By Cathy Unruh 1-24-21
Note: House Rent Records is guided by a team of 10 people. Cathy Unruh is one of these people and a dear friend of the House Jumpers.
This little tale is from the time before Covid, when people went out to be with other people, have a drink (or maybe more), hug and be hugged, talk to one another up close and without concern for ambient particulates floating around our cozy tables as we sometimes leaned in to practically shout our “Hellos” to new arrivals. Some of you will still remember those good old days. Others won’t, so I’ll tell this tale and hope you can either recall it and correct me in my telling – or that you’ll take it in as I present it and enjoy it even a fraction as much as I did that night at Frank’s – the night when Charlie stole the show.
If you’re not familiar with Lawrence, KS (aka LFK), you need to know that it has a lively nightlife thanks to no shortage of venues that serve up live music with satisfying beverages and enthusiastic crowds of music lovers. Many of these venues are down on or adjacent to Mass Street, comfortably situated so that on a good evening, even a couple in late middle-age could easily park the car one time and walk from venue to venue, mid-winter, and still come out smiling each time. Frank’s, though, was separated from Mass Street and the throngs frequenting those venues by a little thing called the Kaw River. The bridge may as well have been an international border that separated the spaces, for the culture of N. Lawrence (NOLA) vibrated at a whole different frequency than the places on Mass Street.
Frank’s has existed since the days when river trade was hopping and NoLa was where it was happening. It’s got a long and storied history, about which I pretend to know only very little. When Charlie stole the show, it was a pretty popular night spot for some of the best area bands to put on a show to unusually enthusiastic and appreciative audiences. A unique combination of an eclectic den, Grandma’s fancy sitting room and the family’s cozy cabin in the woods, Frank’s had room for a band and a few dancers (depending upon the number of musicians).
Seating near the band was limited to a couple of tall tables – and on the night Charlie stole the show, we had found seats at one where I had a bird’s eye view of the band, the bar, the front seating areas and the front door. I liked to sit where I could make good eye contact with Ann at the mic and watch Marvin’s cues to her and the rest of the boys in the band.
I was in my happy place, soaking up the sound and not being expected to carry on a conversation while I listened to the lively, authentic blues and jive House Jumpers is known for.
The place was packed as it usually was when House Jumpers were playing. The bar was busy, the music was flowing and everyone appeared to be having an excellent time when one of the late-comers at the bar seemed to be having a bit of a problem with using his quiet voice and apparently he was also experiencing something of a balance problem as well. The music went on and I was aware that the fellow’s demeanor wasn’t growing any more calm, but it was still well below the level of being what I’d call a general disturbance, when the doorman, bouncer and persona extraordinaire, Charlie, made his move to steal the show. I don’t recall what song the band was playing, but I know that Ann was keeping our attention with her animated lyrics when out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Charlie was dancing – literally dancing the obviously inebriated late-comer from the bar through the crowd, past the band and right out the front door without missing a beat! It was beautiful to see, and just in case any of the crowd was missing it, Ann’s eyes led us all as we followed the couple across the place at the end of the bar, across the dance floor and straight out the front door. A few seconds later, the door was flung open again and in bounded a broadly smiling Charlie – welcomed warmly with a boisterous hero’s welcoming cheer and a round of applause from the assembled crowd, led by Ann at the mic! And the band just played on – even as Charlie had stolen the show and created memories to last a lifetime.
Music, my friends, is the great communicator. In that moment we all experienced the same feeling of triumph for Charlie’s amazing dancing bounce – one that had ejected the happy one on his way out the door and raised a resounding cheer from us all. To music, friends! Those good old days will come again and we’re going to love them so much more than we ever have.