Jet Set, an aging disco just a block from the sea in Santo Domingo, was the place to be on Monday nights.

And this Monday was no exception.

A collection of the country’s bold face names — from bankers to retired Major League Baseball players to politicians — were eager to kick up their heels and party, even on a school night, to see a concert by Rubby Pérez, who is known as the “loudest voice in merengue.”

Hundreds of people paid $32 for tickets to see the renowned Dominican entertainer who had recently celebrated his 69th birthday.

Live music Mondays at the Jet Set were something of a tradition in the Dominican capital, where a penchant for enjoying life and good music helped the night club thrive with locals and tourists alike.

“Jet Set was a symbol,” said José Antonio Rodríguez, a singer and former Dominican minister of culture. “You have to understand: The Dominican is a partyer. They like to get together with friends — and Jet Set was a place for that.”

That decades-old Monday night ritual ended in catastrophe this week, when the building’s roof came crashing down in the middle of Mr. Pérez’s performance. Videos show him singing and dancing while people wondered aloud what was falling from the ceiling. Then a thunderous boom brought the show to a calamitous halt.

The tragedy has claimed at least 184 lives so far, including Mr. Pérez’s, devastating a nation better known for sandy beaches and fast dance moves. The disco turned mass graveyard is now being called “Ground Zero.”

The victims included the owner of one of the country’s most prestigious banks, his wife and sister, whose recent wedding made the cover of a local lifestyle magazine. The groom, who also died, was the son of the nation’s minister of public works.

Nelsy Cruz, the governor of the province of Monte Cristi, was among the first confirmed dead, and two former Major League Baseball players, Octavio Dotel and Tony Blanco, were also killed. Pedro Martínez, a Hall of Fame pitcher, said in a social media post that several of his family members were still in the club’s rubble.

Now Dominicans are lining up to donate blood, as hundreds of rescue workers in yellow hard hats and fluorescent jackets sift through the rubble to find survivors or bodies. Teams from Puerto Rico and Mexico arrived to help.

The authorities have not said how many people were at the concert, but said they are “triangulating” the number of tickets sold with the number of people in the hospitals and at the morgue to figure out how many people might still be trapped in the rubble.

After more than 150 rescues, no one has been brought out alive since Tuesday afternoon.

Carlos Santos, a television and radio producer in Santo Domingo, called the disaster the biggest blow in the history of the Dominican Republic’s entertainment industry.

“With Jet Set they bury the capital’s tradition of musical group performances,” Mr. Santos said. “At the moment, there is no club that has the history, the trajectory or the time that Jet Set had.”

Jet Set opened in the 1970s at a different location and moved some years ago to a former movie theater a block from the malecón, the sea wall. It could seat up to 700 people — a capacity that rose to 1,000 if tables were removed.

It was known as an upscale hangout for the city’s elite business and political class, where top artists performed.

“It was iconic,” recalled Rosa Rabin, a South Florida singer who used to perform there. “There was no group that didn’t go there.”

But she will especially miss Mr. Pérez, whom she described as a charismatic entertainer with no ego.

“He was a very important figure in our music and our culture,” Ms. Rabin said. “He was part of our culture.”

Mr. Pérez started his career as a lead vocalist for the famed merengue band leader, Wilfrido Vargas, and had recently begun singing Christian music, Mr. Santos said.

In the videos Mr. Santos saw, he said his friend appeared more cheerful than usual Monday night.

“He looked more lively, more enthusiastic and with more joy,” Mr. Santos said. “He was even dancing in a way that he normally wouldn’t. His face looked really pleasant, happy.”

He was the only act performing Monday at Jet Set, which was owned by a prominent family in the entertainment industry in Santo Domingo. Through a representative, the owners declined to answer questions.

“To you, mothers, fathers, siblings, children and loved ones of those affected: You can count on us,” the owner, Antonio Espaillat, said in a slickly produced video posted on social media. “Everything we do now, every decision, every step, has one purpose: to live up to your pain and be with you.”

The people who live near the nightclub said they had been battling the owners over noise complaints and smoke from the club’s generators for years, but said they had found the family’s political influence and connections too difficult to beat.

But following the deadly roof collapse, politicians and reporters are interested in their problems, said Ysabel García, a neighbor who said the music and the generators that were used to power the club kept the neighborhood up all night.

“When we were knocking on doors for them to come to a protest we held against them, they said: ‘Jet Set? Untouchable,’” Ms. García said.

The noise even shook furniture in their homes, she said. Neighbors tried filing complaints with authorities, but saw few results.

She and other neighbors said large air conditioning condensers had been placed on the roof after recent renovations, making the situation more dangerous.

“The lights reached the beds and the vibration reached the windows,” said Lourdes Artiles, who lived behind the club.

“The only night we rested was Tuesdays,” when the club was closed, she added.

The authorities said it was too early to determine the cause of the disaster.

“I think Jet Set is history,” Mr. Rodríguez, the former culture minister, said. “It’s too much pain. I don’t think it can be recovered.”

Hogla Enecia Pérez contributed reporting from Santo Domingo, the Dominican Republic