Recording the Cotton Club Soundtrack, Part Two

See, Part 1 A Real New York Story We had been recording double sessions, often earning overtime to complete more difficult or complicated arrangements. We had finally finished the first exhausting full week of recording, and things were going well. The band was superb. Working with people like Bob Wilber and John Barry was a learning experience every day. My “big solo” was behind me. No more features to worry about, with everybody staring at me. I could relax, and I did, often joining Chuck Wilson, Laurie Frink, Joel Helleny, and others for more than a few beers after a second session was over. It was after one such beer-fueled rendezvous that I carefully made my way from the watering hole du jour out to the curb. It was late: I was making money, and I decided to spring for a taxi back to our place in Queens instead of taking the subway. It was the 1980s, and one didn’t really want to get on a subway with a musical instrument like mine after it got very late. (The trumpeter Spanky Davis called late-night taxis “cheap insurance.”) I climbed into the back seat of a huge yellow Checker cab. Man, I miss those big old Checkers! The cabbie flipped his flag down (it’s all electronic these days), and asked, “Where to, man?” I gave him our address and off we went. The cabbie looked like a member of the cast of Hill Street Blues. He was thirty-five or forty, slend