Jon Peterson (left) and Drew Wiess relax at the bar in Lemmon's.
(David Carson/P-D) |
Tall clubgoers cracked their heads on the exposed ceiling pipes. Short ones saw only the occasional flash of the microphone. Even folks who were just right choked on the sheet of smoke that covered the club like a wool comforter.
Still, to a generation of music lovers, the old Cicero's basement bar in the Delmar Loop served as St. Louis' alternative headquarters. Garage, punk, local, touring, glorious and occasionally god-awful -- Cicero's presented it all to small but passionate crowds of music junkies, local musicians and hard drinkers.
Word that the venue would close in 1997 caused more heartache and handwringing than the split of local uber-band Uncle Tupelo in 1994. Who, patrons wondered, would carry the torch?
No one could see it then, but the seeds for a new generation of music clubs already had been planted in south St. Louis. Today, a triumvirate of South Side clubs have taken root and transformed three shuttered venues into some of the city's hottest nightspots. They are: The Way Out Club on South Jefferson; Frederick's Music Lounge on Chippewa and Lemmons on Gravois.
Though each exudes its own personality, they all obey the rules that served Cicero's in its basement years: Book a variety of styles, nurture local up-and-comers and, most of all, be a clubhouse, not a nightclub.
"We always called the club your home away from home, and that's what we all do," said Sherri Lucas, who owns the Way Out Club with her husband, Bob Putnam. "The idea is to have a real comfortable place where, whether you are a regular or someone who has come in off the street, you can just enjoy really good music."
A decade ago, no one would have imagined that the neighborhood best known for the Bevo Mill and mullets would host some the city's hottest nightspots. But the shift reflects a greater trend of southward migration. Thanks to the ongoing success of the South Grand district and swinging neighborhood joints such as the Famous Bar, on Chippewa, south St. Louis resembles the Delmar Loop before it cleaned itself up - laid back, hip and edgy.
"The South Side is like the music - raw with an edge," Putnam said. "The kind of people who like this music used to live near the Loop, but now a lot of them have moved here, so it's natural that this is happening here. You wouldn't see this happen in any other part of the city."
The folks who run these clubs share more than ZIP codes and passion for the local music scene. They share deep friendships and a long history that dates back to their days working and playing in the Delmar Loop. Those bonds are the reason why three separate busineses have emerged as a genuine scenewhere gritty rock, garage-sale kitsch and cold Stag rule.
How close are they? Start with Putnam and Lucas, the scene's reigning nobility. The couple operated a Loop bookstore and hosted open mic nights at Cicero's and other venues. That's where they met Frederick's Music Lounge owner Fred Friction, Lemmons promoter Sunyatta Marshall, and Friction bandmate and Lemmons designer Mark Stephens. Those friendships survived Cicero's, various bands and assorted relationships.
So when Friction lost his father, he asked Putnam, a minister, to preach at the funeral. And when Marshall and Stephens decided to marry, they asked Putnam and Lucas to lead the ceremony and Friction to serve as best man. Even today, the friends meet for beers at 3 a.m. after their clubs close at 1:30 a.m.
But as regular viewers of "VH1 - Behind the Music" know, rock 'n' roll can shred the closest ties. Can these friends, suddenly competitors, survive the head-to-head nature of the club business? Definitely, they insist. And, besides, they are not competitors but partners in building a better music scene. Marshall says the clubs are like fast-food joints: The more you string together, the more business for everyone.
"Of course, we were worried when we first opened, but we're all doing just fine," Marshall said. "The more places there are to play, the more options there are for the bands and for the people, and the better it is for the entire city."
The Way Out Club
When Putnam and Lucas opened the original Way Out Club at 3159 Cherokee Street in 1995, it was exactly that - way out. The cheap rent lured the couple to the South Side, where they figured patrons could find nearby parking and the neighbors would not mind the noise. The point then, as now, was to showcase St. Louis bands.
"It all goes back to the days when it seemed that St. Louis bands only got to be the opening act for touring shows," Putnam said.
Lucas continued: "But we always knew that with enough attention and nurturing, the musicians here could really grow. We booked bands that never played out before, and gave them a chance. It is amazing to see a band like Earl on their first night where everything goes wrong and then watch them grow to the point where they are just sheer entertainment. It feels good to be part of the progression."
The club also has progressed. Two years ago, it moved to its current, bigger location near Gravois Avenue and Jefferson Boulevard. The spot once hosted the Palms, a country-Western ball-room that could hold up to 400 people.
"When we went to buy this place (from the family that owned the Palms), it was like they were screening us," Lucas said. "They wanted to make sure we were worthy of it."
The couple decided to keep the Palms' landmark sign outside. But inside, the place is all Way Out. The walls are covered with garage-sale art; photographs of regulars, musicians and old friends; and an old Coca-Cola sign introducing new 16-ounce bottles ("enough for three people!").
"We want it to be like the clubs we like to find when we go to other cities," Lucas said "The sort of place people in the know go to."
Despite the bigger space and the club's growing reputation, Putnam and Lucas still run the bar like a mom-and-pop operation. They have no choice.
"With original music, the crowds are always going to be small," said Putnam, who said the couple worked for free for the club's first two years. "There is just not as much money to be made from original music as other types like blues or cover bands. Even today, we have to keep the operation small in order to keep the doors open. That's why you will see us behind the bar almost every night."
"That," Lucas said, "and because we like it."
"And because we like it," Putnam agreed. "It really is an act of love."
Frederick's Music Lounge
The Keith Richards of the South Side, Friction looks like he could use a veggie salad and fistful of Nicorette. But Friction craves that rock 'n' roll lifestyle - the cold Stag, the late nights, and the rush of performing and watching great music. Where else could this man work?
"I wanted a place to buy cigarettes, drink beer and listen to music," he said.
The real reason is a bit more sentimental. Friction runs Frederick's as a tribute to his father, the original Frederick. For 20 years, the speakeasy catered to graying men-about-town. When Friction's father died two years ago, Friction and partner Paul Stark kept the clubby atmosphere but added movie nights and almost nightly entertainment.
"He always believed that if you could get people to come in the place and feel special, then they would be back," said Friction, 44. "I believe that, too."
Friction knows hospitality. As a veteran musician, he also knows talent.
"There is no one type of music," Friction said. "I just want something exciting, something worth talking about."
Some of those bands are from here, but not all. Just as the Way Out helped the Highway Matrons (Friction's band), he wants to help other local acts. But Friction also thinks St. Louis needs to attract more touring acts, the sort of small rockabilly, alternative-country and punk bands that played at Cicero's but now skip through St. Louis.
For instance, last weekend, Frederick's welcomed the Drive-By Truckers, a Southern rock band praised by Rolling Stone critics; and singer Tommy Womack, another critical darling who has a passion for the Replacements and the Kinks. Both bands packed the club.
"Seeing bands like that - they give you more inspiration to do what you're doing," Friction said. "And that makes us all better. The quality of music here has gotten better, but sometimes it's hard to see when it's right in front of you. You know every touring band is a local band from somewhere else."
Lemmons
Not everyone is happy that Lemmons has reopened as a sports bar and music venue.
"Yes, we get people who walk in here still and want fried chicken," said Mike Gross, who owns the bar with Dave Difani. "Needless to say, some of them are a little disappointed to learn our specialty is pizza."
The only thing that has remained the same at Lemmons is the trademark sign. Gross and Difani bought the rights to the sign and the name when they took over in January.
"Lemmons has such a storied history that we wanted to show some respect to that legacy," Gross said. "We didn't feel we could retain it as a chicken palace, but we could keep the sign. Plus, it's really cool."
Gross and Difani, who are married to sisters, have searched for years to find a good spot to expand Difani's business, the Black Thorn Pub. Located a few blocks away from Tower Grove Park, the Black Thorn has long been a favorite hangout for softball players, pizza fans and alternative-music types. Difani considered building a club in the Black Thorn's basement, but the logistics got costly and complicated.
But in Lemmons, they found a bar that would serve all of their patrons - locals who want to shoot darts on the top floor, families and singles who eat pizza in the dining room, and indie music fans who want to hear cutting edge music in the basement.
What exactly is cutting edge? Gross admits he has no idea. As the father of children ages 11 and 16, he knows a little about radio stars such as Nelly. But it's a safe bet that Gross and Friction don't swap records.
"I was never a musician," Gross said. "I have a distinct lack of talent."
But he does have total faith in Marshall, who books and promotes the club; her husband, Stephens, who has modeled the basement after his grandparents' den; and the Black Thorn and Lemmons bartenders, many of whom play in St. Louis' top acts and provide a ready supply of talent.
"I may not know a lot, but anyone can hear how talented a lot of these bands are," Gross said. "We don't expect the basement to be a major revenue source, but our brief experience shows the local music market in growing. If we all keep on doing what we're doing, I don't see why we all won't succeed."
The Way Out Club
2525 South Jefferson Avenue
Frederick's Music Lounge
4454 Chippewa Street
Lemmons
5800 Gravois Avenue
Reporter Diane Toroian:\E-mail: dtoroian@post-dispatch.com\Phone: 314-340-8343
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