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for breakfast . It was good too, and as my head began to clear I when I took off my headphones he said that somebody was
sat in the rocking chair by the living room window playing banging on the front door. When I opened it there were four
with the sax and remembering my Jackie McLean days. Finally cops standing there in uniform, claiming that somebody, they
I put my mouth to the embrochure and gave an experimental wouldn ' t say who. had complained about the noise, and since
"TOOT! " Not bad. Gradually, mindful of the throbbing in my it was after ten o'clock on a Sunday evening they would have
head, I began to rip off a few barnyard squawks. to take my name. My room was still full of marijuana fumes
Suddenly I saw a wizened shadow pass on the shade beside and my friend was stoned on reds, so I told them who I was to
me. I stopped playing, quietly stood up. lifted one of the get them out of there, and they left.
blinds ever- so- slightly and peered out. There stood my land - But that was all in the past, and I didn ' t have any dope in
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lady, all four feet of white haired crone, leaning on her cane the house now, and besides it rankled me that my landlady
right in front of the door to my apartment, listening. I laid the should stand outside my door spying on me in the United
sax down and sat back in my chair with my hands folded in States of America where a man has the right to play free jazz
my lap. not making a sound At length she went away at high noon. 1 had heard other tenants talking about how
I had had trouble with this old apparition before. Ever since both she and her son had been caught at odd hours, stooping
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the previous managers, a retired couple, had left when the slightly by peoples windows, listening to see what went on
husband had a heart attack, and Mrs. Brown had taken over, within.
she and I had been at loggerheads. The first time it was quite I sat and mulled it awhile, reaching the halfway point in my
civil. I was playing The American Revolution by David Peel fifth of Jack ' s, and then I called my girlfriend up on the phone
and the Lower East Side at top volume, and she came and '
so- swectly told me that another tenant had complained. Fine for a little fun. Her sister answered, and I didn t say a word
but launched immediately into a squealy version ot "Mary Had
I turned down . The next time it was Sir Lord Baltimore: I a Little Lamb " on the horn that would have done Yusef
listened to a whole side with headphones and speakers both on Lateef proud. She was shocked at first, thinking It was a crank
before realizing that she had been banging on the door with all call 1 guess, but when I told her who it was she handed the
her strength for 20 minutes. When I answered it she launched phone to Candy, my girlfriend, and I repeated my per-
into a tirade rite with threats of eviction, but my blood was formance.
tired with Sir Lord Baltimorean feedback and I just screamed By the time I was halfway through the first rendition,
at her and slammed the door. though, the landlady had come galloping up, or as close to a
All this was complicated by two things. One was her son, a gallop as one can get with a chrome cane, and commenced to
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baby faced weakling of the type that always has a purple bang unremittingly on the door with her gnarled fist. It made a
swath through his stubble after he shaves, who married the pretty good rhythm track, in fact, but Candy and her sister
bitchiest Student Council socialite of a blonde from my high - couldn ' t hear that. When I started playing for Candy, Mrs.
school and spent much of his time in loud fights with her. It Brown began to yell: "Hey, in there! Stop that racket and
amused the whole building to hear her browbeat and him open this door right now! "
whine, and she always won It was clear that he was still tied But I finished my recital. Candy laughing, and told her to
to his madre 's apron strings, because they accepted free rent hold on a second. I answered the door with axe in hand The
from his mother, even though it was plain that his wife hated landlady was fuming: "What are you doing in there "
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her (although in truth it seemed like she hated the whole "Pm practicing my saxophone. I said with a smile of in -
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world ). nocence. holding it out a bit so she could see. She was not
The other factor making it difficult for me to kick out the mollified.
jams in peace was that the apartment right under the one "Are you havin ’ a drunk party in there? ’
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occupied by myself and my own sainted mother was rented to Now I started to get mad. Every goddam time she inter-
somebody else I went to highschool with , namely one of the rupts me she accuses me of having a "drunk party, " and the
stupidest , ugliest pugs I ever knew , named Butch Dugger, and w * orst part is she never docs it when I actually am having one.
he just happened to have grown up to be a cop A kid who Once she called me up and said this on a Sunday afternoon
lived in the apartment house told me once that Dugger had while I was watching a rather flighty college professor who
been heard saying that he remembered me from school, had looked like Woody Allen play piano sonatas by an obscure
me , his words. homosexual composer and then explain their programmatic
never liked me, and now had sworn that he was going to "get
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content in purple prose, on TV. "No, " I bristled , adrenaline
Now, I ' m not particularly paranoid. All I know is that one rising. "I m just playing my sax as you can fucking well see! "
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night when I had a friend over juicing it up. my friend tapped
me on the shoulder right in the middle of " Sister Kay" and CONTINUED ON PAGE 76.

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