Posted by (+3882) 8 years ago
I had an attack of melancholy, today. It oddly took me on a circuitous route back to Miles City.
The beginning started innocently enough. I was listening to jazz, this morning which started me thinking of Chet Baker. While reading his tragic biography, I began to miss my friend Jeff LeMay. I remember how goddamned mad I was at his passing and the path he took to his tragic end. I thought about how much I enjoyed his company, his music and how powerless I was to derail his destructive journey to the grave.
While reading Chet's bio, I was listening to Coltrane which made me remember the delightful time I spent with Eric Thomas. My melancholy turned to the gift Eric's mother, Johnnie Lockett Thomas, gave this cowtown called Miles City. Her gift of sophistication, beauty, grace and honesty. Her very presence was a trial for some of the locals but Johnnie's intelligence and tenacity would remain steadfast. I had the singular experience of meeting her family. First, when Eric arrived with a bunch of north eastern Jazz musicians. They were a breath of fresh air when they played world class jazz at Miles City Books and News and at the annual fund raiser for the Water Plant Art and Heritage Center.
Joe Whalen, the heart of Miles City, suffered arrhythmia when Miles City Books and News closed.
"Miles City Books and News" was never destined to be a fortune 500 business but I can close my eyes and remember a moment in time. A moment when a salon raised questions and discussed solutions, A moment when local musicians, writers, artists and poets had a place to express themselves. A moment when a long forgotten Independence Day parade was resurrected. A moment when a change in local politics seemed possible.
Great Grains has sold, Kafe Utza is gone. Elsie Fox, I miss you, comrade. Johnnie, I never did did get to photograph your beautiful hands. Jeff is still dead. I am still pissed and every time I play "Cakewalk into Town" with my new people it's just not the same but then again, what is? BTW, I still can't tolerate the banjo and I won't apologize for that, even if Rick Strohmeyer was still alive.
The beginning started innocently enough. I was listening to jazz, this morning which started me thinking of Chet Baker. While reading his tragic biography, I began to miss my friend Jeff LeMay. I remember how goddamned mad I was at his passing and the path he took to his tragic end. I thought about how much I enjoyed his company, his music and how powerless I was to derail his destructive journey to the grave.
While reading Chet's bio, I was listening to Coltrane which made me remember the delightful time I spent with Eric Thomas. My melancholy turned to the gift Eric's mother, Johnnie Lockett Thomas, gave this cowtown called Miles City. Her gift of sophistication, beauty, grace and honesty. Her very presence was a trial for some of the locals but Johnnie's intelligence and tenacity would remain steadfast. I had the singular experience of meeting her family. First, when Eric arrived with a bunch of north eastern Jazz musicians. They were a breath of fresh air when they played world class jazz at Miles City Books and News and at the annual fund raiser for the Water Plant Art and Heritage Center.
Joe Whalen, the heart of Miles City, suffered arrhythmia when Miles City Books and News closed.
"Miles City Books and News" was never destined to be a fortune 500 business but I can close my eyes and remember a moment in time. A moment when a salon raised questions and discussed solutions, A moment when local musicians, writers, artists and poets had a place to express themselves. A moment when a long forgotten Independence Day parade was resurrected. A moment when a change in local politics seemed possible.
Great Grains has sold, Kafe Utza is gone. Elsie Fox, I miss you, comrade. Johnnie, I never did did get to photograph your beautiful hands. Jeff is still dead. I am still pissed and every time I play "Cakewalk into Town" with my new people it's just not the same but then again, what is? BTW, I still can't tolerate the banjo and I won't apologize for that, even if Rick Strohmeyer was still alive.