For a Saturday night, we're starting out slow and easy. We're
expecting to Tina-Turner-Proud-Mary it into a full-club frenzy, but right now
the goal is to reach the pivot, and beyond. The pivot point is when the number
of jazz patrons in the club matches the number of staff and musicians. Here is
where my experience and trained understanding of human behavior as a
professional doorman come into play.
A group of young customers appear at the door so I say:
"Great, get in here quick...we just opened the door and since you're the
first ones here you get in free. Grab stools at the bar or a couple of tables
on the floor, because the place will fill up quick. And one of you definitely
needs to try our Tropical Jazz Zombie cocktail -- it's one of our signature
drinks!" With a sense of urgency, making them feel like special insiders,
and suggesting that one of them be brave enough to try something different, we've
got a mini-crowd of six seated in view of the entrance so when others arrive
they don't feel like they're entering a dead club. Now I just need to answer
the stare of my bartender when he is asked to make a Tropical Jazz Zombie
cocktail.
The jazz club is filling and the band is deep into their
version of Dexter Gordon's 1962 zinger "Cheese Cake." The crowd is in
sync with the tenor's retro mood as he swings through the tune. An older man
with a gray fedora tilts his head back, eyes closed, and smiles broadly. The
waitress deftly tucks a fresh whisky old fashioned into the relaxed grip of his
hand resting on the table and gently squeezes his fingers tight around the tub
glass, completing the transaction without resting him from his music stupor.
The music glides the crowd through the delightful moody
night. Well into the second set, an East Indian couple appear at the door. The
man is wearing a full-length plain maroon gown and she is dressed in a
traditional saree. As striking as their appearance is they easily melt into the
crowd -- jazz is the ultimate melting pot and at the jazz club no one is
judged.
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