Some early Country Joe and the Fish shows may have taken place at Mandrake's - DBC talks of fighting bouncers - although this could have been when it was a pool hall with occasional shows around 1966. Mary Moore took over ownership around March 21, 1969. The following words have been captured for posterity by Corry Arnold and Barbara Flaska.

Mandrake Roots

1048 University Avenue in Berkeley (between 10th Street and San Pablo Avenue) was the site of Mandrake's. From 1965 onwards, Mandrake's was a pool hall that booked occasional music shows, often for free. By mid-1968, the venue was taken over and booked by a group of local partners. Around March, 1969, Mary Moore, the wife of a jazz musician (Willie Moore), became the leading partner and began to book the club on a day-to-day basis.

From 1968 to 1974, Mandrake's was an important club on the Berkeley music scene. The Joy of Cooking had a regular weeknight gig there for much of 1969, and it helped to establish both the band and the venue. Weekly bookings at Mandrake's ran the usual spectrum of American music, but there was a little more emphasis on blues and jazz than competing clubs like The Longbranch (on 2504 San Pablo) and the New Orleans House (on 1505 San Pablo).

After Mandrake's closed around 1974, the venue reopened as Jerry's Stop Sign. The one time I went there in 1977, there were pool tables, so it appeared that the venue had returned to its earlier incarnation. I was seeing a friend's band play, but no one was there. The bartender politely suggested that the previous night's shooting may have cut down on attendance.

The photo above was taken on August 11, 2009. The site is currently a pet emergency hospital. The angle is poor because of roadwork at the time, but 1048 University is the right half of the structure, with the orange awning. The other half of the structure (at 1054) was a hamburger joint called Buddy’s Cafe, and was not part of Mandrake’s.

Thanks to a post on our blog, we have learned quite a bit about the flavor and history of Mandrake’s and the music scene in Southwest Berkeley at the time, particularly around 1969. What follows are some fascinating memories from people who were there. The complete thread is available at the  Rock Archaeology site -anyone with corrections, insights or recovered memories about Mandrake’s (real or imagined) is encouraged to leave them on the still-active Comment thread. Thanks to Barbara Flaska, Deacon and The Suprelles and all the Commenters who have contributed to this trip back to San Pablo Avenue in days gone by.

Mary Moore

(from Charles Burress’s obituary in the San Francisco Chronicle, December 28, 2001)

Mary Moore, the founder and guiding spirit of Mandrake's night club in Berkeley, died December 19 at her Berkeley home at age 73.

Ms. Moore started Mandrake's in 1968, and during its six years of existence the popular club blazed across the Bay Area music scene. Ms. Moore's love of music, and her engaging personality and friendships in the music world, are credited with making the small club a large name featuring top talents in blues, jazz and other types of music.

"It was a powerhouse club for just that short period of time," said Country Joe McDonald.

Mandrake's, situated at University Avenue and 10th Street, "was the birthplace for a lot of bands," said McDonald, whose Country Joe and the All Star Band got its start there.

Commander Cody and his Lost Planet Airmen were signed by Paramount Records after packing Mandrake's, and it was also where Joy of Cooking and Asleep at the Wheel first found an audience.

Ms. Moore was long time friends with Sonny Terry and Brownie McGhee, who always drew large crowds, as did John Lee Hooker, Muddy Waters, Lightnin' Hopkins, James Cotton, Earl Hooker, Charlie Musselwhite and Mose Allison.

From the modern jazz world came Thelonious Monk, Miles Davis, Bill Evans, Ornette Coleman, Freddie Hubbard, Grover Washington Jr., Pharoah Sanders, Dexter Gordon, George Benson and other famous names.

Other favorites included Elvin Bishop, Boz Scaggs, Bobby Hutcherson, Dan Hicks, and occasionally an act such as comedian Richard Pryor.

Ms. Moore did the booking and was "the infusing spirit of the place," recalled Dave Greer, Ms. Moore's junior partner. She was always there, whether sitting at a front table with Muddy Waters, tending bar or attending the lines of patrons that often stretched around the block.

Ms. Moore, who had been married to the late Willie Moore, a well-known Bay Area blues and jazz saxophonist, was known for her sharp humor, fairness, insight and love of music, Greer said.

The club folded in 1974 because of increasing overhead and the introduction of exclusivity contracts into the music scene that stopped touring groups from playing more than one local venue, Greer said. 

Who Played Mandrake’s?

B.B. King was there. Muddy Waters was there. Magic Sam was there! "Good Rockin'" Robinson was there. Earl Hooker! Freddie Roulette! Even Sonny Terry and Brownie McGhee were there! And Mandrake's became a hangout for the blues greats who would sit around a big round table. I know, because I was there! And Charlie Musselwhite would lure his friends in, so John Lee Hooker was there, too, sitting and talking with his other friends. The marquee posters of coming attractions were hand painted in black on large white artist's sketching paper. After the event, the posters were stuck on the walls inside with masking tape. The walls inside were flat black, the full house lights were never very bright, but the greats were there. Even Mose Allison! Jerry Garcia showcased his new love, pedal steel guitar there. This was just June thru' December 1969.

OH! How could I forget! Big Mama Thornton, J.C. Burris and Lightnin' Hopkins, too. Those are just some of the blues greats who swung through. There was also a club directly across the street that had occasional jazz and sometimes served liverwurst sandwiches on rye in little red or green plastic baskets. We'd run over there and bring some food back once in awhile.

Elvin Bishop would put on a one man blues show, and he was back several times until he got too expensive. We also had sterling local acts grace the stage, the Loading Zone, and I think Tower of Power lent some horns. The Fogarty Bros once fell by for a surprise set. Lots of musicians went onstage to sit in. They were the glue that held the whole scene together. Mondays were audition nights, when new, untried bands had the stage and for a long time there was free admission on Mondays. Not just music, as Richard Pryor was onstage there, but I didn't see that show.

In my heart, I wish those blues shows had been recorded to treasure for all time. I wish Willie Dixon's Blues All Stars had a live recording from their shows at Mandrake's. Or a video tape of Elvin Bishop making his stage entrance dangling a rubber chicken (Magic Theater prop) ... the whole club fell apart laughing or at least all the blues guys sitting at the bar did, because he was making a reference to another blues hang out across the Bay, where they'd served free chicken dinners to lure in customers who might actually spend some money, like buy a drink. Or at least a tape of Freddie Roulette backing up Charlie Musselwhite one night. Freddie sometimes sheer magic.  Mary was graced with unerring good taste in jazz. Once in great while, though, I seem to recall she'd come in with a still camera and surreptitiously take an occasional photo of the blues greats at least.

The Kaleidoscope crowded the small stage and were accompanied by a pregnant belly-dancer with many coins sewn to her belt. Commander Cody performed for the Mandrake's Halloween Party, the show was filmed and later broadcast on KQED-TV. [Barbara Flaska]

Surprise Guests

You wouldn't believe me if I told you the name of the really famous rock group who rented Mandrake's one fall night for a rehearsal/private party. They performed, but weren't ever listed as one of the performing acts.

Name that band? Well, ok ..... They rented the place when the Magic Theater was putting on a triology of plays on Friday nights ("Supersargeant", "The Teddy Bear Picnic", and "Spider Rabbit"). The band even got onstage themselves for a few numbers and had borrowed bits and pieces of costumes from the theatrical "wardrobe room" (a small trunk upstairs pushed into the corner to make room for the sound and lights table). So they performed "incognito." Honest! (Not a word to any one now ... the Stones!)

I think they were hanging out in the Bay Area quite often at that time, and this wasn't a formal rehearsal by any stretch of the imagination. Just something to do. The Magic Theater were performing at Mandrake's regularly every week for a number of weeks. The time frame had to be around Halloween as I and another waitress borrowed some of their greasepaint for facial decoration for our "costumes" for the Commander Cody show which was also Halloween (ed. note—the Stones’ 69 American tour began on November 7, 1969, so Halloween would have been just before the tour began).

Speaking of surprises, in 1969 portions of the Masked Marauders reassembled for a guerilla performance at Mandrake's. As this was after that English rock group had invaded our space, I thoroughly enjoyed the mock. They only did a couple of songs as their set, and the band wore those little black Halloween masks with elastic strings. Their lead singer that evening wore a long fringed scarf with eyeholes cut out as his mask. That's all I know about them. They might be a distant memory now, but they were real enough to me.  [Barbara Flaska]

The Daily Routine

Mary booked the club during that time. Our manager was an actor turned school teacher named Don, and he wore his sweaters with the sleeves pushed up to the elbows. He would laugh about the fact that the Winston commercial he had been cast for in the early 60's paid his way thru teacher's college. Five people were silent owners in the bar. It took five people to open a business, and most all of them took turns working in the bar. Most were school teachers! Lee would tend bar, Sam (of Shakespeare's Books) would only attend meeting, Harry (once upon a time a comedian who by that time was quite abrasive) no one wanted around, I think Mary had a share at that time as she removed her tiffany style hanging lamps for fear of damage. 

There was a jukebox near the front door. And the owners had loaded it with some of their old '45s. Almost no one ever dropped a coin in the box. I remember "Hey Senorita" by the Penguins was on there. But apparently the jukebox rental company wouldn't allow people to put their own music on, or the club couldn't afford the rent any more, and the jukebox was summarily rolled out on a handtruck early one evening to be returned to jukebox warehouse. [Barbara Flaska]

Commander Cody And The Lost Planet Airmen

And as to Commander Cody, I do remember who it was who helped land them that most important first gig at Mandrake's. Those people should not go unheralded nor unrecognized if the real history is to be told.

Jeanie lived in a house in Oakland near the border of South Berkeley. All I know about her is she was reputed to be the daughter of a diplomatic family and so she spent her childhood years in Africa. She saw people falling through the cracks while struggling to maintain their lives all around her in Berkeley and Oakland. So she began a free food program. She'd drive down predawn into the far reaches of the produce district and like other charities ask for produce giveaways. She described this as competing with the nuns for the watermelons. Then she'd deliver the food to the people in her adjacent neighborhoods, sometimes just go up and knock on a door to ask if they needed any food because she had some. That's how she met who became the Commander Cody band. I knew her only through a mutual friend, and she soon told me when she learned from that friend that I worked at Mandrake's about these musicians "who seemed like pretty nice guys", one of whom played boogie woogie piano pretty well and painted. So I told her if they had an act prepared to have them ask for Mary. So Jeanie is the one to be remembered.

The people who came to see Commander Cody would throw their beer glasses against the wall at the beginning of a favorite tune, like faux rednecks, resulting in much breakage, and were sometimes encouraged by the band onstage to do this. Don got miffed after awhile and added the cost of new barware to the band's tab at the end of the night. [Barbara Flaska]

Deacon And The Suprelles debut at Mandrake’s, August 25, 1969

Deacon and the Suprelles made their debut appearance at Mandrake's on August 25, 1969.  What was to have been a Monday night try-out for an untried but promising band made a lasting lifelong impression on me. I hate to make things larger than they really were, or dramatize the retelling, but this was a night of firsts changing rapidly into a time of never agains.  With a little bit of mystery thrown in at the end for good measure. Like anything in the Berkeley at that time, what promised to be a simple Monday night show evolved into a complicated sort of thing. The band described themselves as a "Jewish soul" group, meaning they performed R&B and soul tunes.  Pretty good, kinda like the records. Which is exactly what they were doing at the time.  They were onstage performing in front of a leopard skin curtain they'd brought for the occasion.  The singer had just leapt out from behind the curtain with a loud yowl when a man and woman came into the club, sat down on the tall padded stools at the bar, where they ordered and were each served a drink. The phone rang shortly thereafter. A week night and we were breaking in a new bartender on what we assumed would be a much easier night than a busy weekend shift. Our new bartender, his first night on the job, answered the phone and chatted for awhile. The music in the club was usually LOUD, the sound cranked up so high people shouted themselves hoarse over the music or merely waited and tried to talk between sets when their ears were still buzzing and ringing.   The bar phone usually went unnoticed, so in looking back I am amazed the bartender could even hear the tiny tinkle of the ringing phone that night.

He walked quickly over to say something to me, his eyes may have been a little larger and rounder than usual.  Our brief conversation was like a bad game of charades.  I could only hear every third word he uttered and would have to fill in the blanks.  His mouth was moving, and I tried to read his lips under his moustache.  I heard the word "police" and  nodded my head.  He was getting frustrated as he continued, and finally he nearly shouted "they have guns" and made a gesture with his index finger and thumb.  I nodded again, but probably thought, "Of course they have guns, they're the police."  The charades grew wilder.  He turned towards the stage and he raised his arms straight up in the air, and waved them up and down and towards the door as if he didn't like the band and was trying to push them off the stage.  Well, he certainly seemed to express strong tastes about music.

The first song was a showcase piece and very, very loud.  The bartender turned to face me.  The drummer was wearing out the pedal on his bass drum and cymbals were crashing.  The bartender started all over again.  He told me the police had just called.  I probably said, "The police called?"  That was a new one.  I'd never heard anything like that before.  He explained the cops had called and were looking for some suspects who had just robbed a hotel and pistolwhipped the nightclerk just down the street, and the cops described the couple who were now sitting at the bar. As he’d just served them a drink, the bartender recognized them from the description and told the cops the people were there. The police advised him the couple were armed and dangerous, and to clear the club without the suspects noticing it.

After the bartender apprised me of these facts, he slipped over the bar and went out the front door. So I told the manager about this phone call, and he soon slipped away through that same door with the bouncer. We weren't used to trouble in that place. Onstage, the band continued what was likely the first song of their first set of the evening and I was the last employee left in the building.

I went around casually pretending to wipe off tables and empty ashtrays. Maybe overacting the part while trying to look casual by smiling and pretending to groove as I boogalooed my way from table to table.  I held my bartray as if I were asking for orders.  I had to lean close to speak to people as the music was loud and I nearly burned my nose from the candles on the tables.  I asked people one at a time and very cautiously to vacate the premises, to leave and be really cool about it.  One lady started to scream as she shot up from her chair, and I prayed the dangerous couple would merely think she was an exuberant fan. The band continued to play onstage. A group of white boys who covered R&B tunes pretty well, they were probably beginning to wonder about the quality of their performance with everyone starting to leave and all. I went back behind the bar and decided to forget about saving the till when the couple noisily demanded another drink. I gave them each a drink, and I accidentally spilled some of one as I set it down. I apologized, lifted the glass, and wiped the spill from the bar top with a cloth. This incident made the woman very angry, and she seemed to spiral out of control and didn’t seem to like me, and let her companion know with the words, "Kill that bitch." She started screeching, "Kill that bitch! Give me that gun, I’ll kill her." She grabbed at her partner's shoulder.  "Gimme the gun" she was shouting loudly. She moved towards him on the bar stool and tried to pull something from the pocket of his jacket, but he kept pulling his jacket away from her and told her to take it easy. While they were so engaged, I walked away and got the last few people near the bandstand out. I walked over to the stage and told the lead singer every one’s getting off stage, there was going to be trouble. They tumbled off right away, and left en masse by the back door which slammed shut behind them. And I was soon right behind them, too, happy to leave the couple with the club all to themselves. The cops levelled their fire power at me as I came out the back door and I was squinting through the bright spot lights aimed at the door.  There were gruff voices shouting at me, "Hands up!"   I saw a few of the band members running past police cars towards the street with their arms still stretched high in the air.  I was so startled to be staring straight down gun barrels that I nearly hit the dirt. Unbelievably, up the block, a TV crew had been close by and scanning the police radio. They'd set up and were interviewing the bartender. Why bother talking to him about anything, I thought, he'd barely even been there. His first night as a bartender in a blues club. I caught up with the band who were heading off down 10th St as I didn't want to go in the other direction where the television people were.  After a cup of coffee with the band at a nearby restaurant, we had refills as we waited for the police to enter the building and subdue the suspects.

Well, the cops eventually went in and took them. But I was left wondering why I had to be the one taking the risks. Suddenly I felt like I had taken enough risks, and I was genuinely disappointed no one else was willing to take part. I guess there was an issue about safety rescue, too, whirling around for me. Most times, there’s no such thing, you know.

We eventually all made our way back to the club and finished off the night. Anyone who wanted to come back in to hear the music came back. I got my wages for the night and the tips though always lousy were even scarcer than usual, but the owner made a special point of expressing appreciation when I showed up for my next shift. No shots were fired, no blood was spilled, but this incident made a profound and lasting impression on me.

All I know as "the end" is the police came back several times during daylight hours in the following days to search the club from top to bottom for the weapon, which was never found. The band to my knowledge never played Mandrake's again.   "Or if they did," as I later told a friend, "I didn't recognize them without their hands in the air." [Barbara Flaska]

I was one of the two guitarists in Deacon and the Suprelles. What a trip! I recall Harry Osibin did the announcing for the band, and at some point during that fateful gig he said,

"Now don't look at the guy at the bar..DON'T LOOK!..he has a gun and just robbed some folks. Play another tune or two, then announce that you're taking a break. Then walk casually out the back door."

I recall grabbing my guitar and leaving the place. There were cops with guns drawn and aimed at the folks exiting at the rear. That is, at me! They were crouching behind cars on the side street. That's about all I recall, but I can confirm most of what is written. Thanks for a great memory. [Richard-guitarist, Deacon and The Suprelles]

Wow! I’m the other guitarist and singer in Deacon and the Suprelles that night. We were Rocking! all our friends were there. We were Stoned! and suddenly, I looked out and the place was almost empty! I could not believe that we sounded that bad that our friends wouldn't even last the first set. Harry (as Richard recounted) came up to the state to tell us - "see that guy at the bar? DON'T LOOK! - He's got a heater, and the cops are ready to take the place over. Get out of here, but be cool man!" So, I walked up to the mike and said something like "Well I thought we sounded pretty good, but maybe I was wrong. If you're willing to stick around for another set, we'll be right back." At that point I headed out the back door, and looked right into the barrel of a rifle held in the shaking hands of a very young and nervous cop, telling me to move. Move I did, and we hung out in the street for an hour or two while the cops searched the place for evidence. Whatever. By the time we were able to get back in, the place was dead as a club can get. We played a few tunes and broke down the gear. [Bobby Z-guitarist, Deacon and The Suprelles]

I was there too (a good friend and one time roommate of Bob and Richard, the guitarists for the band). I was one of the patrons told by Barbara to leave and our table quietly left in the middle of a number by our friends. When we got outside, there was a line of Berkeley's finest with their rifles pointed at us. [Richard-audience member]

Mandrake's  - Some Art

Mandrake's  - In The Fourth Estate

Mandrake's  - A Performance History