‘Synonymous with hip-hop.’ Meet the man who helped make LIV on Sunday a destination

Just after 3:30 a.m., Michael Gardner finally relaxes.

In the past few hours, he has sent bottles to Roc Nation President Omar Grant just because, grabbed the emergency pants for a promoter friend (Miami Beach nightclub LIV has a strict no shorts policy), moved one group of clubgoers into a different section to accommodate a bigger party (another bottle given away for their troubles), walked the night’s host Brent Faiyaz into the venue and even double checked the message on the VIP letter sign. Minutes later, he’ll grab a broom and sweep up some of the confetti that rained down like snow flurries at the height of the night.

Follow Gardner around and it’s clear that he’s still taking LIV on Sunday seriously even after nearly 15 years. He’s diligent. Detail-oriented. Firm when partygoers try to get in wearing shorts but respectful when turning them away. At this point, the party runs itself yet that doesn’t stop Gardner from pitching in whenever he can.

“I don’t view myself as famous or a celebrity,” Gardner said in the boardroom of his promotion company, Headliner Market Group at the edge of Wynwood. “I feel like I’m a guy who has a job that’s unusual.”

Since its inception in 2009, LIV on Sunday has transformed from just a hip-hop party into an institution. It has developed the type of cultural currency that entrepreneurs dream of – namedrops from some of the best MCs from Drake to Lil Wayne to Meek Mill – while remaining authentic to its audience by always playing the hottest songs in hip-hop. Come to LIV on Sunday and see what it’s like to live like a superstar – if only for one night. Gardner, who has been promoting parties in Miami for nearly two decades, has been its driving force.

“LIV on Sunday will give you that experience that you will never get anywhere else in the world,” rapper Trick Daddy said. “If you haven’t been to LIV on Sunday, you ain’t been to a real nightclub. You don’t know what a nightclub is.”

As Trick Daddy said , LIV on Sunday set the standard for parties. Its contributions to the globalization of hip-hop cannot be overlooked as people from all over the world have flocked to the Fontainebleau hotel for some Sunday night revelry.

“I’ve had opportunities to do a LIV on Sunday in Dubai, in Paris, London, Germany,” Gardner said. “We’ve even had one guy wanting me to do a LIV on Sunday in Tokyo and Nigeria.”

Just like how the back-to-school jam at 1520 Sedgwick Avenue in the Bronx launched a cultural revolution on August 11, 1973 – the date acknowledged as hip-hop’s birthday – LIV on Sunday has become a cultural staple in Miami and beyond.

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“People just don’t see it as a nightclub party: they also see it as a marketing, media platform,” said David Grutman, one of Miami’s biggest hospitality entrepreneurs, who founded clubs LIV and Story. “A lot of artists will launch their album or their single or hit us up just to have that credibility and perform at LIV in front of that crowd. I think because it has that iconic feel to it at this point, it’s a legacy now.”

Baller to barber

Gardner arrived at the University of Miami in the fall of 1991. A star point guard out of Virginia, Gardner wanted to be like Mike. He started 52 games for the Hurricanes during his freshman and sophomore years, but after missing curfew during an away game, he was expelled from the team.

Undeterred, Gardner then went to DePaul where he graduated with a marketing degree. Still, Gardner wanted to get to the NBA. So he came back to Miami, where he worked out with Heat and Hurricane players while helping out at his cousin’s Headliner barbershop, the name he would later use for his businesses. Money was hard to come by. Gardner slept at the barbershop for about eight months, an experience he later called his “lowest point.”

“Even a lot of the barbers didn’t even know,” Gardner recalled. “They were just like ‘Oh you be getting here early. You working hard!’”

After hanging up his jersey, Gardner decided to pivot to party planning on the advice of his cousin. His first party, a Players Ball in 1999, flopped.

“I’m $60-70,000 into this party and I didn’t even know where I’m going to get the money,” Gardner said, having financed the party with a loan from a friend who played for the Dolphins.

Despite losing all the money, Gardner discovered that he enjoyed party planning. For his next party, Gardner sought the help of local stars like the Heat’s Tim Hardaway and Alonzo Mourning to host. The party was moderately successful but, more than that, it gave him an introduction to well-known party promoter Louis Oliver, who had thrown a party the same night.

“Relationships are so important in this game,” Gardner said, recalling that Oliver later told him that he wanted “to destroy his party.” “What makes me hold on to them and value those relationships is because I know we’re in an industry where we need people.”

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‘Hip hop wasn’t really accepted yet’

Miami Beach is an odd choice for hip-hop’s vacation home. The former sundown town’s history of discriminating against Black performers and their audiences is well documented.

“We weren’t allowed there as Black people,” Gardner said, referring to the years when Black visitors could not rent hotel rooms on the beach. Miami Beach even required Black visitors to carry an identification card or risk arrest until 1964.

By the time that the Miami Dolphins drafted Louis Oliver in 1989, not much had changed.

“There were no Black people on the beach,” recalled Oliver. “There were no Black clubs on the beach. There were no Black promoters on the beach. Black people really didn’t go to the beach en masse.”

Oliver credited Peter Thomas, now known from “The Real Housewives of Atlanta,” and Luther “Luke” Campbell with later creating venues that catered to Black audiences in the ‘90s. By the 2000s, their clubs had disappeared. The hostility towards Black visitors, however, hadn’t, according to Gardner.

“There wasn’t really an openness to the Black demographic, especially hip-hop,” Gardner said of Miami Beach. “Because hip-hop equates to Black people and there’s a stigma that too many Black people bring problems.”

“Hip-hop wasn’t really accepted yet, especially on South Beach,” Gardner added.

But Gardner saw an opportunity in a partnership with Oliver, who had already established himself as South Beach’s Black party czar. They would later team up to host another Sunday night party with a soul food theme at since-shuttered Miami Beach institution, The Forge. In 2005, however, he almost lost it all.

“I had a heart attack,” Gardner said. “I was going so hard, pushing these parties, eating junk food and not getting enough rest.”

As Gardner laid in the emergency room for nine days, he had a decision to make. There, Gardner said, he found God which led him to confront whether or not he should abandon the nightlife business altogether.

“’Am I wrong?’” Gardner recalled asking his uncle, who’s a pastor. “He gave me the OK that it’s all right if I don’t indulge in those activities because it’s through God’s blessing that I’m here and it’s through God’s blessing that he allowed me to continue doing what I’m doing.

‘Synonymous with hip-hop’

His hoop dreams are a thing of the past, but Gardner still operates like a former athlete.

“Mike has a very sports-like approach to parties, like coaching,” said Rahsaan “Fly Guy” Alexander, a friend and Miami-based DJ who co-founded the Doo-Wop …that R&B thang party with Gardner. “I think that that helps set a certain standard of event execution. Everything from the most minute detail to the largest thing you can think of. So when you hear the name Headliner, you think it’s going to be A-List. It’s going to be quality.”

It was the quality that first caught Grutman’s attention in the late 2000s. LIV had not even been open a year and he had heard about the party that Gardner and Oliver were doing at The Forge. Unlike many clubs at the time, LIV wanted to have a dedicated night for hip-hop from the beginning.

“We really thought that hip-hop really had a place at LIV and that it would be iconic and long-lasting,” Grutman said. “And if we were going to partner with somebody, we knew Mike Gardner and Louis Oliver were the ones.”

With the Forge closed, Gardner and Oliver eventually brought their secret sauce to LIV and haven’t looked back since. The obstacles overcome in the process – from underestimating of the appeal of hip-hop to the hostility towards Black visitors – seem like distant memories considering the globalization of hip-hop.

“You can’t stop the culture of hip-hop,” Oliver said. “Hip-hop moves everything. It not only moves music, it moves fashion, it moves sports, it moves entertainment.”

“The music has broken down doors but it still has more doors to break down,” he continued. “It’s not done yet.”

LIV on Sunday is part of the culture of hip-hop now, said Gardner. It’s “synonymous with hip-hop.”

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LIV on Sunday

When: 11 p.m. Sundays

Where: LIV at the Fontainebleau Miami Beach, 4441 Collins Ave., Miami Beach