I did a wedding with a band I didn’t know and had never played with before (or since). When I got to the venue they were trying to figure out the first dance, which was “When You Wish Upon a Star.” They got to the bridge and were stuck, so since they were in the key of C, I said “I think the first chord of the bridge is Dm7.” The bass player looked at me without a trace of irony and said “we don’t use those chord things.”

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At Harvey Estrin’s funeral Lawrence Feldman told a story which illustrated just how humming the music business was back in the day. They were both playing the Miss America Pageant in Atlantic City, and had also both gotten called for a record date the next morning. They had to be back in A.C. in the afternoon, but figured out that if they took a commuter helicopter to and from Manhattan they should be able to make it. As they boarded the copter with their many woodwinds Harvey was told that he had too many carryons, so he turned around and handed his alto flute to Lawrence. Then, naturally, Lawrence was told he had too many carryons, so he turned around and handed Harvey’s instrument to a business guy behind him who only had an attache. Everyone boarded successfully, and they made it back for their afternoon rehearsal just before conductor Don Pippin had a heart attack.

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Lee Lachman related this story: Al Thompson was sitting at the bar on one of Zoot Sims’ gigs. When Zoot came over on a break, Thompson told him, “I figured out what’s wrong with your playing — you’re standing too close to the mouthpiece.”

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One of the highlights of being in school in Miami was the weekly Jazz Forum, Fridays at 11 AM. It would feature student or faculty groups, or whatever notable artists were appearing in town. One week the group featured Ira Sullivan and Bob Mover, who played the night before at a club in North Miami. Their gig went until 3AM, and they decided to hang out, get some breakfast and go directly to the university. As they slowly took the bandstand, 5 somewhat wrinkled and hung-over musicians, Ira announced “the first lesson is: don’t let this happen to you!”

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When contractor Red Press was asked a question like, “If I take this show, will it run?” his standard reply was, “The one thing I know is I don’t know.”

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My clown story in my debut column inspired Randy Emerick to share his own. He was working as a repair tech at a music store and one of the salesman had a side gig in which he dressed as a clown and did balloon tricks, etc. at kids’ parties. One day Randy was leaving the store dressed in a tux for his own gig when the sales guy stopped him and asked condescendingly “How much do you make playing saxophone?” He said “It varies. Maybe $200 to $250, maybe more.” He replied “I won’t leave the house for less than $600.” Randy said “I won’t dress up like a clown for less than a thousand.”

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We lost the great clarinet and saxophone player Al Regni on October 10, 2026. He was warm, wise and welcoming in addition to being a wonderful musician. I feel fortunate to have known him and played with him in a variety of settings. In 2022 he wrote an engaging memoir entitled “Saxophone Troubadour”, in which he describes such unique events as sharing a hotel with the Watergate Burglars, seeing Leonard Bernstein coach third base at Giants Stadium in Tokyo and conspiring to keep paparazzi away from Jackie Kennedy. I will miss him.