epub or mobi
St. Loo. What a
dizzying whirligig that town was: the bootlegging dives along the river
section; the "Buffet Flats" all over, the sharpies in their
box-backed coats and shoes called "Mississippi Flats." The mobs
controlled everything illegitimate. Whores and pimps everywhere, bum liquor,
marijuana - everything was cheap and you grew into manhood using these things. The
most glamorous people in that town were the musicians, sharp gentlemen whose
travels brought them frequently to St. Loo, for the town was loaded with
suckers who wanted to spend money on pleasure - and their music was that. How
often he had stood in the morning, not having slept all night because of
blowing down in the park, and watched the cats come and go at the "spook
breakfasts" at the club: Pres, Basie, Lunceford, Mary Lou, Harlan Jackson,
McShann, Lee Jones - the whole goddamn bunch.
Back in New York,
Richie formed his own combo, fighting against the drivel of Charley Spivak,
Glen Gray, the Dorseys, Kay Kayser, Glenn Miller, and all the rest. Only
Ellington was swinging, but in a different way, he and that sweet-blowing
Johnny Hodges who mauled an alto. 52nd Street on the west side leaped with
clubs and small groups, though Billie said it was a goddamned plantation where
the owners made the money and the musicians slaved. But for Richie it was work.
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