In the late 1960s, Kathy Garness stumbled upon a coffeehouse at the corner of Lunt and Glenwood avenues in Rogers Park that would profoundly shape her life.
“I remember seeing this kind of cavernous place there. It was all dark, but there was music coming from it,” Garness recalled of her first encounter with No Exit coffeehouse. “I could smell teas and the coffee … a whole ambiance that wafted out the door.”
Garness was among countless youth in their teens and twenties who found a second home in coffeehouses like No Exit across Chicago. She attributes her work as a botanical artist and natural lands steward for the Northern Illinois region to the political and environmental values she absorbed in such spaces.
No Exit, along with other notable cafés such as It’s Here, the Amazingrace, the Why?, Medici on 57th, and Ali’s on 63rd, played a pivotal role in the folk revival movement. This movement, spanning the late 1950s to early 1970s, saw acoustic music and rural songs gain popularity, particularly among young Americans.
These coffeehouses were instrumental in fostering this cultural surge, providing younger audiences and musicians with safe, alcohol-free gathering spots.
“You had a whole audience of younger people who had never heard this music before, and it sounded much more raw and real than what was happening on the radio,” said Mark Guarino, author of Country and Midwestern: Chicago and the History of Country Music and the Folk Revival. “It really was kind of an underground subculture.”
Many folk musicians who later became famous—such as Steve Goodman, Michael Smith, and Fred Holstein—started their careers performing at these coffeehouses. They transitioned from fans of the genre to being part of this burgeoning Chicago folk community.
Art Thieme was one such performer, regularly gracing the stage at No Exit for over three decades. Joe Moore, the owner at the time, gave Thieme his first opportunity in 1959.
“They had a $1 cover, and he made one-quarter [of whatever money came in],” said Thieme’s son, C.T. Thieme. “It cost him more to get back home than he made that night.”
Moore credits Dodie Kallick, another local musician, as the originator of folk music at No Exit. Once Kallick became a regular act, more musicians and fans followed suit. “[It’s] how the coffee shop worked — things grew in it,” Moore said in a 1977 interview. “[A] chess tournament grew in it, the folk singing grew in it.”
Without the coffeehouses, young people would have found themselves excluded from the live music scene. Some community organizations, such as the YMCA, even established coffeehouses to provide social spaces for young people, free from alcohol-driven environments.
Other cafés were designed specifically as performance venues—like It’s Here in Rogers Park, which could accommodate several hundred patrons. It was affectionately nicknamed “Kiddie Big Time,” as local young folk musicians could perform when big stars like John Denver and Joni Mitchell weren’t in town.
Reflecting on the experience, many regulars from the ’60s and ’70s believe these spaces significantly shaped their identities and helped them discover community. This influence continues today: Lesley Kozin, whose parents owned No Exit after Moore, mentioned that she still instinctively glances toward the entrance at her favorite neighborhood bar to see if she recognizes anyone, reminiscent of her time at No Exit.
Kozin described the community’s magnetic draw: “If it was a place that called to you, you may never leave.”
However, by the late 1970s, the peak of the folk revival was waning, and coffeehouses had to adapt or face closure. Leslie’s parents, who were regulars and employees, purchased No Exit in 1977.
To ensure the coffeehouse’s survival, Brian and Sue Kozin diversified its offerings beyond just folk music. During the ’80s and ’90s, No Exit became a venue for poetry readings and comedy nights, where comedian Michael Shannon was a frequent performer before landing his own sketch on Saturday Night Live.
Despite these changes, the unique community atmosphere remained intact. Over the 22 years they ran No Exit, the Kozins spent nearly as much time engaging with their friends at the regulars’ table as they did serving coffee or answering phones.
They even hosted memorable holiday gatherings. “The No Exit Thanksgivings were epic,” Lesley recalled. “It was just a bunch of us—we call ourselves hippie cousins.”
In 2000, No Exit became one of the last of its kind to close its doors in Chicago, largely due to the Kozins’ unyielding passion for the café. “We just never made any money off the damn place… We barely made a living,” Brian Kozin said candidly. “You know, it’s about the music. It’s not about the money. If it were about the money, we wouldn’t have been there.”
However, the closure of these coffeehouses deprived young Chicagoans of an essential “third space”—a venue where they could gather, engage in lengthy discussions, and witness local musicians unveil new songs. “I would love to see something like that return again,” C.T. Thieme expressed thoughtfully.
Celebrating the enduring legacy of folk music and culture, the Evanston Folk Festival continues to flourish. WBEZ readers can access a blind pre-sale for this year’s festival, taking place from September 6-7, using the code EFFWBEZ.
image source from：https://www.wbez.org/curious-city/2025/04/16/an-underground-subculture-how-chicago-coffeehouses-shaped-the-folk-revival-movement
