there, man. He goes, “No, I didn’t.” I said, “Right here. You might as well autograph the motherfucker,” so he autographed it. He would drink through a bottle of Bacardi. Every night he was there. One of the Mason Jar’s claims to fame was the string of future legends who rolled through starting in the early ’90s: Nirvana, Tool, Rage Against the Machine, No Doubt, Green Day, Melvins. Reardon: I think everyone’s seen that (YouTube) video of Nirvana at The Jar in 1990. Gagliano: (Krist Novoselic) had a broken leg at the time onstage. And they were fucking around and he broke a glass, because at the time we used jars. So you might see me (in the video) with a little sweeper sweeping the glass out. Buzz Osborne, guitarist and vocalist, Melvins: I remember one of the first shows we played there, I got propositioned by this bondage chick who wanted to take me home to her dungeon and I bowed out. I’ve watched too many serial killer movies, you know? Tool’s summer 1992 Phoenix gigs happened thanks to Gagliano’s ties with John Branigan, the band’s longtime agent. After partying together in L.A. in late 1991, including seeing Tool at their loft, Branigan booked the band at the Jar. Gagliano: He told me, “Franco, remember the band we were partying with? I think they’re going to be real big.” Anthony Savastano, Gilbert resident: The Mason Jar was a killer place. It was small but personable. Seeing Maynard (James Keenan) scream at like 20 or 30 people made it interesting. It was an intimate, crazy gig. The ’90s were a busy time for the Mason Jar. Every night was booked with local and touring artists from multiple genres. Jangle-pop acts from Tempe. Goth and industrial groups. Up-and-coming rock and metal bands. Sean Dowdell, drummer for Grey Daze: The very first show we ever did was an all- ages at 5 o’clock on a Saturday in ’92/’93. It was Chester (Bennington’s) first show he ever played. Flannery: If you played the Jar, it wasn’t just any other stage. It was special. And I’ll bet I played there 75 to 100 times over the years. It was an honor. Gagliano was notorious for stingy payouts. Novoselic even called him out at Nirvana’s 1993 Arizona State Fair show for charging the band for mic rentals years earlier. Gagliano: I’d say, “Hey, you know what, if you bring people, I’ll pay you so much. If you don’t, I remember.” If you have three people and say you’re going to bring 100 people, don’t expect me to pay for 100 people. And they go, “You fuck us. You fuck us.” No, I didn’t. I’ll pay you if you bring people. Smith (in 2000): For those bands labeling Franco a thief, consider this: His payout theory was always the most proven and correct one, the one used in cities like Philadelphia, New York and Los Angeles. If bands draw a crowd, bands make money. Simple. You just had to trust him on this. The turbulent 2000s In early 2000, Gagliano sold the Mason Jar business again, this time to Phoenix stock- brokers Michael Manfredi and Gary Steiner. For Gagliano, it was a divine mandate. Gagliano: God said, “Franco, you need to go to next direction.” I didn’t want to do it, up to the last minute. I was two hours late to sign it (over). Michael Manfredi, owner of the Mason Jar (2000 to 2005): I think Franco wanted to retire. He’d had (the Mason Jar) for 20 years and sold it a couple of times and it never stuck. Gagliano: Michael and his partner, Gary, made a lot of money on stocks and wanted to come in. I said, “I’m giving you guys this fucking gold mine here.” Manfredi: Honestly, the place needed a lot of upgrading. The beer was warm. The sound system wasn’t great, even though Franco thought it was the greatest. The club’s condition and issues between Manfredi and Steiner led the pair to sell the Mason Jar less than a year later to then-promoter Tom Gaffney and others behind the short-lived venue Web Theatre in downtown Phoenix. The club returned to Manfredi’s possession by 2001. He started over from scratch, promoting local bands. He also got help from powerhouse Phoenix rock station KUPD. Manfredi: KUPD brought us Megadeth and we didn’t even have to sell tickets. You had to call the station. It was kind of like an “(MTV) Unplugged” thing with tables and candles and it was a really big show. It put us back on the map. Stephen Chilton, as Psyko Steve Presents, had been promoting indie shows locally and was looking to expand. Chilton: I was doing small DIY stuff around town and then sort of elevated things after going, “Hey, here’s more of a venue.” I did a lot of great shows there for a couple of years at the Mason Jar. I booked an Avenge Sevenfold with Atreyu there, booked American Nightmare there. Manfredi: We got a good sound system and I got big touring bands to com’e in, some really big bands that went on to sell arenas. We did shows with Linkin Park and Papa Roach. Yeah, that’s right. In 2002, ’03 and ‘04, our last three years in business, we averaged 30, 35 shows a month. We were number one on Ticketmaster.com. We set all kinds of new records for attendance and for liquor sales. The Mason Jar’s success makes the bar’s abrupt closure on Feb. 15, 2005, a mystery. At the time, New Times reported a “rumored standoff” with Gagliano. But Manfredi says he simply chose to walk away. He sold the business and liquor license to Lynn Johnson, owner of defunct Camelback Road LGBTQ bar Harley’s Club 155. Manfredi: Honestly, I got married, had a baby. And the music was changing. It was starting to become really heavy into hip-hop. We did some hip-hop shows — Ice-T, Wu-Tang Clan … there were a whole bunch of ’em, but it wasn’t our thing. We had some hip-hop promoters that did those shows, but our thing was rock ’n’ roll and we were kind of getting too far away from it. Gagliano: I think it was too much for him. And then this lady, Lynn Johnson, (offered) him $200,000 just for the busi- ness and license. It was crazy. In 2006, the property became LGBTQ dance club Velocity 2303. In 2011, it became Anvil, a leather bar. The rise of the Rebel Lounge In 2014, Gagliano put the Mason Jar property on the market after Anvil relo- cated. Enter Chilton and local developer Chuckie Duff, who purchased the building, gave it a renovation and opened the Rebel Lounge the following spring. Chilton: Chuckie called me about it being up for sale and said, “We should do this,” knowing I’d booked many shows there and the history of the building was something we wanted to preserve and tap into. Dowdell: The Rebel Lounge has a nostalgia factor for going for it, like with the Whisky (a Go Go) in L.A. The Whisky’s a bigger venue, but when you play there, it has that provenance. When you walk in the door, you’ll be on the stage where Jim Morrison played. So this place, albeit smaller, has a lot of history for Arizonans and people who grew up in Phoenix. Chilton says the Rebel Lounge has embraced the property’s history over the past decade — including selling “Yes, we know this used to be the Mason Jar” beer koozies — while forging its own identity. Chilton: When we took it over, I was clear it was going to be a new thing. It was never going to be what the Mason Jar was. That moment was an era and that’s gone. We wanted to distinguish between what we are, but also that the history is there. It’s real. That Moment Was an Era from p 19 Phoenix punk band Beats the Hell Out of Me at the Mason Jar in the early ’90s. (Provided by Michael Pistrui) Phoenix metal band St. Madness outside of the Mason Jar in 1998. (Provided by Patrick Flannery) The Rebel Lounge has both embraced — and skewered — its property’s history as the Mason Jar. (The Rebel Lounge)
