Ernie Hackett Remembers his Jazz Family

Bobby Hackett remains one of my musical heroes, and I cherish his recordings, the few times I saw him in person, and the sound of his horn in my memory, a sound I can call up at will. Bobby’s son Ernie—swinging drummer and vivid individualist—has fascinated me since I encountered him on Facebook years ago. Outspoken, tender, kind, hilarious, a man of deep perceptions and deep emotions, he’s been a remarkable presence to me. Recently, thanks to our mutual friend Clyde Groves—who appears here and here (Clyde is Billy Butterfield’s son-in-law)—Ernie and I had a delightful long phone conversation about the people we both love, a few noted in my title, which it is my honor to share with you here. Now . . . here’s what Ernie told me, just before Christmas 2020—a big present for all of us. Simplicity was Dad’s art. He loved the melody, and he knew how to play around with the melody, but he never got out of control. He didn’t like the spotlight, the glamour, and he rarely took the first chorus. What always hit me in the family, blessed as I was, was his wonderful sense of humor, his dry, witty sense of humor. He was going through Customs once, and the agent looked at the cornet case and said, “Is that a musical instrument?” Dad’s one-word reply was, “Occasionally.”