Here – Twin Cities Music Highlights

The Here was a folk club located at 818 Washington Ave. SE.

THE BUILDING

The history of the building is a bit confusing, as the permit cards specify that it was two buildings in the beginning. One of them must have been demolished at some point.

In 1905 it was the site of Ye Olde Tyme Bakerie, one of five locations.

In 1906 it was John Flygare’s Restaurant.

From 1907 to 1909 (and perhaps longer) it was the Oak Cafe.

In 1928 to 1930, Rose Sabesewitz ran a grocery and meat market.

In 1931, D. Sudit had a license for a grocery store.

In May 1933, Hubert Irsfeld either applied for or obtained an on and off-sale beer permit, just over a month after Prohibition ended.

In July 1933 the cafe was for sale: 12 booths, a 9-chair counter, and a license for draught beer.

From August 29, 1933, to September 11, 1945, Leonard Vrooman ran Leonard’s Cafe.

THE GRIDIRON CAFE

From September 1947 to September 1959 the building was home to the Gridiron Cafe. When it went up for sale it had 11 booths and 13 stools.

1961 Image courtesy Hennepin County Library

THE HERE

The first notice picked up in the Minneapolis Tribune was for a reading of Dylan Thomas’ “Under Milk Wood” by eight college drama students, August 24 and 25, 1962. At the time, the place was identified as the Here Gallery Cafe. (Minneapolis Tribune, August 17, 1962). We find out later that it was owned by Mel Lasley. (Jon Bream, Minneapolis Star, December 16, 1975)

On December 7, 1962, the Greenwood Singers were scheduled to play.

On January 13, 1963, the Minneapolis Tribune announced that Here was holding a contest for local folk singers, singles or groups, Monday through Thursday nights. The prize was a week’s booking at the coffeehouse.

On April 26, 1963, Brian and Paul were scheduled to perform. (Minneapolis Star)

From the May 22, 1963, column of Will Jones, who quoted “blues singer John Koerner:”

This weekend the owner of the Coffee Break (where I work) and the Here is bringing Big Joe Williams to the Here on Washington Av. just down from Oak St. Williams is one of the few remaining and one of the best Negro country blues singers. Between his sets myself and my two companions in blues singing, Snaker Dave Ray and Tony (Little Sun Glover, will do some of our own work, party to plug our soon-to-be-releasd album on the Audiophile label. The record should be out in a week or two and will be called “Blues, Rags and Hollers.” (Minneapolis Tribune)

Will Jones’ interest in The Here continued; from his column of August 30, 1963:

For any adult who finds himself upset by a visit to Teen Danceland at the State Fair, I’d suggest another stop as an antidote. This would be a Sunday-night visit to The Here, a near-campus coffeehouse on Washington Av. at SE Oak St.

The Sunday night attraction there is a group called Mike, Debbie and Denny. Mike, the leader, diffidently explains that they don’t call themselves folk singers, but singers of American ballads. The voices are young and sweet, the seats comfortable, the coffee good, the atmosphere serious, the crowd and performers agonizingly young. They even look faintly embarrassed by the bold words to “Samuel Hall.” But it is a soothing, doubt-erasing experience that helps to answer some of the questions about the capabilities and future of the generation that may be raised by visits to other hangouts of the young.

REV. GARY DAVIS

On Friday, November 22, 1963 – the day of President John F. Kennedy’s assassination – Don Morrison’s review of a show by the Rev. Gary Davis at The Here appeared in the Minneapolis Star. Most of it had to do with Davis’ performance, and that he would be there through Sunday. He did not write about the venue, unfortunately. He did opine that the “current folk song binge has set many teeth on edge, including mine,” because “the dead hand of the music industry promoter-packager-peddler is all too evident and because most of the self-identified folksingers are too young to remember John L. Lewis, let alone John Henry.” But he described the show as “delightfully ramshackle.” (Minneapolis Star)