Live from the Lilly

Kevin Woodring takes the stage, aloof, as he slings the electric guitar over his shoulder. To him, singing is a job. It's nothing to get worried about, it's nothing that causes him anxiety or tension.

But it is a creative outlet. It's a chance for the 26-year-old to sing his own creations, songs based on love and heartbreak.

"I just did to your car what you did to my heart," he bellows. "You are a social disease. You do as you please."

He sings so loud that the customers at the Jersey Lilly have to scream to be heard. Smoke hangs in the air like a veil, and beer bottles leave water marks on the scratched and worn wooden tables.

"Two times together, two times apart," he continues. "Two times you crushed my soul."

As the song concludes, 30-year-old Chris Coffman surveys the room. For a brief moment, no one is calling for her. She sees couples huddled together in dim corners, groups of friends laughing at an inside joke, strangers finding a place where they belong.

"Working here is wonderful," she exclaims. "It's kind of like a 'Cheers' setting. Everyone knows everyone else's names."

For about two years, the Jersey Lilly has been transforming itself from a typical Roseburg tavern to a hot spot of live entertainment. On Tuesdays, a motley crew of local musicians take the stage, playing a mixture of rock 'n' roll and heavy metal. And on Thursdays, the bar is awash with the steady thumping of the blues.

Today is Tuesday. It's 9 p.m., and a mixture of mill workers, telemarketers and music lovers have marked their territory. Tables are strewn with beer bottles and half-empty glasses of wine. A big screen TV is broadcasting a football game in the background, and a new rock band, B.O.K., has taken the stage -- armed with guitars and microphones.

The night is just beginning.

• • • • •

Rich Broyles is a regular. For the past few years, the 52-year-old Winston resident has taken up residence at the Jersey Lilly. If he has his way, he sits in the same chair at the same table to the right of the bar's entrance.

When he comes, he brings his friend Wally Eaton with him. The two agree that the Jersey Lilly is their hangout. They come for the cold beer, and, of course, the music.

"I was being a good boy and he made me come," Eaton jokes. "I like the music. It's very good. It's live."

Broyles is a lab technician for Roseburg Forest Products and Eaton drives a delivery route for Pepsi. What's great about the bar, Broyles maintains, is that each night is different. They get to sit so close to the performers that they could almost reach out and touch them. They see, and hear, the musicians improve their craft each week, and they've grown accustomed to a type of camaraderie they have yet to find anywhere else.

"I guess it's noisy and loud, but you know people, so that's the way it is," Broyles says. "After a while, everyone knows each other. After they come in, everyone has their little cliques and we just go with whatever is happening."

This evening, the duo is joined by a third companion and fellow local, 45-year-old Julie Garcia of Myrtle Creek. She and Broyles met through Yahoo and have been dating for a couple of weeks. Garcia likes Broyles because he's funny. Broyles likes her because she accepts him the way he is.

On their first date, he took her out for breakfast at Seven Feathers Truck & Travel in Canyonville. He had just gotten off the graveyard shift, so when he greeted her he had a day-old beard and was coated in sawdust. Despite his makeshift appearance, he made a good impression. The two have been talking on the phone every day since then.

"I was just myself, that's all I had to offer and wanted to offer," he says, as he strokes Garcia's back.

Garcia smiles, and leans in closer. "He's brought me here twice now. I like it. I like the atmosphere. I like the music. When he first described the place, I thought it was more of a hole in the wall, but it's nicer than I thought."

• • • • •

Michael Martinmaas likes to call attention to himself. Tonight, decked in a canary yellow suit and a Miller Lite straw hat, his presence is unavoidable.

"I'm a newbie, a virgin to the bar," jokes the Roseburg-area resident, cradling a glass of Michelob Amber Bock. "I like Kevin. If it weren't for Kevin, I wouldn't be coming here. He has a beautiful voice."

Ever since he turned 21 years old 11 months ago, Martinmaas has taken advantage of the nightlife at the Jersey Lilly. He loves the live music and the loud and rowdy atmosphere of the place. He knows the regulars, and when he sees an unfamiliar face, he plunks down in an empty chair to find out their story.

As for him, he's a telemarketer for weight loss products. He's mastering how to play the didgeridoo, an Australian aboriginal wind instrument, and he likes people. He's so social in fact, that he brought a disposable camera to the bar recently and took pictures of everyone he met.

When someone asks him a question, he'll rest his chin in his hands, taking the role of an astute philosopher. A few seconds later, he'll erupt into a wide, goofy grin and puff away at a Camel cigarette, a kid again.

Someone, a casual friend, laughs when Martinmaas waxes poetic about his appreciation for fine music and art.

"You should be drinking a glass of wine while you say that, buddy," he joshes.

MUSIC glance <b>WHAT: </b>Live music <b>WHEN: </b>Open mic night runs from 8 to 11 p.m. on Tuesdays, featuring the headlining rock band, B.O.K. On Thursdays, the Skeleton Crew plays blues music from 8 to 11 p.m. <b>WHERE:</b> Jersey Lilly Tavern, 1430 N.E. Dee St. in Roseburg <b>COST:</b> $2 cover <b>INFORMATION:</b> 672-9131

That's all the encouragement Martinmaas needs. His blue eyes light up and he immediately scoots off his chair.

"That's a fine, good idea," he laughs, already halfway to the bar. "I'll go get myself a glass of wine."

• • • • •

Woodring takes a break from performing, spent. But after taking a few slugs of beer, he finds his voice again and begins to chat. He estimates he's had about 350 jobs since the age of 14, working at every fast food place imaginable. He was in and out of reform school during his teen years, and he was homeless for another three -- playing the guitar in front of the Gateway Mall in Springfield for change.

"I played to survive," Woodring says, admitting that he sometimes made as much as $20 an hour. "I felt bad about it."

Throughout the good times and the bad, music acted as Woodring's emotional release. Now, by coming to the Jersey Lilly, he's found a means to express himself in a way that only performing can. He feels at ease here, supported.

"When I play, I don't have any stage fright whatsoever," he says candidly. "Love is my inspiration. The good side, the bad side, everything about love."

Woodring wasn't always so open about his passion. Not that long ago, he was involved with a woman for three years. They fell for each other, they made plans to get married. And during their entire relationship, Woodring never played his songs for her. Why? Because he "didn't want a girl to like me just for my music."

Even though that relationship ultimately fizzled out, Woodring's creative fixation did not. He writes music, he sings it, he plays it on the guitar. Rock 'n' roll is his specialty, but he likes anything with a driving rhythm.

Without music, he professed, he probably wouldn't be alive today.

"I saved my life, it took me away from drugs. " he says. "I love entertainment. It's what my life is about. Writing, overall, is the most important thing in the world."

His older brother Keith is his number one fan. Although he sings and plays the guitar himself, the Winston resident will readily confess that he's nowhere near as talented as his sibling.

"This guy is the next big writing talent," the 27-year-old said recently. "His writing is so good, it's far and above anything else. ... I have an ego complex. It pisses me off that he's better than me."

Woodring is planning to move from Green to Hollywood in two months. There, he will finish writing a movie about his life, in addition to penning songs and performing them for live audiences.

Succeeding is important to him, but not as important as his band mates and his family. Through his talent, he hopes he can give his mother the financial stability she deserves.

For now, though, he's satisfied with spending his nights at the Jersey Lilly. It's a place devoid of brawls and fistfights, but packed with jocularity and acceptance. It's where everyone, strangers and couples, can cast their differences aside to appreciate the liquor, the performers and each other.

"You walk on by and not take a second glance," Woodring croons, as he takes the stage for the second time. "This might be my only chance."



* You can reach reporter Erin Snelgrove at 957-4208 or by e-mail at esnelgrove@newsreview.info.