A Bite of the Apple …. Part I

Willie Thomas | February 22, 2011

I just turned 80 years old a few days ago, and of late, I find myself quite frequently assessing my life, where I've been or where I haven't been and what I've done or what I haven't done. The “I haven't been there” part, in most cases, no longer seems as important as the what I have done part of the equation. I've been blessed with good health, good friends, three good wives, two wonderful daughters, eight grand kids and two little grand babies. I was also endowed with a little something extra in the trumpet department that allowed me to rub elbows and share the bandstand with some of the country's great jazz players. And in retrospect, I've enjoyed a really nice big bite of that delicious apple. Sometimes, that bite was a little more than just a mouthful and yes, I often had to struggle to get it down, but down it went with no regrets.

Carl Fontana of Hal McIntyre's band.

My first nibble was in 1948 as a High School senior when I won a national talent competition in Orlando, Florida. It was the Horace Heidt show. What a grand feeling it was sitting on the train a month later, headed for the quarter finals in Chicago with my trumpet by my side. A week later, I was back on that train headed home after coming in second to a 300 pound Irish tenor. I also had $250 in my pocket and a chance to see Lester Young at the Blue Note. It didn't get any better than that for this 18 year old. The following year, during my Freshman year at the U of Alabama, I got a call to join the Horace Heidt Musical Knights in New Orleans. It was definitely an opportunity for another mini bite of that apple with a gig that paid $175 a week and eventual residence in LA. I left school, took the shot, but, wasn't a great sight reader and not ready for that gig, fortunately, as the Korean War broke out and it was stay in school or get drafted, no thanks!

After graduation in 1953, I worked the summer in Myrtle Beach with a house band playing piano for shows on the Pier, then on to Biloxi with a trio working at an Air Force base. On a night off, Bill Payton, the drummer, and I went to New Orleans to hear Hal McIntyre's band at the Blue Room in the Roosevelt Hotel. Bill knew Carl Fontana, who was on the band and Carl introduced me to Mac. When Mac found out I was a trumpet player, he said, "got your ax", I answered, "of course", and I sat in. As it turned out, a trumpet player was leaving that night and he offered me the gig. Here was a big red apple and a big, big bite to take for yours truly. The only problem was that I had to get on the bus that night. I had my belongings with me and all I had to do was blow off my current gig, which for sure wasn't really cool! But, getting on one of these bands was near impossible, so, I ultimately opted to make one Bill Reiley a pretty pissed off band leader.

The band was a blast, everyone could really play and swing. We played “one nighters” at country clubs and private dances with a lot of after hour jams in various towns around the country. There were also regular gigs at certain hotels like the Peabody Hotel in Memphis, TN, which unfortunately was where I was escorted from the bandstand to the 3rd Army Induction Center after dodging my draft notice for too many weeks on the road. The letter would come, it would be on the piano with the rest of the band mail, and that's where it remained unopened when I left the gig. I had about 4 months on the band when the inevitable came in December of 1954.

I was indeed not happy about my plight. Not only was I deprived of being on a killer band, I also felt unjustly denied an important opportunity to learn and grow musically. In my mind, it was going to be another two wasted years spent in the Atlanta Georgia wastelands. Little did I realize that another giant apple was soon to be on the table pour moi! I was in my second eight weeks of basic training, when some gruffy corporal came into my barracks barking, "is there a Thomas in here", I raised my hand and he said, "get in the jeep, the CO want's to see you". Moments later, I snapped a smart salute to a young Captain as he said, "at ease soldier, are you that trumpet player who just got off the road with a band?” I responded, "yes sir that would be me", Turning around and heading out the door, he muttered, "OK get your gear, you're headed to the 3rd Army HQ Band in Atlanta in 30 minutes."

Later that afternoon, I was in my new barracks and I heard the mother load of jazz coming from the next building. When I entered the room, there were a dozen or so cats with horns and a rhythm section, Wynton Kelly, piano, George Joiner, aka, Jamil Nassar, bass and Dick Fisher drummer, all members of the Special Service Unit attached to the 3rd Army band. Also in that unit was Duke Pearson arranger, Louis Smith trumpet and Silly Willie Wilson, trombone. They told me to go get my horn, I did and when I returned to play another delicious golden apple was there before me, and bite I did! I might add a note of interest, the First Sergeant of that Special Service unit was Leonard Nemoi, aka Dr. Spock.

Wynton Kelly

Saying things were great was putting it mildly, these were circumstances that any aspiring jazz musician could only dream about. And it got even better. As bandsman, my duties were to play in the 3rd Army Radio band that broadcast once a week. We rehearsed 3 hours every morning and pretty much had afternoons for personal development, like shedding the charts and practicing. The band's rhythm section wasn't too shabby and we jammed every minute we could. We also had to play for parades, full dress formations for the General or anything else official that needed music. Keeping stuff tidy and inspections were the only real nuisance.

Dinah Washington

I'm spending some extra time on this particular period of my life as it played an extremely significant part in much of my later success in the jazz world, especially my credibility with the brothers in NYC. When Wynton said I was cool, I was in! The apple doesn't get any better than that! Another anomaly happened in the Atlanta Hood when the Waluhaje Hotel, opened in 1951 for business people that didn't like to be segregated. Chief Aiken, owner and entrepreneur, loved jazz and he loved Wynton, inviting him to put something together for weekends in the hotel's night club.

When Wynton was drafted, he was working with Dizzy Gillespie's band, married to Dinah Washington and knew everyone, especially the cats who weren't working. Chief set it up where Wynton could bring anyone he wanted to the Waluhaje with all expenses paid, and a small stipend to take home. I was also invited to be part of the house band. Our first weekend line up was, Charlie Rouse on tenor and Benny Green on trombone. Next week was Paul Chambers, bass and as I remember, drummer Art Taylor. Dinah was even there for an entire week and what a week that was. One of my most memorable moments was when she grabbed me after a solo and said, "you sure got some soul for a white boy", and so it went from week to week for several months until Wynton got out the Army and left Atlanta. There were other great session in Atlanta every week, as well.

As you can see, I had my mouth full of that apple for almost every minute I was there. It was never quite the same after Wynton left, however his replacement was the amazing Phineas Newborn. We soon became great friends and used to play for hours in the practice room together. We later spent time together in NYC. After Wynton left, I had about 6 months to serve, which went reasonably well, thanks to a lot of time spent with playing with Phineas. The Waluhaje, unfortunately had some racial issues and the incredible jazz scene that had been nurturing the Atlanta community was permanently discontinued for the remainder of the time I was there. Stay tuned for Part II.