John Thompson on the sidewalk in front of the
Sassy Cat Lounge, Selden and Woodward, on Thanksgiving
morning, 1978. John provided an amusing site for parade-goers
that year.
Photo by Carol Lynch |
Let me begin by saying that any true history
of the Cass Corridor cannot truly be complete unless
there is a prominent section devoted to John
Thompson. Across the years and across the “tribes,”
John Thompson was known to everyone and anyone
who frequented Cass Avenue and the surrounding
enclaves.
My memory of John is that of an adventurer who
is at once both soulful and scrappy. His dark adventures
are many, but more plentiful still are the countless
occasions in which he extended a helping hand to someone
in need. I know of no other person who loves his
city and his community as much as John and who
demonstrates this love in such a creative and consistent
manner.
So strong is his association with Cass Avenue
that John once referred to anyone who lived outside the
Corridor as being a “suburbanite.” It didn’t matter if
you lived just north of the Boulevard – according to
John’s Geography at the time, you were a resident of
the suburbs and fair game for his good-natured scorn.
John can inspire laughter. John can inspire
drunken excess. On a good night at a good bar in the
Corridor, John could often inspire both simultaneously.
It was always fun to watch John create his magic.
My initial encounters with the Cass Corridor date back
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Carol Lynch, 1977
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to the late ‘60s, beginning at Mixed Media, the one-stop shop for
all our counter culture needs. There I discovered my first
underground comix books, those bizarre little publications which
would have a profound and lasting effect on my life. Years later I
became a Corridor resident, experiencing a variety of living
arrangements on Fourth Street, Prentis,
and finally on Selden near Cass during the late ‘70s. I went to
Cobb’s, Alvin’s, the Song Shop, and ultimately became the gal
who collected the cover charge at the door of the New Miami. This
likely places me in the New Miami Tribe.
During my stint as the cover charge gal, I met an incredible array
of people who spoke to me of their dreams, their loves, their
heartaches, and more. I was, after all, a captive audience sitting
there at the door all night. But I didn’t
mind. Where else in life could you meet such an interesting cross
section of Detroiters who would entrust you with the intimate
details of their lives? The Miami patrons of that era were a truly
diversified lot and “boss man” George Rupert was the great
chieftain of the legendary watering hole and
tribal gathering ground.
Jay and Carol Lynch dining at an
embarrassingly overpriced Chicago restaurant, 1999.
“This place is certainly no Chris and Carl’s,” said Jay
with remorse as he fondly remembered one of his favorite
Detroit dining experiences.
Photo by Michael Gidwitz |
I stitched my own hopes and dreams to
the nightly fabric of stories woven at the New Miami. Life in the
Corridor could be tough at times, but it also offered a strong sense
of family for both aspiring and accomplished artists. Everybody was
everybody else’s favorite artist, poet, musician, writer or
dancer. This was a good place to take a first (or fiftieth) step
into the arts and it was here I began my journey on a path that
continues today. There were many talented people who frequented the
Corridor during the same era, but one of the best and most inspiring
artists I ever met was the amazingly talented Roy Castleberry.
Castleberry acknowledged the nurturing and creative environment of
the Corridor, but he cautioned that it was wise to remember the
world which existed beyond Cass Avenue. That outside world, he
explained, often held our lives and accomplishments to a much
harsher standard of measurement . It was important to remember, he
said, that one’s peers will rarely be as generous and supportive
as they are in the Corridor. As I traveled through time and across
the miles, I soon discovered that his advice was – ouch! – so
very, very true. Ultimately, I left the Corridor and explored the
world beyond, living on both coasts and a few places in between. And
although it’s been a good long while since I’ve enjoyed Corridor
Camaraderie, the area will always hold a prominent place in my
heart. One final note: a special thanks to Robin Sommers for selling
me that first issue of Bijou Funnies at Mixed Media so many years
ago. Contained on the pages of that little comic book was the
artwork of the man whom I would ultimately wed. (The next time
someone tells you they’ll “see you in the funny pages”, please
consider that they might actually be serious!) Best wishes to
everyone!
Carol Lynch lynchworks@earthlink.net
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