Jazz And A Joynt

Written by Lee Schmidt

University of Wisconsin – Eau Claire

Lee knew he wanted to be a professional writer at the age of 12. His career would take him to ad agencies in Minneapolis and then to Madison, Wisconsin, writing for nearly all media including his favorites, TV and radio. While a degree in journalism looked good on his resume, it was his immersion in writing sketch comedy and performing on stage that developed the sense of humor advertising in the 1980s and ‘90s required.

Now retired, Lee has discovered a new passion: drawing portraits. “A few people have told me I have a gift for drawing,” Lee says. “I do not. My gift is my desire to draw. It insists that I draw regularly. That I explore various techniques. That I look at faces in ways I never did before.” He has no idea where this new-found desire comes from. But, Lee says, “It appears to have a stranglehold on me.”

Lee is married to Sherry. They have four daughters, two dogs, and one fine relationship.

Website |  Instagram

Hosted and produced by Peter Griffith & Rob Wallace; contributing engineer Micheal Henery.

In this episode, we are back in the late 1970s.

We hear a love story of sorts. A true story of Lee Schmidt, a young man who walks into a local college bar at the University of Wisconsin, Eau Claire, and meets someone that will change his life forever. Only, it’s probably not what you think. 

Find out how the world can sound so much larger if you have an open mind, and ear, to hear it.

Published February 13, 2025

[ 1970’s Country Western music ]

HOST:  Today on campus, we’re back again in the 1970s. At the start of the decade, in the state of Wisconsin, the sale of alcohol has been reduced to the age of 18. In the bars, and some dorms at the University of Wisconsin in Eau Claire, you’ll find plenty of Lein-ease and two main beers brewed from the local Walter Brewing Company – Bub’s Beer and Indian Head Country Beer. Both come in pull tab cans.

[ Pull tab sound ]

In today’s episode, we hear a classic, timeless tale of a young man at college who walks into a bar and meets someone that will change his life forever. Only, it’s probably not how you think.

Stay tuned for this true story, a lesson in life not found in textbooks or online lectures or anywhere even near a classroom – The world will sound so much larger if you have an open mind, and ear, to hear it.

[ Podcast theme music ]

This is Once, In College. I’m Pete Griffith. Today’s episode was written by Lee Schmidt. Lee started his career writing for his college newspaper and ended up retiring as an award-winning creative director in advertising, writing for TV, video, digital, radio, print, outdoor and, in his own words, doing his best to avoid direct mail.

[ Bells from campus tower ]

But more on Lee later, class is about to begin.

[ Jazz music ]

NARRATOR:  Jazz is an acquired taste. Not everyone warms up to it. Some people can take a little of it. But I can take A LOT of it. It’s not something I grew up with. On the contrary. But despite my upbringing, I learned to love jazz.

I grew up with three older brothers and an older sister who all loved BOTH kinds of music as they say—country AND western. When I was seven, an older brother took me to see Johnny Cash—live—at a small theater in northeast Wisconsin. A few years later, our family went to a local high school where we saw the Grand Ole Opry touring show live on stage.

Then in high school, when country-rock took hold—the Eagles, the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band—I bought those records and wore ‘em out.

In the mid ‘70s when I was in college—the University of Wisconsin, Eau Claire—country rock was still going strong. I managed the campus coffeehouse for a while and booked folk and country artists like Robin and Linda Williams, best known for their many performances on The Prairie Home Companion radio program.

To mix things up, I booked a jazz guitarist—Sandy Nassan—for a weeklong gig. It was the first time I’d heard jazz live. And although Sandy was an instrumentalist who never sang a single word, I imagined lyrics in my head as I listened to him play.

[ Coffeehouse sound, jazz guitar music ]

After one performance, I told Sandy I could hear words to his songs—songs that didn’t have any written lyrics. He replied, “Yeah, that’s always my hope. That a few people in the audience will make the song their own.”

At the end of his engagement, Sandy said, “You know, Lee, I need a little favor. I’m going to be on the road for a while, and I don’t want to haul all my records around with me. Can you hold onto them until I come back this way?” He had a milk crate full of jazz albums. “You can play them if you want,” he said.

[ Record player, jazz music ]

And so that semester I dipped a toe into jazz. In that milk crate I discovered recordings by Chet Baker, Dave Brubeck, and Lester Young. I fell hard for the seductive voices of Etta James and Sarah Vaughn. I simply couldn’t get enough of the cool, West Coast sound made popular by the Modern Jazz Quartet with the masterful Milt Jackson on vibraphone.

[ Vibraphone music ]

Near the Eau Claire campus there’s a street lined with bars, restaurants, places that cater to college students. One bar is called simply The Joynt. J-O-Y-N-T. Unlike most taverns near campus, The Joynt attracted both college kids and townies. The owner—Bill Nolte—was a visual artist, a transplant from New York who loved music. Had the best juke box in town. Maybe in all of Wisconsin.

But he didn’t stop there. Bill would hear about world-class musicians who were traveling between gigs in Minneapolis and Chicago and book them for one-night stands at his bar.

Now The Joynt was long and narrow, like old bars are. It had the proportions of an ice cube tray. And it wasn’t much bigger. Bill would install makeshift bleachers at one end, move the pool table out at the other, and set up the band so that maybe—maybe—a hundred people could squeeze in to see a show.

The artists who played the Joynt? A murders’ row of folk, jazz, and blues artists. The great jazz pianist Bill Evans who earned 31 Grammy nominations and seven Grammies. Folk singer Rambin’ Jack Elliott. Odetta, often referred to as the Voice of the Civil Rights Movement. Bass player Charlie Mingus and iconic horn player Dizzy Gillespie, both Grammy Lifetime Achievement Award winners.

I didn’t initially go the Joynt for the live music. Bill charged 25 cents for a 7-ounce tap beer. That was not the happy hour price. It was the day in and day out price. Cheap beer and college buddies pulled me into the Joynt. Once there, I met Bill and for whatever reason he took a shine to me.

Bill told me I needed to see the next band he had booked—Woody Herman and His Thundering Herd. It was jazz, and I was intrigued, but didn’t have the money, whatever it was–$5 or $10–for the price of a ticket. So Bill gave me one. Just put it in my hand, free of charge.

The night of the show, I got there early and sat right up front. Bill probably had something to do with that, too.

Woody Herman, in case you’re not a jazz fan, was a long-time swing band leader. Woody’s music was more progressive, more edgy than the typical big band sound. He played clarinet and sax, had many hits on the charts, and earned a couple of gold records, including one for the jazz standard “Woodchoppers Ball.” Keep in mind Woody released “Woodchoppers” in 1939 when there were about 200 million fewer people in the country. EVERYONE was buying that record in the ‘40s.

Woody’s touring band was comprised of 16—yes, 16, I counted them—16 hand-picked, up-and-coming young musicians, lined up four across and four rows deep. I sat so close, I practically had to duck when a trombone player cleared his spit valve.

[ 16 piece swing jazz band ]

The band played four sets between 8 and midnight. During a break, I walked a foot and a half over to the bar, and Woody and I stood elbow to elbow ordering our drinks. Jack, the bartender, served me a “Lein-ease” (short for Leinkugels) tap without me even asking. Woody, dressed in a dark green suit with a pant crease so sharp you could cut a steak with it, ordered something in a glass with ice. I didn’t want to bother him so I said nothing. Likewise, no one around us spoke to him. He didn’t seem aloof, just road weary from years of touring.

When he stepped away from the bar and onto the stage, his five-foot, eight-inch frame moved with a practiced ease. Later I would learn Woody—as a child—had been a tap dancer in Vaudeville.

I was in the presence of a jazz legend that night. I knew I’d never again experience someone of that stature, that close up, leading his band and blowing his instrument loud and with such passion and joy. I was now fully immersed in this extraordinary thing called jazz.

A few years ago my wife Sherry and I returned to Eau Claire where she also had attended college. We slipped into the Joynt mid-day and…Bill was still there. I introduced myself and told him I had seen Woody Herman and his band back in the 1970s. Without missing a beat Bill looked at me and said, “You’re a lucky man.”

[ Jazz music ]

Damn right, Bill. Lucky to have met you, lucky to have discovered jazz in my youth, and to have fallen in love with it for life.

HOST:  Today’s episode was produced by Rob Wallace and myself, with a special shout out to Michael Henery for the sound engineering finesse.

We want to thank Lee Schmidt again for sharing and writing about his look back on his musical journey, one that really took off back in school. It reminds us that some of the most important things you learn about in college aren’t from what you majored in, and often don’t happen in class or even on campus. Lee has embarked on a new artistic journey, drawing line-art portraits of the famous, the infamous, and every day people. Check them out at leeschmidt.com and follow his Instagram account: lee_harrison_schmidt. Which reminds us…

[ College marching band  music ]

We‘re also on the lookout for unique or unusual college experiences so visit us at onceincollege.com and share one of your own. And you know the drill but we’ll ask anyway. Please give us a like, subscribe, or share this episode with someone. All that really helps us more than you’d think. At least, more than our GPAs ever did.

Finally, for those of you wondering, The Joynt is still there on Water Street. You can’t get a Bub’s Beer or Indian Head Country Beer there anymore. The Walter Brewing Company is long gone. As is the band stage, which has long been boarded up for storage. But if you ever get a chance to go in, saddle up to the bar and look up. You’ll see a few of those cans proudly on display. Along with portraits of some of the most iconic artists in American history who on any given night in the 70s, shook the rafters off Bill’s place with their music.

Until then, I’m Pete Griffith, back next week with more stories like this, all from a time Once, In College.

[ Podcast theme music ]