I know you all are wondering who or what Jazz is. Well, I'm Jazz. My birth name is Johnny Carter. I was born in New Orleans on July 26th, 1919. My mama, Lula Mae Carter, was a smart woman, from what I hear. People around town say that she was the smartest woman and the best singer in New Orleans. They also say that she was the finest woman in New Orleans and every man wanted to date her. But my daddy ended up with her. Turns out she died when I was 2 from tuberculosis. I don't know much about my father. My daddy left home when he found out Mama was pregnant. My aunt Annie told me he wasn't ready to raise a child. She took me in when my mama died. She took real good care of me. She made sure I got a good education. Her husband, my uncle Curly, was a blues musician. They called him that because he had one of those processed hairdos and it made his hair really curly. His real name was Hubert. He played trumpet in a band called the Rhythm Rockers. He bought me my first trumpet when I was 5 and he gave me my first lessons on the trumpet. I went to a school with only one room. There were more white children than there were black. I tried my best to fit in, but the white kids would never play with or talk to me. I felt like I didn't belong. They would bully me all the time. They would say stuff like, "Go back to Africa, ya big-lipped nigger!", or "Where's your fried chicken and watermelon, Sambo?" I never knew what they meant but now going through what they call the Civil Rights Movement with this Martin Luther King guy and this Rosa Parks lady, I know and feel bad for the children having to go through it too.
The year was 1937. I was the only black child to graduate from Basin Street High School. The white folks did their best to stop me from graduating. But I fought back. I never did have dreams of going to college, so I didn't go. Music was always my dream and it was in my blood. I wanted to be a musician in the Duke Ellington Orchestra like Cootie Williams. I started busking. I took my trumpet that my uncle had given me and went onto the streets of New Orleans and played a lot of popular numbers like "Dippermouth Blues", "West End Blues", and other tunes. In 1943, while busking, I met a cat named Danny Brown. Danny was from Chicago and was visiting New Orleans. Danny was a tall fellow, about 6 feet. He was a light fellow about the color of caramel. He had a resonating bass voice, so I nicknamed him Bass. He was a blues shouter like Jimmy Rushing from the Count Basie Band. He told me he was going back to Chicago in a few days. I told him I wanted to go with him, and he said ok.
A few days later, we boarded a train to Chicago. On the train we met another musician. He was a saxophone player who was a fellow busker from Alabama. His introduced himself as Rudy "The Duke" Jackson. He said to just call him Duke for short. Bass and I got real acquainted with Duke as the train rolled on to Chicago. We held a small concert for the passengers. Duke said, "We make a pretty good trio, man. When we get to Chicago, we need to find more musicians to expand our band. After that, we can go on the road like all those big time jazz bands! We'll make a fortune!" Bass said, "I know a few musicians that would be good and we can hold auditions for more!" I said, "That's a GREAT idea!"
Message From the Author:
I just wanted to say that this is my first story. If you enjoy it, comment and give some suggestions for the rest of the story. I will try to incorporate your ideas into the next parts.
