Lush Life by David Hajdu

Author:David Hajdu [Hajdu, David]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Music, Biography, Non-Fiction, History
ISBN: 9780865475120
Google: snKKy0SnkzcC
Amazon: 0865475121
Goodreads: 112503
Publisher: Farrar, Straus and Giroux
Published: 1996-01-01T06:00:00+00:00

8

THERE WAS NOBODY LOOKIN’

Billy Strayhorn and Duke Ellington inhabited the same world, but each for his own reasons and on his own terms, and you could see the difference at the Hickory House. Between 10:00 and 11:00 p.m. once or twice a week, Strayhorn slipped in alone or, less frequently, with a friend or two. He had a spot: the bar, varnished black walnut and about fifty feet long, was U-shaped—in front of it, there were twenty-five or thirty tables for six or more laid with red linens; behind it, there was a bandstand where solo pianists like Marian McPartland or small groups like the Dwike Mitchell–Willie Ruff Duo performed—and Strayhorn always sat at the very last stool on the right side of the U, where he was tucked away and turned at right angles to both the performers and the customers. He had eye contact only with the bartender, usually Jimmy Ratigan, who knew how Strayhorn liked his gin and tonics: with Beefeater’s and Schweppes and in steady sequence. Strayhorn would take his seat, light a cigarette, and slide a twenty-dollar bill on the bar, rarely taking change home; one gin and tonic cost $1.75. “From where he sat, it was hard to see if he was there or not,” said McPartland, whose set regularly included a disciplined rendition of “Lush Life”; when he heard it, Strayhorn would turn to face McPartland—always at the conclusion, never during the performance—eyebrows and cocktail raised high in a toast, and he’d let out an affirming “Aaaaah!” When he was in Manhattan, Ellington came in around midnight three or four times a week. Surrounded by an entourage—perhaps his sister, Ruth, the businessman and lyricist Edmund Anderson, and two or three others somehow related to his project of the moment—Ellington also had a spot: the table for eight at the center of the room. “The focus of attention immediately shifted from [the performer] to Ellington,” said McPartland. Ellington ate his usual (a steak, a half a grapefruit, and a cup of hot water with lemon peel), greeted his public with smiles and nods—fearful of exposure to germs while eating, he’d slip his arms under the table to avoid shaking hands—and caught up on the news on the street from other Hickory House regulars. Strayhorn would give a little wave to the Ellington party and stop by the table for a few minutes shortly before leaving, unless Ellington was talking to Joe Morgen.

The kingpin of the Hickory House crowd, Morgen was a fast-talking Broadway-beat publicist who seemed to have wandered off from his rightful place in a production of Guys and Dolls. Chubby and about five foot five, topped off with a few strands of dark hair that looked to be penciled across his pate, Morgen had a reputation for gracelessness and aggression, enhanced by a thyroid condition that, in popping his eyes, created the illusion that he was even more manically obsessed than he in fact was. In conversation, Morgen liked to clean his ears with a swizzle stick.

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