Jazz Quartet

There is nothing like a great jazz quartet. There is the changing of piano chords which lead the entire piece. Those chords are accompanied by drums which keep the music moving with their thumping and crashing. Then you have a muted trumpet that the musician is attempting to keep quiet but it still finds a way to always come through with strength and punch. Lastly, in the background, there is always a brilliant bass line moving along unnoticed but always wanting a solo.

See, me and my brothers were just like jazz. I was the piano chords, as I lead us through the thick and thin. My brother Lewis was like the muted trumpet, always a smooth talker but he loved to run his mouth and stick out. When you run your mouth as much as he did, you needed someone who had the presence and was ready to fight. That presence was Arthur. Arthur was the jazz drums who always seemed to be crashing and thumping into someone or something. Then last was Robert, Robert was the bass line. Robert was brilliant but was always in the background. He wanted to have a solo but never did. Until one night back in September of 1951.

Rain fell on the busy streets of a Philadelphia which hadn’t seen life like this since before the war. The streets were full of chatter as people raced to get inside the nearest dry place. Down on 38th street, I had already found shelter in an upscale jazz club. The jazz club was filled with smoke and the sound of glasses clinking, people laughing, and that smooth jazz filled the air. People were happy to be alive and you could feel it here tonight. At a table I sat with my three brothers. 12 hours ago we were four men trying to figure out a plan. An hour ago, we committed murder. A decision that we were making for the sake of justice and not blood.

We were living like kings tonight and we planned on living this way forever. My brothers joked and chatted as I sat quietly at the head of the table. They sounded and looked like they were sitting at the fifth-grade lunch table all over. Lewis’s cologne stung my nose. He always wore too much because he was convinced it would get him a girl. I sat quietly and uneasily as I thought about our next move. I heard muffled sirens outside… what if we got caught? My head turned back and forth like an oscillating fan on a hot summer’s day. I looked from my carefree brothers to the door and back. Every time the door opened to the club, my heart skipped as if you bumped the needle on the record player. The mellow jazz was the only thing keeping me calm as I fidgeted with things in my pocket. First was a set of parking tickets. Tickets I had accumulated while visiting my wife. Second was a knife. It was a knife my dad gave me when I was 11 for gutting trout. See this knife was dull but it always gave me a sense of safety anyway. It was red with the initials PWB inscribed in it. The blade had become a dull silver over the years.

I heard the jazz still playing but now I felt the jazz. I felt as the bass thumped thumped in my chest. More people were coming into the club…THUMP THUMP… My brother Robert shifts in his chair …THUMP THUMP… a glass shatters…THUMP THUMP…More muffled sirens outside …THUMP THUMP… Then the music cut out and a crash sounded out through the club like a car crash in a tunnel. “Everyone down! Bennett brothers you are under arrest for the murder of Antonio Marcelli!” My heart had stopped with the music. Our time on top was about to end. Chaos filled the club as people screamed and rushed out the front door. I put my hand in my pocket and felt the knife, the one that gave me confidence. The one my Dad used to gut trout with. I didn’t want our time to be over. I was the leader and it was time to make a decision. Accept our arrest and go to jail or fight with a small chance of getting away. I never was a gambling man, but tonight, tonight I felt lucky. I felt for the knife in my pocket and as I stood up I heard my brother Robert shout, “Don’t move brother, it’s the end”. As I turned I saw Robert hitting Arthur and Lewis with a small club he had concealed in his jacket. I couldn’t believe it. He lunged at me and as he came toward me the candle in the middle of the table flickered and reflected of a police badge inside Robert’s coat. Our brother was a cop. He set us up. He betrayed us. Before I could say anything, the club came across my head and the following scenes were a blur. The only Thump Thump was the thumping of the blood coursing from my heart to the rest of my body. …THUMP THUMP…I’m dragged out of the club…THUMP THUMP…The cops laugh at us as we lay helplessly In the backseat of a small cop car …THUMP THUMP…Sirens again…THUMP… I reach for the handle on the door…THUMP… the police puts his hand on his club and…THUMP…Everything goes black

I woke up next to two of my brothers in a jail cell with just one small window. The floor was cold and damp and the taste of blood filled my mouth. The first question I had when I came back to was, “why did he betray us?” As I had this thought I heard familiar footsteps coming down the corridor. A unique clip clap of shoes with a swagger that was uniquely distinct. I had heard this same clip clap on the floor of my kitchen at home, the same clip clap on the floor of the wooden floorboards on a Sunday morning, as well as on the floor of the upscale club earlier….it was Robert and he was whistling a familiar jazz tune.

So it was planned that they would vanish now and then

And you must pay before you get them back again

That’s what storms were made for

And you shouldn’t be afraid for

Every time it rains it rains

Pennies from heaven

Don’t you know each cloud contains

Pennies from heaven

You’ll find your fortune falling all over town

Be sure that your umbrella is upside down

Trade them for a package of sunshine and flowers

If you want the things you love

You must have showers

So when you hear it thunder

Don’t run under a tree

There’ll be pennies from heaven for you and me

You must have showers

So when you hear it thunder

Don’t run under a tree

There’ll be pennies from heaven for you and me