin runs two dance nights
a week, when his club — which holds 1,500 people — is usually full
of men and women who pay an admission fee of $15 per person. In
return, they are hosted by leading disc jockeys, many of them from
Europe. But the traffic is by no means one way. Israel's DJs, like its
high-tech mavens, are now recognized stars all over the world.
So when the next party of the millennium hits, Israel stands to be
much better prepared than some might have thought. El

