A Leap of Faith

I was always suspicious that the concept of leap year was a mistake on somebody's part. Let's start with the Egyptians who brought us the 365 day solar calendar as far back as man can remember anything. Technically our planet's jaunt around the sun is actually 365 days, 5 hours, 48 minutes and 46 seconds, so they were pretty dang close. And whose to argue with the Egyptians?  Julius Caesar that's who. His astronomer pointed out the extra six hours and advised adding an extra day to the shortest month of the year. Voila! The leap year. This construct seemed to work for about 1600 years until Pope Gregory noticed that Easter was drifting into summer. Not a happy camper.

Turns out you can't round up that five hours and forty-eight minutes without consequences, and Gregory wasn't Pope for nothing.  He found his own astronomer to fix the hitch in that giddy up by decreasing the frequency of leap years. Plus he erased ten days. Yep, Romans who went to sleep on October 5 back in 1582, woke up 8 or so hours later on October 15 which must have been somewhat confusing for those not paying attention to the town crier.

Most of Roman Catholic Europe went along with the idea, but the Brits were having none of it, and America was on the same page until 1752 when the now eleven day lop was finally self-imposed. Suddenly George Washington's birthday leapt from February 11 to February 22 which means our current Presidents Day should have been closer to Lincoln's birthday which is February 12. Abe was robbed.

Are you still with me?
How did I get this far in life not knowing any of this?

Here I must thank Ben Guarino who wrote a great article about leap year things in The Washington Post this week including the newest proposal- the Hanky-Henke Permanent Calendar which would favor consistency over accuracy.  Whoops, I misread that. It's actually called the Hanke-Henry calendar, but I think hinky is a better name in general as hinky definitely defines the DC ROCKS calendar which will be amended later this weekend.

In the meantime two bust out shows happen this Friday: the Airport 77s at Slash Run and a rockabilly meltdown with Rock-A- Sonics and more at the Takoma VFW.

Also on Friday we have Kill Lincoln at the Pie Shop and the Allman Others Band at Hill Country.

February 29th, Anno Domini 2020, look for Jumpin Jupiter leaping around at the Rhodeside Grill, and Stop Worrying and Learn to Love the Bomb tearing up Slash Run.


(If Julius C. and Pope Greg were still around, they'd make it four Fridays and two Saturdays so no one would have to choose between gigs.)

Columbia Stations Redux

Marie @ Columbia Station #1

Last week Columbia Station, a jazz club for 25 years, closed at 2325 18th Street in Adams Morgan. The end of this club may give some music fans a serious case of deja vu because back in pre-historic times, a very different Columbia Station once existed. Many of us have fond, albeit heavily impaired, memories of the first Columbia Station- the one at 1836 Columbia Road.  

An ad from a 1979 Unicorn Times (which I had stashed in a closet) reminds us we saw bands like The Slickee Boys, Grits, and Skip Castro along with the caveat: "proper attire discouraged."

But much to my surprise, very little other information can be found online never mind a picture. Even with history hunter Andrew Ratliff's help, we could only dig up this one grainy photo from the Washington Post.

I had to turn to old pals to fill in the blanks although more than one said they'd have to think a bit to come up with a story not rated X.

Former manager Doug Porter remembers: "Columbia Station served many purposes as the neighborhood crossroads. Artsy types met to do artsy things. Old men came in and sat at the same spot at the bar each visit to watch the world go by. But things got different after about 10:30 at night. The station became a choice location for people of every persuasion to meet the one night stand of their dreams." Doug still has his business card.

He also recalls "Columbia Station always had a problem with rats. In the early years, then owner Paul Tauber would open up by clapping his hands loudly as he walked through the door. After Tauber sold the place to the Wheeler brothers, things got so bad the bartenders started keeping a baseball bat behind the bar to fend off the more aggressive ones."

Marie Broussard continues the rat-mares with a vivid memory of her first shift as bartender in 1980. "My first night of work, a rat came crawling out of the phone booth in the dining room and died in the middle of the room during the dinner rush. I think it succumbed to James the Dishwasher’s special peanut butter and rat poison sandwiches. After a prolonged death scene, while people jumped up and fled their checks, James scooped him up and took away the body."

Marie also recalls:  "We did dinner theatre for a while, and Arch Campbell came to review the show - a Kurt Weil review starring Sheila Joy.  Arch had a few too many and left for the TV station to go on air. We were gathered around the TV when Arch wandered back in the door after two hours of looking for his car. I don’t know if he ever did review that show."

Former bartender Mary Connole recalls a rodent-free story when Doug Porter was managing. "On my 30th birthday Tex Rubinowitz was playing, and I had told Porter that I had a crush on him. Next thing I knew Doug announced on stage that, for my birthday, I'd like to take Tex home." 

On a sadder note, my friend Jan Stovall, devoted Beatle fan, says she "was sitting outside on the patio when my waiter frantically announced that John Lennon had been shot. We were all in shock. I immediately went home, and friends started calling to commiserate."

Mark Hall also worked there as a manager/bartender and booked bands from roughly 1976 until about 1982. He remembers The Original Fetish, The Urban Verbs, Bill Holland and Rent's Due, Root Boy Slim, Razz, Catfish Hodge, Billy and the Shakes, The Dinettes, The Beatnik Flies, and Switchblade to name a few.

The one article I did find online was about Columbia Station's demise in 1984. Another old friend pops up here as well:

"As the neighborhood changed, so did the clientele," said Theodore Pawlik, a disenchanted former patron.  "And from there the nature of Columbia Station as an institution went through phases when they the owners weren't sure exactly what they wanted."


You can bet that more than one musician playing this weekend either remembers or has played Columbia Station starting Thursday with Dan Hovey (Rootboy Slim) and the David Kitchen Band at JVs. 

Friday a crazy, guitar slinging birthday bash happens for Anthony Pirog at Black Cat's Red Room.
(Happy Birthday, dude!)

Saturday... be on the look out for Joe Dolan (Beatnik Flies) and band The Vi-Kings throwing down a 1960s dance party at Rosensteel Hall which is a great place to see live music with its roomy dance floor and cheap drinks. 

Finally all you Dead-head types will appreciate the Black Muddy River Band's groove at DC Brau on Sunday. 

All We Need Is Love

Valentine's Day is almost here, and Valentine's Day (or VD as we used to call it back in high school when we knew it all) makes me think of love, and love makes me think of that song written by John Lennon for a TV show. A very special TV show. "Our World" was the planet's first, live, international broadcast which happened on June 25th, 1967. The producers wisely banned political types as cameras around the globe zoomed in on different scenes from a rancher on horseback in Canada to the construction of the subway in Tokyo. The Beatle's debut performance of "All You Need Is Love," was the program's finale. Shot at EMI Studios in London, the star studded audience included cats like Eric Clapton, Marianne Faithful, members of The Rolling Stones, The Who and Small Faces.  What a crazy cool party that must have been. Rock and roll was the revolution, Flower Power was on the rise, and the world got smaller - at least for one day.

This weekend let's try and keep that love going starting with Sunday because the folks at Hank Dietle's Tavern really need your help. Hank's is a historic road house out there on Rockville Pike that was gutted by fire last February.  Usually places like this get torn down in a heartbeat, but local heroes are purposefully rehabbing the building to be a new live music venue.  Sunday's fundraiser/party at Rosensteel Hall will feature seven bands with plenty of room to dance, confab, and be merry.  Plus the Knights of Columbus will be selling reasonably priced drinks and food. Please show your love for the local music scene by coming out for this event. Hit the link above for details. 

Backing up to Friday, the aptly named Valentine Slim has commandeered the Takoma VFW as well as the Wheaton VFW on Saturday. 

Other choices on Saturday include a David Bowie Valentine at the Pie Shop which would my cup of tea. 

But if you are feeling fancy, I recommend Eric Felten's Red Dress Ball at Glen Echo also on Saturday.

Blow Up Your TV

John Prine was one of my first loves music wise. His songs were smart and funny and often easy to figure out for struggling guitar geeks. He wrote Spanish Pipe Dream, part love song, part revolutionary anthem in 1971 back when we all watched the same stuff on TV.  Just to refresh your memory, when this song came out, the Viet Nam war was still raging, Nixon was president, and the digital age, which would eventually divide us all, was just beginning to dawn. The time has come once again to blow up the TV. Let's get out and talk to one another. Shall we?

Thank you, Fritz Hahn for updating your list of tv free bars.  I would also like to nominate the Galaxy Hut which screens movies via a VCR and has an an astounding list of beers on tap. The Hut also hosts live music most Sunday and Monday nights.

Bands often have to compete with screens in clubs, but what we pay attention to is up to us. Try the insouciant Malvivants at El Golfo on Friday. On Saturday Newmeyer Flyer's crew brings us Beatle's Love Songs at the Hamilton to kick off Valentine week because who couldn't use more love right now?

Sunday brings us a punk rock show at Slash Run where we can scream real loud as Pee Wee used to say without anyone minding.

And if the thought of Valentine's Day gives you the willies- consider attending the Worst Date Story Competition at Black Cat coming up on Tuesday Feb 11.