DAVID AMRAM about OSCAR PETTIFORD

start | duke | klook | prez | mlw

OSCAR 1957-1960 | SONGS BY OP

David Amram: Vibrations.

The adventures and musical times of David Amram.

NYC, The Macmillan Company 1968.

Pp. 286-290:

Just as I was stone broke and about to go looking for a day job, Oscar Pettiford called up. He said that the all-star band was going out on a tour for a while. I was happy to go. Even though I knew there wouldn't be much money, I wanted to play with all the fellows again. It would give me a big boost, after all this time with Shakespeare, to get back into the twentieth century. I also felt that it would help me in writing my trio.

It was a treat to see all the musicians. I missed playing with them, and we all got to rehearsal early, so we could hang out. Some of the guys had heard my music for the Shakespeare Festival.

"Yeah, I heard you. Ya-bah-dup-a-deee," said Jerome Richardson, the tenor-sax player, singing a fanfare I had written a year ago. That cheered up my whole week, because I had jammed with Jerome up at Minton's in 1955 when he worked there. He knew as much about classical music as he did about jazz, and was completeley schooled in theory and played four instruments equally well. The whole band was well schooled, for that matter.

"The bread might be a little sad," Oscar warned us after our rehearsal. No one said anything. All of us loved Oscar. When he could not always pay us the full amount each night, those of us without families would take the smallest amount. Of course when he had the money we would always get it. Having a band like his was a constant struggle. Nevertheless, we always had a ball.

Our trip to Florida turned out to be the longest one-nighter I'd ever played. The regular trombonist disappeared and in his place came another player nicknamed Porkchops (...)

We then got on the train (at Washington train station) and about two o'clock in the morning got off at some scraggly town. We were taken in a broken-down old bus to the airport. From the airport we flew to some place in Florida where another bus met us, even more broken-down than the first. From there we rode through the Everglades without stopping because our white driver informed us, looking at Ed London and J. R. Montrose, the other white guys in the band, with his steely blue Cracker eyes, "You boys would be dead in a minute." He looked as if he wanted to complete his prophecy himself.

I noticed at the bus station that the black people of Florida - and this was before any of the freedom marches - were astounded to see a Negro band leader with three white musicians working for him. The musicians who were from New York were upset by the terrible living standards in Florida and by the terror you could see in most of the black people's faces. It was a sad sight.

Finally we got to the university. Oscar was in a very bad mood and refused to get out of the bus. "I'm going to sleep here," he growled. He proceeded to lie down in the bus and conk out. We were given a room to change in and some supper since by this time it was six o'clock at night and almost time for us to play. Some of the last-minute replacement like Porkchops had never seen the music before and we were supposed to have an extra rehearsal, but Oscar was sleeping so we had our supper and tried to rest for an hour. We woke up Oscar and began our job. Because some of the people hadn't played the music before, the band didn't sound nearly as as good as we did at Birdland. The kids at the concert dance really enjoyed it though. They recognized the names of many of the musicians in the band who were known in the jazz world and cheered us on.

Afterward the college president had a reception for the band, a very formal affair. Oscar was sulking in the corner, angry at the way the music had been played.

Finally one of the musicians went over to Oscar with the college president and said, "Oscar, I would like you to meet the president of the college."

Suddenly Oscar's face broke into a demonic smile. He threw his arms around the startled president and said, "Hey, motherfucker, what's happening?" and began bear-hugging him and shouting with laughter as only he could do. The president and members of the faculty were rather startled, but it broke the freeze and after that we had a ball the rest of the evening. Oscar was the most honest and kindhearted man I ever worked for. His crazyness was part of his great gift, which was why musicians would do anything for him. By the end of the evening he had charmed everyone on the faculty. We stayed up till four that morning. Then we got back into the bus and headed for New York. We arrived in Manhattan about fifteen hours later through another series of train rides, plane rides and bus rides with short stops here and there to go to the bathroom or get something to eat.

(...)

A week later we had our last big job. It was a concert in Springfield, Massachusetts, where Dinah Washington also appeared. There were only about eight signs in all of Springfield, no advertising in the papers or anywhere else. Only twenty-five people showed up at the armory because no one knew about it. Oscar had a good name at the time, but Dinah Washington had a very big name, which could have filled the house. She was upset too. She sat in and sang with our band and we sat in with members of her band and we spent the whole night having a session. Only the family men got paid whatever Oscar could scrap together. The rest he paid out of his pocket.

We all knew as we drove back from Springfield that the band was finished. We felt sad. As soon as Oscar sensed this, he started shouting, laughing and bellowing at us to liven things up. He wasn't about to let any one feel sorry for him.

"You going to do more Shakespearing?" he asked me, as I walked with him to Twenty-eighth Street when every one else had gone their way.

"Sure," I said. "I hope we can still play. If I can help any way - you know, copy parts or anything..."

"Help? Help?" shouted Oscar, as if he were being attacked by an army of Venusians. "What the hell are you talking about? Do I need your help? Listen, Dave, you help yourself! Get it all together. Be as good as you can be. Write as beautiful as possible. You can do it. Don't worry about helping nobody, man. That's jive and you know it. You keep writing and don't let nobody stand in the way of what you got to say. We are all blessed by God to be in music. O.K., let's have a little taste at my house. I love French horns. When we work again, I don't want you guys to miss any more notes and mess us up. I listen, you know, I hear everything."

We went to Oscar's apartment and started drinking ale.

"Isn't life beautiful?" shouted Oscar. "We've got the most gorgeous band in the world. Yeah! And don't make no noise," he roared, pouring out more ale. "My son's sleeping and he's got school tomorrow. Cheers, Dave."

"Cheers, Oscar," I whispered.

"God put us here to blow. Man, if you talk any more trash I'll cut my French-horn section. I'll replace you with mellophones! Didn't we sound fine tonight? What a band!"

We stayed up all night and Oscar showed me an Indian dance he had learned as a child. When his son got up to go to school we were dancing in a circle. His wife cooked us breakfast and I finally went home. I could have stayed for days. Oscar was the best company in the world. He had the biggest heart of anyone I ever worked for. He was one of those people who showed me the power of the pure positive approach toward everything. By utilizing your own energies and your own life forces you can affect other musicians and other people and even change the whole atmosphere from being uptight or negative or depressing into being joyous.

OSCAR 1957-1960 | SONGS BY OP

email: themenschmidt@t-online.de

start | duke | klook | prez | mlw

DAVID AMRAM about OSCAR PETTIFORD