PAGE SIX

THE MICHIGAN DA~ILY


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Bands, Bars:

Something for

Everyone

Hre ...

Ann Arbor bars have something of , his bar to the Movers, whose
for everyone. leader moans nasally to the solid
Bimbo's gives away peanuts and accompaniment of developing side-
features Rich Block and the Gas- men.
lighters (yes, Virginia, they really Trouble at potentially explo-
do have a banjo); urban blues sive Clint's (it was almost ex-
can be heard at Clint's Club; clusively a Negro bar before the.
and people dance the pearl and Movers) is held to a minimum by
the skate at the Schawbin Inn. Ernie, who claims to like all kinds
The Town Bar, inheritor of Ann of music, and love-ins could learn
Arbor's rich jazz tradition, fea- from the climate there when the
tures a saxophonist who once play- Movers are playing well.
ed with noted jazz artist Cal Hippies, the real kind, go to
Tjader. Clint's and coexist with gas jock-
The Prime Movers, a local blues eys, occasional interlopers from
band touted by Chicago blues fig- University fraternities, and hard-
ure Paul Butterfield, play four working people who just want to
nights a week at Clint's. tap their feet to music they feel.
Ernie, Clint's head bartender, Once a student sat listening to
attributes the recent popularity the Movers, looking glum. A wizen-

ed old Negro tapped him on the
shoulder and said, "the blues are
supposed to make you happy.
Smile!"
Two taciturn mammoths, a Uni-
versity football player and a Big
Ten wrestler, keep underage drink-
ers out of the Schwabin where
people admittedly "go to dance."

professional boxer Ray screens his
clientele, a graduate of the Uni-
versity in social work claimed Ann
Arbor drinking had become pri-
marily a middle-Class amusement.
Ray is alternately friendly and
angry. His regulars know him well.
They are carryovers from the Fal-
con Bar, now defunct, where Ann

"But eight per cent of the Arbor jazz began, and are holding
Schwabin's drinkers are under- on, hoping for a revival of the
age," one claimed. quality jazz once played by the
Those who clear the door at the Bob James trio.
Schwabin wear madras and usual- James left the Towzn (he had
ly go home tight, previously played at the Falcon)
One girl stared blearily when' for New York City, and knew
asked why she went to that par- music well enough to experiment
ticular bar and finally answered widely with different effects in
that going to the Schwabin wasjaid hderset nverity
"an existential uestion." I ___ajazz and, versee twoUniversit

t

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But her intellectual reserves
failed her when she tried to ex-
plain what she meant, and she got
up to dance, presumably an exis-
tential move.
Underage drinkers are a major
problem at the Pretzel Bell, where
one doorman said girls usually
break out in tears if caught with
false identification.
"Once a girl gave me false iden-
tification and I burned her on it,
and told her I had to check with
the manager. As I turned to go
to the manager, she jumped on
my back and grabbed the ID. The
police booked her," he said.
Scene of P-Bell "21" parties,
Clint Castor's club offers a free
pitcher to anyone who achieves
his majority there, and who can
stand on a table to chug the beer
while the bell tolls.
"One time a fellow that I burned
on false ID came back looking for
me with a couple of his buddies.
I've hidden in the beer cooler half
a dozen times," the doorman
added.
At the Town, where the under-
age drinking question becomes
really no question at all when ex-

musical productions.
Ray has tried rock groups as
well as jazz, and watched all per-
formers come and go with an eye
to business, rather than sound.
Rock groups offend his ears, and
he lumps them all in one category
- "too loud for the people."
Danny Spencer, one-time drum-
mer with a jazz group at the
Town, lamented the deterioration
of interest in jazz here. "People
listen to Aretha Franklin on the
jukebox now," he said.
With the exception of the sax-
ophonist, the jazz at the Town
is to its founders there as Sonny
Stitt is to Charlie Parker. But
the Town, too, has its faithful.
It's impossible to be morose in
Bimbo's pizzeria. The dixieland
band plays for singing along (fre-
quently rendering a stomping
cornball version of "The Victors")
and is unabashedly happy with
its raucous sound.
Bimbo's rounds out the musical
picture in Ann Arbor-Mitch Mil-
ler would visit were he to come
to town.
Beer and liquor undeniably al-
ter the mind, sometimes not as
pleasantly as marijuana, and that
consequence is also unavoidably
seen.
"Anyone caught carrying a con-
cealed weapon in this bar is
guilty of a felony, subject to a
maximum of five years in prison,
in violation of Michigan state
law," reads a sign in one bar.
Last summer, as fight involving
about 50 people broke out in
another local club, and one
drinker was stabbed with an ice
pick by another, a fact which ap-
peared in a newspaper as far away
as 600 miles in the Houghton
(population, 3,000) Daily Mining
Gazette.
This is also the romance of Ann
Arbor bars.

The Town Bar is small, dimly lit, and has heard many bands, from jazz that went to New York to jazz destined to stay in Ann Arbor.
Its clientele is a holdover from the defunct Falcon Bar, origin of Ann Arbor jazz.

-

A University student who has just achieved his majority ob-
serves an old ritual at the Pretzel Bell, chugging a free pitcher
of beer while standing'on a table.

The Schwabin House Band, all students, has been playing here
for almost three years. Schwabin owner, Eric Keller, says he
keeps a close ear to student tastes and claims this band satisfies.

Michael Erlewine (microphone) is the autocrat of the Prime
Movers, playing at Clint's Club, probably Ann Arbor's best band.

'V

Freddie and one of the souvenir
"bells" given to people who cele-
brate their 2Ist at the P-Bell.

Bimbo's house band, the Gaslighters, plays requests from exub-
erant drinkers, requests which not infrequently include "The
Victors."

te saxophonist at the Town Bar is a standout. He once played
with name jazz aggregations.

Pick the number of smiles in happy Bimbo's pizzeria and win a free peanut from this emporium of
dixieland. Folks sing along here, too.

ERNIE

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