Armando's Pulls The Plug

The Essential Roy Jeans: tip jar, a microphone, a can of paint.

The quote above the wall:

“The best sound you can get is in an intimate club room

where you’ve got four walls and the sound just bounces.

That’s the way this music is meant to be heard.”

– Bob Dylan

 "Tear Down The Walls”

Armando’s Pulls The Plug

by Jamie Jobb

Since my high school days in 1960s Miami, I’ve been a very lucky guy as far as easy access to great live music is concerned. Back then, my friends and I had The Flick coffeehouse across from University of Miami, and The Gaslight South, funky southern brother to the original Gaslight Cafe of Greenwich Village. Folks like Fred Neil, Gamble Rogers, David Crosby, Joni Mitchell, John Sebastian, Tom Rush, John Denver, Jimmy Buffett played those South Florida stages. We could watch them work up close, Neil was a marvel on his twelve-string.

Later, in school at Gainesville, I hung out with several local musicians who played the university’s rathskeller, not to mention front and back porches around town. We knew we were extending a fine Southern tradition of sonic hospitality in these home concerts.

After I left Florida for California in 1970s, I entered another world of live musical opportunity. In Marin County, I lived along a convenient cruise of over a dozen music halls spaced about a half mile apart – from the No Name Bar in Sausalito to Rancho Nicasio in West Marin. Then when I moved to the East Bay I had more great choice between Freight and Salvage in Berkeley and our local Musicians Coffeehouse up the hill from my home near Mount Diablo.

Bands born in San Francisco’s Summer of Love played together or in curious one-night stands any day of the week live on stages all over Marin and the East Bay in clubs that no longer exist: Knightsbridge, The Ark, The Barrel House, The Original Trident, The Lion's Share (or "The Share"), Euphoria, Charles Van Dame, River City, Uncle Charlie's, Ted's, Prince Charles Inn, Jean's Bit of Bohemia, The Blue Rock, Edgewater, The Cricket Club, Runway 5, San Rafael Union Hall, Black Oak, Old Mill Saloon.

After I moved to Martinez at the turn of the century, an odd storefront called “Mama’s Mercantile” slowly developed into the coolest night club I’d ever encountered. Mama’s certainly was the oddest business on the planet. It had no proprietor, but locals knew he could be found at the bar down on the corner, if you needed him. He sold only one thing: golf clubs. Used and unsorted.

These were displayed in large four-foot by four-foot cardboard boxes, stuffed there in no particular order. Thousands of golf clubs! You wondered if the owner hung out at driving ranges and collected all the tossed sticks of frustrated duffers leaving the facilities in disgust. Anyway, one day Mama’s was closed for good and something new started to sprout in its place.

Hard to tell what it was, though. In fact, the place seemed to change its looks every time we walked by with our dog. Was it an art gallery? A frame shop? An event and party space? Eventually the storefront got a name – for the grandfather of the proprietor – and a sign out front: Armando’s. The place remained a live house for musicians for over fifteen years.

I was so impressed by the shows coming out of the place that I produced a No Budget Film about it: “Quoting Roy Jeans”.

To make that motion picture, I vowed to spend no money – except for tickets and tip jar, as anyone would do to help the musicians remain working “professionals”. But we spent no money on travel or rooms or meals or any staff. We didn’t shoot on film. Used our own equipment. I got together with neighbors and we produced it all ourselves on YouTube. You may see the whole thing here, although the “documentary” currently is just the first four “takes”. A new fifth take will be added, which includes the last weekend’s performances and demolition of the venue’s walls …

We attempted to structure the project around the obvious visual clues that spoke to the spirit of the place. Roy Jeans, the emcee and a local legend, makes his living as a house painter. So, as he says, “I have a lot of paint.” Indeed, Armando’s was distinguished by the unique colorings found on every surface inside the club. So we broke down the interview into those obvious surfaces: the chairs, the door, the stage, the walls, the pole and the road. “The Road” is a local legend unto itself and that story is told in Take Four of the documentary.

Not every music hall has a “pole”. Armando’s put its to good use. Written on the side of the pole was this challenge to those on stage: “I’ll know my song well before I sing it” – a line lifted from the end of Bob Dylan’s “Hard Rain’s Gonna Fall”.

Anyone who knows Roy knows where these colors originate. From cans of paint he collects after a hard day’s work. Many cans have only a little paint remaining and it’s best to use it than to lose it. So Roy paints all the time, after work. He is a true “painter” who knows art history.  

Author's mirror-selfie: Armando’s stage, the morning after the last performance

One Man's Ceiling

Is Another Man's Floor

An on-going dispute with the landlord was at the root of Roy’s decision to close Armondo’s. He had hoped to hold out until July, when his lease ran out. But the landlord, a son of the original landlord who entered the lease with Roy, lived upstairs and was constantly battling Jeans, so Roy called it quits on February 9 when The Sunday Paper, a rockNfunk band filled the house with raucous merriment before the place went silent.

Roy allowed me to join him on Monday morning, February 10 to record the House in situ before a demolition crew was to start deconstructing the place. The best of those photos follow this essay.

The demolition itself was an incredible process to capture in camera, with the walls deconstructed one poster at a time. Hundreds of posters had been added over the years, and Roy wanted each one saved. Indeed, he began Armando’s as an underground art spot with framing and house parties. Many of his posters dated from that time.

Demolishing Armando’s took over a week and involved several volunteers – among them were Harlan Bailey, Thomas O’Brien, Chris Bryan, Lynn Quinones, Steve Ricco Bono, Belinda Godin, Daryl Schawel, Den Belicco, Gary Cockrell, Karen Stiles, Beate Bruhl, Eric Akeson, Brad Vicnair, Robert Perry and Bryan Walker. A handful of others helped but did not autograph the signup sheets, so we don’t know who they may be.

Also, Roy said this morning that he expects to resurrect Armando’s soon on-line, after he works out details. He’s aiming for something in May featuring an East Bay duo. Jeans should announce his first digital concert, a backyard affair for a special invited audience of eight couples separated by proper social distancing.

Watch for updates on the Armando’s website which is still active: https://armandosmartinez.com/. 

* * *

The Morning After

a photo essay

10 February 2020

by Jamie Jobb

The Morning After: out of habit, Roy wipes down tables for last time

Mismatched multi-cultural chairs will never fill this floor again

Backstage at Armando’s: the Paint Department

The Chairs of Many Colors piled up: for removal from The House

The walls of Armando’s had eyes, ears, noses, throats and banjos with legs … 

The walls spoke backstage – with run-on quotations

Every day something new ended up on the walls of Armando’s

Paint brushes never cleaned: artworks among themselves?

No Show in the Window: Armando’s closing night reflects the end

The back door to the bathroom: not a pretty sight

* * *

15 April 2020
(more photos to follow)