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About one month ago, a winter storm knocked down the high power lines right behind my detached garage where my listening room is located. Scared the crap out of my wife because there was an incredibly loud 60 Hz noise (like the proverbial train engine that people always use to describe tornados) and bright flashing of the arc. It caused a fire on the ground that was put out by the fire department. Power was restored about 8 hours later.
I thought the problem was over until this weekend when I turned on the TV in the listening room and had no signal. The cable guy came out and found out that the fire had melted the cable. Needless to say I don't watch a lot of TV.
Anyway, the cable guy came up to the listening room and heard the setup (playing some Charles Mingus at the time). He said he is the only one in his family that doesn't have musical talent but his grandfather is a pretty well known musician. That was a bit of an understatement -- his grandfather is Fats Domino. Holy shit!!
Apparently Fats spent a good deal of time in Richmond and also along the Maryland Eastern shore and the Baltimore area. His wife lived in an area on the Eastern shore called "Blueberry Hill". The cable guy also told me that one time his grandmother got mad at Fats and locked him out of the house - hence "I hear you knockin' but you can't come in". Fats did not make a lot of money on royalties (typical of many Black artists in the 50's) and made most of his money by travelling and doing gigs. The song "Rose Mary" was to his wife Rosemary. Really cool.
Edits: 03/10/15 03/10/15Follow Ups:
And like Robss said, "real life is stranger than fiction" at times.In my school and early college years, because of the intrisic classical music environment, I often found myself meeting some well-known figures of internatinal fame. Typically, classical music performers...not exactly pop culture personalities. Still, I always shy away from name-dropping. I'll make an exception, for it may not be a big deal.
A funny incident happened when I was already working, as an advertising manager for a large national company, in the 80's. That day I had scheduled a meeting at our advertising agency for late in the afternoon. After this, I was to pick up my wife and head for a live performance of "Evita". Paloma San Basilio, whom I had never met or heard live, and other famed performers, were to do the honors that evening.
The morning began the wrong way. My new company car broke down on my way to work. They towed it away and drove me home, no loaners available. I picked up my oldish, but well-kept, Dodge Colt station wagon. After a late lunch, I went to pick up the "Evita" tickets before heading for the advertising agency. While parked at the concert hall's parking, someone bumped his car into the rear and cracked a tail light on my car. Bummer! What an ugly scar it was, and the car would have to take us back to the place in the evening! Luckily, the light still worked.
So, on to the advertising agency I went. The meeting ran long, almost to 6p! I was beginning to worry about the rush hour traffic. Just as I was thinking about this, the head of the local JWT advertising agency walked in and asked me for help with something. One of their clients was going to be late to an important engagement, her manager trapped in heavy traffic. Would I mind driving Paloma San Basilio to the concert hall on my way out?
My wife never forgave me for not picking her up on the way. She did have a major laugh at my predicament. Of all the days, THIS was the one when the new car chose to break down and the old one got ugly damage!
Edits: 03/12/15 03/12/15
He wouldn't take his check - didn't know who he was.
So Chuck came back with a bunch of his records. I remember the night my dad brought those records home.
"Familiarity breeds contempt, and children."
-Mark Twain
Simply awesome who we run into, and their past in the musical world.
My story:
Only until I *finally* got into the high end of audio and started playing real jazz - like Fats, and Dave Brubeck - did I find out from my dad that he actually got to lead out Dave on piano (while my dad was on his sax) one time when he was just a student. My dad always seemed to have a lot of saxs and other horns in one closet when I was young but he never really told us kids just why. [The very rare times when he played he would cry afterward.] He took jazz/sax when in high school from Dave's older brother (Dwayne?). Dave stopped by one day to see his brother's class wearing wool army gloves cut off at the fingers. When he played he kept those gloves on. This was around 1947 or so. My dad was into the jazz scene (jazz combo of his own, and going to Coleman Hawkins concerts and all while in high school) until he was accepted into Pharm. school at Univ. of Colorado. Music and jazz ended then, and then he met my mom soon after that and really headed off into another direction (25+ years at Parke Davis and Co., Detroit as a Director/manager).
My dad mentioned out of the blue the very first time he heard my "first" high end system (c. 2004) "... I really wonder just where I would be today if I had still been with jazz..."
Finally, one of the last times my parents were able to fly they ran into Dave and his wife who were on the same flight back home to CA. Dave mentioned "nice to see you again" to my dad after a brief chat. Real life is stranger than fiction.
Happy Listening,
robss
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