Brad Terry
Maine jazz clarinet magician Brad Terry sent me an email today regarding the passing of his peer Don Doane. Brad asked if, by way of tribute, I’d share this passage from his book “I Feel More Like I Do Now Than I Did Yesterday.” It’s all about Doane.
The unmistakable, instantly recognizable gruff voice sounded angry. “Hey Brad. It’s Don. They said I can’t play this Friday.” The emphasis was on the ‘they’ and anger directed at ‘them’, the staff at the VA home. Don had a stroke twelve years ago and moved to the Veterans Administration Home in Scarborough three years ago, when his care become to much for his wife Barbra to handle.
Peter Herman and I have been twice to ‘sit in’ with Don who practices his trombone every day from 1:00–2:00 in the afternoon. They had told him since he had been sick in bed for several days that he’d have to give up our session. His reaction sounded 100% like Don Doane.
When I first moved permanently to Maine I thought pursuing music was probably not in the cards but soon found out about weekly jam sessions at the Bridgeway Restaurant in Portland, run by legendary trombonist Don Doane. Don had played with Maynard Ferguson, Woody Herman, Stan Kenton, all over, but gave it up, and returned to Maine to teach and be with his family. Knowing a bit about jam session etiquette I ventured in, put my name on the list and waited patiently for my turn to play.
Don Doane
I think Don appreciated my more professional attitude and that I was okay with whatever tune was called. He was very pleasant with me afterwards and invited me back. I returned as often as I could. It was only a few months later that he called me to play with him and some real pros at a gig in New Hampshire. Tommy Gallant, Les Harris Sr., Phil Wilson, and Herb Pomeroy were four that I remember. We stopped on the way home at the HoJo’s on the Maine Turnpike. We ordered some food and my drink came with a cherry with a stem. I couldn’t resist and while the waitress watched I tied the stem into a knot in my mouth. The waitress asked Don if he could do that. He answered, “No. But I can do a tongue stand.”
Don Doane
He set me up with other gigs and once after a Bridgeway session he asked if I could stick around and play the evening gig in the dining room with Tom Bucci Sr. “Sure,” I said. The gig started off well and we had some people up front asking for tunes; the music was fun. But soon the owner Tony Notis came up to me and said, “Stop playing jazz. I don’t want any jazz in here.” I looked at Tom—he looked at me. I packed up and went home. When I called Don to tell him what happened he laughed his head off, thought it was hysterical. Our friendship was already pretty secure.
We had a nice thing going about money: we never talked about it. If Don called me he’d tell me the details: where, when, what to wear, who was playing, etc. but never how much. At the end of the gig he’d hand me a check or a wad of money. I’d shove it in my wallet; never counted it or looked at the check ’til I got home; I knew it was right. He did the same with me; just put the money in his wallet with a, “Thank you.”
When Peter and I saw him in November of 2013 he excitedly told me that he had been walking for the first time in twelve years. He was a super basketball player and was trim like a Marine, known to have been a bit of a brawler, an avid athlete and powerhouse trombone player; so much energy! So I understand his frustration and anger being told by anyone he couldn’t play. What a trooper and wonderful friend.
Thanks for everything Don.
By Brad’s book online HERE. Believe me, it’s worth the dough.