Rare Jazz Vinyl, Sonny Rollins, MOMA, Me & Bob Porter

I just logged in to my eBay watch list and the first three items were recent sales from the seller 1molecularrman. Prices seemed really high to me, so perhaps he has a great reputation, or a magic touch, or maybe he is just bobdjukic incognito. Anyway, these were the records: Thelonious Monk/Sonny Rollins, Prestige 7075. This was an original New York yellow label. The record was listed in VG++ condition and the cover was VG+. The final price was $1,375. Based on a quick look over at Popsike, that is the highest price ever recorded for this record. And, to note, neither the record nor the cover was in near mint condition.

JR Monterose, The Message, Jaro JAM 5004. This was an original pressing in VG++ condition for the record and the cover. The final price was $1,007. Not a record . . . well, yes, it’s a record, but not a record price. That would have to top $1,275. And, from the same seller, Miles Davis, Relaxin’, Prestige 7129. This, too, was an original New York yellow label. The final price was $967. The highest price for Relaxin’ was $1,685, per Popsike. One more: Miles Davis, Cookin’, Prestige 7094. Another New York yellow label original, VG++ for the record and VG+ for the cover. Final price was $843. Very close to the previous high of $877.

I said I owed you one more Sonny Rollins story and here it is.

There was an announcement: Sonny Rollins would be doing a free solo concert in the garden of the Museum of Modern Art on July 19, 1985. “We’re going,” Danny and I said to one another simultaneously. There were no tickets sold in advance, just general admission, so we figured we’d get there early, probably two hours before the beginning of the concert. When we got there, the line began at the back entrance to the museum on 54^th Street, stretched down to 5^thAvenue, snaked around 5^th Avenue to 53^rd Street, all the way up 53^rd and past 6^th Avenue. For those of you keeping track, that’s probably the equivalent of four or five city blocks, probably a quarter of a mile. And this was two hours before the concert.

We were pessimistic about our chances of getting in, but we dutifully got on line and waited our turn. We moved maybe two or even three blocks after they opened the gates when the announcement came that the venue was closed, sorry, but you won’t be able to get in. Danny said, “Let’s go home.” I said, “Follow me.”

I didn’t tell Danny my plan, just, “Follow me.”

We walked down 53^rd across 5^th Avenue up 54^th. I went up to the admission area and said this. “Hello. I’m press. My name is Bob Porter. I should have two passes for me and my guest.” I said this with a poker face and not a trace of uncertainty. The person looked at me, smiled, and said: “Of course Mr. Porter. Come right in.” We walked in with confidence and as soon as we got in, we tried to blend in with the crowd. No problem. We saw the concert and of course it was awesome, memorialized in “The Solo Album” released by Milestone a few months after the concert.

Where did I get the balls, and why Bob Porter? I got the balls because I needed to see that concert. I had been a journalist for several years, and just knew how to play that game. Why Bob Porter, who was about 8 inches taller than me, and about 75 pounds heavier? Honestly, I knew Bob slightly and his was the first name I could think of as I rounded the corner of 53^rd  and 5^th and devised my scheme. I was just lucky that Bob didn’t show up that night. Come to think of it, I never did thank him. Oh well.