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19 walked right up to me at the corner of West 52nd and Broadway, and he actually said, Do you know how to get to Carnegie Hall? And even in my dream I realized he’d been dead since 1969, although I still couldn’t believe it, his not knowing Carnegie Hall was only blocks away, so I figured he’d meant all along to be setting me up instead, but who was I to deliver a punch line to the Hawk himself, the royal Bean—to my ear, the unmistakable heavyweight champion of the tenor saxophone world? I’ll blow you a real quick chorus or two if you help me out just this one time, man—and that’s exactly what the late Coleman Hawkins did. So, finally, I had to tell him: Practice. And I guess he had to laugh: That’s really what I needed to hear. Then he thwacked me with his immortal horn, and I woke up to the coolest breeze through any window, ever, my head still ringing with every strain of his Body and Soul. In My Dream, Coleman Hawkins ...

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