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rent party jazz

Every morning as the sun was coming up, sonny went to work for the coal man. “I sells mah coal two bits a sack,” the coal man cried out as they drove slowly the streets of the French quarter. Sonny wished he were back in his warm bed, but he knew he badly he and mama needed the extra money. Even though he would spend the rest of the day in the school. Sonny started the day like a working man.

Sonny’s job was to jump down and drag the sacks into the alleys. Then shovel the coal down the chutes. He made ten cents a day. Seven days a week. His mother worked in a fish canning factory. All day long she packed fancy little fish, earning a penny for each can she filled. When sonny and the coal man drove through Jackson square, they would hear trumpet players blowing their horns. The musicians played any tune people wanted to hear, hoping listeners would drop a few coins into their hats.

One morning sonny came home to find mama sitting at the kitchen table. She looked like she had been crying. “what’s the matter mama?” sonny asked. “are you sick?” “worse than sick, sonny. I’ve been let go from my job. There are some hard times and folks aren’t buying much fancy fish. Might be there four months before they need these hands again.” Sonny’s heart sank. Rent day would be coming soon, and the rent man didn’t care whether you had a job or not. All he wanted was his money. If they missed paying the rent by just one day, the rent man would change the locks and sell off their belongings at the public auction. “I’ll get a second job mama,” sonny said. “I’ll quite … “ “no, sonny,” mama interrupted. “I got two weeks to find something else. You stay at school and learn everything you can- everything so things will be better for you.”

After school that day, sonny wandered through the streets of the quarter, tired and sad. There had to be something he could do to help raise the rent money. In Jackson square a huge crowd had gathered around one man playing his horn. Even from the back of the crowd, sonny could hear how fine the music was. And no wonder the music was so good, so sweet, so clear. Everybody in New Orleans knew about smiling jack. He had played his horn all around the country, even in the jazz clubs up north. Smiling jack looked like the happiest man in the world blowing his magic horn, collecting bucketful’s of coins. He seemed so happy, sonny felt even worse about mama and rent money. The next day and the next, sonny found himself back in the Jackson square after school. Smiling jack’s music was too good to ignore. Sonny always stood toward the front of the crowd, though he still felt too sad and worried to clap or sing along.

On the third day sonny stayed until the music was over and people began drifting the square. “hey, young man, what’s your name?” smiling jack asked as he stepped down from the platform. “sonny Comeaux, sir.” “you need a special tune, sonny? You’re looking mighty down. Sure wish I could get those hands clapping.” “I love your music, smiling jack,” sonny said. “but a tune won’t solve my problems.” “problems? What kind of problems does a boy like you have?” sonny explained about his mother losing her job, about the rent man who would put them out on the street if they missed paying the rent. Smiling jack suddenly looked serious. “back in Mississippi, where I come from, they did the same thing to colored folks all the time. But then we find a way to fight back, pay the rent man and have the world’s best party at the same time.” “how did you do that?” sonny asked. “all the neighbors got together and throw themselves a rent party,” smiling jack said. “they baked sweet potato pies, fixed up some catfish and greens, then brought the food to the house where help was needed. They put out a big empty bucket, too, and soon someone who knew how to pluck a fine banjo or blow a jazzy horn would start playing- make people sing and dance and forget their worries for a while. By the end of the night, people had dropped enough money in that bucket to put the old rent man back in his place.” “that sounds like a mighty fine idea,” sonny said. “but where am I going to find somebody who’ll play for mama and me, play for poor people he doesn’t even know?” smiling jack faked a frown and tapped his foot. “some people say I play a pretty mean trumpet myself.” For the first time in days, sonny smiled.

When sonny got home, he found mama sitting near the stove. “no luck again today, sonny,” she said. “but I’ll keep looking. I’ll find me that job to keep us going.” Sonny stirred coals with a poker, trying to warm the damp room. “maybe you won’t need that job right away, mama,” sonny said. “we’re going to have a party tonight and raise all the money we need for the rent, every last nickel and dime. smiling jack told me how to do it. “don’t be talking such foolishness, sonny, even if you’re just trying to cheer me up,” mama said, pulling her shawl tighter around her shoulders. “it’s not foolishness, mama,” sonny insisted. “I’m going to prove it to you.”

Sonny nocked on all the neighbor’s doors, told them about the party and asked them to bring whatever food they could spare. He told them to get ready for the best music in the world. They were all going to meet the great smiling jack! On his way home, sonny found an empty bucket in an alley. He put it on the floor just inside the doorway and sat down beside mama to wait. Mama shake her head, thinking her poor son had just plain lost his mind.

A little while later sonny and mama heard cheering and clapping in the street. Then someone nocked loudly on the door. “Mrs. Comeaux, I sure am pleased to meet you.” Smiling jack, trumpet in hand, bowed to mama. “well, I’ll be! I thought my boy had gone full moon crazy,” mama said, hardly believing her eyes. “I sure love your music, smiling jack. I surely do.” Before mama could say another word, smiling jack pulled the bucket toward him, raised his trumpet, and started blowing one of sonny’s favorite songs, “bourbon street rag.”

The house and the street were soon filled with people. There was more food than sonny had ever seen at one time, enough for everyone who was busy clapping and singing and dancing. All the neighbors had come to the party! Sonny saw the Leblanc twins running through the crowd and he saw the oldest woman in the neighborhood. Mrs. Clairveaux, sitting in the chair, tapping along to the music with her cane.

Just one thing bothered sonny at first. He heard only a few coins drop into the bucket. But as the night went on and the party started heating up, he heard more and more and more. At last smiling jack stopped playing. Then, without any music, he started singing, “when the saints go marching in. when the saints go marching in. oh I love to be in that number. Oh when the saints go marching in. boom boom boom boom.” The whole crowd joined in, singing the verses. Then the beautiful chorus. Sonny felt like he was in another world. A place where the music and the singing he loved would never stop. When everyone had left, the bucket was brimming with coins. Mama counted all the money they needed for the rent and handed the rest to smiling jack. “I thank you much, smiling jack,” she said. “I took what I need to see us through. This belongs to you.”

Smiling jack shook his head. “no ma’am. That money belongs to anybody who needs it for rent or food. I’ve already been paid. This was the most fun I’ve had in a long time. Wherever I go from now on, I’m going to play at least one rent party like this. We’ll show those rent men how good folks help each other.”

Sonny walked smiling jack back to Jackson square. “thank you, sonny Comeaux, for one of the happiest nights of my life,” smiling jack said. “I sure hope to see you the next time I come to town. I know just where to find you now.” They shook hands and hugged like old friends.

Sonny walked home slowly, wishing the night would never end. He was glad he had listened to mama. If he had quit school and taken a second job, he would never have met smiling jack, never have learned about bringing the neighbors together for a rent party. It made him think about how much people could do for one another, if they put their mind and heart to it. Sonny figured he would stay in school and learn everything in his books and lessons. And maybe, just maybe, he’d learn to play the trumpet, too.

Beneath the bright glow of the street lamps, sonny swayed back and forth, pretending he could blow a mean horn.