Around 1927, my mother thinks she remembers walking with her Dad from Mozart Place to the Ambassador Theater on 18Th and Columbia Road to see something new-"a talkie" featuring Al Jolson in
The Jazz Singer. Now flash forward forty years, and what Mom doesn't remember is that in 1967, the shuttered theater became the home to something new again-possibly the most amazing place ever to see a rock show in the history of this small town. I, unfortunately, was only about eight at the time, but over the weekend, yet another forty years forward, I went to a reunion of those who made it happen. Jeff Krulik our local film maker (and hero) helped bring these guys together from all over the country for this event.
In 1967 Tony Finestra, Court Rodgers and Joel Mednick were three young guys selling fire extinguishers of all things when they heard about the Summer of Love out in San Francisco. Out they went, and back they came to D.C. with ideas to make it happen here- the musical side of things anyway. They rented the Ambassador and booked The Grateful Dead. The Dead's equipment arrived, but unfortunately the city pulled their permit at the last minute and fought the project every step of the way. But our boys fought back and finally opened on July 28, 1967 with local band Natty Bumpo and headliner The Peanut Butter Conspiracy.
The Ambassador was an enormous space. All 1500 seats had been removed. The Psychedelic Power and Light Company took over the balcony and used multiple projectors and black lights to fill the room and cover the walls with colors and images that was a stand alone show of its own. Tickets were $1.50 on week nights, $2.50 on weekends. The mezzanine level boasted a head shop selling lava lamps, posters and well, you know, hippie stuff. What a scene it must have been. Not only was it a concert hall, but they tried to make a community center as well. Neighborhood kids were invited for special matinees- one involved a jazz band and a light show. It was also used as a staging area for the march on the Pentagon. Norman Mailer was there.
Jimi Hendrix needed work that summer. He'd been touring with The Monkees, but his style didn't quite fit that double bill. He ended up booked at The Ambassador for 5 nights that August-and Pete Townsend came to see him. (I'm not making this stuff up- ask Nils Lofgren.) This all happened here.
Canned Heat, Moby Grape, John Lee Hooker, Vanilla Fudge, The Fugs, The Paul Butterfield Blues Band and more all appeared at The Ambassador. Our own Joe Dolan of The Beatnik Flies mopped the floors there. His cousin, Patty made this hoe-down poster.
The sad thing is it couldn't last. It was partly a matter of bad publicity and partly the atmosphere of the times. (Even I remember how threatened people were by the hippie thing.) At the reunion, stories were told about police who gave parking tickets to legally parked theater goers. They also waited outside to arrest kids who had violated the D.C. curfew and scared them back to the suburbs. Plus it was a huge project to take on. The experiment ended about six months later. Sadder still the theater was torn down not too long after, and a vapid non descript plaza took it's place. Just last month a Jimi Hendrix tribute show came through town and played at Constitution Hall. Perhaps a better place to have it would have been there on that soul less plaza. It needs some life again.
The next time you are in Adam's Morgan, you might want to walk by there-and remember Jimi plus all the others that once played and worked there in that now gone place.
Remember the ghosts that once were dreams.
P.S. Speaking of ghosts: The Ambassador once stood on the site of The Knickerbocker Theater, but in 1922 the roof collapsed under the weight of snow. Ninety eight people were killed.
More From Nils Lofgren:
"The room was humming, not only with the expectation of seeing the Jimi Hendrix Experience, but that Pete Townshend was in the audience, and it was just an extraordinary pivotal night for me. Hendrix came out and said he was going to dedicate the first song to Pete Townshend and he was going to do a rendition of 'Sgt. Pepper.' Now being naive, and being a huge Beatles lover, a lot of us thought 'well, you're only a three piece band, how can you play 'Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band,' there's all these other guitars and strings.' We just didn't have a clue of what Hendrix was really about. He counted off the song and I remember he kind of disappeared, he just did one of those things where he fell to the floor, sitting on the floor rocking with the guitar between his legs kind of doing a 'Purple Haze/ Sgt. Peppers' riff, then he sort of bounces back up and does an insane version of 'Sgt. Peppers Lonely Hearts Club Band.' And when he dropped to the floor everyone just jumped up to try to see him, and from that moment on everyone was standing and mesmerized by obviously the greatest rock and roll guitar player that ever lived... There were just a lot of inspired moments like that at the Ambassador; it was this dark, beautiful, haunted, inspired room that you could go to and get lost in the light show and friends and the camradarie and the excitement of being in the audience discovering all this great new music; it was this real pivotal place in Washington, DC for all of the music scene, young and old."
More of Williamsburg. Today we had a nice lunch together. We were the only ones in the restaurant which meant the server could chat with us. Sometimes that is a nice thing, sometimes that is not so nice. It was ok today. Nathan commented on the great copper plated menus and he told us the guy who ordered them got fired over it. They were very pricey and he ordered 500 of them. Very strange, since maybe 100 would have been enough for this place. Ah, the things we learn from talking to people.
And for Jack and Diane:
Angels Landing from the beginning of the West Rim Trail. Scout's Lookout is in the foreground (that flat, sandy area). The trail ascends that small peak on its west side then climbs up the ridge of the second peak.
A full view of the east side of Angels Landing showing the 1200 foot sheer drop to the Virgin River flowing through the valley below.
I followed the West Rim Trail for about an hour when it took a decided turn towards the North. I looked behind me and saw an unmarked trail through the sand leading to a section of slick rock. Venturing off the trail I followed the slick rock to it's end, about half an hour or so. (Photo was taken on my way back, hence the change in lighting.)
There below me was the scene I was seeking. Walter's Wiggles and Angels Landing. I spent several hours just sitting there at the edge, looking down. It was a wonderful spot to have lunch!
By mid-afternoon, the sun had almost disappeared, clouds had moved in and the wind had picked up considerably. Reluctantly, I left my perch on the side of the canyon.
Walter's Wiggles from the first vantage point.
And from the second viewpoint.
The entrance welcomed me and I knew that I was in a very special place. Thankfully, it also had a campground!
The Stockett House and outbuildings.
The First Baptist Church.
Each building has a sign which provides a brief history.
The prefabricated house of Colonel Allensworth, delivered by railroad and assembled in 1911.
