A CITY IN CRISIS : ‘It’s a Ghost Town’ : Curfew: Saturday night in the city is decidedly low-key. But a bold few try to have fun.

Alfredo Gutierrez, mariachi for hire, stood outside the most popular Mexican restaurant in Boyle Heights. His white shirt was pressed, his black pants tight, his violin polished and in hand. Alas, the place was shuttered and closed.

“I know we’re not going to get hired, but I will stand here anyway,” the minstrel said, forlorn because the usual weekend crowds had disappeared in observation of the city’s new riot-imposed curfew. Someone, somewhere, he hoped, might still pay $3 to hear his rendition of “Volver, Volver.”

“God will provide,” he said.

Ordinarily, Saturday night is a big night for this big city. But last night was no ordinary Saturday night. On the bijou lights of Los Angeles and its surrounding metropolis, dusk fell like a big wet blanket.

No party at the Forum. No disco at the Roxy. No foolin’ around on Melrose Avenue.

“It’s a ghost town. A complete ghost town,” said James Watkins, 25, a bouncer at Q’s pool hall in Pasadena’s trendy Old Town area, where merchants had agreed to close by 10 p.m.

Business was down anyway, they reported, and the usual pedestrian crowds were virtually outnumbered by police.

“We counted six cop cars pass in five minutes,” reported Watkins’ fellow bouncer, Evan Liss. “No, wait! Make that seven . . . no, eight,” he reported as two squad cars cruised slowly by.

In Westwood Village, the theaters and restaurants were closed and dark, and yellow police tape and flares blocked the usually-teeming thoroughfares.

“There’s not supposed to be anything going on here,” snapped National Guardsman Norman Johnson, 29, who was sent down from Modesto with the 184th Mechanized Division.

But Stratton’s Grill on Broxton Avenue was resolutely open, nonetheless.

“I always believe that in times of crisis, things should go on as usual,” said Mike Amamiam, the 27-year-old co-owner.

At least one rave dance party was scheduled to go on Saturday night despite the curfew. Organizers taped a phone message telling callers that the underground happening titled “Psychosis” would be held “at an all new relocated location outside the havoc and riot-zone areas. It will be in no violation of curfew hours whatsoever.”

Other party-goers opted to attend private affairs. “Basically, everyone’s just gathering at friends’ houses and going to all-night end-of-the-world parties,” said Greg Caplowitz, an intern at Santa Monica’s MARS-FM (103.1) radio station.

Richard M. Klotz said he found himself at a private “curfew party” Friday night that was attended by about 100 and that featured deejay-spun music and liquor.

“Everybody was inside; it was like you were in a bomb shelter or something,” Klotz said. “But it was cool.”

But Saturday night on Melrose Avenue, not a store, restaurant or club was open. There was no neon, and nary a punk hairdo in sight. As night fell, the sidewalks were deserted but for two men, Hasidic Jews in long black coats heading home from synagogue.

In the Fairfax district, it was going to take more than the force of law to separate Ron Kantrell’s family from their Saturday night takeout from Canter’s Deli, which was open and packed.

“I broke the curfew for a pastrami sandwich,” said Kantrell, as he strolled away from the jammed takeout counter with three corned beef sandwiches, three pastrami sandwiches, two salami sandwiches, an order of whitefish and six Danish pastries.

“We’re all so sick and tired of staying home and eating Domino’s pizza, we all had a craving for some good deli,” he said.

Bernard Collins, too, was at Canter’s, despite his stated preference for black-owned businesses.

“Unfortunately,” the Black Muslim said sadly, waiting in line in a Malcolm X baseball cap, “no black-owned store is opened tonight that I know of.”

“Besides,” he added, regaining some humor, “my wife and me felt like some bagels.”

At the Red Onion Restaurant in Marina del Rey, about 100 people dined and drank before a placid view of the water.

Business was down 50%, manager Rene A. Cardenas said. Those who did come “have a little bit of a rebellious nature,” he said.

Customers agreed.

“We stayed home last night and watched movies so we decided to go out tonight,” said Sheila Mattimoe, who celebrated her 27th birthday at the Red Onion.

“It’s been a very tense week,” added friend Debbie Johnson, 35, of Agoura Hills. “We have to release the stress.”

At the Bicycle Club in Bell Gardens, business was off by 10%, but the smoke was thick and the tables were crowded. Because the city passed no curfew, customers could move freely after dark.

“The only curfew they’ve got here is money,” said Johnny Grisby, a 41-year-old gambler from Downey.

But the normally busy shops on Ventura Boulevard in the San Fernando Valley had almost all shut down by sunset.

A few bold shop owners and restaurant managers decided to break the rules and stay open--and customers were appreciative.

“It’s kind of mellowing out now,” forecast Raymond Magana, a 17-year-old customer at the Psychic Eye bookstore in Van Nuys, adding that his psychic powers told him the rioting had peaked.

And just outside Beverly Hills, love triumphed over the desolation of the past week, as the wedding of Eric Toeg and Kimberly Jacobs went off as planned at the Four Seasons Hotel.

Rabbi Harvey Fields of Wilshire Boulevard Temple said the couple had considered postponing the nuptials, but he and their friends persuaded them that the wedding should go on.

“In the midst of a city that is shattered, that had three days of riots and bloodshed, a wedding is a wonderful way to come together,” the rabbi told the couple and their families.

“I felt the whole symbol--the celebration of a new beginning--was very important,” Fields said. “A lot of people needed that, at this point.”

Times staff writers Vicki Torres, David Ferrell, Hugo Martin, Dennis Romero, Greg Braxton, Tina Daunt, Scott Harris, Laurie Ochoa and Amy Kazmin contributed to this story.