Zenith City: Stories from Duluth

Remembering Satchmo

during the centennial year () of the great jazz trumpeter , Louis Armstrong, there were numerous homages to the legendary artist by musicians who knew him and younger performers who felt his influence, as well as paeans from critics. Fans bought reissued CDs of his greatest hits. New Satchmo biographies were in the works. Armstrong, who died in , was a larger-than-life musician and performer. But he was also a warm human being. I met the illustrious jazz musician back in , when I was fourteen and Louie Armstrong and his All-Stars were headlining the annual Home Show at the Duluth National Guard Armory. Our Washington Junior High School band director encouraged his students to attend. I think he said something about giving extra credit to kids who showed him ticket stubs from the show. I was a drummer in the band and also a reporter for the school paper. After arranging to attend the show with two friends, I thought I might try to wrangle an interview with Armstrong and write a feature for the next edition of the Bugle. We went to the Sunday matinee and watched Satchmo sing and dance with Vilma Middleton, the All-Star’s rotund female vocalist. Armstrong mugged; he blew his horn, and after about seventy-five minutes, he concluded the set with a foot-stomping rendition of “When the Saints Go Marching In.” My friends raced to get in a line for free ice-cream bars, but I wandered over to the backstage entrance. While two security guards joked with a vendor, I slipped between them and maneuvered down the hall, jostled by roadies and a juggler’s scantily clad female assistants remembering satchmo 144 Remembering Satchmo | 145 who were frantically looking for props. Finally I stood before the sparsely furnished dressing room used by the conductor of the Duluth Symphony Orchestra during concerts. The door was open, and Armstrong was alone inside, seated behind a large metal desk poring over newspaper reviews of the film The Glenn Miller Story, in which he played a featured role. He was wearing a checkered bathrobe and slippers. A colorful tam covered his head, and a towel was wrapped about his neck. Reading glasses rested on the tip of his nose. Amid the chaos of crews and other performers , Satchmo was calmly scissoring articles from the papers, then pasting them in a large black scrapbook. Nervous, I stood near the doorway, half-expecting to be evicted. Satchmo, concentrating on his newspapers, didn’t notice me. Too timid to speak, I was about to slink away, when a middle-aged man carrying a fresh bundle of papers appeared and suddenly asked, “You waiting to see the boss, young fella?” I nodded. “Sure, come on in. He’ll see you.” I followed the aide as he plopped newspapers on the desk. He stepped back. “Got a young man here wants an autograph.” Armstrong looked up. “Yeah, I’ll sign for you, Buddy,” he said, his voice a familiar low, gravelly rumble. Though I really wanted to interview Satchmo, I thrust my notebook across the desk. He scrawled his signature on the first page, then paused. On the top of that page, I’d earlier written, “An interview with Louie Armstrong.” He returned the notebook. “What paper you with?” I swallowed, then mumbled, “Bugle, a school paper.” He smiled and leaned back in his chair. “Is it a good paper, Buddy?” I later read that Armstrong called everyone “Pops,” but during the next ten or fifteen minutes he referred to me as “Buddy.” “It’s okay, I guess,” I replied. “If you’re a good writer, it should be better than okay,” he said. “Now what do you want to know?” I had no idea. I’d never interviewed anyone before, let alone a celebrity. Finally I blurted, “How long have you been playing the trumpet?” 146 | Remembering Satchmo He told me he’d started as a young boy in New Orleans. I asked if he liked traveling all over the world. “I get to meet my fans, which is important in this business.” Then he asked if I played a musical instrument. I told him I was a drummer in the school band. “You practice every day, Buddy?” “Not always.” “Writing for the paper takes a lot of time, hey?” “I guess so.” “Gotta have good newspaper reporters too. That’s an important job.” He...