The Catalyst: Learning Dixieland the Besotted Way

From Historical Artifacts

Friday afternoon in Santa Cruz meant Dixieland music, and I can prove it. Every Friday there was a ritual, a subtext to the mating ritual that we had back before the AIDS and before the Kahoutek and even before the Herpes. The center of all this pre-ritual ritual was the Catalyst, on lower Pacific Avenue, which used to be the dining room at the Palomar Hotel, which was on upper Pacific Avenue. The Catalyst was the scene of my first jazz gig, with Dave Molinari’s band, and also the first time, on that very gig, that I “hooked up” with a girl after I played. That girl was Jan, and nearly 30 years later . . .

Well, that was not where I was heading with this, although it’s instructive.

So after college when I went to Cabrillo College rather than Los Angeles or New York. Cabrillo had a great jazz ensemble. When Sofrito burst onto the scene, I had my fifteen minutes of fame. Every Friday, though, I sat in with Jake Stock and the Abalone Stompers at the Catalyst. Above is a photo, taken by Laigh Langley, of the regular gig at the Catalyst. Laigh was in town to play with the Glenn Miller band, which I had left a half year before. I was there to learn tunes and styles from Jake, a rascal of an old man, and his son Jackson, one of the most fluid trombonists I ever heard. I gladly worked for beer, and developed a taste for Anchor Porter, which the club supplied us with in pitchers.

The odd thing about the gig this particular Friday is that few of the regulars are in the picture. I’m guessing Jake had a gig elsewhere, perhaps in Monterey, where he lived.

Bill Newman is the guitarist. He used to play in Desi Arnaz’s band and at the time--despite the fact that some of us were playing for nothing--he was the president of Local 346 of the American Federation of Musicians, which had an office up the street. Bob Kent is the drummer, Alan O’dea on tuba, one of the five guys named Moe on trombone, Lewis Kaiser on trumpet, unknown on clarinet, and me on the alto saxophone.

Those were the days. Cheap rents are long gone in Santa Cruz, a casualty of the Loma Prieta earthquake. The Catalyst still stands, but, I suspect, nothing like it was.