Bret, I remember one of those dates in Philly toward the end (1980s). Hank played a date at a club called The Upstairs on Broad Street. Pianist Sam Dockery played the gig with him. I couldn't get a ticket because the place was packed. So afterward I asked Sam how the gig went, and he told me Hank seemed tired and sat down a lot, but he was still on top of the music. Later, Mobley sat in at a jam session at Natalie's in town. The celebrated author/saxophonist James McBride (who wasn't celebrated at the time since his first book "The Color of Water" hadn't come out yet) was there writing an article on Philly jazz for the Philadelphia Inquirer. McBride totally trashed Mobley in print and when the story came out, the community ran the writer out of town. McBride ended up covering the Michael Jackson tour - the one where Jackson's hair caught on fire.
I was at that Upstairs gig, and Hank sounded very good, like he had just steeped right out of the Soul Station session. So did Sam Dockery, who seemed at the time mostly to have been playing weddings (I was in the band he was in) or solo piano (at the Frog). I was very surprised by what James McBride wrote when that article came out because it didn't resemble what I had just seen.
I'm glad Hank Mobley is getting a second look. The reexamination flatters him. The idea that Sonny and Trane and the apocolyptic tenor approach is the end-all and be-all really does the music an injustice.
This story is abosultely gutting. The quote about waiting for him to die says it all tbh. I've always thought of record labels as just business entities but reading about how they sat on his work while he was literally homeless puts things in perspective. Its a reminder that behind every jazz record theres a human story, and often its not a happy one.
We should keep in mind that Alfred Lion and Francis Wolff ran a monumental label that documented so much for 30 years of this music. The label was sold in 1965 so really had no stewardship until George Butler in 1971/2 (until 1978/9), who had some success with crossover records from Donald Byrd, Earl Klugh and Bobbi Humphrey.and then Michael Cuscuna entered the picture basically as archiver and a producer in 1975 (the brown paper bag 2-fers and then this classic series and then of course the Capitol and Mosaic years). In that time from 1965 til at least the late 70's, the overall US music landscape had changed so much, especially for jazz, and Blue Note as a label had changed corporate hands a few times; Liberty, United Artists, Capitol, EMI, to eventually Universal. Lions did record more records than he could reasonably put out or market in his time and I'll admit some of the reasons for not releasing a session that were not business related, seemed odd in hindsight, but it was basically a 1-2 man shop for years and in those days, having even a minor hit (Sidewinder or Song For My Father) could put you out of business. In many ways, it's a miracle they survived as long as they did and certainly a miracle that they documented the amount of pivotal artists and musical movements that they did, giving them all brilliant artwork and full liner notes and of course the Rudy Van Gelder sound. Anyway, I say all this to add some context to Hank and several other musicians whose worked languished in the vaults for too long. Hank also had his own demons to battle, but I can understand his anger, There is a great interview with Hank that Billy Banks did when he was on WKCR in the late 70s/early 80's I believe, with The Musician's Show. Someone somewhere I'm sure has it. Hank was off the scene for so long that people were calling in asking Billy when the interview was done and Billy kept having to say, "Hank is still alive, he's right here!" Listeners couldn't believe he was still with us. Hank transitioned in '86.
thanks for saying all that. As I said above, another reason they may not have wanted to release his stuff is that he couldn't support it by touring and playing. Mobley, IMHO, was his own victim. He didn't show up sometimes and he was overall a physical mess.
Thank you so much for your beautiful telling of this tragic story. Marion Brown introduced me to Hank in Paris in 1968. He struck me then as a real gentleman and a truly genuine human being. Reading about how his life unfolded since then was painful. Needless to say he deserved so much better.
Thank you for writing that. I knew he had addiction issues but didn't realize the extent of his later poverty, bitterness and homelessness. And being shafted by the industry.
That's really, really sad. It makes me quite angry, actually. It's been a few years since I've put a CD of his on, but I used to listen to him religiously.
I think I'll have a Mobley listening session. But the music will now be framed in a much more chastened context.
Very sad, and very cruel. I my opinion, Hank was a giant! We have over a dozen albums to celebrate his work, and “Soul Station” is a desert island disc. If you want to play many of his tunes, go to jazzleadsheets.com.
Ugh. I was told of a story when Hank tried to see a show at one of the jazz clubs and they ran him off as a homeless person. He managed to get from Philly to NY to see a show. ... One of the musicians recognized him and found him. Just UGH.
I worked in sales at Zapf’s Music Store in the Olney section of North Philly from 1982-1985, which was the largest full-service music store in the region at the time. One Friday evening, a Black gentleman came up to the band instrument counter carrying a well-worn tenor sax case with an instrument needing some TLC. In those days, we used forms in triplicate to write up the repairs. After placing his instrument on the counter and opening the case for me to find the serial number, I passed a pen to him to write his name on the form, on which he wrote: Henry Mobley. I honestly don’t recall him leaving a phone number or an address, or what brand/model tenor he had, but he sure thought of it as a dear friend as he had various small items of memorabilia clipped to the padded underside of the case lid. At that time, I knew of him from his work on a couple of Lee Morgan LPs. I expressed my gratitude for his work after introducing myself. I never saw him again but assume that he picked up his tenor after being repaired, but fondly remember that chance meeting and how he presented himself with grace and humility. It pains me to learn of this tragic reality at the end of Hank’s life.
Bret, I remember one of those dates in Philly toward the end (1980s). Hank played a date at a club called The Upstairs on Broad Street. Pianist Sam Dockery played the gig with him. I couldn't get a ticket because the place was packed. So afterward I asked Sam how the gig went, and he told me Hank seemed tired and sat down a lot, but he was still on top of the music. Later, Mobley sat in at a jam session at Natalie's in town. The celebrated author/saxophonist James McBride (who wasn't celebrated at the time since his first book "The Color of Water" hadn't come out yet) was there writing an article on Philly jazz for the Philadelphia Inquirer. McBride totally trashed Mobley in print and when the story came out, the community ran the writer out of town. McBride ended up covering the Michael Jackson tour - the one where Jackson's hair caught on fire.
I was at that Upstairs gig, and Hank sounded very good, like he had just steeped right out of the Soul Station session. So did Sam Dockery, who seemed at the time mostly to have been playing weddings (I was in the band he was in) or solo piano (at the Frog). I was very surprised by what James McBride wrote when that article came out because it didn't resemble what I had just seen.
Wow, Skip, you were at that gig? Wish I could have been there. Thanks for your comment. Bret's story was so very sad.
I'm glad Hank Mobley is getting a second look. The reexamination flatters him. The idea that Sonny and Trane and the apocolyptic tenor approach is the end-all and be-all really does the music an injustice.
Totally agree. It would make a good film about how the music business operates then and now
This story is abosultely gutting. The quote about waiting for him to die says it all tbh. I've always thought of record labels as just business entities but reading about how they sat on his work while he was literally homeless puts things in perspective. Its a reminder that behind every jazz record theres a human story, and often its not a happy one.
We should keep in mind that Alfred Lion and Francis Wolff ran a monumental label that documented so much for 30 years of this music. The label was sold in 1965 so really had no stewardship until George Butler in 1971/2 (until 1978/9), who had some success with crossover records from Donald Byrd, Earl Klugh and Bobbi Humphrey.and then Michael Cuscuna entered the picture basically as archiver and a producer in 1975 (the brown paper bag 2-fers and then this classic series and then of course the Capitol and Mosaic years). In that time from 1965 til at least the late 70's, the overall US music landscape had changed so much, especially for jazz, and Blue Note as a label had changed corporate hands a few times; Liberty, United Artists, Capitol, EMI, to eventually Universal. Lions did record more records than he could reasonably put out or market in his time and I'll admit some of the reasons for not releasing a session that were not business related, seemed odd in hindsight, but it was basically a 1-2 man shop for years and in those days, having even a minor hit (Sidewinder or Song For My Father) could put you out of business. In many ways, it's a miracle they survived as long as they did and certainly a miracle that they documented the amount of pivotal artists and musical movements that they did, giving them all brilliant artwork and full liner notes and of course the Rudy Van Gelder sound. Anyway, I say all this to add some context to Hank and several other musicians whose worked languished in the vaults for too long. Hank also had his own demons to battle, but I can understand his anger, There is a great interview with Hank that Billy Banks did when he was on WKCR in the late 70s/early 80's I believe, with The Musician's Show. Someone somewhere I'm sure has it. Hank was off the scene for so long that people were calling in asking Billy when the interview was done and Billy kept having to say, "Hank is still alive, he's right here!" Listeners couldn't believe he was still with us. Hank transitioned in '86.
thanks for saying all that. As I said above, another reason they may not have wanted to release his stuff is that he couldn't support it by touring and playing. Mobley, IMHO, was his own victim. He didn't show up sometimes and he was overall a physical mess.
Thank you so much for your beautiful telling of this tragic story. Marion Brown introduced me to Hank in Paris in 1968. He struck me then as a real gentleman and a truly genuine human being. Reading about how his life unfolded since then was painful. Needless to say he deserved so much better.
Thank you for writing that. I knew he had addiction issues but didn't realize the extent of his later poverty, bitterness and homelessness. And being shafted by the industry.
That's really, really sad. It makes me quite angry, actually. It's been a few years since I've put a CD of his on, but I used to listen to him religiously.
I think I'll have a Mobley listening session. But the music will now be framed in a much more chastened context.
Very sad, and very cruel. I my opinion, Hank was a giant! We have over a dozen albums to celebrate his work, and “Soul Station” is a desert island disc. If you want to play many of his tunes, go to jazzleadsheets.com.
tragic, tear-inducing read...poignant and important essay, Bret!
Ugh. I was told of a story when Hank tried to see a show at one of the jazz clubs and they ran him off as a homeless person. He managed to get from Philly to NY to see a show. ... One of the musicians recognized him and found him. Just UGH.
Thanks Bret for sharing this sad yet not surprising story.
Another sad example of what corporate greed brings to the table.
THANK YOU, BRET.
Reminds me of Van Gogh.
One of my favorite tenor players.
I worked in sales at Zapf’s Music Store in the Olney section of North Philly from 1982-1985, which was the largest full-service music store in the region at the time. One Friday evening, a Black gentleman came up to the band instrument counter carrying a well-worn tenor sax case with an instrument needing some TLC. In those days, we used forms in triplicate to write up the repairs. After placing his instrument on the counter and opening the case for me to find the serial number, I passed a pen to him to write his name on the form, on which he wrote: Henry Mobley. I honestly don’t recall him leaving a phone number or an address, or what brand/model tenor he had, but he sure thought of it as a dear friend as he had various small items of memorabilia clipped to the padded underside of the case lid. At that time, I knew of him from his work on a couple of Lee Morgan LPs. I expressed my gratitude for his work after introducing myself. I never saw him again but assume that he picked up his tenor after being repaired, but fondly remember that chance meeting and how he presented himself with grace and humility. It pains me to learn of this tragic reality at the end of Hank’s life.
Hank Mobley is one of those players who when playing on someone else’s album have you saying, “Who the hell is that?”
Thanks for posting this. Mobley is my favorite tenor.