Sad news came through yesterday that Chick Ratten, former owner of The Rainbow Hotel in Fitzroy, passed away yesterday while on holiday in Germany with his wife Ursula.
Our thoughts go out to his family. Below is an excerpt from an editorial I wrote in January this year about Chick and The Rainbow on his retirement from the pub.
OVER THE RAINBOW
While this inner-city pub had apparently offered music since the 1930’s it was under the ownership of Chick Ratten and his wife Ursula during the past 16 years – just a little longer than the history of this magazine – that the pub opened its doors to musicians seven nights a week and several weekend afternoons. When the bands were not playing you could hear only Australian music on CD.
Legend has it that Chick Ratten was either a New Zealand cycling champion or coach but he looked like he might have been a former middleweight boxer. He was a tireless supporter of Rhythms for its first decade or so and he would constantly challenge me with the offer of a free slab of Boags if we could get the magazine out on time.
It was his insistent harangue every time I walked through the door and something of an incentive. When I finally produced an edition that actually arrived early Chick reluctantly offered to pay with VB but I declined, figuring that he had shouted me enough beers by then anyway.
Chick would often tell me that he didn’t have to advertise in Rhythms but liked to support it because his was one of the few venues to advertise in it and therefore his artwork stood out. Coming from him that was almost flattering. After the magazine became more national but remained erratic he lost the impetus, which did not stop me from going to the pub.
Of course, the Rainbow was not ‘world famous’ as Chick like to call it. However, I do know that many Rhythms writers and readers from interstate would make it a stop on their visits to Melbourne. So ‘nationally famous’ would not be inaccurate. The pub did play host to some high profile international guests such as Eric Burdon and Long John Baldry, though it is doubtful that they had ever heard of it beforehand and probably wondered what they had got themselves into when they walked through its humble portals.
The Rainbow was an old pub, probably built in the late 1900s, on the corner of St David Street in the middle of Fitzroy, just near thriving Brunswick Street. There was a small stage evident at one end of the main room near the entrance but the centre of the room was dominated by the large bar – meaning that most people in two-thirds of the room had to look across the beers taps and shelves to see the bands.
Apparently, there was a PA system for the bands but it was hardly noticeable until it started to occasionally feedback when pushed too hard. The control panel was on the wall near the band. I don’t recall ever seeing a ‘sound person’ as such but the musicians would often fiddle daringly – and without much effect – with the numerous buttons. The fact that small lights flashed on and off was somewhat reassuring.
A smaller room, beyond the cigarette machine in the hallway next to the stairs, acted as a restaurant on and off for many years. Sometimes the food was excellent but it depended on who was running the franchise at the time. I ate there several times and survived. The laminex tables and practical chairs were an unintentionally post-modern touch. Eventually, Chick gave up on providing food and the room became a de facto lounge.
Over the years The Rainbow was given a few modifications, such as a beer garden and a side entrance, but inside it remained pretty much as it had been for decades. Rhythms once had its Christmas party there – due to some sort of contra deal that had been done unbeknownst to me. I even managed to get along to it after someone inadvertently mentioned that it was on!
One major brewery apparently had offered to help renovate the pub and shift the bar to the side of the room, which sounded like a good idea to me, but Chick resisted that sort of change. I guess he felt it would turn it into something resembling many of the other trendy bars in Fitzroy catering to the alternative arts and music fringe dwellers. It was like an oasis of reality in a desert of pseudo-intellectual puffery. You might talk about Sartre and the meaning of existence at one of the cafés down the road but at the Rainbow you could still talk about footy and music and what a bunch of wankers everyone else was.
My favourite night was Mondays, where Paul Williamson’s Hammond Combo had a residency for more than twelve years. Here you could not only see a cracking band but some fantastic guests, such as Geoff Achison, who would sit in and jam and make the night really special. A Doug Sahm tribute night was another special, unforgettable event.
I should have gone more often but at least for a while I was there nearly every Monday night – which was sometimes more often than Chick on that night. He would always say to me, ‘I fuckin’ hate jazz.’ I think he also used to say it to the musicians. Nothing personal. He was blunt and never beat around the bush to save your feelings. I guess you had to be tough to run a pub full-time – and he ran it in spite of some health problems with his legs.
Over the past few years many upwardly mobile people had moved into the area as apartments sprang up at random. Some of these people – the ones Chick referred to as ‘pains in the arse’ (to which I agree) – decided that they would like to enjoy the quiet of their former outer suburban existence in the middle of the city. Chick spent tens of thousands of dollars on soundproofing so that these snotty-nosed yuppies and dinkies could sleep quietly. In a few years time they will be complaining that the neighbourhood lacks character! I despise these people even more than Chick did.
I know the constant carping and fines took its toll on Chick and even his devotion to Australian music could not keep him waging the good fight forever. So I salute Chick and Ursula Ratten, thank them for their support and reluctantly close a page in my musical history.
