THE LADY IS A TRAMP In the 1980s in San Francisco there was a great jazz club on 5thst named Milestones. Founded by jazz impresario Sonny Buxton, it had a great run until the Loma Prieta Earthquake damaged most of the buildings in that part of town including the one containing the club. I lived in an artist loft in the area and stopped in fairly often to have a drink with John Handy who led the house band and is often remembered for Hard Work that funky jazz track released in the mid 70s. One night we are in there listening to the featured band and in the audience is a guy who is obviously drunk. When I mean drunk I mean shitfaced, he could barely stand. Every once in a while you could hear him raise his voice and say something to the band. It was obviously making the band leader upset and finally as the band finished a number he tells the guy “look , Why don’t you shut up unless you want to come up here and show us how it’s done”. The drunk stands up and says “that’s easy” and wobbles up on to the stage tripping on the stairs and falling on his way there. Eventually he is center stage grabs a mike and looks at the audience as if he is not sure why he is there. Turning to the band he asks “do you know The Lady Is A Tramp? They nod and start laying down the melody, he stops them and gives them a faster tempo and turns to the audience. Slowly he turns to the audience and suddenly the boozy presence seems to dissipate as the fog does on cold nights in the city when you come over a hill and all of a sudden it’s just gone and everything is clear. The drunk had disappeared and in his place was a little guy with a mustache and a pork pie hat who opened his mouth and swallowed everyone in the club into his reality. “She gets too hungry for dinner at eight”. At first he is just riding on top of the music but little by little the band responds and pretty soon he owns them, his voice is doing the driving and the band is scrambling like thoroughbreds responding to the jockey’s touch. Everyone in the club is in on the ride like spectators watching a nose to nose race, eyes glued to the stage, knowing this is once in a lifetime stuff. His voice is so rich, creamy smooth like Sinatra or Bennett but with more power. They are rounding the turn now going for the final stretch, the last verse, the big finish. “She loves the free fresh wind in her hair “ Last verse has started and everyone can feel it, more magic is coming. You can’t just whip a band up and drive them like this and stop on a dime but somehow we all know if anyone can do it this guy can. Suddenly we are there “ That’s why the lady (first time) That’s why the lady (second time) “ The band keeps going and the little man swings around looking at them with this expression that says idiots. He motions them to keep going and they bring it around again “ That’s why the lady (first time) That’s why the lady (second time)” An abrupt gesture of his hand and they stop right there, you can hear a pin drop and the fellow in the pork pie with tears rolling down his face says to the audience “AND THAT’S WHY THE LADY IS A TRAMP in a voice full of pain. He threw the microphone down on the floor left the stage and as he headed for the front door of the club his body started to morph. The shoulders drooped the unsteady walk returned, by the time he reached the door he was an incoherent drunk again, mumbling and groaning. The front door opened and he squeezed by some people coming in who gave him one of those looks that translated to” I am glad he’s leaving . I wouldn’t want to share my posh jazz club experience with that” As they entered and realized that everyone was staring at the back of that little drunk as he left the club their look changed and now it said “I wonder what he did” Maybe someone clued them in, I just know I didn’t. Sometimes you see Magic with a capital M and talking about it too soon afterwards can cheapen it , lessen it and I couldn’t risk that.
Posted on: Sat, 05 Jul 2014 03:42:02 +0000
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