Meet Bryant Webster, master bouncer

Downtown Minneapolis is in typical Friday night form. Dolled-up women and the men trying to impress them step out of expensive cars outside the popular Seven nightspot and restaurant. They wade through heavy foot traffic to assume their place in line. But before their party starts, they have to get through Bryant Webster.

Granted, 99 percent of the time that's something to look forward to. The doorman in the black suit takes a break from checking IDs and discreetly sizing up people in line to embrace a departing patron and crack jokes with another. But don't think he takes his job lightly.

"My No. 1 thing is to ensure a fun and safe environment," Webster explains later in an interview.

Webster is a weekend fixture on the bustling corner of 7th Street and Hennepin Avenue in front of the swanky steak-and-sushi lounge. With a trim mustache that Tom Selleck would applaud, the security veteran has become one of the more familiar faces in downtown nightlife over the past decade. Dispelling stereotypes of mean-mugging "bouncers," the gregarious courier-by-day seemingly knows everyone passing through his sidewalk turf. He is one of the best in the biz.

"Customer service, to me, it's not a department. It's an attitude," Webster said in his distinctive baritone. "With me being the first person you see, the last person you see, my customer service has to be a point for me to enjoy what I'm doing."

That instinct dates back to his days as a limo driver and suit salesman. While keeping order at the upscale three-level bar and restaurant's front lines, Webster also plays facilitator — gauging guests' wants and needs, and trying to answer questions before they're asked.

"It's kind of like match-making suits with a tie," the Missouri native said. "You've got the guy's hair, skin tone down. You know he's got earth-tone suit colors, he needs this kind of shirt. Same thing in the hospitality business. You have to find out what makes them happy to be here."

Of course, club security is hardly roses and Champagne. Webster is the bad-news bearer when someone is too intoxicated or not compliant with the nightspot's business-casual dress code.

His secret weapon? "Principal mode" — when that Isaac Hayes-deep voice, which scores him occasional voiceover work, goes from jovial to stern when someone's out of line.

"My voice helps me at the door. It's like how I deal with my kids — 'What did I tell you?' " he says, dropping an octave and raising his left eyebrow. "If you get past my voice, you're a bad man."

From his Hennepin Avenue station, the party-time peacekeeper has a front-row seat to downtown's late-night circus.

"I witness a lot of stuff out here," he said, turning reticent when pressed for the crazier specifics.

"You get your irate [people] sometimes, but we deal with that," Webster said. "It's all about how you talk to people."