I was reminded of Doug by good ol’ Google recently (I have a notification set up to inform me when Doug or Dad comes up in the news). There was this nice review of a recent posthumous release, There Will Never Be Another You of a live duo outing of Doug and Nicolai Gromin (who also died recently) from cafe Sabine in 1993. Here is a link to the article.
This got me reflecting on Doug a bit during that time. As I mentioned in a previous blog, my brother and I led largely separate lives. When I was in high school, Doug was already out the door starting his career in Europe at the tender age of 20. He returned to New York in 1979 with his lovely new wife, Hannah (also recently deceased, tragically) to record the Jimmy Raney/Doug Raney albums, Stolen Moments and Duets on Steeplechase. I recall playing for him a bit and played the only few songs I knew, including the torturously over my head, Giant Steps. He wasn’t impressed. The only comment he had was, “Why do you go to the most complicated song? Play something more simple.” I slinked away from the piano knowing of course that he was right.
Doug would not return to New York for 14 years. He continued his career successfully in the 80s in Copenhagen. But underneath things weren’t good. Doug got hooked on heroin and other derivatives and was also drinking heavily. I heard about this back in the States – from other musician friends -which is disconcerting. Still, unlike Dad who couldn’t function while under the influence, Doug seemed to manage his career despite this and continue to grow as a player and be influential on the jazz scene there. He was really a local hero having cut his legendary trio records with Chet Baker and gigged with some of the very best players in the world such as Johnny Griffin, Cedar Walton, Hank Jones and Dexter Gordon.
Doug managed to start getting his life together in the 90s. He remarried to a young lady, Tine who was really looking to help him kick drugs and turn his life around. In May of 1993, he returned to the States. As it turned out this period would become an important node in the Raney family that would not be repeated ever again.
At that point, I was actually managing to be a pretty good jazz pianist and was part of jam session band at a Brooklyn club called Dean Street with some great players : Craig Bailey, Kenny Rampton, Dan Faulk, Ugonna Okegwo and drummer Bruce Cox. (Craig and Dan are featured in the above photo). Some heavyweights would drop in, Roy Hargrove, Steve Coleman, James Spaulding, Billy Childs and Rashied Ali, just to name a few. Also some soon to be noted young players such as Seamus Blake and George Colligan.
At the same time I was also working on mending fences between my father and Doug who had a severe falling out during a tour in Europe in the early 80s where my father fell back into boozing and ruined the tour. Between myself and Dad’s companion Ola Miracle, we managed to convince him to come to New York and stay with me in my apartment at 95th Street. Plus he would get to meet his new granddaughter, Talia who was just a year old.
My father staying with me was an eye-opener. His behavior had changed substantially because of his hearing disorder. He was living more and more inside his own head, not really interacting in the true sense as much as running thru oft traveled dialogues. I also found out something I didn’t know about him, I didn’t realize he wouldn’t take showers, only baths. In our apartment it was the only option, so he would just run the shower, pop his hand in and give himself a couple of quick wipes.
My brother, was going thru a bit of culture shock. It was such an overwhelming experience for him to finally come back home again but to experience it so quickly was almost like tripping on New York. I played for him this jazz tape that was a punking spoof of a Rancheros bandleader calling up to hire a real jazz bassist named Shelley for payment in quesadillas and a good time (can’t for the life of me remember the name of the comedians responsible, Maybe the Jerky Boys?). He was laughing so hard to the point of it upsetting him. He literally told me, “please, please… stop”. It was a dose of American humor that he could not get in Denmark. Again it was like tripping on New York, he could only take it a smaller dose.
One special night in Dean St in Brooklyn, all the Raneys would get together for the first and last time ever. Me, Doug, Dad, Mom, my mother’s companion Bob Gamble, Doug’s wife Tine, my wife Yajaira and my daughter, Talia. Also in tow was my father’s close friend, guitarist, Howie Collins and my brother’s childhood friends. But it wasn’t just the Raneys. Everyone showed up to the gig. This was one of the busiest nights ever to date at the club. With tons of people milling about both inside and outside the club. Perhaps word got out about the Raneys showing up I’m not sure.
My brother sat in for quite a few tunes, playing great as always. My father was suffering heavily from his hearing disorder and no one expected him to play. But suddenly in the middle of a blues he jumped up and sat in on my brother’s guitar and the house went nuts. A funny thing happened with bandleader Craig Bailey who was talking about us Raneys. He dropped the comment that “the Marsalis family had nothing on the Raney family”. In an ironic twist about 10 minutes later, trombonist Delfeayo Marsalis walked in to the club. This was such a special night for us it’s hard to describe.
We saw my father off back to Louisville and Doug and he embraced warmly. He told my brother, “So lovely to see you again, Doug”. It was so moving and in retrospect, tragic. By November my father suffered a stroke and would remain in a catatonic state until his death in May 1995. My brother traveled back to Louisville to visit Dad in the hospital. He was convinced that Dad was waiting for him to come back so that he could pass on. I’m not sure if that was true but he did pass soon after. My mother would die one year later.
My brother and Tine arranged a tour for us in 1994 in Denmark and then Doug would return to New York in 1995, 1996, 1997 and 1998. After which everything fell apart and we would never see other again with Doug’s passing 23 years after this special night. We had no idea that we would needed to bottle that moment in time in the late spring of 1993. But that is life in its essence – tragic, wonderful, fleeting, heartwarming and heartbreaking all at once.
*Note. For those of you who read an earlier version of the article, you might notice an edit of Attila Zoller from the article. After 26 years, the old memory gets a little faulty. Attila was not able to make it that night in Dean St. though we did see him during Dad’s visit. The four of us had a session at Attila’s in his apartment in Jackson Heights. RIP Attila
