PERSON Poem: Frank “Big Boy” Goudie, by Erich von Neff

“Let’s blow this place.” Ox* said
We’d been drinking in Mike’s Pool Hall for two hours
Time to move on
We walked down Broadway to the Embarcadero
passing piers whose warehouse doors were open
longshoremen were driving forklifts,
stacking cargo
As we continued I could hear a jazz band
We were at Pier 23**, a waterfront dive
Longshoremen were drinking and laughing
Couples were sitting at tables
All faced the band
A large black man was playing the cornet
There was a clarinet player, a trombone player, a banjo player
a drummer, and a sexy redhead on the upright piano
They played:
Burgundy Street Blues
Pallet on the Floor
Didn’t he ramble
Saint James Imfirmary,…
Jazz, cigarette smoke, and booze down the hatch
The crowd thinned, the band dispersed
Ox and I remained
Ox walked up to Frank
“Erich I want you to meet Frank.
He played with Django Reinhardt at the Hot Club
and the Club Zelli, and…
“That’s okay,” Frank said
Until they stood next to each other I did not realize Frank’s size
Ox was six feet three, but Frank was a good four inches taller
And he looked just as strong as Ox who was a lumberjack
Frank extended his hand
It was about twice the size as mine.
He had a surprisingly gentle handshake
“Your band has the sweetest sound,” I said
“Comes with the years,” Frank said laughing
“Let’s go Ox said finally
We walked down the Embarcadero
toward the trawler Ox lived in
across from the Third Street Bridge
I kept thinking: Frank played with Django Reinhardt
at the Jazz Hot Club
I had met and heard history
Suddenly a battered car pulled up
“Where are you two going?” Frank asked
“The Third Street Bridge,” Ox replied
“Get in.”
Could this be true?
We climbed in the car,
riding in silence until the Third Street Bridge
After we got out we reached in our pockets
and brought out what little money we had
“We want to pay you for the gas.”
“Forget it,” Frank said, “Pass it on”
And drove off
We had heard one of the greats
Frank had played with the best
in the heyday of the Paris Jazz scene
Frank meant more than to give somebody a ride
We’ll pass on your spirit Frank.
We’ll do our best*

Author: poetryfest

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