I was a little shit(around 8) when Dad and I saw Satchmo (Louis Armstrong)in New Orleans. I was memorized with the set. I told Dad I wanted to meet him. My Dad was a get things done kinda guy, so he pulled me backstage. We come up to his security guard, big ol' black guy. Dad nudged me in the back, "Tell the man your business." I looked up at him and said, "I want to meet Mr. Armstrong, please." He looked at my Dad, then me and cracked a big smile, "Sho, hold on." He opens the dressing room door and goes in. LOL! You could smell the canna! Naaaaaaa.........not smell......it hit ya square in the face! LOL!
Hey Satch! There's a little white kid outside that wants to meet you." I couldn't hear if he said anything, but the door opened and the guard motioned us in. I was never shy, so I walked up to him sitting on a sofa and said, "I really liked your last set! It was cool!".....cool was my new tag word LOL! He and the other guys chuckled and he said, "Thank you very much!"
With that opening, I told him he was better that Herb Albert! They all looked at each other and busted out laughing! Looking back now, Louis and those guys were ripped! LOL!
One thing I can say about my Dad, If I REALLY wanted to do something, he did his best to make it happen. I never really asked for much and he made sure I really wanted it. Dad was friends with the local High School band director and he gave me "his test" . A week later I had a Bach trumpet and started lessons! I never played in the regular high school band, but joined a jazz ban and played with them until I went in the military.
When I was 17, I had my appendix removed. My life long Doc was the Surgeon. He said my abdominal muscles were the most difficult to cut through. LOL! Small town factoid: When I went into the military, I sold my trumpet to my Doc for his son. When he passed away, I contacted his son to express my condolence and love for his Dad. I asked if he still had the trumpet. He told me yeah and his son now plays it.