Mike and the other Matt played trumpets. Nobody is perfect.
When the band first began to play out, Victor and I were in the front of the horn section, with the trumpets and Parkie behind us (analogous to a 2 -3 zone for you basketball fans). Soon it was apparent our audiences were growing tired of a guy with a hat and his jazz buddy from Alaska. Besides, Victor and I were ready for hearing therapy. We surrendered and the brass moved out front.
I admired Parkie for his restraint in the back line. Given the length of the slide on his trombone and vulnerability of the sax section to attack from the rear (not to mention our aspirations as chick magnets), it was remarkable that Parkie always missed. Thereafter, it was the dancers’ turn to duck
The other Matt was expert at hitting high notes. His friend, Mike, was expert at pointing out the hot chicks and fully supported the noise. Victor and I honked in accompaniment, probably unnoticed.
When I first met the other Matt, he was a skinny kid just out of college. Then, he began to eat. It seemed that the bigger he got, the higher he could play. As a matter of record, I wish to deny any and all allegations that I offered milkshakes after our rehearsals…the same about cheeseburgers, french fries, onion rings, and Maynard Ferguson CD’s. Victor never knew…
Mike and the other Matt had a unique bond. Along with Parkie, they were a formidable front line, but I could never figure out why the chicks went crazy. Of course, Victor and I didn’t complain.
…As an aside, there was no room for me on the stage at the 5-spot. So, I was on the floor next to the stage, and also next to the service bar where the barmaid and I were within talking distance. That would have been Parkie’s place…