I had a few opportunities to work with tenor saxophonist Zoot Sims during the late 1970s and 1980s. Zoot was perhaps best known as one of the original “Four Brothers” in Woody Herman’s “second herd” big band.
Thinking of him today for no reason, I realized that some of the great players I've been fortunate enough to apprentice with have provided great lessons about playing music and life, without ever saying a word about either. They taught me by example.
One crucial musical lesson occurred when I worked with him for a week at Rick’s Café in Chicago. It was late January or early February, and we experienced record-setting cold that week. As I recall, the high temperatures were below zero; overnight, they would drop to about 17 degrees below zero. It was probably about minus 10 by the time we performed each evening. On the breaks, I would go outside, start my car, and let it run for a few minutes, just to be sure it would start when the night was over.
That week, business was horrible. Nearly everyone stayed home at night, just trying to keep warm. On the weeknights, fewer than a dozen people were in the audience the entire evening. It wasn’t much better on the weekend. The place was dead. Zoot showed up early each evening, suit and tie on, and would retreat to a laundry room behind the bandstand, get his horn out, find a reed he liked, and warm up a bit. As soon as the music started, Zoot’s sound soared. It was so beautiful, full yet mellow. And man, that cat could swing you into bad health! The feeling he played with was so inspiring. One would have thought he played in Carnegie Hall for 2,500 people every night. It contrasted sharply with the almost nonexistent energy coming from our sparse audience.
Zoot frequently played the soprano saxophone—consistently producing a beautiful sound, excellent intonation, and ever-swinging phrasing.
That impressed me greatly at the time and has stayed with me ever since. Jazz musicians like me have lives in many ways like anyone else, facing the ups and downs of everyday life. But one challenge we face each night when we perform is that we cannot bring our problems to the bandstand. The audience has hired us by paying to hear us, and frankly, they don’t care about what may have happened to us that day. They are often there to take a breather from the less pleasant aspects of their own lives.
In the instances I described and others like them over the years, I have learned that one must always play as if there are thousands of people in the audience and deliver 100 percent of whatever they have that day. We must play like it may be our last chance to do so. I have often wondered if other working people feel that way when they show up for work every day.
As a person, I found Zoot to be very mild-mannered and soft-spoken. A keen observer with a dry sense of humor, who resonated with me. He cracked me up several times with a well-placed one-liner that often reacted to something observed in our immediate surroundings. His physical appearance, with his hair combed straight back, his shy smile, and his “old-fashioned” wardrobe, spoke more of the late 1940s than of the current era. But Zoot was entirely comfortable just being himself. Completely unpretentious and unassuming. I don’t think I ever heard him raise his voice or express anger toward anyone. He was his own man.
The Zoot Sims I knew and admired. He taught by example.
It has taken me some time to learn that lesson, but today, more than ever, I feel comfortable being myself and doing my best to be kind to others and behave as a responsible citizen. It often pleases me when I can interact with people who have no idea what I do. I do not need to inform them. I enjoy being who I am, most of the time, at least.
Unfortunately, the apprentice system and mentoring I and many of my peers received from some of the most outstanding jazz musicians of the modern era is over, or so it seems to me. I'm not certain how young musicians entering the profession will find their way. Many will not, without the level of support that I, and so many of my colleagues, have been fortunate to receive.
I have faith that there will be enough musicians in the future who will surely find their way in music and life, through whatever means are available or necessary. Jazz music and its cultural significance shall endure well into the future. It must.
TC
I used to go to Rick’s then, Andy’s as well, and recall see Zoot and Al at the Jazz Showcase, a great performance.
Zoot always looked older than he was, hunched over a bit when he played, slightly swaying to the beat-can’t remember who accompanied him and Al, some of the local greats, I reckon.
His Pablo recordings with Jimmy Rowles, George Mraz and Mousy Alexander are shimmering things of beauty.
I dare anyone to ‘dislike’ his version of Dream Dancing..
An always recognisably gorgeous tone. And when the mood moved him, would sing!
Whitney Balliett, of course, captured it with his usual elegance:
“Sims began as an admirer of Coleman Hawkins and Ben Webster, and came later to Lester Young. His style involved elements of all three.
His tone in the middle register suggested Webster's, and he sometimes used Webster's descending tremolos.
Young's pale, old-moon sound came into view in Sims' high register.
Hawkins underlay his drive, his heat, his need to take the audience with him.
Sims was a consummate melodic improviser. The melody never completely disappeared. You sensed it, no matter how remote or faint; it moved behind the scrim of his sound.”
You’ve painted a lovely portrait of the great Zoot Sims, Mr. Coolman. There is something nice about an artist who finds their stylistic niche, who always plays with a nice sound, and who swings their ass off. It’s to Zoot’s credit that he didn’t succumb to pressures to “fuse” himself with new musical fads. He just stayed true to himself.
I saw Zoot perform only once, when they allowed a few of us students into one of those private jazz parties. Zoot was paired up with a drummer whom I now can’t recall, and jazz accordionist Frank Marocco. No bass player. Zoot seemed dubious at first about an accordion kicking bass. But Frank Marocco was as good as they come. They even burned through Cherokee with the accordion. It was amazing and totally swingin’ !!