A Stranger at the Jazz Club

Members call it simply "the jazz club" and it meets the second Sunday of every month at the Riviera Village (south Redondo) Knights of Columbus hall. You can enter from the street or the back door which is what the musicians use -- closest to the bandstand.

To set the scene: The front door is open and sidewalk sign proclaims that there's live music today, come on in! On entering, you're in a small lobby - ladies and men's to the left; the entrance to the bar on the right. Farther left is the entrance to the "big room" with round tables for eight or 10 depending on the crowd. The bandstand is at the rear of the room and the wooden floor is polished for dancing.

This is by no means a formal concert. People greet friends, stop and converse; people at the tables are chatting away. A table set along the back of the room provides space for the items to be drawn (donated by members.) Refreshments (hot dogs, popcorn, slices of homemade cake) are sold by a woman who is all of 5 ft. tall, perhaps 90 lbs. and surely somewhere in her mid-80s. I think of her as "The Hot Dog Lady" and we enjoy our visits together.

Raffle tickets are sold by a perambulating lady - five for $1. The raffle is held when the music is over. Speaking of that, there is always a featured band and in front and behind their performance are pick-up bands of whoever is around and wants to join in.

I was outside, waiting for a friend who never showed (and you know who you are) when Bob and Pat (Brodsky) arrived. Bob went in; Pat lingered to gossip. When we walked into the ballrom we were surprised and then enchanted to see a little African-American girl dancing away while her mother (we thought) nodded approvingly from a chair at a table.

The surrise was: despite this being a club that honors New Orleans jazz, this was only the second time we'd seen a black person in attendance. Not because they would be made to feel unwelcome! Far from it. Fans are united. Period.

The little girl was wearing over-szied black motorcycle boots, a flouncy skirt and a modest top. Her hair was clumped and fastened with white plastic butterflies which danced as merrily as she did.

The woman was wearing a strapless sundress (on January 10th) with a gathered, elasticized bodice and a mid-calf-length skirt in a flower print. From time to time, clearly as the spirit moved her, she would get up and enthusiastically shake her (massive) booty and take cell phone pictures of the band. Woman and child were directly in front of the bandstand.

We four sat at the next table. An hour passed pleasantly and then Pat and I went out to the sidewalk for a cigarette. Next out the front door were the woman and little girl, who was as antic off the dance floor as on it. I grinned and said "I bet she'll sleep well tonight" and the woman grinned in response and said, "She don't sleep with me! Nuh-uh! I can't stand it! Wriggling - makes me need a Valium or a Nembutal (dramatic eye roll) somepin'!"

She went on to say that this was her first grandchild; that the kid was seven and that they were staying with (mumbled name) in the band. During our chat, the girl ran into the club and then back out to us several times.

After bumming a cigarette from me, the woman announced she was taking the girl down to the beach (two blocks west) and they'd be back.

What was noticeable about the woman was her teeth - the top middle two were missing as were some along the bottom left jaw. The remaining teeth were brown and crooked. "Crack 'ho" I thought to myself. But since she was at least 5 ft. 9 in. and carrying 300 lbs. I figured she'd kicked it. Never having actually seen a crack 'ho live I couldn't tell you if they run thin or fat, but this fat seemed unlikely.

To Be Continued