In November, when Creative Loafing reported that local businessman Jeff Knight closed the deal on Jannus Landing and revealed the changes he planned for Jannus and its surrounding properties, the response from those folks who frequented the venue over the past few decades has ranged from optimistic (“Can’t wait to actually get to pee in a real restroom and see good music at the same time … Jannus Live is gonna rock it!!!”), to doubtful (“Sounds great BUT, what’s it gonna cost us?!”), to downright hostile (“Thanks Jeff Knight. You just scrubbed the last shred of St. Pete history from the block. Fuck you.”). [All photos by Phil Bardi.]

The biggest fear of protesters — above and beyond the potential rise in drink and ticket prices — seemed to be that the downtown St. Pete venue everybody loved so much would lose its charming seediness and sense of history in its transformation to Jannus Live.

For me, a longtime Jannus fan, music lover and St. Petersburg resident who counted herself among the doubters, last Thursday’s grand opening-cum-Honda Grand Prix Rev Up party laid this fear to rest.

We arrived via the new second entrance on First Avenue N., where the Tamiami Bar used to be, and were greeted with the scent of newly-lacquered wood and the sounds of blasting music and intoxicated chatter.

A generally festive atmosphere permeated the made-over courtyard. The healthy crowd of a few thousand people (many Grand Prix revelers who’d come direct from the evening kick-off parade and wore the beads to prove it) were in high spirits (and enjoying $5.50 spirits) as Tom Gribbin and the Saltwater Band performed a set of beach-kissed rock n’ roll.

The stage itself seemed roomier, possibly due to the huge wrought-iron rig that surrounded it, and the removal of the old “circus tent” with its sight-obstructing poles gave the courtyard a more open and airy feel overall. The walls were painted in vibrant hues, the floor had a smoother finish, the slipshod bar along the side of the courtyard was replaced by several mobile drink stations, and a generous wood-framed patio bar had been erected in the back corner. The much-discussed Koi pond was situated where the deck used to be, the Plexiglas-covered platform raised over a glowing pool with koi of varying sizes swimming amidst color-shifting lights, the area more like a Saturday Night Fever dance floor than a pond and prone to slipperiness when wet.

Three luxury suites with refinished wood floors, tasteful furniture, mini-fridges and flat screen TVs were constructed on the second floor of the once-derelict building directly opposite the stage, the rooms sharing a common lounge area, bar and balcony with a spectacular view of the stage.

The bathrooms seemed to be everyone’s favorite improvement, however. The crude Port-O-Johns and dreaded piss trough were traded in for a full suite of men’s and women’s restrooms. I walked into the women’s and found two young ladies gawking with mouths agape at the lines of stalls, the well-lit and air-conditioned space, the bathroom attendant. “I’m not in line, I’m just taking it all in,” one of them told me, and we had a short conversation about how much we appreciated flushing toilets.

Greg Billings Band was performing a lively combination of originals and covers when the rain clouds that threatened all evening began unburdening their load. “You ain’t gonna melt,” Billings exclaimed to the people who retreated for cover, then brought out Traffic founding singer Dave Mason for a rendition of his band’s 1968 hit, “Feelin’ Alright,” with Mason on lead vocals. The liveliness of the performance and song’s sentiment seeming to echo the mood of the crowd.

I left that night feeling pretty good about Jannus, though it remains to be seen whether or not the place will return to its glory as one of the Bay area’s best concert venues. The most important thing is that the inherent Jannus-ness — that magical, laid-back, under-the-sky vibe we all love — hasn’t been lost but enhanced and given a second chance at greatness.

And in the end, it’s really not about the venue at all — it’s about the different walks of people who fill it and the memories we make there and the bands who play it, and the community that surrounds it and supports it. Nostalgia about the old Jannus is okay, but dismissing the new and improved Jannus with no good reason other than nostalgia simply isn’t. Check it out and judge for yourself; you might find yourself pleasantly surprised.

Video of the new venue forthcoming...