"Sure," said Benny Goodman,

"Sure," said Benny Goodman,

 

"We rode out the depression on technique." How gratifying,
            how rare,

Such expressions of a proper modesty. Notice it was not said

By T. Dorsey, who could not play a respectable “Honeysuckle

Rose” on a kazoo.

But by the man who turned the first jazz concert in Carnegie

Hall

Into an artistic event and put black musicians on the stand with

            white ones equally,

The man who called himself Barefoot Jackson, or some such,

In order to be a sideman with Mel Powell on a small label

And made good music on “Blue Skies,”  etc. He knew exactly

            who he was, nor more, no less.

It was rare and gratifying, as I’ve sid. Do you remember the

            Incan priestling, Xtlgg, who said,

“Oh Lord Sun, we are probably not good enough to exalt thee,”

            And got himself

Flung over the wall at Machu Pichu for his candor?

I honor him for that, but I like him because his statement

 implies

That if he had foreseen the outcome he might not have said it.

But he did say it. Candor seeks it own unforeseeable occasions.

Once in America in a dark time the existentialist flatfoot floogie

            stomped across the land

Accompanied by a small floy floy. I think we shall not see their

            like in our people’s art again.

                                                                            -Hayden Carruth

                                             from his Toward the Distant Islands : new & selected poems