The horn section was rather amazing in my totally unbiased opinion (sic). We had two trumpet players, two saxophones, and a trombone. Victor was the other sax player.
Victor was a native Alaskan (his last name was North…honest). I was never sure how he got to Philadelphia (dog-sled routes stop somewhere in Minnesota), but he arrived with jazz in his heart and found us willing to help him pay his rent while he explored the local jazz scene. He came in as the tenor man, which pissed me off because I then became the alto/baritone/soprano/flute guy. He was already very accomplished, but dammit, he only had only one case to carry from the parking lot.
We usually stood behind the brass, unseen by the audience in the broad shadow of the other Matt on trumpet.
In the course of one night, with swing/jazz tunes early, and funk and soul later, I often yelled obscenities at Victor when he ripped off an incredible jazz solo. Invariably, he would return the favor later when I sizzled on ‘Mustang Sally’. We learned so much from each other. Victor tried very hard to be funky. He laughed at my jazz, but the important part was that we laughed together.
R-E-S-P-E-C-T…