This may look like a nondescript truckstop, but jazz history was arguably changed forever in this spot. Being a native of Kansas City and a lover of jazz, I’ve known about Charlie “Bird” Parker my whole life. I won’t give you his entire bio, and some details on his early career and the events related to this picture are sketchy.
He was born in Kansas City in 1920. In his mid-teens he dropped out of Lincoln High School to pursue life as a jazz musician, playing the alto sax. He didn’t stand out in those early years. In a famous incident in early 1936, he flubbed up an improv sequence on stage that infuriated Count Basie Band drummer Papa Jo Jones so badly that he flung a drum cymbal at Parkers feet in a sign of disrespect.
Later that year Parker joined a band playing at the opening of Musser’s Ozark Tavern near Eldon Missouri. On the trip down, their car crashed and Parker suffered some severe injuries. During his recovery they prescribed him painkillers that probably led to his addiction to heroin and subsequent untimely death at 34. Some accounts have Parker playing several summer seasons here. Since Eldon was a “sundown” town, meaning African-Americans were not expected to still be there after the sun went down, he was stuck with nothing to do but practice. Parker came back to Kansas City a far better musician and shortly after moved to New York City and then pretty much invented the bebop style, and changed jazz forever.
I’ve made several images at the “Bird Lives” sculpture by artist Robert Graham. It’s located down the street from the American Jazz Museum in the historic 18th and Vine district in Kansas City, MO. This is one from a few years ago. I've always wanted to catch a dramatic storefront moving in, but haven't been that lucky yet.
The second image is the truckstop at the former location of Musser’s Ozark Tavern. I figured out where it had been back in the summer, but not wanting to deal with the mongrel hordes of tourists that invade the Lake area, I put off checking it out. I was hoping to discover some old remnants of the resort, but found nothing. I knew this would not be a spectacular hang-on-the-wall image, but the history nerd in me thought it might be interesting. I’m guessing not too many other Parker fans have made this pilgrimage. I’d like to say I could hear the ghostly whispers of a saxophone, but the only sounds present were the rumbling of idling semis. All I could do was play a Charlie Parker playlist on the stereo. I thought it was fitting to lead off with the song “Cherokee”, which was what he was practicing when the inspiration for what was to become the bebop style of jazz struck. It turned out to be one of those nearly perfect moments, and this year we need all of those we can get.