When I was 18 years old, right out of high school, I spent the summer of 1945 studying and acting at the Priscilla Beach Theatre in Plymouth, Massachusetts. At the end of that summer I wanted to see New York, so I traded in the sleeper ticket I had for the train trip back to Seattle and got a coach ticket and a few refund dollars that made it possible for me to take a bus to New York and stay there for a week, staying at the 34^th Street YMCA, where I could get a bed for 25 cents a night.

There were several large movie theatres on or near Times Square which had name bands playing shows between showings of their movies. I saw the bands of Cab Calloway, Tommy Dorsey, Paul Whiteman and Henry Busse. Then I found the jazz clubs in Greenwich Village, the Café Society Downtown, Condon’s, Nicks, the Pepper Pot and the Village Vanguard.

I didn’t dare go into most of those places because I had so little money, and there was no indication of prices on the signs outside the clubs. But I found that I could hear some of the music by hanging around the entrances, and so I was able to hear a little of Art Tatum, Billie Holiday, Eddie Condon’s band, Wild Bill Davison and Pee Wee Russell.

At the end of my New York week, I only had a dollar and my ticket home, so I got on the train with a dozen cookies that had cost that dollar, and that was my food for the four-day trip.

I was supposed to arrive on the morning of the fourth day, but in the middle of the night, somewhere in eastern Washington, our train ran into another train! It was sitting on a siding, and someone had forgotten to close the rail switch, and our train went onto the siding right into the other train. There were several injuries, but I only had a scratch on my shin where I had been tossed under the seat in front of me.

While we waited for them to get us rolling again, a man with a briefcase came into our car and began doling out money to people who were hurt, in exchange for signed releases. I showed him my leg, and he gave me five dollars, with which I hurried to the dining car, because I had eaten all my cookies, and was very hungry. But the dining car had used up all its food and had nothing to sell me.

So, with my stomach growling, I waited until they finally got our train running again, and was met by my worried parents who had been waiting for hours at the station in Seattle. Instead of driving right home, they took me to a restaurant and got some food into me while I told them about my adventures.

***

There used to be a jazz club on Manhattan’s east side called the Roundtable. Al Cohn hired me to play in a big band there for a couple of weeks, backing Mel Torme. I mentioned this to Dave Lambert’s young daughter Dee, and she said she liked Torme, so I invited her to be my guest on opening night.

When I was at a rehearsal at the club, I told the manager that I wanted to make a reservation for her, and he refused. “No single women allowed in here,” he growled. I protested. “She’ll be with me,” I said. “Not when you’re on the bandstand.” So I had to reluctantly cancel the invitation.

A couple of nights into the engagement, Gerry Mulligan and Judy Holiday came in to hear us, arriving just as we finished the first show. They found seats at the bar, and then Gerry came back to the band room to say hello to his friends.

While we were chatting with Gerry, one of the guys in the band ran in and said, “They’re throwing Judy out!” We ran to the bar, and sure enough, the manager was telling her to leave. Gerry said, “Are you crazy? This is Judy Holiday, the movie star!” The manager said, “I don’t care who she is, we don’t allow single women in here.” I said, “What would you do if your wife wanted to come down and hear Mel Torme?” He replied, “I wouldn’t let my wife come into a place like this.” That club didn’t last very long.

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While Michael Rose was playing golf with Richard Hayman in Florida a few years ago, Hayman told Michael this story:

In his capacity as Chief Music Arranger for the Boston Pops Orchestra, Hayman was given the assignment to write the arrangements for an upcoming concert in which Duke Ellington was to be featured.

At the rehearsal with Ellington, with Arthur Fiedler conducting, Fiedler called Richard’s attention to the score, and said that there were some notes missing. Richard asked what specifically he meant. Fiedler said that after the initial statement of the song, Ellington was playing notes that were not on the score. Richard told Fiedler that was improvisation. Fiedler responded by saying, yes but I’d like to know the notes that he’s going to play, so that I can conduct him. Hayman replied, “Arthur, Duke doesn’t know the notes that he is going to play until he plays them!”