I was knocked out recently to stumble upon your website about the Beaux Arts, which brought back a lot of memories and a surprisingly tangled mix of feelings. I frequented the coffeehouse between '67 and '69 – a relatively brief time, but a very potent one for me (yeah, and many other folks!). I think you know what a refuge that place was, back then especially, and the pivotal sort of things that happened for many of us there. For most of that period I was an art major at St. Pete Jr. College, until Music grabbed me full-time. I recognize a few names in your lists: musicians Bill Wasel, George Johnson, Neiman, Stanley Powell, Don Couch; and recall a few other friends that I don't see there: Richie Capps, Cheri Kalais, Jim O’Dell. And then there are those faces I remember without names to go with them, or only half a name… ( __ Stack? __ Beemer? Nancy __? Susie __?). Sorry I don't quite remember you, Mari, but it sounds like we were there in the same time period, so we must have crossed paths. Of course I remember Tom Reese well – he was one of a kind. I knew Bill Wasel enough to drop by his place a couple of times. George Johnson, when he moved out of St. Pete, coaxed me into taking over his guitar students at Sanborn’s Music, even though I had zero experience in teaching music. (Thanks, George, that turned out to be the beginning of a good side-occupation for me.) Don Couch and I played a lot of music together, at the coffeehouse and beyond. Most of those on your lists are people I never knew, who came before or after me. But it's great to learn that the original Beaux Arts kept going all that time after I left St. Pete -- I heard in the ‘80s that it had burned down, and thought that was the end of it. (I'd moved out west and rarely got back to Florida.) When I think about the many, many folks who hung out at the Beaux’s just in the short time I was there, undoubtedly many hundreds more -- thousands, even -- were affected by the place's vibe over all the years. Some clips from my memory bank: the creaky wooden-ness of the place, and it’s special smell… the strange foreign films and art on the walls… Tom, and his Mother… the mix of young troubadours (and occasionally bigger names) that performed… playing on that stage myself, or jamming off-stage with various folks, either in back rooms or out in the jungley garden… the shared partaking of something hand-rolled, illicit and mind-shifting (maybe in a dark corner of the garden, or more likely off the premises, taking a drive around the block)… just hanging with fellow regulars in the hallway or back porch on a busy weekend night, observing the flow of characters… and the banter and conversations – funny, perceptive, foolish, inspired or too-stoned -- that bubbled out of the free-wheelin’ creative ferment at the Beaux Arts.

I am actually in one of the photos on your site! You have a page about singer-songwriter Danny Kalais, with a nice eulogy by Llyn French. In the middle photo (the songwriting award) that's me with the grin, between Danny and the fellow in the hat. Don’t believe I ever saw that picture before. I performed at the coffeehouse with Danny numerous times -- my first taste of playing in a real music venue with a listening audience. Once we briefly formed a group at the BA comprised of four guitarists: Danny, myself, a delta-blues picker/singer named Doug (I think), and a big friendly bear of a fellow named Tom (Bechet?) who played nylon string, wrote some quirky tunes, and always hated to go back to MacDill AF Base, where he was stuck in the service. Harmonica-man Don Couch rounded out the line-up. The interesting but unwieldy combo lasted two shows, at most.

For a short spell in ’69 I resided at the coffeehouse, sharing the little cottage behind the garden with Danny and his wife, Cheri, while we got it together to take our music on to bigger things beyond Salt Petersburg (as Dan called it). I slept in their VW camper parked out back. With buddy Don Couch along to blow harp, we migrated first to Miami and then to San Francisco, pursuing the muse and some pipe dreams (literally). Lots of stories there... In Miami (Coconut Grove) we put together two short-lived folk-rock-ish bands, with drums, amps, the works -- there was even a cello and a “chick singer” in there for awhile. Danny was the lead singer and rhythm guitarist, I handled the second-guitar fills and solos. Mostly we did Danny’s repertoire of originals and re-invented classics; I wasn’t singing much in those days, contributing maybe a couple of tunes to the set list. We went back to the acoustic format in the SF Bay Area, where we played bars, coffeehouses and the streets. Eventually, inevitably, we hit bottom and went our separate ways…

I landed next in Santa Fe, NM, where I developed skills as a solo performer; later I lived and played music in Mendocino and Santa Cruz, Calif., then in Washington, DC, for a couple of years. I continue to this day as a performing guitarist, singer, songwriter and music teacher (also playing and teaching mandolin, bass, banjo and ukulele) in and around Santa Barbara, Calif. Mostly I’m playing acoustic guitar and singing folk, blues, swing tunes, all kinds of oldies, plus my own songs; I also play Stratocaster in a rockin’ Zydeco band.

Except for one somewhat awkward phone call maybe 15-20(?) years ago, Danny Kalais and I had not kept in touch, so until I read it on your site, I hadn't known of his death in '96 -- too young.

Details aren’t given, but sadly, knowing that Dan lived with some real inner demons, I don’t imagine he passed from this world in an easy way. The site also informed me of Tom Reese’s passing, George Johnson’s, Bill Wasel’s, and that of Eric Von Schmidt. I like to imagine they’ve established a branch of the Beaux Arts in the afterlife. I was always a Von Schmidt fan over the years, and remember well the time Danny and I made the pilgrimage down to Eric's house on Siesta Key, where he kindly welcomed us and we talked randomly of music, guitars, and the music biz, and traded a few blues riffs.

That’s about enough of my recollecting for now – feel free to use or post as you like. It appears that the website has been up for a while; I wonder if you are still adding to it and working on the book – or is it finished? I can share with you some St. Pete newspaper clippings promoting a weekend-long gig Danny and I played at the Beaux’s as a duo. I think it was just before we made our move to Miami. Tom Reese had the idea to hype up the show, saying in the ads and press release that we were on a national tour. That was a laugh (and still is). And Tom wanted us to have a name for our duo, so Danny said he could call us “Captain Spiffy and Dirty Dan”, a couple of nicks we had joked around with. Fortunately the name did not stick. Those newspaper clippings are the only physical artifacts I have from my Beaux Arts days. Wish I had more photos to match the still-strong, yet hazy, images in my memory...

My thanks to you and all who are keeping the Beaux Arts and its stories alive!

Michael Frey