The Washboard

Tucked in the basement of a grimey brownstone building overshadowed by Downtown’s great skyscrapers, the Washboard couldn’t be located any lower without dropping into the sewers. Faint cello and piano notes echo in the maze of alleyways and underpasses that leads to its front door, below street level. The place seems scrubbed, as if trying to rise up to the occasion of having a fleeting shot at glory. The front door is covered with posters heralding Martha Ellis’ next gig.

The Washboard is a long-standing establishment on the west end of the Theater District, on the opposite side from the prestigious Opera House, a jazz and blues venue from the days the City was young. But unlike its more respectable brethren who started out low and built their dignity and reputation with the years, the Washboard was always a spot vaguely associated with the wrong kind of crowd.

The current owner, Sammy Jefferson Jr., moved from the neighborhoods to the alleys of Downtown decades ago. He dabbled with pretty much everything one can on the streets, but he always had a love for music, and when the opportunity came, he purchased the club.

The Washboard is a roomy club, capable of holding up to 200 patrons. The red-tinted lights set the mood but also give the place a dark and seedy vibe. There are two long bars lining the main room, and about 20 small circular tables scattered in front of a medium-sized stage. In the back there’s a kitchen, a dressing room, and storage space, as well as an office for Sammy. A back door leads to a dirty back alley, even narrower than the one that leads to the front door.

The bouncer here is Syrus.

This is the scene of the death of Darnell Fox.