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I Remember Jazz • 117 little of his actual ability. They couldn't and didn't demonstrate the extent of his inventiveness, the firmness and facility with which his dominant lead drove the ensemble. I also came to understand that for the most part his musical objectives had little in common with those of the musicians who had been assigned to make up his band. "People don't want to hear those same old numbers all the time. 'Panama/ 'Muskrat Ramble/ youknow, 'When the Saints Go Marchin' In.' When I come up, we learned the new tunes soon as they come out. Musicians got to move with the times. Can't keep playin' the same thing all the time. People don't want that. They want to hear the new songs." Not what I expected to hear from the dean of New Orleans jazz trumpet players. Edmond Souchon Over the phone, he said: "Man, I do believe my family's tryin' to kill me! I promised Marie [pronounced with a flat a and with the accent on the first syllable]I was gonna take her for a visit to California, and I swear, I'm too sick to go. I'm not over this damn flu yet. And it's not only my wife! My daughter Dolly Ann, too. They say, 'Get out in that California sunshine! It'll do you good. You'll feel better.' All that kind of stuff. Even my brother Harry is after me to go to California. I'm not well enough to go to California—or anyplace." I happened to know there were good reasons for Sou not to want to go to California right then. Of course, he'd promised to go and he'd keep the promise if the ladies in his family insisted. I suspected, though, that he was using his recent bout with the flu to try to postpone the vacation. I said, treacherously, "Might be a good idea. The change could do you good." "You, too, you son of a bitch?" he demanded. "You're all tryin' to kill me." The problem was, of course, that we were all in on a secret we were keeping from Sou. He and Marie were to be the guests of Karl Kramer, one of the founders of the Music Corporation of America (MCA). Karl was to take him on a tour of the CBS studios and, once there, to steer him through a door that would bring him on stage and camera, face to face with Ralph Edwards, as the guest of honor on 118 • I Remember Jazz "This Is Your Life." An all-star jazz band, including Eddie Condon and Muggsy Spanier, had been summoned to abet Sou's musical efforts , and I was one of the people the CBS researchers had contacted to help supply data and photographs. I was, of course, sworn to secrecy , because it was supposed to come as a complete surprise to Sou when the host said, "Doctor Edmond Souchon—This Is Your Life!" I wasn't one of the people invited to make the trek to California, so I stayed home and watched on television. I saw the show open on a semidarkened hallwayat CBS. Walkingslowly in the hall were Sou and Karl. I saw Karl put his hand on a doorknob to open it, and I saw Doc lean toward him and say something the TV audience couldn't hear. Then Karl opened the door onto the TV stage where Sou, in the brilliant glare of the Kleig lights, stood nonplussed, realizing suddenly, I'm sure, the cause of the strange conduct of his family and friends during the preceding week or so. Well, Sou did what he was supposed to do. He was affable and friendly, though I noticed he seemed ill at ease, a state in which he was rarely to be found. Nevertheless, he played his banjo and guitar, he sang, he listened as the host recounted the fact that he had dragged ten thousand infants, kicking and screaming, into this world. He accepted the accolades and the deluxe souvenir scrap book graciously. Then the show was over. A week or so later we met for lunch at Commander's Palace to discuss the publication of our joint venture, New Orleans Jazz: A Family Album, for which we would ultimately win the Louisiana Book Award. I congratulated him on the tribute the TV show had paid him, and I commented that he...

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