Keeping the Beat on the Street Page 3

  Danny Barker’s name crops up in many of the interviews in this book as someone who would encourage anyone who, in his estimation, was helping the cause of New Orleans music. It’s this kind of activity rather than his earlier distinguished career as a musician that ensured his iconic status in the city today.

  Unlike many of the musicians of his generation, he was staunchly supportive of the newer sounds created by the younger brass bands. Emile Martyn remembers just how supportive He explained to me:

  Fairview Baptist Church

  Photo by Barry Martyn

  I remember being with Danny Barker in Jackson Square, walking towards the river. I’d been playing in the afternoon with Tuba Fats. There was an English trombone player with us, and he was running down what he called the “modern music” played by “kids”; this would have been in 1985.

  Danny sort of jumped on him; he wouldn’t suffer fools gladly! He took off his hat and laid down his jacket and briefcase, as though he was stripping down for a fight. He said that he himself had a lot to do with the young bands—he didn’t ever use the word “kids.” He mentioned that he’d had a place where they all came and played, and he’d started them off on the road.

  Danny said, “You don’t realize, you guys that come here. The music changes, and these youngsters want to play something that belongs to today. They’re playing the traditional tunes, but they’re tightening them up.

  “Everything’s getting condensed. The drums are getting a tighter sound— they’re tuning the snares tighter—it’s more staccato. Modern influences and recording techniques mean they’re after a cleaner sound, with a distinct beginning and end.” He talked about the way the young bands dressed, T-shirts and baseball caps. They didn’t want to be up there in black and white because for them, that was the past.

  Danny was extremely aware of all that, and he was very defensive of young bands.

  In 1973, Al Torregano, proprietor of the Jive Record Shop on North Claiborne, published Jive, a weekly newsletter. The issue of June 22 carried the following article on the Fairview band.

  WHAT IS THE PARADE FOR?

  Booooom, booooom.

  Here comes the parade.

  “What’s the parade for?”

  “What does it matter? Let’s get in the second line and have some fun.”

  And so it goes. In New Orleans everybody loves a parade. We parade for Santa Claus, St. Patrick, Carnival, the Heart Fund, the Cancer Society, Spring Fiesta, funerals, and just about any other excuse we can think of. And no parade would be complete without one or two jazz marching bands.

  Onward. Olympia. Eureka. Tuxedo. Immortal names in New Orleans. Marching bands unique to the Crescent City. Each band has been heaped with honors from coast to coast as well as at home. Each band is famous in its own right.

  But have you heard about the Fairview Baptist Church Christian Band? No. Well, it’s time you were told.

  “The Fairview Baptist Church Christian Band is a marching band made up of 26 youngsters between the ages of nine and eighteen,” explains Danny Barker, the band’s organizer and a fine jazz musician in his own right. “We play all of the old jazz classics; we march in parades; we are good, and I don’t mind bragging a little bit.”

  Started more than a year ago, the band is now in such demand that it rarely misses a street parade. “My people have always loved music,” says Barker. “Most of us are born with the ‘Baptist beat’—the rhythm of the good old Christian songs like A Closer Walk with Thee. We don’t have to be taught a bunch of fancy stuff to be able to play an instrument. We go around with the melodies in our heads from the time we are just little folks and by the time we get our hands on an instrument and somebody shows us a thing or two, we are ready to play.”

  Leroy Jones Jr., a bright 14-year-old lad, did just that. His parents gave him a trumpet and before long he was blowing away like a junior Gabriel. He invited some of his friends over with their instruments and the Jones’ garage on St. Denis Street was turned into a rehearsal hall.

  “I used to walk down the street and listen to Leroy and his friends playing rock music,” Barker explains, “and I got to thinking that they should be playing jazz.” Barker spoke to Reverend Andrew Darby Jr., pastor of his church, Fairview Baptist, and they came up with the idea of trying to get the young people of the community interested in a Christian band. “Reverend Darby was very concerned about getting the youth in our community involved in worthwhile projects,” Barker says.

  Leroy liked the idea of forming a marching band. He talked to his friends and before long Barker had a dozen recruits. “We thought it was pretty great that he had Baptists, Catholics, Lutherans, Seven Day Adventists, and Holy Rollers playing in the Fairview Baptist Church Christian Band,” he proudly states. “Gospel jazz music brought all of these young boys together with a single purpose: playing an instrument for a pastime rather than getting involved in some of the street problems of their peers.”

  Barker enlisted the help of Charlie Barbarin Sr., brother of the famous jazz trumpet player, Paul [actually a drummer], who passed away a few years ago. Barbarin, an able trumpet player himself, brought along his two young sons and became director of the band.

  Leroy’s parents agreed to allow the band to use their garage for practice; Reverend Darby cooperated by providing the church bus for transportation; Barbarin turned out to be a dynamic director; Barker took care of all the details; the boys supplied the music. The band began practicing each Monday night for three hours and soon invitations for personal appearances began to pour in.

  “We just believed in the youngsters,” says Barker. “We considered the band a self-help program where young boys could learn to do something for themselves; they could learn to follow directions; they could work towards a positive goal.”

  The group has played for both the 1971 and 1972 Jazz and Heritage Festival, and the Rag Time Jazz Festival in Washington, D.C. “We were also invited to play at the Celebration of Life, the Rock Festival in Pointe Coupee Parish,” says Barker. “However, that was quite a mistake. When the band got there and saw all of the naked and half-naked people roaming around, their eyes nearly popped out of their heads and they scattered and ran down to the river to get a better look. We had a time getting them back together and out of the place.”

  One of the recent engagements the band especially enjoyed was playing for Mrs. Lucille Armstrong, the wife of the famous trumpeter Louis Armstrong, during her recent visit to Milne Boys Home. Mrs. Armstrong was in town to dedicate a portrait of her famous husband; the Fairview Band was on hand to provide the music for the occasion.

  It was the second visit to the Home for the young band. When the group first started they went over to play at Milne, and the boys at the Home decided that they would also love to have a band. Now Milne also has a promising young jazz band.

  The fame of the young Fairview band is spreading fast. Floyd Levin, a founder member of California Jazz Club, heard the band during the Jazz Festival and he persuaded his fellow club members to donate enough money to buy more than a dozen instruments for the group and to purchase caps and name bands. Durel Black, founder of the Louisiana Jazz Club and Music Therapy Fund, has also been a big supporter of the band; he has donated money for instruments.

  “Of course, we still need more instruments,” Barker explains. “We have so many young boys that would love to play in the band, but they are from poor families and they just can’t afford an instrument.”

  Isn’t he afraid that he may end up with too many musicians?

  “No, that will never happen. If we get too big for one marching band we will form the second and then the third band. I can’t think of a better way to help a youngster get off to the right start; music can make a difference.

  “We need any new or old instruments we can get. Just call Reverend Darby at 949-4902 if you have an instrument around the house going to waste. I promise you that it will be put to good use.”

  Now when we speak of the fam
ous marching bands, the list will have to read like this: Onward, Olympia, Eureka, Tuxedo, and the Fairview Baptist Church Christian Band.

  Leroy Jones, Trumpet

  BORN: New Orleans, February 20, 1958

  Founding member of the Fairview band; leader of the Hurricane Brass Band and currently of his own quintet

  Interviewed at the Palm Court Cafe, Decatur Street, September 2001

  Courtesy Leroy Lones

  I started playing music at the age of ten in the school band at St. Leo the Great School. I took the cornet, and the flute as my second choice, in case I didn’t like the cornet.

  My first teacher was Sister Mary Hillary, who was a trumpet player and a bandmaster at the school, a parochial school here in New Orleans. I started in the band in the fifth grade. I learned music from a conservatory method. I had lessons. I learned to read at the same time as I learned to play the horn. My parents had rented a used one because there was no point in buying a brand new one; if I hadn’t been interested, they’d have wasted their money. Anyway, within three months, I had developed an embouchure, and my teacher had noticed I had a very good ear and a higher musical aptitude than a lot of the other kids who were my contemporaries. So my teacher suggested that my parents should buy me a new horn at the end of the year. The teacher noticed that when I was warming up, and when I was in the fifth grade, I was reading music at an eighth-grade level, so she knew I had some musical talent. My parents weren’t musicians, so they couldn’t determine that for themselves. The only other musician in my family was a cousin of mine who played trombone, not professionally but in the Fairview band, but we’ll get to that later.

  I also had a girl cousin who played the clarinet all through college; she was more classically trained. To this day, she can’t play by ear to save her soul, and she can’t understand how I do it. I don’t understand it either. It’s not something you think about, you know? But fortunately, I read as well, so I’m not limited to just one situation.

  At twelve years old, my family moved from our old address on Buchanan Street to 1316 St. Denis Street. It was approximately sixty yards from the Fairview Baptist Church. I was raised Catholic, but I was influenced heavily by the Baptist tradition and hearing gospel and so forth because of the music at Fairview Church. Eventually, I met Danny Barker, who lived just around the corner from my house. Also, Ernie Cagnolatti, and Dave “Fat Man” Williams lived just nearby. I grew up with Cag’s grandkids. And the neighborhood was full of youngsters that played in school bands, unlike today, when the music programs are a bit slack.

  It was much better in the late sixties and into the seventies. It’s like, the bands that played Dixieland and the traditional jazz on Bourbon Street sort of diminished going into the eighties, long before I ever went there. I’ve spoken to some of the older musicians, and they told me how vibrant the street was with bands in those days. I even caught the tail end of that, playing at a club that had three bands a night—in fact, most of the clubs had three bands a night. Anyway, I first met Danny Barker in 1971.

  I used to practice in my garage for five hours in the evening when I came home from school. At ten, I had to close it. So I’d do my homework and start practicing about five. I’d maybe take a break when my mom would call me in around seven. Otherwise, I’d play until ten. My dog used to howl in the alley when I played my horn—I don’t know if it’s because I sounded good or if I annoyed the hell out of him.

  It didn’t seem hard work: I just loved it so much. I don’t practice that hard today, because I’ve developed a technique that means I don’t have to practice that much to keep my endurance up. But for the first five to ten years of my development, I never practiced less than four hours every day. I would practice out of the Arban method book. I had private lessons at the weekend with Sister Mary Hillary and with a local trumpet player called Dalton Rousseau, also Laurence Winchester, who was one of the instructors at St. Augustine High School, where I went to in 1972.

  I got to meet some local trumpet players through knowing Danny Barker. Some of my favorites were Jack Willis and Teddy Riley and our neighbor Ernie Cagnolatti. And I always loved Louis Cottrell’s clarinet playing. They were all early influences on me, as well as the recordings that I had, or that my parents had—they played a lot of music in the house; they loved it, even though they weren’t musicians.

  They had some Louis Armstrong records, so I heard Louis before I even picked up a musical instrument. I’d been fooling with guitar before I started playing a wind instrument—I played the guitar for maybe ten years, which overlapped with the time I was playing cornet. I’m pretty much a self-taught guitarist—I never worked as a guitar player. I’d practice fingering and chord charts; then I’d do things on the horn. So I developed an understanding of harmony. I studied harmony a bit more, much later.

  That neighborhood I grew up in was just so rich with music, just in that one-block radius. I never heard Jack Willis before he had his stroke, but I can imagine how great he was when he had all his faculties, because he still sounded great when I heard him. He remembered me as a little fellow, because we did things with Danny and the Fairview band when we traveled out of town and we were the youngsters.

  The Fairview band was the brainchild of Reverend Andrew Darby and Danny Barker. Reverend Darby wanted to start a youth group for the Fairview Church. Danny and Blue Lou were members of the church. Of course, the pastor and congregation knew that Danny was a musician and Lou was a singer. So the pastor asked if they could involve some young musicians. Danny used to drive around the neighborhood—I’d often see him. I’d have the garage door open when I would be practicing. Or I’d have some friends with me that played in the school band.

  There was a young man called Ronald Evans who played baritone. He’s the nephew of Chuck Carbo, the singer. They lived nearby. Ronald used to practice with me and a drummer by the name of Raymond Johnson—we called him “Puppy.” We used to get in there and jam. My parent’s old stereo was in the garage, and we had LPs and 45s—even the odd 78. I used to buy them on the corner from Miss Wheeler, who was a friend of the family. We’d play along with the records. When I’d come back from my lesson, I’d go through the book—lesson 1, lesson 2—which I hated. I much more enjoyed sitting trying to emulate Louis Armstrong or Freddie Hubbard or Jack Willis or Shorty Rodgers—any instrumentalist. It didn’t have to be trumpet players; I was trying to play everything I heard.

  Anyway, Danny got out of his car one day and came up and introduced himself. I was pleased to meet him and quite flattered as well. He told me they had a plan to start a brass band. It was referred to as a youth group, and it was something to keep the neighborhood kids off the street. Because some of my peers were, I’d have to say, “bad boys”—through no fault of their own, they just weren’t as fortunate as I was to have parents who really cared for them. So the Fairview band started, with mainly neighborhood kids. There were the Mimms brothers, Thomas and Gene. Thomas is a doctor now; I don’t know what Gene’s doing. I haven’t seen those guys in years. They don’t play music anymore.

  Derek Cagnolatti, Ernie’s grandson, was a member. He played alto saxophone. And there was Daryl Wilkinson on alto saxophone who lived next door. He was a little older than the rest of us, in his mid teens. And Raymond Johnson, “Puppy,” was four years older than I. My cousin Isaac Banks, trombone player, we pulled him into the band. Harry Sterling—he’s now the guitar player with Big Al Carson—back then, he played sousaphone as well as guitar and banjo. There was another trumpet player by the name of Morris Carmbs; he was a member of the church. There was also a young man by the name of Gary Proctor. He played trumpet. There was a kid called Nasser Adams. A tuba player called Stephen Parker was there in the beginning. Also Gregg Stafford, who came in on trumpet not long after, maybe a month after the band was formed. Mr. Barker had been working with Gregg. He’s a little older than I am, so he was already on the scene in the French Quarter and so forth. When Danny pulled Gregg, Gregg pulled Tuba Fats
. Joe Torregano joined us, and Herlin Riley played trumpet in those days. His mom used to drop him off at my house for rehearsals.

  We had a guy called Ray Paisant—he’s a Creole guy—he was kin to the Barbarins. That’s how I met Lucien and Charles Barbarin. When Mr. Barker brought them into the band, Lucien was playing snare drum in those days. Greg Davis came in later, just before the band broke up.

  At one point the Fairview band was almost thirty members. We had enough musicians to do three gigs on the same day in different places, and sometimes that’s just what we did. Big Al Carson came into the band, as well as Stephen Parker and Tuba Fats, so we had three tuba players. We had maybe six trumpets. We had clarinets. There was a guy called “Dusty.” I can’t remember his right name—he was at school with Lucien—he played E-flat clarinet. Daryl Adams played alto sax. So we’d split the band up, because it was just too much sound. Work mainly came through word of mouth. Gregg Stafford would pull people in, like Michael Myers on trombone. He’s dead now; he committed suicide in the eighties. He was from uptown, like Gregg. The rest of us were from downtown.