dumbek, harp, jumbo djembe, whisky, agôgo, shriekin', mumblin'
Note:
The following is an interview fragment discovered at the Hogan
Jazz Archive at Tulane University. Neither the time of the interview
or the identity of the interviewer are known. Curator Bruce Raburn
and a crack team of researchers are searching for more information about
this important document, and hope that further portions, or even the whole
of the text, will be brought to light soon.
Mr. Fish... can I call you Snappy?
Yeah, sure you can Gov'nor.
Snappy's me name, Fish's me family.
I see... Snappy, although it
is not easy to distinguish fact from fiction concerning the often controversial
lives of any of the Basin Street Sheiks, it is safe to say that the various
members of the band, including yourself, have led very colorful lives,
and have worn many different hats over the years.
Well mate, I don't know about
the rest of them, but Snappy's only worn one hat all me life, an' that
one's on me 'ead right now. You know, this green one 'ear.
Oh, by "hats" I mean "had many
different occupations."
Yeah? Right... I've always
earned me daily bread any way I could, I 'ave. I've 'ad many occupations,
you might say, but only one hat all these years, which I think is a rare achievement
for any man.
I'm sure it is Mr. Fish.
Actually, why don't we start with where you were born. Rumor has
it, and judging from your accent, you are from England?
No mate, you 'av it all wrong
like. It's like this... Snappy was born in good 'ol New Orleans, right?
Is that so?
That's right, me mum was knocked
up in Wales... is the reason I speak like I do, of course. But I
don't think he was me real dad.
Why is that?
'Cause this is a cockney accent,
it is.
Amazing, so the roots of the
Basin Street Sheiks are firmly planted in the New Orleans musical tradition
after all! There is so much rumor and legend surrounding the history
of the Sheiks, and their impact upon 20th century American popular music,
I'm so grateful to have this chance to record the actual history from a
one who lived it.
Right... You aren't with the
cops, are you?
Er... why no..
'Cause you got to tell me if
you are up front like, or it isn't legal. Play fair now, I know me
Mirandas! (At this point Mr. Fish arose quickly and started to leave.)
No.. Snappy, er Mr. Fish, I'm
not with the police!
Promise?
Yes, yes sir. Please sit
down.
Promise-womise?
Why... yes.
Alright then (sitting down).
Don't get me wrong, I'm with law enforcement, actually... a lot.
I spend a good bit o' time down at the station. I'm sort of a police
consultant, I am. They often ask me to help them solve their little
cases an' all.
That must be intriguing work.
I did not know you were a detective as well as a musician?
Yeah, they ask me questions
like "Snappy, where were you the night of the 16th an' all like that.
An' if I can 'elp 'em out, I do. It's like all the great writers
said... you know Gertrude Stein, Socrates, Marielle 'Emmingway, that's
right, they all said "Write what you know. Write what you know!"
...An' I confess what I know, I do. That's why I can proudly say...
that I'm the only Sheik never to 'ave done time.
I've heard that the whole band
has rather impressive police records.
Exactly, thank you very much.
I wish they'd appreciated me 'ard work as much as you do, gov'nor.
Hmm... tell me how you met the
rest of the Sheiks.
Well, I first met Whisperin'
Lu while ridin' the rails during me depression...
You mean "The Depression?"
Uh, yeah- everybody was pretty
depressed in those days, because nobody 'ad any cash. I think the
printin' machine broke or somthin'. Yeah... it was durin' what I
call me artsy phase.
Were you a visual artist as well?
Exactly, I was what you call
one o' them con artists, y' know? An' of course, your appearance
was everythin', that is, if ya didn't want to get punched in the gob by
one of your victims... I mean fans (at least that's what we call 'em now).
Yeah, at that time I was workin' for the Union Pacific railroad as a con
artist.
You mean 'on' the railroad.
Right. Yeah, you know the police
are always remindin' me about those words, what you call them, those conjugal
words, or somt'in'. I tell em "I took the purse FOR the lady," an' they
say it's "I took the purse FROM the lady." An' so then I say that... at
least after they put the screws on, that is. Yeah, so I was on my
way back west to New Orleans with the money I needed for my poor, ill gran's
operation.
What illness did she suffer from?
You must have cared for her very deeply....
Well no, mate. 'ave you
been listenin'? I didn't 'ave a sick gran, silly. Me gran was
as 'ealthy as an 'orse. Well, as an 'orse with a wee slobberin' problem,
that is. You see, I conned the money out of one of them, you know,
marks, right. The're the dumb one an' you're the smart one--that's
'ow it is, so they deserve it, see?
I belive so....
Yeah, so I met Whisperin' on
the train, an' it turned out that Whisperin' 'ad a sick gran too--one much
sicker than mine, from the sound of it. You should of 'eard 'im describe
just the bloody phlegm she was constantly coughin' up, wot? An' the
hackin' sounds 'e made. It brought tears to me eyes, it did.
Well, I felt sorry for the old bird, yeah, an' seein' that his gran needed
her operation more than mine needed hers, I gave him the dough out of the
kindness of me heart, I did. (At this Snappy paused and beamed proudly.)
That's wonderful, Mr. Fish, but
your grandmother wasn't actually sick, isn't that what you said?
Me gran? Why yes, she
was as 'ealthy as an 'orse I told you.... (At this Mr. Fish got a faraway
look in his eyes, appearing to concentrate deeply, not speaking for a time.
I feared this could be the end of our interview.)
...You don't suppose?
Absolutely not, Mr. Fish, I'm
sure you saved his grandmother's life!
Allright then... Yeah, so that
was several years before we formed the gang, I mean band (at least that's
what we call it now). Wonderful man, Whisperin' Lu, always workin'
for some charity... like the crippled garbagemen, or the orphan's porridge
fund, like. Lou always sees to it that a portion of the band's earnin's
goes to charity and such. Wonderful man, he is... so much compassion.
I know it takes a lot out o' him to face such sufferin' and worldly oppression.
Has he shared his feelings with
you about it?
Well, no... it just seems like
he always goes on a bender after deliverin' the money to the little orphans
and the like. He's such a sensitive bloke. It tears 'im up
when they come at 'im with their little wooden bowls, I imagine, "Please
Sir, can I have some more?" an' all.
Undoubtedly... there is a story
that you and Met'rie Fats met while working as carnies?
What? Carnivores?
No, I mean uh, carnival workers.
Oh yeah, well, I'd like to dispel
that rumor and innuendo right now, I would. The Sheiks did not all
meet while workin' in a freak show. No, couldn't be further from
the truth.... Actually, no Sheik ever went professional, even so.
When I met Met'rie, we was both championship wrestlers, not freaks, except
maybe on a freelance basis in our spare time, and then strickly amateur,
mind you (that way you avoid the copyright issues.) Yeah, in those
days, I was called the Flyin' Fish, that was me wrestlin' name. An'
I knew Met'rie from the circuit, only 'e was an 'eavyweight, an' I was
a lightweight, so we had never met in the ring before. They wanted
the matches to be fair, like, an' didn't want the lightweights runnin'
circles around the slow, lumberin' 'eavies, an' takin' 'em down in the
first round an' embarrasin' them, see? Those 'eavies were all prima
donnas in those days an' would break down cryin' at the drop of an' 'at.
I had a lot of respect for Met'rie, though, 'cause he knew how to handle
an angry female dwarf in the mud-pit, 'e did.
Now, it was one fateful day in Jackson, Mississippi, when they 'ad run out of midgets, or somethin', they paired Met'rie up with the 'ol Flying Fish... that's me see. An' I 'ad no worries, I just didn't want to make a fool of Met'rie. So I started off slow, dodgin' all of his attacks an' makin him hit his 'ead on the poles an' all. Likewise, I'd be givin' him one o' me famous fish slaps with the back of me hand while gettin' out 'is holds, you know? Me secret was me patented, double-slippery 'Fish Oil' that allowed me to escape any hold in the book (if there was a book, that is.)
I've read about that (laughter).
Would it be possible for you to reveal the ingredients after all this time?
Well, yeah, sure, I guess. Well,
first... fish, second, oil.
Is that all?
Well, yeah... an' me secret
blend of herbs and spices. I liked to add lot of rosemary, meself.
An' the management liked it 'cause the smell made people buy more refreshments,
especially after a long match in the 'ot sun. Anyway, I was a champion,
I was, an' 'ad no fear of that young upstart Met'rie, nohow. I could
see that I was wearin' 'im out. And when he fell flat faced on the
canvas, that's when I jumped on him to pin 'im, see?
However... an' this is what you call fate, see? I forgot to oil up one o' me ankles. An' as I was finishin' 'im off, Met'rie happened to grab it, you know? An' when he saw he had a solid grip, 'e got 'is second wind, threw me to the ground, an' immediately applied the figure-four leg lock on your own Snappy Fish! Well, I must say, I was apalled, because the figure-four was the only hold I did not know how to get out of, seein' as I could only count up to three at the time. So he put the pressure on me ankle, an' shouted, "Will you be me friend?" At the time, I was busy writhin' in pain, but took a moment to say "No you rotten bleeder, you're no friend of mine!" So then he turned me ankle sideways, a bit, in a way god never intended it to go, see, and shouted "Will you be me friend?" At that, I gathered up all me strength, caught me breath in between sobs, and said, "I'll never be your friend you regurgitated piece of dog vomit!"
I could see that 'is feelin's were hurt by then, and a steely look came over his eyes, an' 'is brow furrowed. It was then that I braced meself for the 'orrible snappin' sound that I thought would be forthcommin', an' I wasn't far wrong. I believe Met'rie 'ad worked on a sailin' ship before then, because he commenced to tyin' my lower extemities into knots that only a sailor could fathom. Again, he shouted, this time with the sound of desperation in his voice, "Will you be me friend?" The whole crowd fell silent, strong men looked away an' fair ladies fainted... an' for an instant I heard a small bird singing in the branches of the closest tree, which was a mile away. It was then that I let out an amazin' shreik, a sound like a thousand wee girls sittin' on tacks. A shriek so high-pitched and objectionable, that the windshields burst on all the Model-Ts in the lot, an' caused all the dogs to begin 'owlin for miles around. "Yeah, yeah, I'll be your friend for as long as I live, you putrid gob!" I shouted.
An' that's how me an' Met'rie became friends, it was. A lot of people say to me today, "Snappy, the threat of physical torture is no basis for a relationship!" An I tell them "Well, go over an' inform Met'rie over there of that, and I promise you, in 'alf a minute, you'll be fast friends, you will."
(The interview fragment ends here.)
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