Some life stories are simply too ornate and unbelievable to invent. To say that Phoebe Jacobs was a central part of the jazz milieu for nearly seven decades is an understatement. Born to a family involved in the music business, Phoebe was well positioned to play a role but it was to be her drive, her charm, or perhaps her unabashed honesty that later propelled her to greatness. I believe greatness is indescribable and can only be felt but, if I had to sum it up it, greatness is making the lives of others better and sharing beauty when you have it in your hands...
Phoebe’s story is well known — having worked in jazz clubs surrounding herself with the likes of Billie Holiday, Nat “King” Cole, Cy Oliver, Sarah Vaughn, and ….need I mention anyone else? Phoebe created the Louis Armstrong Educational Foundation and was also a founder of Jazz Foundation of America. Meeting Phoebe I can honestly say changed my life. She was a rock and pure joy incarnate.
I came across Phoebe in 2005, when I had the honor of winning the ASCAP award for composition. The honor is granted annually by the Louis Armstrong Foundation to one student in New Orleans. I was happy to win the award but quickly realized my scholarship didn’t matter— hurricane Katrina saw to that! In the end, my studies in NoLa were thwarted and I was forced to evacuate up to New York. The ceremony for the ASCAP awards were held that year in Lincoln Center (NYC) and I attended with my mother and my aunt, both of whom were thrilled with the glitz and glamour of the occasion that included honoring Billy Joel and other prominent musicians and film score composers. On that day, I was presented the award by the great Dr. Billy Taylor (pictured above) and I was more than humbled by his greatness. The only issue that was perhaps overlooked was that my award was now ‘void’ since I was no longer officially a student in New Orleans. Prompted by my parents to rectify the issue, I phoned Phoebe’s office a few months after the ceremony. She picked up on the first ring—something I learned was an incredible habit of hers through the years.
I called a few times that year to both Phoebe and her daughter. They were so kind to me and also saddened by my experience telling me they would certainly make an exception for the award, and that the money that came with it, would stand. Phoebe told me to call her anytime to let her know where I was performing around New York and we had the chance to meet several times in social situations including at clubs around town and at the annual holiday party thrown by Mercedes Ellington of the illustrious Ellington family. That’s a whole blog post of itself! Phoebe was a delight, and I loved going up to her, kissing her on the cheek, and getting a quick story or hearing her take on the group performing that night. She was cutthroat and informed in her assessments, something I miss from society as a whole. Probably the most hilarious interaction I had with her I will detail below. She left me hanging just cracking up and filled with wonderment about my life in the jazz community and its rich past that I was only beginning to understand.
I didn’t want to bug Phoebe, after all she was a luminary and who the hell was I? So I waited for a concert that was big enough to phone her up and tell her about it. I called Phoebe’s office and she picked up on the first half of a ring and her way of being terse on the phone was hilarious to me. She must have been about 85 years old at the time. She answered,
“Phoebe Jacobs.”
“Phoebe hi, this is Rob Duguay the bassist.”
“Tell me what you want darling.”
“Well, you told me to call you when I have a nice concert around town and I have big show coming up with my own group featuring saxophonist Steve Wilson. I thought you might like to come.”
“Tell me the details, darling, I’m ready.”
“Ok, well it’s on Saturday, November 27th. The spot is called Galapagos and it’s a huge place where I’m also collaborating with a Brazilian artist named Ernani Silva. It will be from 4-7pm.”
“What’s the address, darling?”
“It’s One Front Street, DUMBO, Brooklyn and…” before I could finish my sentence she interjected prior to hanging up with something only a New Yorker could understand.
“Oh, fuhgetabout it, dahlin’, call me when you play in Manhattan.” CLICK!