Everybody I've Met from Massachusetts is an A-Hole

"Everybody I've met from Massachusetts is an asshole," the pretty blond woman at Skipper's ticket area told me, after I informed her I was from the Narrows in the Bay State, a venue similar to Skipper's except that we're a non-profit and don't serve alcohol.

I told her that I was planning to do a write up on Skipper's, located at 910 Skipper Road, in Tampa, FLA.

After hearing I don't have a Massachusetts accent (due to my Midwestern upbringing and work in broadcasting), she suggested perhaps I wasn't quite the typical Massachusetts resident.

I assured her that, quite to the contrary, I was, and remain, very much an asshole.

"Is it because of the high taxes?" she queried, in a hoarse voice that was getting hoarsier as she tried to shout over the folkie group on stage, Halcyon, cranked mega-loud.

Yes, of course, it's the high taxes, I replied.

With the preliminary pleasantries now history, I found out her name was Ginny and, though she was working the door, she was not technically a Skipper's employee.

But it was okay, since she'd been hanging out there for twenty years. Possession is nine-tenths of the law, someone once said (maybe a lawyer) and Ginny seemed to see Skipper's as one of her prized possessions.

The wall of posters introducing today's blog shows that the Narrows and Skipper's, while a thousand miles and tons of alcohol apart, have a link. If you look closely you'll see stuff from Narrows' alums Chuck Prophet ("I love Chuck Prophet!" Ginny said, breaking out into his song "You Did," which has something to do with putting the bomp into the shooby dooby bomp), Fred Eaglesmith and Tony Furtado. There was even a poster for Roomful of Blues.

But then the similarities radically end. For example, Skipper's has a rather huge tree in its performance area, which is only partially roofed. The crew of Skipper's, of course, uses the tree to hang posters. I like to think we'd do the same at the Narrows if "super tree" somehow burst out of the firmament and violated our mill building's integrity.

Skipper's, unlike the Narrows, has a bar and restaurant. Not pictured is an ATM in the bar that now occupies a spot formerly home to a telephone that may or may not have been used for dopers looking to score. But that was a long time ago, maybe decades, and the ever-vigilant management apparently took action to stop patrons from abusing the premises thusly. I only bring it up because there's something poetic about an ATM replacing an (alleged) dope phone. Sounds like something in a Jimmy Buffet song.

A word about the Halcyon group, which had packed the place.

They appear to be a regional trio, with a lot of energy, stellar harmonies and a particularly lesbian following. That's why, according to the scuttlebutt I picked up hanging out, the place was doing so well business-wise that night.

The lesbian link was also probably why a patron came up asked me for whom I was taking photos. "Is it a gay or lesbian publication?" the woman asked. "No, just a blog," I shouted back. She told me that she was a photographer too but "always got permission before taking a photo." I mumbled something back about her being a better person than me or that I really wasn't much of a photographer and walked away, pretending I was busy with my equipment (a tiny Canon digital camera). Whatever happened to freedom? I mused, particularly since Skipper's may be gay friendly but it is not a "gay bar."

I got the point, though. And, being from the Massachusetts/Rhode Island area, I appreciated it, too: careful, because some of these women may still be in the "closet." That's why--sensitive blogger I am--I've avoided head-on photos of any patrons, except for Ginny who told me she was married to a guy.

Thanks to Ginny for showing me around, and thanks to everyone I ran into at Skipper's, which is a must-visit if you're into Americana roots music (sometimes still called folk) and you're passing through Tampa.

By the way, this Saturday, after your blogger's plane is "wheels up," Skipper's is celebrating its 25th anniversary. To mark the occasion, I actually reached into my wallet and bought this t-shirt: