Culture

Backstage Redux: follow-up to a talk on d.c. space held on March 31, 2025

posted 4/6/2025

Backstage at the Sanctuary, Washington DC
Bill Warrell, Cynthia Connolly, Claudia Joseph & Dot Steck
with music by the Messthetics

Bill Warrell’s brilliance is manifested in numerous ways, and his skills as a storyteller shone brightly last Sunday afternoon. My own story-lines started in the middle and ended incompletely, which was puzzling and frustrating to me since I enjoy talking and sharing the history of d. c. space. For those who were there and those who missed the event, I have reconstructed elements of the narrative, fleshed out details and added information.

Please note: Michele Casto started the punk archive at the MLK Library and welcomes material from the 1980’s music scene: she asked me to spread the word. It was uplifting to meet with her and two other library staff on April 1, to review my collection and select material for the upcoming DIY group exhibit that will open on October 4. I dropped off about 180 items many of which will be permanently donated and accessible to the public.

How can we collect, organize, and share our innumerable stories? Can we catalog the incredible number of performances?  And is it possible that a complete collection of calendars might be held among us? There are so many smart people in our community; I am sure we can find a way to transmit the energy and intentions of the time.

Some details of my origin story: I was guided downtown by my American University friend Julia Brooke, who I met in a graphics class.  After moving from London, she integrated with the budding DC music scene, which was adjacent to the then-new punk rock trend raging in England. We visited Roddy Frantz and Carol Blizzard at their home near the AU campus. Roddy was the frontman for the burgeoning band the Urban Verbs, and Carol later married Bill Warrell. I started going to every Verbs show and there I got to know Robin Rose, the synthesizer player, and I photographed him for a show of his encaustic paintings. Many Verbs fans were artists or scene makers; posters for events were often hand-screened and were always eye catching.

My friend Julia, whose family were good friends with the Copelands (Stewart Copeland drummer for the Police) excitedly told me of her adventures at the Atlantis Club: Miles Copeland had booked Ultravox in the basement, and the fire marshals shut it down due to overcrowding. In spite of Julia’s encouragement, I was slow to commit to the scene as I continued riding horses in VA at my family’s farm. Julia later did some graphics for the Police. She always had a wonderful sense of style and unlimited zest for thrilling adventures.

Julia introduced me to David Howcroft, a WGTB DJ, and Bob Boilen, his roommate. At the time, they were living on Wisconsin Ave. David and Bob produced the now legendary Hall of Nations event: a benefit for WGTB with the Cramps, the Verbs & the Chumps. Bill Harvey (He later roomed with Chris Frantz and Tina Weymouth of the Talking Heads. Roddy is Chris Frantz’s brother.) and David organized the Verbs show with B-52’s at the Corcoran School of Art (poster by Bill Harvey). Soon after, Bob asked if I would take photos of the cast of Spheres Theater Co. – his friends who presented plays at d.c. space. I did so, and then we went to d.c. space for lunch. It was 1979, and Bob was in the new band Tiny Desk Unit with Susan Mumford, Michael Barron, Joe Menacher, and Chris Thompson. Over a couple of years, I photographed the group many times and went to most of their shows. Susan Mumford and Sam Peterson (of Rhoda and the Bad Seeds) would later become my roommates.

The first musician I remember seeing in the d.c. space loft was Anthony Braxton who completely blew up my concept of music. He brought out every saxophone from the tiny soprano to the giant Contrabass on wheels.  The room vibrated with sound and the weight of the audience. The remarkable range of emotion and the visceral impact changed something deep inside me. Not long after, Bob and David presented James Chance and the Contortions.  It was a short show – Chance had a very short fuse. The impact, though, is still with me, as again, I had never known that music could be so immediate and disruptive.

An early memory: Before a stage was added to the room, Rhoda and the Bad Seeds set up on the restaurant floor by the door leading to 7th St. Danny Frankel drummed back in the corner window with a plant hanging over his head. Sam Peterson was on keyboards and vocals, black bangs over a half-hidden face. Greg Strzempka shredded on guitar. Michael Barron played in his fuzz-laden and fantastic way, and Kevin (Doug) Lay sang and danced. Dancing was an essential part of many Corcoran-based gatherings, along with socializing, fashion, and drama. (Michael, Sam, and Doug (Kevin) all went to the Corcoran.) Their concerts were energy-infused parties marked by the co-mingling of creative ideas and close-knit relationships.

d.c. space was located at 7th & E St, NW, at the time a fairly desolate area full of porn shops and vacant buildings as well as the remnants of a once vibrant shopping district. Bill Warrell lived above a restaurant called Whitlow’s a few blocks away at 11th & E St before moving around the block to the Atlantic Building, home of the Atlantis Club and then Nightclub 9:30 on F St. In 1979 Bob Boilen moved from Wisconsin Ave to Bill’s old apartment. His new roommate was Chris Thompson, the drummer for Tiny Desk Unit. There was an old barber’s chair there, brought in when the East Wing of d.c. space converted from a barbershop to a bar. I visited Bob often, while still living in Virginia after college. Early in 1980, he had good news; there was space available in an apartment over The Lincoln House restaurant.

The Lincoln House still survives on 10th St between E and F across from Ford’s Theater. I did not think twice about moving there. I knew I wanted to see as many shows as possible at d.c. space, live in this vibrant community, and spend more time with Bob.  I reverse commuted to VA, riding horses by day and going out at night.  My roommate first was John Beaver Truax, who I would come to learn partied continually. When I moved in, I had never used a key to lock a door. I don’t remember asking any questions, and burned-out downtown somehow did not phase me, even though I had never lived in a city. I liked how it emptied out at night, and friendly locals populated the streets.
How I survived my ignorance is a mystery. The hand of fate must have placed me there and protected me.  The extremely filthy apartment had been inhabited by local musicians and took me a month to clean. The cat had no litter box. Pieces of broken mirror were scattered at the edges of the rooms and there was a Glory hole in the door leading upstairs.  Evidently, my apartment had previously been some sort of underground gay club.

Several sketchy occupants were living above us, and it rained roaches. Mr Thomas, an upstairs neighbor, sometimes drank heavily and passed out on the landing.  Notwithstanding, he was unfailingly polite to me when he was conscious and I was not particularly bothered finding him passed out and stepping over him to go to work. Around 1980, downtown began to change.  The Metro was being built, and there was a constant pounding as steel supports were set.  The Hecht Co. building was demolished, and the Convention Center was built. Construction projects provided ample material to use for home improvements and art projects. There was a dumpster out back, and when we tossed our garbage, invariably, several rats jumped out. I heard that Steve Oaks used to shoot them with an air rifle. The apartment was burglarized three times while I lived there: once, after a friend kicked in the back door because my roommate owed him $30 and didn’t answer the phone. None of this discouraged me, and I never thought of going anywhere else.

I had some excellent neighbors. Steve Oaks and Olivia Georgia lived on E St, and Steve was filming the animated series Penny for PeeWee’s Playhouse. I later purchased the Bolex camera he used to shoot those sequences. He was extremely funny and clever and had rigged the parking meters so we could leave our cars on the street.  He had drilled a small hole through the plastic casing on several meter heads.  I would put in a quarter and then place a short piece of coat hanger behind the metal flag, so it stayed there indefinitely. Eventually, all the meters were updated and I paid for parking at the Layne Bryant lot across the street. There I met Robert Preissler while I was waiting for my green mustang, my cat on a leash, and he was waiting for his work van from Penn Camera, a photo supply store just around the corner. He would soon introduce me to the Ziff sisters, Amy and Bitzi, who would later form Betty with Allison Palmer, a bartender at 9:30 club. (On Beyond Zebra was their band I helped promote for a short time and I suggested that Betty was a more unusual offering and would be an easier sell.) Robert later roomed with and introduced me to Bruce (Merkle) Hellington the front man in a brand new band called 9353. Their group of friends would become a significant part of the d.c. space scene over the next few years.

Meanwhile, Bill Warrell ran District Curators, Inc., a non-profit that brought name players to d.c. space and also used multiple other locations, including the Pension Building (National Building Museum), Warner Theater, Freedom Plaza, abandoned buildings like the Hub or Landsburgh’s, Lisner Auditorium and others. Bob Boilen was a friend of Bill’s and told me about a grant opportunity to work for Bill at his office in the Atlantic building.  The grant requirements were: to be under 23 years old, to have lived in the District for at least a year, and to have earned less than $3,000 the previous year. I met all three requirements and got the job as an office assistant. From then on, I did whatever was needed to keep programs running. This included typing up and delivering calendar listings, ads, and such in person, answering the phone, and working the graphics camera. We listened to tapes together, and I became familiar with Bill’s tastes and inclinations, sometimes volunteering my opinion. In 1980, Sally Berg was doing the graphics and played in the D.C. band R.E.M. Later, the band changed their name to Ego-K and then Egoslavia because of some Athens band with the same name. Sally was a skilled drummer, and the band was exciting – a stellar line-up with Greg Strzempka on vocals and guitar, his partner Pam Lewis on keyboards, and Chris Anderson on bass. Sally was not only a brilliant graphic artist, she was fast. And fun! Both magnetic and sincerely warm, Sally was too talented to stay put and headed off to tour with Lydia Lunch.

I began taking over the graphics. I remember we had an IBM Selectric typewriter with a metal ball that could be switched out to change the font. It had a half-space key so we could adjust the type to fit. Eventually, we bought a waxer to stick down the type instead of using rubber cement. We used the camera to enlarge and shrink images and to achieve the distinctive reversals that defined Bill’s style. The camera should have had a name because it was its own entity. I would guess the camera was 6 feet long; it filled a small room adjacent to the office. We worked on a tight budget and photo paper was expensive so I paid close attention. Screens for newspaper ads and the full sheet reversals required finesse. At the Blade newspaper office downstairs, Gardner Smith printed type for District Curators event programs since our office had no computer. My rustic skills meshed with Bill’s style; he told me how he wanted the member mailers and jazz flyers laid out and I pasted them up.  After the d.c. space office moved to my living room, the d.c. space calendars were simplified since my responsibilities became even more diverse and the camera was no longer steps from my desk.

However, in 1981, Bill and I each had a big desk at either end of the 7th-floor room; his desk was by the window facing F St. When the phone rang, I would answer, cover the receiver, and ask him if he was in: he was likely to be mid-stream in something else. Every day was new and exciting. I ate terrible food, worked late hours, and continued riding horses in Virginia to make extra money.  Looking back at photos; I realize most of us smoked.  My family worried about me, and I visited often so they would be less concerned. They were convinced I might be shot because the crime rate was high at that time, and in fact, a person was killed in their car at the intersection of 11th & E St. just outside of Bob’s apartment. Nonetheless, I walked alone at all hours in neighborhoods even more dangerous than my own. 

It isn’t easy to delineate my work at District Curators, Inc from my work at d.c. space since separation of the two entities was never complete. I distributed tickets for jazz shows to record stores and sold them at the East Wing bar the night of the show. I loved the anticipatory energy of people as they came in on those nights. This, being around the musicians and standing in the back of a packed house listening to great jazz, compensated for the low pay and late hours. A jazz show might have three sets, the final one beginning at 1am. Pushing things to the limit was expected. It was a seamless partnership, with District Curators managing all the name talent and running the bigger events at other venues but sometimes spilling celebrities into a spin-off event at d.c. space. Throughout my time with DC Inc and d.c.space, Bill came to the weekly d.c. space staff meetings, and we talked often.

When nine guitar amps were needed for Glenn Branca, our fans were devoted and generous: all nine were delivered by individuals to 9:30 Club. Once, Bill sent me to beg for 19 music stands, and it went much easier than I expected. Everyone loved Bill and the musicians he presented.  I assisted in diverse capacities at various events even after d.c space became my employer. My replacement at DC Inc., Pam Christensen, became my roommate though we didn’t know each other. She needed to live near the office so in she came. Similarly, Jared Hendrickson was housed at 506 10th St for a few years while working at 9:30 club around the corner. Several roommates connected to space rotated through and many people visited. Mostly, we all got along without difficulty because of or despite our eccentricities. And fortunately, our landlord Gus, who ran the restaurant downstairs, never raised the rent – it was $500 a month.

While Bill was clearly a curator, Cynthia Connelly identified herself as a programmer during the talk at Backstage. I morphed from an office manager and graphic designer into a booking and promotions manager. Promotions meant putting calendars on every available bulletin board in NW and getting ads and listings to papers and press releases to writers. Relationships with radio DJs, record stores, reporters and arts organizations increased the visibility of d.c. space. From 1982 until I retired at the end of 1987, Bill entrusted the day-to-day booking to me with surprisingly little supervision. For several years, I worked for both d.c. space and District Curators, Inc. and towards the end, solely for d.c.space. Cynthia subbed for me for two months in 1986 when I left town on an adventure with Tyrant Swing, a band from Texas. When I turned 30 the following year, it was easy to pass the baton to Cynthia who was capable, connected and full of energy.

Permaculture is my work now; the practice shares similar intentions of creative expression and close community. The word permaculture is a portmanteau of permanent culture.  While I create designs that are ecologically resonant, humans are always at the center of the system. Diverse inter-related communities are the most culturally rich and the most resilient and regenerative; d.c. space benefited from the cross-pollination of interdisciplinary artists and interaction with other arts organizations. I liked many genres of music and valued various levels of skill. Poetry, film, performance, celebrations, and visual art were significant cultural companions to the music events.

Susan Warrell, Bill’s mother and our Space Mother too, managed business affairs, curated the art on the walls and chose the Dinner Theater shows and dates (which sometimes dominated weekend evenings). She kept a steady hand on the helm and not only tolerated but embraced the quirks of her employees. I completely adored her and looked to her for guidance. When a dinner theater show was a hit – as was often the case – rock shows might start at 11pm. My hat is off to the managers who managed this!

I liked it when performers were friendly, though this was not a requirement. It was great if bands drew a crowd, and even better if that crowd consumed more than water.  I sometimes went to shows to prevent damage to the facility and to be available to diffuse fights. Monitoring shows had me working at night as well as during the day. Eventually, there were too many broken chairs even though we had been stowing them in the front window during rock shows. People in the back would pull them out to stand on when the room was full. Susan Warrell, who understood the realities of staying in business, instituted a $35 door return to the house.  I had to break this news to the bands and caught an earful from old-timers who resented the change.

During the Sanctuary talk, Mark Segraves asked me, “What was the best show you saw at d.c. space?”. There were so many great ones it felt impossible to reply. The answer was right in front of me: Brendan Canty played a show at space with One Last Wish (Michael Hampton, Edward Janney & Guy Picciotto) and also one with Happy Go Licky (Guy Picciotto, Edward Janney & Mike Fellows). Both were spectacular, unforgettable shows that exhilerated the audience. Incredibly, I had even written this down the night before the talk so I would not forget to say it – then I forgot!

Instead, I skipped to the middle of the story I had thought to tell, about HR. The Bad Brains had played up in the d.c. space loft in 1979. In 1985, as HR was shifting his focus (and calling himself Joseph I), he returned to d.c. space. We met in person to schedule his talk on Rastafarianism, and bookings related to Olive Tree records . Ziontrain, Strykers Posse, Press Mob, and HR with Beefeater delivered powerful shows. Spyche Elijah Bonjovi fronted Press Mob and later that year returned playing bass with her band Parasite. Her no-nonsense attitude was distinctive. All these shows were influential, and I was moved by the energy they emitted. At the Sanctuary talk, I trailed off to avoid saying that two of the bands punched a hole in the wall while performing, on different nights. It was not the point of the story even if it would have been a crowd pleasing climax. Picking a favorite show felt forced: the easy answer, though, was Happy Go Licky! and One Last Wish! – a tie!

When I said that allowing artists to fully express themselves, to experiment and grow, was of equal importance to hosting name players, I wanted to spotlight the 9353 marathon that packed the place every night for a week and Betty for their barrier-breaking national success. I chimed in that Lunchmeat had grown into Soulside and was still touring. On the tip of my tongue was a story about John Spencer stomping through dinner theater to get to the studios upstairs (instead of using the side door). His band Pussy Galore was memorable; to make them a highlight of the talk, though, seemed off-point, even if John Spencer Blues Explosion did have some commercial success. Dennis Jay is still playing out west and is as talented and true to himself as ever. Many notable people (Dave Grohl when he was in the band Dain Bramage) passed through space early in their careers and continue to perform. It is undoubtedly worth recognizing them all.

Yet, there were also organizations within our community that deserved attention: Umbra group is one. Brian Tate was a particularly inventive performer and organizer with his own band, Brick House Burning, (as well as a group that played on six occasions using various monikers. Dot’s husband Charles was a member of that group.) Brian and I communicated often when he was working in the 9:30 club office around 1985. Some bands were being scheduled at both venues or would move up to the 9:30 club stage when their audience grew. Umbra group’s instigators included Leah Kerr, Reuben Jackson, Jackie Greenbaum, Barbara Rice, Barbara Robinson, Jared (Hendrickson) Louche and others who all enlivened the scene. Their collective, presented movies, poets, and multi-discipline events. The poets were a significant force who had great success; I will have to elaborate on them at another time.

Although I was unable to spin a clear story-line, there is an axiom in permaculture that ‘disaster is opportunity’. I am glad to have been propelled toward this opportunity by the Backstage event which spurred me to recall my past and call on others to share theirs. My experience assisting Bill for about seven years, while living within a continuous stream of artistic output, was expansive. A more eloquent and humorous recounting of the events and the infinite details that could be added would consume more time than I have. It would take years to write the story of the exceptionally gifted people who shaped this remarkable era. 

There are many perspectives on the history that are worth collecting, though, while we can still reassemble the fragments. All of our stories together would make for an exciting read! Ray Barker did a fantastic job piecing together the framework of how artists inhabited and transformed downtown. However, he left a very long list behind of oral history candidates yet to be recorded. RIP, Ray, and thank you for seeing who we were and what we represented. As Bill said in his talk, the tougher the times, the more artists are needed.
 
How can we collect, organize, and share our innumerable stories? Can we catalog the incredible number of performances?  And is it possible that a complete collection of d.c. space calendars might be held among us? I hope that others will share their experience of these very special times so we may create a collective body of memories.

Michele Casto started the punk archive at the MLK Library and asked me to spread the word that they want more material. michele.casto@dc.gov

Thank you to Cynthia Connolly for programming d.c. space to its conclusion. It was a great run! I met Cynthia via Joe Lally when he worked at d.c. space: Joe was the first to invite me to Dischord House in Arlington and introduce me to the many talented people there. Thank you to the Messthetics for your spirit and brilliance!

I am grateful to everyone at Backstage at the Sanctuary who helped with the event, I especially thank Lynda Cokinos and Mark Segraves. Be sure to check out Mark’s page and The After Dark Fund, which helps local musicians in need.

Special thanks to Bob Boilen for bringing me downtown and for helping me edit my story.