ELECTRIC TOADSTOOL

From an e mail to GARY BURNETTE...

Hey Gary,

Thanks for the article;

it was a good backdrop to the scene.

You and I have memories more related to playing there, but being 60s guys, probably can't remember them!

A few things people nowadays (and myself) find unique/odd only to the toadh.

* the toadstool never had a p.a. nor lights--so bands plugged into whatever-imagine the sound!

* there were 3 stage locations; the one at the end of the room, seemingly the better(playing to length of the room) but was not as well liked? and didn't last long.

* only a few bands played the t.-no more than a dozen, probably only 5/6 that played there more than once.

* the toadstool was never really jammed-there seemed to be always a reasonable crowd, but never jam packed in

*admission went up later to $1.50, and then $2; always split 50/50 with the bands. When we broke the record I seemed to recall it was a $300 door, netting the band $150,but often we were good for $75-100.

*the toadstool never advertised !?! unlike today or even underground scenes like the Cavern/Fillmore that did hundreds of flyers for every show, we would do one-and put it in the club!

*though there was a military following, the crowd was high school/misfits--very little college crowd--with a college up the road and what was for most part a college type scene?

*one band played per night-never double billing

*this one seems most odd in retrospect, and so against the grain of the hippies times.. no bands ever jammed together, or sat in!!...

*bands were on good terms, but really didn't fellowship musically... David Atkins did sit in with us on some blues,-only time I remember

*in that short time we had Aiken, Griffin, Lambert all play about equal times; probably the most with Brad? who's organ as he didn't have one?

*....Todd, most remembered of members, only played 1/2 times? on the last stage, as I remember leaving our gear there/rehearsing the LP...stuff with Todd...we also did some as a trio and some acoustic.

*a funny one...before the opening, Buddy showed us around (flat black walls),

we were excited..he said we're gonna repaint some...

*when it opened it was all garish, outdated bad trip art, to which we said yuk, and insisted to dayglo lights be off when we played--our vision being more "organic"

****I did meet my wife there...

that's what I remember

MIKE GUTHRIE

Those who do not study history, etc.

by Gary Burnette

The
Electric Toadstool

To some, it was a public nuisance and a civic disgrace but to the faithful few, it was the home of true, live rock and roll shows for Columbus, the sleepy little mill town by the river. It was only in operation from 1969 through 1970. In the grand scheme of time, it was just a brief moment, a cool breeze in the hot, humid southern night, a tiny mushroom that popped up, only to be gone the next morning.
The club was located in an old brick storefront building on the 1800 block of Hamilton Road, just off what is now Veteran's Parkway. There's nothing there to tell what once thrived on that spot. It's almost as if the city wished to cleanse itself and only major surgery would do; all three shops (the club, its affiliate, The Hip Pocket, and an adjoining, unrelated shop) were completely razed and replaced by a parking lot. The little shops in that area had once long-ago served the Rose Hill "suburbanites" whose great homes lined Hamilton and Talbotton Roads up the hill. With the passing of time and the advent of the auto¬mobile, the shops were bypassed and fell into disuse, coming into the price range of young entrepreneurs who had little cash but big ideas.
When the club was open, there was a tiny, independent gas station up the street on the corner. During breaks in the music, the hot, thirsty audience would line up at the Coke ma¬chine outside the station and empty it within minutes. Until a machine was installed in the back of the club, there was nowhere else to go. The audience didn't mind; it was good to get some air, run up the street and feel young and free.
The club was cheap and homemade. Some of the fixtures were "liberated" from other, more profitable locations that, hopefully, wouldn't notice their absence. Nobody in the "community" had any money so they just "made-do." She who could paint, painted; he who could build walls, built. Everyone pitched in to have a dream together. Inside the club, the black walls sported day-glo paintings that glowed when the "black lights" (ultraviolet) were switched on. They were primitive, typically rambling, nonsensical "psychedelic" depictions

"...'Just a cool place to go, an amazing scene.
Columbus had never seen the like!
I wouldn't trade the experience for any¬thing."
-Johnny Greer, drummer for "Michael," c. 1970

dreamed up by young resident artists; 'kind of garish in a way, but not threatening, more light hearted and whimsical. The club's patrons sat on the floor on church pew cushions and the band stood against one wall, right before them, warts, wires and all, blasting away the tunes they knew. Eventually, a tiny stage was built to elevate the performers a few inches but the intimacy between performers and audience was never lost: it was always eyeball-to-eyeball.
Admission was set at a low $1.00 which anyone could afford and so the place would pack in a capacity crowd. Capacity was always an issue with the Fire Marshall as there was basically only one entrance and exit!
It took a certain amount of courage and insouciance to stand before an attentive crowd and play either your own songs or

"The best thing about it (the Toadstool) was the (chance for
improvisation) you got to go out on a limb and create."
Jay Vaquer, guitarist for 'Mary's Grave, " c. 1970

attempt to reproduce the tunes of the well known pop groups of the time; those who were making the records had the advantage of studio production, exotic instruments (melotrons, sitars, etc) and string and horn sections (As everyone knows, all of these effects are now available on almost any keyboard instrument), musicians at that time were working with bare bones gear. However, l do remember Arnold Bean playing the Beatles' Strawberry Fields Forever using only a cheap Italian made Farfisa organ, a Hohner electric piano and the usual guitar/bass/drums set up... and pulling it off pretty well, thank you!
We worked hard for the money and there wasn't much of it either.
One night, Arnold Bean broke the club's record, making a grand total of twelve dollars apiece.
At first, there weren't many bands around who could rise to the occasion but soon there were plenty of young players who aspired to. Musicians began to appear from hamlets like Richland, Thomaston, Auburn... Groups began to sprout up with names like Wild Goose, Promise, Choo Choo Wizard, the Mats;
something was happening here and it was a lot of fun
(forgive me if I left out your favorite band's name: those times tend to blur, don't they?).
In order to really "make a living" at music, some bands had to perform at Ft. Benning EM or Officers' Clubs, Victory Drive strip joints or, on the upscale side, country club society parties. Each of these venues required different dress and repertoire but they all shared the same demand, play "top 40" songs off the radio. That meant everything from Frank (or, horrors! Nancy) Sinatra to Glen Campbell or, for the younger set, the Monkees.
The Toadstool's musical theory was different; you could cover whomever you were able to cover plus you could play your original songs as well, 'Say you want a revolution?' There it was... The nearest feeling to it today would be Open Mic Night at the Loft (an entertaining option now springing up at other venues as well) where up and coming groups or solo acts get to show their stuff to an attentive audience.
The partnership of Stephen "Buddy" Cunningham (sadly, now deceased) and Bob Piper made it happen. Bob ran the "boutique" up the street called The Hip Pocket, selling jeans and other "hip" clothing and accessories. In the back, a small recording studio was even set up by local musicians/ engineers, ostensibly to produce

"I remember a sense of community, the new music, the bands. There was no drinking so the kids could come in; it was a sub culture!"
Ric Ulrich, then leather craftsman and all round bon vivant

demos of their songs. Buddy was the portly, jovial manager who reminded club patrons that they would be banished forever if they were found to be carrying illegal substances into the Toadstool. It worked for the most part because people were charged with responsibility for "their" club, It could all be lost in one sweep by the police. And, in time, it would be.
Drug usage (at that time, marijuana and occasionally, hallucinogenics) was a simply part of the climate. Experiencing the new sounds was enhanced when the bandwidth of one's perceptions was expanded. For a lot of people, drugs were also part of a spiritual quest, an exploration of the workings of their mind and its boundaries. On the negative side, the sixties, despite their press coverage, hadn't really been all that "swinging" when you counted up all the assassinations and Viet Nam body bags: the drug experience was simply an escape from the horrors everyday life, a hopeful, parallel universe. For others, unfortunately, drugs became merely a chic accessory, something to be consumed extravagantly or used to gain favor with others. Any public gathering will soon draw these types for the opportunity to show off, to see and be seen. "Dealers," seeing a ready made client base at the Toadstool, began loitering outside, selling various drugs. Although Buddy and Bob tried to keep them away, they couldn't control the situation. For some of the young people, it may have been their first or their only chance to sample this brave new world of rock and roll. Having no other sources, they bought drugs from these dealers, took them and went into the club for the experience. Eventually, the watchful eyes of the community and the police were cast upon the club and plans were laid. A pair of patrolmen began to make occasional inspections of the club, demanding that the music be stopped and the lights turned on while they scrutinized the patrons.

"It's a shame that now there is no underground,
alternative place for people in the 18-to-21 year age group;
Buddy provided a place for kids to have their own music then."
Larry Rose, bassist for "Neat," c. 1970

Finally, one night, the Vice Squad and the Columbus Police Department staged the major raid on the Toadstool.
An early warning device had been in place at the club from the early days so there was some time to prepare:
a blinking red light over the entrance booth always alerted the patrons as soon as the police cars came down the street. When the ten or twelve officers came in that night,
they had the patrons face the wall and searched everyone.
Most people dumb enough to have been "holding" had immediately eaten what they were carrying,
but one thoughtless young man simply dropped his on the floor and stood on it;
he was the only person arrested that night out of a crowd of well over a hundred.
I recall attempting to photograph the raid, only to have my camera and film confiscated (to his credit, the officer did return my camera).
Buddy's lectures had not been in vain, but they did not save the day; thus warranted, the city of Columbus refused to renew Buddy's business license and closed The Electric Toadstool.
It was 1970, a bad year. The dream was over.
The rock and roll business is a tough one to handle, whether you're a performer or a club owner, so the enterprising Msrs. Cunningham and Piper turned to the retail sales end of the trade. Along with a few other enterprising individuals, they created Hip Square (a bad pun on Columbus Square) on Broadway downtown.
The Hip Pocket was reborn, selling the hard to find bell bottom jeans and there were waterbed, jewelry and coffee shops, as well as the requisite "head shop."
The Electric Toadstool, that place with the funny name, now silly and dated, led the way for later, more mainstream businesses like the Loft, the Bradley, the Human Experience Theater and others (hope¬fully) yet to come to reinvigorate that forgotten downtown part of our fair city.
Many people still have happy memories of the old underground club simply because it was there for them when they needed it and it was truly all theirs.
There still has not been a successful effort in creating one for today's young people.
Perhaps today's youth would not be satisfied with such a "laid back" enterprise and require a great deal more excitement, i.e., more flashing lights, louder sound systems, etc., but I think that that's why things didn't work at the Bradley Teen Center or at Sneakers.
Maybe some young entrepreneur will create a place where the kids can go and be alright;
a place where they can be entertained intelligently, stimulated intellectually and encouraged to be responsible for their lives.
The club may change names but the idea is the same; to have places where Columbusites, young or old, can safely be with each other to enjoy life, creativity, food and song.

G.C.B.

Thanks Gary for that wonderful retelling.