Living Doll

By the age of 12, Linda Jemison had fallen in love--with rock ‘n’ roll and the smell of stale beer. Clearly, the Doll Hut was her destiny.

The Doll Hut--Linda’s Doll Hut--is the remarkable little shack of a nightclub Jemison opened 10 years ago this week. There she presides as the fondly regarded, ever-nurturing den mother to the Orange County music scene. She provides a nightly stage--well, a corner of the bar where bands set up on the floor and play--for some of Southern California’s biggest bands, including the Offspring, Social Distortion and Bad Religion, as well as for most of the leading bands on the local grass-roots scene, and legions of rockers taking their first, halting steps out of the garage.

First, the kudos:

“It’s like a clubhouse for the music scene,” said Steve Zepeda, one of the few local grass-roots rock promoters who has been at it longer than Jemison. “Everybody just loves Linda.”

“What she’s got going on there is really, really out of the ordinary,” said Stormy Shepherd, Los Angeles-based booking agent for the Offspring, Rancid, L7 and other punk and alternative bands. “When bands are on tour, they get used to these club people who are so put out. With her, it’s the opposite. They love, love, love working with bands. Linda just treats the bands so incredibly well.”

“The Doll Hut is everything you hope this business would be when you get in it: ‘Wow, somebody cares,’ ” said Jim Guerinot, the Orange County rock mogul who hired Jemison to scout for his label, Time Bomb Recordings.

“With all the pretentiousness around today, it’s the real deal,” said James Harman, the Huntington Beach bluesman who has played everything from Deep South dives to major festival stages during a nearly 40-year performing career. “Linda’s Doll Hut brings you back to what music’s really about: the artist on the floor, the audience right there, and go do it.”

As for Jemison herself, Harman says: “She’s wonderful and beautiful and intelligent. She’s not some chick you’re going to push around. She’s a really strong-willed woman who deserves a lot of respect. She’s mighty fine.”

Now, the story:

Jemison, who turns 35 on Wednesday, grew up in Anaheim and Garden Grove. She was 11 when the drummer in her older sister Keri’s top-40 band blew off a rehearsal; Linda sat in and discovered she had rhythm. At 15 she was a punkette, sporting a purple mohawk and using a fake ID to crash shows at the Cuckoo’s Nest in Costa Mesa, the cradle of O.C. punk and alterna-rock.

“I was pretty straight for a punk,” Jemison recalled this week, sitting at her desk in an Orange office building (the 1,000-square-foot, 49-capacity Doll Hut having no room to spare for an office).

“Some of my friends were heroin addicts and speed freaks, but I was the innocent kid,” said Jemison, who speaks in a soft but firm voice.

The Sights, Smells of the Music Business

As a member of the scuffling punk bands Humane Restraint and Convicted, Jemison got fed up with being stiffed by club owners or casually bumped from bills. It was one of the reasons she gave up being a musician at age 19. But she never tired of the sound of music. Or the smell.

Early one afternoon this week, Jemison threw open the back door to her bar and strode briskly inside, across red carpeting blotched with indelible black grime. The black, wooden walls are covered with beer signs, thousands of stickers for bands famous and obscure, and a bunch of fake carrots somebody had hung the night before.

“I love the smell of this bar. Isn’t it crazy? That cigarettes and beer smell,” she said.

Jemison thinks it goes back to when she was 11 or 12 and would tag along with her father, who ran the bar and catering business at the Costa Mesa Country Club. She was intrigued by the place and its morning-after smell of smoke and stale beer. “It was kind of like being where you weren’t supposed to be, a place for adults.”

Jemison’s mother, Pearl Jemison-Smith, was a nurse in burn and intensive-care units. In 1991, when Linda’s older brother, Jamie, was diagnosed as HIV positive, her mother became a full-time AIDS activist.

“She is a loving, caring person, and that came across to me,” Jemison said. “I think karma plays a big part in life. If you’re good as much as you can be, it all comes back.”

For two years, Linda worked for the AIDS Services Foundation in Costa Mesa, helping patients meet their daily needs. In 1989, she and her boyfriend of six years, John Mello, decided to open a bar that would be a musicians’ hangout. When they found that the Doll Hut was on the market, they bit, for $32,500 loaned by Jemison’s mother and her physician stepfather. It was just a neighborhood dive, a shabby-looking roadhouse built in the early 1900s, where workers and barflies gathered and no live music played. But it had an aura, with its great name, its distinctive neon sign and its red, barn-like exterior. And Mello and Jemison were lured by its rock ‘n’ roll connection: the Pontiac Brothers, who hung out there for the cheap beer, had paid affectionate homage to the place and its clientele during the mid-1980s with a song and album titled “Doll Hut.”

A week before the Doll Hut opened on Aug. 4, 1989, the Mellos married. Nine months later they separated and embarked on a long, bitter divorce. For two years they split the baby: John ran the Doll Hut on some nights, Linda on others. The clientele divided into factions. Whether a given customer would drop in or drive on by depended on whether Mello’s white Cadillac or Jemison’s red Ford Escort was parked out front.

Finally, in September 1992, Jemison took control of the club after assuming $20,000 in debts and repair expenses. Again, she turned to her family for backing.

“I said, ‘Please, Mom, let me keep the Doll Hut. I don’t have it in me to work 9 to 5.’ ”

Now it was Linda’s Doll Hut, a fresh name for a fresh start. And there was a fresh approach: where scheduling was sometimes sporadic before, the Doll Hut since late 1992 consistently has put on shows six or seven nights a week--heavy on roots-rock, punk and alternative rock, with a touch of blues and progressive country music for diversity.

From Such Humble Beginnings

Some of Orange County’s finest bands became fixtures, among them Big Sandy & His Fly-Rite Boys, One Hit Wonder and the Ziggens. Sublime, Lit, Fastball and Everclear have played the Doll Hut, as have all four original members of X (although not together). On certain nights, without any advance notice except for word of mouth, bands that normally would draw thousands of fans have nestled into the corner of possibly the tiniest venue on the rock ‘n’ roll map.

The Offspring played a Christmas benefit in December 1995, returning to the club where, a few years before, they had played regularly as just another punk band looking for a break. Social Distortion has appeared twice; Brian Setzer turned up for a benefit concert, flipping burgers on the club’s back patio before twanging a solo-guitar set.

Accustomed to playing across bouncer-fronted barriers at big shows, those major acts get to relive their younger, more innocent days, playing to fans who can reach out and touch them.

“When Bad Religion played, they were all smiles: ‘We haven’t played any place like this since we were playing house parties,’ ” said Steve Soto, the accomplished Orange County punk rock musician who is Jemison’s key assistant in booking the Doll Hut.

Soto, a former member of Agent Orange, Adolescents and Joyride, often mans the door when not touring with his current band, 22 Jacks. Indeed, Doll Hut patrons are likely to have their cover charge taken or drinks poured by talented rockers, members of what Jemison describes as her “family”--a crew made up primarily of musicians.

While the Doll Hut’s reputation has soared, Jemison says, its profits remain modest, at best.

Jemison, who regularly hosts or promotes benefit concerts for charitable causes, has organized charity shows in which the beneficiary was the Doll Hut. Without a fund-raising event, there simply wasn’t enough cash for needed repairs, a paint job, or a new sound system to replace one stolen in a burglary.

Pardon Anaheim’s Dust

Jemison lives in a rented house in Fullerton. She recently quit driving Escorts and treated herself to a used, 1987 Mercedes.

“I’d rather be doing this than making $100,000 a year,” she said. “I make an average income, but I’m very happy with what I do.”

During relatively flush times, Jemison likes to give bands bonuses for successful shows. “When the Doll Hut does well, it spreads the wealth,” she said.

For the past 1 1/2 years, there hasn’t been much wealth to spread. Construction on the Santa Ana Freeway through Anaheim has turned the Doll Hut’s area, near Lincoln and Manchester, into a congested maze at times. Jemison says she has lost about a third of her business to the road confusion. A cleaning service used to give the club its weekly scrubbing. Now Jemison and a girlfriend do the grungy work themselves.

“We’ll make it through,” she said. Even if the traffic mess lasts another year, she figures, the roadwork eventually will make the Doll Hut more visible and easily accessible than it was before.

A few years ago, Jemison hunted for a bigger place to start a club, hoping for bigger bands, bigger crowds, bigger profits. She gave up when the locations proved unsuitable, or investors backed out.

Instead of expanding in the club business, she is trying to branch into other music fields. Her scouting for Time Bomb since 1996 has resulted in one signing, Disappointment Incorporated. She is moving into record production: Having previously helped bands record demos for free, she anticipates her first paying producer’s gig, helping the local band Wayside record a song for a TV show’s pilot episode. And she is trying to turn the Doll Hut’s cachet into cash by putting a new emphasis on merchandising: A display case for T-shirts, caps and other items with the Doll Hut logo is being installed where the pinball machine used to be. Jemison and Mike Rouse, a musician who is her partner in projects apart from running the club, aim to place Doll Hut clothing and merchandise in local stores.

With two friends, one of them a TV and film producer, Jemison is writing a screenplay for “The Doll Hut Diaries,” a feature to be based on the little rock ‘n’ roll saga she has created at 107 S. Adams St., a dead-end near the railroad tracks.

Could success in all those ventures spoil the Doll Hut, or lead Jemison to abandon her club for ritzier opportunities?

Never, she said. “The Doll Hut is like my habit. I would like to see it stay what it is--a place to develop young bands, and for big bands to call home.”

* Linda’s Doll Hut, 107 S. Adams St., Anaheim. Special weekend anniversary shows this month include New Wave Karaoke and D/Railed tonight; Freakdaddy, Busstop Hurricanes and Barrelhouse Aug. 13; a reunion of Joyride with All the Madmen, Aug. 14; Los Infernos and the Bleeders, Aug. 20; Co-Dependentes and the Crowd, Aug. 21; Steve Carson, GoForthGetters, Wayside and Travolta, Aug. 27; and Dale Peterson and the Rhythm Lords, Aug. 28. All shows $7. 9 p.m. (714) 533-1286.

(BEGIN TEXT OF INFOBOX / INFOGRAPHIC)

Linda’s Doll Hits

Linda Jemison’s favorite live bands among Doll Hut regulars over the years (in alphabetical order): the Bleeders, Busstop Hurricanes, Cadillac Tramps, Disappointment Incorporated, the Ziggens.

Jemison’s favorite Doll Hut regulars on record: All the Madmen, Big Sandy & His Fly-Rite Boys, Rule 62, Russell Scott & His Red Hots, Supersuckers.

Her fave rave? “Of all the musicians alive or dead, I love Jerry Lee Lewis the best. He’s unpredictable and incredibly talented. He’s full of fire. I took a chance and introduced myself to him [after Lewis headlined the Hootenanny Festival in 1996]. I might as well have been 12 years old at that moment, and I don’t get star-struck very easily.”

Love Hurts

When Doll Hut bands such as Rule 62 and Wank get a shot at the big time, only to end up disappointed, Jemison suffers with them. “My heart is too involved sometimes. When they’re just starting to take off and the luck doesn’t hit, it’s so frustrating. You know how hard they work and how good they are.”

Due Diligence, and Then Some

Jemison says she gets three or four demo recordings every day from bands wanting to play the Doll Hut; she makes a point of listening to each one, reserving the right to fast-forward if a given song doesn’t capture her quickly. Each band gets listed in her computer, with a capsule notation of her impressions and a rating on a scale of 1 to 5.

“My spare bedroom is dedicated to demo tapes and CDs, thousands and thousands. I never throw them away. . . . It’s respect for people. They work so hard to put a demo out. If I like a band after the first song, I have to stop myself from jumping on the phone and going ‘Oh my God, you’re the greatest band in the world.’ ”

The Odds

Jemison estimates that only one demo in 500 is so awful that she would never give the band at least a trial booking. “There’s a definite bar, but it’s very low.” Bands, however, are expected to play for free if they have no draw; Jemison says their reward is the experience and exposure.

The Hut Rules

No moshing. Jemison, at 5 feet 2, has been known to corral would-be slam dancers herself to keep a pit from starting. “I’ve never been hurt doing it. They turn around and see it’s me and go, ‘Oh, I’m sorry.’ ”

* No bands that draw a racist following. “We’ve protected our little Hut from evil groups of people who are prejudiced.”

* No metal bands. Jemison says they’re just too loud for such a small place.

* Don’t drink in your own establishment.

* Don’t date the musicians? “Are you kidding me? No, they’re my weakness.”

Don’t Judge a Hut by Its Cover

“One thing I’d like to get out there is for women not to be afraid to come to the Doll Hut. If they show up and introduce themselves to the bouncers, they’re going to be looked out for. It looks like a biker bar, but it isn’t. It’s a fuzzy, lovable group of musicians. The upkeep could be better, but it takes money.”

The Fightin’ Side of She

Jemison says she confronted the lead singer of a popular Long Beach band after he smashed three microphones--$99 each--against the bar during a performance several years ago. “He called me a bitch. I said, ‘Damn right I’m a bitch. Now get the hell out of my club.’ ” The now-defunct Long Beach band never played the Doll Hut again.

O.C.’s Doom Kounty Electric Chair angered Jemison when it got pushy with her door man during a dispute over payment, then sent her a smart-alecky letter about it, which she pinned to her office bulletin board because “it was so petty and ridiculous.” Chris Cruz, the band’s bassist and manager, says he didn’t realize how mad she was until he approached Jemison at the Doll Hut months later and got an earful. He sent another letter, apologizing, along with a basket of flowers. Jemison took Doom Kounty off her blacklist.

“I’ve always been pretty assertive at the Doll Hut,” she says. “It’s like defending my home.”

The Needle and the Damage Done

“Sometimes Randy Cash [the promoter at Club 369 in Fullerton] calls me just completely frustrated: ‘Linda, what are we going to do about this drug problem? It’s killing musicians we love.’ I’ve tried so hard to help people in the last 10 years, and usually I have to cut them completely out of my life and remove them from the bar. It seems the more you help them, the less they want to help themselves. You see people you know and love degenerate right before your eyes.”

Don’t Quit Your Day Job

“It’s more hip now to be a musician. When I was going to junior high and high school, the musicians were the dregs of the school. More people are becoming musicians because they think it’s cool, and not because they have the gift. There’s more to filter through to find the good bands.”

Strong Enough to Be Her Man?

“I guess a female club owner can be intimidating. Some men don’t like the fact I’m around so many men all the time, and a lot of them are cute. My last breakup has snapped me into adult mode. I’m not a kid anymore. I’m not really thinking that I’m going to find Mr. Wonderful at the Doll Hut. My personal life has been through so many changes. The only constant has been the Doll Hut.”