A Small City That Lost Big in the Dominican Nightclub Tragedy

Half the board of directors of a seniors club perished, as did the president of the Lion’s Club, a high school teacher and the owner of a trucking company. Tony Blanco, a retired major league baseball player who died in the disaster, was a native son.

So was Rubby Pérez, the merengue singer whose concert drew more than 400 people — many from his hometown.

In the wake of a nightclub roof collapse that killed hundreds of people, the Dominican Republic is brimming in grief. That heartbreak is perhaps most palpable in Haina, an industrial city outside the capital that lost more than two dozen people in the tragedy, including community leaders and cultural heroes.

A gritty municipality best known for its bustling seaport and a legacy of lead pollution that once gave it the unwelcome moniker “the Dominican Chernobyl” now has another undesirable distinction. When the roof of the Jet Set disco came crashing down last Tuesday morning, killing 226 people, it dealt a heavy blow to the small city.

Twenty-five people from there were among those who died.

“God has a way of communicating with us, and sometimes it is difficult to understand,” the former Red Sox player David Ortiz, better known as Big Papi, said Sunday. Mr. Ortiz used to live in Haina, and traveled there to help bury its dead.

Joined by the president, Luis Abinader, dozens of residents gathered in a sweltering gym to say goodbye. They clutched white roses and tried through tears to understand how a single town could lose so many people. Some wondered aloud how they would ever manage to laugh and sing again.

A photo slide show of the victims flashed on two large screens while an evangelical pastor and a Catholic priest offered consoling words.

The singer Joselito Trinidad performed stirring ballad renditions of “Looking For Your Kisses” and “I Will Return,” two of Mr. Pérez’s merengue songs. He sang in the high pitch that Mr. Pérez, known as the “highest voice in merengue,” was famous for.

“We are a people who have known how to unite through thick and thin, and this is no exception,” he said before singing. “As a native Hainero, I raise my voice so that we remember that voice that took wings and went to a better place.”

In the gym, many bleacher seats remained empty: People around town were busy attending funerals.

When the service ended, one woman ran after the president’s entourage sobbing and demanding accountability.

“Oh, my beautiful friend, there’s no one like her anymore!” cried Kirsis Bautista, whose friend, Juana Vásquez, died in the disaster. “Mr. President, justice! Let me see Luis Abinader and say: ‘justice!’”

Mr. Pérez, 69, was a well-known merengue artist and a member of the Golden Haineros, a private social club for people over 55 to gather and attend educational workshops. The club’s 143 members were also his fans, so 25 of them made the half-hour trip to Santo Domingo to watch him perform at Jet Set.

Only 12 made it out.

The organization’s vice president died, as did the treasurer and event planner.

“The first thing I said when I heard about what happened was that I was going to quit,” said Hectór Rincón, the club’s president. “People told me, ‘no, we have to find the strength to keep this going in honor of those who died.’”

The seniors rent a space above a nightclub called the House of the Drunk, where they play dominoes and throw birthday parties, adhering to strict rules: no talk of politics, religion or sports.

On Sunday morning before the service, the club was still decorated in balloons and birthday banners from the last celebration, but a large black ribbon on the front door gave away that something terrible had happened. The mood was grim among a handful of members, gathered before yet another funeral.

Now instead of organizing jewelry-making workshops, Mr. Rincón is looking for psychologists to help survivors. “This is like a war,” he said. “When you come back from war, you are not the same.”

Mr. Rincón grew up with Mr. Pérez, and they sang in a choir together as teenagers.

“Haina was his everything,” Mr. Rincón said.

He tried to share more fond memories of his friend. Tears got in the way, so he talked instead about the town’s industrial history.

Haina’s official name, which nobody uses, is Bajos de Haina, or the Haina Lowlands. Home to about 158,000 people, it is about eight miles west of Santo Domingo.

The country’s only oil refinery is here, and its port moves more than a third of the country’s maritime cargo.

Mr. Rincón recalled its heyday, when a sugar mill and other factories churned out engineers, mechanics and workers in other skilled trades. Those businesses are gone now.

“This was a town of migrants — mostly miners and agricultural workers,” said Jesús Ramírez, a member of the Lions Club, which lost three members. “And it turned out some of the country’s best sports players and artists.”

The Lion’s Club will particularly miss its president, Luis Emilio Guillén, who was also vice president of the seniors’ club. A former soccer player who owned a trophy company, he was known for attending every cultural and sports event.

“We are going to continue the work he was doing in sports and culture,” said Margarita Tejeda, who represents Haina in Congress and is a Lion’s Club member. “This is a collective pain. Everyone is in a lot of pain.”

Hogla Enecia Pérez contributed reporting from Haina.