Sir Hildred Humphries. It's all about the music.

Ahh Hump. My man. Hildred was my first mentor. Unlike most of the young guys today, at 44 I have spent extensive time learning from authentic masters of the Art. In 1986 legendary music educator Bert Hughes spent the summer helping me to get my chops back after 3 years of not playing so that I could be part of a big band tour to Russia. He also introduced me to Hildred Humphries. Hildred was so much more than a mentor. For a period of about 2 years, he was just about my best friend. This inexplicable relationship crossed all generational and cultural boundaries. Just as Roy Campbell reminded us from beyond this world: It's all about the music. This was our shared prime directive.

Who was Hildred Humphries? Well, Hildred spent six months on the road with none other than Billie Holiday.

"Everyone told me not to work with her because she was nothing but trouble, but they could not be more wrong. It was a genuine pleasure playing with her and one of the great experiences of my life."

Hildred was also someone who went deep with the Count. Count Basie.

"I was on the road with Basie for a few years and we had a good thing going. I got tired of the road however and wanted to stop. Basie bought me a gold-plated tenor to get me to stay! I stayed awhile for the tenor, but eventually I told Basie I had to go."

In his up and coming days, Hildred's primary partner was trumpet king Roy Eldridge.

"When we were 15 Roy and I would practice Louis Armstrong and Coleman Hawkins solos in the basement of my mother's house."

Hildred was not alone. His brother Frank "Fat Man" Humphries was an extremely potent swing trumpeter who could out Maynard Maynard before Maynard existed. I know because I tracked down a recording. I'll never forget when I played it for Hildred and his nephew Frankie, Frank's son.

"That's him! That's Frank!" We all looked at each other with tears in our eyes listening to Frank blow the roof off a Louis Armstrong vehicle called "After You've Gone."

"Young Miles Davis used to come see Frank. He would sit in the front row studying his every move!"

When I met Doc Cheatham playing at Sweet Basil and mentioned Hildred, Doc went off. "Tell Hildred to call me right away!"

My mentorship with Hildred began when I was living in Nyack New York in 1990, and I went to his house down by the riverside. It was a big old amazing house which he shared with his sister, who usually answered the door. I would bring my trumpet, and Hildred would get out his tenor saxophone so we could play. Eventually, I began bringing my Aebersold tapes and a cassette recorder. I still have about 5 hours of tape of us playing blues and standards. We always tried to come up with something different. We would always listen back and fall out laughing at some of the wild chances we took. I still remember his core piece of advice:

"Start your solo off as exciting as possible. You'll have the audience hooked. Make sure you can keep it up though!"

Eventually, Hildred began bringing me around to gigs and having me sit in. Then I joined a band that he had. I can remember at least four places we used to play. The Hudson House. A place on Main St. A place down by the river, and a church. We played at least two festival gigs; one had Bill Crow on bass. Hildred had a great little band. The only time he really got angry with me was when he thought I called double time on a blues. It was the drummer man!

This brings me to a quintessential moment in my relationship with Hump, as we called him. (Incidentally, I nicknamed his big white Cadillac the Hump Mobile) We were playing a jam session at the Hudson House, and somebody called Summertime. Erik Lawrence was there and took a phenomenal alto solo. When it was my turn, I plunged into what could only be called free Jazz. I was slamming down into the bottom F# of the horn, playing wild. On a chord change, I went into a Sonny boy Williamson valve squeeze that came from outer space. I was playing Summertime on Mars. What would Hildred think? He shouted out for all present to hear.

"YEAH MAN. BLOW BABY. PLAY ON."

This was the defining moment of my young musical life. The message was so clear, so loud, so perfect.

GO FOR YOURSELF AT ALL COSTS.

Getting validation from somebody from the swing era was the supreme seal of approval. I have never looked back. Hildred gave me an incredible gift that day for which I would forever be grateful.

One day when I stopped by, I found Hildred with 3 music stands lined up in a row. Laid out was John Coltrane's entire solo on Countdown. Hildred said "Watch this" and then played down the whole solo note for note. I was flabbergasted.

"You know there are people today still not feeling Coltrane. I'm here to tell you that not only is he one of us, but he may the greatest of us all."

Again Hildred gave me an incredible gift, opening the door to the world of Trane. I had been listening to music from all over Trane's history and was perplexed, but so drawn to the spiritual intensity that was always present.

Hildred and I continued to hang out. I used to drive him around in my insane red pickup truck. I took him to the Wiz to buy a boombox. I took him to the barber and the shoe repair guy. I took him to this Blues guy's house so we could jam in his basement. I took him to my house to listen to Louis Armstrong and watch my copy of the Sound of Jazz video. I'll never forget his reaction when Coleman Hawkins appeared.

"COLEMAN HAWKINS! NOBODY CAN CHALLENGE HIM!"

Eventually, I got a scholarship to the Berklee College of music. I wrote Hump letters that said stuff like...

"This is some bullshit man. You can play better than everyone here. Everything you've taught me surpasses this."

Time passed, as time does. On a break from school, I stopped by Hildred's place on a Sunday around 10 AM.

"It's a good thing you're here man. I need somebody to make breakfast for."

I then had the supreme honor of watching Hump cook up a vicious soul food breakfast. He refused my help and made me sit down and tell him about school. It reminded me of similar occasions at his sister's house. Hildred's cooking reminded me of how his wife would donate her delectable sweet potato pies to a church in Nyack. It was the church where we would play our last gig together. I recall playing "When the Saints Go Marching In." Hildred was also a great singer. I listened as he sang the Pops classic "What a Wonderful World." There was not a dry eye in the house. Once again, Hildred had silenced the place and filled it with Love.

It was my high school music teacher Bert Hughes who called me a few months later to inform me that Hildred had passed on. I was devastated. I played at 2 of the memorials for Hildred. I was playing My Funny Valentine a lot back then.

I often think about Hildred. His story is where mine begins. I would go on to learn on the bandstand with Sabir Mateen, in the Chamber with Ornette, and then finally from iconoclast Giuseppi Logan who once exclaimed:

"You know you can play right Matt? You can play man; you can play!"

Every note I do play these days comes back to the great gift I received from getting to spend time with a great friend and teacher, the great Sir Hildred Humphries. No you, no me.

I love you man. Peace to you always. I will forever cherish your gift of music.

May God bless Sir Hildred Humphries.

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