Elegy for Chops

Once upon a time, a man slipped me his phone number. It was the beginning of a beautiful friendship. 

Benny "Chops" Arradondo had played trumpet with Basie and other big bands of the era, on tour and nearer to home in Deep Ellum. We met at an elementary school in South Dallas where he was a volunteer at the library, trumpet still at the ready to play a brief tune when the kids gave him an opening. He was in his 70s; this was the mid-'80s. I told him my late father had also played the trumpet in big bands early in his life, we talked about a few other things, and while I was saying goodbye to the librarian, Chops wrote down his number and said to call whenever I wanted to revisit the old days.

I did. During one of our long conversations, he mentioned that he and some friends played music of their era at nursing homes. (One of his bandmates: Buster Smith. Look him up.) At the time, Deep Ellum's revival was getting in gear, and I introduced Chops to Jeffrey Liles and Russell Hobbs one day at their Prophet Bar, which was in a building Chops remembered from his old Deep Ellum days. Talk happened, ideas flew, and the result was a new act for the bar: the Legendary Revelations. 

Any doubts we might have had about a group of retirees playing music from the past in this hip club just evaporated -- the crowd was well past capacity that night, and very appreciative of the tradition before them. Chops and his band were astounded. And very, very happy.

After Chops died, his Legendary Revelations carried on, and even supplied the closing track on the (otherwise current) Sound of Deep Ellum compilation LP. 

Once upon a time, Chops told me he was going to get the LegeRevs to learn Fats Waller's "You're Not the Only Oyster in the Stew" for me. Don't know whether they did, but -- Chops, I still smile for you whenever I hum it.

7 June 2023 

Larry McMurtry

Larry McMurtry used to drop by the Blockbuster where I worked because it was near the Dallas branch of his beloved Booked Up empire. Apparently he liked to collect obscure B-movie videos almost as much as he loved old books, because he never rented, only placed special orders with us.

One day, as he walked up to the checkout desk, my co-worker said, "Who's that guy? Why do people always get excited when he comes into the store?" He hit the desk in time to hear me say with a wink in his direction, "Oh, he has a great bookstore around the corner." Never seen a smile as wide and proud as his that some video store clerk "got" him. Whenever he came to the store after that, he always greeted me with a little wink. (And I did reveal the bestselling-author part of the story to the co-worker later.)

(Thanks to my Love, Lust and Other Facts of Life buddy Frank Crim for inspiring me with his memory of "Mr. Jazz," the actor George Segal who was a musician at heart. RIP to you both, Msrs. McMurtry and Segal, and here's to everyone with passion projects beyond their best-known occupation.)
27 March 2021