Musings & Observations / Barry Halpin

There is no one around who is better than Frank Morgan on the alto saxophone. What comes out of his horn is soulful, full of fire and timeless --

Wynton Marsalis

The function of the artist is to make people like life better than they have before -- Kurt Vonnegut

As I close my eyes and listen to "Summertime," from Frank Morgan's, "City Nights" CD, I am transported back more than 30 years to Venice Beach, Calif., where I first met Morgan at the Sidewalk Cafe. At the time, I was performing with the improv comedy group, Constant Comedy, going to the University of Southern California for a PhD in existential psychology and booking bands and comics at the Sidewalk Cafe.

Morgan -- who died Dec. 14, 2007 -- was soft-spoken and had a fabulous smile. He asked if I could book his jazz combo for a couple of dates and handed me "Introducing Frank Morgan," an album he had recorded back in 1955, when he was 21. At the time, I was only booking rock and folk acts and wasn't sure how jazz would fly at the location.

The fact that his album was recorded 23 years earlier begged the question: What happened with him over the ensuing years? He was candid about filling in the substantial gap in his recording career and spoke of his time in prison and heroin addiction. By the end of our conversation there was no doubt I was going to book his combo.

Morgan's prodigious musical talent was obvious at an early age. He moved to Los Angeles in 1947 and a year later, at the age of 15 was offered a chance to play in the Duke Ellington band. Because of his age, he couldn't legally go on the road, so he ended up playing a couple of school vacation gigs with the band instead.

After the release of his album, which critics raved about, he was being hailed as the "second coming" of his idol and mentor, the great jazz saxophonist, Charlie "Bird" Parker. It was a heavy burden to bear.

Morgan told me that at 17 he thought he had to do heroin to play like Charlie Parker. "I really thought that heroin, bebop and the whole jazz lifestyle went together. Jazz players would rather be dead than not be hip."

Ironically, Parker cried when he found out that his protégé was using. He told Morgan, "That's the last thing in the world I want. Your common sense should have seen how it was treating me."

Charlie Parker died soon after the release of Morgan's album, in a suite at the Stanhope Hotel in New York City, belonging to his friend and patron to many jazz musicians, Baroness Nica de Koeningswarter.

At the time Morgan was playing at the California Club in Los Angeles and when the band heard Bird died, they took a long intermission and he and several of the musicians celebrated Bird's passing by doing some dope. "We proceeded to celebrate Bird's death by doing the very thing that killed him. It would have been better if we'd realized it was time to stop."

Years later when the Baroness de Koeningswarter invited Morgan to visit her at the Stanhope, he figured that since he'd followed in the "junkie jazz lifestyle" footsteps of his idol, it was in his best interest to decline the invitation. I remember Morgan chuckling as he told me the story.

What followed was a roller coaster ride of heroin addiction and jail sentences for possession, writing bad checks and theft to support his $1,000-a-day habit. No matter how hard he tried to kick the habit, the monkey on his back won out.

In the 1960s, he formed a band at San Quentin prison with another addict and alto sax player, Art Pepper. The band included trumpeter Dupree Bolton, pianist Jimmy Bunn, and drummer Frank Butler; incredible players and heroin addicts as well.

"The greatest band I ever played in was at San Quentin. Every Saturday night people would pay $7.50 to hear us play and tour the prison, but really they came just to hear us play. We even wore tuxedos."

Frank was a superstar in prison -- jazz musicians were men of respect inside the prison walls -- and was always receiving gifts of drugs, food, cigarettes and mouthpieces.

I looked forward to Frank playing at the Sidewalk Café; he was a master of bebop and ballads. His combos included such greats as Billy Higgins and Tootie Heath on drums, John Heard and Buster Williams on bass and George Cables on piano and there was no telling who would drop by to jam with him. One night, all in attendance were treated to some brilliant late night sax duets between Morgan and the late great Benny Carter -- raging bebop and sweet lyrical ballads. It was jazz lovers' "Nirvana," where you hoped the music would never stop.

I remember going with Morgan to see the tenor saophonist, Dexter Gordon, at Concerts by the Sea, in Redondo Beach. Gordon had made a ballyhooed comeback in the States after living for 14 years in Europe, and I could tell by the look on Morgan's face how badly he wanted the same success. I turned to him and said: "You've always had the talent; one day soon this will be you."

It wasn't until 1985, after another bid in prison and 30 years after the release of his debut album, that Morgan successfully put his drug demons behind him. He finally realized it was lot hipper to embrace his immense talent than to pursue his old junkie jazz lifestyle. He didn't need heroin to be hip.

Morgan had always feared playing in New York, believing that the audiences would not take to his music. In 1986, his first appearance there at the Village Vanguard proved otherwise. It was a triumph acclaimed by audiences and critics alike; his comeback was complete.

It took more than 30 years, but Frank had finally become himself, no longer wanting to be like Charlie Parker. In 2007, he told the Miami Herald, "I'm trying to be the best Frank Morgan I can be. Still loving Bird, but I'm Frank Morgan now."

He liked to close his shows with "Goodbye," the Benny Goodman sign off theme and frequently would say on stage, "It's great to be alive."

I can still see Frank blowing his alto saxophone on the bandstand at the Sidewalk Cafe. His music was a celebration of life. His legacy is definitely his music, which will continue to make his fans feel that it truly is great to be alive.

Barry Halpin is a prevention specialist for Liberation Programs, a substance abuse health-care agency based in Stamford that provides substance abuse counseling to adolescents and their families in Darien. He's also the director of the county-wide Peer Players, an adolescent theater company. E-mail him at barryhalpin@aol.com.