Contact!

Buy Now From Author

Safe @ Secure
Credit/Debit Card Site

The Funeral of Jack's Mother

      Aunt Clara looked across at Jack and smiled, causing him to look away in a hurry. He liked her. At least what little contact he had with his aunt gave him warm feelings. Her short, chestnut colored hair was very fashionable, just like her clothing. She looked fresh and smiled a lot. He liked that. He had met her on a few earlier occasions when she visited New Orleans, sometimes with gentleman friends. But, in spite of blood, they were strangers. While he knew his mother didn't approve of the life-style his aunt lived, he knew they loved each other, fondly. If she was one of those prostitutes, it was okay with him, was his thoughts on the matter. He knew what hard times could do to people.

Saint Louis - Jack's New Home

      The sun was just starting to sink behind some low buildings as Jack watched his first sunset from the famous river front community that helped spread the blues and jazz. This music was becoming lost against the popularity of swing, be-bop and what was being called rhythm and blues.
      His excitement was mixed with the expectation of seeing his new home. He arrived quite early on the train and thought he would save his aunt the trouble of picking him up. In fact, he really looked forward to this excursion on his own.
      Jack found his way to the river. He just stood looking out over the shimmering blackness of the water as the night swallowed the river banks. He felt the coolness blow against his face and the shivers run through his body. It was early summer, but a certain rawness was present in the air.
      The distant clang of a buoy brought him back to the moment. It was time to return to the train station and get his luggage. It was time to face Aunt Clara and his new home. Carrying his old clarinet, he had visions of continuing his musical education in school with this instrument and maybe getting a better one someday soon.

Jack sees the winds of change coming

      "Songs?" He looked at her, shaking his head and smiling. "Aunt Clara, these aren't songs. These are symphonies and concertos. I don't know anything about this kind of music."
       She put her arm around his shoulder, gently hugging him. "Oh, my dear nephew, my great little musician. You will! I promise you that. I want the best for you. Jazz is great, I know. The blues . . . well, we have colored piano players in our establishments that play jazz and blues all the time. It's great mood music. I dance to it all the time. But, you're not going to be a nickel and dime man. You're going to play in Carnegie Hall. You wait."
      "Butter and Egg Man!" His voice trailed.
      She stopped and looked at him. "Excuse me? What was that, Jack?"
      "Butter and Egg Man. Not, Nickel and Dime Man. It's a tune."
      Good God, Jack! I swear you have a one track mind. I simply meant that you aren't going to be run-of-the-mill. And , that's not a song, either."

      "You can listen to all the jazz you want," she continued. "But just promise me you'll take some serious piano lessons for me. By the time you are out of high school we can take another look at where you want to be in life. In the meantime, I will give you the money and you go down to the department store tomorrow and buy some of the music you like. Is that fair?"
     He agreed, feeling relieved. Maybe she would forget about this other music, he reasoned. When she hears me play, maybe she'll like it. These were his thoughts, but something told him he had much to learn of her strong will once she was committed to an idea.

      Sunday afternoon, Harris, Aunt Clara's colored chauffeur, and Jack, pulled up in front of a large  old stone mansion in East St. Louis. It was a bordello. Jack had changed his clothes after attending services at Trinity Episcopal Church. His aunt insisted he become close with the Lord. It was not only part of his civilization, as she would call it, but Aunt Clara knew his mother would approve.
      The door opened and a large, colored servant eyed Jack suspiciously. Harris spoke to the doorman, "It's okay, Henry. This is master Jack. Miss Clara's nephew."
      With a nod, Henry bowed and ushered them in. The hallway was large. A huge chandelier hung near the sweeping staircase. It was an elegant place with old, but beautiful Victorian furniture everywhere. Jack was impressed. As he followed Harris into the drawing room he spotted a high back piano opposite a large brick fireplace. He moved to the piano and lifted the cover from the keyboard. Just then, a woman wearing a flowing feathered gown came bouncing into the room. Her face, white as alabaster, was surrounded by long red curls. A large gold cigarette holder was stuck in one corner of her painted mouth as the smoke curled upward in swirling ringlets. She supported it with two fingers.
      "Ahh, you must be Jack," she said, throwing her arms open and giving him a big hug. "Your aunt told me to expect you. I am Greta. Would you like some tea? No, of course not. How about a big, cold root beer and a large piece of chocolate cake?"

      Jack, looking for Harris, opened the swinging kitchen door. Harris was sitting at a large wooden table, talking to one of the help with his coat off. Harris turned away from Jack but not before Jack saw a large, silver gun in a black shoulder holster. This startled him, but he pretended not to notice. Harris slid his coat on and stood up. "Are you ready, Master Jack?"
      "Yes, I think so."
 As they drove back home Harris made mention of the gun; "You understand that I'm also a body-guard for your aunt, don't you?"
      "No, I didn't. Is Aunt Clara in any danger?"
      "Your aunt knows many people and is quite prominent. It's just a precaution. Just the same I think it's best if we don't mention this to anyone. Do you understand, Master Jack?"
      "Yes, I think so. I won't mention it. Have you ever shot anyone?" Jack's curiosity couldn't help the question, but he was almost sorry he asked it.
 A cold stare met Jack's eyes. "Sorry!" Jack exclaimed. The remainder of the drive home was met with silence.

Jack Is Told of The Plan To Send Him To Juilliard

      "Jonathon Dupree?" Jack exclaimed in surprise. "Jonathon?" Where did that come from, Aunt Clara?"
 Clara looked at Jack, half smiling. "Well, dear, Jack is so common. When you progress in this music it would be fitting that we look to a more formal name for you."
      "And what about, Dupree?" Jack replied, seeming a little annoyed.
      Sophia reached across the table and touched Jack's arm, gently. "Your aunt wants to send you to a very great musical conservatory in New York, Jack. If you are accepted, she asked me to look after you and help you get settled. I have said that you are welcome to stay at my apartment. It's large and very comfortable. I would hope that you will accept. Of course, if you would rather be on your own that can be . . ."

Sophia Is Impressed With Jack's Playing

      As Jack began the Rhapsody, slowly, methodically, he stole glimpses in Sophia's direction. He could not lock onto her eyes since he needed his concentration; his watchful eye upon the keyboard. He built upon the notes, the chords, and felt the momentum build as his fingers struck the keys with resounding deliberation - caressing the instrument like a true professional.
      Several minutes into the piece, Clara joined Sophia. Sophia sat on the edge of the chair, ever attentive to Jack's playing. Jack taking notice of this, felt ecstatic. His fingers now grew to a blur as both hands struck hard against the ivories as he plunged into the score with even more rousing excitement.
      "Oh, Jack, my God, Jack . . ." Sophia murmured softly, as she clasped her hands beneath her chin in a twisted fashion and continued listening to his performance with rapt attention.
 Neither Sophia, nor Jack, saw the look on Clara's face as she observed Sophia's enrapture with Jack.
      At the conclusion of the piece, Sophia jumped to her feet, yelling: "Bravo! Bravo! Encore, let's have an encore, Jack!"

Life in New York

The Virtuoso ©
Naples, FL2011