VANITY FAIR ARTICLE ON PRESERVATION HALL 50TH

[Here is the text of my "spotlight" piece as it appeared in the January 2012 print edition of Vanity Fair. This is only a teaser! The full 4600-word piece is on the VF website and iPad apps with music, photos, bells and whistles. Check the link at the end of this post.]

It is arguably the best-known address in New Orleans: 726 St. Peter Street, even better known as Preservation Hall. Since its opening day, June 10, 1961, more than two million people have walked through its gate, including presidents, prime ministers, movie stars, and rock idols. Every night, tourists and locals form long lines to pony up the $12 entrance fee and sit on rough wooden benches and threadbare cushions in a musty, un-air-conditioned, 31-by-20-foot room. The attraction? Three sets of traditional New Orleans jazz played by five to seven musicians in black suits, white shirts, and black ties. The place and the routine are exactly as they were in the 60s, but some things have changed: the all-black bands are now racially mixed; the average age of the players is considerably younger; the crowds are much bigger. The most amazing thing is that this music—rooted in blues, ragtime, and march- es from the turn of the 20th century—is still being played at all. Before the hall was launched, in a former art gallery, the aging ranks of the city’s black jazz musicians seemed headed for extinction. Under the skillful man- agement of Pennsylvania transplants Allan and Sandra Jaffe, Preservation Hall soon gave these old jazzmen and their music a new lease on life and ultimately turned the nickel-and-dime-kitty hall—where the band played for tips dropped into a wicker basket—into a thriving business. But as the end nears for this golden-anniversary year—marked by major exhibitions at the Ogden Museum of Southern Art and the old U.S. Mint museum, a spate of publications, and a series of high-profile concerts around the country—the current keepers of the flame face daunting questions: With all of the original musicians dead and gone, an aging audience base, and a popular culture invested more in hip-hop than in old-time jazz, what are you preserving? And how long can you keep it up? Ben Jaffe, 40, son of the founders, has an optimistic answer: “This anniversary is about the next 50 years.”

For the full-blown version, follow this link:

http://www.vanityfair.com/culture/2012/01/preservation-hall-201201

Remembering Walter Payton, 1942 - 2010

Walter Payton, a great jazz bassist and educator, died Thursday at the age of 68. He was a longtime regular with the Preservation Hall touring band, and a genial music professor who taught generations of students in the New Orleans public schools.

I have known Walter since he first appeared in Preservation Hall one night in 1965, a soft-spoken 23-year-old among all the "old men" who then played at that historic jazz venue. The regulars around the Hall looked on him as the "young hope"—the first young musician from the local black community to take up the flambeau of traditional jazz. Four decades later, he wound up, with his twinkling eyes and gray beard, the very emblem of the "grand old man" of New Orleans jazz. I heard Walter play many times, and was fortunate enough to play with him on several occasions. I was always struck by his mastery of the instrument and his ability to drive a band. I also enjoyed his warm personality and humor. But my friend Ben Jaffe, Walter's ex-pupil, who currently runs Preservation Hall, knew him far better than I, and recounted his thoughts about him in a recent email. With Ben's permission, I reproduce his moving tribute here:

Walt's been a part of my life as long as I can remember. I started studying music with him at Mcdonogh 15 when I was in pre-school. I wasn't supposed to be in band, but Walt knew my dad and he let me hang around. I went on to study upright bass with Walt. He lived on St. Phillip Street at the time in Big Jim Robinson's old house right off Rampart Street across from the park. I would carry my bass over to his house every Saturday morning. I didn't look forward to those lessons. He was hard on me. Extremely strict. He pushed me harder than any other teacher I've ever had. We would sit for hours playing scales up and down, a cigarette dangling from his lips. His salt and pepper beard. His rock solid build. His stare...His playfulness...

Walt was a great athlete. He studied karate for years. He became a black belt. He was proud of karate and applied many of the lessons to life and music. I remember him staying up late at night, after our shows, practicing for hours. He made a bet one night that he could kick the sign hanging outside...

The other party eventually backed down. I don't know if it was because the wage was too high or they actually thought he could do it! There was no doubt in my mind he could.....

Walt could be intimidating. One minute ice cold and soft as a kitten the next. He was solid as a brick wall which could be deceiving since he had the temperament of an artist. He was often misunderstood. He could stop you mid stride with his glare. In grammar school, I saw him peg a kid once with an eraser from 30 feet away without even looking! I would not want to ever be on Walt's bad side.

He was an exceptional musician. He took music seriously. Few people know he was the bass player on "Working In A Coal Mine"...He taught me to respect and study the fundamentals of music. He imparted the importance of practice and hard work. Walt taught school in New Orleans for decades. A mighty achievement. Hundreds, thousands, of students passed through his classrooms. Walt battled his own demons up until his transition. It was difficult to watch, knowing he didn't have the will to fight anymore. Katrina left an open scar on his soul. It was hard to stay upset at Walt for long. Walt had lots of sides, as we all do. Some good, some regrettable but mostly lovable. He had the most gentlest of hearts and at the same time could be hard as nails. He left behind a great legacy. His son Nicholas is one of the finest, talented musicians I've ever known.I don't know a world without Walt. I miss his chuckle dearly.

See also Keith Spera's obituary of Payton in the Times-Picayune: http://www.nola.com/music/index.ssf/2010/10/walter_payton_longtime_new_orl.html