Don’t Shoot!

Having mentioned in last month’s column that Tex Wyndham would sometimes travel from Wilmington, DE to Mystic CT to sub for me while I was traveling, it now seems time to share the music and stories of the place he’d come play in my stead. Playing at the Seamen’s Inne was one of my very favorite periods of my early career as a ragtime/early jazz pianist, vocalist, and entertainer. Across several columns (and years) I’ve recounted experiences I had while playing four to five nights a week at the legendary Griswold Inn in Essex, Connecticut. Fresh from earning my Master’s of Fine Arts in Teaching, I was faced with a choice; I could either get up every morning at 5 a.m. and go teach English to high school students, or go out playing in bars until 5 a.m. Either way, I’d see that time of day go by, but it seemed more fun to view it as the final hour of my day rather than the first.

Of course, the gigs in the bars usually ended between one and two a.m., but there was always the “hang” and jam session to look forward to! Looking back at this halcyon time between 1990-2002, I realize how unusually fortunate I was to be playing music from 1890-1940 six nights (and ten steadies) a week in situations from solo piano to a seven-piece Traditional Jazz Band! And most of this activity was situated along the Connecticut coastline from New Haven to Old Saybrook.

—Until—

I played a wedding reception with a band that did everything from hot ’30s jazz all the way up to 1980s pop in a huge ballroom in the Seamen’s Inne at the Mystic Seaport in Mystic CT. During the dinner break for the band, I wandered into the adjoining Samuel Adams’ Pub and encountered a group with the exact line-up I played with at the Griswold Inn: piano, banjo, tuba, and three guys belting out ragtime, hot ’20s tunes, and sing-along ditties. I was in heaven and missed the next set on the wedding band stage. I’m not sure the band even noticed.

I was able to sit in at the invitation of Art Doran, leader of the band, banjoist, and entertainer extraordinaire. His brand of humor was as if Groucho Marx was lunching with Salvador Dali, Robert Benchley, and Andy Warhol. In between the tunes, he’d go off on a rant about some subject or the other and have people on the floor in paroxysms of mirth. The only person I’ve ever seen do that since is my dearly-departed friend, Alan Fredrickson, trombonist and founder of the Queen City Jazz Band. Art and I had known each other from our shared voyages down the Connecticut River on mutual friend Stu Ingersoll’s 1906 Oyster boat, Flora (for the whole story on that, see TST July, November, December 2021).

While relieving the regular piano player of his duties, my playing caught the ear of then-owner Chuck Baxter, a fellow from New Orleans who had studied French Horn at the University of Louisville and then earned his Master’s in Music at Yale while playing French Horn for the New York City Ballet and as Principal Horn at the American Shakespeare Theater. This guy was no slouch! So how is it he was featuring a sing-along ragtime-banjo trio in his restaurant? He wanted people to have a good time; unlike the modern corporate mentality, Chuck’s idea was that people smiling and laughing will want to come back and do it again. He was right, there were dozens of regulars each week cramming into the pub.

Once he heard me, he suggested (strongly) to Artie that I become the new piano player. Art had to sack his other guy. He had mixed feelings about it; they’d been friends for decades, but the guy wasn’t really enjoying himself and that made the gig quite a bit harder. When Art invited me to quit my Friday/Saturday gigs in Essex to come work with him at the Seamen’s Inne, I really had to think about it. I had a good following there in Essex and wanted to be sure there’d be no hard feelings as I still wanted to retain my Wednesday and Sunday—as well as occasional Thursday—sessions in the Tap Room at the Gris. In addition, the crowds were great, the tips very generous, and I was the only musician in the place who had an open bar for whatever (and how much) I wanted: In those days, my intake helped me double my fee.

So I went with Artie to have a chat with Mr. Baxter. I told him I would like the same money I was getting at the Gris, plus all I cared to drink. He did one better. He raised my salary, matched the open bar and offered me dinner during a break for every night I played in his bar. He merely said ‘I want you to be happy.” I was more than that! I’d just moved into my new home and it was a mere mile away from the Seamen’s Inne, so I’d felt I’d stumbled into Heaven.

Then-Griswold Inn owner Bill Winterer was very gracious about my “defecting” (his word) to another establishment, especially as I made sure there were suitable replacements on both nights I was leaving. I scratched my head over his “term” for my exit. But I headed to my new residency without looking back.

Several months later Artie said,“You see that grin on Chuck Baxter’s face every time he wanders into the bar?”

“Yeah, he must really like what we’re doing,” I replied.

He shook his head laughing, and said, “It’s more than that: he stole you from his old boss!”

Sure enough, I discovered that before buying the Seamen’s Inne, Chuck had been the General Manager of the Griswold Inn for ten years! He was two years into what would be his nine-year stint as Owner, Operator, and Entrepreneur of the restaurant/bar in Mystic. I was part of a gotcha ploy! I didn’t mind, and Bill Winterer was happy to allow me to keep my gigs at the Gris on the other nights of the week. Again, I was incredibly fortunate!

I had some terrific times with the trio Artie had named “Don’t Shoot.” Ostensibly, the soubriquet referred to the old saloon days when the piano player would yell out that phrase, but there was a possible double meaning given we were playing at a place called “The Seamen’s Inne.” Some audience members caught the double-entendre and would scold Artie for it, whereupon he’d retort: “We’re Amtrak’s favorite band because we always pull out on time!”

In addition to Art on banjo and me on piano, we had Steve Inghram on tuba. What a sound he had on that thing! He’d also do some vocal features. One of them was his spot-on imitation of Shirley Temple singing “On the Good Ship Lollipop.” Remember, this was more of an entertaining show band than ragtime or jazz group, although after the crowd lapped up the absurdity, we’d launch into some hot Coon-Sanders Orch. tune or similar and they liked that just as much.

I think the highlight for me during those sessions in the Sam Adams’ Pub was our three-part harmony vocalizing. Art on lead, Steve on tenor, and me grabbing whatever notes were left led to some “Boswell Brothers” moments that still bring me chills when I recall them.

Chuck wanted us to get into the main dining room once in a while to “advertise” that we were in the pub on the other end of the building and encourage people to stop in for some fun and an after-dinner drink. So I’d grab my trombone (in my hands, a weapon of somewhat minimal destruction, although I did attend the Home Depot School of Music) and we’d go in to “serenade” the unsuspecting diners enjoying their meals in a much higher-class setting than we should’ve allowed within 500 feet of. We’d blast through “Happy Birthday” if we’d been notified of someone having one, or just plow through some tune as loudly and obnoxiously as we were able (and we were very able). We’d then look at the crowd of people staring at us in various stages of shock and disbelief and tell them they’d better come into the pub after dinner or we’d be back! It’s surprising how many times this worked well: our last couple of hours were often more full than our first couple.

This month, I thought I’d share the general history and gestalt of the Sam Adams Pub at the Seamen’s Inne when “Don’t Shoot” ran amok among unsuspecting Mystic residents and tourists. In the future, I’ll share some specific adventures, episodes, and occurrences that made playing with my friends Art and Steve in such a lively, intimate, truly magical room so special.

My request to my readers to please patronize establishments in your area offering weekly or monthly residencies to musicians and bands playing the music you love. Your showing up MATTERS!! Catch you next month!

Jeff Barnhart

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Jeff Barnhart is an internationally renowned pianist, vocalist, arranger, bandleader, recording artist, ASCAP composer, educator and entertainer. Visit him online atwww.jeffbarnhart.com. Email: Mysticrag@aol.com