ST. LOUIS • The occasional low-rider cruised this brick-paved stretch of Washington Avenue early Friday morning, unfettered by heavy traffic. Nightclubbers wandered from joint to joint, in packs of twos and threes.

But by 2 a.m., downtown's entertainment strip should have been bumper-to-bumper. The sidewalks should have been stuffed, not sprinkled, with slinky dresses, 3-inch pumps and wide-collar button-down shirts, untucked.

And lines outside the nightclubs should have been constantly spilling out of their ropes, instead of filling and emptying like the drinks inside.

The city of St. Louis began cracking down on three downtown nightclubs last week, threatening to pull their liquor licenses if they don't get a handle on rowdy crowds and street violence.

Thursday, the bars were feeling the effects. Workers and owners at some said business was down 50 percent.

Jens Petermann, 20, a valet for the Lucas Park Grille, could see the difference. He could quickly park cars this Thursday. Normally, it would take him 20 minutes to drive a single block. "Literally, it would be gridlocked right now," Petermann said.

And that is as good an illustration as any of the city's delicate work balancing downtown clubs and residents.

Washington Avenue is the centerpiece of downtown's nightlife. It is one of few reliably busy blocks in the city's central business district, other than the bars around Busch Stadium after a Cardinals game. With City Hall's encouragement, restaurants, shops and clubs have filled nearly every vacant building in the stretch closest to Tucker Boulevard. And residents, despite the economy, keep moving into the lofts above.

"What many residents find exciting about Washington Avenue is the variety of activity," said Barbara Geisman, the city's executive director for development, who lives on the street. "Washington Avenue will never be the quiet peaceful place that Ladue and St. Louis Hills are, but, then again, I don't think we want it to be like that."

Downtown's population has surged by more than 4,000 to about 12,500 over the last decade, according to the Partnership for Downtown St. Louis.

But the dueling success of the strip has also created a new point of friction between residents and club owners, which surfaced loudly, and publicly, last week.

Early Monday morning, two teens and a young man were shot about two blocks from the Sugar Lounge, a popular Washington Avenue club. Witnesses said they were arguing over a girl, according to police records. Police arrested a 22-year-old later that day.

That shooting followed two others - one, early on a Friday morning in June, about two blocks from Lure Nightclub on Washington Avenue, and another in December, about two blocks from Jim Edmonds' 15 steakhouse and club on Locust Street.

The management of Lure said the shooting had nothing to do with their club.

"We don't want people to think we're not concerned with the violence because we are," said manager Rob Olsen. "We just haven't been a part of the violence."

Moreover, Lure's owners said, it seemed the city was targeting the club because of its hip-hop Thursday nights, marketed to blacks - a charge the city's mayor called a red herring.

On the other hand, Mark Winfield, co-owner of Club 15 with former Cardinals outfielder Edmonds, sees no malice in the city's actions. He said he knew that the people involved in the December shooting may have been in his club beforehand. But he's since eliminated the Sunday night events he believes brought in bad seeds and has begun working hard with the city to address the problems.

"I don't think the city is out to shut anyone down," Winfield said. "They don't want to lose taxpayers."

The owners of Sugar did not return calls seeking comment.

Still, the city government lists a litany of documented complaints about the clubs - from street fights to underage drinking to broken beer bottles and fire exits without alarms - and it is planning to send out letters early this week calling all three clubs to hearings concerning their liquor licenses.

Loft-dwellers, meanwhile, are gathering signatures to get at least one of the clubs, Lure, closed down.

Jennifer Asher, who lives above Lure, said she has spent more than a year fighting the club's owners. She said drunk clubbers have threatened her, attacked other residents and left the remnants of bloody fights in the condo association's lobby.

"I came home and there were pools of blood on the walls, on furniture," she said of one night last year.

"This is not about hip-hop night for us," she said. "This is about every night."

Despite all that, city leaders see this friction, for the most part, as the natural pain of a downtown that is growing up, as downtowns are in cities across the country.

Indeed, leaders from Baltimore to Birmingham, Ala., to Reno, Nev., to Los Angeles have been fighting to keep streets calm in popular bar districts over this past year. Just this past week, the president of the Cleveland NAACP requested a meeting with the city's mayor to discuss the issue, as well as what he worried was the targeting of young black clubgoers.

"Downtown matters," said James Brooks, a director with the Washington-based National League of Cities. "Everybody is working on it. Downtown is the center of the local economic region."

The bind, experts and leaders agree, is that cities can neither tolerate violence at downtown establishments, nor can they close clubs without clear, overwhelming evidence.

"When a place becomes popular, everyone wants to be there," said Jeff Rainford, the mayor's chief of staff. "If we had these troubles 10 years ago, it's probable nobody would have noticed. However, having said that, it's our job and we are taking it very seriously, to keep the place safe for everyone."

On this past Thursday night, owners were worried about their immediate future.

It's not as though downtown was empty. Hundreds came to dance and drink. At times, several cars were waiting at the light to turn on Tucker Boulevard. At times, some clubs even looked full.

Still, owners and workers uniformly reported far fewer patrons than normal.

Winfield, from Club 15, said he had just 14 restaurant tables reserved for Friday night, when he typically would have 75 to 100.

And Olsen, from Lure, said just a handful of the club's 14 private tables had been booked. He said the club got 500 calls Thursday asking if they were open and serving liquor.

Closing clubs won't get rid of violence, Olsen said. And it certainly will gut Washington Avenue.

Downtown living, he said, is about hustle and bustle. The clubs are a big part of that.

And, to that, nearly everyone - at least those on the streets - agreed Thursday night.

"I really like this place," said Michelle Longo, 20, as she headed into 15. "That's why we come every Thursday."