Rock hall strips away many myths
CLEVELAND, Ohio -- The skyline is like a stack of old Marshall amps, and downtown streets play the blues more than the pure pop of great Cleveland bands such as the Raspberries. Cleveland was never my first choice for the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame and Museum.
But when you parlay the rock hall experience with thrift store shopping, a used record store and dinner in the cozy Tremont section of Cleveland, the city makes for a fine weekend getaway. From the aqua blue welcome sign that you drive under along Interstate 80 to a sparkling Sputnik sensibility with the locals, Ohio seems perma-pressed in the 1960s.
So, before visiting the rock hall you have to hit Suite Lorain, 7105 Lorain Ave., (216) 281-1959, www.suitelorain.net, a vintage department store in a former bowling alley. The store includes art deco, classic corsets and lots of 1970s vinyl. An entire corner is devoted to Tiki paraphernalia. Looking for old wallpaper? Suite Lorain has it. Owner Cynthia Deering figures she has 160,000 items by calculating 20 items per square foot.
My traveling companion Lynn and I had dinner at Lolita, 900 Literary Rd., (216) 771-5652, in Tremont. I loved the juicy meatballs with tomato broth, Fontina, pancetta and pine nuts ($16). This was my tribute to rocker Meat Loaf. By coincidence we were at Lolita the same evening owner Michael Symon was being crowned as the Food Network's new "Iron Chef." The place was packed with 200 of Symon's friends and family. This was the weekend's highlight for Lynn.
Me? I loved seeing Alan Freed's ashes.
I covered the 1995 Labor Day weekend opening of the rock hall. (I'll never forget Bob Dylan and Bruce Springsteen dueting on "Forever Young" at the now-razed Cleveland Stadium.) I wanted to return to assess changes in the past 12 years.
The coolest addition is a brass urn containing the ashes of Cleveland disc jockey Alan Freed. With the blessing of Judith Fisher Freed, the estranged wife of Alan's son Lance and overseer of the Freed archives, the urn was installed in the hall's walls in March 2002. Freed's remains were shipped to Cleveland from a mausoleum in Hartsdale, N.Y.
Freed is one of the main reasons the rock hall is in Cleveland. On March 21, 1952, he emceed the Moondog Coronation Ball at the Cleveland Arena, regarded as America's first "rock" concert. From there he popularized the term "rock 'n' roll" from black "race" music. Freed went down in a payola scandal and died in 1965 of uremic poisoning. He was 43.
The rock hall was a dream of co-chairmen Jann Wenner, publisher of Rolling Stone, and the late Ahmet Ertegun, CEO of Atlantic Records. Wenner's imprint is still all over the place. He is a 2004 inductee (lifetime achievement, non-performer). Wenner made the complete Rolling Stone archives available to the museum, and he made news earlier this year when word got out he vetoed the 2007 induction of the Dave Clark Five (DC5) to the hall. He reportedly ignored final tabulations and chose Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five over the DC5.
As I toured the hall in mid-November, curator James Henke -- a former Rolling Stone writer and editor -- said he hadn't heard anything about the DC5 flap. But after my visit, the rock hall announced the Dave Clark Five would be inducted in March 2008 along with Leonard Cohen, Madonna, the Ventures and John Mellencamp.
My recent trip through "The Phantom Temple of Rock," as Mick Jagger termed the concept in 1989, began with a temporary Beach Boys exhibit, which will be up through the spring. The rock hall hits a home run with items including Brian Wilson's youth league baseball uniform from 1951. Items such as Wilson's Dodgers jersey and Jim Morrison's 1954 handmade Easter note to his mother strip away the myth of rock 'n' roll.
Further up the road, an area devoted to "Rock Style" is warmer than when the museum opened in '95. There's a black leather jacket from Slash and three funky outfits and boots from George Clinton. "About 80 percent of what we have comes directly from the artist as a loan or a gift," said Henke, a native of suburban Cleveland. The first item the museum ever received was the acoustic guitar (circa 1968) that the Who's Pete Townshend used to write "Pinball Wizard" and other "Tommy" material. The museum's mannequins weren't designed to look like specific artists, but when David Bowie loaned the museum some of his outfits he actually gave the museum a casting of his head.
More ch-ch-changes are in store for 2008 and '09.
"We don't have much out on progressive rock," Henke said. "There will be more on hip-hop and soul music. We want to make it flow more chronologically and be a little more thorough. We will include more heavy metal in the redesign. We get complaints there's not much metal stuff." Metal fans are some of the most avid in rock 'n' roll. Alice Cooper and Rush are two acts who have never even made it on a hall of fame nominating ballot.
Speaking of rejection, don't miss the rejection letters sent to U2. One is from Arista Records. Henke recalled, "At one of our induction ceremonies an emcee talked about our collection and he mentioned the letter from Arista. A couple of days later I got a call from (Arista head) Clive Davis asking, 'Who signed that letter?' " Billy Lawrie, director of A&R signed the 1979 letter to U2, addressed to "Dear Friends."
I bet Lawrie no longer works at Arista.
"When we opened we got feedback on how the museum was full of music but when people got to the hall on the sixth floor it was quiet with the [inductees] engraved signatures," Henke said. "We changed the hall of fame." Now there's a "Hall of Fame Theater" with three 20-feet diagonal screens and clips from induction ceremonies. The theater opened in 1997.
Before leaving Cleveland we stopped by Tommy Edwards Records, 5171 Wallings Rd., in suburban North Royalton, (440) 582-8863. The oldies shop with a few hundred vintage 45s is about 15 miles south of downtown on Interstate 77. I was attracted to the store because of the Tommy Edwards name, although this Edwards is no relation to the late soul singer who had the 1958 hit "It's All In The Game." This version of Tommy Edwards was a disc jockey who in February 1955 was the first to bring Elvis Presley to Cleveland.
Tommy Edwards Records has been in operation since 1962. After Edwards died in 1981, the business was purchased by Chuck Rambaldo. He's a former drummer who was also a union labor negotiator, good chops for the music business. 'If you're looking for local music this is the place," said Rambaldo, 58. "Of course you know the Raspberries. Sonny Geraci is iconic in Cleveland." Geraci was lead singer on the 1972 Climax hit "Precious and Few" as well as the 1966 Outsiders smash "Time Won't Let Me." And if you're not mindful, time will get away from you in Cleveland.
It's the city that rock 'n' roll will never forget.
There's a better way to make the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame a vacation destination. For more on that and insight on the hall's induction process, visit Dave Hoekstra's Scratch Crib blog at blogs.suntimes.com.