Shot 3 Silenced the Singer
Eddie Jefferson is on the marquee in Detroit Baker’s Keyboard Lounge May 9, 1979 1:35 in the AM
When the music’s over, step out into quiet night 1, 2, 3, 4, exit Baker’s on Livernois Avenue into the Motor City street.
The Patriarch Lyric Composer of Jazz Vocalese Griot Poet who busted rhymes on the solos of Hawk & Prez Diz & Bird Dexter & James Moody is now hustling back to his road home the Leland House Hotel with friends Cheryl Francis, Leonard Paul Harrell & Valerie Chalk.
Eddie Jefferson shut down the gig EARLY some snide audience heckling ripping the pick-up band & his hard post-bopping Alto player Richie Cole an attack from an Avant-Garde aficionado faction.
EJ had spidey sense & threw a safety net over Cole told him to lay out of his party stay put with his Flame actress Brenda Vaccarro who was hanging in D Town with The Alto Madness Man.
Eddie Jefferson hit the Street.
Cheryl Francis painted a gothic tableau: We heard a loud bang. I saw smoke. It was a green Lincoln. I saw fire shoot out of the passenger side Just a big burst of fire came out the window. I kept asking, Where is Eddie?
Leonard Paul Harrell followed Eddie out of the club 53, of Detroit, a dancer & old running buddy of EJ. He viewed the green & chrome Lincoln of Death pull around a Checker Cab & stop.
2 shots close together rang out I SAW THE BARREL OF THE SHOTGUN OUT THE WINDOW FIRING. THE 3rd SHOT HIT EDDIE. HE SAID ‘HUP,’ like that.
I guess the force of the shot turned him to the right & he started running. I looked up to the 4th shot coming to ME. I could only see the barrel of the gun & the person that was holding--- the shadow of the person holding the gun It was a green Lincoln Town Car Light green or dark green? Green like the green in a flower green like a leaf that green Green like the St. Patrick’s day hats? Not that bright. Not that bright. A green leaf. Like a green leaf? Green leaf. That’s all.
BANG BANG BANG BANG Paul hit the bricks yelled “Get down!”
The artist who put words to Eddie Harris’ Freedom Jazz Dance took flight made Last Dance steps 35 feet down an alley made THE BIG JUMP Vamping, Looping, Riffing a funky gurgling New Vocalese fresh for the yank by The Sandman with the Shepherd’s Crook.
I said, Shotgun 4 blasts from the DRIVER Lincoln Continental Late model / Leaf green.
I said, Shot 3 silenced the SINGER put him Out, baby Off the spinning Earth Hey! .
People who liked this also liked
I was a little shy about asking. I thought I might not be able to get one. I called the Apple store and talked with Siri.
I said, “Siri, I’m tired of robogirls. I want something a little different.”
“Do you want a roboguy?”
“Don’t be silly—I like girls. I can’t help it—I’m made that way.”
“I know what you want.”
“Yes—you want a real girl.”
“That’s exactly what I want. I want a real girl.”
“Are you sure?”
“What do you mean?”
“Have you ever had a real girl before?”
“Well, real girls are—unpredictable. I cannot guarantee that you will be happy.”
“Robogirls are predictable. That’s what I’m tired of. Send me a real girl this afternoon.”
“It doesn’t work that way. First, I’ll have to find a real girl who’s interested, and then I’ll have to let her pick the time when she can come.”
“You mean I have to wait?”
“Yes. If I can find one, she will call you. I can send you a robogirl this afternoon. Do you still want a real girl?”
“Yes. I’ll wait.”
Poem of the Week
who have experienced
on a large
i tell raif
i think my
might be dead
haven't seen her
& her car hasn't moved
for two weeks.
you would smell it
passing me a plate
of triangular shaped bread
slathered in jam.
Story of the Week
DARLEEN SQUEELED into the empty spot as soon as the gleaming white Mercedes pulled out. "We got lucky," she told Montana. "Even on a Monday night, this lot is killer."
Montana rolled her big blue eyes. "Whatever."
The eleven year old had better things to do, like text her friends. Incessantly, as if she had a tic. The kid hadn't wanted to shop tonight, but Darleen insisted. This was their first Christmas without Paulie and the girls needed to stick together. Darleen's ex had been nasty lately and mediation had hit a cement wall. Montana wasn't aware how dangerously close they were to losing access to Paulie's vast and unreported wealth.
Montana sighed dramatically as she yanked open the door of the Porsche Cayenne and tumbled out. She didn't pause in her texting.
Darlene checked her face in the rearview mirror. The most recent fat transfer had been wildly successful. She loved her new lips. Grabbing her Gucci bag, she hopped out of the front seat.
Her daughter trailed her into the mall, thumbs flashing on her phone keypad.