Jazz musicians' wit and humor. Examples?

[The Magnificent Goldberg]

MG

[Larry Kart]

Pardon the vulgarity and sexism of this anecdote, but it was an eye-opener when I was present to hear it at about age 13. My folks, my sister and I were staying at a hotel in Michigan City, Ind., in the summer of 1955, or maybe '56 -- a law fraternity convention -- and the trombone and tenor sax combo that played in the ballroom during and after dinner clearly to my somewhat novice ears consisted of talented young jazz musicians. I introduced myself during a break, they were friendly (I remember one of them saying to another, "Hey, this kid digs Art Pepper!"), and said that I should come down to the unoccupied basement bar area about 11 p.m.; they were going to have jam session there. Excited at the prospect, I tiptoed out of my room at the right time and went downstairs. In fact, no music was being played; I'm pretty sure that the first step in what they had in mind was to get high (probably pot, not hard drugs), and once they were high (before I arrived, or maybe I didn't know enough yet to know), no one was inclined to play, either that or maybe a key member of the band didn't show. In any case, most of the guys are sitting in a booth talking, while I'm sitting by myself in the booth behind them. The pianist, I think it was (a crew-cut guy who looked like one of the Hi-Los -- was it Clark Burroughs?), is going on about the band's relationship with the female members of the hotel staff; apparently the combo had been in residence for most of the summer, and these were (or thought they were) slick, hip Chicago-area guys who had a leg up, so to speak, on bedding whomever they wanted. (I should add that the best player in the band was its Richie Kamuca-influenced tenorman, Keith something-or-other, who was not present at the moment -- perhaps they were waiting for him.) So the crewcut pianist is recounting to his boothmates a conversation he'd recently had with one of his female hotel-staff conquests: "So I said to her, 'Hey, baby, can I put my tongue in your tunnel?'" This is followed by some indication of her assent, after which he continues his side of the remembered dialogue: "Only thing is, tonight I'm using Keith's tongue."

Again, it's hard for me to recall how clearly I understood exactly what all this meant (13-year-olds in 1955 probably led more sheltered lives ), but I think I did fairly suddenly understand just about all of it, and this was a shock -- not only in terms of described but obviously real human behavior but also, especially, in terms of the actual words this guy used. For one thing, while I could imagine what he described happening, I couldn't begin to imagine how someone could actually say those two sentences to a woman, given that both sentences, but especially the second, amounted to an implicitly humiliating (although not without wit in its brutal compactness) assault on her dignity -- as though stripping her of that was a key part of the act. Romance, wooing -- that I could understand and envision. But this was a kind of sadism, no? Again, I was shocked. Further, what this bit of dialogue, and the pianist's decision to tell this tale to his little audience, says about all the various human relationships involved still remains kind of strange and complicated to me.

[BillF]

Pardon the vulgarity and sexism of this anecdote, but it was an eye-opener when I was present to hear it at about age 13. My folks, my sister and I were staying at a hotel in Michigan City, Ind., in the summer of 1955, or maybe '56 -- a law fraternity convention -- and the trombone and tenor sax combo that played in the ballroom during and after dinner clearly to my somewhat novice ears consisted of talented young jazz musicians. I introduced myself during a break, they were friendly (I remember one of them saying to another, "Hey, this kid digs Art Pepper!"), and said that I should come down to the unoccupied basement bar area about 11 p.m.; they were going to have jam session there. Excited at the prospect, I tiptoed out of my room at the right time and went downstairs. In fact, no music was being played; I'm pretty sure that the first step in what they had in mind was to get high (probably pot, not hard drugs), and once they were high (before I arrived, or maybe I didn't know enough yet to know), no one was inclined to play, either that or maybe a key member of the band didn't show. In any case, most of the guys are sitting in a booth talking, while I'm sitting by myself in the booth behind them. The pianist, I think it was (a crew-cut guy who looked like one of the Hi-Los -- was it Clark Burroughs?), is going on about the band's relationship with the female members of the hotel staff; apparently the combo had been in residence for most of the summer, and these were (or thought they were) slick, hip Chicago-area guys who had a leg up, so to speak, on bedding whomever they wanted. (I should add that the best player in the band was its Richie Kamuca-influenced tenorman, Keith something-or-other, who was not present at the moment -- perhaps they were waiting for him.) So the crewcut pianist is recounting to his boothmates a conversation he'd recently had with one of his female hotel-staff conquests: "So I said to her, 'Hey, baby, can I put my tongue in your tunnel?'" This is followed by some indication of her assent, after which he continues his side of the remembered dialogue: "Only thing is, tonight I'm using Keith's tongue."

Again, it's hard for me to recall how clearly I understood exactly what all this meant (13-year-olds in 1955 probably led more sheltered lives ), but I think I did fairly suddenly understand just about all of it, and this was a shock -- not only in terms of described but obviously real human behavior but also, especially, in terms of the actual words this guy used. For one thing, while I could imagine what he described happening, I couldn't begin to imagine how someone could actually say those two sentences to a woman, given that both sentences, but especially the second, amounted to an implicitly humiliating (although not without wit in its brutal compactness) assault on her dignity -- as though stripping her of that was a key part of the act. Romance, wooing -- that I could understand and envision. But this was a kind of sadism, no? Again, I was shocked. Further, what this bit of dialogue, and the pianist's decision to tell this tale to his little audience, says about all the various human relationships involved still remains kind of strange and complicated to me.

Nice one, Larry. Here's something from the late Ronnie Scott, admittedly full of British cultural references:

On his early life: "I was born in a room over a Jewish pub in the East End of London. It was called the Kosher Horses. We were very poor. My father was always unemployed. He was a shepherd. We were so poor, they had to buy my clothes from the Army and Navy Stores. Imagine me going to school during the Second World War wearing a Japanese admiral's uniform."

On small towns: "I played a gig once in Tamworth. They have one set of traffic lights there - at the crossroads in the middle of town. They change once a week - at 1p.m. on Wednesdays. Everyone comes out to watch."

,

[The Magnificent Goldberg]

Ronnie was full of them. Here's another.

"The Russkis nuked Scunthorpe. Did £3 damage."

MG

[7/4]

Here's something from the late Ronnie Scott, admittedly full of British cultural references:

On his early life: "I was born in a room over a Jewish pub in the East End of London. It was called the Kosher Horses. We were very poor. My father was always unemployed. He was a shepherd. We were so poor, they had to buy my clothes from the Army and Navy Stores. Imagine me going to school during the Second World War wearing a Japanese admiral's uniform."

On small towns: "I played a gig once in Tamworth. They have one set of traffic lights there - at the crossroads in the middle of town. They change once a week - at 1p.m. on Wednesdays. Everyone comes out to watch."

[DukeCity]

From the mind and mouth of Paul Desmond:

"I have won several prizes as the world's slowest alto player, as well as a

special award in 1961 for quietness."

"I was unfashionable before anyone knew who I was."

"I tried practicing for a few weeks and ended up playing too fast."

"I think I had it in the back of my mind that I wanted to sound like a dry martini."

On the secret of his tone: "I honestly don't know! It has something to do with the fact that I play illegally."

When askfacted by Gene Lees what accounted for the melancholy in his playing he replied, "Wellllll, the fact that I'm not playing better."

He was an English major in college. His reason for not pursuing a literary career, "I could only write at the beach, and I kept getting sand in my typewriter."

"Writing is like jazz. It can be learned, but it can't be taught."

Of writer Jack Kerouac he said, "I hate the way he writes. I kind of love the way he lives, though."

Of Vogue fashion models, he said, "Sometimes they go around with guys who are scuffling -- for a while. But usually they end up marrying some cat with a factory. This is the way the world ends, not with a whim but a banker."

"Sometimes I get the feeling that there are orgies going on all over new York City, and somebody says, `Let's call Desmond,' and somebody else says, 'Why bother? He's probably home reading the Encyclopedia Britannica.'"

His response to the annoying banality of an interviewer, "You're beginning to sound like a cross between David Frost and David Susskind, and that is a cross I cannot bear."

Shortly before the Dave Brubeck Quartet disbanded, "We're working as if it were going out of style -- which of course it is."

Of yogurt he said, "I don't like it, but Dave is always trying things like that. He's a nutritional masochist. He'll eat anything as long as he figures it's good for him."

Of contact lenses: "Not for me. If I want to tune everybody out, I just take off my glasses and enjoy the haze"

On Ornette Coleman's playing, "It's like living in a house where everything's painted red."

Doug Ramsey wrote that Desmond on seeing Barbara Jones' oil painting of four cats stalking a mouse said, "Ah, the perfect album cover for when I record with the Modern Jazz Quartet." Ramsey pointed out that the mouse was mechanical and Desmond responded, "In that case, Cannonball will have to make the record."

Desmond's fondness for scotch was well known. So in early 1976 when a physical examination showed lung cancer, he was ironically pleased that his liver was fine. "Pristine, perfect. One of the great livers of our time. Awash in Dewars and full of health."

[BillF]

A friend of mine spoke to Pepper Adams during a British tour and asked where he'd played the night before. Pepper was at first stumped by this question. Then he rummaged deep in a pocket and brought out a key attached to a large plastic tag on which were embossed the words ROYAL HOTEL SHEFFIELD. "I guess that must be it," said Pepper.

[The Magnificent Goldberg]

Paul Desmond is one of my favourites. He, and others, wrote this.

"There was a boy of Italian parentage named Carbaggio, born in

Germany. Feeling himself a misfit, with his dark curly hair among

all those blond Nordic types, he tries to be even more German

than the Germans. In late adolescence he flees to Paris, where he

steals on of those brass miniatures of the Eiffel Tower. Arrested

by the police, he is given a choice of going to jail or leaving

the country. He boards the first outbound ship and arrives in New

York. Thinking he would like a career in communications, he goes

to the RCA building in Rockefeller Plaza, takes an elevator and

walks into the office of General Sarnoff. Sarnoff tells him that

the only job available is as a strikebreaker. The boy takes it.

When the strike ends, he finds himself on a union blacklist. He

goes to work making sonar equipment for a company owned by a man

named Harris. After several years, his English has improved to

the point where he gets a job as a disk jockey. His show is

called Rock Time. He has fulfilled his destiny: he's a routine

teuton, Eiffel-lootin', Sarnoff goon from Harris Sonar, Rock Time

Carbaggio."

Paul Desmond (and A N Other)

1954

[randissimo]

I'll be back with a story or two later.... Bill Crow's books,"Jazz Anecdotes" is treasure of hilarious jazz stories. If you haven't read his books get them!

[AllenLowe]

well, there's the line from Bill Crow's book about one of Lester Young's sideman, whose playing was bugging Prez, saying to him during a break, "hey Prez, when was the last time we played together?" Lester Young answered: "tonight."

[Christiern]

Pianist Ram Ramirez and I appeared together on a live NYC morning show, several years ago. Ram played.

When we went off the air, an effusive co-hostess approached Ram and said: "I've been thinking of taking up piano."

"That's a funny coincidence," Ram replied, "I've been thinking of taking up talking."

[AllenLowe]

about 15 years ago I played for for William Styron's 65th (I think it was) birthday party in Connecticut and in walked Mia Farrow; this was not long after her whole thing with Woody Allen, the custody trial, the sex scandal, etc. So Harold Danko, who's playing piano, looks at me and says "what should we play?"

I told him and the band "Woody 'n You."

nobody else thought it was a good idea -

[BillF]

Yet another from Ronnie Scott. In the early 1960s when American jazz musicians were rare visitors to London, let alone to the British provinces, Ronnie announced to a club audience in Leeds that he would shortly be presenting at the club an all-star American quintet, jointly led by Stan Getz and Stuff Smith. As the shock of elation died down, he added, "We call it the Getz/Stuff quintet."

[randissimo]

This story came from pianist Eddie Russ;

There was an old drummer-singer named Benny Carew, a smug old timer always telling young drummers not to forget the one and had expressions like' "Hey, hey, hey, what'd I say" and when a musician would enter the room he'd say " There's Randy Marsh, a great musician in his own rite', and of course his signature saying, "Some of the greatest people in the world walk through that door and you're one of them".. Benny was a control freak, constantly badgering his bassist Teddy Weatherford, a real character, a good bass player, and a man who loved his booze and reefer, and Teddy wore a rug that often was not positioned quite right on his head, often creating the image of an old black man with a Davey Crockett cap on...

They were working the winter season at a ski resort in northern Michigan and Benny mind you, is making periodic trips throughout the day to Teddy's room to make sure he remains sober enough to make the gig (which only annoys Ted and causes him to drink and smoke even more just to spite Benny), and when on the bandstand Benny is telling Ted to "lock it up and play the roots and listen to Eddie's changes" and this routine has been going on for over a week now and Friday night Teddy finally has had enough and snaps onstage where he is just to the right of Benny's drums and loudly barks, "I'M PLAYIN' THE GOD DAMNED CHANGES! .. Bb, C, F, Eb, Ab,"etc. Now there's lots of BIG MONEY types from Chicago & Grosse Point, and this older woman with a fortune in jewelry around her neck is on the dance floor with her husband and becomes indignant with Teddy's display and walks over to the bandstand and says, "Please,, do you really have to be so loud and vulgar??" .. Teddy looks at her and says, "SHUT UP BITCH, THIS DON'T CONCERN YOU" and goes on barking the changes he's playing at Benny, and Benny is saying under his breath, "Ok Ted, Lock it up Ted, we'll continue this matter on the break" and Eddie Russ looks like Bill Evans with his head bent down almost touching the keyboard and afraid to look over at the scene that Teddy is making..

Edited February 8, 2008 by randissimo

[randissimo]

This story came from pianist Eddie Russ;

There was an old drummer-singer named Benny Carew, a smug old timer always telling young drummers not to forget the one and had expressions like' "Hey, hey, hey, what'd I say" and when a musician would enter the room he'd say " There's Randy Marsh, a great musician in his own rite', and of course his signature saying, "Some of the greatest people in the world walk through that door and you're one of them".. Benny was a control freak, constantly badgering his bassist Teddy Weatherford, a real character, a good bass player, and a man who loved his booze and reefer, and Teddy wore a rug that often was not positioned quite right on his head, often creating the image of an old black man with a Davey Crockett cap on...

They were working the winter season at a ski resort in northern Michigan and Benny mind you, is making periodic trips throughout the day to Teddy's room to make sure he remains sober enough to make the gig (which only annoys Ted and causes him to drink and smoke even more just to spite Benny), and when on the bandstand Benny is telling Ted to "lock it up and play the roots and listen to Eddie's changes" and this routine has been going on for over a week now and Friday night Teddy finally has had enough and snaps onstage where he is just to the right of Benny's drums and loudly barks, "I'M PLAYIN' THE GOD DAMNED CHANGES! .. Bb, C, F, Eb, Ab,"etc. Now there's lots of BIG MONEY types from Chicago & Grosse Point, and this older woman with a fortune in jewelry around her neck is on the dance floor with her husband and becomes indignant with Teddy's display and walks over to the bandstand and says, "Please,, do you really have to be so loud and vulgar??" .. Teddy looks at her and says, "SHUT UP BITCH, THIS DON'T CONCERN YOU" and goes on barking the changes he's playing at Benny, and Benny is saying under his breath, "Ok Ted, Lock it up Ted, we'll continue this matter on the break" and Eddie russ looks like Bill Evans with his head bent down almost touching the keyboard..

Another funny and true story from the "Benny Carew-Teddy Weatherford Chronicles" came from guitarist Bryce Roberson..

Benny Carew had a house gig in a hotel in Kalamazoo with Teddy and Claude Black, a Detroit piano player who plays a little like Barry Harris. Onstage Teddy had set up on the other end of the grand piano so he wouldn't have to listen to Benny ragging on him, and because the lid was up on the piano Benny couldn't see Teddy and only knew Teddy was done soloing because Teddy would always pick up his bass and step out in front to solo and would stop playing for a couple of bars and resume playing time at which point Benny would always say, "Yes,, yes,, yes,,, it's that happy thang"..

This particular night Teddy had on tux slacks with a faulty zipper and catch.. Teddy takes a big step forward to solo and his pants are falling down around his ankles! So when Ted bends over the bass to pull his pants up his rug falls off! Now he's trying to pull up his pants and pick up his rug off the floor and hears Benny say, " hey,, hey,, hey,, it's that happy thang, Teddy Weatherford on the bass"..

Still struggling to get his pants up and his rug back on Teddy barks back at Benny, "AIN'T NO HAPPY THANG YOU 'JIVE SNAKE"

Edited January 3, 2008 by randissimo

[Christiern]

Ruby Walker, Bessie Smith's niece (by marriage) was herself a good blues singer who recorded with stellar accompaniments.

She was the main source for my Bessie Smith biography and she used the money I paid her to realize a long-time dream and relocate to California. She found a nice apartment in Placentia, one of LA's many suburbs, and bought a used Buick. She was in her Seventies and this was her first car, but she passed the exam and got her driver's license.

One day she called me and said she had done something terrible.

"What did you do?"

"I was driving my car and I hit a white man."

"Really?"

"Yes, and I feel so bad. He wasn't hurt, I just knocked him down and he was very nice about it, so he isn't going to sue, or anything, nut I still feel very bad about it."

I told Ruby that she was lucky and that she should be careful in the future. A couple of weeks later, she called me again.

"You're not going to believe this, Chris, but I've done it again."

"Done what?", I asked.

"I hit another white man!"

"Ruby," I said, "Why are you hitting these white men?"

Ruby became indignant.

"Well, what

else

am I gonna hit?

It's a white neighborhood."

[Larry Kart]

That story (the first one) is a classic, Randy.

[The Magnificent Goldberg]

Ruby Walker, Bessie Smith's niece (by marriage) was herself a good blues singer who recorded with stellar accompaniments.

She was the main source for my Bessie Smith biography and she used the money I paid her to realize a long-time dream and relocate to California. She found a nice apartment in Placentia, one of LA's many suburbs, and bought a used Buick. She was in her Seventies and this was her first car, but she passed the exam and got her driver's license.

One day she called me and said she had done something terrible.

"What did you do?"

"I was driving my car and I hit a white man."

"Really?"

"Yes, and I feel so bad. He wasn't hurt, I just knocked him down and he was very nice about it, so he isn't going to sue, or anything, nut I still feel very bad about it."

I told Ruby that she was lucky and that she should be careful in the future. A couple of weeks later, she called me again.

"You're not going to believe this, Chris, but I've done it again."

"Done what?", I asked.

"I hit another white man!"

"Ruby," I said, "Why are you hitting these white men?"

Ruby became indignant.

"Well, what

else

am I gonna hit?

It's a white neighborhood."

MG

[Christiern]

Another Ruby Smith/Walker story. When I was interviewing her, she would always call be to tell me that she had arrived safely back in Jersey City. Often, while riding the train home, she thought of something she either needed to add or correct. One was:

"Did I tell you about that time in Detroit when a rich white man gave Ethel Waters $500 to eat a shit sandwich?

...and the check bounced?

[The Magnificent Goldberg]

Oh my God!!!!!

MG

[Christiern]

Apropos Ethel Waters, when I asked Ruby what she could tell me about Ethel, she said:

"Well, I can tell you one thing--her eyes weren't on no sparrow!"

[randissimo]

This story came from pianist Eddie Russ;

There was an old drummer-singer named Benny Carew, a smug old timer always telling young drummers not to forget the one and had expressions like' "Hey, hey, hey, what'd I say" and when a musician would enter the room he'd say " There's Randy Marsh, a great musician in his own rite', and of course his signature saying, "Some of the greatest people in the world walk through that door and you're one of them".. Benny was a control freak, constantly badgering his bassist Teddy Weatherford, a real character, a good bass player, and a man who loved his booze and reefer, and Teddy wore a rug that often was not positioned quite right on his head, often creating the image of an old black man with a Davey Crockett cap on...

They were working the winter season at a ski resort in northern Michigan and Benny mind you, is making periodic trips throughout the day to Teddy's room to make sure he remains sober enough to make the gig (which only annoys Ted and causes him to drink and smoke even more just to spite Benny), and when on the bandstand Benny is telling Ted to "lock it up and play the roots and listen to Eddie's changes" and this routine has been going on for over a week now and Friday night Teddy finally has had enough and snaps onstage where he is just to the right of Benny's drums and loudly barks, "I'M PLAYIN' THE GOD DAMNED CHANGES! .. Bb, C, F, Eb, Ab,"etc. Now there's lots of BIG MONEY types from Chicago & Grosse Point, and this older woman with a fortune in jewelry around her neck is on the dance floor with her husband and becomes indignant with Teddy's display and walks over to the bandstand and says, "Please,, do you really have to be so loud and vulgar??" .. Teddy looks at her and says, "SHUT UP BITCH, THIS DON'T CONCERN YOU" and goes on barking the changes he's playing at Benny, and Benny is saying under his breath, "Ok Ted, Lock it up Ted, we'll continue this matter on the break" and Eddie russ looks like Bill Evans with his head bent down almost touching the keyboard..

Another funny and true story from the "Benny Carew-Teddy Weatherford Chronicles" came from guitarist Bryce Roberson..

Benny Carew had a house gig in a hotel in Kalamazoo with Teddy and Claude Black, a Detroit piano player who plays a little like Barry Harris. Onstage Teddy had set up on the other end of the grand piano so he wouldn't have to listen to Benny ragging on him, and because the lid was up on the piano Benny couldn't see Teddy and only knew Teddy was done soloing because Teddy would always pick up his bass and step out in front to solo and would stop playing for a couple of bars and resume playing time at which point Benny would always say, "Yes,, yes,, yes,,, it's that happy thang"..

This particular night Teddy had on tux slacks with a faulty zipper and catch.. Teddy takes a big step forward to solo and his pants are falling down around his ankles! So when Ted bends over the bass to pull his pants up his rug falls off! Now he's trying to pull up his pants and pick up his rug off the floor and hears Benny say, " hey,, hey,, hey,, it's that happy thang, Teddy Weatherford on the bass"..

Still struggling to get his pants up and his rug back on Teddy barks back at Benny, "AIN'T NO HAPPY THANG YOU "JIVE SNAKE"

They don't make 'em like these guyz anymore.. Every night was hoot and they could swing!

[Guest Bill Barton]

Al Cohn's definition of a gentleman: "Someone who knows how to play the accordion, and doesn't."

"If somebody don't open a window on this bus, we'll all get sophisticated." - Vido Musso

"Music is a very hard instrument." - Vido Musso

Jim Hall's comment to an overly "busy" colleague: "Don't just do something; stand there!"

"The only tune they play in 4/4 is 'Take Five!'" - (unknown - talking about the Don Ellis band)

"If I'd known I was going to live this long, I'd have taken better care of myself!" - Eubie Blake

Shelly Manne's definition of jazz musicians: "We never play anything the same way once."

Red Kelly's sign for the bandstand at his Tacoma nightclub: "Go somewhere else and get discovered, and then come here."

______

"When Ornette finished and the Jazztet came on, I turned to the bartender and asked him to dance, because after Ornette, this band that had sounded top-of-the-line just a week before suddenly sounded like the society orchestra at the Hotel Taft."

Paul Bley talking about the Five Spot in 1959

______

"I was conceived by Carla Bley and Michael Mantler at the Newport Jazz Festival in 1965. Born in 1966, I was immediately swept into the musician's life on the road. After having checked me at the coatroom of the Berlin Jazz Festival, to the horror of the press, my parents realized that I was going to have to learn to play an instrument in order to be useful. But since I was still just a baby and they couldn't leave me alone, they had to bring me on stage with them and keep me under the piano. This is probably why I feel most at home on the stage."

Karen Mantler

Edited January 3, 2008 by Bill Barton

[Larry Kart]

Al Cohn at the Montmartre in Copenhagen, asked whether he wanted to try Denmark's celebrated Elephant Beer: "No, man, I drink to forget."

[Joe G]

Randy's got a million of 'em. Another good one involves a warm summer night full of mosquitoes.