Joe Segal ran those things with his wife and a couple of his kids helping.
I arrived about 90 minutes early. Joe met me at the door and said something like "Great,
someone who knows something. Prestige wants this recorded, and I hired an
engineer but I'm here all alone and I have to work the door. Will you
take charge of the recording?" I later found out there was a big family
fight and as a result they all stayed away.
I look inside to find my old friend Leon Kelert fiddling with a tape
machine. Leon was some sort of electrical engineer, trad band fanatic,
record collector and proprietor of Blackbird Records. He had a semi-pro
Concord tape machine and had recorded a few dixie dates for his own
label. Leon was in over his head and knew it. He was as happy to see me.
The recorder was on the right edge of the stage, no playback facilities and only a
pair of headphones. Since the sound of the band would overpower the headphones,
I decided my best chance was to have as thorough a soundcheck as I could get for
balances and just watch the VU meters. Oh yeah, I moved the recorder off the risers
and set it on a folding chair or something.
The show was 3 tenors - Jug, Dexter and Don Byas. Joe told me we would not
be recording Byas since Don and Prestige had not come to terms. The format was a
continuous program of tenors rotating in quartet and quintet formats,
sort of "round robin" style. Because of the format, Joe had hired 2
rhythm sections, or they would have played for hours at a time.
The place was packed with a rowdy Chicago crowd and Byas took to
the stage and announced there were 2 thieves at the edge of the stage and
asked the audience to police us while he was on playing. This became an
ongoing "joke" throughout the day and by the end of the evening Byas was
plying me with Courvoisier back at the bar, and exhorting me to punch
him in the stomach so I could see just how tough he was.
We rolled tape when the other guys played, both afternoon and night. I
watched the dials and Leon sat there with his headphones, shaking his
head from side to side. In the evening, during a fantastic version of
"Lonesome Lover Blues" (or what passed for it) a drunk tripped over the
power cord and unplugged the machine. At the end of the piece, a delighted Jug,
wiping his brow with a bar towel, looked over at me and said
"How's it goin' fellas?". I held up 2 fingers, he stared at me for a few seconds
and turned to the mike. Then Jug said "the man says we have to do it again".
Dexter chuckled and the crowd went wild.