The day the music lived
Patrons rise to Byron Stuart’s aid to preserve Iowa groove shrine
Over $6,000 raised to keep Pomeroy bar boogying
By Art Cullen
Byron Stuart has reason to celebrate New Year’s Eve, not for the money but for all that love.
He is the owner of a funky little bar — Byron’s Bar, of course — in downtown Pomeroy that is a legend in Iowa music circles for giving succor and an appreciative audience to starving road minstrels over the past 21 years on early Sunday evenings.
The bar has been having a bit of a hard time this year. Another bar opened in the town of 600 in July. Byron has felt it in the cash register. It stings. Plus, his building dates to 1893. The roof was leaking. If you set a pool ball on the floor near the bar it will roll into the bathroom on its own.
So it could use a little work.
That’s where Byron’s friends came in. Ree Irwin of Sac City and Roger Feldhans of Pomeroy made copies of Byron’s face and transformed them into masks. They put them on a popsicle stick and sold them. On Halloween, Amelia White and Sergio Webb of Nashville played while the crowd dressed like Byron in tie-dye shirts and pastel-color overalls and held their masks. Byron was overwhelmed with a $2,000 contribution.
“It brings me to tears just talking about it,” Byron said.
“But it was the best-looking crowd I have seen.”
Then, in late December Byron’s friend Todd Partridge of Auburn — front man for the band King of the Tramps — organized a social networking fundraiser on the Internet. The goal was $5,000. As of Wednesday total contributions topped $6,000. In just 10 days.
Musicians from all over the nation sent in donations. Bruce Katz, who played keyboards for the Allman Brothers Band and for the Butch Trucks Band, chipped in along with dozens of others from Austin to Boston to Nashville.
Byron received contributions from people who had never even been there. One man from Houston, Tex., sent a check for $815 when he heard that the drive was $815 short of $5,000. He had never met Byron, but the man’s brother is a regular for the Sunday shows.
“I’m living the dream I never knew I had,” Byron said.
Never did he think, working on the family farm just out of Iowa State University, that he would be listening to the great Woodstock band Canned Heat in his bar for his 50th birthday. They called him, asking if they could play Byron’s. They heard that it was the groove center of the world from another musician who played there. For $500 and a motel room in Rockwell City, Canned Heat rocked Pomeroy.
Byron had sort of been knocking around the greater Pomoeroy-Knoke region when the bar came up for sale. He took it over and shortly thereafter friend Larry Myer of Havelock suggested that he could play there. Byron said okay. Myer introduced him to Rob Lombard, another Iowa musician who played the place. All the while Byron was decorating with photos of Jerry Garcia, memorabilia of the Grateful Dead and tie-dyes by Roger.
It became “the hipness center of the universe,” in the words of keyboardist Katz, who also had heard about Byron’s from his home, actually at Woodstock, and asked Byron if he could play there. You could have knocked Byron over with a feather boa, which he has been known to wear.
The thing snowballed. What was an occasional music gig turned into twice a month. This year Byron has had 61 shows — most of them from 5 p.m. to 8 p.m. on Sunday, and a few on Saturday nights.
His roster of artists is a list of rising stars in Americana music, bluegrass, funk, folk and even ragtime. Todd Snider, the reigning king of alt-country, played there in 2001. Freakbass out of Cincinnati played there this year, and is considered one of the hottest acts in a resurging funk/soul scene.
“It’s the vibe,” Partridge said of why musicians go so far off the beaten path go get to Byron’s. “You walk in the door and everybody is tuned in to what you’re doing. You can’t really put your finger on it. And, he treats the musicians so darn nice.”
Partridge said many of his patrons and musicians suddenly realized, “Wow, we could lose this place if we don’t help him get over this hump. This place is in our back yard. It’s personal for us. I don’t think another place would pop up in Northwest Iowa if Byron’s weren’t here.”
Indeed not. For Byron, it’s a labor of love. He considers it a victory when he can clear $100 from one of his Sunday shows. It’s not exactly a drinking crowd.
“They come here to listen, not to get drunk and talk,” Byron said.
They are doctors, bankers, lawyers, hermits, bikers, professors, hippies, farmers, women in peasant dresses, men in stovepipe hats, politicians and castabouts.
They pay $10 for a ticket, which gets them a free drink or two free cans of pop plus a chance to win one of Byron’s door prizes. The most prized are framed photos made by Byron’s friend Roger Feldhans. A biker from Bode who brings his little dog Clyde every Sunday (Clyde has to sit outside on the motorcycle, where patrons shower him with affection) offers intricate carvings that Byron gives away.
Byron anguishes over raising prices because he doesn’t want to turn anyone off. A pizza is just over $6. The barmaids work for tips and have been with him from Day One. Often you see them dancing behind the bar together.
Sometimes Byron takes a bath when the weather turns bad and 20 people show up. Most of his crowd comes from a 60-mile radius of Pomeroy. But he keeps forging on, trying to stay afloat. He already has acts booked every Sunday through April. And these are not your brother’s garage bands.
He had a ukelele player. A zither player. A digeredoo player. A band named Spongecake and the Fluff Ramblers whose van broke down the minute they showed up at Byron’s faded front. They went in to play like it was Fillmore East, and shoved off to their next gig in a borrowed livestock trailer. The Paper Moonshiner lady sang through a glittered megaphone. Her partner sang a better version of “Gentle On My Mind” than the Original John Hartford.
Most important, Byron supports Iowa musicians. Chad Elliott and David Zollo adore him. Joe and Vickie Price stay at his house. Brother Trucker considers itself Byron’s House Band. Bryon prays that Greg Brown and Iris Demint will play there someday.
“I’m addicted to music,” Byron confessed. “I just have to keep doing this.”
So he will celebrate. This Saturday, around 8 p.m., Partridge will show up with his band and rip into a song about a dude from Lohrville who pulls a tooth with a pliers from his overalls. Byron expects a Grateful Dead cover song from this outfit. Patridge says he is working on a song about Byron, but whether he plays it Saturday depends on how loose the King and the crowd get. They could get pretty loose this time.
That’s all Byron really wants in life. They will play until they can’t anymore, and for $10 you could be in that groove that a keyboard player from Woodstock found one recent night. Just go to Pomeroy and search for the vibe. You can’t miss it.
New Year’s Eve at Byron’s
Time: “8-ish” to midnight or better
Band: King of the Tramps, playing a rock-blues style they call “Whiskey Gospel”
Tickets: $10 at the door, includes free drink and chance at door prize
