Word: white
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Dates: during 1960-1969
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...spent a lifetime playing his cornet in the rural south in and around New Orleans. He had never recorded, but among the old timers in New Orleans, he was remembered with great respect. The collectors finally located Bunk in New Iberia, Louisiana. He was slight and dark with snow white hair, well into his sixties by then. Did he play anymore? No, haven't touched a horn in ten years. Did he have a horn? Nope. My horn got wrecked the night Evan Thomas was murdered on the bandstand in 1932, and I haven't played since then. Could...
THERE WERE OTHER great bands playing there, too. In 1961, someone had discovered that there was a whole city full of traditional jazzmen. Some were almost unknown; others had been forgotten, lost, or given up for dead. Some had never played for white audiences before. Some had led proud, full bands before the depression. Nearly all of them had played with the greats of New Orleans jazz in their youths--Armstrong, Edmund Hall, Johnny Dodds, King Oliver, Sidney Bechet. These were just fellow musicians to these old men. There were only a handful of active musicians when Preservation Hall opened...
...Boxers and jazzmen were the great folk heroes of that culture. In George's youth, long before black men were allowed into other fields of sports and entertainment, the fighter and the musician were looked upon with reverence and awe. These men, who could beat the hell out of white men with impunity, or blow the corny white society bands off the stand, these men were half-gods in the eyes of their brothers. The jazzman is still respected on the back streets of New Orleans. "Take me," George would say. "Now I always been a little...
...bringing the body out already. The casket was almost hidden under wreaths of flowers. As it passed by the band, we played "Just a Closer Walk with Thee," in dirge tempo. The crowd was silent as the mourners in black followed the casket. One heavy old woman with fleecy white hair was weeping into a handkerchief and singing out the words of the hymn in between sobs. Her rich voice wailed above the brass with a clear, poignant tone...
...ignored. There are seventeen parallels. Both my roaches and the V.C. are indigenous forces, are ignorant, ill-clad and underfed; they both drag away the bodies of their slain, come back no matter how many are killed, move by night, avoid prolonged engagements with the enemy, are not white, are fighting against people who are, have been fighting for generations, are of uncertain numbers, move via infiltration routes, are wily, are outarmed by the enemy, are contemptuous of death, are independent of outside control, are inscrutable, and are winning...