by Tony Scott ©

If you're a singer, where do you go after Billie Holiday?
She trusted me implicitly which was good for my soul but bad in the sense that people were jealous of me. Mattera fact, Kenny Clarke, when he came outa the army, first thing he heard was 'Guess who Lady Day's new old man is? "Ha-ha - I wasn't her old man, but she had to explain to John Levy and Louis McKay who I was because I was so close.

Billie was like a queen.
She was like the queen. I used to hear records of her in 1936 and well, wow!
At first I used to play in clubs with her, not in her band but one of the other bands. She got a chance to hear me play, and we slowly became friends. By 1944, I was very close to her and one of her good friends.
I saw Lady Day for the first time in person in 1939 at Kelly's Stables on 52nd Street between Sixth and Seventh Avenue. Billie was accompanied by Nat Jaffe who was an excellent pianist. My relationship with Billie began to mature through my frequent jamming with Sid Catlett, Benny Carter and other groups at the Down Beat Club where she was often the star of the show from 1940 on. I can't really pinpoint my first personal meeting with Billie nor can I remember how our relationship became deeper and deeper. It just happened. I know that by 1945 we were tight enough friends that she depended on me to get her a new pianist, Bubby Tucker, who lived in my same town. At his time, I was Billie's constant companion to the point where Kenny Clark told me that when he came out of the army in 1945, the first tidbit of news in the jazz world was: Billie's new I 'old man' is Tony Scott.
Professionally speaking, though, I am listed in the appendix of her book as being the leader, arranger and clarinetist for her Lady Sings the Blues record on Verve. Also I performed that same job at her last big concert in 1958 and played the piano on Lady Sings the Blues at Carnegie Hall. I played piano for her a coupla' weeks in Philadelphia because her piano player was a junkie and she had an indictment on her there.

Lady rarely discussed other singers, but on two occasions about 10 years apart, I can remember her doing so. I was in her dressing room one of the times. This was in 1947, and she had just come back from hearing Sarah Vaughn at the Three Deuces. "That bitch can really sing," she told me, waiting to see where my loyalties were. She knew I had met Sarah at a jam session in Harlem at the Renaissance Ballroom and that I had used Sarah on my first record date for Sam Goody's Gotham label.
remember telling Lady: 'She's a bitch, Lady,' meaning fabulous. 'But when you sing My Man is Gone, I know he ain't never coming back. But if Sarah sings the same song, I just figure he went out for a loaf of bread and is coming right back home.'

Oh those were the days. Lady was a special person. I remember in 1947. I wrote a song called Misery, and Lady sang it whenever we were near a piano relaxing. She sang it backstage at Carnegie Hall. She sang it at Minton's Playhouse, the cradle of bebop, whenever she came in. That was, let me see, 1952 and 1956, a time when I worked there four months a year. It was a big thrill for me to have Lady singing my song. I was in her dressing room once, at the Down Beat Club about an hour before she was to put on a show. That was in 1949. She was high and so was her drummer, Eddy Nicholson.
I remember she turned to him and said, 'Tony's the only white man I know that don't want something from me,' and Eddie mumbled, 'Yah, baby, that's right.'

Billie had the greatest ear, but she never sang the melody as it was, right. Except my song, 'Misery'. She had that for seven years, she'd always sing it backstage at Carnagie Hall or at Minton's. "She told me once she was scared of two songs, 'Some other Spring' and 'Misery'. " Finally, Carmen McRae was working with my group and making a record for Bethlehem, and I thought, Lady doesn't need the song, she'd had it seven years, Carmen needs it. Give it to Carmen. Carmen recorded it, and I got a postcard from Billie: 'Dear Tony. Work on 'Misery' because it'll be in after this gig. Merry Xmas and all that tommy-rot'. "I think she'd been to England, huh, tommy-rot. Three months later I go down to Birdland and Lady's sitting up front. We had this secret thing. OOO-POO-PAH-DOO, ME & YOU, and she turned round and said. 'You gave that bitch my song! Well, I'm gonna record it with 100 strings! "Genius, Lady reached the bottom and then she said, 'Can you hear me? She was transmitting, she knew it.