Being on the road with a show was a benefit
I had not even imagined. Some of the most inspiring experiences of my life came
during these times, sometimes not even related to the show. For example, I was coming
down one morning to the lobby of my hotel in Boston. I noticed the entrance in
the lower lobby of a night club called Storyville. When I came back later, I
saw a group of people downstairs so I went down to check it out. On the way I
recognized Russell Procope and Jimmy Hamilton. It’s Duke’s band! I told them I
was with the show next door. They invited me to come into the club. “We’re
getting ready to rehearse. Would you like to come in and check it out?” What an
opportunity!
Duke hadn’t arrived yet. All the cats were
standing around the bar, smoking, drinking, never thinking of rehearsal, nonchalant.
Then Duke entered and sat next to the piano, got comfortable and started
playing a nice easy blues. The bassist Ernie Shephard reacted first, put down
his drink and had his bass out of its cover before Duke finished his first
chorus. When Ernie started, my idol Sam Woodyard, sharp as a switchblade,
looked up. He was holding his cigarette and his drink both in his left hand
while gesturing to make his point with the mighty right. I still can’t do that!
As soon as Sam heard that bass line underneath Duke’s piano, he broke off
immediately, got right up there and started laying down that impeccable time,
and the shit was on now!
Everyone was focused on getting up there to
get a piece of this groove. A sweet trumpet solo was followed by a clarinet
chorus or three. Then I noticed a lone figure come striding across the stage,
his tenor out ready to hit the downbeat at the top of the next chorus. Paul
Gonsalves, the last to arrive, was ready. But the downbeat never came. Right on
the one, Duke stood up and cut the band off with an emphatic sweep of his right
hand. Absolute silence swept the room and Ellington said in a mellow tone, “Now,
gentlemen, let’s look at the passage we kind of fumbled through last evening.”
How elegant, how cool could a bandleader
possible be! It was a lesson in psychology as well as musicianship and
discipline. After the show that night I got back in time to catch most of the
last set. The effect of the rehearsal was evident in the performance. One of
the trumpet players played a rhythm on the cowbell I had heard in the
rehearsal, but this time some others picked up claves and maracas in the
section and transported the audience to a Caribbean island. The band swung
right on through the night as usual and left us dancing out of the club and
back upstairs into the night.
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