JAM: February/March 2002 Issue: In Praise of A Random Act of Kindness

In Praise of A Random Act of Kindness

by John Leisenring

We often read about jazz artists and their remarkable musical prowess, their overpowering technique, range and strength. We do not often read about their humanity, their care and concern for others, especially their concern for anonymous fans whom they meet in unexpected places and/or situations. I offer the following as evidence of the care and concern that trombonist Slide Hampton offers his fans.

In the summer of 1981, I was in New York City and was present for a performance of the Slide Hampton Quartet at the Sheridan Central Hotel in mid-Manhattan. I was at the time studying with Slide as a part of a National Endowment for the Arts Study Grant, and he and I had spent the day practicing and working out together. As was my habit when in New York, I planned to spend the evening listening to Slide and his band; but this night was extra-special in that Joe Williams was performing a reunion concert with the Count Basie Band at the Village Gate, with the last set beginning at 1:00 a.m. Slide's night at the Sheridan Central ended at midnight, and I intended to hear both shows before catching a 7:00 a.m. flight back to Kansas City.

Slide Hampton

It was a good hour before the first Hampton set was to begin, and his gear was stowed in his dressing room. Slide and I were standing near the entrance to the club, he in his three piece suit, when a youngish women excused herself and asked if this was the room in which the Slide Hampton Quartet was to perform. Slide, with a twinkle in his eye, for she obviously did not recognize him, informed her that she was indeed in the right place and offered to seat her. He bypassed the ticket seller, took her to the table centered just below the stage, and she and I took seats there as Slide left to prepare for the evening's music.

What I knew, and the lady (I can't remember her name, and I'm not sure she ever did give her last name) did not know, was that Slide always reserved his personal table stage center for his friends and acquaintances, and for which he always picked up the tab. Before the music began, we were to be joined by trombonist Steve Turre (long before his name became associated with bebop conch shells) and Lewis Van Haney who at the time was principal trombonist with the New York Philharmonic. During the minutes before showtime, it was established that the lady Slide had impulsively seated was a junior high school teacher from New Jersey, who loved jazz but had no one to accompany her to clubs and jazz joints. She felt safe going alone to jazz rooms in major hotels, she told us, and so she had traveled by bus and taxi to the Sheridan in hopes of hearing Slide Hampton play.

The band started to assemble, tune up and prepare for the evening, and when Slide made his appearance, our companion of course learned who her host was, and was thrilled. She listened in rapt attention as set after set unfolded, and when midnight arrived, and the gig was over, she couldn't thank Slide enough -- indeed, all of us -- for one of the best musical nights she could remember enjoying.

I was in a hurry to get a cab and get downtown to the Village Gate and the Count Basie/Joe Williams set. I thanked Slide for a great day and told him of my plans for the rest of the night. He had not realized Basie's last set started so late, and since he hadn't seen the guys for a long while, he decided to accompany me. I went to find a cab while he put his gear away.

"You should come with us," said Slide to our lady companion.

"It's too late," she said. "I've got to get to the bus station before the last bus leaves."

Slide and I both implored her to continue this best of all jazz nights, and after some hesitation and watch-checking, she agreed.

The three of us got a cab, and when we arrived at the Village Gate, the crowd for the 1:00 a.m. set was lined up clear around the block, with the band members all out in the street on break. Many had not seen Slide for some months; there were many hugs and warm greetings all around.

"I need to get my tickets," said Slide, at which point the band guys announced that the set had been sold out for weeks.

"If you want to see the show, you'll have to come with us through the kitchen," someone said.

Down the steps in a ratty kitchen area sat Count Basie and numerous of his entourage. Basie knew me from several years before when my employer the University of Missouri at Kansas City had awarded him an honorary Doctorate. He greeted me and Slide with equal warmth. Joe Williams was sitting there, too, and our lady friend stood wide-eyed as she was introduced all around.

We climbed the back stairs to the club and, with no empty seats available, stood at the bar and listened as the band, with Joe, played from 1:30 until almost 4:00. A great many musicians had come down after their gigs were over, and the band was truly showing off before company. I had never heard the Basie band play as well as they did that night, nor have I since. Basie was not yet in ill health, not yet confined to a wheelchair as he soon would be, and the band was at the top of their game. Joe Williams, for his part, sang with a gusto reserved for special occasions as he hauled out every blues lyric he knew while undoubtedly making up some new ones.

It was a major musical experience. And our school teacher friend got to experience it all up close and personal.

Then it was time for breakfast, as Slide and many of the band were off for eggs and coffee. I had just enough time to get to LaGuardia and my flight home, and though our lady friend was warmly invited to breakfast, she opted to ride my cab to the bus station and take the first bus back to New Jersey.

When we arrived at the bus station, she was aglow. I helped her out and she said with great seriousness that no one would ever know of this night's experience.

"I simply can't tell anyone about this," she said. "No one would ever believe it actually happened!"

And she strode with great purpose to the ticket window and to the bus to New Jersey.

I have often wondered who the lady was and how she remembers that night. It seems unlikely that she has had so full an experience since, and all the thanks goes to Slide Hampton. He could have brushed her off, as some musicians would have done, but he took her under his wing and gave her the most fabulous experience he could. He bought her drinks, her taxi, and saw to it that she had free admission to both events, even though he had never met her before that night.

I have been with Slide often since that long ago night, and we have continued our friendship whenever possible. He remains the consummate gentleman, always eager to share of himself with his fellow musicians. And he remains on the lookout for fans of the music with whom he can share as well.

Ed. Note: Slide Hampton will be appearing as a guest artist at UMKC's annual Conservatory Jazz Festival, April 12-13. For tickets call the Central Ticket Office at 816-235-6222.

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