Tag Archives: Dooley Wilson

“MY DAD, A HUGE JAZZ FAN”: NIGHTS AT NICK’S and MUSIC AS MEDICINE

Some time back, I received the following note from Bruce MacIntyre:

My dad, a huge jazz fan, left me an extensive autograph collection, many of which I’ve framed. Mostly musicians & movie stars. One piece, however, I can’t frame since both sides of the piece are desirable for viewing. The piece is a small handbill from Nick’s, but not the postcard that is widely seen, though the same size. “Every Monday Night Jam Session” and “Every Sunday 4-8 P.M. Jazz Session”. Etc. appears on the front.

NICK'S front

The reason I can’t frame it is the reverse side. Autographs by Pee Wee Russell, Muggsy Spanier, Gene Schroeder, and the great Miff Mole. There are also 2 others, Joe Granso, and Bert Mazer. My Dad was there one night when they played.

NICK's rearI asked Bruce if he wanted to add anything to this story, and he certainly did:

My father, Robert MacIntyre, worked for Postal Telegraph as a teenager, delivering messages at the Baltimore’s Penn Station. He’d asked celebrities to sign their message and return it to him, thus staring a huge autograph collection. Most of those still have the Postal Telegraph masthead showing on the autograph.

In those days, VIP’s traveled without the big entourage and would gladly give a person an autograph. Harry James, Gene Krupa, Glenn Miller, Dooley Wilson, Robert Ripley, Ella Fitzgerald, Count Basie, even Eleanor Roosevelt stood there an autographed a message from her husband the President! (It’s a very long list.) Then Dad was drafted and served in Europe, including the Battle of the Bulge.

His sisters feared they’d never see him again, but just in case he returned, they wanted to add to his collection. That’s how he got Red Skelton, Joie Chitwood, and many others, including the 2 handbills I shared with you.
Dad returned from WWII, a little worse for wear. I can’t overemphasize the importance of swing jazz to Dad & his fellow soldiers. Dad had very little to say about anything, and even less to say about his service, except where his music was concerned. Soldiers had the habit of taking a popular jazz tune and replacing the words with their own. As juvenile as that may sound, when you are scared shitless and wishing for your own demise as a way out, singing Pennsylvania 6-5000 with off-color lyrics helped our brave men keep their feet on the ground.
One final note, when Parkinson’s disease got the best of him and he was frozen stiff, unable to speak or even open his eyes, I took my Walkman (1999), clamped the headphones on him, and played him some Louis Prima (yes, Dad had his autograph). Dad’s eyes opened, he tried speaking, and despite the trembling, was trying to tap his toes.
Music as medicine.
A man’s love for the music; a son’s love for his father.  Thank you, Bruce and Robert MacIntyre, for reminding us of the healing powers of the music we love.
May your happiness increase!

SWEET SOUNDS FOR STEPHANE: JON BURR, HOWARD ALDEN, PAUL PATTERSON at JAZZ AT CHAUTAUQUA (September 22, 2012)

Jazz festivals and parties sometimes go full-throttle in an attempt to please the audience by exciting it (PERDIDO by Flip Phillips, anyone?) but it is always so delicious when things quiet down for a piano recital, or something pretty.  “Pretty” doesn’t have to mean dull or morose, as this chamber-jazz set proves . . . string bassist Jon Burr’s tribute to the violinist Stephane Grappelli, someone he worked with for a dozen years.  Accompanying Jon on this sweet voyage are violinist Paul Patterson of the Faux Frenchmen and the illustrious Howard Alden.  All of this was recorded at Jazz at Chautauqua on September 22, 2012.

Savor! (which is very different from the waitperson putting down your plate and commanding you to ENJOY . . . I assure you).  This compact, evocative program manages to evoke Ivie Anderson, the Marx Brothers, Duke Ellington, Bing Crosby, Louis Armstrong, Humphrey Bogart, Lauren Bacall, and Dooley Wilson.  Ah, the power of the great songs!

ALL GOD’S CHILLUN GOT RHYTHM:

MOONGLOW:

PENNIES FROM HEAVEN:

AS TIME GOES BY:

Ah, you must remember this!

May your happiness increase.

(ANOTHER) SUNDAY IN SAUSALITO WITH MAL (July 15, 2012)

It was a sunny afternoon in Sausalito, California, Sunday, June 15, but I and enlightened souls chose the semi-darkness of the No Name Bar (757 Bridgeway) from 3-6 PM for the good hot music and sweet ballads and occasional hijinks of trombonist / philosophical wanderer Mal Sharpe and the Big Money in Jazz Band.  It was fun, and often even more memorable than that.

Incidentally, yelp.com lists the No Name Bar as a “dive bar,” but as one of the patrons said, “I know dive bars, and this is no dive bar.”  The No Name is rather too clean and congenial to qualify . . . sorry!

Mal had with him Paul Smith, string bass; Carmen Cansino, drums; Si Perkoff, keyboard and vocals; Tom Schmidt, clarinet, alto, and vocal; Andrew Storar, trumpet and vocals: a very cohesive group, as you will shortly find out.

People who might only know Mal from his many public lives might be unaware of his work as a jazz trombonist and singer.  In the first of those roles, he is a fine ensemble player — simple, uncluttered, propulsive; as a soloist he emulates Vic Dickenson and Dicky Wells, happily!  Paul Smith is a subtle bassist whose time and taste are delightful; his solos are concise and tasty, and the band rests easily on his foundation.  Drummer Carmen Cansino was new to me, but she’s a wonderfully attentive drummer who catches every musical cue and never gets in the way: her solos have the snap of Wettling or Leeman — a series of well-placed epigrams.  Si Perkoff’s harmonies are supportive, his improvisations eager but never garrulous: he’s a witty, relaxed player with Monkish edges.

The clarinet, by its very nature, inspires some of the most experienced players into unedited exuberance.  Tom Schmidt’s phrases are neat constructions; his sweet / hot alto playing would make Charlie Holmes very happy.  I knew Andrew Storar as the lead trumpet in Don Neely’s Royal Society Jazz Orchestra, but was unprepared for how fine a small-band soloist he is — with a graceful, stepping approach and a burnished tone reminiscent of Doc Cheatham.

Andrew, Sy, and Tom are also first-rate singers . . . with markedly different styles.  These six players blend marvelously as a unit — the band rocked through three sets without a letup.

Mal is a sharp-edged improvisatory comedian (he doesn’t tell jokes; he invents situations and then builds them into wonderfully unbalanced edifices) who plays with and off of the crowd.

Here are some of the highlights of another Sunday in the bar with Mal.

A strolling ROYAL GARDEN BLUES, with a vocal that emphasizes the importance of proper refuse recycling:

Mal had created an extended comedy about one Randy Mancini, and other unrelated Mancinis were in the house (that’s Virgina having her photo taken with the band) so MOON RIVER, with a sweet vocal from Andrew, was just the ticket:

Take you down to New Orleans!  BOURBON STREET PARADE:

And Si reminds us that most everyone Wants A Little Girl.  Or boy.  Or someone to share popcorn with:

Keeping the romantic mood, Mal offers SWEET LORRAINE in honor of Nat and Maria Cole:

More New Orleans cuisine — although not for the lactose-intolerant — ICE CREAM:

A hot version of DINAH:

Andrew Storar favors the singing of Dean Martin, and honors him without copying, on EVERYBODY LOVES SOMEBODY:

Turning the No Name Bar into Rick’s wasn’t easy — the carpenters had to work feverishly — but Si delivers AS TIME GOES BY in a more jocular fashion than the last Dooley Wilson:

And to send everyone out into the sun with just a tinge of harmless malice (Lorna in the audience jumped when Mal said those dark words to her . . . ) here’s YOU RASCAL YOU, sung by Tom and Mal:

I know where the GPS will be pointing me next Sunday.  In fact, I think I already know how to get to 757 Bridgeway without the GPS, and given my directional skills, that is the highest tribute I can pay Mal and the Big Money in Jazz All-Star Orchestra.  And don’t forget to say GOOD NIGHT, PROVINCETOWN.  We are, after all, on the air.

May your happiness increase.