Because dancing has no place there, patrons pay no 20% cabaret tax at. The Embers in New York (161 E. 54th). But who needs pedal exercise in the presence of Teddy Wilson, the latest luminary in a glittering gallery of jazz-masters who have played the Embers? The unobtrusive decor, in Recreation Room Knotty Pine, lulls the sense of sight so the sense of hearing gets full play. Trudy Baer fools around with show tunes at the piano from 6 P.M., giving way to the virtuoso about 8:45. Meanwhile, you've eaten heartily of Chef Manuel Diego's small but choice menu: roast beef, steaks and barbecued ribs. For your dossier of offbeat drinks, bartender Dick Donohue submits the Derby cocktail, viz.: 1 oz. 86 proof bourbon, 1/4 oz. Benedictine, the juice of 1/2 lemon and 1/4 spoonful sugar; shake well with ice, strain into cocktail glass. The fans file in and flip every night till 4 A.M.
Jack Fields, who has tooted trumpet with a lot of name bands, provides a proper sort of setting in Philadelphia for the cool, impeccable school of modern musical machinations. His Blue Note (1502 Ridge) is a one-room spa in which the crisp, ordered pursuit of notes takes place every night of the week from 9 until the wee, small hours. For six years now, a goateed coterie has assembled in a hushed, respectful atmosphere far removed from the raucousness of most gin-and-jazz mills. No one speaks except maybe to mumble a brand name to a scurrying waitress. The night we stopped in, Hampton Hawes was bobbing his satanic beard over the keyboard and searching out brave, new chords while carrot-topped Red Mitchell (bass) and volcanic Chuck Thompson (drums) scouted his explorations – all very precise, fastidious and, we thought, of particular appeal to knowing jazzophiles.
New Orleans jazz – played almost the way it sounded before all the cats trudged up river to Chicago – is ladled out in great steaming portions at the Famous Door (339 Bourbon). A fabled grogshop and landmark in its own right, the Door swings nightly to the homemade ancestral jazz of Santo Pecora ("Mr. Tailgate") and his Five Rhythm Kings, to say nothing of the happy skirlings of "Smiling Joe" and his Rhythm and Blue Boys. The two bands alternately wail out a river of jazz every night from 8:30 to 3:30 next morning with nary a pause. Go ahead and request your favorite tune, but it better be dixieland, one of the oldies belted across from the elevated bandstand behind the bar for nigh onto 23 years. The jazzmen play as they feel, and generally they feel a little bit better than great.
