F ranco Gagliano’s cluttered home office serves as a veri- table shrine to the Phoenix music scene of the ’80s and ’90s. By the looks of things, the rock gods favor total chaos. Spectacularly strewn around the office are the museum-grade ephemeral remains of the Mason Jar, the hallowed rock club Gagliano owned for decades. Right now, he’s granting Phoenix New Times a glimpse of the inner sanctum of his central Phoenix condo. “So this is the castle,” Gagliano says in a thick Sicilian accent while making a sweeping gesture with his arm. “You look lost already.” Lost in Phoenix rock history, perhaps. Crammed in the closet are stacks of lidded boxes packed with old show fliers, band promo photos and newspaper ads. In a corner, an armchair holds piles of monthly planners and legal pads scrawled with Mason Jar gigs dating back 40 years. On the other side of the room a filing cabinet containing old contracts is topped by a pair of cowboy boots abandoned at the club by Alice Cooper. More of Gagliano’s treasures line the walls: a collection of colorful backstage passes. Autographed gold records — like the Gin Blossoms’ 1992 quadruple-plat- inum album “New Miserable Experience.” Most prominently, a grid of framed snap- shots of Gagliano at the Jar alongside rockers local and legendary, including Jon Bon Jovi, Rob Halford and Jason Newsted before he left Phoenix to join Metallica. Similar photos and records hung on the walls of the club, back in the day. Given the Mason Jar’s status, Gagliano has earned the right to boast. During its 26-year run, the club had other owners. But he remains its most iconic figure, as famous for miserly payouts to local bands as he was for gleefully serving 75-cent kamikazes. Opened in 1979 as the Mason Jar Lounge, a neighborhood bar on Indian School Road and 23rd Street that offered “excitable rock,” the venue became world- renowned soon after Gagliano took over in the early ’80s. As onetime New Times writer and Gentlemen Afterdark vocalist Brian Smith put it, the Jar was “a great rock ’n’ roll venue in the tradition of Max’s Kansas City, the Troubadour or CBGB.” Within the darkened interior of the long, rectangular rock bunker, early Phoenix punk and New Wave acts performed on a stage along the far end. Fans peered around inconveniently placed poles for a view or whenever dancing occurred during shows by Phoenix bands such as Blue Shoes and Billy Clone and the Same. Epic shows were the norm at the Jar, an infamous metal haven in the ’80s. Local acts like Flotsam, Sacred Reich and JFA unleashed an ungodly cacophony. Amps were turned up to 11. Hellacious pits ensued. Faces were melted. Illicit thrills were indulged in. After Gagliano got dialed in with booking agencies and industry contacts, a stream of up-and-coming artists graced the club’s stage. Red Hot Chili Peppers and Fishbone played their first-ever Phoenix shows in 1985. By the early ’90s, the Jar was hosting gigs by pre-breakthrough acts such as Nirvana, Tool, Pearl Jam, Green Day and Stone Temple Pilots. After Gagliano sold the business in 2000, the club featured future icons such as The Black Keys, Linkin Park, 30 Seconds to Mars and Fall Out Boy before each broke big. But the Mason Jar was more than a temple for devoted rock fanatics. It show- cased thousands of artists and bands, span- ning eras and genres: hip-hop, hardcore, ska, rockabilly, synth-pop. It offered refuge to its regulars and a platform for artists who came to drink, perform and lose themselves in the music. “Everybody played the Mason Jar. It was like our Whisky a Go Go,” says Patrick Flannery, frontman for veteran Phoenix metal act St. Madness. “If you were in a local band and your picture made it on those walls, it was a great honor.” Last month marked the 20th anniver- sary of the club’s closing. In May, the Rebel Lounge — which took over the property in 2015 — will mark its 10th birthday with a series of concerts, including performances by Mason Jar regulars Sacred Reich and Authority Zero. We’re celebrating the Mason Jar’s legacy with the following oral history of the club. While not a definitive chronicle — an nigh-impossible feat given the bar’s run — it’s a snapshot of its impact, its mayhem and the unforgettable moments that made it legendary, as told by the musicians, regu- lars and others who called it home. Origins of Mason Jar Lounge In 1978, the late Clyde Shields came to Arizona with dreams of easy cash. His plan? Open a bar. Michael Shields, Clyde Shields’ son: My father owned a concrete company in Chicago and wanted to move to Arizona and open up a bar. He’d had a friend who owned a bar with a band and (heard) there’s a lot of money in it and it was all cash. And you could do a lot with cash. Lose it, not disclose all of it. Stephen Chilton, owner, the Rebel Lounge: I know it had been various forms of bars and was the Branding Iron in the ’40s. The line I always use is, “Music has been in that building longer than rock ’n’ roll has been a thing.” Shields: Whatever it was, it needed work. Clyde put money into it, dressed it up and cleaned it up. Peggy Murphy Payne, vocalist and keyboardist for Blue Shoes: The place was kind of classy, kind of dark and had a very nice stage off the dance floor. Jack Burke, former Mason Jar patron: I jumped into Mason Jar in the fall of ’79 when Billy Clone and the Same basically had a residence. I’d never seen anything like it. I went in there and it was just swamped. A couple hundred people, all dancing. I was there the one night and then went every night. Glenn DeJongh, frontman and guitarist for the Spiffs and Urge: First time I was in there was in ’79. I’d started the Spiffs and we were playing Lil’ Abner’s in Tempe and drawing big crowds. I called Clyde and he goes, “You’re a Tempe band, I don’t need you.” He always blew me off. So I gave our crowds a piece of paper with his number and said, “Call and ask for the Spiffs.” A week later, he goes, “I don’t know what the fuck you did, but now I gotta book you.” We played there, killed it, line around the building and shit. Shields: I started working there when I was almost 19. I loved it, because how often does your old man run a very popular bar? I had a lot of good times. A lot of drinking, a lot of drugs, a lot of women, a lot of after- hours parties and I was a young kid. DeJongh: My band turned into the Urge and when Franco first walked into Mason Jar, it was packed. And so that’s when he decided to buy it. An early ’80s photo of the late Clyde Shields, right, who opened the Mason Jar Lounge in the late ’70s. (John Connolly) Franco Gagliano The Mason Jar sign in the mid-to-late ’90s for a show by Phoenix band Kongo Shock. (Barton Applewhite) ‘That Moment Was an Era’: An oral history of the Mason Jar Franco Gagliano’s infamous metal bar defined Phoenix live music for a generation. This oral history, from those who lived it, explains its enduring allure. by Benjamin Leatherman
