A slide trombone fills in for the tenor giving the jazz quintet a different texture. Their version of Eddie Palmieri’s Listen Here is delightful with the trumpet and trombone. The evening gets better and more interesting. A young lady, who manages the tasting room bar of a local boutique distillery, and her
boyfriend, rush in breathless saying, “I’m playing hooky from
my job, but have been dying to come here—can’t stay long.” I wave them in.
“I’ll be leaving in about 30 minutes—can I come back later after I close our place and I’ll pay you then.” I say jokingly, “Yes, but the
price of re-admission will be a bottle of your gin.” The distillery’s gin is
exceptional and has literally won awards for small batch gin. An
old singer in the audience was invited on stage to sing a few songs. In a strong, clear voice he belts out a couple of Sinatra
tunes and finishes with Hello Dolly, sung at times in a Louie Armstrong voice.
The night was nearing its end and the tenor showed up from his
previous gig and jumps in with the trumpet and trombone to create a
terrific horn blending. I'm outside folding up the tables and chairs
for the smokers when two bicyclists
whiz into the scene and start locking up their bikes. “I’m back…and here’s your
gin.” You knew I was joking, right? “Yeah, but you ARE The Doorman, so I
figure you deserve this.” Amazing, I thought, someone who accords me the
respect I deserve. I thank them profusely and urge them inside to enjoy the
last 30 minutes of music. After folding up the sidewalk I sit at the bar and enjoy a drink. A couple I haven’t seen in awhile arrives and sits at the opposite end. They catch my attention and I nod my greeting. When leaving for the night, I chide them for showing up late. We talk and
I learn that she lives about 200 miles away. I say, “It’s clear… you need to
move here.” She says, “I would… but I’m a traditionalist and he hasn’t proposed
yet.” I ask them my 10 questions of compatibility to confirm the obvious…
they are a perfect-match pair. “I don’t see any reason why you shouldn’t be
married, so as The Doorman I plan to invoke my authority as The Doorman of the
Jazz Club to officially wed you right here and now—are you both willing to do
what is obvious and predestined?” With their agreement, I join their hands,
which I hold tight in mine, and have them exchange vows. In the sacred hall of
Miles, Ornette, Dexter, Grover, Monk,and Sonny I had officiated... and a union is
consecrated!
Sunday, September 2, 2012
The Doorman's Diary 9.1.12
Labels:
daybook,
Dexter Gordon,
diary,
doorman,
doorman's diary,
electric daybook,
jazz,
jazz trumpet,
Jeff Winke,
Jeffrey Winke,
marriage,
music,
night life,
trombone
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