WHEN I PLAYED TRUMPET with LIONEL HAMPTON & AL HIRT (#60 Revised):
It was Saturday night, the joint was jumping, and I was going to play trumpet with Al Hirt and Lionel Hampton. Hirt and his band had just come back on the main stage to join Hampton and his orchestra for an encore. Someone from the evening gown and tuxedo clad crowd yelled, “Saints”, and the jazz legends obliged. Hirt stepped down to the dance floor, followed by Hampton and their musicians. They marched in a single file New Orleans style parade towards our bandstand, their instruments swinging to the beat, all following the lead of Hirt and his flashing trumpet.
Vince turned towards us and nodded his head, saying simply, “Saints”, and the thirteen musicians of Vince Giordano’s Nighthawks turned their sheet music to When The Saints Go Marching In. I realized that while Vince had loaned me a trumpet, he hadn’t given me any sheet music, since he only had arrangements for the usual twelve band members. But I didn’t really need sheet music, and I was as ready to play as I’d ever be. This was my big night.
When the parade of musicians reached our bandstand, Hirt and Hampton motioned for us to join in. It was a sight not often seen in Tampa and the crowd roared in approval. After we finished Saints, Hirt and Hampton and their musicians walked away to a standing ovation, leaving us to play the dance music for the evening. I couldn’t help wishing that I knew how to play the trumpet.
It all started several months before when Vince and his wife visited from New York on a rare vacation. Vince is a perfectionist, who plays eight instruments and sings. He started his twelve-piece orchestra so he could play his kind of music – period music written between 1925 and 1935. He loved this music so much that he had amassed one of the largest collections of sheet music in the country. As the popularity of the Nighthawks grew, he began to play society engagements and added music from the late 1930’s and 1940’s, and grudgingly a few rock and roll tunes.
While he was staying with us at Pass-a-grille Beach, Vince told me that he would be back in a few months to play a private party for George Steinbrenner. I had been a Yankees fan since I was a kid, so I pleaded, “You’ve got to get me in. I want to meet George!”
Vince was uncomfortable with the idea. The year before, when I was in New York on business, he had introduced me as his agent so I could watch the Nighthawks play. Steinbrenner’s party, however, was a big job and Vince didn’t want to impose on one of the most influential men in New York.
I offered to help set up and tear down the equipment, which Vince did himself most of the time. Vince is a hard worker, and on occasion has booked the Nighthawks for as many as three jobs in one night, using extra musicians to fill out two twelve-piece orchestras and a quartet. He then spends a hectic evening running back and forth between the two bigger jobs. He appreciated that I realized how hard he worked and weakened. After thinking for a few minutes he asked, “Can you play an instrument?” I had no musical talent whatsoever. “Well, do you have a tux?” I did. “Then I’ll give you a trumpet and you can sit with the band. Just pretend to play and don’t make any noise.”
I had no idea the private party would be the Coronation Ball for Gasparilla, or that Al Hirt and Lionel Hampton would be the headliners. Now, here I was at Curtis Hixon Hall and at least I looked the part. I was playing third trumpet and sitting in the back of the band next to the drummer, a good place to play “air horn”. I watched the two trumpet players sitting in front of me and copied their motions. Luckily, the drummer was friendly and gave me some arrangements from the bottom of his stack. I was starting to feel like a pro.
I looked through the sheet music and picked Brazil because it had the smallest title. People could walk behind the bandstand and I didn’t want to be discovered as a fake because I was playing the wrong song. The Nighthawks were playing String of Pearls when it happened. A musician from Lionel Hampton’s band came to watch and was standing behind me. When we finished he said, “That’s the best rendition of Brazil I ever heard!” I explained that I was a friend of Vince’s and he was letting me sit in for the night as a favor because I was a big Yankees fan. Luckily he smiled and didn’t tell anyone I couldn’t play.
Now I was losing my nerve. I didn’t want to embarrass Vince and was thinking of leaving when a smiling George Steinbrenner came to the bandstand. He complimented Vince and thanked all of us for coming from New York to be part of the evening. By then it was too late for me to leave without drawing attention.
I was glad I stayed. I got a glimpse of the frustrations Vince suffered trying to play music from a time long past. Rather than enjoying the old classics, people kept coming up and asking for rock and roll. Vince says it’s because no one knows how to dance anymore.
Finally, Vince gave in and we played Proud Mary. The low point of the evening came about 11:00, when a drunk stood to Vince’s right, snapping his fingers at us and yelling, “Play something livelier.” At the same time, an older woman in a gold sequin gown was standing on his left asking, “Can’t you turn the music down a bit?”
After we finished for the evening, I had breakfast with Vince and the band. It was 2:00 a.m. and Vince was dead tired. He’d left home at 7:00 that morning to drive to upstate New York to play in a recording session that recreated Paul Whiteman’s 1924 Aeolian Hall Concert which premiered Gershwin’s Rhapsody in Blue. He then rushed back to New York City, driving through a snow storm, to catch the flight to Tampa. He had a wake up call in four hours for a flight back to New York, and an afternoon job playing Dixieland jazz at the race track.
We talked about the evening. Once breakfast was served, I worked up the courage to tell Vince about being discovered during String of Pearls. To my surprise, he said not to worry. In New York, bands often charged based on the number of musicians and, if needed, a ringer would be paid $25 to $50 to sit in. He had delivered the full twelve-piece band – plus me. “If any one says anything, I’ll say you hurt you lip and I was helping you rehab.”
Before I took Vince to the hotel, I asked why we played Proud Mary. Vince told me, “If you don’t give them what they want, they’ll hire someone who will. I’m lucky I have so much work and get to play as much of my music as I do.”
And I’m lucky I got to play Saints with Al Hirt and Lionel Hampton.
Editor’s Note:
WHEN I PLAYED TRUMPET with LIONEL HAMPTON & AL HIRT (#60 Revised):
It was Saturday night, the joint was jumping, and I was going to play trumpet with Al Hirt and Lionel Hampton. Hirt and his band had just come back on the main stage to join Hampton and his orchestra for an encore. Someone from the evening gown and tuxedo clad crowd yelled, “Saints”, and the jazz legends obliged. Hirt stepped down to the dance floor, followed by Hampton and their musicians. They marched in a single file New Orleans style parade towards our bandstand, their instruments swinging to the beat, all following the lead of Hirt and his flashing trumpet.
Vince turned towards us and nodded his head, saying simply, “Saints”, and the thirteen musicians of “Vince Giordano’s Nighthawks” turned their sheet music to “When The Saints Go Marching In.” I realized that while Vince had loaned me a trumpet, he hadn’t given me any sheet music, since he only had arrangements for the usual twelve band members. But I didn’t really need sheet music, and I was as ready to play as I’d ever be. This was my big night.
When the parade of musicians reached our bandstand, Hirt and Hampton motioned for us to join in. It was a sight not often seen in Tampa and the crowd roared in approval. After we finished “Saints”, Hirt and Hampton and their musicians walked away to a standing ovation, leaving us to play the dance music for the evening. I couldn’t help wishing that I knew how to play the trumpet.
It all started several months before when Vince and his wife visited from New York on a rare vacation. Vince is a perfectionist, who plays eight instruments and sings. He started his twelve-piece orchestra so he could play his kind of music – period music written between 1925 and 1935. He loved this music so much that he had amassed one of the largest collections of sheet music in the country. As the popularity of the “Nighthawks” grew, he began to play society engagements and added music from the late 1930’s and 1940’s, and grudgingly a few rock and roll tunes.
While he was staying with us at Pass-a-grille Beach, Vince told me that he would be back in a few months to play a private party for George Steinbrenner. I had been a Yankees fan since I was a kid, so I pleaded, “You’ve got to get me in. I want to meet George!”
Vince was uncomfortable with the idea. The year before, when I was in New York on business, he had introduced me as his agent so I could watch the “Nighthawks”play. Steinbrenner’s party, however, was a big job and Vince didn’t want to impose on one of the most influential men in New York.
I offered to help set up and tear down the equipment, which Vince did himself most of the time. Vince is a hard worker, and on occasion has booked the “Nighthawks” for as many as three jobs in one night, using extra musicians to fill out two twelve-piece orchestras and a quartet. He then spends a hectic evening running back and forth between the two bigger jobs. He appreciated that I realized how hard he worked and weakened. After thinking for a few minutes he asked, “Can you play an instrument?” I had no musical talent whatsoever. “Well, do you have a tux?” I did. “Then I’ll give you a trumpet and you can sit with the band. Just pretend to play and don’t make any noise.”
I had no idea the private party would be the Coronation Ball for Gasparilla, or that Al Hirt and Lionel Hampton would be the headliners. Now, here I was at Curtis Hixon Hall and at least I looked the part. I was playing third trumpet and sitting in the back of the band next to the drummer, a good place to play “air horn”. I watched the two trumpet players sitting in front of me and copied their motions. Luckily, the drummer was friendly and gave me some arrangements from the bottom of his stack. I was starting to feel like a pro.
I looked through the sheet music and picked “Brazil” because it had the smallest title. People could walk behind the bandstand and I didn’t want to be discovered as a fake because I was playing the wrong song. The “Nighthawk” were playing “String of Pearls” when it happened. A musician from Lionel Hampton’s band came to watch and was standing behind me. When we finished he said, “That’s the best rendition of “Brazil”I ever heard!” I explained that I was a friend of Vince’s and he was letting me sit in for the night as a favor because I was a big Yankees fan. Luckily he smiled and didn’t tell anyone I couldn’t play.
Now I was losing my nerve. I didn’t want to embarrass Vince and was thinking of leaving when a smiling George Steinbrenner came to the bandstand. He complimented Vince and thanked all of us for coming from New York to be part of the evening. By then it was too late for me to leave without drawing attention.
I was glad I stayed. I got a glimpse of the frustrations Vince suffered trying to play music from a time long past. Rather than enjoying the old classics, people kept coming up and asking for rock and roll. Vince says it’s because no one knows how to dance anymore.
Finally, Vince gave in and we played “Proud Mary” The low point of the evening came about 11:00, when a drunk stood to Vince’s right, snapping his fingers at us and yelling, “Play something livelier.” At the same time, an older woman in a gold sequin gown was standing on his left asking, “Can’t you turn the music down a bit?”
After we finished for the evening, I had breakfast with Vince and the band. It was 2:00 a.m. and Vince was dead tired. He’d left home at 7:00 that morning to drive to upstate New York to play in a recording session that recreated Paul Whiteman’s 1924 Aeolian Hall Concert which premiered Gershwin’s “Rhapsody in Blue.” He then rushed back to New York City, driving through a snow storm, to catch the flight to Tampa. He had a wake up call in four hours for a flight back to New York, and an afternoon job playing Dixieland jazz at the race track.
We talked about the evening. Once breakfast was served, I worked up the courage to tell Vince about being discovered during “String of Pearls.” To my surprise, he said not to worry. In New York, bands often charged based on the number of musicians and, if needed, a ringer would be paid $25 to $50 to sit in. He had delivered the full twelve-piece band – plus me. “If any one says anything, I’ll say you hurt you lip and I was helping you rehab.”
Before I took Vince to the hotel, I asked why we played “Proud Mary.” Vince told me, “If you don’t give them what they want, they’ll hire someone who will. I’m lucky I have so much work and get to play as much of my music as I do.”
And I’m lucky I got to play “Saints” with Al Hirt and Lionel Hampton.
Editor’s Note: I just called Vince to check in. With a good friend you can pick up right where you left off, just like it was yesterday. The big news was he found a home for his duplicate arrangements. Vince sent 13,000 to north Texas State University. He still has 60,000 arrangements.
Vince and I met through our wives, who are long gone. In the photo from 1999. Vince is with his partner and business manager, the lovely and tenacious Carol Hughes. They are still together. Cathy had met Vince & Carol in New York City and Sanibel, Florida. This story happened in the mid-1980s. When I originally submit my story, Private Lives was paying $150. My piece was sent back with a few suggestions. By the time I got back to it and resubmitted in 1995, Private Lives only paid $75.