Grit, Noise, and Revolution: The Birth of Detroit Rock 'n' Roll

6. On to the Hideout

6. On to the Hideout The year 1964 was a time of transition. The emergence of the Beatles and other new British groups gave a de‹nite feeling that a lingering era was beginning to pass. Besides the big dances at Notre Dame High School and Walled Lake Casino, still open prior to being destroyed in a ‹re, a new midsixties scene began to evolve when a new teen venue opened for business in May of that year. Known as the Hideout, the club was a radical change from the chaperoned sock hops kids had been attending for years at schools, churches, and roller rinks. At most of these functions, a disc jockey played records and gave away free merchandise. Occasionally , they brought along recording artists to lip-synch their current hits, as teachers or uniformed security guards looked on. Dave Leone had been one of those sock hop kids, and he had become bored with the scene.1 Born in Detroit, he grew up with a passion for rock ’n’ roll, and according to his son, “He would have loved to be a lead singer in a band, but he didn’t have the voice for it.”2 Leone was in college at the University of Cincinnati when his father died and left him a thousand dollars. He and high school buddy Ed “Punch” Andrews quickly put the money to use, renting out a VFW hall on Detroit’s east side. Located at 20542 Harper Road, near Eight Mile in Harper Woods, it was normally the scene of wedding receptions and bingo games. Leone had an entirely different thing in mind. Each Friday night, they would hang a sign outside, and this rather plain, rectangular structure would be transformed into a cool “teen club,” open only to kids sixteen and up. Instead of records, there would be live music from local bands.3 Surprisingly, there were not many rock bands around equal to the caliber of Billy Lee and the Rivieras or the Lourds. Most still tended to play in the style of instrumental groups such as the Ven68 tures or Johnny and the Hurricanes. But there was one band that grabbed the attention of Leone and Andrews. They called themselves the Tremelos. “We were the ‹rst band in Birmingham to get a good singer,” recalls Gary Quackenbush, who at fourteen was the Tremelos’ lead guitarist and youngest member. “It was a big deal because it was all instrumentals before then. John Boyles joined our band, and it really made the difference.”4 By late 1963, the Tremelos were playing high school hops and weddings as well as fraternity parties at the University of Michigan. At one such party they met college student Punch Andrews, who hired the band to play at a New Year’s Eve party at a home in Grosse Pointe. Dave Leone was also in attendance that night.5 Already dreaming of being big-time record moguls, the two convinced the band that they should be recording. A fan of the TV show The Fugitive, Dave Leone wrote a song with the same title, and then convinced the Tremelos to record it and change their name to the Fugitives.6 Gary Quackenbush recalls that “Dave contacted Quinn Martin, the producer of the TV show, to get his permission, but Martin shut him down as far as rights and usage [of the show’s name], so Dave decided to put the record out as ‘A Fugitive.’”7 In early 1964, the band recorded the single at United Sound Systems, and Dave Leone managed to get it released on D-Town Records, which normally served as a local outlet for R & B.8 Gary Quackenbush recalls “staying up late at night” to hear Don Zee play the record on WXYZ.9 Although “A Fugitive” faded fast, the record did provide some publicity. The Fugitives were hired as the house band at Dave Leone’s new Hideout club when it opened in May.10 There was no real promotion or advertising beyond a few handbills for the club, which rocked from eight to midnight each Friday night. Kids heard about the Hideout strictly by word of mouth. The ‹rst night, eighty people showed up and heard the Fugitives do an ultradirty version of “Louie, Louie,” a recent smash by the Kingsmen.11 As word of their performance spread and kids realized there were no chaperones, the building ‹lled to its capacity, 550 persons. The Hideout was just as nondescript inside...