<table> </table> Once upon a magical time in a place called River City there was a former roller-skating rink that attracted some of the biggest names in rock &#8217;n&#8217; roll.</p><p>In this intimate house of sound, the fans and the musicians were separated by only a few feet, and the nights always were redolent with the scent of cannabis.</p><p>This legendary KC destination, of course, was the Cowtown Ballroom, which for three years in the early &#8217;70s was where the local counterculture communed with its musical ambassadors.</p><p>The new documentary &#8220;Cowtown Ballroom &#8230; Sweet Jesus&#8221; (opening today at the Tivoli) is a big fat valentine to those days of long hair, bell-bottoms, anti-war protests and consciousness-expanding recreation.</p><p>It&#8217;s funny and affectionate and so well-crafted by writer/director Joe Heyen and editor/cinematographer Anthony Ladesich that it overcomes some considerable drawbacks. Among them: a dearth of film footage shot at Cowtown and a tight budget that limited the music the moviemakers could include.</p><p>For those who missed out on the Cowtown ballroom, the film re-creates those years with amazing fidelity. You might become envious.</p><p>Though moving footage was hard to find, Heyen and Ladesich cannily employ photographs taken by fans. Often their camera will linger over contact sheets with multiple images.</p><p>But the real heart of this piece lies in the many interviews with folks who were there. Among these subjects are numerous musicians who played Cowtown &#8212; members of the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band, Steve Miller, B.B. King, Foghat drummer Roger Earl and local favorites Danny Cox and Brewer &amp; Shipley, whose song &#8220;One Toke Over the Line&#8221; provided the lyrical inspiration for the &#8220;Sweet Jesus&#8221; in the film&#8217;s title.</p><p>The musicians add a bit of glamour, but even more important are the fans and Cowtown employees whose often hilarious recollections make this film a treat.</p><p>Granted, there are only so many ways in which you can state that Cowtown was a very groovy place with a vibe all its own &#8230; and by the time this film ends at 90 minutes we&#8217;ve heard all of them four or five times.</p><p>But Heyen and Ladesich keep things interesting by going off on intriguing tangents &#8212; for example, the history of the building at 31st and Gillham and its notoriety as one of the few integrated dance halls in the &#8217;30s. Did you know the Kansas City Symphony performed at Cowtown (they played &#8212; what else? &#8212; &#8220;Alzo Sprach Zarathustra,&#8221; otherwise known as the opening music of &#8220;2001: A Space Odyssey&#8221;)? Or that Cowtown was the first venue to syndicate broadcasts of its shows for radio stations around the country?</p><p>And the filmmakers are adept at enlivening footage with psychedelic effects and editing together commentary from various personages with humorous results. In one segment several sources talk about a 1970 free concert in Loose Park that kicked off the whole rock music scene here. Ladesich cannily arranges their comments for rising hysteria. One fellow says a couple thousand people showed up; two or three sources later, the attendance has soared to a phenomenal 30,000.</p><p>And be sure to stick around for the closing credits, which features a guest appearance by none other than Lawrence Welk. &#8217;Nuff said.</p><p><hr class="infobox-hr-separator" /> <div class="infobox"> <strong><span class="infobox-head">&#8216;COWTOWN BALLROOM &#8230; SWEET JESUS&#8217; &#9733;&#9733;&#9733; </span></strong><br /> KC director <strong>Joe Heyen</strong> will attend the first week of screenings at the Tivoli, starting today. The run will expand to the Rio May 29. The unrated film has some profanity. Run time: 1:30.</p><p></div>