Feature Articles Spring 2002 Boogie Kings Duke Ellington Scrapple Mile High Musings Tributes

Feature Articles - Scrapple from the Apple by Russ Dantzler Last November, Kansas City's Jam Magazine editor Mike Metheny asked me to write a column on "How the Jazz world has changed since Sept. 11," from a New York prospective. I agreed, with the provision that I could tie in a tribute to Etta Jones. Below is the column, this first ran in Jam. Scrapple from the Apple © Russ Dantzler 2002 What Every Jazz Lover Can Do Now It never was easy to make a living by presenting or performing jazz.Things got worse when our foundations were ravaged on September 11. Clubs had to deal with artists who couldn't or wouldn't travel -- if those clubs were even able to open their doors. Some performers were asked to take less money than they had agreed to long ago. Clubs may now close, some artists may seek day jobs. Living and working a little less than three and a half miles from Ground Zero, I felt at once very near and extremely far from the tragedy. Not a single person I know associated with jazz was lost or injured on that clear, blue day. But this business of music was bombed just as surely as the Towers, at least in the short term. Live music has always been an addiction of mine. I've needed a fix at least twice a week ever since my teens to prevent withdrawal symptoms. After "that day," it took a full two weeks for me to want to go out again. Now the music and lyrics mean more to me than ever. Music certainly have healing powers. As Art Blakey said, "Jazz wipes away the dust of everyday life." In mid-June, 1998, back in our age of innocence, I had booked my favorite living vocalist into a spectacular private party for Microsoft. The location was "Windows on the World," the 107th floor of World Trade Tower One. Etta Jones, who lost her second long battle with cancer on October 16 at the age of 72, was the performer. Etta was not accustomed to corporate events, where a singer can be in the background as people socialize. She came directly to me after the first set with a sad look and said, "They aren't listening, I don't think they like me." I asked her to turn around. A line of people wanting to meet this great lady had formed behind her! Etta Jones never became as famous as her talent justified. She was also too much of a friend to act the diva role. Divas remain detached and "above" the fans. Etta couldn't be close enough to them. She remembered every person's name, no matter how long it had been since she'd seen them. All of the great jazz musicians I know wanted to play with Ms. Jones. This is certainly not true with most female vocalists. But Etta was the ultimate, team-playing musician, always interacting. Etta sang as beautifully as ever with her musical partner, the great tenorman Houston Person, at the Charlie Parker Jazz Festival in Harlem's Marcus Garvey Park last August 25. She concluded with her trademark "Don't Go To Strangers." Typically, adoring fans swarmed around her afterward, as she smiled radiantly. She went on to perform without compromise until two weeks prior to her death. Go out an enjoy the healing power of jazz -- be a part of the extraordinary community that it brings. Get it while you can, because as Etta Jones would say, "Life ain't no dress rehearsal." "You can't take away our song -- music is in the forefront of all of these benefits," said Reverend Dale Lind, the Pastor to the Jazz Community in New York City. Lind was optimistic, citing a turnout of 500 people for the 31st annual "All Night Soul" on October 7 at his ministry's Saint Peter's Church. "A Great Night in Harlem," the Apollo benefit for the Jazz Foundation of America on September 24, and Veritas, the annual benefit to aid victims of substance abuse held in Charlie Parker's name on October 1 were also very well-attended. The Blue Note, the Village Vanguard, the Knitting Factory and smaller clubs within sight of the Towers were not so fortunate. They are located south of 14th Street, the "off limits" or closed for a time to all-but-residents section of the city. The Vanguard, a small room in the same location since 1935, is north of the others mentioned. This institution commonly sells out -- but it took until Saturday, October 13 for them to do so after the disaster. "The Japanese are noticeable by their absence," said owner Lorraine Gordon. She added that New Yorkers were coming out in force. The Blue Note, with 60% tourist business and normal covers of $30 to $50 and up, opened its doors to emergency workers and local jazz organization members just to fill the room for a while. "We want to give tickets away just to get back to life," said Blue Note president Sal Haries. In a clear demonstration of hard times, the club dismissed its very effective, long-term publicist six weeks after the attacks. The Knitting Factory, about a mile and a half south of 14th Street and a half mile from the site, overcame impossible difficulties to open on September 19. They rely heavily on internet bookings, but had no phone lines working whatsoever. So they hacked into their own site elsewhere, and each employee got a cell phone. Reservations were put on all police checkpoint lists, and fifty people attended the re-opening. Those of us who had gone listening to music with Etta knew that she kept her friends out until the last note was played. People would try to get her to go home, and she'd respond, "This ain't no dress rehearsal." That was her approach to living life to the fullest. In 1996 she threw a birthday party in the Bronx with other childhood friends, including Gloria Lynne. Shortly after the microphones were put away, Etta was leading a dozen dancers doing the Electric Slide at 4:00 a.m.! Etta Jones was born in Akron, Ohio, on November 25, 1928. In 1994, she spoke with me of beating supposedly-fatal cancer, having just been informed by her doctor that she was then "clean" for five years. Cancer returned to a lobe of her left lung late last year. It never prevented her from performing with a smile. Since Etta's passing we have also sadly lost drummer David "Panama" Francis, and The Poet of the Piano, Tommy Flanagan. In just a blink of history's eye, the jazz world lost its complacency and three of its master performers. Did we need to be reminded that life for everybody and every place is temporary? Your favorite artists and the venues in which they perform won't be around forever. But if you support them, you may extend their lives. Go out an enjoy the healing power of jazz -- be a part of the extraordinary community that it brings. Get it while you can, because as Etta Jones would say, "Life ain't no dress rehearsal." © 2002 Russ Dantzler Russ Dantzler can be reached at Hot Jazz Management 212.586.8125 or Russ@HotJazzNYC.com Read the Poem written about Etta Jones and a tribute to Tommy Flannagan in the Tributes section of BMF Jazz.

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