Hank Jones Memorial Service, June 26th 2010

Yesterday, June 26^th, I attended a memorial service at The Abyssinian Baptist church in Harlem for the legendary pianist Hank Jones, who passed on May 16^th.  Congregating in a far corner, close to the pulpit and to a grand piano, were a select group of elder statesmen and legendary jazz musicians which included Dr. Billy Taylor, Jimmy Heath, Frank Wess, Ron Carter, Frank Foster, Barry Harris, and many others. Some spoke about their early meetings with Hank, many of which occurred on 52^nd St. in the mid 1940s, and a favorite bar on 6^th Ave. called The White Rose, (nicknamed “The White Nose” by some) where apparently all of the major players on the scene would hang out, drink, and share tips. Some were so visibly moved by the passing of Mr. Jones, they could barely speak.  The musical performances were beautiful, and several videos were shown of montages depicting various photographs and anecdotes, one of which was regarding the famous Marilyn Monroe performance of “Happy Birthday,” sung to President John F. Kennedy at Madison Square Garden in 1962. Hank, who was her accompanist, recounted that the 16 minute performance required an 8 hour day of rehearsal which was, in his words, “Very trying.”

At one point, the President of The Jazz foundation, Wendy Oxenhorn, spoke about the need to reestablish a culture where people connected to music by going out to hear live performances rather than just using their iPods on the subway. I wonder what Charlie Parker would have thought of the iPod… It is certainly romantic to think about what it must have been like in the 1940s on 52^nd street, and most of the younger generations of living jazz artists will never know what it was like to have an entire section of New York City dedicated entirely to jazz and be-bop. But like all eras that come and go, legacies are created, and they eventually disintegrate or morph into other, newer forms, some better, and some worse. Since we cannot go back in time, we might as well appreciate what we do have here in NYC, which still has the largest collection of jazz artists on the planet, many of whom can be heard any night of the week at any number of the still surviving NYC jazz clubs. As I sat there, watching and listening to the great performers, I was reminded of why I moved here in the first place. I wanted to experience the real deal. And luckily I did, and still can.