The Doorman's Diary 12-15-12

As night sweeps over the city... bringing out the sparkles and neon of light, I am at my my post as The Doorman at the jazz club. I am the gatekeeper troll and Mr. Rogers.  I catch the overly aggressive and encourage the timid flighty. I am the force for good and evil. Tonight we have a sparse crowd, but those that come... stay for most of the night. The quintet keeps them glued in place, playing superbly. The horn players demonstrate repeatedly that they are both exceptional. The trumpet / fluegelhorn player blows clear crystalline ice, while the tenor, alto, soprano plays molten fire. A father and teenage son enter. "I want my son to hear some jazz," the dad says. "You've come to the right place...the cover is five bucks for you; your son enters free as a guest of The Doorman." On the spot, I institute a new policy: a parent bringing an underage child to the club with the express purpose of edifying them to jazz music and culture shall only pay for their admission, while the kid enters free. They enter and disappear into the club. I loose them until the night starts to finish with the last few songs. I'm off duty, enjoying a beer from the nearby boutique brewery. I look over and see the two of them at a hidden high-top, thoroughly enjoying the music. The horns were in an incredible overlap exchange--trumpet and soprano sax--pushing each other and supported by the drummer laying down a complex beat pattern that by rights should require three drumming arms. The son goes to the men's room so I seize the opportunity to speak to the dad without embarrassing the son:  "You're a good man," I say. "I try," he responds. "And succeed," I finish his statement. I tell him that it's incredibly cool that he brought his son to the club and that they're always welcome.