By Myra Chanin . . .
I first visited Florida as a new mother in the 1980s. We drove down accompanied by our little darling, Steven, a toddler whose possessions filled the entire trunk of our car. We were expecting to spend a glorious week sharing my in-laws’ retirement quarters in a South Beach oceanfront hi-rise. More precisely, we ended up packed together in their 13th-floor one-bedroom apartment. Its teensy balcony offered a glimpse of the Atlantic Ocean through my right eye and the beginning-to-be-gentrified South Miami Beach on my left.
One might ask why I accepted this invitation with nary a question nor qualm? Because Bubbie assured me she’d transition into a built-in babysitter upon our arrival—and by God, she did. Too late did I realize her invitation came with a curse. Bubbie was no threat to Julia Child in the culinary department and bought ingredients my mom would have thrown in the trash. Fortunately, I was willing to shop for food and prepare breakfast and lunch for us all, so long as I could kiss my little darling goodnight and run off with my big darling to dine at some surprisingly delicious ethnic dining room and end the night dancing with him under the stars.
At that time, South Beach’s aging lindy-hoppers could choose between three city-subsidized senior center ballrooms, named after the street on which each was located: 10th Street, 23rd Street and 79th Street. Each one was open on non-conflicting nights. The entrance fee was the same for all—one quarter, which according to Google would be, tada!, equal to 92 cents in today’s pennies. 79th Street was the most romantic destination. Its open-air configuration allowed dancers to revel in moonglow, while sensuous ocean breezes caressed our bare skin. Whoo! Whoo! Most of the local musicians to whom we swung and swayed above the waist, and to whose Latin rhythms we occasionally ground our nether parts, had been sidemen for Glenn Miller, Benny Goodman, Artie Shaw, and the Dorsey Brothers. They played melodies from the Forever Hit Parade to which my husband and I responded as if we heard the beat of two different drummers. He considered himself the reincarnation of Fred Astaire but had trouble counting 1-2-3, 1-2-3, and insisted on fox-trotting when the band played a waltz. I was only comparable to Ginger Rogers when she wasn’t encircled with feather boas. No matter. For two glorious weeks, Bubbie read and reread “Good Night, Moon” to her delighted grandson while his Dad and Mom happily danced the nights away.
These memories flooded my heart and soul when Kyle Prescott, the smiling, tuxedoed conductor/FAU music professor led the 17 musicians in The Florida Wind Symphony Jazz Orchestra into the first downbeat of Glenn Miller’s biggest hit, “In The Mood.” The arrangement sounded exactly as it did on my old 78 rpms, while my senior citizen tootsies tap-tap-tapped on the floor like they did when we were all Sweet Sixteen.
Dr. Prescott, an FAU music professor, used a variation of the phrase from Cabaret’s Master of Ceremonies (employed to describe the half-dressed female musicians in the Kit Kat Klub’s band), “each and every one a virgin.” Prescott said each and every one of his handsome, beautifully dressed musicians attired in dark suits, black shirts and gold ties was a virtuoso, and they proved his evaluations correct with every note they played as soloists.
Prescott just loves the music and his musicians. He always has a look of utter delight on his face, reveling in his luck: being paid to do work he would pay to do. He lifts his hand, then brings it down as Glenn Miller’s biggest hit floods the auditorium, with Prescott swinging his body to the rhythm. Curious as to whether Glenn Miller actually composed his biggest hit, I asked Siri, the Librarian of Congress who is lives in the iPhone in my handbag about that and learned that “In the Mood” was based on an instrumental written in 1930 by two trumpet players, Joe Garland and Wingy Malone, titled “Tar Paper Stomp.” Lyrics for “In the Mood,” came from the same Andy Razaf who supplied Fats Waller with the lyrics to “Ain’t Misbehavin’,” “Honeysuckle Rose,” “The Joint is Jumping” and “Keeping out of Mischief Now.” Prescott displayed Glenn Miller’s sweet side on the tender tune, “Moonlight Serenade.” That was followed with interim remarks about Miller’s life, then introducing another Miller hit, “Tuxedo Junction.”
Next Prescott moved on to introductory remarks about the Dorsey Brothers, followed by the band playing Tommy Dorsey’s “Opus #1” and Jimmy Dorsey’s “Oodles of Noodles,” which Prescott believes should be considered unplayable. It was knocked out of the ballpark by Kyle Mechmet, FAU Professor of Saxophone. “Hawaiian War Chant” followed, and the set ended with the Harry James arrangement of “You Made Me Love You,” another very sweet song. The second act included Artie Shaw, represented by “Begin the Beguine,” and the King of Swing, Benny Goodman, who went “Stompin’ at the Savoy.”
I found it curious that Prescott introduced and praised each musician after each solo but neglected to mention the woman who played the entire night on the bass. I was ready to berate him for his misogyny when, near the very end of the program, he told us that she was celebrating her 28th wedding anniversary the following day. It struck me as strange that he would mention such a personal event for someone he found unworthy of mention . . . until he added with a big smile on his face that he too was celebrating his 28th wedding anniversary the following day. They both had the same last name. And the same anniversary! What a splendid ending to an upbeat evening, where the audience rewarded the performers with several standing ovations.
All three performances of this concert were sold out, but they’ll be back at FAU in 2024, God willing. So, keep a lookout for this show next year and be sure to grab tickets to a real delight. They may move to a venue with space for dancing.
The Florida Wind Symphony Jazz Orchestra performed on July 9 at Florida Atlantic University (FAU) in Boca Raton, Florida.
