Beneath the Underdog by Charles Mingus

Author:Charles Mingus [Charles Mingus]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Beneath the Underdog
ISBN: 9781847676160
Publisher: Canongate Books
Published: 2009-02-02T05:00:00+00:00

21

There was a man named Fats Navarro who was born in Key West, Florida, in 1923. He was a jazz trumpet player, one of the best in the world. He and my boy met for the first time on a cold winter night in 1947 in Grand Central Station in New York City. Lionel Hampton’s band had just got off the train from Chicago and Benny Bailey gaily said good-bye and split: he was leaving for Paris, France. The guys all stood around in their overcoats by the clock, waiting for the new man joining the band. A big, fat fellow walked up carrying a trumpet case and asked in the oddest high squeaky voice ‘This the Hampton crew?’ and Britt Woodman introduced Fats Navarro.

Charles felt embarrassed as the band walked out. There were strangers, women and children, all around, and the guys were laughing too loudly and joking and words like motherfucker and cocksucker echoed through the station. They took the shuttle to Times Square and another subway to Pennsylvania Station and boarded the train for Washington, D.C. It was my boy’s first trip to the Apple, but all he saw of it was underground.

Next day they rehearsed at the Palace Theatre in Washington. Hampton had a nine-brass book. The trumpets were Wendell Cully, Duke Garrett, Walter Williams and the high-note player they all called ‘Whistler’. Navarro just sat there placidly with his horn on his lap waiting for his solos while the rest of the band played arrangements. When Hamp pointed to him, Fats stood up and played, and played, and played! played! played! One of the other trumpet players became resentful of this new star in their midst and started muttering, ‘Schitt, this guy can’t even read!’ Fats laughed, grabbed the musician’s part, eyed it and said, ‘Schitt, you ain’t got nothin’ to read here!’ And he sight-read from the score impeccably for the entire last show.

Fats was featured all that week in Washington and then they went on the road. The trumpet player whose part Fats had read with such scornful ease couldn’t forget what had happened. He was a man who carried a gun and he was convinced he had been insulted. He was lipping a lot about how he would kill Fats one of these days.

They travelled by bus. The small instruments were in the luggage racks, the basses lay cushioned in the back row. Seats were assigned by seniority and the one next to my boy was vacant and was given to Fats Navarro. Mingus and he hadn’t talked much up to now. The first night out the whole band was tired and they settled down to rest as the bus headed west. Later Mingus woke up feeling uneasy. It was past twelve midnight and everything was still, the men were sleeping, but the seat beside Mingus was empty. He heard a voice in the dark, someone pleading. ‘No ... nooo ... noooo ...’ Then a familiar little high-pitched voice squeaked, ‘Don’t

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.