Bourbon Street Rock
The lights went dim in Preservation Hall as the band got into position.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome tonight to Preservation Hall!” called the Master of Ceremonies. “Jazz has been played here every single day of every year since 1961, and we have no intention of stopping. Through those doors have passed Jazz legends such as Emma Barrett, Billie Pierce, and George Lewis. Why, before use today may be the Jazz heroes of tomorrow.”
She paused. “But enough from me. Please welcome the Preservation Hall Jazz Band!”
The lights came up, and the band launched off into In the Mood. But to everyone’s surprise, who was sat at the piano but-
“Look!” called Tender. “It’s Babs Seed!”
And indeed, it was. Babs Seed at the piano, thumping out the chords with precision, and maintaining a walking bass with precision. She even put down some seriously impressive solos too.
The band played a mixture of happy and sad tunes, including the old classic St. James Infirmary Blues. Though it was initially strange hearing the styles of New Orleans and New York blending together, eventually it became the most natural thing in the world.
But the concert came to its end with two old classics. “First,” the band leader said, “we take requests. Check the board over there.”
A fellow raised his hand, and handed over a dollar bill, which the band leader put in the group pot. “Do you know what makes this next one special?” he said.
“It’s an American classic?” somebody answered.
“No. It’s special because it’s been paid for.”
Placing his trumpet down, he signalled the others, and began to sing.
“Amazing grace! How sweet the sound
That saved a wretch like me!
I once was lost, but now am found;
Was blind, but now I see.
’Twas grace that taught my heart to fear,
And grace my fears relieved.
How precious did that grace appear,
The hour I first believed!”
For the last verse, he signalled everyone to join in. “C’mon folks! Bring the house down!”
The audience stepped to their feet, and made a most melodious sound.
“When we’ve been there ten thousand years,
Bright shining as the sun,
We’ve no less days to sing God’s praise
Than when we’d first begun.”
Once they had finished, the band leader smiled. “Never gets old,” he laughed. “But we really have to close with a N’awlins classic. Ever heard of the Saints?”
The crowd cheered.
“I think it only appropriate our guest get the honour of lead vocals.”
Babs glanced over, trying to mask the sweat on her forehead. True, it was very hot in there, but she wasn’t sure her voice was suited to this particular piece of music.
But it was too late for any of that, as the band leader signalled them to play. Babs smiled, opened her mouth and simply let it flow;
“Oh, when the saints go marching in
Oh, when the saints go marching in
Oh Lord I want to be in that number
When the saints go marching in.”
This went on for many verses together, then suddenly the clarinettist shouted “Call and response! Come on people!”
“Oh, when the Saints!”
“Oh, when the Saints!”
“Go marching in!”
“Go marching in!”
Oh, when the saints go marching in,
Oh Lord I want to be in that number,
When the saints go marching in.”
It sure was a night to remember. The crowd roared and cheered as the players took their bows.
“Thank you, thank you! We hope you’ll come back and see us again someday!”
Outside, the friends mobbed Babs.
“You were awesome!” cried Silverstream, in her typical excitable manner.
“Is there anything you can’t do?” asked Tender.
“Hopefully not,” Featherweight laughed, “or else we’d be down a player.”
“Maybe we should organise our own jazz festival,” Raindrops suggested.
“Or perhaps Billy Joel,” Babs noted.
“You are the Entertainer!” Tender began.
“Oh dear,” Raindrops groaned.
Back in their hotel room, Babs set her laptop up for another Skype call.
“Hello dear! How are ya?”
“Couldn’t be better. I’ve added my name to the list of those who’ve played at Preservation hall.”
“What?”
“The piano player went down, so I gotta chance to show ‘em what I can do.”
“Maybe we should rename her Billy Seed.”
“Dear,” said Mosely, "Billy is not a girl’s name.”
“Well, it’d be an improvement on Bar-”
“No!” Babs called. “Don’t say it.”
“We won’t dear. You get some film of the streetcars?”
“I’ll be doin’ a driver’s eye view tomorrow, I hope.”
“We won’t keep you. See ya tomorrow!”
“See ya!”
After closing the connection, Babs got changed for bed, and let sleep take her to the land of dreams.
The next morning proceeded much like the previous one, just there was salmon this time. After a most delicious breakfast, and a successful attempt to dodge autographs, the group walked down the street to the streetcar stop.
And what came around the bend made a most interesting sight for Babs’ camera.
It was painted a deep green, with red lining on the windows and a flat roof, painted grey. It sat on two bogies of four wheels, and two doors at either end of the machine.
These were the original New Orleans streetcars, the 900 Series. Manufactured by Perley Thomas and Company from 1923 to 1924, they had been in continuous service for over 90 years, not ceasing even during Hurricane Katrina. As the line they ran on (the St. Charles route) was itself a National Historic Landmark, the streetcars had to stay exactly as built, which meant no climate control.
On that note, the St. Charles line had been in continuous operation since 1835, a record that remains unbeaten to this day. The old cars had even helped out on the Canal line during the floods; truly old machinery coming to the rescue.
The machine rolled to a stop and opened the doors, and the group climbed aboard. There was a loud bell from the streetcar, and away it went. Rolling round a tight bend, it raced down streets and dodged bicycles. Or should I say bicycles dodged it. As you don’t get in the way of a streetcar!
Tender pointed something out to Raindrops from the window.
“See that huge building over there?” he asked.
“Yeah, the big silver one?”
“That’s the National WW2 Museum. We’re going there on the last day.”
Presently, the heavily built-up section of the city was left behind, and the streetcar rolled through leafy suburbs with well-proportioned antebellum homes and small stores.
“This is like Gone with the Wind!” Silverstream exclaimed.
Featherweight laughed. “Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn.”
The streetcar came to a stop opposite the zoo, and the tour group disembarked. After a short walk, they were ready to start their tour of the Garden District.
It didn’t get off to the best of starts. As they walked through the Cemetery, they stopped in front of one of the memorials.
“It is standard practice in N’awlins,” the guide said, “to bury particular professions together. These are the firefighters. There are also ones to the Police, and even the Screwers!”
Most of the group burst into laughter.
“Not that sort!” the guide replied. “They worked in the steel industry, mending screws.”
Mr Royce shook his head. “Maturity, please,” he said.
As they stepped forward, there was suddenly a loud squelching noise. Tender looked back-to see Babs had stepped in in a puddle. An extremely muddy puddle.
Her trainers were now wet-no, that is the wrong word. They were soaked! Mud had splashed up her slacks and she looked a bit of a mess.
“Oops,” was all she had to say.
“Don’t worry, we can dry you off at the hotel,” Raindrops said sympathetically.
“Is that practical?” asked Silverstream. “What if she catches a chill?”
Mr Rolls stepped over. “You five, we can deal with it later before we go to the collection.”
As they walked through the Garden district, many homes were pointed out, including one that belonged to a Kentucky Colonel.
“The fascinating thing about this place,” said the guide, “is that the owner wasn’t even military. Under Kentucky law, you can gain the rank of Colonel as an honorary position. The British have a similar concept with the Lord-Lieutenant.”
“That explains Kentucky Fried Chicken,” Babs sighed. She had mostly dried out, but her trainers were still wet.
“Indeed!” called the tour guide. “Colonel Sanders was an honorary colonel.”
On they went, past the street used in Django Unchained (a reference utterly lost on them), and the house said to have inspired the Haunted Mansion at Disneyland.
Then, the tour concluded a few minutes later. Mr Rolls called the group together.
“Alright everyone!” he called. “We’re going for lunch next, and then we’re catching a bus to the New Orleans collection. On the way we shall see the statue of St. Expedite.”
“What?” asked Raindrops.
“In the 19th Century, the Our Lady of Guadalupe Church on Rampart Street received a box marked ‘spedito’, which in Spanish means ‘rush’,” Tender explained. “However, the monks interpreted this as the Saint’s name, hence ‘St. Expedite’, the patron saint of speedy cases.”
“Fascinating!” Silverstream said. “I’m so getting a picture of it!”
“But first, lunch,” Featherweight observed. “My stomach’s growling.”
The Po'boys they had were excellent, and filled them up enormously. They got the bus just in time, before the heavens opened, and after a quick visit to the statue, they went around the New Orleans collection.
Babs looked closely at the Louisiana Purchase. “So much land for a reasonable price,” she said.
“The irony is,” one of the patrons said, “is that Napoleon didn’t own the land. The Spanish did.”
“Then why was the deal done with France?”
“Territory swaps. France and Spain juggled land endlessly during the 1700s, most notably after the French and Indian War.”
Babs had learned about that in history. “Then who was here when Lewis and Clark came through?”
“Spanish officials,” Tender added. “Remember, we learned all about this?”
“Oh yeah, we did!” Babs nodded. “They must have been extremely brave, wanderin’ out into all that territory.”
Meanwhile, Silverstream was utterly baffled by a pair of British guests.
“What?” she said. “You’ve never heard of the Battle of New Orleans?”
“Minor colonial spat in the midst of bigger things. Familiar with Waterloo?”
“The ABBA song?” Silverstream asked.
“No, the battle,” the British man said, annoyed. “Besides, the terms of the war had already been settled. This defeat meant nothing.”
“Well,” Raindrops chimed in, “it was a pretty humiliating defeat for the British. 285 dead against 13.”
“And it was a real turning point for America,” Silverstream added. “White, black and Indian troops fought under the US flag.”
The second British guest narrowed her eyes. “You sure repaid them well,” she snorted, before she walked away. “Come on, Charles.”
Raindrops shook her head. “There’s no convincing some people.”
After the evening meal, they headed home. After Babs had a bath to warm herself up (and didn’t get stuck, unlike a certain US President) she changed for bed, and let sleep claim her, ready for a day of Jazz.
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9408030
Ah.
Oh yeah, during the dry season (aka Summer) for of the Cumbres and Toltec Scenic Railroad and... yes... even the Durango and Silverton Narrow Gauge Railroad, they put Spark Arrestors on the stacks of the Locomotives to help partially control the problem and to prevent any loose cinders expelling on to the ground.
9408586
Yup. What did you think of the chapter?
9408595
I will read it in just a little bit. I need to get through everything else on my laptop :P
9408602
You must have a lot on there. I'm currently downloading some freeware for TS2019.
9408650
Okie =3
About to start reading the chapter now =3
9408661
Cheers.
Nice one Featherweight. XD
9408664
Okie =3
9408671
Gone with the Wind callback.
I have a picture of St Expedite somewhere.
9408692
Ah. =3
Okie =3
9408701
Honestly, seeing it nearly made me laugh. I say nearly, as I didn't want to disturb the other visitors.
9408706
Okie =)
9408721
arturovasquez.files.wordpress.com/2009/06/expedite.jpg
9409002
Ah.
9409070
Funny, no?
9409076
yah =3
9409078
But this is equally funny:
9409079
Whoa :O
9409084
Bohemian Rhapsody backwards, or should I say ydospahR naimehoB.
9409086
Ah.
9409087
Hidden messages, or nonsense? You decide.
9409090
Okie =3
9409107
Yup. New chapter lands tomorrow morning!
9409117
Why, before us today*
The video above is unavailable.
Wow!
What?