One Dollar Cover, Warm Beer and Good Old Soul Music

E. Mark Windle 22 March 2025.

I reckon there will be a few tears shed in the Carolina Rock n Roll Remembered and I Remember the Cellar Facebook groups this week. I just discovered on my social media feed that The Cellar burned down early Saturday morning. Once upon a time, this place really meant something to the music-loving teenagers of Charlotte.

The first time I set eyes on this venue was 12 years ago. I’ve got to admit, by then it looked it had seen better days. Complete with tattered awning, overgrown weeds out front, and dwarfed by the glass and metal high-rise monoliths on the opposite side of Morehead Street, The Cellar’s presence seemed at odds with the rest of the urban landscape.

It was business that brought me to North Carolina that day. A couple of old timer musicians were teed up for interview as part of a new book project. I was here to meet Nat Speir, first on my list. His claim to fame was his role as sax player and co-founder The Rivieras, a Charlotte band who enjoyed repeat bookings at The Cellar. Their one record, “Behold”, got a fair amount of airplay during the mid ’60s, but without a manager or decent promotion, national success eluded them. Nat had no issue with that though (in a twist of fate, the record had a new lease of life when the flipside was “rediscovered” 20 years later by an underground soul scene in the UK).

Nat was just happy enjoying life on the stage and the road, creating music and rubbing shoulders with the likes of Gladys Knight (before her Motown days), Maurice Williams and the Zodiacs of “Stay” fame, and Curtis Mayfield with the rest of The Impressions. In fact, throughout his whole life Nat been involved in the industry in one way or another. When I met him, he was just about to retire as a music teacher.

With Nat Speir outside The Cellar (2013).

This was my first visit to Charlotte. After being treated to a whirlwind tour of the main sights Nat suggested it might be fun to try find the old place. It had been decades since The Rivieras last played The Cellar. It took an age to get our bearings, but eventually we were climbing over the wall of an abandoned parking lot and peering through the grated windows of the old red-brick building.

I was already aware of some of The Cellar’s history. Its heyday was in the ’60s, when the cover was one dollar. And it was something of a mecca for those who came to hear their regular favourite bands and guest appearances from out of state. OK, so it wasn’t always swinging from the rafters. But the local bands had a very loyal crowd, and whenever soul acts came to town the place was sure to be rocking. For many kids, this was the first chance to see singers perform who had previously only been heard on Big Ways or on late night WLAC. Old Cellar bill posters read like a who’s who of R&B singers, groups and beach music bands: The Rivieras, The Tempests, The Tams, The Soul Set, The Catalinas, The Georgia Prophets, Billy Stewart, Archie Bell and the Drells and many more. One band, Soul Inc., even recorded a live LP there.

Image courtesy of Malcolm Collins.

When Motown or Stax artists came to town it was logistically easier—and cheaper—to hire local bands as backup. The nearby Park Center had the capacity to host the larger shows, but The Cellar saw more than its fair share of household names. The Rivieras played both; at one point maybe twice a week and at weekends.

Once they were connected with Ted Hall’s Hit Attractions and other agencies, bookings for The Rivieras came in to open for or back up a huge array of visiting recording stars. Nat recalls: “We ended up playing with just about every major soul and R&B act of the day that came to the southeast — Stevie Wonder, The Tops, The Temps, The Marvelettes, The Platters, The Olympics, The Five Royals, Chuck Berry, Jimmy Reed, Barbara Lewis, Peaches and Herb, Wilson Pickett… Did I miss anyone out?”

I live on the wrong side of the Atlantic and would have been far too young for The Cellar anyway, but multiple references from former Cellar-goers had provided some sense of the atmosphere. Hot sticky summer nights. Warm beer. And, on busy nights, the crowd packed in like sardines.

Image courtesy of Malcolm Collins.

“Growing up in the south—in my neighbourhood and in that era—meant you loved soul and Motown,” says Jackie Freeman Panos. The Cellar was our weekly fix. We had fake ID cards to get in, but alcohol laws were different then anyway; you could drink beer at eighteen. The place was dark, crowded and LOUD! We’d wiggle through until we got next to the stage during the live band performances. It was just a magical age to socialise, listen to music and dance the night away. If a group of boys were on that could really play soul music, the girls would go crazy!”

Eventually those teenagers entered adulthood, and life moved on. College, jobs, Vietnam, and marriage were calling. The halcyon days of soul music were fading, at least in these parts. Stax and the Motor City were still producing the goods, but like much of the South, Charlotte youth were hungry for something new.

Southern rock was now the thing. But The Cellar’s attempts to keep up with musical, social and cultural shifts of the times were met with only varying degrees of success. By the late ‘70s a new generation of kids were done with the Allman Brothers and the Marshall Tucker Band. The Cellar tried disco for a while. Then in the 1980s it was country music time, along with temporary venue name change to Country Underground. It changed again to Machine Gun Kelly’s. Then, I’ve been told, it was back to The Cellar and finally the Morehead Tavern. Somewhere along the line, that building by the rail track had lost its soul and fizzled out as social gathering place.

Nat preferred happier memories. As we headed back to his place, tales of the good old days continued. The afternoon was spent sampling Mrs Speir’s fine Key Lime pie, holding court over how much the city had changed through the decades, and discussing our mutual respect for soul music. When done, we said our goodbyes and went our separate ways. Two weeks later I was back in the UK. Three months on, It’s Better To Cry was written, and by Christmas it was published. In time, Nat was even inspired to write his memoirs. We continue to stay in touch to this day.

8am, Saturday 15 March 2025: Charlotte Fire Department are called to a huge blaze at Morehead Tavern. As the emergency services attempt to deal with the incident, the roof and upper floor collapse. Within a matter of hours, the whole building is razed to the ground. At this point nobody knows how it started, though there’s no shortage of speculation (“insurance fraud — it’s hardly ever open”) and incurious comments (“nobody ever goes there anymore”). Meanwhile older folks feel the need to mourn the loss of an old friend, and start sharing their treasured memories on social media.

Surrounded by prime real estate, I’m sure the demolition will soon make way for another office building and it’ll seem like The Cellar never existed. Gone maybe, but for one generation never to be forgotten.

(Copyright 2025) E. Mark Windle is an independent freelance writer and biographer. He has also worked as a senior writer with Story Terrace (London, UK), and for Sheridan Hill / Real Life Stories LLC (North Carolina, USA). To discuss services, contact Mark via https://windlefreelance.com/contact/