In either December 1950 or January 1951, when Harold Granowski and I were members of the John Brooks Trio, we shared a concert with Pete Seeger and the Weavers. They had been inactive during the blacklist days, and this was their first time in public concert for a while. We played at Town Hall, and our part of the concert featured folk songs played by jazz musicians. Added to our trio were Benny Green on trombone, Budd Johnson on tenor and Taft Jordan on trumpet. I can still hear Taft’s beautiful rendition of “Shenandoah.”

***

This quote from Shirley MacLaine was posted on Facebook by a Sinatra fan page:

“Traveling back to California in his plane, across country, after our last stadium show (this was 1992, so Sinatra was 76 years old), Frank didn’t want to sleep. It was late at night. He thought everyone else was asleep. I watched him. He went to the back of the plane and quietly retrieved the snack food from the galley. He got down on his hands and knees and surreptitiously stuffed everyone’s shoes with popcorn, peanuts, jellybeans, gumdrops, crackers, and nuts. Frank Sinatra, my friend, legend, and glorious survivor, would do anything to have some fun.”

***

Rich Shanklin sent this to me:

Howard Johnson, of tuba and baritone sax fame, served as a musician in Navy bands. On the day he was to be discharged from the service, he went from shipboard office to office, getting his paperwork signed. His last stop was at the paymaster’s office, where he was told that the office wouldn’t open until 9 in the morning. Howard exclaimed “Nine o’clock? By ten, I’m going to be a civilian, and by noon I’m going to be a jazz legend!”

Rich also sent this:

Years ago, I had the chance to play baritone sax on a gig for the Cleveland JazzFest. I was delighted to find out that Howard Johnson was also playing on the concert. We ended up sitting next to each other. At one point, I saw a low G (2 ledger lines below the treble clef, and outside of the normal low A bottom note on our horns) written on my part. I nudged Howard and with a grin I asked, “What’s the fingering for this note?” Without hesitation, he picked up his sax, played a fingered low A, and then dropped his jaw and played a perfect low G. He grinned at me and said, “Just because it’s not in the normal range doesn’t mean that you’re not responsible for it.” Lesson learned.

***

Rich Shanklin told me:

All arrangers use and reshape material they’ve already been exposed to, so being “original” is really a misnomer. David Baker had a nice comment on this: “Originality can best be defined as ‘choosing obscure sources.’”

***

Eric Gladstone sent me this:

Doug Lawrence, currently the lead tenor with the Basie Band, was on a 10-day tour in the New York area with the Roy Eldridge Band. Their last gig was at an upstate bar. When they got there, the bar owner and his wife and daughter were the only people in the place. When the band started playing, the wife got up and went home.

During the first tune, the guys in the band started goofing around. Roy stopped playing, turned around and said, “What the hell are you guys doing?!” Eddie Locke replied, “Roy, there’s nobody here!” To that Eldridge replied “Well I’m here, mother******s.”

The band shaped up, and they played what Doug says was the best gig of the tour.

***

Dave Ryan posted this one:

Back in 83, I was on the Glenn Miller band when Mel Lewis and a bunch of guys from his band at the Village Vanguard were on the road with us, filling in. On one of the bus trips, we stopped for lunch, and when the bill came, the waitress saw the bus parked out front. She paused for a second and said to Mel that Glenn Miller was her favorite band, and she said, “Would you mind if I got your autograph, Mr. Miller?” Mel said “Sure,” and grabbed the paper she handed him and signed it “Glenn Miller.” After she left, one of the guys at the table asked him why he didn’t tell her who he really was. Mel said, “Hell, if she doesn’t know that Glenn Miller is dead, she’s sure as hell isn’t going to know who I am.”

Bill Barbour added a comment:

We had a similar story. Another time, without Mel. We were getting out of the Miller bus and a woman said she’d love to talk to Glenn. Without missing a beat, one of our guys said, “Lady, right now Glenn would love to talk to anybody.”

***

Long ago, Zoot Sims told me that his dad, who drank a bit, was once challenged by a cop, and was told to walk the curb. Being a vaudeville hoofer, his dad tap danced it. The cop laughed and let him go.