Benny Powell

Everyone who knows me at all knows that what goes into my ears nourishes me as much or more than what goes onto my plate. So it doesn't feel entirely inappropriate to remember the late trombonist Benny Powell in this space.

Benny was one of the first people I met when I moved to NY in the early 1980s. He was at a Sunday brunch at an antiques store/listening space that was struggling to get off the ground -- kind of like my career. I had four years of on-air broadcast experience and a thick book full of features and news stories I'd written, much of it about jazz. I couldn't get anyone to look at my writing or listen to my demo tape. I lamented to Benny, also new to New York, that everyone told me to put that stuff away and go take a typing test.

He listened with interest and encouraged me to keep on trying, and said things would eventually work out if I kept making an effort. He had a benign, comforting way of talking, and his positive input came to mind from time to time over the years.

Since I'm enormous fan of Randy Weston, I heard Benny play regularly over the past two decades, especially savoring his gorgeous 'bone solo on the Melba Liston arrangement of "African Sunrise."

I heard the band in April, Benny looked frail and sat on a stool while he was playing. Afterward, I talked to him in the bar for a while and reminded him of his early encouragement, thanked him for his kindness and talked to him about doing the JazzWomen column for Hot House -- he was familiar with it, which pleased me no end. As usual, I walked away feeling uplifted by the evening's music and conversation.

The next day I wrote about it a bit in my morning pages: "Loved hearing Randy Weston last night, talking to the band, especially Benny Powell, dispenser of random acts of kindness. His 25-plus-year-old encouragement has really stuck with me: Benny Powell never told me to take a typing test! He knows my work, says I'm doing a good job. And he's still figuring out what life is all about, and he's still interested and entertained by it. He's frail, but plays like a musical saint. The flesh may be weak, but it's strong enough for low brass."

Benny died on June 26. I feel lucky to have heard him so often and to have gotten to know him a little bit. I hope his kindness, wisdom and beautiful, beautiful tone with stay with me for the rest of my life.