Before I went back in to the club Randle mentioned that he’d heard a few of my songs that I’d done with a local band called “Granny’s Bathwater” and asked if I’d be interested in sitting around with him sometime to play some of our original songs for each other. I listened to his songs and heard several things I thought were pretty interesting, plus I like his voice. I’d seen Randle perform with a local band once or twice, but I didn’t remember hearing that band doing any original stuff. After a while he asked if I could step outside to his car to listen to a cassette of a few of his original songs. One afternoon Randle Chowning came in and walked up to the bar and started talking to me about songwriting. Lots of slow afternoons with the sound system cranked up loud while listening to records by bands like the Sons Of Champlin, War and Harvey Mandel, then drawing an occasional beer for a patron or a friend who might not have a job or any money.Īt that time in my life, I thought it was a pretty cushy little job and it allowed me enough money where I felt I was at least one step above total poverty, which was the state that most of my fellow musicians around town existed in. It was to be a fun job, and an easy one at that. ![]() I remember not particularly enjoying those couple of weeks of my employment.īut then a day came when all the construction was finished and I put down my hammer and took up a position behind the new bar. ![]() We’d arranged them like a coalesce on all the table tops and then brushed some funky smelling clear petroleum based finish over each and every one of them. On those tables we placed hundreds of werid cut-outs of pictures and articles from magazines like Rolling Stone. Towards the end of construction we began putting together tables, lots and lots of tables. We also constructed a balcony that overlooked the whole club with spiral staircases at both ends. Things like a bar and a large walk-in cooler, a very big stage and a sound booth/backstage hang out area. Together Curt, Steve, Fuzzy, Grassler and I spent the next few months building things. Then I was introduced to another co-worker who was standing there at the ready with a hammer in one hand and a cold beer in the other. Upon arriving for work that morning, I met a man called Fuzzy, who would be the head carpenter. I remember it sure didn’t look like much at first glance. My first day on the new job was also the first time I’d ever noticed, much less been inside of the old vacant brick warehouse under the Glenstone viaduct that would soon become my place of employment. Plus it sounded like some fun might be had at this New Bijou Theater. The idea of earning an actual paycheck seemed to me like the perfect solution to my current state of destitution. Building the New Bijou Theater was a job I very much needed. It was the summer of 1972 and I was 25, with no real ambitions other than to make some form of music on a daily basis and hang out with my friends. Then after a few moments of silence, they asked me if I’d like a job. It all sounded really good to me, then somewhere along the way they mentioned that employees would be able to drink free beer while working. ![]() They talked about all the touring bands and musicians they wanted to bring to town. They explained the concept and where it was to be located. When my good friends Curt Hargis and Steve Canaday said it was to be called, The New Bijou Theater, I was intrigued.
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