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I really loved him.
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It broke my heart, but there was nothing I could do. And when I read about his death in the paper, I jumped up and screamed.
But we did have to turn our back and sneak bites from the food. Clark had names for just about everyone. Rhythms that vibrated the floor.
Food also provides material for several Terryesque zingers. The ninety-one-year-old jazz legend had help pulling it all together from his wife of 22 years, Gwen Terry, who not only saw him through this project but stood by him during a perfect storm of medical challenges that intruded on but never fully thwarted his busy life as a performer, teacher, and goodwill ambassador. Harmonies with ebbs and flows that almost lifted me right out of my chair.
February 15, It began with a telephone call. At first he sounded tired and groggy, having just returned, he told me, from L. When he asked to hear the music over again, it was as if Wardell had come back to life again long enough to formally introduce us. It was the rocks in the desert that broke his neck.
I walked closer and looked and discovered that it was a person. He had everything going for him.
Half-expecting to encounter an answering machine or a protective spouse, I was startled when the man himself answered the phone. Dorothy showed me the death certificate.
With Miles, who would survive to have a spectacular career, Clark could at least do something about it, so he helped him up, took him into a restaurant, bought him some breakfast, walked him back to his own hotel, and put him to bed before going out for a couple of hours. It was Miles Davis! Thinking back to that stunning moment, Clark surely flashed on the fate of Wardell Gray.
The sounds of trains, whistles, birds, footsteps, climaxes, cries. In fact, Clark Terry went on to do a great deal, setting an example by abstaining, even when users tried to force it on him, and by helping enrich the future of jazz through teaching and working with generations of young musicians.
I shared a moment with Clark Terry nine years ago. He was such a conscientious person. I was writing a piece about a November recording session by the Count Basie small group on which Clark played trumpet.