Found in a journal I wrote back in 1977

In Paris June 1977

The other day I saw a Jazz trio—Soprano Sax, Banjo and Bass, playing near Le Bon Marche. They were under an overhang and it was raining and many of us crowded under the overhang. No one wanted to be wet. These were all young men, student age or less, full of spirit and passion and full of the blues and they were like nothing I'd heard except maybe on a Sidney Bechet recording. They played the West End Blues beautifully, so beautiful that if Louis Armstrong was alive and was listening he would have had a smile from here to China. My eyes welled up from the beauty of it. Then they played Out of Nowhere. The Bird I thought had played that the best but these street musicians played good enough that the Bird would have accompanied them. They played maybe an hour maybe two hours because I lost track of time and I kept throwing francs in the Sax case. On the 6^th day here, all that suffering of travel and feeling uptight was worth it just to hear these guys play. My spirits were raised beyond buoyancy.

It was unreal. Was I in New Orleans? Chicago? Was it the 1930's? No I'm in Paris, it's 1977 and these are very impressive players. The Soprano sax player was diminutive, no more than 5'3”, thin with short dark hair that hung like bangs on his forehead, black intense eyes and he knew his instrument like he knew his body. When he played he crouched then walked back and forth in time to the music. He was the main soloist. In between solos he sat on a small low ledge and shouted out in a French accent, “yeah, OK!' many times. And he'd clap his hands or he'd growl out words of some sort with a deep guttural sound. Sometimes he'd puff on a cigarette. Sometimes he bantered with the other players and the banjo and bass player wouldn't miss a beat even as they all laughed. The banjo player and the bass player each got solos. It was Jazz in the raw. It could have been completely free. They probably wanted the money but they loved playing, it was obvious, and seemed solely to live for that.

The crowds kept gathering and some were out there in the rain cheering them on and clapping in time to the music. Oh it was an event suddenly, a moment in time to never forget, to be fully human and be able to comprehend all that was going on. All the ugliness of life disappeared as a tune that was probably a Sidney Bechet tune echoed under that overhang and even the Gendarmes who were probably called to break it up stood there with the crowd and clapped. At some point une jeune fille ran up and kissed all the players when they had stopped between songs. And everyone applauded.