West Coast Showcase

Two of LA's finest working out at a Pacific Jazz recording date. Art Pepper and Bud Shank also moonlighted for Decca in 1957, under the direction of composer Howard Lucraft. William Claxton photo

Here's a recording I came across in the stacks a few months back that I realized I'd never listened to (got quite a few like that!). I'd judged it by its cover when I acquired it a few decades back, thinking it was just another attempt by a major label to sell "jazz" to a mainstream audience with syrupy arrangements and restrained soloists. Wrong.

Lucraft with Lady Day during her
appearance on his "Jazz Inter-

national" TV show.

I'd never heard of Howard Lucraft, the album's arranger, composer and anonymous guitarist, before finding this LP. Despite my initial misgivings, he turns out to be a musician of some stature, and a very fine arranger/composer in the mainstream modern jazz vernacular. He also was an accomplished journalist, writing for jazz pubs like Down Beat and Metronome, a correspondent for the London Daily Herald and host of his own jazz radio and TV shows. He was also a very fine photographer, mostly of other jazz players.

A renaissance man, in other words.

Born in London during the first world war, Lucraft arrived in Los Angeles in 1950 and decided to stay. He worked in the studios, wrote, composed, arranged, broadcasted and even played out a bit. In '54 he hooked up with Stan Kenton and formed "Jazz International," an organization that promoted America's classical music worldwide. He even found time to make a few records.

This album didn't set the world on fire, but it's a fine, swinging affair with very tasty performances from the cream of the West Coast crop in 1957. Present are Bud Shank, Art Pepper, Conte Condoli, Bob Cooper, Buddy Collette, Pete Jolly, Red Mitchell, Stan Levey, Mel Lewis and others. It's almost as though Lucraft and Decca hijacked a Pacific Jazz session for this date. While the results are somewhat less adventurous than a typical PJ recording, the performances are excellent, and Pete Jolly's accordion is an added treat. The guitarist isn't really John Doe, by the way – it's Lucraft himself. Chalk up another skill for the multi-talented Brit.

This gem required no cleaning of sound, so what you hear is pure vinyl – taken directly from the original, of course.

Showcase for Modern Jazz
Howard Lucraft & Outstanding West Coast Jazz Men
Decca DL 8679

Collective personnel: Conte Condoli, Stu Williamson, tp; Bud Shank, Buddy Collette, Art Pepper, Charlie Mariano, Bob Cooper, reeds; Frank Rosolino, tbn; Pete Jolly, Claude Williamson, p; Howard Lucraft, g; Red Mitchell, Monty Budwig, Leroy Vinnegar, b; Mel Lewis, Stan Levey, Shelly Manne, d. (see cover for specific personnel)
Los Angeles, CA; 1957

1. Blue Moon
2. I'll Never Say Never Again
3. California Zephyr (Lucraft)
4. I may Be Wrong
5. Larrissa (Lucraft)
6. Midnight Sun
7. Smog a la Mode (Lucraft)
8. Jazz for Gene (Lucraft)
9. Two Part Contention

Find it here: https://www.mediafire.com/?4cak9a0mfc0bncn

The Count at the World's Fair

God and Splank: Bill Basie and Art Tatum share a moment together at the keyboard. One no doubt serving up a cascade of notes while the other contemplates the ivories. From the collection of Catherine Basie

Sometimes you come across the most amazing things in the most out-of-the-way places. A cliche, yes, but true enough. Here's yet another affirmation of it's shopworn validity.

Melby's Market, the general store at the crossroads in
North Waterford. Bison burgers are the house specialty.

A few weeks ago I was up in Maine on my semi-annual sojourn to visit my folks. We're inveterate yard-salers, and we spent a Saturday morning trolling about, looking for treasure. We eventually wound up in Waterford, searching for a flea market that supposedly was being held on the North Waterford World's Fair fairgrounds. Waterford is a lovely little New England town, perfect for a Saturday Evening Post cover, but North Waterford is little more than a sandy crossroads a short ride from its larger namesake. 

At North Waterford's crossroads, we decided to go left. There were no signs, and no indication of anything like a fairgrounds. But then, half-a-mile up the road, there was a hand-painted, weather-beaten board proclaiming "Fair Parking" with an arrow pointing left up a dirt road that skirted around what appeared to be a dilapidated, abandoned chicken coop. Never shy about dirt roads, my parents veered up the hill, bouncing the car over ruts and stones and on into the woods. 

The World's Fair's logo

The road ran upwards through the trees and overgrown blueberry bushes, around several more tumbling-down structures, before emerging a quarter-mile later onto a weedy field surrounded by more shanty-like sheds. "Welcome to the North Waterford World's Fair" a faded banner proclaimed. Apparently we had arrived at the fairgrounds.

True to the claim in the classified ad in the paper, there was a flea market going on. A dozen sellers had set up tables in a few of the sheds, their wares piled on overturned cardboard boxes or arrayed on folding tables. It was a pretty meager showing, but we'd come that far, so we climbed out of the car. Romance novels, kiddie clothes, VCRs, kitchen gadgets, crocheted novelties, rusty tools – the usual stuff, being picked over by a few buyers. But then something caught my eye. 

An artifact from the jazz world of December 1936 –
Down Beat was still a monthly then.

On one end of a table there was a pile of sports and hunting magazines. Sticking out from near the bottom of the heap was what looked like – could it be? – an ancient Down Beat. And so it was! A DB from way back in 1936, two years after the venerable jazz rag had published its first issue. I feverishly leafed through the rest of the magazines, but there were no others. I was immediately struck: How had a 77-year-old newspaper made it all the way to ... North Waterford? 

One of life's great (or not so great) mysteries.

The paper was in great shape with no tears and no pages missing. I paid a buck for it and spent the better part of an hour going through it back at my folk's place. Here were stories that mentioned Earl Hine's orchestra at the Grand Terrace in Chicago, a blurb about young trumpet upstart Roy Eldridge tearing it up over nightly network broadcasts, and a feature about Mildred Bailey and her new hubby, Red Norvo. Plus loads of great period advertisements, record reviews and nightclub listings. One thing that struck me: So many of the musicians mentioned I'd never heard of before. Shown on the mag's cover were Margie Lindt, Bob "Bazooka" Burns, Frankie Masters, Romo Vincent, Charlie Trotta, John O'Donell and many others. Who? I don't know, and history doesn't either.

But there was one fellow – a pianist – whom history hasn't forgotten. And the squib in Down Beat that mentions him is perhaps one of his first national press clippings. It's 32-year-old Bill Basie, nicknamed "Count," and it prominently features what the magazine claims is the first photo to be published of the band leader. Basie and the boys had been getting their road show together, playing at the Grand Terrace for an extended stay before heading to New York to record for Jack Kapp and the Decca label. John Hammond, who had discovered them when he chanced to hear a radio hookup from a Kansas City nightery, had tried to get them signed to Columbia. But Kapp had beaten him to the punch. So Hammond famously arranged to secretly record Basie in a small group (with Lester Young) while the band was in Chicago. Those sides were issued as by "Jones-Smith Incorporated," and they remain classics. 

Though it took place just a few months earlier, there's no mention of that recording session in the article. But the orchestra gets a glowing review and Basie and his rhythm are rightly credited with being the finest in the nation. So I thought it only appropriate that Gems serve up a few examples of the Count at the piano to celebrate this bit of jazz history that serendipitously came my way in far-flung North Waterford, Maine.

This is a French release, consisting of rare airchecks and TV broadcasts – one of vast series of intriguing records that were issued by Musidisc in the 1970s. They're pretty common, but this one seems harder to find than others. The music here is extraordinary, with Basie providing what amounts to a primer on blues piano. There are also great solos by bassist Eddie Jones and even a "solo" from guitarist Freddie Green (on "Cute"). Wardell Gray is present, too, on one selection. "Nails" is a remarkable display of wry humor and subtle ensemble playing, not to be missed. The sound varies – tape hum being the worst of the defects – but the music, as always, is "keel-ling." And next time you're in the Lakes Region in Maine, check out the North Waterford World's Fair. You never know what you'll find ...

These files were ripped from the original vinyl with, in this case, no cleaning of the sound whatsoever.

























The Soloist
Count Basie
Musidisc 30 JA 5204

Count Basie, p; various groups including Walter Page, Freddie Green, Jo Jones; Wardell Gray, Clark Terry, Marshall Royal; Eddie Jones, Sonny Payne; and others (see download for full personnel, dates).
Airchecks, TV broadcasts; New York, Paris, Zurich, San Francisco; Various dates, 1941-1967

1. There'll Be Some Changes Made
2. Rockin' Chair
3. Basie Boogie
4. Basie Boogie
5. Basie Boogie
6. Basie Blues
7. All of Me
8. Cute
9. Blues No. 2
10. Squeeze Me 
11. Blues No. 1
12. Blues No. 3
13. As Long As I Live
14. Blues No. 4
15. Nails

Find it here: https://www.mediafire.com/?dxjy4lzlk4p3cc8

Butch Morris Time

Talk about deep: Twenty-year-old Doug Morris, a U.S. Army medic serving in Germany in 1967, studies up on applied harmony. Fifteen years later, Butch Morris would begin to reshape the sound of the jazz avant garde. Photo courtesy of Don Heffington

This post has been a long time coming, but I've finally found the time to tackle it. If you've followed Gems for a while, you'll recall we did a piece a while back on A.R. Penck that featured Butch Morris. Well, not long after that posting came the distressing news that Butch had passed away.

He'd been ill for a while, something I was unaware of (news travels slow here in the foothills of the Catskills). So it came as a shock to learn that he was gone. It seems like only yesterday he was working on his music box project and leading conductions with many musicians I know, some quite well. 

Butch had perhaps the purest sound on his instrument since ... well, since Bobby Hackett. An odd pairing, but not many contemporary horn players are cornetists, and Butch was a superb player, very much like Hackett had been decades earlier. Butch was also a master of effects on his instrument. Bubber Miley would have been impressed by his growls and feints and squawks. Mr. Morris was no stranger to the Ellington jungle.

With this entry, Gems offers its visitors two Butch Morris treasures. One is an excerpt from a conduction that Butch did in 1985 during an epic art performance piece based on the works of the Spanish painter Goya. The other is a wonderful collection of photographs from the days when Butch was known by his middle name, Douglas – days long before he was acknowledged on the downtown scene and around the world as a major innovator in the field of creative music. 

So consider this Gems' tribute to one of the great creators of late 20th and early 21st century jazz. Lawrence Douglas "Butch" Morris will be much missed. We shall not see another like him ...

When Butch was Doug

These photos come to us from Don Heffington, a gentleman whom I met over the Interwebs through a mutual friend. As a teenager, Don was in one of Butch's early bands in Los Angeles. He has graciously given permission for Gems to post these photos, all of which I believe have never been seen publicly before. Don also gave the eulogy at Butch's funeral and we've included that here as well. It tells the story of his long friendship with Butch and is a lovely tribute. Many thanks, Don!

The Doug Morris/Sam Johnson Band, above and below, in 1965. Sam Johnson on
bass, Clarence Peace on alto, pianist Andre, Doug Morris on trumpet and Don
Heffington, right, on drums. Los Angeles, 1965.

Doug Morris in the army in 1967 – Fort Ord, above, and in Germany, below.

The Doug Morris Quintet at the Palladium in 1966. Doug Morris, left, and Don
Heffington, right. Photos courtesy of Don Heffington

Going, Going, Goya

"Goya Time 1985 New York" was a grand-scale performance in the style of the "happenings" that were common art community activities in the early '60s. It was conceived and organized by one Dr. Sandro Dernini, a gent described as "an accomplished biologist from the island of Sardinia." "Goya Time" featured a script by Dernini, choreography by Gretta Safarty and music by Butch Morris. The whole affair took place in a Lower East Side building known as "Cuando," a cavernous place that had been a school at one time. By 1985 it had become a space for music concerts and art exhibits. It was gray and dreary on the inside, run down and in need of repair – in short, just the sort of venue perfect for presenting Goya's era of faded decadence and lethal intrigue.

I wasn't at the actual performance – it went on for many hours and there's just so much high art I can tolerate before I need to find an exit. But I was at part of the dress rehearsal. It was a much shorter affair, but just as chaotic, noisy and colorful as the main event. Declaiming actors wandered in and out of the gymnasium where Butch's musicians were creating a soundscape of melody, poly-rhythms and spiky cacophony. Dancers flitted by, appearing in the doorways one moment, on balconies the next. Interpretations of Goya's paintings hung on the walls and – if I remember correctly – an artist was on stage painting on a huge canvas and on a naked woman's body.

It was one whacky scene, and in the midst of it all was Butch and his musicians. The download included here is only a very small portion of the entire performance. But it captures the feel of the event and gives you an idea of how Butch could alter the music through his conduction technique to accommodate whatever was happening around him. One of the vocalists, by the way, is the extraordinary Shelly Hirsch. If you're unfamiliar with her work, Google her. She's amazing.

Butch Morris conducts "Los Capricios" during "Goya Time 1985 New York," a massive
performance piece that took place on June 13, 1985, on Manhattan's Lower East Side.
Photo from plexusinternational.org 

Goya Time 1985 New York
Butch Morris Ensemble
Cuando, Lower East Side, New York, NY; June 13, 1985
Butch Morris, comp, cond; JA Deane, el tbn, synth; Jason Hwang, vi; Marion Brandis, fl, alto fl, small inst; Myra Melford(?), p; Shelly Hirsch, unknown, v; others unknown.

1. Los Capricios, Part 1

Find it here: https://www.mediafire.com/?d5vuv0vuzd6d0br

The Duke's Clarinet

A native of New Orleans, Barney Bigard played with a mastery that defined the Big Easy's tidy clarinet sound – a blend of refined classical technique and street parade bravado. Photo by William Gottlieb

Here's another Gem, copped recently from the Interwebs. It's a here-to-fore unknown recording (to me, anyway) by clarinet master, Barney Bigard. We all know Bigard from his days with Duke Ellington, of course, and remember his many solos with the stellar 1940-42 orchestra. 

Bigard was with Ellington from 1927 to 1942. Before that he'd been in King Oliver's band, and afterwards he was featured with Poppa Louis' All Stars. He occasionally recorded under his own name, most notably with a number of Ellington small groups for Variety, Vocalion, Bluebird and Okeh.

A leading exponent of the New
Orleans Creole clarinet tradition,
Bigard was perfect fit for the Duke's
urbane offerings.

But this album comes after a twelve-year hiatus from recording as a leader. It's a marvelous mix of familiar tunes and intriguing originals, rendered by "the type of band I like to play in at this time," as Barney says in his spoken introduction to the LP. Liberty Records, out of Hollywood, would eventually own the mighty Blue Note label, but in 1957 they were just getting into the jazz recording biz. This record was part of their "Jazz Hall of Fame Series."

The gents accompanying Bigard on his first long-playing outing are unknown to me. Jackie Coon (not "Coons" as the record has it) seems to be from New Orleans, a classic jazz player, and Charlie Lodice has worked with many mainstream musicians, most notably clarinetist Pete Fountain. The others are no doubt of similar standing and, as is aurally evident, they are all quite good.

The cover of this album is an interesting example of a nice idea that didn't quite work. Bigard is seen in silhouette against a navy blue background rendered in velvety flocking, surrounded by an ornate brocaded border. Over time, the silhouette and lettering have faded, making the the cover nearly illegible, and – when I got it at least – the flocking had picked up all manner of lint, dust, cat hairs, etc. Funky!

But the music is wonderful, a fine late example of the work of one of jazz's traditional masters. The sound required a little work, and there are minor surface noises here and there, but overall I'd say this material is of broadcast quality. See what you think ...

Jazz Hall of Fame Series
Barney Bigard
Bigard, cl; Jackie Coon, tp, mellophone; Burt Johnson, tbn; Bruce MacDonald, p; Bob Stone or Al Morgan, b; Charlie Lodice, d. 
Los Angeles, CA; 1957; Liberty LRP 3072

1. Introduction
2. C-Jam Blues
3. Mardi Gras Time (Bigard)
4. Ab Mur 
5. Mahogany Hall Stomp
6. Louisiana and Me (Bigard)
7. Step Steps Up (Bigard)
8. Step Steps Down (Bigard)
9. Rose Room
10. Mood Indigo

Find it here: https://www.mediafire.com/?2g3ubbcshiaqlxx

The Maestro's Masterpiece

Edward Kennedy in Europe with a few of his fans not long after the conclusion of World War II, and a few years after his first groundbreaking Carnegie Hall concert in 1943. Photo from the Illustrated Encyclopedia of Jazz

Here's a belated birthday tribute to the immortal Duke Ellington (his 114th was April 29th). It's an interesting artifact from the Duke's first great Carnegie Hall concert from January 23, 1943. It took almost a year to get Ellington and the band into the studio to record selections from the concert's major work, "Black, Brown and Beige," and when RCA finally issued them they did so using their 12-inch format – a size usually reserved for classical music. The album, appropriately entitled "Black, Brown and Beige," was first released with the conventional "photo album" packaging – hard-board covers, cloth spine, multiple pockets inside. But then, for some reason, RCA put out a second version with the records contained in a simple folding paper sleeve. The new format anticipated the jacket designs for double LPs by twenty-five years, and must have been a hopeful, cost-saving experiment. Unlike vinyl LPs, though, 78-rpm discs are brittle and subject to breakage, and I can only assume that many of the Ellington records shipped out in these avant garde covers must have come back broken. The jacket offers scant protection for the shellac platters.

That said, I was lucky enough to come across an unbroken edition of "Black, Brown and Beige" in the paper sleeve a few years ago. It's been carefully kept on the shelf ever since, and with the arrival of the Duke's natal day I thought I'd get it out and share it with Gems' visitors. I doubt these records have been played in nearly 70 years, so it's definitely time.

This music you've heard many times, I'm sure, and it's readily available in numerous formats, so there's nothing really rare in this offering. Except the packaging. As you can see, there are some great liner notes and photos, and RCA sweetened the deal by including a program from the original concert. I've scanned them all and have included them here. The music itself is extraordinary, mostly through-composed with only a few solos, and should rank right up there in the popular consciousness with Gershwin's "Rhapsody in Blue." Maybe someday, but until then, enjoy this masterwork in celebration of EKE's birthday.

These are the original 78s, so there's surface noise and the accompanying pops and clicks. But this is how fans heard music back in 1944, and we strive for authenticity here at Gems.

Black, Brown and Beige
Duke Ellington Orchestra
Duke Ellington, p; Rex Stewart, cnt; Shorty Baker, Wallace Jones, tp; Ray Nance, tp, vln; Lawrence Brown, Joe Nanton, tbn; Juan Tizol, vtbn; Otto Hardwick, as, cl; Johnny Hodges, as; Chauncy Haughton, cl, ts; Ben Webster, ts; Harry Carney, bar, cl, as; Fred Guy, g; Junior Raglin, b; Sonny Greer, d; Joya Sherill, v.
December 11, 12, 1944; New York, NY; RCA 

1. Work Song
2. Come Sunday
3. The Blues
4. Three Dances

Find it here: http://www.mediafire.com/download/ir18v442rx1ly68/Black_Brown_Beige.rar

The Lady Carmen

Few fans today know that Carmen McRae was a gifted pianist as well as singer. Here she
emotes from the keyboard during a late '50s gig. Photo from the NEA

I never liked Carmen McRae. Her hoarse, whisky-soaked voice never struck me as much more than one-dimensional. She seemed to sprechstimme her way through many of the tunes she performed. I much preferred Sarah Vaughan or Betty Carter. I only collected McRae records when they came my way gratis. Needless to say, my selection of Carmen material was pretty slim.

But then, my point of reference had always been the Atlantic sides that Carmen did in the '60s and '70s and the several she did for Mainstream afterward. They indeed showcased the later, roughened sound of McRae's voice and were an acquired taste in the way Etta Jones' in-tune/out-of-tune vocalizing is something one has to learn to hear. I never really learned to hear Carmen.

But then I found this record last week at a church thrift store in a town a few miles from where I live in the Catskills. I'm a changed man! This is Carmen McRae from 1959, and she is extraordinary. None of the coarse quality of her later recordings, no spoken lyrics. Carmen's voice here is fluid and lovely, filled with startling embellishments and superbly stated melodies.

Dave Kapp ran his
record label from
1954 to 1967.

She recorded several LPs in the late '50s for Kapp, a label that was started by Dave Kapp, brother of Decca founder Jack Kapp. Kapp lacked the financial depth that Decca had, so its productions tended to have a skimpy, cheap look. But much of the music on the label (jazz-wise) is excellent, and this recording by Carmen McRae is proof. Though Kapp burdens her with conventional string arrangements, she gets sympathetic support from a trio on some of the selections (probably Don Abney on piano) and she navigates the charts with real aplomb. You can clearly hear what a great jazz soloist she was. Check out "I Only Have Eyes for You," one of the trio sides on the album. Carmen demonstrates what a supple and inventive jazz improviser she was.

As always, these tunes were ripped from the original vinyl with only a slight cleaning of the sound. Be forewarned here that there is occasional slight crackle on some of the selections.

When You're Away
Carmen McRae
McRae, v; Luther Henderson Jr. Orchestra; *Frank Hunter Orchestra probably with Don Abney, p; Joe Benjamin, b; Charles Smith, d.
New York, NY; 1959; Kapp KL1135

1. When You're Away
2. The More I See You
3. I Only Have Eyes for You*
4. Willingly*
5. If I Could Be with You*
6. I'll Be Seeing You
7. I Concentrate on You
8. Ain't Misbehavin'*
9. Every Time We Say Goodbye
10. When Your Lover Has Gone
11. I'm Glad There Is You*
12. Two Faces in the Dark*

Find it here: https://www.mediafire.com/?gn2faqy2x7n2y8d

FM Farewell

Multi-reedist Herb Steward blowing tenor for a studio shot probably taken in the mid-'40s, around the time he was playing for Artie Shaw. His big break came in 1947 with Woody Herman. Photo from "Black Beauty, White Heat"

Never let it be said that we here at Gems are not an eclectic bunch. Everything from the AACM to ... well, to this offering, can be found here. And since I'm in a sentimental mood and thinking about jazz radio, I thought I'd post this LP of "beautiful music" by Herb Steward.

Platter mavens searching the boxes at one of WJFF's
music sales. At 50 cents apiece, a collector could buy a
cartonful and still have enough left to buy donuts and
coffee at the snack table. WJFF photo

Why the mood? Well, I've just ended my 23-year stint as a jazz radio host at WJFF 90.5 FM in upstate New York's Catskills. The reasons aren't really important, but it's been a wonderful run and an experience that has allowed me to meet many great musicians and hundreds of jazz enthusiasts over the years. 

So, I thought I'd pay tribute to my former radio station by offering a rare item purchased at one of WJFF's legendary music sales. It's music that was meant to be pretty, just as the album's title proclaims, and while it was probably heard in some of the better highrise elevators and dentist offices of the 1960s, it mirrors my sentiments about my departure. Bittersweet, in a word.

A few of the sides picked up by Gems at the
most most recent WJFF music sale. Someone
dumped a lot of vintage Kenton ...

So here's Herbie Steward, one of the original "four brothers," the sax quartet that recorded a number of lush hits with Woody Herman in the mid-'40s, including the Jimmy Guiffre tune from whence comes their name. Along with Steward in the original section were Stan Getz, Zoot Sims and Serge Chaloff. Those gents went on to have distinguished jazz careers. But Herb eventually fell out of sight, getting lost in the LA studios. He seems not to have appreciated developments in the music much beyond the innovations of Lester Young, and eventually lost interest in the form. While Pres ain't a bad place to stop, it's unfortunate that Steward didn't keep at it back in the day. He had a great tone and, as is evident here, was also a master of the clarinet and baritone. Not unlike his Herd-mate Guiffre.

Herb Steward recorded a number of nice singles on his own for Roost in the 78 era. Some of those are available on various tenor sax compendiums, but this recording is his sole LP effort in the modern era. It's pretty tepid stuff jazz-wise, but the arrangements (by one Dick Hazard and a mysterious string section with rhythm) are competent and pleasant enough, and you can hum along with the melodies. And, if you're in a reflective mood, it's ... so pretty.

This gem required only a minor cleaning up of the sound. The file comes, as always, from the original vinyl. Thanks, WJFF!

 

 









So Pretty
Herb Steward
Herb Steward, ts, cl, bar; unknown string orchestra and rhythm section; Dick Hazard, arr.
Los Angeles, CA; March, June 5, 1962
Ava/Choreo Records A-9

1. Indian Summer
2. Do You Know What It Means to Miss New Orleans?
3. Remember
4. With All My Love
5. Memphis in June
6. I'm Coming Virginia
7. When Day Is Done
8. Lovely Melody
9. Among My Sounvenirs
10. So Pretty (Hazard)

Find it here: https://www.mediafire.com/?6cirjunk9gcm204

Yours truly at the mic in WJFF's
Master Control a few years back,
producing my long-running jazz
program, "Crosscurrents."
Photo by Myra Winner