[Dixielandjazz] The Yellow Dog & "His" Blues

[Steve barbone]

>From my pal drummer Dick Sherman.

Cheers,
Steve Barbone

Last Tuesday evening marked the opening of the "Constitution Jazz Band's"
eleventh summer season playing Dixieland at the Kismet Inn on Fire Island. I
succeeded Johnny Blowers in the drum chair seven years ago and have been
drumming with this group every summer since then. It's a fine band. It
swings, and the happy feedback from the audience makes it unfailingly joyful
to perform at the Kismet Inn, my all-time favorite waterfront saloon.

The band features Peter Ecklund (cornet), Jerry Cohen (trombone), Artie
Miller (clarinet), Wayne Sabella, (Piano), Dick Plotka (banjo), Frank Hansen
(bass),and me on drums. Together, we constitute the "Constitution Jazz
Band."

>From time to time musicians get to witness unlikely incidents on their gigs.
These seem to arise most often late at night--especially at the time of the
full moon. One of these events took place while we were playing at the
Kismet Inn late last Tuesday evening. It was the kind of thing that happens
only when the band is swinging and the audience is "with it." And when the
planets are in perfect alignment.

The band was wailing at the Inn last Tuesday night. Three quarters of the
way through the gig, a pleasantly mellow patron swayed onto the dance floor
in front of our bandstand, leading a large yellow dog about half the size of
a Great Dane. This mustard-colored mongrel was as mellow as his master. This
duo proceeded to a chair in front of the bandstand where the patron hoisted
his pet contentedly onto his lap, strategically positioned to enjoy our
music at close range.

Dick Plotka, our leader, was about to count off a tune. But I interrupted
him at the arrival of the patron and his honey-hued pet, pointing at the dog
and calling for a tune appropriate to the occasion, such as "Yellow Dog
Blues." Plotka, always quick on the uptake, obliged, dedicating our next
tune to our four-legged furry fan in the front row seat.

Not to be outdone by this gesture, the patron arose and stood behind the
chair, putting his arms around "Fido" (I never learned his name) from the
rear, lacing his fingers across the doggie's tummy, and supporting him in a
sitting-up position, facing the band.

Instantly, upon hearing the opening bars of the best rendition we'd ever
played of this old tune, the dog "lit up."  His ears pricked up and he
seemed to be flashing a lopsided canine grin. He couldn't manage to wag his
tail along with the beat, because he was sitting on it. But he wanted to!
There he sat like an enraptured jazz fan "transported" by the syncopation.
Remarkably, he remained sitting upright in that position throughout the
number, waving his paws along with the beat and "smiling" joyously.

The audience went wild, encircling the patron and his pet, pressing closer
for a better view of their antics. Larry, the Inn's congenial owner, spotted
the gathering throng and raced to the dance floor, arriving just in time to
admire "Fido" soaking up the syncopation and the audience adulation at the
same time. He also noted that many dancers deserted the floor to give the
mutt and his master exclusive rights to the "limelight."

Shortly afterward, our celebrated canine star and his master disappeared
into the crowd, not to be seen again. Theirs had been a "one time only"
performance. But,  for me, it was one that gave new meaning  to the
well-worn, timeless description of a Dixieland devotee as a "jazz hound."

This was one of those "You had to be there" stories, but I couldn't resist
sending it to you. I hope you liked it!

Dick