I was a gofer. The musicians sent me out to fetch them just about anything they wanted during their rehearsals. I could not bring back cigarettes, liquor or women. I did get hamburgers, coffee and gum. They got the former items themselves.
I did see the seamy sides of the band members, up close and personal. Overall, they looked old and tired. Not only were their clothes frayed at the edges, the band members looked frayed themselves. As a kid, I wondered what kind of lives they led. But in retrospect, although they seemed to suffer through practices, they absolutely glowed during performances and we all realized that nothing mattered but the music.
Another one of my tasks was spreading floor wax on every surface of the rich, inlaid parquet floor that later in the evening would give the dancers that smooth glide.
The wax compound had minute crystals that crunched as the dancing duos scraped and skimmed on the floor. It had the same pop as walking on frozen snow crystals in the cold Utah winters.
Here's just a short list of some of the luminaries that took over the stage — raise your hand if you have heard the music of Stan Kenton, Woody Herman, Les Brown, Russ Morgan, Harry James, Jan Garber (the Idol of the Airways), June Christy, Sarah Vaughn, Billy Eckstine and Ella, who needs no last name. Oops, just about forgot the fighting Dorsey brothers.
My favorite was Stan Kenton, lightly touching the piano keys with his long fingers and leading his band at the same time in a sweeping, rhythmic big band sound.
Ella Fitzgerald and June Christy swept me up into their nuanced and dreamy voices; and although their styles were markedly different, my heart ached just the same.