Ark marks 50 years of folk staying power in Ann Arbor

There were moments when Dave Siglin wasn't sure the Ark would last for another 50 days.

Now the fabled venue is set to celebrate an uncommon music-venue triumph, marking 50 years as an Ann Arbor institution and nationally revered home to folk and roots music. The yearlong anniversary campaign — dubbed "50 Folkin' Years" — will kick off at next weekend's Ann Arbor Folk Festival, an annual fund-raiser for the nonprofit organization.

Half a century is an especially long time in the ever-morphing music world, but the Ark has managed to sustain its early intimate, grassroots spirit. It's an endurance story driven by stalwarts like longtime manager Siglin and his wife, Linda, who shepherded the Ark through four decades and three sites, from its homey coffeehouse beginnings to its current 425-capacity room on Main Street.

They did it with help through the years from thousands of volunteers, loyal patrons, donors and a conception of folk music — broadly defined — as the glue that can bond a community.

"The Ark had its own niche," says Siglin. "That's why we survived."

With 300-plus shows a year, the Ark is one of southeast Michigan's busiest venues, and the roll call of past performers could fill a book. Arlo Guthrie, Patty Griffin, Richard Thompson, the Avett Brothers and Bela Fleck are among those who have been Ark loyalists through their careers, and this week's festival headliners — Brandi Carlisle, Amos Lee, Jason Isbell, Ani DiFranco — all have ties to the venue.

Siglin is brimming with stories, and the names roll off his lips. Late comedian Gilda Radner played the Ark with a student group. Tom Waits was a live-in guest. Actress Christine Lahti performed with a mime troupe. Siglin can tell you about the time a little-known Leon Redbone stayed at the house for three months, talking aloud only to complain about smoking and to argue about whether fleas had wings, before one day tipping his hat and taking off. The two became best friends.

The venue's definition of "folk" has become versatile, branching into rock-oriented singer-songwriters and others who may not fit the genre's traditional definition.

"Internally, we talk about 'Ark music,' " says executive director Marianne James. "We can't define it, but we know it when we see it."

The venue nurtures young careers — often at a box-office loss — and those artists often stay bonded with the Ark. California-bred pianist Vienna Teng, a singer-songwriter and recent Detroit transplant, was booked at the Ark in 2003 — her first of more than 10 shows there.

"It was one of the first venues I got to play that had that listening-room vibe to it," says Teng. "There are definitely places where that can become kind of church-y, where people are almost too reverent. The Ark has struck that very lovely balance where music is the focus, with no other distractions, but with an earthy, homegrown vibe, where everybody is there to connect as human beings. I found that really special."

A swirl of activity

Conceived and underwritten by four local churches in 1965 at the height of the college coffeehouse trend, the Ark was formed as a student gathering place in a handsome Hill Street house. The name was a nod to the biblical Noah: They'd be coming two-by-two, was the hope, seeking shelter from the storm.

The cozy Ark became a swirl of activity: poetry readings, artist workshops, open-mic nights, bull sessions, potluck suppers, mime classes. Concerts took place in front of the living room fireplace for audiences of a few dozen seated on the carpeted floor. The aura was casual and open-minded.

"The most important thing is the audience," Ark regular Michael Cooney wrote in the early 1970s. "They are part of the place, rather than paying customers who come to watch a show and leave. ... The atmosphere is such that instead of coming in with a 'Here we are, entertain us' attitude, the feeling generated is: 'We have come to listen to whatever you do.' "

Siglin was a recent University of Michigan grad and aspiring folk singer when he took on the manager role in 1968, moving into the Ark house with his wife and young daughter.

"Up to that point, the direction was hiring any musician who was halfway decent. My first criteria was that they had to be as good as me," Siglin recalls. "That lasted three weeks — my wife said they had to be better than me. Then the criteria became that you had to be able to learn something from them."

Under Siglin, the Ark began emphasizing roots-minded acts — young and old musicians who were plumbing the nooks and crannies of folk, blues, Appalachian music and other traditional forms. Touring artists often stayed upstairs with the Siglins, part of the Ark extended family, where impromptu performances would run through sunrise and fresh coffee and popcorn were always in the kitchen.

Many remained faithful to the Ark as their careers blossomed, and by the '70s, the venue's reputation made it a go-to spot even for artists such as John Prine and David Bromberg, whose drawing power well exceeded the Ark's capacity of about 150. The trend continued through the decades, with artists like George Winston, Wynton Marsalis and Jeff Daniels — honorary chair for the 50th-anniversary campaign — making a point to play the intimate venue.

Still, the Ark often skirted the edge of financial disaster, with frequent "Save the Ark" donor campaigns and injections of support from the founding churches keeping it afloat. In 1977, the Ark was formally incorporated into a nonprofit group, and Siglin struck upon a fund-raising idea: an annual music fest.

The inaugural Ann Arbor Folk Festival at the Power Center generated a crucial $8,000, but it also established another important lifeline for the venue: Since the fest's debut, most performers have been booked with the condition they return for a spring Ark gig. The symbiotic system exposes audiences to new musicians who in turn become Ark regulars.

"It's such a smart and long-view way of thinking to develop artists and the music scene," said Teng, who played the festival in 2005.

The Ark took its next big step in 1984, moving to a 300-capacity space on Main Street and obtaining a club liquor license that allowed members to purchase drinks. Twelve years later, the venue transferred to its current site on South Main.

While the Ark remained faithful to traditional music, Siglin had to remain nimble amid shifting trends and demographics.

"After about 10 years, I noticed that the audience was getting one year older every year," Siglin says. "So we started making a conscious effort to book stuff to appeal to younger audiences. I always kept that in mind. Every once in a while there was a push to go younger."

It's partly what drove Siglin to retire in 2008. More and more, he felt out of touch with the hundreds of demo tapes he combed through each year hunting for new Ark acts. Booking duties were turned over to his daughter, Anya Siglin, who had grown up doing her homework with sounds from the Ark's performance room drifting upstairs.

A permanent home

Students still make up part of the Ark audience, but the venue these days casts a wider net, enjoying annual attendance of about 50,000, about a quarter of that from metro Detroit.

The organization has been streamlined and professionalized, and in 2012 — after decades as a renter — the Ark finally had a permanent home after purchasing its Main Street space. Executive director James is overseeing a $2.5-million capital campaign to fund renovations and pay off the mortgage; about $1.1 million has been raised through private gifts, and the public donor campaign will kick off at this week's festival.

The finances have long since steadied, with the organization's annual $1 million-plus budget funded by the folk fest, club memberships, donations and show revenue, including more than a dozen concerts annually presented at bigger area theaters. Other nonprofit venues around the country have taken cues from the Ark's success.

"The Ark has been an inspiration for a lot of those places," says Jim Fleming, an Ann Arbor booking agent who oversees a roster of prominent roots artists and singer-songwriters. "As the organization evolved, they did a brilliant job of setting up the volunteer system, administration and a really strong board, and it's become one of the strongest nonprofits in the country."

James says this year's anniversary campaign is about looking back — and moving forward.

"We knew we were going to be celebrating 50 years," she said. "But we also have to make sure we have 50 more, and turn this organization over to a new generation of stewards."

Contact Brian McCollum: 313-223-4450 or bmccollum@freepress.com.

Ann Arbor Folk Festival

For 38 years, the Ann Arbor Folk Festival has been crucial to the Ark's funding, and now supports about 10% of the venue's annual budget.

This year's fest takes place Friday and Saturday at Hill Auditorium, 825 N. University Ave., Ann Arbor. More info: 734-761-1818. Music starts at 6:30 each night. Tickets are $37-$500.

Friday lineup: Brandi Carlile, Jason Isbell, Yonder Mountain String Band, Baskery, Bahamas, Mandolin Orange, Billy Strings and Don Julin, Steve Poltz (emcee)

Saturday lineup: Amos Lee, Ani Difranco, Buffy Sainte-Marie, Holly Williams, the Dustbowl Revival, Noah Gundersen, Laith Al-Saadi, Cheryl Wheeler (emcee)