DISCLAIMER

Catro did not greet us, not even an acknowledgment, at anytime during our visit.  not so much as a note of welcome, official or otherwise.  i know he liked jazz, at least the Afro-Cuban variety.  (Latin-jazz? see my blog on that subject.  NARAS take note.)

sadly, i did not travel with Dizzy Gillespie to the home of the late congero Chano Pozo, or to any other abodes such as those of members of the Cuban Ensemble known as Irakere.  the CubaTour busses did get to the Hemmingway House, or so i was told.

FIRST NIGHT @ THE TROPICANA aka MIDNIGHT @ THE OASIS

in all fairness to CubaTour, they were on the case.  not only did they do the tourístas proud during the day but they delivered an evening of entertainment the 1940s and ’50s visitors to Havana would likely have enjoyed: dinner, dancing and a dazzling floor show under the palms at the pool of the world famous Tropicana Night Club.  think “Guys & Dolls” Sky Masterson and Sarah Brown the Salvation Army Lady.  boleros, mambos, conjuntos, montunos, swirling gowns, descargas, multi-colored puffed sleeves, guarachas, strings, brass, charangas, danzónas.  all ribbon-ed (sic) with the underpinning of Afro-Cuban rhythms and percussion sections made up of congas, bongos, clavé sticks, timbales, batás, checkeres, cabasses, maracas (i brought back a touristy pair; see photos below), cowbells, and some shaky things i’d never seen before.

 

                                                  Maracas together at last

(there was a buzz that Fidel might show up.  judging from the length of his pervious speeches i think we dodged a bullet.)

it was after the cruise passengers returned to the Daphne that the real business began.  at a small table under an umbrella at the rear of the swimming pool sat Dizzy Gillespie, David Armram, Ray Mantilla, Stan Getz, a dark-eyed bolero vocalist whose beauty shone through her Army Officer fatigues –Stan looked dangerously close to making a move which might have landed him in prison, or worse– and a couple of cultural attachés in North American mufti.  and some of us reporters.

 

the drinks of choice were colorful exotic rum elixirs and cervesa frio.  cigars were proffered as well.  naturally.  the musicians were blocking out the final night’s concert blast which was to be presented at the Teatro Mella.  visions of Castro finally showing up which danced in our heads, and on our lips, appeared more likely as the Teatro  audience was to be an officials-invitation-only affair.  (more on that in  Chapter 4.)

the reporters at the table, who were just trying to stay awake, gave way to Morphious.  LA Times succumbed first; then Radio Free Jazz; even Getz departed, apparently a cappella, leaving Dizzy, David, Mantilla, the Cuban diplomats, the NY Times, and me.  oh yes.  that Cuban singer also hung out.  i half-heartedly tried my hand at bilingual flirting, my broken Spanglish versus her feigned broken English.  turns out she spoke fluent English as well as French, Italian, German and i’m presuming Russian and Mandarin Chinese.  all i got was a card announcing her latest LP (see photos), which i bought for 5 persos each at the usurious exchange rate of $1 per peso, U.S. doneros only, if you please.  i’m not sure if it was legal, but with a sense of history, i bought as many grupo classico LPs as i could.  (reviews and photos succeeding chapters)  NYT Guy loved boleros so i promised i’d record some for him.  (in retrospect i don’t think he was permitted to buy anything on his own.)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

…

unless they were speaking  in tongues i could detect nothing of political significance.  our mere presence bespoke volumes to that end.  their body language gave nothing away.  if truth be told, i did nod off for a minute.  that devil Cuban rum.  it all unfolded later the next day.  it was already nearly sun-up the next day.

EARS (and now EYES) ONLY

i clung close to my new best friend the New York Times confidante, who, as you may refer to at the close of Chapter 2, told me to hang behind.  something was a-brewin’ and my reporter’s snoopy big nose was itching; it needed scratching.

that said, everything going forward is first-hand, except where noted, and may be posted here for the first time.  there was a time when the expression, “if i told you then i’d have to kill you,” applied.

i spoke at a special presentation to Paquito d’Rivera, ex Irakere, at the National Arts Club in Manhattan.  no one in attendance, not Paquito and his wife Brenda Feliciano. or madre & hermana d’Rivera knew of the forthcoming episode,  ah, i see i have your attention.  read on.

AT LAST!  A RIDE IN A ’57 CHEVY

as the last CubaTour bus pulled away from the dock that morning, NY Times Guy and your intrepid blogster set off on our excellent adventure.  we walked to the main road and hailed a “cab,”  two no-no’s.  the car in question was your classic rock’n'roll ’57 Chevy, two-toned turquoise and white in remarkable running condition.  it was a stick so i didn’t even think of breaking yet another law by asking the female driver if i could drive.  NYT Guy was fluent in Spanish so i don’t know if i would have been understood.  he asked the lady cabbie in Spanish to take us to –are you ready?– Communist Party Headquarters which was in the heart of Downtown Havana.  i understood enough Spanish to get that.  he broke yet another law by offering her U.S. dollars for the ride, which she politely refused.  smart gal.

RED SQUARE

HQ was a small windowless cinderblock bunker probably bulletproof surrounded by flapping red flags.  after proper introductions and examination of our credentials — seems we were expected– we were ushered into an inner office with bare walls save for the photo of Castro where we were greeted by a female functionary in the Chinese military garb favored by Fidel himself: khaki, high-colored couture with ribbons at the breast.

THE DEAL UNFOLDS

incredulously NYT Guy and our host began matter-of-factly discussing things as though they had done the prelims and we were there to ink the deal.  as they spoke in Spanish i began to get the gist of things: NYT Guy and me were to remain in Cuba to write (him and me) and photograph (me) for the Times in New York a “Goings-On-About-Cuba” series which was to use jazz as a lynchpin, of course.  hearsay scuttlebutt was that this was part of a larger plan to reopen a Cuban-American dialog, at least culturally, to be tried in the press, at it were.  now you understand why death threats and Men In Black were the next step.  (a moment please.  was that knock on the door?!)

as i was being sworn to secrecy i quickly thought that i had nothing to go home to.  the divorce (see Chapter 1) was being finalized in Haiti; and my papers and magazines would love such a piece.  but it would be a Times exclusive.  i asked innocently and nonchalantly the only question which popped into my head, “how do we get home when the time comes?”  after translation our host gave us the you’ve-got-us-there shrug.  ”dunno” was the look on her face.  ”we haven’t gotten that far,” was the assumption.  with the Pulitzer disppearing in a cloud over my head, both NYT Guy and i quickly huddled and came back with a “thank you, we’ll let you know” response.

and out into the street we flew never to return to that bunker.  NYT Guy sent his regrets later by courier, i presume after conferring with his bosses.  as things turned out and the U.S. Administration and the attendant political climate changed we made the right decision.

now the fun begins.

- text & photos © arnold jay smith

May 2012

LINKS OF INTEREST

2012 Jazz Journalists Association Awards: www.jjajazzawards.org.  details next post.

Newport Jazz Festival 2012:  www.newportjazzfest.net

 

COMPOSER/ARRANGER/BANDLEADER/KEYBOARDIST/INNOVATOR IS FETED IN NYC.

it’s early 1976.  i would be interviewing for Down Beat one of the  great heroes of this music in his loft apartment in the former Western Electric laboratory and warehouse in the Far West Village called Westbeth.  (the “Beth part is for Bethune St.)  Gil Evans lives here with his family, wife Anita and sons Noah and Miles, the former named for a naval officer of note; the latter for a navigator of other notes.  i am all atwitter.

the shy Evans braces himself for this rare encounter –he did not grant interviews often– with cigarettes giving off a distinct aroma of burning electrical wire, and a blue haze.  i mention this because the interview does not get referenced in the otherwise complete bio by Stephanie Stein Crease.  i recently broached the subject with Anita who said that a lot was lost in that haze.  my editors, however, thought it important enough to make it a cover story, an honor to its veteran subject and its neophyte author.  (you may find it at www.downbeat.com, or www.gilevans.com or by Googling me.)

the three of us rambled through years of history: the early arrangements for Claude Thonhill, the equally seminal “Birth of the Cool” sessions, his own big bands, the standards albums, the Miles Davis orchestrations, and on into the early experiments with electric and electronics, the rock innovations, and finally the music of Jimi Hendrix, “Svengali,” and beyond.

in a breathtakingly compleat week in May 2012 in the Apple, Gil Evans was celebrated on the Centenary of his birth.  there were no fewer then four nights, three sets each. at Jazz Standard, and a reunion concert at the High Line Ballroom.

the Standard’s Orchestras –yes there were a smattering of strings– performed four periods in Gil’s multifarious career: the Claude Thornhill Band, the 1950′s band which recorded “New Bottle Old Wine” –one veteran musician asked “don’t you love that title?”– and others which were re-workings of jazz standards the Evans way; the third night was dedicated to “The Individualism of Gil Evans.”  the final evening featured the arrangements for vocalists Helen Merrill and Astrud Gilberto.  all were immaculately researched, transcribed and arranged by Ryan Truesdell, a truly masterful undertaking, discovering new charts as he dug.  they were given loving treatment with the encouragement and cooperation of the Evans family.

if there was an omission it might have been the Impulse! years’ “Out of the Cool,” and “Into The Hot” with the classic “La Nevada.” more on that later.

i missed the opening night at the Standard, but i spoke to Gil’s last assistant, Maria Schneider, who was so enthralled that she broke from her usual articulate demeanor.  ”it was “[epithet] fantastic.  i nearly [epithet] my pants.”  that from the usually demure multi-award winning composer, arranger and bandleader.

personally, i do not have a fav Gil Evans period; they each had their particular compositional genius.  but i can understand Schneider’s enthusiasm as Gil’s early period with the Thornhill organization was quietly unique.  he was one of Thornhill’s phalanx of arrangers which included a teenaged Gerry Muliigan as well.  they were to reunite for the “Birth of the Cool.”  i continue to use the Evans chart of Charlie Parker’s “Anthropology” as an example of “Rhythm” changes and as a transition from Swing to Bop in my classes.

i could wax romantically about the Gil Evans mystique, as i did in the heavily edited Down Beat piece, but we must move on to the performances.

THE GIL EVANS CENTENARY PROJECT @ JAZZ STANDARD: NIGHT 2

the recordings which were celebrated were “New Bottle Old Wine” and “Great Jazz Standards.”  as in all Evans recordings each has its own personality not unlike the wine alluded to.  the pair had been reissued as a Blue Note double LP “Pacific Standard Time” decades ago.  Gil told me that he purposefully chose tunes from artists and genres which would challenge both him and the listener.  the soloists were his contemporaries such as Cannonball Adderley, on Jelly Roll’s Kiing Poter Stomp, which remained in the band’s book later with Davd Sanborn as soloist, Don Redman’s Chant of the Weed, Lil Hardiin Armstrong’s Struttin’ With Some Barbecue, Louis’ solo vehicle on Joe King Oliver’s Davenport Blues, Broadway pop fare Cole Porter’s Just One of Those Things, Nobody’s Heart, Charlie Parker’s bebop Bird Feathers, a medley of Lester Young’s Lester Leaps In, Thelonious Monk’s Round Midnight and Dizzy Gillespie’s and Chano Pozos’s Manteca, and the recent;ly uncovered premiere, a full band arrangement of Look To The Rainboiw.  only the rhythm section backed Astrud Gilberto on the vocalist’s recording with Gil.  Wendy Gillis was the vocalist here.  as Truesdell tells it seems the band members didn’t make the original session.

always aural color.  it’s what gave Gil Evans’ arrangements their uniqueness.  he incorporated and featured tubas, French horns, bass trombones and baritone saxes in his sections and as solo instruments.  almost commonplace now thanks to him.

at Jazz Standard there were solos from the reeds: Steve Wilson and Dave Pietro tenor and alto saxes, and alto and tenor flutes, and Scott Robinson baritone sax and bass clarinet.

Greg Gisbert’s trumpet solo on Davenport drew cheers.  it was Johnny Coles on the original Evans recording.

the rhythm section of Frank Kimbrough, whose leaning pose at the piano belied the difficulty of Gil’s single note phrases,  Frank Vignola, guitar, whom i caught studying the parts when i arrived.  he told me later that “this stuff is tough, man.”  Lewis Nash’s drums, key written parts of Evans’ charts, powered the band.

and then there was Rufus Reid!  the veteran bassist was not merely a part of the rhythm section.  what with Gil’s writing he added tops not bottoms to the ensemble.

THE STANDARD: NIGHT 3

the personnel changed slightly for “The Individualism of Gil Evans.”  Robinson’s bari sax was out; a bassoon and two French horns were in.  added was a new instrument to me, a tenor violin.  tuned like a normal violin only an octave lower, it was closer in size to a cello.  it was difficult to find Truesdell said.  but find it he did.  ”maybe i’ll use it sometime again,” he mused.

THE CD

the selections were all from the new CD by Ryan Truesdell and the Gil Evans Centennial Project (Artists House).  it has a long-winded, but descriptive title: “Ryan Truesdell Presents Centennial, Newly Discovered Works of Gil Evans.”  the 10 tracks are all presented here for the first time.  some were sketches others full blown arrangements just unrecorded for one reason or another, principally because the writer considered them beneath his high standards.  proof in this case being in the hearing even Evans’ “unworthiness” is better than most others’ best.

had i not heard Punjab at the Standard [see below] prior to hearing the CD version i would have picked it as the most impressive find.  but the reworking of Look To The Rainbow, the title of the Evans arranged Astrud Gllberto LP, similarly exposed at the club is my pick for the most beautiful chart.  with Luciana Souza on vocals Evans’ underneath-it-all harmonies are just breathtaking.  and it’s in my favorite sequenced spot on the CD, a ballad as a closer.  mixing a reworking of the rhythmic patterns, a bossa beat by the drums –Gil’s intention– and its original waltz from the Broadway show, “Finian’s Rainbow,” by the bass –Truesdell’s idea?– and you have everything you need for the perfect confection.

the orchestra listed some three dozen players not all necessarily playing at the same time.  there were,  however, multiple horns and bassoons.  it had to be Truesdell’s “eureka” moment when he discovered the Gil Evans lead sheets, not unlike Gunther Schuller’s when he found Charles Mingus’ “Epitaph,” or someone discovering Stravinsky scribbles.

another bauble is Who’ll Buy My Violets a quietly reworked Cuban tune by José Padilla with English lyrics by Ray Goetz.  this gem is so beautifully orchestrated that it is unimaginable Gil consideed it secondary.

[after appearances in Rochester and Umbia the Centennial Project Orchestra will be at the Newport Jazz Festival Sun., Aug. 5, 2012.]

at the Standard Night 3 the orchestra opened with a shuffle-rhythm-ned Spoonful.  solos were from piano, horn and alto sax.  but the feature here is the infectious repetitive rhythmic pattern, an Evans-ian signature a la La Nevada.

El Toreador was, as you might imagine, Spanish-tinged.  John Lewis’s Concorde, taken from an M.J.Q. LP of the same name, was faithful to the rondo in which it was written.

the concluding Punjab, which opens the CD, was for me clearly the feature of the set.  with added tabla and Kimbrough playing inside the piano there was a decisive air of India.  the tenor violin solo added to the aural color.

A MOMENT IN MUSICAL HISTORY @ THE HIGH LINE BALLROOM

the personnel listed some 22 musicians.  Noah told me that he called an additional 14 or more, “but they were otherwise occupied.”

Noah’s email explained why La Nevada, my hands-down favorite Gil Evans, was not included. “[at rehearsal] i scratched it as it was too ambitious.  [i] had it as the opener so it had to be great. [i.e., perfect.]”

he went on to write that the “whole idea was to do the band from post ’60s electric band.”  but he also wanted to incorporate a wider program with what he calls the GEO, Gil Evans Orchestra.

the Ballroom was a packed SRO madhouse of Evans fans and musicians.  some GEO alums “couldn’t be turned away,” said Noah.  as you would expect it ran into overtime.

it was a GEO dreamband.  from the Trinity Church “surprise” recording which became “Svengali” [see below] through Monday nights at Sweet Basil.  most turned out, and they came to play.

“Svengali” –the title is an anagram of “Gil Evans” by Gerry Mulligan– was the Jimi Hendrix album.  it was recorded at Trinity Church in downtown Manhattan.  i wandered into the church that afternoon unsuspecting.  the echo made it almost impossible to discern the  instruments, especially the electric ones.  i was told that it was not originally intended to be an LP.  Gil had asked some of us if what we heard was good enough to release.  the echo seemed to add flavor to the event.  after all it was Hendrix.

i arrived at the High Line about halfway through from Clem DeRosa’s Memorial at St. Peter’s.   it was like being temporally transported to Sweet Basil, Trinity Church and beyond.  Paul Schaffer was the m.c.; Noah the host; Miles led the band, or tried to [see personnel below], through 16 screaming selections which included soloists like Howard Johnson, tuba and baritone sax, Jimmy Cobb, drums, Lew Soloff and Jon Faddis, trumpet, Delmore Brorwn and Gil Goldstein, keyboards, Airto, and Gerry Gonzales, percussion, Chris Hunter, alto sax.  and those are just the people i saw and heard solo.

 

the rest of the band were Billy Harper, tenor, Alex Foster, alto, John Clark, French horn, Bob Stewart, tuba, Tom “Bones” Malone, Dave Bargeron, Dave Taylor and Conrad Herwig, trombone, Mark Egan and Will Lee, ebg, Kenwood Denard and Bruce Ditmas, drums.  and an old friend on guitar Ryo Kawasaki, who flew in from his home in Estonia for the occasion.  ”i couldn’t miss this one more time for Gil,” he told me over lunch later in the week.

i remember the young percussionist Sue Evans being constantly asked if she were Gil’s relative.  she finally gave up and took to saying, “yes.  i’m his mother!”  it was that kind of band.

 

OTHER NEWS:

MILES DAVIS/EDIF PIAF FRENCH-AMERICAN JOINT POSTAGE STAMP ISSUE

Where: RUBIN MUSEUM THEATRE

When: TUES., JUNE 12,11 am.

Link: www.usps.gov

JAZZ JOURNALISTS ASSOCIATION 2012 AWARDS GALA

Where: THE BLUE NOTE JAZZ CLUB

When: WED., JUNE 20, 4-6pm

Tix: MEMBERS: $60; GA: $100.

Link: www.jjajazzawards.org

OTHER LINKS OF INTEREST

www.downbeat.com

www.gilevans,com

www.ryantruesdell.com

www.GilEvansProject.com

www.newportjazzfest.net

- © arnold jay smith

May 2012

 

PASSAGE TO HAVANA

at this point in time (May 2012)  musicians casually mention they have been to Cuba.  some understate that they have made the trip several times.  it’s so much easier now to get there from Canada and Florida.  i understand there are charters from Texas as well.

the key word is “charter.”  the visits have to be planned group excursions either for charity or religious groups.  the Greek Registry S.S. Daphne got there without any of that.  of course we had the credentials from the Prez. although the spirit of Lester Young was aboard is was the other Pres Jimmy Carter who, shall we say, “sponsored” us,

there is another way: musicians exchange.  since our trip in 1977 and for the decades thereafter Irakere’s Chucho Valdes has been holding his Jazz Festival in Havana inviting musicians and the press from here, there and everywhere.  he’s missed me so far.  sometimes we respond in kind by allowing Cuban players into the U.S.   (more on Irakere in Chapter 3.)

as for this cruise we were pioneers.

herewith the cumulative Nordamericano personnel (in no particular order):

John Birks “Dizzy” Gillespie, trumpet, vocals; Stan Getz, tenor sax; Earl “Fatha” Hines, piano; David Amram, flutes, percussion, french horn, piano, ocarinas, ju-ju beads, other stuff; Joanne Brackeen, piano; Ray Mantilla, congas; Rodney Jones, guitar; Rudy Rutherford, clarinet, tenor sax; Billy Hart, drums; Eddie Graham, drums; Mickey Roker, drums; Benjamin Franklin Brown, bass; John Ore, bass; Ron McClure, bass; Joe Ham, percussion; Marva Josie, vocals.

also on board was the then unknown guitarist-turned-producer Ry Cooder gathering information and interviews for his forthcoming Buena Vista Social Club archival documentary.

 

THE UNEASY THRILL OF IT ALL

as i mentioned in last month’s Chapter 1 the import of our destination was not wasted on any of us.  señors e señoras, Cuba si!  but that was not the end of it.  as there was no conversational history between the two countries since 1959 we did not know what awaited us or how we would be received.  the passengers were not briefed as to what to expect from the indigenous personnel, or the military constabulary, neither of which we were to engage.  we were to stick to CubaTour and not veer off the course that was laid in.

sounded like a plan, for the tourists.  some of us had other ideas. personally i wanted to ride in –if not drive– the vintage 1950s and 1960s automobiles.  (Cuba was not getting new cars from anywhere at the time but they did have parts cannibalized from what had been abandoned.)

THEY CAME TO PLAY…

in the meantime the entertainment as the ship steamed between New Orleans and Havana was absolutely superb.  no one scrimped on their performances. they were just as excited.  i can verify; i have the tapes, and my oral/aural notes..

Fatha Hines brought an interestingly eclectic group, for him.  his sets had been the same for many years: the standards, the tunes he played with Louis, some old originals such You Can Depend On Me, and Second Balcony Jump.  only the instrumentation changed.

Rutherford, a major reed voice in his big band days, was in great shape, chops-wise.  his Goodman-esque attack on clarinet thrilled the dancing patrons and his big-voiced tenor harkened to those J.A.T.P. challenges.

bassist Ore, a Monk veteran, held up the bottom.  but it was drummer Graham, a new name to me, who was crisp and strong.  his credentials were Vegas, which is where Fatha found him.  he also held my curiosity in that he had a fine German Uher portable tape machine, all i had was an interview device.  i utilized his technical prowess and got some excellent recordings.

vocalist “Marvelous” Marva Josie, as Earl introduced her, possessed a  bluesy voice with which Fatha funkily comped.

…AND REPORT

in addition to this reporter/photographer there were representatives from the Los Angeles Times, the New York Times, Radio Free Jazz –soon to become JazzTimes– and a smattering of some other publications.  in retrospect, there was a rather small contingent of members of the Fourth Estate considering the potentially long-term effect.

THE MYSTERIOUS COUPLE

this premiere set belied the tension on board.  the audience seemed to be preoccupied with the couple in the rear who were looking more like Ingrid Bergman and Paul Henreid every minute.  would Bogie burst through the door demanding Fatha to “Play it again”?  whatever “it” was.

and there were whispers about their presence.  they looked obviously more than tourists especially in his white dinner jacket and her dinner-with-the-captain suit.  my noir imagination again was running rampant.  Bogie didn’t burst and Fatha didn’t play it even once,  so we awaited the next group.

THE BANDS PLAY ON…

Getz’s rhythm section was his then band of regulars.  Brackeen was still a relative newcomer to the scene but it was clear she wouldn’t be for long.  her attack was percussive and deliberate.  no Bill Evans wannabe she.  Getz was obviously very satisfied at what she was feeding him and responded accordingly.

Joanne and i were already well-acquainted.  she and two other pianists, Nina Sheldon and Jill McManus, alternated nightly at a bar called the Surf Maid on Bleecker St. around the corner form that first apartment of mine in the Village. (see Ch. 1)  i sat in on brushes played on a 32mm film can, which i still have.

when asked at a recent New School panel about what she remembered most of her career, the first thing Brackeen mentioned was “my trip to Cuba in 1977.”

Hart, who was also aboard with Getz,  and i have reminisced many times about the trip.  it has left indelible impressions on all of our psyches.

SITTIN’ IN

Getz, who had already filled his coffers with bossa nova, was delighted to have Mantilla, who was aboard with Amram, come by and play his “pickle barrels” with him.  (That’s what Ray Barretto called his congas.)  it was the first time the two had met; in fact, Getz mispronounced Ray’s last name.  you know the rest.

[aside: what was our couple doing now?  they certainly weren't paying attention to the performnces, whispering to each other and all.  focus, Arnold, focus.]

…AND ON

Dizzy had no problem fielding then expanding his team of Jones, Brown, Roker and Ham.  at the finale of Diz’s set old recording buddy Getz sat in as did Amram on french horn and other musical accoutrements.  Mantilla became Gillespie’s Chano Pozo surrogate dueling partner for the Cuban selections, Manteca, Con Alma and the like.

celebraçiòn!  we were percolating.

except for Mantilla Amram’s set was a one-man band demonstration of this multi-talented individual.  David announced that he was already at work in his stateroom composing a piece which would be premiered in Havana for the invitation only select crop gala concert.  David didn’t know then how gala this concert was to become.

there were some worrisome, especially for this journey, goings-on in that cabin which i will take to my grave never to be divulged.  suffice it to say that between cabin and stage some information was lost to oblivion.

LAND HO!  [OY!]

our first glimpse of the Cuban Island was surprising.  we knew that the  buildings which were largely supported by the U.S. –dare i say Family-run gambling interests for the corrupt Cuban governance, think “The Godfather”– but to see a modern skyline was kind of off-putting.  i expected quaint, old edifices.

seems we were on the wrong side of the island.  we had sailed under a radio blackout –remember, we weren’t supposed to be here– so we had to rely on flag signals, which were hoisted aloft to announce,”it’s ok; we’re here on a peace mission.  we mean you no harm.”  or something.

too late.  were those gunboats coming towards us?  they were indeed.  PT boats armed to the teeth.  in two languages it was announced that we were about to be boarded.  the “have your papers ready,” pronouncement sounded ominous.

our mystery couple had surreptitiously disappeared.  or had they?.

INTERROGATION

things grew fuzzy.  we heard of a commotion in the lounge but we were asked to stay in our cabins.  no photos.  i had a long lens the clicking of which caught their attention.

 

from what i could make out there was a table of men in fatigues asking questions of our couple, still unidentifiable.

 

crew and passengers were getting testy, champing at the bit, as it were.  clearly this wasn’t what we banked on.

after some time immigration left, with the couple in tow.  we never saw them again as thy did not return with us.  the Daphne was escorted properly into Havana Harbor past the stentorian El Morro Castle.

finally, we disembarked.

SHILLS

what happened next was a scene from Fellini.  outside the pier were throngs of cheering citizenry into which Dizzy, disobeying orders, charged with me close behind camera at the ready.

 

some were carrying Down Beat mags, which was suspicious in that the cover was of Gato Barbieri, an Argentine.  no one was there to answer my queries of why him and not Dizzy.

as it turned out the people were shills, workers given the day off with orders to be there.  they didn’t know Dizzy –who had already cadged a Cuban cigar– from a flatted ninth.  the photo of me (below) was taken by him with my camera; he had pushed me into the crowd.

 

all the while we were being closely observed.

 

we were herded into CubaTour busses and taken on a tour of the Island, the landmark buildings, the Civic Center, a pristine white sand beach with happy families bathing in the blue-green Carib.  this playa was the only spot where we were allowed to exit the bus, but no mingling.  bo-ring, save for the vintage cars.

WAKE-UP CALL

it was to be the last time for CubaTour and me.  seems a New York Times  reporter i had met late that first night at the Daphne’s lounge bar was looking for a music knowledgeable photojournalist for a special assignment.  he called my cabin early the next morning saying, “Feign oversleeping and miss the bus.”  and hung up.

Chapter 3 in a fortnight.

- photos & content © arnold jay smith

May 2012