TAMPA, Fla. — Any working musician will tell you that some performance venues are special. There are countless, charmless strip-mall bars that host original local music—and they’re fine, and bands and songwriters are thankful to have them as an outlet for their creative endeavors.

But some places have a personality, a character, a magic all their own. They’re the pubs and bars and theaters that musicians get excited about booking. The players don’t even worry about whether or not anybody’s going to show up; they’re just happy to be in the room, because the room—or the courtyard, or the side lot—has that something extra, and has built a fanbase loyal not only to the events it hosts, but to the place itself.

The Tampa Bay area has boasted many of these special venues over the years, from the long-gone Club Detroit in St. Pete and Stone Lounge in Tampa to the (so far) still-vital Jannus Landing and Crowbar. These weren’t and aren’t just places to go see a band. These were and are community checkpoints, as personal, important and sacred as the local church or mosque or synagogue is to the devout.

And now, one of Tampa’s most unique and iconic playgrounds for live-music fans finds itself at a crossroads.

“We’re closed,” Skipper’s Smokehouse Director of Marketing and Public Relations Cricket Larson states flatly. “The business is for sale.”

(Image by Scott Harrell)

Located in north Tampa, miles from such nightlife hotspots as Ybor City and Seminole Heights, Skipper’s existed in a world of its own for 40 years, booking national blues and folk headliners, benefit tribute acts and local original music to equal enthusiasm. Often, it seemed like it didn’t matter who was onstage; sure, they came for the tunes, but they also came to hang out and eat the blackened grouper reuben and catch up with the various members of their tribe. They came because it was Skipper’s.

“For me and other local musicians, it was the place where we shared the stage with our heroes, and we felt like peers,” says Michael Hoag, bassist for bluesy southern rock outfit Cottondale Swamp.

Guitarist Mark Warren has played Skipper’s countless times in a variety of bands, including The Leonard Croon Band, Sarge & the Aeromen and The Sara Rose Band. He even worked there doing publicity and creating concert posters. He’s got a lot of fond memories of the place.

“I started playing gigs at Skipper’s in the mid-’90s, and then like the electric razor guy who liked it so much he bought the company, I joined the ‘rudderless ship’ in 2008 as a venue manager as well as handling advertising and marketing,” he says. “It’s Tuesday, September 2, 1997 and The Leonard Croon Band is playing. I’d been emailing with a gal I’d gotten to know on one of AOL’s music message boards, and I invited her to my band’s show at the Skipperdome. I clearly recall first laying my eyes on her and I’m pretty sure I said ‘wow’ out loud because I’m smooth like that. We’ve been together ever since, married for 12 years now.”

As a lifelong musician and former music critic, I have more than a little personal experience when it comes to Skipper’s Smokehouse. I’ve probably played that stage more than three dozen times. Bands I’ve been in have opened for bigger artists as diverse as ‘90s college-rock favorites Cracker and underground Celtic-pop outfit The Prodigals. I’ve played songs by The Rolling Stones, The Clash, Creedence Clearwater Revival and others during fundraising shows for Tampa’s nonprofit community radio station WMNF 88.5 FM. I’ve eaten homemade grape leaves brought by volunteers backstage while Grateful Dead tribute act Uncle John’s Band jammed and shredded.

What stands out most in my memory, though, isn’t a single show or incident, but rather an overall feeling of warmth, camaraderie, community. Skipper’s wasn’t just a venue. Skipper’s was a scene, an inclusive and welcoming one, whether you were into punk or hip-hop or folk or jam bands.

Larson has her own stand-out moments over the nine years of her tenure, as well.

“Musically, it would be any night with Ralph Stanley and The Clinch Mountain Boys,” she says. “It got to the point where he joked that he wouldn’t come unless I made my banana pudding for him.”

She also remembers drinking Courvoisier for the first time with New Orleans blues legend and regular Skipper’s headliner Tab Benoit. She didn’t like it.

“I’m not much of a drinker,” she says. “I was ready to lick the oak trees backstage to get the taste out of my mouth.”

(Image by Scott Harrell)

With the venue up for sale and owner Tom White ready to retire and spend his days pursuing his other great passion, fishing, the legacy of what Skipper’s has contributed to local music is undeniably intact. The question is, if a buyer is found, will it continue to represent that singular, special vibe in the community?

“I would say that’s our number one goal,” says Larson. “Our preference would be somebody who’s local and understands that Skipper’s is sort of a cog in the wheel of that community, somebody who understands the culture, who we are and what we’ve accomplished, and maybe tweak it slightly but carry it on for future generations."