Keeping the Beat on the Street (16 page)

Elliott Callier, Benny Jones
Photo by Marcel joly

I was born here in New Orleans, at 1024 North Robertson Street. I came from a very large family—seven brothers and six sisters. My daddy was a drummer, Chester Jones. The only other one of our family that played music was my half brother, Eugene Jones; he used to play with Clarence “Frogman” Henry on Bourbon Street. I had a younger brother called Michael George—he used to play bass drum in the band. Eugene died in the late sixties
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My father had also been a prizefighter in his younger days. Lots of people have told me how good he was—I never got to see him fight. I remember when I was young and we lived on Marais Street—the old Caldonia was in that neighborhood. And Mama Ruth had the Cozy Corner on Robertson. And there were lots of jazz funerals in the neighborhood, two or three times a week. So my daddy was playing around a lot—sometimes I'd see him with Louis Cottrell, and sometimes with Placide Adams
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Sometimes at the weekend, he'd be doing a jazz funeral together with Freddie Kohlman. Freddie would say, “Chuck, what do you want to play?” If my daddy chose snare drum, Freddie would play bass drum. Or the other way around—it didn't matter to them
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Kid Howard lived on Marais Street, and so did Jim Robinson until he moved over onto St. Philip
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I was born and raised in the Tremé area, and I've never left it. Half the musicians in New Orleans came out of the Tremé—my father, Smokey Johnson, John Boudreaux, the list goes on and on
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I got interested in second lining behind all those old men when they played the jazz funerals. The Sixth Ward Diamonds, the Sixth Ward High Steppers, the Money Wasters, I was in all those clubs. We would get about twenty of us and then vote on what colors we would wear, what color shoes. We used to buy the matching cloth at the store and have it made up into outfits
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What they would do is, they would put up a sign in a bar saying there was a social and pleasure club starting. We're going to meet on, let's say, the third Sunday of every month. Everybody would come, but if we started getting too many members, say more than twenty-five or thirty, we'd shut the book down, and tell people membership was closed. Members would pay a joining fee, usually about forty or fifty dollars. At the end of the year, they'd split up any money that was left and start again the next year
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The main reason for the clubs was parading. It's not like a benevolent society, which has to have a charter from the city and would be responsible for paying deceased members' burial expenses, or a band for the funeral, or whatever. This would be less formal, and most of the money went to buy the clothes. Some clubs would only parade two or three times a year and some of them only once. My daddy used to belong to the Square Deal Social and Pleasure Club; I think he was on the baseball team
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I was always following musicians when I was younger—Imarried into the Batiste family, they were always having parties—Iused to be beating on the pots and pans, and that's how I got started. I taught myself, no outside teaching
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My daddy was pleased when I started to play. Sometimes when he worked with Placide Adams, they might have to march from the Royal Sonesta Hotel to the boat. Placide would ask me to play snare drum for the march while my daddy was sitting up on the boat for the sit-down gig. I joined the union in 1976
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I was around sixteen when I started. Like I say, we always had parties, and the Batiste family had a kazoo band, with the Baby Dolls and all that. I bought a bass drum and started banging round the house with it, trying to learn that beat, you know? As a matter of fact, I started off doing a couple of gigs with the Olympia Brass Band as grand marshal
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The bandleader was in charge of the actual jobs, because he had to get the money to pay everybody. He'd tell the grand marshal, “OK, we're going to make a short route. Go down four blocks and take a left,” etc
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When we started on the street, we brought people into the Tremé on Halloween or St. Joseph's night. The Tremé Brass Band plays more the traditional music—blues and hymns and gospel tunes—and the Rebirth plays like modern music, funk and so forth. We can play that too, but we stick more to the traditional music—so far, we've made more money with the traditional music, so I just stay right there. My father being a musician really helped me, because I got to meet a bunch of his friends, and that helped me get started later on
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Tremé Brass Band (Kenneth Terry, Kerwin James, Lionel Batiste Sr., Revert Andrews; kneeling: Butch Gomez, Benny Jones)
Courtesy Butch Gomez

The way the young hands dress and play for a funeral today, I never thought I'd see it happening. Now they come in short pants, cap, you know? Sometimes those young bands ask me to play with them. I guess they respect me because of my connection with the Dirty Dozen and the way that band changed music. But after I left the Dirty Dozen, I went back to the traditional stuff
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The first band to change the music was years ago, Leroy Jones and the Hurricane Brass Band. And the next one after that was the Dirty Dozen. It was modern times, modern music, the new steps in the modern way of dancing: it all changed the tempo of music. The audience had a lot to do with how the music changed. The young people today, if they want up-tempo music, they'll hire a younger band. If people want a traditional funeral, they'll hire us to play the old dirges, dress in the traditional way
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When I was young, I would see the Onward, the Eureka, the Olympia, the Tuxedo, all those old bands. They were more traditional than my band—they had clarinets, for instance, I don't
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I started on bass drum with Harold Dejan's second band, Olympia No. 2. One time Andrew Jefferson got sick, and they took me to Mexico with the first band. Andrew showed me a few things on the gigs, like, “Hum the tune to yourself—that way you don't get lost.”

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When me and my wife was young ones, courting, I was playing with the Dirty Dozen kazoo band. I told you, my wife was a member of the Batiste family, and the kazoo band used to walk behind the Baby Dolls at Mardi Gras. All the Batiste ladies, Felicia, Mary, all them, were in the Baby Dolls. In the kazoo band was Lionel's brothers—Henry, Norman, “Precisely,” Arthur. It was all the Batiste family; they lived on St. Philip Street, right across from the Nelson family. They always had parties going on, with kazoos, singing, drumming, ukulele, all that. They'd play old songs like “Margie”—that was what they called the Dirty Dozen
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Then I set about forming the Dirty Dozen Brass Band. Originally, there was me, Andrew Green on snare drum, Kirk Joseph, Roger Lewis, Charles Joseph, Cyrille Salvant (who used to play with the Majestic). I was the leader; I put the band together. Sometimes, people asked me to supply two bands on the same day—it wasn't a problem. I'd use people like Tuba Fats or Richard Payne to make up the other band
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It was the Dirty Dozen name that got us started, and then our music changed everything around. A friend of mine called me to play Monday nights at the Glasshouse on Saratoga Street. We'd start around ten thirty and play until two or three in the morning—I think the admission was three dollars. We'd make up tunes on the spot. Roger Lewis was technically the best in the band, and Kirk Joseph had plenty of energy. We had Kevin Harris on tenor saxophone, Charles Joseph on trombone
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Some of the band had worked for the Olympia, some of them came from the Majestic Brass Band, some from the Tuxedo, some of them from the Hurricane. The band thought if they started changing their music, it would bring them onto a different level
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We got a recording date with George Wein—we had a five-year recording contract with him. As the band got more famous, it started picking up plenty of work and going in and out of town
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I had a good job, my kids were in high school, and I couldn't always leave town to be with the band. I worked with them for a while when they had work in New Orleans, but then I decided to branch out with the Tremé Brass Band and play the traditional stuff, because not too many other people were doing that. Roger Lewis and Gregory Davis started running the Dirty Dozen after I left
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I started the Tremé band with me, Lionel Batiste, James Andrews on trumpet, Corey Henry on trombone, sometimes Keith Anderson on trombone too. For a while, Butch Gomez played soprano, and he did some booking too. We did real well by coming back to the traditional music
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BORN
: New Orleans, November 2, 1932
Member of the Tremé Brass Band
Interviewed on South Park Place, September 2001

Troy “Trombone Shorty” Andrews, Lionel Batiste Sr.
Photo by Peter Nissen

I was born and raised in the Tremé. I'm not related to any other musicians with the same name. My daddy was Walter Lewis Batiste— he was from outside of New Orleans. He moved here when he was young, and that's when he met my momma. He was a blacksmith; he used to shoe horses. Then he quit that job after he was pushed by one of the mules. My momma's name was Alma Trepagnier Batiste. I have four sisters and six brothers
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I was the youngest of the eleven—all my brothers played guitar and banjo. In the area where I was raised up was right across from Craig School. Around the corner at 933 Marais Street, Jim Robinson lived, the trombone player. In the thirteen hundred block was Little Jim, Sidney Brown—he played upright bass and tuba. And in the fifteen hundred block, that's where Kid Howard was living. On St. Claude, that's where Alton Purnell the piano player lived. I knew all of those fellows. In the twelve hundred block of St. Philip Street, that's where Arthur Ogle the snare drummer lived. The nine hundred block of St. Claude Street was where Willie Parker was. And “Bazooka Noone” [Johnson] was in the neighborhood. And Smiley Lewis, Cousin Joe—I was around all them. They saw I was interested. I always liked to be around musicians. At one time, I was playing a little piccolo
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Where we were living at was across from the school. And when the school band would be rehearsing, I would be on the step, playing drums along with them. My daddy bought a drum for me. There was an upright bass player, name of Halsey, walked with a limp. And Slow Drag and Mr. Alphonse Picou. George Lewis is related to me. My daddy showed George Lewis, so I understand, how to play a nickel flute. My daddy played guitar and banjo too. He mostly entertained us, people in the neighborhood
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I knew Burnell Santiago when he lived on St. Claude Street; we all came up around that area. He was living right behind St. Philip. He was good—you couldn't fool with him. He played all kinds, including classical. My daddy had all kinds of instruments in the house, except a horn. I used to fool with all of them, even the piano. My sister was going to lessons. I'd be alongside, and I'd watch them. My oldest brother played piano too—in those days, everybody's house you went to, they had a piano. I learned how to play “Salty Dog.”

My mom used to sing a lot, and my oldest sister. All of us could entertain. Like we'd gather round the piano, have some wine, have a party. Right in the Tremé—I'm very proud of the Tremé. I used to take a piece of wood, tap dance to the music—I must have been around nine years old. My first job was for Benny Jones's daddy, Mr. Chester. Benny had an uncle played piano. The job was across the river, a place called the Pepper Pot. Professor Longhair, Smiley Lewis, a lot of them played over there
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And right there on St. Philip and Burgundy was a barroom called the Honey Dripper. That's where Smiley Lewis, Cousin Joe, and Walter Nelson played. Walter was living across the street, in a rooming house called the Monkey Puzzle. His son, Walter Junior—they called him Papoose—he got his break with Fats Domino. Papoose was a better player than his daddy, except for the blues—you can't beat those old men for playing blues. He had a little brother—they called him Prince La La—he had in mind that he could play better than Papoose, but he couldn't. And he had an aunt called Black Emma—she played the hell out of the banjo. Her right name was Emma Guichard. People would come from outside the Tremé to play. Like the dance nights on the weekend. They all used to go in the yard at the Monkey Puzzle and practice
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