I came across...

[chewy-chew-chew-bean-benitez]

THATS the village gate??!?

[Christiern]

Yes, and here's a slightly better look...

[Christiern]

Apropos Greenwich Village clubs, here's a letter I received from Lorraine Gordon (Vanguard) when she was looking out for Jabbo Smith...

[Christiern]

...and one from my old friend, David, who always so kindly exaggerated my place in the scheme of things...

...and a card from Down Beat, a publication that never exaggerated its fees

[Christiern]

At a time of pending loo fees and a "maybe, if you're lucky" on that tiny bag of peanuts, this menu looks like somebody's fantasy...

[Christiern]

Here's a card from Elmer Snowden, who by this time had—more or less— moved to San Francisco.

[Christiern]

I came across a few more things, ranging in interest from zero to mild, but—who knows?

I don't suppose Orde Coombs' name means much to anyone here, but he was someone I knew back when. In our life, we cross paths with many people. Some leave our memory bank soon, some linger, others find a permanent spot. Orde belonged in the last category. H was a brilliant man who accomplished much in the few years allotted him. We had many meetings over a drink or two, and many stimulating conversations. Orde was determined to make a name for himself, which he did, although not as big as he had planned. That obsession was, as I saw it, his only fault. Orde was an excellent writer with much to say, but he knew that people would discover him sooner if his writing stirred up controversy. That sometimes led him to dilute his work with opinions that flew in the face of objectivity.

I remember a party we attended at the loft of a mutual friend. It was in the Seventies, when afros and dashikis often were political statements. There were a number of afro-ed, light complected black people at this gathering and—typically—they seemed to be more militant than their darker brothers and sister. They were trying to prove their blackness, and Orde found that fascinating, so when he overheard someone saying, "They're taking over," he decided to make it the subject of an article for New York magazine. As I recall, it became the cover story, and it was a warning against rising "Mulatto Power." Orde knew that he was making much of little, but it brought him the attention he craved. So did NY Times article in which he suggested that blacks committed the majority of street crimes and should, therefore, be sent to detention camps. Well, you can imagine...

Orde looked frail shortly after returning from Africa, where he had been on assignment for Esquire magazine. We did not know about AIDS back then, but that's what it turned out to be and, in 1984, it robbed me of a truly memorable friend and colleague.

Here's more on Orde, if you are interested. And here is a letter I came across yesterday, the spark for this post:

[Christiern]

Here's the staff of a restaurant I visited on a 1986 visit to Sweden. The food was as glorious as the setting...

... and they even sent me a greeting after I got back to New York.

[Christiern]

I also came across this note from Martin Williams, but I can't recall what he was working on, why I somehow was involved, or what year this was ...

Does this ring a bell with anyone?

[Christiern]

In September of 1961, I did several Riverside sessions in Chicago. This is one of them...

...and here's a letter that Little Brother Montgomery wrote me after I sent him a copy...

[Chuck Nessa]

Back in the mid '60s used to go hear Little Brother sing and play piano in a neighborhood Irish bar. Local patrons had no idea of his history - he was just the weekend entertainment for years. He sang an occasional "Irish" song. Those were the days, 50 cent beers and whatever. He always dressed in a jacket, white shirt (often with ruffles) and tie. Nice man.

[Christiern]

Yes indeed, Chuck, Little Brother was a gentle soul.

Anyone here remember Record Research? It was Len Kunstadt's continuation of the auctions one used to find in Bill Grauer's Record Changer, and it was better known for the information it contained than it was for its prose.

Here's what it looked like.

...but the auction pages were not good for the eyes!

Lenny Kunstadt later married Victoria Spivey in England, to justify booking a single room at a hotel!

[Chuck Nessa]

Back in the day (when I was working at distributing records) I used to deal with Lenny to buy Spivey records. Long ways away from downloads.

[marcello]

Here's another series of Facebook photos, this time put up by Lee Mergner of Jazz Times:

These are from the jazz at the White House party given by Carter.

From the photo files of JazzTimes. These photos were taken by Karl Esch, who was hired by Ira Sabin, the founder of JazzTimes.

He has labeled this one Ralph Gleason, but it can't be since he died in 1975.

Any guesses:

Roy Eldridge, Doc Cheatham and Zoot Sims

Jimmy Carter and Cecil Taylor

Edited March 8, 2009 by marcello

[Christiern]

Back in the mid '60s used to go hear Little Brother sing and play piano in a neighborhood Irish bar. Local patrons had no idea of his history - he was just the weekend entertainment for years. He sang an occasional "Irish" song. Those were the days, 50 cent beers and whatever. He always dressed in a jacket, white shirt (often with ruffles) and tie. Nice man.

Was the bar on the left as one walked in, and di one have to go up a few steps to get to where Little Brother performed?

[ValerieB]

my father was at that White House event and i remember being very jealous that i wasn't able to go! afterwards, everyone was talking about how cute it was that Dizzy played "Salt Peanuts" for President Carter!

[marcello]

my father was at that White House event and i remember being very jealous that i wasn't able to go! afterwards, everyone was talking about how cute it was that Dizzy played "Salt Peanuts" for President Carter!

This is from the same collection, Valerie:

I taped the whole thing as the day went on (over the radio), now there are bit torrents of the music around.

[chewy-chew-chew-bean-benitez]

Jimmy Carter & Cecil Taylor: Two Peas In A Pod!

[ValerieB]

my father was at that White House event and i remember being very jealous that i wasn't able to go! afterwards, everyone was talking about how cute it was that Dizzy played "Salt Peanuts" for President Carter!

This is from the same collection, Valerie:

I taped the whole thing as the day went on (over the radio), now there are bit torrents of the music around.

you certainly hold a lot of jazz history in your hands, as does Chris. thanks to both of you for sharing with all of us. priceless!

[Christiern]

Another record project that never materialized was a Jimmy Rushing album. Here the funds never caught up with the determination, sad to say. Anyway, I came across a couple of letter from Jimmy Rushing, written when he was in Las Vegas. One thing these letters bring to mind is the loss we have suffered since e-mail became the standard. Old e-mail can be interesting, but it is water sans flavoring.

[Stereojack]

He has labeled this one Ralph Gleason, but it can't be since he died in 1975.

Any guesses:

Leonard Feather, possibly?

[Chuck Nessa]

Not Feather. I know that face, just can't place it.

[Christiern]

Slightly Feather-like, however.

Apropos jokes, at WBAI, I wrote an ongoing radio serial in which I played the title role, Gamma Globulin. Gamma was an old fool who fancied himself to be a detective, of sorts, and had his very own PR man, Fred Nurdley (played by Robert Potts). The series was fully sponsored by make-believe advertisers and sometimes—to our delight—listeners played the game with us.

One commercial brought in this response from a Mr. Svedosh of the Bronx:

As always, our customer support dept. responded...

As I recall, Mr. Svedosh changed his mind and didn't purchase our product, but he accepted an offer for a free rum-stained Che beret.

[Christiern]

Getting back to music, one of the nicest people I recorded in New Orleans during my 1961 sessions there, was Louis Cottrell, whom I have mentioned and posted photos of earlier in this thread. As a result, I heard from his son, who also is a musician. Now I have just come across this letter. The Dave Mr. Cottrell refers to is my engineer, David Johnson, the Herb is Herb Friedwald (Will's father) who, sadly, left me only with unpleasant memories.

[marcello]

He has labeled this one Ralph Gleason, but it can't be since he died in 1975.

Any guesses:

Leonard Feather, possibly?

Here's another of the Mystery Man with Ron Carter: