Webster Hall Rallies

YOU MAY NOT believe it, but Webster Hall deserves more respect. Built in 1886, the space on 11th St. first served as a home for benefit costume balls thrown by East Village bohemians, the most prominent of whom include anarchist philosopher Emma Goldman and dada pioneer Marcel Duchamp. These parties, some of the first artist balls, were described by The Masses socialist writer and editor Floyd Dell as "spontaneously joyous and deliberately beautiful, focusing in a mood of playfulness the passion for loveliness." Costumed guests partied into the night, fueled by alcohol and free of inhibitions.

At the Blind Man's Ball in 1917, for example, Duchamp is reported to have climbed a chandelier, inspired by drink. It's unknown whether this was before or after artist Joseph Stella "challenged a man to a duel over the alleged undoing of author Beatrice Wood's virginity." Five years earlier, birth control advocate Margaret Sanger won sympathy for more than 100 Bread and Roses strikers, after leading the Massachusetts textile workers to the building.

In the 1920s, Webster Hall operated as a speakeasy, protected by bribes until prohibition ended in 1929, which the club celebrated with yet another ball, the Return of John Barleycorn. The club took on a bit more flavor in 1949 and began booking Latin stars such as Tito Puente and Tito Rodriguez; a Spanish paper described the venue as "muy popular entre los hispanos." Folk artists Pete Seeger and Woody Guthrie jammed there in the 50s around the time RCA Records took over, creating Webster Hall Studios and recording albums for Elvis Presley, Perry Como, Harry Belafonte and Frank Sinatra, as well as the musicals Hello, Dolly! and Fiddler on the Roof.

In the 80s, Webster Hall went Hollywood, making a brief cameo in Raging Bull before being rechristened the Ritz. The stage played host to concerts by Guns N' Roses, B.B. King, Sting, KISS, Tina Turner, Eric Clapton and others, and was apparently the first club in the world to incorporate video into concert performances. By 1986, rock 'n' roll stopped filling the house, and the bar became a tranny hangout, hosting weekly pageants and struggling to recapture its former bohemian glory-but failing to compete with smaller venues.

Enter the four Ballinger brothers, millionaire nightlife gurus from Toronto who completely restored the building-and the Webster Hall name. They "painstakingly re-created the original color schemes, ornate ceilings, staircases, balustrades, chandeliers, and 40,000 square feet of flooring" according to Webster Hall. Harry Belafonte recently returned, reflecting fondly on his previous performance, remembering only when spying the renovated interior. Even with these improvements-including top-quality sound, video and lighting systems-the venue, though popular, never captured clubland's imagination like rivals Spirit and Exit.

Pedigree notwithstanding, I lost interest in the club years ago. I've never cared about its goings-on, and only sometimes take a look as I stroll along 4th Ave. on my way to Union Square. It was bad enough that the banquet hall had been taken over by masses of unimaginative club people, and that its mainstream claim to fame was being the site of Madonna's 1995 pajama party, but soon pop acts like Avril Lavigne and Ashlee Simpson were prancing around in the century-old space-further reminders that just four blocks south, St. Marks Place had become so squeaky clean that a Quizno's was doing brisk business, and a chickpea restaurant opened in what used to be a pizza parlor next door to Continental.

With the unholy alliance between the club and promoting giant Clear Channel, I assumed New York City nightlife was over. Though not my favorite place, Webster Hall was nonetheless a last front fallen, a large, independent venue captured by the enemy. Clear Channel, after all, is populated by people who make their livings by "convincing the artist that having product partnerships is not always selling out," choosing to book acts according to their radio-play performance.

My worries were recently calmed by the unlikeliest source: the Bowery Presents, a new promotion company formed by the people who run Bowery Ballroom and Mercury Lounge. I'm hesitant to praise either of these downtown music clubs-notoriously elusive, often unfriendly, always unhelpful-but it's possible that Bowery Presents may actually undermine the citywide control that Clear Channel seeks.

In case you're unfamiliar with the international media monster, at last count the privately held Clear Channel owned more than 1200 radio stations, 37 television station and holds investments in 240 radio stations around the world. (This, according to ClearChannel Sucks.org.) Furthermore, Clear Channel "owns and operates over 200 venues nationwide. They are in 248 of the top 250 radio markets, controlling 60% of all rock programming." By the website's estimates, Clear Channel can claim more than 100 million listeners in the U.S.-and one billion worldwide.

After hosting a few last Clear Channel shows, Webster Hall will turn over exclusive booking rights to the Bowery Presents, giving them the freedom to hold concerts every night of the week if they wish, with only a few restricted dates. Live music on Thursday, Friday and Saturday's dance club nights will end at 11:30, but "no one will be hurried out of the venue, and patrons will be encouraged to stay," according to a Bowery Presents press release. One wonders if the indie rock and emo fans will enjoy mingling with Webster Hall's weekend regulars, who line 11th St. waiting for access to the trapeze acts, tarot card readers, singles auctions and wet t-shirt contests. We'll see when the Bowery Presents books their first gig in mid-August: a show by Sonic Youth.

While the change legitimates Webster Hall for those concertgoers with a conscience, it also enables the Bowery Presents to groom music acts. At present, the selective ears of bookers John Moore and John Beach choose the acts, occasionally, it seems, based on what they like and want to hear. The bands they choose often, and quickly, outgrow the small- and medium-size venues that cater to just a few hundred attendees. They hit the ceiling after selling out a venue as large as Bowery Ballroom and are forced to move on to Clear Channel venues, Roseland and Irving Plaza, in search of a larger audience. Motivated by "the desire to continue working with bands at the next level after Bowery Ballroom," Moore predicts, "With the formation of the Bowery Presents, we can then take them all the way to the Garden if possible... we will compete with Clear Channel, and we will do our best to succeed."

First the group will book a band at the 250-capacity Mercury Lounge until they graduate to 550-capacity Bowery Ballroom. If that goes well, they'll ultimately have the opportunity to offer 2500 tickets for Webster Hall. (The Bowery Presents will limit access to between 1400 and 1500 while improvements are being made, including improving the sound system to match the quality bands have come to expect from Mercury Lounge and Bowery Ballroom.)

Additionally, bands and their promoters appearing at Webster Hall will have more control over their live recordings. At Clear Channel venues, they forfeit many of their rights to the media giant. Using patented Instant Live recording technology, some Clear Channel venues offer concert CDs immediately after a show, preventing acts from using competitors like DiscLive.

I was pleased to hear rumors that Clear Channel's bookers were less than enthusiastic about this turn of events, though Cobb insists relations between the two are still positive. My interest in Webster Hall is renewed. If the Bowery Presents achieves their hopes "to book shows that will sell out," culled from the wide variety of acts that play at Bowery and the Merc, I'm optimistic Webster Hall may actually become a desirable venue for live music. That is, if I can get over the stigma of rubbing elbows with club kids when the band stops playing.