He Built It. They Came.
by Evan Gillespie

I remember well the first time I stepped into Piere's. It was 1995, and, on a whim, I bought tickets to see Extreme play at the club. Piere's had been bringing national acts to Fort Wayne for several years, but I'd never been there -- and I was excited by the chance to see a popular band in a small venue right here in my hometown.

By the time the show was over, I was convinced of a couple of things. I was convinced that Extreme was being shortchanged by being defined by "More Than Words," the 80s power ballad that was its biggest hit; the band's front man, Gary Cherone, had the charisma to win over any real rock n' roll fan (and it would be several years before Eddie Van Halen would conspire to prove me wrong). I was also convinced that I'd be coming back to Piere's often.

What led me to both conclusions was the unique atmosphere of Piere's. The main room is big -- big enough to accommodate national performers -- but it's small enough to let the audience develop a real connection to the performers. That's why I was able to see in Gary Cherone what Eddie Van Halen saw, and what people who simply stay at home and listen to CDs were unable to see. I stood 10 feet from the stage, and I was impressed.

If that up-close-and-personal benefit was the only thing to recommend Piere's, it would be enough, but the club would be no different from other mid-sized clubs around the region, like the Vogue in Indianapolis or Bogart's in Cincinnati. But Piere's is different. Very different.

Stan Liddell, the owner of Piere's, created the unusual entertainment center partially by accident, partially according to a carefully constructed plan. He initially intended his role in the Marketplace of Canterbury to be that of a landlord. He was doing a good job of it, increasing the occupancy of the shopping center to nearly 100%, when the bottom dropped out. It was the late 80s, and the country was stumbling toward recession, sending many small businesses into a downward spiral. The death blow for the Marketplace came when the city began construction on St. Joe Road, effectively putting an end to easy access to the shopping center. The construction also effectively put an end to many of the Marketplace's tenants.

Those economic circumstances were the accidental part of Liddell's entrance into the entertainment business. It was when he realized that he needed to do something to save his investment that the carefully constructed plan came into play. His theory was that the Marketplace needed a destination point as its focus, a reason for people to work their way through the frustrating construction. Shopping wasn't enough of an incentive, but what if he offered an entertainment experience that couldn't be found anywhere else, in Fort Wayne or the Midwest?

The complex that would become Piere's started modestly, growing outward from a club, Brubaker's, which occupied the space now claimed by Cyb@r.club. Growth into a full-fledged entertainment center as gradual but steady.

The club on the north side of the complex was originally called 100 Bottles of Beer on the Wall, then it became Coach's Corner, a short-lived tie-in with the Fort Wayne Fury. In November of 1994, the club became Crooners, the full-time karaoke establishment that it is now.

In the fall of 1994, the country music club in the heart of the complex opened, complete with a mechanical bull. The original name of the club was Stetson Connection, but that only lasted until the hat people threatened to sue. A name change (to Country Connection) made everyone happy.

The original club on the south side of the complex was evolving, too. Brubaker's became Hooter O'Tool's (or, more simply, HOTS). When Snickerz Comedy Bar moved into its own building elsewhere in the Marketplace, Liddell's complex took advantage of the extra space, breaking through a wall and creating yet another club, the state-of-the-art game room called Hackers. In 1994, the complex got one more twist when the internet craze turned HOTS into the Cyb@r.club.

The most recent additions to the complex are Picasso's Garden and Picasso's, banquet hall and catering facilities that opened between 1993 and 1994.

All these clubs were taking shape around the massive main room that gave the complex its name -- a name that was not without some minor controversy of its own.

"Stan originally called it Pieri's, after [long-time employee] Deb Pieri," recalls Sandy Golden, Piere's Entertainment Director. "It was sort of a French theme, but the family asked that we not use their name. So we changed it to Piere's. We had to change one letter on the letterhead."

And for anyone who's ever complained that "Piere's" is spelled incorrectly: Liddell is aware of it. Apparently "Pierre's" was already trademarked when he made the name change.

When it's time to book acts into the club, Liddell is no dictator. He defers to the expertise of others in picking performers, preferring to remain on the business end of the operations.

"I don't hear music," he admits. "I don't get emotional about it. I'm the kind of guy you want to send to buy a used car for you."

The national acts that come to Piere's have changed along with the venue, according to Golden, who books all the club's national shows.

"We started out working with an agent in Michigan," she says, "and it was on-the-job training, making mistakes and figuring out what works and what doesn't. Our first shows were with bands like Blue Oyster Cult and Molly Hatchet, bands that have been touring constantly, who aren't afraid to take a risk on an unknown room. Eventually, we made a connection with Sunshine Promotions, and we started getting more current bands. Now all the major agents -- ICM, CAA -- know us. And the bands know us. They talk to each other. The people who work with different bands spread the word, and bands who've never played here know about us. We heard that 3 Doors Down [who played at the Memorial Coliseum with Creed last week] wanted to come see the room because they've heard so much about us."

What they've heard is that Piere's spares no expense to give the performers what they need (or simply what they want). A newly remodeled backstage area is enough to make even the pickiest prima donna happy.

"We do everything we can to feed them and take care of them," says Golden. "When they're here, it's their room."

On the stage itself, the equipment -- and the people who run it -- is more than most bands expect. Production Manager Chip McDonough and Lighting Director Doug Call have eight years of experience and 800 to 900 shows between them and some of the best equipment money can buy at their disposal. They deal directly with the bands' management, planning the show and making sure everything will be ready when the band walks through the door. It's not all hard work, though.

"It's a fun business," says McDonough. "That makes it easy to come to work. I like the people, and I get to work at night. I'm a night owl."

The fact that performers love the room makes the concert experience at Piere's even better for the audience. Never before have I seen a venue where performers are as comfortable with the room and the crowd. Performers like Chris Whitley, Better Than Ezra and Big Bad Voodoo Daddy routinely hang out in the club, having a beer before or after their sets. Something about the atmosphere of Piere's makes the barrier between musician and fan evaporate. It's not unheard of for a performer to end up in Crooners, singing with fans until the wee hours.

"I think it was the singer from Candlebox," recalls Media Director Bret Sanders, "who was in Crooners singing until 3 a.m."

Perhaps it shouldn't be surprising that even famous musicians can be drawn in by the allure of the entertainment center. There's almost too much to do, and the place seems to be improving every day. Over in the Cyb@r.club, the call of dance music is irresistible to many area residents, as evidenced by the fact that it was chosen as favorite dance club in the whatzup readers poll three years in a row. The place has changed a lot, and house DJ X-Man (who was going by his daytime name, Brian Strahm, when I talked to him) has seen it all.

"The style of music has changed tremendously," he says. "When I started [almost 13 years ago at HOTS], it was mostly break-dancing, old school stuff."

Things have changed so much that on a Wednesday night back in March of 1994, a hip-hop act from Detroit played in the club and didn't cause much of a stir at all. It wasn't until the act's front man changed his name to Kid Rock and got lots of exposure on MTV that he was able to fill the Coliseum.

But some things haven't changed.

"There are some people who have been coming as long as I've been here," says Strahm. "What I like about the job is the party, leavin' your worries at the door."

Even in the administrative offices high above the main room, most of the worries seem to have been left outside on the sidewalk. The place is alive with activity, but for the most part, everyone seems to be having a good time. It's a fundamental part of the Piere's philosophy that anyone who comes in from the outside, whether it's a performer or a customer, is important and deserving of the best possible treatment from employees -- but the employees themselves seem to be treated with just as much respect.

Graphic designer Nathan Stephens sits in front of a big computer screen, preparing a large full-color poster for output on the 36-inch-wide color printer. It's a far cry from the black-and-white photocopied posters and flyers of not so long ago.

"I love designing the huge concert posters. It makes the job a lot more fun, playing with colors and effects, and I have a lot of creative freedom."

In an adjacent office, Marketing Manager Mark Thaler produces promotional videos using digital video editing equipment that wasn't even invented when he began work at Piere's.

"We used to have to send out-of-house to do things like this," Thaler says of the videos he creates for television and the center's in-house monitors. "Now the equipment is affordable enough that we can do it here."

The posters and videos are part of a marketing machine, driven by Thaler and Sanders, that jumps into motion as soon as a show is booked. Faxes go out to hundreds of radio stations around the region in an attempt to draw patrons from outlying areas. And it works.

"If you walk around the parking lot during a show," says Sanders, "you see license plates from all over. We've had people come here from the Upper Peninsula of Michigan."

Patrons come from all over the region because there's really nothing like Piere's -- anywhere.

"Nothing like this concept has been copied anywhere," says Liddell. "I've had people from all over the country wanting me to develop something like this in their area, but I don't want to do it. Kenny Rogers wanted me to do one on Music Row [in Nashville]. I tell them that they're welcome to come here and look around and get ideas, but I don't want to be involved."

Liddell has plenty to keep him busy right here in Fort Wayne. Piere's is constantly evolving. Equipment is being updated all the time, and there are other physical changes to contend with (such as moving the support post in front of the stage that is one of the main room's few flaws). And always in the background is Liddell's dream of one day expanding the complex even further, including a top-of-the-line restaurant that would take advantage of the Marketplace's riverfront. The track record of the complex makes the prospect of successful future ventures seem pretty bright.

"In the beginning," says Sanders, "there were naysayers telling us we'd never make it. Seven hundred concerts later, and we're still here."

Copyright 2000 Ad Media Inc.