by David Budin

Spider-Man, Kitty Kitty Kitty, and the Mammals

Once, when I worked in the music business in New York, a guy came in to audition at the label for which I was producing records. After his audition, which showed some potential, he said, “Well, I know it’s just a matter of being in the right place at the right time.”

I said, “That’s true, but in order to be in the right place at the right time, you have to be someplace at all times.”

And that’s also how to get the most out of living in Cleveland. It’s big enough, and it’s small enough; so you have to take advantage of the opportunities it offers.

Part 1 – Uncrowded

I was excited to read the promotional materials about the Spider-man Community Wrap Party that was being held on what was originally supposed to be the end of the last day of shooting street scenes for Spider-man 3, Sunday, April 30. The idea – which was a good one – was to invite all of Greater Cleveland to come and look at how the movie production company had transformed Euclid Avenue by filling in the empty storefronts with what looked like signs of life.

I drove downtown, worried that I wouldn’t find a place to park anywhere near the House of Blues area, where the party was centered, because of the crowds. I kept driving and driving until I was all the way there, and I parked right on Euclid Avenue, across from the House of Blues – because there were no crowds. There were hardly any people at all, and not much of anything going on.

But at least I could take advantage of those advertised party specials at Vivo, the House of Blues Restaurant and Pickwick and Frolic. I walked up to Vivo, but they weren’t offering any specials. I could tell that without even going inside. In fact, the only way I could have gotten inside would have been to break in. The place was closed; maybe they hadn’t received the promotional materials.

But, as I was standing in front of the place – and as always happens in Cleveland, if you’re in the right place at the right time, which, as I said, means being someplace at all times – I ran into some old friends, Gary and Laura Dumm. They’re both exceptional artists. Gary is probably best known for his work on Harvey Pekar’s American Splendor comics. Laura works on those, too, as a colorist. They had come to the “party” with some friends, mainly to look at Laura’s paintings that filled the windows of a fake movie-set art gallery, east of 9th Street, called Kitty Kitty Kitty. The paintings were colorful, whimsical, surreal pictures of cats that made me really wish the place were an actual gallery so I could go in and buy one of her pieces. Or, you know – look at them and wish I could buy one.

Gary and Laura couldn’t help but notice, as I had, that Vivo was closed, so they decided to take advantage of the specials at the House of Blues and I tagged along with them. Apparently no one at the House of Blues Restaurant got the memo, either, because, unless our server was wrong, they offered no specials. The meal was fine, but, I mean, no Spider-Man soup or anything like that, and no special prices. The Dumms had checked out the bands that were playing a free show at HOB as part of the party, but they said there weren’t many people there, either.

It’s possible that the third listed restaurant, Pickwick and Frolic, did offer specials, but when we left HOB, it was getting dark and I wanted to see some more storefronts – and, of course, I’d already eaten – so I didn’t inquire there.

As I was leaving HOB, I ran into Kate O’Neil and Kevin Kerwin, who were sitting and eating outside the restaurant. He’s a movie director and she’s a producer. They moved back to this area, where she’s from, after living in New York for several years, and they’ve launched a plan to fill Euclid Avenue’s empty storefront windows with local artists’ works. They received a Civic Innovation Lab grant to start Exhibit Cleveland. The idea dovetailed nicely with Sony Pictures’ plans to film on the street and make it look like New York, so they coordinated the project with the film company.

I didn’t stay and talk to them, though. I had to go check out Laura Dumm’s cats before dark.

Part 2 – Half-crowded

I’ve been waiting since the Cleveland Indians’ announced their 2006 schedule go to one of their rare weekday afternoon games. So I got my ticket for the May 2 game – for half price, with my Giant Eagle card (you can find more games like that at www.clevelandindians.com), and I picked a seat where I knew the sun would be shining, because even though I usually avoid that kind of thing, I’m going to Los Angeles in a few weeks and I thought that I should try to look not quite as ghost-like as usual. It was nice to see that the place was about half full, at noon on a weekday.

Soon after I sat down, in the third row, right behind Casey Blake (I mean, he was standing in right field – not sitting in the seat in front of me), it started raining and continued to rain for the entire game, which they continued playing. For a while I stood behind the last row of lower reserved seats, somewhere between home and first, which actually gave me a much better view than the seat I bought.

But then I got hungry. I checked out the sushi stand, but chicken teriyaki cost $8, and while seaweed salad was a lot more affordable $4, it was still seaweed salad. I noticed that some food places offered regular hot dogs for $2.50 and others had kosher hot dogs for $4. I guess it’s the beef-verses-pork thing. And they do taste better.

I went to a Strickland’s Market Treats stand and I was looking at the menu board when a woman who worked there extended a tray of peanut butter cookies and said I could take one for free. I must have looked to her like a four-year-old. Or maybe a homeless person. Or maybe it was a promotional thing. Or maybe they’re just nice there. Whatever it was, I immediately bought another one. So I guess I am like a four-year-old, but with some money in my pocket.

I went to some other Strickland’s stands to see if anyone else would give me a free cookie, but it didn’t happen, at least for the first three times. But then at the fourth one (I was determined; and it was raining), I ran into my old friend, the always-dapper Arlen Narten, who seems to be managing the Strickland’s places at the Jake. He’s actually my daughter’s friend, but it makes me feel younger to say he’s my friend. We talked for a few minutes and then he told the guy behind the counter to give me a free cookie. So, see? – right place, right time/someplace, all times. Now do you believe me?

Part 3 – Crowded

It was gratifying to then go to a place that was packed with people. The next night I went to the Beachland, where the Mammals, a great group I saw last summer on the big stage at Cain Park (opening for Arlo Guthrie), was playing in the relatively tiny Tavern. This was an opportunity I couldn’t pass up. And you shouldn’t, either, really, if you see that someone you’re even a little bit interested in is going to be there (www.beachlandballroom.com). While the Beachland Ballroom can hold up to, maybe, 600, the Tavern – with a combination of tables, bar stools, chairs and standing room – looks like it can hold about 100. And the stage is, like, right there – you’re never more than a few feet from it.

The Mammals is a young quintet from Woodstock, New York, that plays folk-influenced rock and rock-influenced folk. All five are talented, but two have pretty impressive roots, including singer and guitarist-banjoist Tao Rodriguez-Seeger, the grandson of one of the most significant figures in all of pop music history, Pete Seeger. The Beachland Tavern is the kind of place where the performers hang out when they’re not on stage. That could be because there’s no backstage, but I’m not sure about that; I do know that the place is really conducive to that. I hate to sound old, but that’s the way clubs were in the late ‘60s – or, uh … so I’ve heard.

Anyway, before, during and after the set by the opening act, a very young and very good bluegrass(ish) group from Virginia, King Wilkie, all of the Mammals were hanging out in the Tavern. And after their own set, I talked to most of them, because the Beachland is the kind of where you can do that. Thus, of the four times I’ve seen this band live, this was the only time I’d had the opportunity to talk to the group’s Ruth Ungar, who sings, writes and plays mainly fiddle. I wanted to tell her that I had been in a group that played a few times on the same bill as a band that featured one of her close relatives. That’s all you need to know.

Okay – if you must know, it was her father. So, yeah, again, it made me feel older than I’m comfortable with. But it also made me feel a connection with my past. Her father, Jay Ungar, was in the band Cat Mother and the All Night Newsboys in the late ‘60s. But he’s become best known for writing and playing the haunting fiddle tune “Ashokan Farewell,” which was used as the theme for Ken Burns’s massive PBS mini-series The Civil War; and he performs with his wife, guitarist Molly Mason.

You take your chances when you tell people stuff like that; like when I told Jeff Buckley that I had known his father, folk-jazz singer Tim Buckley. Jeff was nice enough, but he said, “I didn’t really know my father,” and clearly wanted to talk about other things. But Ruth responded much more positively and even told her band mates about it. I bought one of their CDs and I’m not embarrassed to admit that I was not embarrassed to ask the group to autograph it. Four of them were in close proximity, but Tao Rodriguez-Seeger wasn’t right there.

I looked around and found him sitting at the bar. Tao appeared on stage for several years with his iconic grandfather and actually made it possible for Pete Seeger to continue playing for audiences that much longer – which would give Tao his own place in pop music history, even if he weren’t a great musician in his own right, with a long career ahead of him. But there he was, talking with people, sitting at the bar, nowhere near downtown.

And that’s what makes Cleveland really cool.

Image by Darren Constantino (:divend:)