Tony Bill writes from Venice, California:<\/p>\n
CINCO DE MAYO
\nWhen Bud Shank died on April 2 at 82, there were hundreds of
\nthousands, probably millions, who were reminded of his recordings,
\nconcerts and performances. But there were also about a dozen guys who
\nremembered a single, private and magical half-hour of his life…and
\ntheir own.
\nI met Bud on a boat. He was a sailing pal of my brother, John – a
\nprofessional skipper who had raced on Bud’s boat, Xanalyn. I owned a
\nsailboat, too: Olinka. And in May of 1977, I decided to enter the
\nfamous Newport to Ensenada race. My brother suggested Bud as one of the
\ncrew. I wasn’t a big jazz fan, so Bud Shank’s name meant nothing
\nmusical to me. I didn’t realize he was one of the world’s great
\nflautists, who would, only a few years later, give it up for other
\ninstruments. But I knew he was a sailing man; one of the best.
\nThere were 12 of us on the boat. Most of us already knew each other;
\nhard-core ocean racers, signed up for a good time on a beautiful, but
\ndated, wooden yawl. Built in Sweden in 1952, Olinka was also a handful
\nwhen racing; it took a dozen or more very good sailors to wring the
\nbest out of her. And Bud was clearly qualified. We had a great time and
\na great race, crossing the finish line at sunrise, ahead of the fleet.
\nFirst in class.
\nBud went ashore with a few of us in Ensenada to stock up for our
\ncelebratory breakfast: huevos; tortillas; tomates; cebollas; limones;
\ntequila; sangrita with a woman’s picture on the bottle. It was Cinco de
\nMayo: the Mexican day of Independence. And on the way back to the dock
\nwe passed through the sleepy, hungover, once-a-year swarm; past kids
\nsetting off fireworks. There was an old blind man selling little
\nhandrolled clay pipes with a few random holes punched in here and
\nthere; little flowers and donkeys painted on next to the Ensenada BC;
\nthe kind of souvenier trinket you’d buy for your kid to prove you’d
\nbeen to Mexico…and hope they didn’t try to play it.
\nSo the guy holds up a pipe, and Bud gives it a quick try, buys it for a
\nbuck (overpriced even 32 years ago) and sticks it in the grocery bag.
\nAnd we go back to the boat, fix breakfast, and settle down to catch
\nsome of the sleep we lost during the 20 hour race. Then, rocking in the
\nearly morning sun, watching the scores of boats still trailing across
\nthe finish line, we start to hear Bud Shank, alone on the foredeck,
\nplaying Antonio Carlos Jobim – purely and flawlessly – on what only moments
\nbefore was a crude, cheap toy; a piece of clay before that; and dust
\nbefore that. It was the most memorable outdoor concert of my life.
\nFirst in class.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n(Mr. Bill produced The Sting<\/em>, among other motion pictures. Films he has directed include Crazy People<\/em> and Flyboys<\/em> — DR)<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Tony Bill writes from Venice, California: CINCO DE MAYO When Bud Shank died on April 2 at 82, there were hundreds of thousands, probably millions, who were reminded of his recordings, concerts and performances. But there were also about a dozen guys who remembered a single, private and magical half-hour of his life…and their own. […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_genesis_hide_title":false,"_genesis_hide_breadcrumbs":false,"_genesis_hide_singular_image":false,"_genesis_hide_footer_widgets":false,"_genesis_custom_body_class":"","_genesis_custom_post_class":"","_genesis_layout":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[4],"tags":[],"class_list":{"0":"post-1685","1":"post","2":"type-post","3":"status-publish","4":"format-standard","6":"category-main","7":"entry"},"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.artsjournal.com\/rifftides\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1685","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.artsjournal.com\/rifftides\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.artsjournal.com\/rifftides\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.artsjournal.com\/rifftides\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.artsjournal.com\/rifftides\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=1685"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/www.artsjournal.com\/rifftides\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1685\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.artsjournal.com\/rifftides\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=1685"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.artsjournal.com\/rifftides\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=1685"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.artsjournal.com\/rifftides\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=1685"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}