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Wednesday, November 20, 2019

Johnny Hodges & I


Here's a story that has nothing to do with tea - but I am sure our readers will enjoy it, because it is a planter's story after all!

by Aloke Mookerjee 

Soon after college in Calcutta, I joined the global commodities trading firm Louis Dreyfus, located in Brabourne Road. In India, however, Louis Dreyfus remained a small outfit headed by a Frenchman who resembled Kirk Douglas, or so I thought!

Their main business here was in the domestic trade and export of jute goods – gunny sacks and hessian cloth, which was then popular worldwide as an economical and durable material for bulk packing. While learning the ‘intricacies’ of ‘B’ Twill Bags (with three blue stripes!) and 40”/10oz. hessian cloth, I realised quickly that my work was as dry and unglamorous as the goods Louis Dreyfus was trading in! I decided then that, as a profession, this would not be mine for long. Being barely twenty probably accounted for such definitive views and paved the way for my escape to the Dooars in North Bengal about two years later.

Meanwhile, a regular salary coming in while ‘counting bales’ kept me going rather happily! A friend and I decided to share an apartment we found available on rent. It was tiny but very airy and very bright. We hired some furniture, a small battered fridge and a kerosene cooker. We bought some curtains for the windows and pictures for the walls. I remember the curtains as being rather loud and garish, matching well with our ways then, I guess. We also bought some china plates, cutlery and some cooking utensils. We hired a man servant. This was necessary for while we both loved good food, we were neither inclined nor adequately versed in this esoteric art. As a final and essential touch to the apartment, I set up my precious music system; my father’s old valve radio hooked onto a turntable that played my collection of 12”, 10” & 7” vinyls – all jazz.

Despite the ludicrous (by today’s standards) monthly emoluments and the crushingly dull work schedule (compensated partially by the vivacious Anglo-Indian secretaries spreading their smiles along with a huge wave of scent as they passed by!), life was good. The beer sessions on Saturday afternoons were now more frequent as were the weekend sprees to the famed (and gratefully affordable) Calcutta nightclub ‘Scheherazade’ for Sonny Lobo’s big band jazz sounds! Trincas, Mocambo and Magnolia filled in the other evenings with jazz and the Sunday mornings with their jam sessions.

We had no car but the public transport was reasonably efficient and when occasion demanded, the ubiquitous black and yellow ‘Ambassadors’ with their cheerful ‘Sardarji’ drivers were always available for the feel of being ‘chauffer driven’ to our destination. The distinctive charm of Calcutta had not yet faded.

One such Saturday afternoon was going rather well in our tiny apartment. Beer was flowing with Brubeck thumping (rather loudly) from my LP spinning on the turntable. Despite the absence of Eugene Wright and Joe Morello in this particular concert, ‘Jazz at Oberlin’ remains to be one of my favourites in amongst other Dave Brubeck performances. The high decibel sounds must have penetrated the apartment to reverberate outside with considerable force for suddenly, a loud knock overpowering the din inside, could be heard emanating from the entrance door. Expecting an irate neighbour demanding immediate consideration, I hesitantly opened the door and saw myself facing a white man towering over me. He turned out to be an American of at least 6’6” in height, with two long playing records in his hand.

“Isn’t that Dave Brubeck I hear?” he asked looking down from a great height! “Yes, so it is” I replied. “Well, I have never heard this recital of Brubeck's before. May I come in to listen?”. “Sure, do come in”. Soon, settled in our rather hard straight-backed sofa, he seemed comfortable enough and happy with what he was hearing – evidently for the first time. He then showed me his two LP records. One was Miles Davis’ path breaking ‘Birth of the Cool’ while the other was a Duke Ellington, the name of which I have forgotten.

He introduced himself as Johnny Hodges (not to be confused with the great African American alto saxophonist of many years in Ellington’s band), in the midst of his travels through South East, South and West Asia, primarily with an aim to promote jazz. A few cold beers and more music later, our Johnny Hodges realised full well my love for jazz. A lunch of hot chapatis with a mean mutton curry followed and was greatly relished.

Finally bidding farewell, he came over to me and handed the two records he had been holding on to. “Very happy to do so”, he remarked, adding that the vinyls “would surely remain well cared for in the good hands of a true jazz lover”. That was the first and last time I met our Johnny Hodges.

NB: I had those LPs for many years till my move to Papua New Guinea when I lost all my jazz collection in transit.
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My name is Gowri Mohanakrishnan and I'm a tea planter's wife. I started this blog because one of the things that I wouldn't want us to lose in a fast changing world is the tea story - a story always told with great seriousness, no matter how funny - always true (always), maybe a tall tale, long, or short, impossible, scary, funny or exciting but never dull. There are over 120 stories of tea life here, all written by people who have lived in tea gardens. 

Add this link to your favourites: https://teastorytellers.blogspot.com/ 
Happy reading! Cheers to the spirit of Indian Tea!
 
Meet the writer: Aloke Mookerjee

Here's what Aloke has to say about himself : 'Long retired from tea, but still active in business. Even after all these years, tea remains to live strongly in my thoughts; they were the best years of my life. Other interests? Always loved Jazz music - still do and have written about this incredible genre. Love vintage airplanes (thus my love for Dakotas!) and cars, and intend to make this my next focus.'  Here is the link to all posts by Aloke - Stories by Aloke Mookerjee

Aloke has recently published a book, The Jazz Bug, which is available on Amazon. Read about it here: https://notionpress.com/read/the-jazz-bug?fbclid=IwAR2HjxSU2rY6sq5cX_lzBxJY5oat1i_Z22qKdRRP1Tm77Dqp48B2CAlnGvY 
Listen to Dave Brubeck's 'Jazz at Oberlin':


and here's a short piece, just to get a taste of the music!
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KAlVasHbipo

8 comments:

Venk said...

Remember the HMV player and records I bought from Veco in Mal Bazaar (Mal-Baboo's records shop). I also made a valve amplifier to go with the player in 1963 - I think we also played Jazz in the Grassmore Chota Bangla quite a few times.

Yawar said...

This is a happy/sad story. I wish you had been able to remain in touch with Hodges. Maybe you can unearth him via the internet. I found someone after almost 40 years. Actually two people. From 1980/81 - 2019. Great story, thanks.

V R Srikanth said...

What a story Aloke. Would have loved to visit your digs for the mean mutton carry and to listen to this. Would have probably left very reluctantly as I do now from this story and rush to a rehearsal. Keep em coming. What a tragedy the loss of the precious Vinyls were though.

Aloke Mookerjee said...

I bought my radio, a Telerad with 'piano keys', from Veco in Mal Bazaar. The owner was the brother of Nagrakata Tea Estate Office Clerk so being the Asst Mgr there, I got a special discount and payment in installments. Not quite sure now but I think the radio cost me Rs.400 which I thought was a huge amount! They were good days.

Aloke Mookerjee said...

Thank you. Yes I should really try to locate him.

Aloke Mookerjee said...

Glad you liked it. Thank you.

verusferreira said...

Hi, I am Verus Ferreira from musicunplugged.in a music website. We would live to review The Jazz Bug on our website. Do share the authors contact details so we can get in touch with him. My cell no is 9819510183. Thanks.

Gowri Mohanakrishnan said...

I'd be most happy to do that, Verus. Aloke, please see.