Hush, Little Venue

Despite the violent, electric connotations, Mark Ward’s “Fighting With Lightning Again” isn’t an especially explosive song. He doesn’t squeal or scream; he’s not a punk or a thrasher. He plays folk music.

But a month ago, in the middle of “Lightning” at the Rocket Market patio on the South Hill, his song was interrupted. The cops are here, he was told, and they want you to turn off the amplification.

“It’s definitely not get-shut-down-by-the-police music,” Ward says.

Most music at the Rocket Market was similarly tame. For 10 years, the Rocket has hosted summer concerts. Crowds grew from 50 to 200.

Some neighbors like the occasional concert. Tom Treloar says his family would set out chairs on their front lawn and listen. But when the concert went from twice a week to three times, some neighbors felt it was too much. And too loud.

One older woman said that, even with her hearing aid off and the window closed, she could hear the words to the songs. A 13-year-old girl rolls her eyes and gives a big thumbs down, literally, to the Rocket Market concerts.

Multiple neighbors complained to the police. One complainant formally asked the city for every public record relating to Rocket Market. That’s when police officer Max Hewitt made the watershed discovery: Rocket’s entertainment license only covered indoor music.

Without a special events permit — $100 for a single event — the Rocket Market could not legally have outdoor music.

Nor, technically, could Isabella’s or Empyrean or Caterina Winery or the dozens of other venues with outdoor entertainment. All of those venues have been breaking the city law, presumably, for years.

On Friday, Aug. 4, Rocket co-owner Alan Shepherd was served with a cease-and-desist order. No more music.

Musicians, predictably, made some noise.

“That’s bullshit,” says Patrick McHenry of Mon Cheri, which had their Sunday Rocket Market concert cancelled. “There’s a lot of retarded f---ing laws and rules that govern music.”

This, only months after many indoor music venues were threatened, from state requirements with having to install expensive new sprinkler systems.

Blogs, Facebook notes, and newsletters pleaded the Rocket Market’s case. E-mails flooded the City Council and mayor’s office. 

On Thursday morning, Shepherd met with Hewitt, City Council members Richard Rush and Michael Allen, and city administrator Ted Danek to discuss what’s needed to comply with (and perhaps alter) the municipal code. They might even find a temporary solution to allow Rocket to finish their summer concert series.

“From what I can gather, they are 100 percent confident that by next spring, they would have a law that would be written to allow [outdoor music events],” Shepherd says.

Hewitt says he presented additional language for the city ordinance, allowing live music outdoors as long as it ends by 10 pm, complies with any police officers’ volume requests, and follows the noise ordinances.

But the Spokane noise ordinance, as it stands, remains a huge problem for any outdoor concert that people can, well, hear. As one example of “public disturbance” noise, the ordinance cites “sounds from… band sessions… which are audible at a distance greater than fifty feet from the source of such sounds at any time.”

“Good lord, 50 feet? That’s, like, five car lengths,” McHenry says. “Most music can travel farther than 50 feet.”

In fact, a lot of things are audible from 50 feet away. We tested it. You can hear the strumming of an unplugged acoustic guitar. Normal human conversation. Not to mention the ever-present sound of traffic whooshing past on High Drive. At Rocket Market concerts, 50 feet wouldn’t even reach the end of the crowd.

Before 2003, the noise ordinance was vague, short and required a witness to testify in court to convict. Unsurprisingly, very few did. The rule was toothless.

Today, the code’s a lot more specific. It was revised, Hewitt says, to give police the power to combat boom boxes and raging house parties. Hewitt wasn’t involved in the process, but he hears that cities like Lewiston, Idaho, were used to determine the 50-foot rule.

In larger cities known for their music scenes, the rules are looser. Portland, for example, has a similar 50-foot rule, but puts a specific decibel stipulation on it. Until 10 pm, commercial-to-residential noise is limited to 60 decibels. That’s about the sound of a normal conversation or, well, background music. In Seattle, the limit is 55 decibels.

That sounds like a fine idea to Shepherd. “See, that would be terrific, if I had some sort of measurement I could go by,” he says. At least compared to being at the mercy of a few intractable objectors.

But Spokane police officers, Hewitt explains, don’t carry decibel meters. Those are expensive. The current system gives police officers plenty of latitude to use common sense, he says, and to take specifics into consideration. Nevertheless, the Spokane noise ordinance — including the 50-foot rule — is also something subject to revision.

In the meantime, musicians and people like Isamu Jordan, who ran the Rocket Market concerts, encourage Spokane residents make their opinions known.

Sign this petition, he pleads on his blog, thesomshow.com. Contact the City Council. Make your voice heard.

Though not, we warn you, from more than 50 feet away.