Pink House. 130 North Street. Back In The Day.
Fellow residents from the 1991-94 years were Clint Curtis, Shyam Patel, Raj Krishnasami, Lydia Craft, Jess Deltac, Kyle York Spencer, Caroline Rivers Hall, Mel Lanham, Michelle Sinnott, Jay Murray, N'Gai Wright, Scott Bullock (who crashed on the couch for a year before finally moving in), Bryan Ellerson, Karen Hurka, Sally Stryker, Ryan Mathias, Charlie Speight, Chris Palmatier, Trent McDevitt, and Steve William.
Besides holdovers and returnees Jay, Scott, Mel (& Laverne!), Chris, and N'Gai, residents during 1995-97 included Ian Williams, Greg Humphreys, Allen Sellars (who, like Jay, lived at both the Pink House and 401 Pritchard), Zak Bisacky, James Dasher, Linden Elstran, Jiffer Bourguignon, Grant Tennille (who first made the scene as a fixture in N'Gai's room circa summer '93), Zia Zareem, Ben Folds, Tom Holden, and Chris "Chip" Chapman.
- Erik Ose
Featured Post
Remembering the Pink House, 15 Years Later
2009 marks fifteen years since I graduated from Carolina and moved out of the Pink House, the legendary off-campus crash pad located at 130 ...
Monday, February 28, 1994
Saturday, February 19, 1994
Friday, February 18, 1994
Saturday, February 12, 1994
HeartBeat at the Depot - a Unity Event
We closed this rave down, dancing 'til five o’clock in the morning. It was a packed event, held at the historic former train depot in downtown Greensboro. 14 years later, Barack Obama and Joe Biden would appear at this same spot, speaking on its front steps in the closing weeks of the '08 elections to a crowd estimated at 25,000. But on this cold night in the winter of '94, underground rave culture in North Carolina was in full bloom.
Were there a thousand kids at this party? Whatever capacity the fire marshals would allow, that's how many bodies were packed into the Depot. We met kids there from as far away as Nashville and Birmingham, AL who had come to Feel the HeartBeat.
The night was put on by Ed LeBrun, the owner of Spins record store in Greensboro. In June he would begin promoting the legendary First Friday monthly parties at Babylon, a newly opened dance club on Elm Street. Until his tragic murder in August, 1999, Ed was one of the driving forces behind the rave scene in the Carolinas.
Ed LeBrun outside Spins, mid-90s
The dancefloor space was small, and the amount of lighting and effects that Ed packed in there was truly breathtaking. I remember amazing video and computerized projections washing over the crowd, and constantly flickering on the walls.
The night's theme was love, and the house music and visuals were in perfect harmony. Even the floor lit up!
I remember thinking that the spot where our group of Pink House ravers were grooving was a dancefloor heaven, the perfect place to be at that moment in time. It certainly seemed that way. I was surrounded by the love of my friends, the energy of the night, and the smiling crowd. Everyone was beautiful, and happiness was in the air. Then, at five o'clock on the dot, the lights came up. I looked around, and saw that our mystical rave paradise was actually a shabby little room in the back of the Depot that resembled a broken-down high school cafeteria. It was a bit of a come down. But I was still smiling, all the way home to Chapel Hill.
Were there a thousand kids at this party? Whatever capacity the fire marshals would allow, that's how many bodies were packed into the Depot. We met kids there from as far away as Nashville and Birmingham, AL who had come to Feel the HeartBeat.
The night was put on by Ed LeBrun, the owner of Spins record store in Greensboro. In June he would begin promoting the legendary First Friday monthly parties at Babylon, a newly opened dance club on Elm Street. Until his tragic murder in August, 1999, Ed was one of the driving forces behind the rave scene in the Carolinas.
Ed LeBrun outside Spins, mid-90s
The dancefloor space was small, and the amount of lighting and effects that Ed packed in there was truly breathtaking. I remember amazing video and computerized projections washing over the crowd, and constantly flickering on the walls.
The night's theme was love, and the house music and visuals were in perfect harmony. Even the floor lit up!
I remember thinking that the spot where our group of Pink House ravers were grooving was a dancefloor heaven, the perfect place to be at that moment in time. It certainly seemed that way. I was surrounded by the love of my friends, the energy of the night, and the smiling crowd. Everyone was beautiful, and happiness was in the air. Then, at five o'clock on the dot, the lights came up. I looked around, and saw that our mystical rave paradise was actually a shabby little room in the back of the Depot that resembled a broken-down high school cafeteria. It was a bit of a come down. But I was still smiling, all the way home to Chapel Hill.
Friday, February 11, 1994
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