Thursday, around 3 in the afternoon, I got a message from Frank Campagna, for many of us the Voice of Deep Ellum since, well, President Ronald Reagan's first term. "Hey buddy, not sure if you're interested but this is messed up," wrote the artist and gallery owner who these days tends to reach out with sad news or bad news.

Frank had attached a lengthy Facebook post from Amanda Austin, owner of the Dallas Comedy House on Main Street, in which she detailed how the comedy club and improv workshop was getting the boot from her Deep Ellum digs by a carpetbagging landlord — Black Market Investments, out of Lockhart — wanting to sink yet another barbecue joint in the neighborhood. Austin would tell me later that she tried to keep the whole thing a secret, hoping it would be resolved to everyone's benefit, till it became painfully clear her days were numbered.

I'd already seen the post when Frank sent it; so had countless others who shared, liked or commented on Austin's version of events leading to the 9-year-old comedy club's possible ouster come Sunday. She wrote: "I'm a good tenant. I run a good business. Our community is great for the neighborhood. And I will not be bullied."

The outpouring of fury was heartwarming: Deep Ellum — where my great-uncle built a still-standing storefront, where my grandfather opened a business in 1932, where I spent most of my 20s — isn't yet completely lost to the developers planting all of those gaudy, sore-thumb high-rises.

In Deep Ellum, even now, you come for one, you come for all.

"I knew there would be a response," Austin said Friday. "I didn't know it would be like that. I was very taken aback. I was sitting at the picnic table yesterday, crying. Someone asked what was wrong. I said, 'Everybody's just so nice.' It was a little overwhelming."

Austin, who has two years left on her lease, has known for three months that her days on Main could be winding down. In mid-January she discovered her building had been bought by something called Black Market Investments — so named for Terry Black, a Lockhart CPA, and his children Christina, Michael and Mark Black. Michael and Mark also own Terry Black's Barbecue in Austin, so named for their dad after a legal tussle with their uncle Ken left them unable to use the original Black's Barbecue moniker made famous by their grandfather Edgar Clarence Black Jr.

Austin said she reached out to her local landlords at the beginning of the year about approving a permit for the Dallas Comedy House's ninth annual festival, featuring stand-up, sketch and improv. She was told Black Market bought the building — news to her, but not surprising. She told me that in November, they approached her about selling out so they could do barbecue next door to Baker's Ribs and down the street from Pecan Lodge. She passed on the offer.

Austin said that on Jan. 17, she emailed Mark Black to ask who her new contact was and never heard back. Instead, she said, a week later she received a missive from Dallas attorney Raymond Kane that said he repped Black Market Investments and that she was guilty of "numerous defaults" of the lease.

The lengthy letter alleged she was violating the lease by holding shows there. And by hosting classes and workshops. And by serving food and drink. And so on. The new landlords also alleged the building was one giant code violation. Kane's letter said Austin had 10 days to fix everything or else. And so began the back-and-forth between Black Market's attorneys and Austin's lawyers.

On March 2, J. Michael Ellis, who reps Austin, told Kane that Black Market might want to reconsider its attempts to oust Dallas Comedy House for a barbecue restaurant. Ellis wrote that the Lockhartites' "contrived efforts to remove Dallas's largest and longest continually-active comedy theater from its space are unlawful, in violation of the Lease and represent a malicious scheme that will certainly interest the Dallas courts, local publications and the Dallas community."

Two out of three, at least. So far.

Jason Evans, spokesman for Dallas Fire-Rescue, told me Friday that if there were issues, it's all good now. Said Evans via email, the fire department's "most recent inspection showed that all hazards were corrected."

Nevertheless, on Tuesday another Black Market attorney — Boyd Mouse — sent Austin a letter telling her she had defaulted on the lease. The landlord wants Austin out by Monday. And if it isn't a "peaceful and orderly turnover," Mouse wrote, things could get messy.

By which he means: The next stop is the courthouse. Mouse dispatched a statement Friday in which he said Black Market's not going to trade blows with Dallas Comedy House in the media. Instead, he wrote, "Black Market will uphold its responsibilities and pursue its rights in the appropriate legal forum and will address any statements made by Dallas Comedy House regarding this matter in such forum."

That doesn't faze Austin.

"I tried to be as fair as possible," Austin said of her decision to post her cri de cœur to Facebook this week. "It's been real hard to hide this from a community of performers and students and friends. But I needed to let them know, in case it gets uglier — and it may. And on Monday, I may be making another announcement."