Fwd: [Dixielandjazz] A New Orleans story, circa 1950s

[Charlie Hooks]

> Beautiful, Charlie!  Thanks so much!
Charlie Hooks


>
> This short memory piece appears in edited form in the current (July) 
> issue of The Sun. I tried to get into how it felt at the time to 
> worship at the altars of jazz and Our Lady Star of the Sea Church .
>
> Charlie Suhor
>
>
> FISHERMEN’S MASS
>
> My teenage years in a strict Catholic home in New Orleans in the 
> 1950s would have been pretty sheltered if it hadn’t been for music 
> gigs on Saturday nights. Sitting behind the drums at sleazy bars, 
> country club dances, wedding receptions, neighborhood dance halls, 
> debutante parties, and what-not else, I got a wide view of the 
> social spectrum, unguarded and at play, that wouldn’t have been 
> accessible otherwise.
>
> After those unchained evenings, many young musicians congregated at 
> what was called the “Fishermen’s Mass” at 3 a.m. at Our Lady Star of 
> the Sea Church on St. Roch Avenue. It started out as a service for 
> early rising fishermen and hunters, but it became fashionable for 
> Catholics who were out late to “make Mass” at the ungodly hour. So 
> the sportsmen were totally outnumbered by musicians, partygoers, and 
> night-clubbers.
>
>  It was great fun after a Saturday night gig to go for a sandwich at 
> L’Enfant's, or Martin Brothers, then meet other musicians on the 
> steps of the church before Mass.
>
>  “Where’d you play tonight, man?”
>
> “Buzzards Hall on Annunciation Street. Angelo played guitar. Played 
> his ass off.”
>
> “Yeah, we played a dance at the Roosevelt. Mostly stocks, no 
> jamming.”
>
> We had a gently patronizing scorn for the nightclubbers and 
> promgoers. Many showed up in tuxes and gowns, bleary-eyed and 
> foot-dragging, unaccustomed to the wee hours but intent on being 
> seen at the hippest Mass outside of St. Louis Cathedral.
>
> Our Lady Star of the Sea was a cavernously large church, so the odd 
> assemblage of attendees looked like lonesome pilgrims scattered 
> among the pews. The priest’s Latin mumblings took on an eerie sound, 
> echoing solemnly in the sepulchral silence of morning. Sermons were 
> short and dull, in line with the borderline comatose atmosphere. Few 
> went to communion. In those days, abstaining after midnight from all 
> food and drink, even water, was required. Those who took communion 
> were seen as heroically devoted by those aware enough to take notice.
>
> Almost every week, though, there was a shock of awakening that broke 
> the mood and evoked irrepressible giggles. To understand this, you 
> have to get the picture. The proper kneeling position in a pew is 
> knees on the raised wooden platform, spine straight, forearms 
> resting on the back of the pew in front of you, hands together in 
> prayer. Every Catholic, though, knew the improper fallback posture. 
> When you’re tired, your back hunches and your butt slips back to the 
> seat, taking pressure off of your knees. It’s an ungraceful slump, 
> and not really comfortable, but at 3 a.m. it’s a real option.
>
> And a real problem, if you’ve been drinking since 8 p.m.  A 
> thundering WHACK!would break the silence as someone in the halfway 
> position nodded off, his head hitting the pew in front of him, smack 
> between his forearms.
>
> We joked a lot about the comic relief, but the Fisherman’s Mass 
> appealed to me deeply. The after-image of jazz, dancing, and po-boys 
> merged pleasantly with the deep-night tranquility of the 3 a.m. 
> service. It was confusing yet invigorating to be part jazz musician 
> and part Trappist. My grab-bag of heroes as a teenager included 
> Louis Armstrong, Thomas Merton, Jacques Maritain, and Max Roach. I 
> couldn’t put it all together then, but by the time I left the 
> Catholic Church I knew that the Saturday night music, camaraderie, 
> and Mass were spiritual celebrations, different faces of what had 
> been misidentified as the uptight God of my Catechism book.
>
>  
>
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>
________________________________________________________
"When government tries to prevent evil it works best.  It's when 
government tries to do good that it works worst."--Nick Opperman