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<$6.08.2006$>
A Song For My Father
| Father's Day is on the horizon so I thought it appropriate to dedicate this piece to Arnold Davis - Arnie, Coltrane's man - my father. By giving me the name Miles, he may have unwittingly formed an inescapable bond between us that may prove to be stronger than the DNA that defines our lineage. Perhaps because of him, the music is in my blood. This is a man who offers a first hand account of the world of Dexter Gordon, Billie Holliday, Lester Young, Oscar Peterson, Sarah Vaughn and other jazz greats that for generations personify the jazz experience. He can take you back to a time when Art Blakey was chased off of the piano because he wasn't cutting it. They made him play drums, where he went on to become a jazz legend. He recalls a Miles Davis gig when bassist Paul Chambers played a note that Miles didn't like; Miles punched Paul in the face sending him in one direction and the bass in another. I spent a few days making calls to Dad pitching questions about his early days in the jazz world. I was curious to know what it was like to be there when stars of jazz were just beginning to shine - when the galaxy was still taking shape. Although this was a writing assignment, it was also quite personal - therapeutic perhaps. In spite of years of successfully juggling family life, a full time job, and the night life of the jazz world, Dad finally split while I was still pretty young, so there was a shortage of "did I ever tell you about the time" dinner time recollections. This is years later and he is ready; he was there - and his memory is flawless. He tells me it was 1951 when a curious but confident 17 year old made his way through the streets of Tin Pan Alley like a beat cop. Tin Pan Alley was a section of Manhattan's west side between 43rd and 57th where cats like Jimmy Cobb, Red Garland, Elvin Jones and Paul Chambers would hang out and talk shop. These were the cats; this was the spot. Young Arnie had been playing alto sax for a few years since getting his first horn from his cousin Herbie at age 14. He studied at the New York School of Music and played in the concert band that would perform at Carnegie Hall once a year. He remembers playing Offenbach's Orpheus Overture. It wasn't enough. One of the youngest of six siblings, Arnold had an ear for the new music that others in the household thought of as so much noise. He was eager to delve into the diminished and augmented scales and complex polyrhythms that Charlie Parker, Thelonius Monk, Dizzie Gillespie and Max Roach introduced to the music scene. Arnie made it known on the street that he was scouting an alto sax tutor. He was told to look up an alto man named McClean - Jackie McClean. Jackie was battling some personal struggles that were all too common to the jazz scene at the time, but he provided some valuable advice. Dad took copious notes. He still has them. "Never stray too far from the melody." It was sometime in '53 when Arnie joined his buddy, tuba player Ray Draper at a recording session where he observed another rising star - a tenor man named John Coltrane. Coltrane was making his mark playing with Thelonius Monk at the Village Gate and Miles Davis at the Village Vanguard. Dad didn't miss the opportunity to approach him with questions about horn technique and harmony. Dad and Coltrane became the best of buddies. In fact, years later when Trane bought a brand new '59 Plymouth it was Dad who taught him how to drive it. Dad remembered Trane loved his new car so much that he would practice his horn in it. By now, Arnie was gigging with his own group and while they never enjoyed widespread acclaim, he continued to take his playing seriously. He would play reel-to-reel tapes of his gigs for his mentor for his critique and feedback. It was in one such session that Dad was convinced to switch from alto to tenor. He didn't hesitate to purchase a new tenor on the advice of his friend and tutor, but he would soon learn he wasn't the only one shopping for a new sound. He describes Trane as excited the day he proudly displayed his brand new soprano sax to him. Not certain what to make of the new horn, Dad wasn't overly impressed; but then Coltrane recorded My Favorite Things showcasing the new soprano and things would never be the same for sax players. Arnie would at one time or another meet and befriend to varying degrees a Who’s Who of jazz greats. Cannonball and Nat Adderley, Lee Morgan, Donald Byrd, Eric Dolphy, Bill Evans, Elvin Jones, Paul Chambers, Jimmy Cobb, Red Garland and McCoy Tyner to name a few. Dad would also befriend another one of the cats that has had a lasting effect on my life - Miles Davis. That's who I'm named after. As close as Dad was to Coltrane it's a wonder my name isn't John or Trane but there was something about Miles that made an impression on Dad. He used to hang out at Miles' place in Manhattan. On one night at the Vanguard, we posed for a photo. Miles Davis, Dad and Me. I was still a baby. It's one of my favorite photos. This June Dad will celebrate his 76th birthday and many of his favorites are gone now. He remembers the day my sister Cheryl called him at work to tell him that Coltrane had passed away. He remembers sitting alone at the wake when everyone else had gone. I ask him about his opinion of today's talent but he doesn't think too highly of many of the new cats - "some of them can play but there's not a lot of soul in the music." He's not a hip-hop fan and he doesn't think much of American Idol but he does still love a good song; "I Can't Make You Love Me" by Bonnie Raitt is one of his favorites. Dad's not playing anymore these days and he finally agreed to pass his tenor on to me. My brother Duane played his alto for years. He has since left it in my care so receiving the tenor felt to me like a rite of passage ceremony. He shipped the horn in a big box and as I tore the paper from the box and removed the packing materials, I contemplated just how meaningful this parcel was. When I saw the vintage brown tenor case looking like thousand dollar Hartman luggage, my chest went heavy. I finally opened the case to reveal its contents and my heart rate quickened. The beautiful brass instrument, with its complex matrix of keys, pads, and springs was more than I could have ever imagined. Add to that the legacy, the history, and it was my 'holy grail'. In my mind, I'll never play well enough by Arnie's standards - after all, he's heard the very best. I've performed all around the world, but the thought of playing for Dad intimidates me. That feeling is one of my driving forces. Maybe one day I'll be ready to play a song for my father - and he'll be pleased. |
