"It was just kind of surreal," he said. "There was somebody that was taking the money that said, 'There's nobody here. It isn't even worth paying. Just go right in and enjoy yourself.'"

So he did.

Juneau's concert history is filled with bizarre, random and memorable shows like King's.

The town's isolation, its population and the inconsistency of air travel makes booking a risky proposition. We see up-and-coming groups (Hot Club of Cowtown, The Wilders, Ruby Dee and the Snakehandlers) and a lot of nostalgic acts (The Misfits, Nanci Griffith, The Violent Femmes). But what about the bigger bands?

"Promoting music in Juneau is a gamble," said longtime Juneau promoter Peter Metcalfe. "There's too much risk and not enough return. That's one of the reasons why we don't see bigger bands here."

"Our clubs are too small, and the big houses are too big," said longtime musician Bob Banghart. "We need something in the middle. These days promoting should be easier with the Internet, but it is probably harder to sell the lure of Alaska. We also don't have the populations of Fairbanks or Anchorage. We are often a stop-off venue."

The King concert was certainly a risk. But the promoter, who had talked King into stopping here between Anchorage and Seattle, made it hard on himself. There was little publicity outside of a short spot on KINY.

The night of the show, Cavanaugh, Steve Nelson and less than 15 others spread to all corners of the empty theater. The curtains parted and King's band played instrumentals for roughly 30 minutes, waiting for more people to show.

Finally, the master emerged in mint-green suit with his custom guitar, Lucille.

By all accounts, the hour-long show ruled. And afterwards, the band forced the failed promoter to cough up the full guarantee.

"I couldn't believe I was sitting in a room basically with just him and the band," Nelson said. "It was like being in somebody's living room."

The botched King concert may be one of the most infamously organized shows in Juneau history, but 1975 also brought one of the biggest rock coups the town has ever seen.

That May, the mixed-blood Native American band Redbone played the Juneau-Douglas High School Auditorium less than a year after "Come And Get Your Love" had gone platinum.

It was a world-class rock show, and a unifying event for the largely Native crowd

"They weren't the Rolling Stones, but it was a novel thing for such a small town," said Harry Tullis, who was a 12-year-old seventh-grader when he saw the show. "Back then, we never got any big names. Like now, we don't unless it's a band that was big 15, 20 years ago."

Redbone's post-show was just as memorable. The band picked up a gaggle of local girls, retreated to its bus and was called out by a jealous posse of would-be suitors.

Danny Moloshok / The Associated Press   Other performers like Queen Ida, band poster shown above, have had better luck but bringing big names to town has always been a problem.

"They certainly hit Juneau on their way to Anchorage," Cavanaugh said. "That doesn't happen too often. When bands are washed up, they come to Juneau. Another five to 10 years, we should get Bob Dylan."

Juneau has seen more than just faded stars. Mike's Place brought jitterbug acts to town back in the 1930s. The Baranof Hotel booked a variety of combos for its Bubble Room in the 1940s, 1950s and 1960s.

The Juneau-Douglas Concert Association used the 20th Century as a venue in the 1940s, 1950s and 1960s and arranged shows through the "Alaska Music Trail." A network of bookers in Anchorage, Fairbanks, Juneau would arrange mini-tours throughout the state.

The group once brought legendary Mexican trumpet player Rafael Mendez, who was backed by high school band musicians. Operatic mezzo soprano Marilyn Horne and superstar pianist Van Cliburn also stopped in town.

By the time of the first Alaska Folk Festival in 1975, more young, like-minded people had congregated in Juneau, and there was a surge of interest in bringing out-of-state bands to town.

The Crystal Saloon, at the end of the South Franklin near the present-day Mount Roberts Tram, opened in Oct. 1976 and rose to the top of the scene.

"What I heard about B.B. King was inspiration for me to do something, because that show was done so badly," said Peter Metcalfe, who booked shows with John Ingalls. They ran the place with two Seattle partners.

During its heyday (1977-1978), the Crystal spent about $50,000 a year on entertainment. The town was flooded with 20-somethings with good jobs and no place to stay. Capital-move talk was heating up and pipeline dollars were pouring in to state government. The downtown scene was rife with casual drug use and casual sex.

The Crystal's first show - Jim Pepper and the San Francisco All-Stars - helped the bar establish its street creds.

Country legend Merle Travis came for a set at 11 p.m. one night after performing as the Alaska Folk Festival's first guest artist (in the event's third year). He jumped onstage with a local backup band, asked for "something in 4/4" and tore the house down.

Blues artist Taj Mahal was the Crystal's first major act, in April 1977. Metcalfe and Ingalls were able to pay him a $2,000 guarantee by scheduling two concerts on a weeknight and selling out the 150-person venue for both at $10 a ticket.

The success of the Taj Mahal show helped Metcalfe and Ingalls attract Sonny Terry and Brownie McGhee, a huge folk-blues act. Boys of the Lough. one of the premiere Scottish groups of the time, was another big show.

By 1978, the Crystal's success had led to quibbling among its partners, Mose Allison was the last major act to play.

Ingalls, Metcalfe and Kate Tesar continued booking shows - including three memorable performances by zydeco star Queen Ida. They brought The Persuasions to the Armory in 1982 for an anti-capital move fundraiser for the Alaska Committee. Mayor Fran Ulmer emceed, and the local opening act, The Surftones, drove out in a convertible.

Photo by Skip Grey, courtesy of Peter Metcalfe   Old school: Taj Mahal plays a sold-out show in April 1977 at the Crystal Ballroom. Mahal played two shows that night, both of which packed the 150-capacity bar.

DB Sound organized a show a month for a year in 1982 and 1983, including many of the first concerts at Centennial Hall. The group brought Ricky Nelson, Nicolette Larson, Greg Allman, Elvin Bishop, Jesse Coulter and Leo Kottke, Nazareth, Russell Smith and the Amazing Rhythm Aces, Jack Miller and the Reggae All-Stars, and others.

Former Juneau resident Stella Taug had teamed up with Donnie and Ron Brown to build a sound and light company in Capistrano Beach, Calif. They set up shop in Juneau and had enough professional gear to satisfy the contractual demands of larger acts.

Many of those name bands were past their prime. One in particular, Canned Heat, showed up about 12 years after lead singer Alan "Blind Owl" Wilson died of an overdose. The drummer had gone to court to retain the name.

A disappointing crowd showed for Russell Smith and the Amazing Rhythm Aces, but DB still handed over the $3,500 guarantee. Smith and his band knew the door hadn't made that much, and handed the money back.

When Allman visited, he decided to buy an antique gun at an old shop downtown. He later ate at the Thane Ore House, and with his long, scraggly hair hanging out of a floppy baseball cap, he pulled the gun out of his shirt in the middle of the restaurant and proclaimed, "Lookie what I bought me!"

All the tourists in the place dove to the floor.

While Larson played two shows for the official grand opening of Centennial Hall, Nelson had been invited for a the hall's first actual performance a few months earlier.

Nelson, battling drug abuse at the time, was an hour late to take the stage. He and his band had been locked away in their room across the street at the old Westmark Hotel.

The Juneau Arts and Humanities Council was created in 1973. The nonprofit later set up its "Juneau Concerts" series and helped bring Dave Brubeck and Dizzy Gillespie, among others, in those early years.

The Alaska Peace Officers Association set up its first show in 1979 and brought country star Merle Haggard. Over the years, they've booked Ricky Skaggs, Three Dog Night, Juice Newton, Paul Revere and the Raiders and other acts.

Comedian Marty Allen opened for R&B singer Dionne Warwick in a 1980 gala in the high school gymnasium to celebrate Juneau's centennial.

Bonnie Raitt came to town in 1984. She and her crew stayed for four days, and one night, Raitt backed up Juneau musician Teri Tibbett at the Red Dog Saloon. Tibbett sang lead on the Raitt hit, "Angel From Montgomery," while Raitt sang harmony.

In the mid-1980s, Dolly Parton played at the high school auditorium.

"Everybody was talking and hadn't seen each other for a long time, and she walked out and everybody shut up," Juneau resident Nancy Spears said. "She was amazing looking, and everyone's jaws were dropping in the ground."

Anchorage-based Al Barre organized a series of shows from 1990-1995 through Northstar Productions. The Smothers Brothers, REO Speedwagon, Little River Band, Quiet Riot, Don McLean, Kingfish and Kansas were among the acts that made the circuit through Anchorage, Fairbanks and Centennial Hall.

"Most of the shows were in Anchorage and Fairbanks because that market size was a lot larger," Barre said. "It was hard to get major acts to come to Juneau and pay them what they were used to getting paid."

Juneau musician and occasional promoter Buddy Tabor recalls other memorable acts over the years: Ricky Skaggs, Elisabeth Cotton, Ramblin' Jack Elliott, Bobby Bare and the Desert Rose Band, to name a few.

Beyond the challenges of hosting performers and their peccadilloes, money and weather are always obstacles to bringing acts to town, he said

"Things were easier back in the day, cheaper," Tabor said. "Now outfits hire managers and they've become too expensive."

In 1995, Tabor brought in Townes Van Zandt for a Glory Hole fundraiser. Van Zandt's booking agency told Tabor that the musician was off the bottle, and Tabor charged everything on his credit card.

Tabor checked on Van Zandt minutes before the show at Northern Light United Church. The singer claimed he couldn't play.

In reality, Van Zandt was drinking heavily and was prone to delirium tremens without booze during a performance. Van Zandt's manger reassured Tabor, "this happened before every gig."

The show went on. Van Zandt played to an audience of almost 500.