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Biz News
Funny zoneReopened North Beach club the Purple Onion can still make audiences cry with laughter. By Lorraine SandersA LITTLE MORE than a year ago, an old, forgotten North Beach space, hailed in decades past for bringing Phyllis Diller, Woody Allen, the Kingston Trio, and the Smothers Brothers to its stage, sat quietly collecting dust beneath Macaroni Sciue Sciue on Columbus Avenue. Floors once trod on by comedy greats, poet laureates, and folksinging sensations lay covered with storage containers and restaurant inventory. The legendary Purple Onion (140 Columbus, S.F. 415-217-8400 or 415-956-1653, www.caffemacaroni.com or www.purpleonioncomedy.com) had become a forgotten relic from San Francisco's flourishing comedy heyday. But while Mario Ascione and Stephanie Ascione ran their bustling Italian restaurant upstairs, they were slowly, carefully making changes below. "I always had a picture in mind. A small stage where people in San Francisco could feel comfortable," says Mario, who decided to reopen the famous venue on New Year's Eve which is also his birthday of 2003. A jovial man with roots in Italian theater and comedy, Mario had heard of the venue's former glory when he bought the space four years ago. In 1953 the first black female cable car operator, born Marguerite Johnson, gave her debut performance there. She eventually took the stage name Maya Angelou. In 1955 a middle-aged mom named Phyllis Diller got a gig there that turned into an 89-week run. In 1959 two clean-cut brothers named Tom and Dick cut their comic teeth on the Purple Onion. Later they recorded their first album, The Smothers Brothers: Live at the Purple Onion, from the venue's tiny stage. And there were many more: Woody Allen, Robin Williams, and Lenny Bruce, to name a few. Over the years, though, the Purple Onion passed through a string of owners, and the club experienced a steady decline. By the time it closed in the mid-1990s, it had become a chaotically run punk music venue. Some affectionate regulars from this period might have considered it the club's finest. For Mario, it was a sign that the Purple Onion was reaching rock-bottom. "That's when the place started to go down," Mario says. "Everything was broken broken toilet, a hole-in-the-wall. The place was like a dump." Today the club's decor for the most part calls to mind its '50s heyday. Mario learned about the original interiors from former owners and patrons and then added his own touches to give the space the look of a 1920s speakeasy. The rust-colored walls, red tablecloths, and candles on each small table create a warm glow. Large mirrors with ornate gold frames tilt inward from the faux brick walls. The Purple Onion's original sign even hangs behind the stage, saved by Mario on its way to the dump. Of course, there have been a few additions. At the bottom of the entryway stairs hangs a huge portrait of a pasta-guzzling Pulcinella, a Neapolitan comedic character. If Pulcinella's face looks familiar, it's no accident. Mario himself posed for the portrait. Now celebrating the first anniversary of the club's rebirth, Mario continues to give a fresh stage to a variety of young musicians, comics, and performers just like the Purple Onion did in its glory days. He's not into the big names, unless, of course, they just happen to slip in unannounced, as Williams, Francis Ford Coppola, and Andy Garcia have been rumored to do. But Dan Dion, the producer of the venue's comedy lineup, says the Purple Onion can't help but attract the big names. "We get acts that would never play a venue that small, and they're doing it because of the history of the room," he said. The brightly hued painting isn't the only piece of Italy Mario brought to the Purple Onion. Select items from the upstairs restaurant are served on the cheap, and Mario holds commedia dell'arte nights on Saturdays, when performance group Tutti Frutti dons the traditional costumes and leather masks of the classic Italian comedic form. Other regular events include a Monday cabaret night hosted by the Kitchenettes, a Thursday comedy night, and house music each Friday. On other nights, entertainment could be anything from 1950s Italian swing-pop by six-piece band Bella Ciao's to a solo revue of Sinatra tunes. Perhaps the only thing about the new Purple Onion that calls to mind Hollywood is a small square set into the dance floor that features tiny handprints, courtesy of Mario's favorite performer: his five-year-old daughter, Isabella. "She says when she grows up she wants to be a rock star," he says, his eyes lighting up. She's certainly starting on a lucky stage. |
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