Probably something I ought to be ashamed to admit, but on the very first date with the girl I later married, I took her to see The Artesian Hall Stompers at The Birmingham Arms. This was in 1970. Not exactly a candle-lit dinner at a posh night-club... The gaffer was a hard Irishman, who always kept a stool-leg behind the bar in case there was an altercation or difference of opinion amongst his clientele. You walked in, and then had to climb a flight of steep stairs to where they had the jazz. No bar upstairs - there was a serving-hatch downstairs. Frankly, a real dump, but dear to my heart....41 years later the same girl and I still go to listen to live music wherever it's played, and we play it ourselves to anyone who'll listen.
Stitch, would you happen to know what year The Birmingham Arms closed?
Big Gee