The Vanishing Point

Woody Herman's music is sweeping nation, my mother wrote in 1945, and Kansas City, where she and Dad went to college, was jazz hub. One year before they married, my parents--Max and Bobbie--were dating and caught up in swirl of Kansas City activities: shopping, going to shows, dancing all in clubs. Dad drove and they often bounced from town to town following music and twisting to the Sometimes they stopped along way picnics where Dad cooked steaks over wood fire. In letter dated October 7, 1945, one of many she wrote to my grandmother throughout her life, my mother describes an all-nighter filled with excitement and music. began with trip to Topeka where Dad bought a beautiful brown suit and my mother purchased a black slip and bra, good white scarf, and black purse. She was ready on town: At last I have my outfit. They drove to Lawrence to pick up their friends, Neal and Shirley, at bus station, and headed off KC, arriving about six. We stopped at Interlude, and had steaks and listened to Joshua Johnson, who played piano boogie. main event though was Woody Herman. He's Coming, newspaper clipping that fell out of envelope of one of my mother's letters announced, The Country's Greatest Dance Band. Herman would be in Kansas City for one night in his only Midwest appearance. His orchestra included Frances Wayne, as vocalist, and other stars of jazz scene: Chubby Jackson, Flip Phillips, and Bill Harris. My parents and their friends arrived at municipal auditorium about eight thirty. It is huge building one block square, my mother wrote, agog. They worked their way through crowd to front of room, right below stage, and there when musicians took their places. In 1945, Woody Herman's star was on rise. He and his orchestra, called The Herd, just signed contract with Columbia, recording hits like Laura and Caldonia. next year Herman played Carnegie Hall and won awards from Billboard, Metronome, and Esquire as top band in country. My mother's reaction was mixed. musicians were peculiar looking and Herman's style was too flashy her taste. Even on sweet and mellow pieces he always has to end it up with jump and jive. She preferred more conventional sound of Les Brown, but admitted that musicians in Herman's band sure could play and that audience was wild about it. room was too crowded dancing. We stood there against stage two hours, my mother complained. Finally Shirley & I could stand it no longer because our feet killing us. two of them went to balcony and watched from there until 12:45 AM when band stopped. By time concert was over, all of restaurants in city jammed with people so they headed to Lawrence to drop off Neal and Shirley, eating in Ottawa, town along way, and talking until four thirty in morning. We to talk fast and furious to keep awake. Later they ate breakfast in Wamego and reached Manhattan at eight o'clock where my dad dropped off my mother on his way to start work, without sleep, at nine. What happened to woman I married? my dad once asked. My stepmother mentioned question while sorting old photos at her house in Kentucky last year. was conversation that she and my dad when they first met in Saint Louis in 1959 or 1960, consoling each other messes that their marriages become, and it's good question. My mother clearly was attracted to excitement that my dad offered. She liked pretty outfit with black purse and fancy undergarments, danced boogie-woogie, stayed up all to hear jazz, ate steak dinners, had more fun--as in phrase we more fun--at show Anchors Aweigh, clowned around with pepsters in her sorority, ate raw eggs heck of it, and asked my dad out to gold-digger's ball. …

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