Word: kid
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Dates: during 1940-1949
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...jazz connoisseurs, lightskinned, leathery Edward ("Kid") Ory, 58, is an authentic old master. His fame flowered in the Bayreuth of jazz, New Orleans in the early 1900s. Ever since, he has been one of the legendary great tailgate trombonists.* A little over a decade ago, thoroughly discouraged by the rising popularity of big-orchestra sweetness ("I figured I couldn't live off jazz"), he dropped out of sight. This week, after more than two years of shuffling up the comeback trail, the Kid and his slippery, sliding trombone were sitting pretty again...
...dark-eyed jazz zealot named Marili Morden, proprietor of Hollywood's Jazz Man Record Shop, who finally found the Kid. He had been working in the mail room of Los Angeles' Sante Fe railway station. For nine years his trombone had been collecting dust, but he had not lost the old tailgate technique...
...Ertegun, erudite, diminutive son of the late Turkish Ambassador, she founded the Crescent Record Co. Zealot Ertegun is passionately certain that New Orleans jazz is a genuine art form, and America's chief contribution to culture. His most obvious reason for founding the company was to get the Kid back on wax. (Ory's 1921 Sunshine recordings-Ory's Creole Trombone, Society Blues-were probably the first Negro-made records of U.S. jazz...
Crescent's 1,500 pressings of two Kid Ory discs (Creole Song; South, Get Out of Here; Blues for Jimmy) were sold out soon after the release. They were made in Los Angeles with the help of an authentic Dixieland ensemble-including Trumpeter Edward ("Mutt") Carey, who weathered the sweet-arrangement era as a Pullman porter. The recordings, a mixture of Congo barrelhouse and Creole sauce, are probably as close as anything ever put on wax to the spirit of old Storyville, New Orleans' once-gaudy bawdyhouse district...
Medics in the aid station near Bastogne silently pitied the young paratrooper. A replacement, he had been grievously wounded in his first action-a shell fragment had sheared off his left arm just below the shoulder. But the kid wanted no sympathy. He wanted something more specific: "One of you guys go back and find my arm. There's a wrist watch on it I want to keep...