It’s another chilly Friday night that finds Damon, Megan, Amber and I driving down to the Brewery District, so that we might watch The Menus play at Ludlow’s. The Menus are of course a cover band, but they play a really energetic and varied mix, easily the best and most popular such act around these parts. Actually, they’re not even from here, they hail from Cincinnati, but are obviously in Columbus quite a bit. In fact I’ve probably seen them live more than any C-bus band at this point, with the possible exception of maybe Superstar Rookie. But that would be it. Amber and I dance together quite a bit, those other two not so much.
At one point, the girls head to the restroom, and just about as soon as they leave, here come Stephanie Nupen and Stephanie Porter gliding over to say hello. This feels a little too staged, as though they had to have been watching us, unbeknownst to Damon and me, and waiting for just such a break in the action. Nupen seems extremely happy to see we two fellows, for some reason, and throws an arm around both of us. Both of these girls, I should mention, look better than they had even a few short years ago.
“Hey, sorry about that night,” Damon says, apologizing for a wild time at our apartment, nearly four years ago, which we’ve never had a chance to discuss like this. Though hearing through the grapevine Stephanie was totally cool about everything that transpired…her friend Dawn, however, was not so much. “Things got a little out of hand,” he adds.
“Oh, fuck that girl,” Nupen replies, “she’s a psycho anyway.”
So this is cool to hear, that she’s also had a falling out with her former friend and it wasn’t just us. Porter’s friendly, meanwhile, but we don’t know her as well, and she doesn’t have much to say. Then some preppy guy slides into the picture, it seems pretty obvious that he must be here with Nupen. He drags her away, shooting some evil eye over his shoulder back at the two of us, and Porter saunters off with them as well.
Damon, meanwhile, who is messed up on the cough medicine he’s been taking for his cold, on top of the beers he’s been pounding, is in just the right mood to shout after them, “it’s okay, buddy, I’ve got a picture of her PUSSY at home!”
This is true. We do. But more importantly, Megan and Amber return right after this, missing this spectacle entirely. And we never mention any of it to them.
Damon and Megan mostly just stand in the middle, by some railing on the ground floor, talking. I twirl around some with Amber, like we’re halfway just goofing off, for example Smooth is playing and I enact one of those maneuvers where I spin her out at arm’s length, our hands just barely touching, then draw her back in, as she spins I think in the middle of this improvised choreography. Then I kiss her as she returns to me. Otherwise, however, we have serious matters to discuss.
Like earlier in the night, when we’d first arrived, she hikes up one pant leg to show me these knee high go-go boots she’s wearing. I hadn’t noticed, but this is a bit of an in-joke between us now, stemming from a night where she said to me, “so…Tawnya and I were talking, and we agree that you have a foot fetish!” I had never heard this before, never really considered it, even. But don’t dispute that notion, either – it seems in my best interests to play along, and who knows, it might be true.
“You know all about my foot fetish,” I tell her, favorably commenting upon the boots, which are a new piece in her repertoire.
“Uh huh,” she beams, pulling her pant leg back down.
Then later, we’re standing side by side, the others to the left of us, watching the band, kind of leaning into one another with my arm somewhat around her. At least until she pulls away to grab a section of her still quite lengthy, and gorgeous, curly light brown locks, as she holds this out for inspection, declaring, “I got my hair cut. See?”
“I thought it looked a little shorter,” I tell her.
“Cut it myself,” she says.
“Can you cut mine?” I ask.
“Sure,” Amber replies. “But I cut my brother’s one time and it was all uneven, it was short in some spots and spiky in others.”
I conclude that this is nothing a hat won’t cover up, and insist that I am down for this experiment.
Throughout all this, with basically just an hour and a half at our disposal, Damon and I have been buying rounds of beer to make up for lost time. Just before closing Damon returns with another round, and Amber groans, protests, “I’ve got to work in the morning!”
Jokingly nudging Megan, I say, “it must suck, you know.”
“Well, what time do you have to work tomorrow?” Amber questions.
“Not until late,” I tell her, with an antagonizing wink, “I schedule myself late on Saturdays so I can stay out and party on Friday nights.”
“Maybe I don’t want to make my own schedule!” she fires back at me, in jest.
Once outside, the bitter air stings, seems to wrap itself like arms around us. Both girls especially – in flimsy sleeveless dresses – are freezing. I wordlessly shrug my own coat off and throw it around Amber’s shoulders as we trudge toward where we’ve parked. Damon even offers Megan his treasured hoodie, although she, apparently not realizing the magnitude of that gesture, equivalent to entrusting some random beggar with the holy grail, declines. A little further ahead, the ladies insist that Damon and I limbo under the arm of that parking garage exit thingie.
II.
Ludlow’s was a bar located in the Brewery District, at 485 S. Front Street. Though given this address, it was actually located off the street, facing sideways, toward the courtyard between it and what is currently known as Brewmasters Gate (apostrophe optional – though nearly every city guide I reference lists the name as “Brewmaster’s Gate,” the etching in stone above the entrance arch says Brewmasters. So take your pick). And nothing is currently at this specific spot right now.
The last event listing I can find for them is a show by The Vestals on June 19, 2004. This sounds about right, although it’s still astounding to consider the swiftness with which this extremely trendy and popular live music venue – much like the bars of Brewery District as a whole – fell out of favor. I know that Ludlow’s closed completely at some point in late 2002 or early 2003. Then in in May of 2004 the people who own Brewmaster’s Gate reopen it, as part of a 3-for-$5 package that also includes the Green Room. But interest is still minimal – too many bars here, in my estimation – and they’re eventually charging no cover to get into all three places. The Vestals came here from Minnesota, but admission was free, which is possibly all you need to know.
We saw The Menus play here a ton. In fact these are the only occasions I can remember coming to Ludlow’s, to watch them perform. The above foray was a handy one I easily found in my journals, and probably the most memorable, but there are others I will surely get around to digging out someday.
But what happened to this club? That’s the real burning question. And so maybe a deep dive into the archives is in order, to see what I can find after a little digging around…
Ludlow’s opened in May of 1994, and was initially a Thursday to Sunday operation. Prior to its arrival, the Brewery District is a much more tepid affair, with happenings at the Patio ending at 11pm and not much else going on otherwise. Slicing off an 8500 square foot section of the giant Wasserstrom Building, Ludlow’s figures to change all this, renovating the space as a proper live music venue while preserving some original touches, such as the brick walls and exposed wooden beams.
“We are approaching it cautiously,” manager Mike Edwards says in a Dispatch piece dated 2/4/94, “we are trying to find the formula for success.”
Launching at last on May 26, a Thursday, among their live acts this first summer are Freddy Jones Band and John Gorka. During its down time, meanwhile, the space makes itself available for events, like the DesignTour II business creatives extravaganza which hosts its reception here in June. Dash Rip Rock play here in November, another notable show featuring Watershed as its supporting act, but the venue is still in its infancy, and will take a few more years to fully hit its stride.
Chris Duarte’s performance in February of ’95 earns a Dispatch review by Bill Eichenberger, and is really the first noteworthy coverage I could find while recently researching Ludlow’s. And yet some kinks remain to iron out, if indeed they ever are. Musician Bob Sauls, from the opening band, is condemning the sound here, as these high ceilings tend to swallow the music whole. According to Eichenberger, Duarte overcomes this problem in part with an onslaught of guitar shredding, to the delight of the couple hundred or so hardcore fans on hand. Yet appealing to crowds larger than two hundred, who for example are maybe not into a blitzkrieg of blues guitar shredding, is one nut this venue has yet to fully crack – although by this point, they are commonly open more than just four days a week.
Just three nights later, for example, on a Tuesday, Eichenberger takes in Todd Snider here, and writes a mostly glowing review the next day. These acts seemed to basically summarize Ludlow’s approach at this time, however: out of town bands you’d maybe sort of heard of, but were unlikely to go see unless you’d actually listened to them. Word of mouth hasn’t caught on to the extent people will just show up to see whatever, thus the draw remains somewhat limited.
Then again, they do have Cake on a Friday night in May – a little bit before that band really took off, yet possibly the most high profile booking to date anyway – and hot on its heels is a bash called Summerfest ’95 headlined by Marshall Crenshaw, which is split between Ludlow’s and its sister Patio operation. To me this signals not only that the venue itself is coming of age, but also that this district as a whole has hit its stride as a party destination.
From the mid 90s onward through the early portion of this new millennium, this suddenly hot Brewery District area is on fire. A March ’96 show at Ludlow’s for instance features indie rock sensation The Rugburns…as an opening act, for local band Howlin’ Maggie. In June, they open up their parking lot for a “Southern Comfort Rocks The Blues” all day show. On that day, under a brutal, blistering heat (and at least one rain shower), the likes of George Clinton, Taj Mahal, and Keb’ Mo, and others will take turns gracing the makeshift stage for a solid ten hours.
And the names are getting slightly bigger over time, or at least more fashionable: Duncan Sheik, The Verve Pipe, Semisonic. Luscious Jackson. The Wallflowers. At the same time, the calendar is not so crammed with dates that they can’t open their doors to one-off rentals, like sheriff Jim Karnes’ big reelection party in November of this same year.
Wilco graces this big vaulted interior in early 1997, even. But for my friends and me, we only truly become interested in this place near the tail end of the decade, when some much maligned yet hugely popular cover bands are booked here on a regular basis. I say “much maligned” not due to any quality concerns, but only because these outfits, hopping from venue to venue on one long soundwave of beloved party classics, are controversial in some circles. Local bands trying to peddle their originals to the masses are often disgruntled over the drawing power of these groups. Not only that, but in my experience, plenty of regular hipster type music fans around town will consider you plenty cheesy merely for going to watch one of these performances.
My responses to these complaints, other than the numerous times I surely said some variation of “eh, who cares,” were mostly two-fold, maybe even three or four. First: at least this is live music. If you’re this up in arms, maybe go after the karaoke industry. When you manage to successfully drive that scourge out of town, then we can perhaps discuss these cover bands. Other than that, though, the ladies would often prefer checking out one of these frivolous and fun party ensembles, dancing and singing along with song after song that they already know and love, in a packed, vibrant atmosphere, rather than some local rockers mumbling originals to a crowd of fifteen. And if we are out with said ladies, particularly if fresh recruits we are attempting to woo in the early stages of courtship, then chances are this is what we’re going to do. Beyond these primary points, however, you have to consider that I’ve seen more than my fair share of the local guys peddling their own wares, too. Plus, I’ve also always had an insatiable interest in learning as much as I could about pretty much every corner of this fair city, and this represents yet another tiny sliver of that neverending quest.
The Menus are the first act to convince us we should brave these waters, after a solid year or two of discussing it. I could be wrong – we’ve seen them so many times, at Ludlow’s especially, that these begin to blur together – but if I’m not mistaken, this maiden voyage is a night that Doug and Leah, who are veterans of this scene at this point, convince us to join them down here. And if this wasn’t the first time, then the night I’m thinking of is close to it, with Damon, Paul, and me for sure, and I believe Alan as well joining those two, perhaps some others, as we finally get to witness this band. They hail from the Cincinnati region, but cover the entire state and possibly beyond to a staggering degree. Everyone always whispers that the singer is Jerry Springer’s son, too, and while I don’t know if that is total horseshit or not – mostly because I think we don’t want it disproven, therefore never look it up, or even ask him outright on the handful of occasions where we speak to the guy – he definitely has the showman chops down, either way.
He even has this little dressing area set up on the side of the stage, for his frequent costume changes. The four musicians in the group, meanwhile, range in age and appearance from boyish college-esque dudes, to someone who could maybe stunt double for AJ Angelo, to the evidently much older keyboard player, with his long greying hair, typically a jean jacket, all around looking like he could pass for a member of AC/DC. Oh, and he is also sipping NA beer all night, which hints at a decadence buried somewhere in his past.
“Let’s put it this way,” Damon says at one show, “nobody starts out drinking non-alcoholic beer.”
They all have mad chops, though, and I even seem to recall the drummer playing in a cast at some point. Dedicated to their craft, though, and also somehow finding time to learn hot new songs as these arrive on the airwaves, on occasion, or always throwing in an oldie or two you’ve never heard them play before. And though going over extremely well everywhere, they seem tailor-made for Ludlow’s, somehow, it isn’t difficult at all to picture them as the house band here, for as many nights a week as they care to play. There are others, of course, for example the Snow Shoe Crabs are mining a similar vein at this time, but The Menus wear the uncontested crown.
III.
Ludlow’s sticks around long enough to cross the bridge into an altogether different era, to the extent you just assumed they would be in it for the long haul. By the summer of 2002, there could not have possibly been a more insane block to visit, in all of Columbus, than Brewmaster’s Gate on a Friday or Saturday night. Yet this attraction declined twice as swiftly as it blew up, a staggering reversal that I still can’t quite believe. The courtyard between the two buildings was crammed full of bodies, not to mention the sidewalks (and street itself, half the time, it seemed) of Front, but most of all the bars lining it, of which Ludlow’s and Brewmaster’s Gate were but two. Banana Joe’s for example was another such casualty, and I don’t feel like I’ve ever heard a definitive explanation for what happened down here. It just turned into a ghost town, seemingly overnight, and that was that.
I have seen an ’02/’03 New Year’s Eve listing for Ludlow’s somewhere, and that may very well have been the last show here for a year and a half, if it even happened at all. By January of ’03, the Dispatch is formally reporting that they are toast. Then in the spring of 2004, some bold press releases hit the newsstands, about how Ludlow’s and The Gate were reopening for summer, with a slew of national acts booked. But that all appears to have been concentrated from April to June, and the enterprise may well have gone belly-up again at that point. At any rate, Ludlow’s absolutely did not last into 2005.
But, you know, you really can’t get overly nostalgic for this stuff. It’s a shame the building sits empty at present – without question it would be better if Ludlow’s were here still, or just about anything else at all – yet at the same time, people never grew attached to this place the same way they did, say, Little Brother’s, or Stache’s, and definitely not Andyman’s Treehouse. So that’s the tradeoff, I guess, for not making your bread and butter with these scrappy little local bands, and their attendant smaller crowds. The loyalty’s just not there. At the first slight hiccup, you can be gone, and it’s as though nobody even notices. I mean, despite coming here countless times myself, I feel like I remember their distinctive circular black and white logo with a dog in the middle more than I do where the bathrooms or the bar were located inside, and that’s probably a telling point. Much like The Menus, though, this club was good while it lasted.
IV.
And now for a highly incomplete rundown of some shows they had here. If there’s one tiny sliver of a silver lining to a club being closed, though, I guess it’s that this represents a “closed circuit,” and I might reasonably someday have every event listed. Whereas when some place remains open, then I will probably never get caught up. So here’s what I’ve got thus far…
1997 –
October 6: Brad
October 23: moe. They played, in order, Seat of My Pants, St. Augustine, Bring You Down, It, 32 Things, Waiting for the Punchline, Plane Crash, Yodelittle, Moth, Four, Meat, Head, then an encore of Jimmy Cliff’s The Harder They Come followed by The Ramones’ I Wanna Be Sedated.
1998 –
July 10: moe. again. Brent Black, Moth, Hi & Lo, Plane Crash, Waiting for the Punchline, Salt Creek. Then a couple Grateful Dead cuts (Cryptical Envelopment, The Other One), followed by Sensory Deprivation Bank, Time Ed., Stranger Than Fiction, Recreational Chemistry, Buster. For the encore it’s Queen of the Rodeo, finally Blister In The Sun by Violent Femmes.
October 28: moe. yet again. Akimbo, Big World, Timmy Tucker, Brain Tuba, Happy Hour Hero, Queen of the Rodeo, 32 Things, Plane Crash, St. Augustine, Threw It All Away, Faker, Time Ed., Jazz Wank, Buster, finally freaking Free Bird by you know who.
1999 –
May 5: Semi-local boys O.A.R. are here. Get Away, Night Shift, About an Hour Ago, Conquering Fools, On Top The Cage, About Mr. Brown, The Wanderer, City On Down, Hey Girl, Here’s To You, Untitled, That Was A Crazy Game Of Poker (this is a popular song of theirs, yet despite the subject matter, I’ve never been a huge fan).
September 22: moe. for possibly the last time. at least that i’m aware of. moth, nebraska, captain america, spaz medicine, spine of a dog, rebubula, seat of my pants, rise, tambourine, plane crash, meat, backwoods, and then san ber’dino by the one and only frank zappa.
2001 –
October 11: Chrome
October 12: Reaganomics
October 13: Stop Drop & Roll
October 25: Chrome
October 26: Boogie Fever Ball with Shuckin Bubba Deluxe
October 27: Hoo Doo Soul Band
November 1: Snow Shoe Crabs
