Chapter 81

So much for plan B. Veronica still got plugged. Doil did some finger wagging and called the paramedics, then let me go. No third degree no incident room smelling of sweat and stale coffee. In fact totally baffling and not in character at all. I still have my wrist band so I can return whenever I choose. It is the first time I have seen Fats himself in action and not been him, reason to hang around. Nothing short of an A bomb will stop a fish fry and a high rolling game. We party on.

Fats and I take it in turns to entertain and do some duets. Him sitting his large ass hanging over the piano stool and me standing leaning over the keys. Finally the rain stops at about 9 a.m. With Fats showing no sign of the two pints of whiskey he has drunk says he is hungry for ham and eggs.

We grab a cab to 116^th st. and take a table near the window. I can see the Victoria Hotel, the pawnshop and the cat house. This becoming my manor.

We order Ham Eggs, English muffins and coffee. I ask Fats how he got started.

Here it is in a nut shell.

Thomas Wright “Fats” Waller was born on 21 May 1904 to Edward Waller and Adeline Waller, a Baptist preacher who conducted open-air religious services in Harlem. Waller’s granddad was an accomplished violinist while his mother was a church organist. It was from her that he learnt to play organ and got his early lessons in classical music. Even his church musical director played a key role in acquainting him to the basics of music as well as to the works of J.S. Bach. Since he was keen on learning the piano, his mother hired a tutor for him.

Waller’s father, however, wanted him to follow his footsteps and make a career in religion. In 1920, after his mother’s death, he moved out of the family house and started to live with the family of Russell Brooks, the pianist. In 1918, he won a talent contest performing James P. Johnson’s ‘Carolina shout’, which he learned by watching a Pianola play. This is where he met James P. Johnson and Willie ‘The Lion’ Smith, Harlem stride giants. Later, when Johnson met Fats and heard him play the organ, he was convinced that he could help the boy improve. Johnson and Smith greatly influenced Waller by teaching him stride piano style and introducing him to other composers.

Johnson was asked to take over the piano in a club at Leroy’s where Willie ‘the Lion’ Smith performed. However, Johnson was out of town so Fats took over. This was his nightclub debut, and a huge success.

Johnson also introduced Waller to Quality Reigns Supreme (QRS) in order to make piano rolls. He performed for 19 rolls at hundred dollars each. His key board style had an individuality, which could be associated only with him. His unique style and approach to music got the record sales soaring.

The rest is history.

Fats talked between mouthfulls and ordered more eggs. His appetite for food was just as big as for music. All the time beaming and arching his eyebrows like some impish deity. I am fascinated and in awe of the big man.

Soon will come the test of how good the IGBI is, whilst I was impersonating Fats he was under ice being implanted with the memories of my actions. When Big Sal comes over for breakfast he should be delighted to see her, having supposedly shared her bed for a few weeks.

***************

I didn"t think I would feel jealous. Big Sal arrived when we were on the second coffee. She took Fats's face between her hands and gave him a smacker on the lips. Then turned to me and said.

"Hi Limey, see you"ve met the best boogie man in and out of bed."
She obviously remembered me from our little chat, right here, in this same booth.

I am as jealous as hell, little green men are walking all over me. Fats meanwhile just grins and waggles his eyebrows. It is time for me to take a raincheck. I need some shut eye and a hose down. I leave a ten spot on the table and cross the street to the Victoria Hotel. I sleep for ten hours and wake refreshed and ready for action. My suits are ranged in the closet between freshly laundered shirts. Each sorted by the Madame as an outfit with a tie hooked over the hanger, and shoes on a shelf below. I chose a navy blue waisted with a broad chalk stripe and black silk socks and dancing pumps. Looking in the mirror I am West End elegance itself.

I descend in the wrought iron elevator as it slowly reveals Mdme. Victoria. She slides back the gate and hooks her arm in mine escorting me to the desk. She swings the guest book around and points with a buffed finger nail to my name and room number. Against which is a figure in red ink. I pull out my wadd of notes and give her a 100 greenbacks. She pulls up her skirt and tucks them into her garter. She kisses me on the cheek and taps my tush.

"Au revoir mon cher, et merci." Then in English. "The door is always open"

She pushes me out onto the sidewalk.