At Salisbury's Headquarters Live, final bow is bittersweet

One by one, friends and acquaintances made their way across a dimly lit Headquarters Live to pay their respects to the man widely considered the Delmarva Peninsula's foremost champion of local music.

They would lean their mouths close to "K.T." Tuminello's ear. An impish smile would spread across his gaunt face. Then a hug, maybe a selfie, and he was alone again with his music.

For one last night, it was like old times. But each band and each song brought Salisbury's prime live music venue that much closer to going out of business. 

Two and a half years after its debut kindled hopes that downtown had found its focal point, Headquarters Live is shutting off the lights for the last time. Although two more events are scheduled, both on Aug. 5, the marquee outside advertised the July 22 show as the "Closing Party."

After some renovations, the former firehouse is set to be leased starting this fall as the The Daily Times office. The newspaper is relocating from the Northwood Industrial Park on the north side of town. 

The property's owner, Salisbury-based Devreco, has blamed the closure on the South Division Street venue's declining financial fortunes. The conversion to office space should bring consistent energy to the building — and to downtown in general, said Joey Gilkerson, one of Devreco's principals.

By all accounts, however, Headquarters Live's departure leaves a monumental absence in the area's music community. . 

So on the music played that Saturday evening at Headquarters.

Through the night. Into the next morning. Drowning out the rain that fell in gray sheets outside. Punctuating the lightning that streaked across the sky while generating its own electricity inside.

It also happened to be Tuminello's birthday, his 36th. There was more reason than usual to celebrate the occasion because, a year earlier, he wasn't sure he would live to see it.

The night played out like his own personal mix tape. Tuminello had been the venue's booking agent until illness forced him to step aside the previous summer. Now, he was back, and these were his favorite bands.

His people. His friends.

At 12:42 a.m., all that was left was for Tuminello to strap on his own guitar and play — but not before one final message to Headquarters Live's staunchest advocates.

"It's bittersweet because we're saying goodbye to this place," he said, a microphone booming his voice into every corner of the cavernous space. "When this place closes, keep supporting live music in Salisbury. It's not up to me. It's up to you."

Kicking off a night of memories

But that was many hours later. 

The night began and ended on a wet note. The rain pivoted throughout the evening between a smattering of drops to all-out squalls. The soggy forecast prevented the venue from throwing open its garage doors and likely depressed the event's turnout.

About three dozen stalwarts populated the room when the opening act began performing shortly after 8:30 p.m. Tuminello held court at the end of the bar about an arm's length from the stage. He nodded his head to the heavy beat and took sips from a plastic bottle of water.

Alcohol doesn't mix well with chemotherapy, he explained.

Like many of the artists on Tuminello's playlist this evening, the first performer had a local connection. Jeremy Bowers, stage name Scholar Kuwgi, lived in the area in his late teens and early 20s before decamping to Atlanta to pursue a career in hip-hop.

The concert marked his fourth appearance on the Headquarters stage. What kept him coming back, he said after his 15-minute set ended, was the professional atmosphere.

"Any exposure is better than none," Bowers said. "When I came here and saw the venue, I was like, 'Yo.' It felt like the closest thing to a Grammy performance."

He also was drawn in by the venue's receptiveness to myriad styles of music, a trait he attributed to Tuminello's own eclectic taste.

"He was definitely the glue," Bowers said.

A scene dissolves

Born in Louisiana and raised in Mississippi, Tuminello moved to Salisbury in his mid-teens. He found his footing in Delmarva's music scene, playing in bands such as Hot Meals, Continuum, Tron and Soul Priority.

In the 1990s and early 2000s, he and other musicians say, booking a gig in Salisbury was no problem. Live performances were common at popular hangouts such as the Monkey Barrel, Break Time Sports Grill and the Bottle Factory. 

Then, something happened. All of those venues closed. No one was hiring live acts to play anymore.

"Everyone started hiring DJs," Tuminello said.

Local artists have different theories about what caused the music scene to crumble.

Young people would rather play video games or watch performances on YouTube than pay for a ticket and venture out of their homes, some say.

"Internet, cellphones," said Sean "Sauce" Cummins, a guitarist with the Laurel, Delaware,-based hard-rock band Silence No More. "You can download it for free and play it at your own house. They're taking art out of schools, man."

Chris Carroll, the group's bass player, pronounced Headquarters Live "the last of a music scene."

"We're going to have to go back to playing house parties," said Jason Bennett, the lead singer.

Challenges with booking acts

Tuminello said he had no experience as a booking agent, but he knew the industry as well as anyone in the area. His goals were to book acts that reflected Salisbury's diversity and generate enough gate receipts and alcohol sales to keep the venue in the black.

There were shows just about every weekend. Attendance varied. Sometimes, an act would bring in so many people that the garage doors would have to be flung open to take advantage of the near-1,000 person capacity. Other times, a handful of souls might show up.

Tuminello scored big and turned more than a few heads when he signed national acts to perform. But the sight of Buckcherry, the Drive-By Truckers or another well-known headliner was a rarity.

The size of the 1920s-era building posed a challenge, Tuminello said. A local act might play in front of 50 or so fans, but the place would still look empty. With an indoor capacity of about 350, it was too small for most big-name performers.

Another factor: The Salisbury market simply won't bear a show ticketed at $50 or higher, he said. Whenever he was able to lure in a known quantity, it was usually because he cut a deal with an act happy to sneak in a show between other, more profitable dates in the region.

As Gilkerson sees it, Tuminello did all he could to make Headquarters a viable performance space.

"K.T. is/was the backbone and heartbeat of the organization," he said in a statement. "His passion drove it and kept it alive for as long as it did. I will forever be grateful that (Headquarters) gave me the opportunity to meet and get to know someone so passionate about the music scene in Salisbury."

'A bump in the road'

The closing party's audience ebbed and flowed with each act Saturday, reaching a maximum of about 200 at about 10 p.m. 

John "Westy" Przylepa, one of those attendees, has been a music fan long enough to have seen Jimi Hendrix perform in person — twice. When asked for his assessment of this moment in the history of Salisbury's music scene, he shook his head in befuddlement.

"I really felt Salisbury was on the way. I felt they were right there. This isn't a major setback, but it's a bump in the road."

In a way, Headquarters was trying to swim upstream, said Bryan Russo as he hung out backstage before his set. Most booking agents in Salisbury and Ocean City are looking for cover acts who are "below a notch on the special on the menu," he said.

Tuminello, Russo said, "drew a line in the sand and said, 'This is going to be a professional venue, and it's going to be great.' Unfortunately, it's going to go down as a place ahead of its time."

The band plays on

As of Monday morning, Tuminello was out of a job. But he was not short on his trademark optimism.

He has his radio show on 90.7 WSDL on Friday nights, and he is working as a consultant with a second station, 94.9 WAMS, on an in-studio live music venture. And he has offered his help to the city of Salisbury when it opens a planned amphitheater on the waterfront next to the La Quinta hotel.

For now, Tuminello is just happy to be alive.

Last year, he began suffering three to four seizures a day. The symptoms were from out of nowhere. When doctors operated on his brain to quell his seizures, they discovered an aggressive form of cancer.

The disease is difficult to treat because the tumors are scattered around the brain like bits of salt, Tuminello said. Since his diagnosis, the 5-foot-7-inch Tuminello has seen his weight plummet from more than 200 pounds to 147.

Headquarters' management showed its appreciation for him, hosting one of two fundraisers that helped him climb out of medical debt.

He was back Saturday to show his own appreciation. As his makeshift band jammed on the closing tune of the night, a cover of the Grateful Dead's "Franklin's Tower," it seemed like the song would last forever.

And in this version of the story, Tuminello never puts his instrument down. He just keeps playing, trading guitar solos with his friends.

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