Girl Singer by Mick Carlon

Author:Mick Carlon
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Leapfrog Press
Published: 2015-10-04T00:00:00+00:00

However, by late 1940 Pres was gone, leaving Basie for his own small combo in L.A. Then the United States entered the war and I heard he’d been drafted, just like Papa Jo and Sweets and Freddie and Dickie and Buck. “It’s lucky we’re too fat,” chuckled Jimmy one afternoon to Big ‘Un.

“Pays to eat well, Brother Rushing,” said Big ‘Un, polishing his big bass.

I told myself that I’d never leave Basie—that I owed this dear man too much. But something happened at Fort Morrill, Georgia in July 1944 that made me realize I probably needed a good long rest.

By this time I’d had a few hit records and had my own share of fans. But did I do what I did because I’d grown too big for my own head?

No, I really don’t think I did. But you decide:

It was as hot as Georgia in July as we rolled into Fort Morrill. D-Day—the day the Allies began snatching France back from Hitler—was five weeks in the past, and everyone was saying that the war would soon be over. I kept tabs on all my old Basie brothers, and I knew that none had yet died in battle. (Luckily, none would).

Stupidly, I assumed that we’d be playing for both black and white soldiers. We saw many black soldiers as the Blue Goose rolled slowly through the narrow streets of the base. Most smiled and waved. One young private even doffed his cap and called out, “I loved Herschel, man!” Hot tears from that.

The Fort Morrill theater was not the worst we’d played—but close to it. With a low ceiling, metal floors, and cramped restrooms, it was none too welcoming. Neither was the officer in charge, Major Gahm or something. A short red-faced turd, he looked at Basie with outright disgust.

“You boys will go on at eight o’clock sharp,” he said. “Tardiness is not tolerated here.”

Basie stared daggers at the dude. “My men are professionals who know how to tell time.”

“Well, that’s fine. Glad to hear it,” said Major Gahm. “Now you asked in your letter if you’d be playing to colored soldiers. I ran it by my superiors and the answer is no.”

“What the—?” swore Big ‘Un. I’d never heard the big man curse before and it was a shock.

“Why the hell not?” asked Basie. I’d never seen the boss this angry before. It was a day of firsts.

“Number one, watch your language, boy,” snapped Major Gahm, growing even redder in the face. “Second, be satisfied that you’re playing your music in front of United States soldiers.”

“Come on, Bill, let’s get out of here,” said Jimmy. “We don’t need this garbage.”

Major Gahm (or something) raised himself to his full height, which wasn’t much. “You do that, boy, and I’ll make sure the entire nation knows that you’re unpatriotic scum who refused to play for our servicemen.”

“Wait a minute,” said Basie. “Big ‘Un, Jimmy, Avery—over here.”

Looking at his watch, the major said, “I’ll give you one minute.”

“You can’t be considering this,” said Big ‘Un.

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