Another world-famous DJ has rendered 3,000 people in the dance club spent, unable to shake it for one more tune. Most of the city is wolfing down coffee to kick start their day, but these folks—New Yorkers and visitors from around the world—grudgingly admit they’ve got to go lie down, or go home to shower and shuffle off to work.

Four hours later, the four-and-a-half story, 30,000-square-foot building a block from the Hudson River hums quietly, like a factory between shifts. The silence is deafening. The open doors allow in a breeze and slivers of light, while the cleaning crews attend to every corner, stairwell, and out-of-the-way lounge. But a buzz persists in the ears of the crowd trying to catch a nap (that’s what 100,000 watts can do to you). That happens when everyone from Forbes to the club-industry bible, Club World, names you the hottest nightclub and 2007 Best Superclub, Best New Club and Best Sound System, respectively.

Eddie Dean, who co-owns the nearly two-year-old club with world-renowned club DJ Erick Morillo, is behind closed doors in his office, working the phones, the BlackBerry, checking with members of the 100-person staff. There are a couple of pressing matters: He’s got to help Japan’s top DJ get his club owner VIP treatment at Pacha’s flagship location in Ibiza, Spain. He’s also got to tell a group in Miami that they aren’t ready to be granted a Pacha.

Pacha's "shower rooms" are strictly for people hired to perform

Surely, a man who’s owned bars and dance clubs all over the city dresses the part. Eurosleek suits, designer dress-down duds?  Forget it. The barrel-chested Dean shuffles hurriedly out of the office in a gray T-shirt, worn-to-a-sheen khaki shorts, and flip-flops. It’s not a no-sleep concession to dealing with a civilian who works during the day; it’s just the comfortable look of the guy who feels like a boyhood pal.

“Actually, I am the kid who’d sell firecrackers to other kids around the corner from school,” Dean says. “When I was in college, at the University of Delaware, I saw all these fraternity boys who loved going to Atlantic City, so I started working with the bus operator and organized trips to and from campus. We’d stock the buses with drinks, the guys would have a great time. I’d pay the operator for making runs when the buses would have been just sitting in the garage and I made some money for myself too.”

And now he finds ways for 3,000 people each night to have a great time, too. Celebrities, VIPs, tourists from Iowa or Moscow, Dean takes care of them with the same attention to detail and experience.

“Y’know, these guys in Miami,” he says. “They wanted me to hear their pitch for why they should get the Miami Pacha. They fly me down, gimme a limo, they let me experience their club. First of all, I try to get out of the car and the driver says, ‘Let me get the door for you, Mr. Dean.’ I don’t know how to handle that. It’s just the Jersey in me. I identify more with the driver than the guys who flew me down there.

“So I go to their place and it’s not near South Beach. I eat a steak that’s fine, but nothing’s working together. It’s not a club. And they want to know, ‘What’s it gonna take to build?’ And I am trying to be nice, but I am extremely protective of the brand. You know, the translation for Pacha is ‘live like a king’ and there are 25 places around the world that get it. This isn’t like putting in an Applebee’s or something, this is a big deal in the club world. And if you don’t get it right for the club people, they won’t come back.”

The juxtaposition of a burly, tell-it-like-it-is Jersey guy getting into the esoteric minutiae of the midnight-to-8 a.m. club crowd isn’t lost on Dean.

“My dad died when I was a junior in college,” Dean says. “He was a big trial attorney and he died suddenly. I had to figure out how to make sure my mom was taken care of.”

Dean started selling real estate in Brooklyn. “I was doing well,” he says, "and I got back and finished school." Then a friend told him about a small pub that was for sale. “I had no idea what I was doing,” he says. “I mean, I was no stranger to bars and I had a good sense of how business gets done in them. My buddy was an ex-cop, so we got it up and running. It was a great experience. I could be owner, bartender, fry cook, busboy, bouncer.

“From there, in 1987 we opened a club in Brooklyn called Faces. We started booking acts that hadn’t come to Brooklyn before. We were pissing off wiseguys, Manhattan club owners, you name it. But we had a blast.”

The night Faces opened, he met a woman named Kim. They’ve been married more than twelve years, and have three children, Raeanne, Jillian, and Thomas.

“Things were great before I met Kim,” Dean says, “But nothing could compare to what my life has been like since we got together."

Despite the glamour of owning a club, Dean's home life is not  much different from his suburban neighbors. "He has not changed a bit," Kim says. "He is still incredibly humble." Dean's schedule does have an impact on the family, however, Kim says, "His hours are long but not much worse than many other people. This may sound corny, but there really isn't a whole lot of bad."

Twelve years after opening Faces (and two other Brooklyn hot spots, Ruby’s and Rock ’n Jocks), Dean hit Manhattan, opening the Flatiron District’s Hush. Two years later, he opened Tiki Room and got top marks from Travel & Leisure and Citysearch, and reinvented Hush as discotheque, which featured hot DJs such as Junior Vasquez, and eventually, Erick Morillo.

Morillo had earned a reputation as Pacha/Ibiza’s most popular DJ, working there for 9 years and building great followings. “The relationship he has with clubs, and dance-music fanatics around the world is amazing and his work as a producer is impeccable,” Dean says. “That’s what is so funny about our success here in New York, and with the dance scene all over the U.S. Sure, there are hot clubs that will bring in DJs, but people don’t really know what dance music and clubs represent. It’s truly a lifestyle thing. It’s not violent; it’s just people who want to dance and be free. Pacha has its own monthly magazine, printed out of Spain. They print 350,000 copies! We run 40,000 through here alone.”

In the fourth-floor DJ booth, empty bottles of Poland Spring water and SoBe Adrenaline Rush prove that even the men and women who keep the party going need a little jolt, too.

It’s the yin and yang of Pacha, the four-and a-half-level, 30,000-square-foot dance mecca named by a who’s who list of music and club insiders as the best club in North America. The action is so taut, the sound so perfect, that it feels a little like you’re trespassing when inside its walls. The structure, the site of the old Sound Factory nightclub, was gutted when Dean and Morillo had a vision of building a maze of cozy rooms for different attitude adjustments and a massive dance floor for patrons who don’t want to stop moving from midnight to 8 a.m.

Dean remains committed to finding new ways to promote the Pacha mission. While cryptic about many eventualities, he’s got a big fall ahead of him. He’ll be pitching his vision for North American (and even some other far-flung world destinations) for Pacha brand extensions. He’s been talking to fellow Jersey guy Scott Greenstein, CEO of Sirius Radio, about getting a just-dance-music channel.

“We’ll be making plenty more news very shortly,” Dean says, but it’s important to say that it changes nothing about what our mission here is. It still boils down to Bar 101 mechanics: You give people great service, you make them feel safe and happy, you talk to them and find out what they want. We have weekly meetings with our staff to always try new ideas. For example, we have a full-time IT guy who helps us get the message out to our database of patrons. We give them updates, music downloads, and information about what’s going on here and in the industry. People come from all over the world to see our DJs perform. The least we can do is make them feel like we’re paying attention to them.

“I am a real pain in the ass about the front-of-door people. If we’re too crowded and can’t let anyone in and people are willing to stand in line to pay money to get into Pacha, that’s the ultimate compliment to me,” Dean says. “I mean, really, this is New York. You could go a million other places. They won’t give you what we will, but you could leave here and go there just so you won’t have to stand in line. So I want our bouncers, servers, dancers, and of course, DJs, to give everyone the best experience possible. I want everyone to feel like a big shot.”

Pacha gets its share of big shots, and Dean says the club doesn’t seem to attract the celebrities who are famous for somehow being famous. “You know, half the time, I don’t know that the athletes and actors have been here until after they’ve left, but when they’re here, I will always try to make sure I say hello and see that their needs are met. We do make certain concessions, with private access to the club and things like that, but we do that for people who pay for the premiere services we offer, too.”

“Tell you the truth,” Dean says. “I know that my kids think it’s kind of cool to have a dad who owns a club, but that ultimately it’s not a big deal. Now, if we were to have Hannah Montana appearing here, they might actually get excited.”

So Dean tries to do the dad thing, making time for vacations and trying to be around when the kids are awake. “Ask Kim if I can leave the job behind when I cross the GWB and she’ll probably say, ‘Not well enough,’ but it’s a fast-moving world in this business. But it works out. River Vale’s great because we’ve got our old neighbors from Brooklyn right across the street, so it’s a good support system. And Kim and I have said from the start that when these kids are old enough, they’ll be doing some part-time work with us. They have to know what hard work feels like.”

Eddie Dean’s got to go. Calls to China, Ibiza, schedules for DJs throughout the end of the year. And a producer is hanging out, ready to continue the dialogue about a reality show that might give people a VIP-lounge view from their own couches. Dean shakes his head at the humor of it all.

“Yeah, I am a real big timer,” he says. “Maybe one of these days, I will wind up buying myself a big luxury item, like a pair of fancy sunglasses.

 “Who am I kidding? No I won’t.”