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Homage to Billie Holiday

Homage to Billie Holiday by ©Tony Scott
July 6, 1996
record Liner Notes for: Homage to Billie Holiday Body and Soul (Philology )

There have been so many stories about Billie written by so many writers that I decided to write about our relationship. How it started, developed and with her death ended. But then began a more spiritual revelation of who she was, really, her sad and tortured life as a black female who was raped at 10 years old; then grew up and entered the night life of a jazz singer. Into the drug world from a nobody. Into the most famous jazz singer ever.

She was a living legend then in 1959 a dead legend at 44… She died in July and I was with her three weeks before her death at a concert, June 25, at the Phoenix Theater in Greenwich Village East.
I was supposed to play clarinet with her but I broke a finger at that time. She had Mal Waldron piano, Jo Jones drums, Joe Benjamin bass. As usual I went back stage to see her. There was a vip group there: Elaine Lorillard, founder of Newport Jazz Festival; Leonard Feather, jazz critic; Alan Morrison editor of Afro-American Magazine weekly, Ebony; and Bob Bach , producer of the show which was a benefit show to collect money for a worthy cause, which one I never knew.
The theater was completely sold out. There were no other artists involved and a famous TV star, Steve Allen, was the announcer (He played the part of Benny Goodman in the movie made of Benny's life and career).

When this group saw me enter they all started to talk at once. They had seen Billie's physical condition and were horrified. I had seen and photographed Billie April 7th, her 44th birthday, at her house, she looked and acted great. Annie Ross and Elaine Lorillard were also there. Billie came to my house about May 25th and I took 30 black and white photos of her. She was sitting in a big lounge chair and put on different faces and poses as I took a photo every 15 seconds. Again she looked great and acted great. I am sure she was off of drugs, she drank one glass of wine and had dinner with us. We both had apartments on the west side of Manhattan. I always let her call me or come to a club I was playing so that I would not intrude on her private life.

This night of June 25th at the Phoenix Theater, when this group of important people all talking at once were in such in such shock at Billie's physical condition, they talked like Billie was so drunk or so drugged that she could not stand on her feet much less sing a 45 minutes show. Of course I knew this was not possible, as I had been with Billie in every situation and knew that she could always do a show or even two shows.
These people were telling me to "STOP" Billie from singing? as there would be a big scandal. I '"stop". Here were four big town, big time people hysterically talking like Billie Holiday was dying on her feet. They were all crazy, I thought.

I asked where Billie's room was. They pointed and I walked alone. No one went with me. I knocked and gave our usual greeting after I heard a Billie's voice ask hoarsely,
"Who is it ?"
"OOPOOPADOO ME AND YOU." I heard a faint
"Come on in."
I opened the door and there was Billie facing the mirror, a pile of used nose tissues in front of her.
I closed the door and walked behind her and put my hands on her shoulders and asked :
"How you doing baby ?" She weakly replied,
" I'm OK."
I was looking at her in the mirror. A grey, ghost, gaunt, thin emaciated, they were right, Billie was dying. So weak she could hardly talk. I said, " No you ain't, what happened?" She replied " I ain' t ate nothing in three weeks." "Why ?" "I DON'T WANT TO LIVE " she started to cry. " I' M ALL ALONE, I AIN' T GOT NOBODY!" I weakly said, 'You got me."
I knew she was talking about Lewis Mc Kay, her husband, who I last saw at her last big concert at Carnegie Hall 1956 . He stayed in Los Angeles, California.
I never asked to Billie about her private life, but in the condition she was in she could not be living alone, so I asked her where Lewis was. She said she has not seen him since October, that was 8 months before.
I had been with her in April and May in another apartment and she was always living alone.
I asked,
" Who's taking care of you?" She said,
"Frankie Freedom."
" Who's that?"
"I dunno he 's a singer colored and gay."
" Why are you singing' tonight ?"
"I need the money."
"How much they paying you?"
" 300 hundred dollars."

I couldn't say don't sing, I'll give you the money, because I could not work for four months with my finger tip full of shattered bones and I had no money to give her.
$300.00 dollars was 1/10 of her concert price. I was shocked by all she told me. I said,
"Fran is outside you want to see her?" She liked Fran, my first wife.
"Yeah, tell her to come in."
Then she gave me the list of songs to give to pianist Mal Waldron. There were four songs.

I went out and called Fran; I told her Billie would be dead in a week.
She was 90 lbs (45 Kilos), she was no flesh and all bones. Her face had changed and her skin color was no more a rich brown but a greyish brown. She moved slowly and talked with great effort, how could she sing?
That's what she was born to do and now she wanted to sing one last time before she died. I did not know how she would do it but I HAD TO GET HER ON STAGE AS THIS WAS HER LAST WISH AND ONLY I COULD FULFILL IT.

Fran went in and with a happy voice greeted Billie and started to help her get ready. The four organizers were still there paralyzed, waiting for me to tell them I had talked her out of going on stage, singing badly, then collapsing and maybe dying on stage.
This was all a possibility, but the most I could do was to bring her to the stage and catch her frail body as she collapsed, then put her in my car and take her to the hospital. I told them to let her sing, she'll be dead in a week.

There was a firm knocking on the door and a man's voice said "You're on in five minutes Miss Holiday" Fran and I got on each side of Billie and lifted her on her feet which were swollen we walked slowly towards. The stage which was dark, a spotlight came on and there was famous TV Steve Allen. He played the piano and loved jazz.

"Good evening ladies and gentlemen, and now
the Lady you've been waiting for: LADY DAY! "

The trio started to play and Billie slowly straighten up, walked gracefully and slowly to the microphone and started to sing. I heard all these sounds, music, lady's voice, but everything was far away. I was completely concentrated on Billie's body and ready to run out to catch her is she started to tilt and begin to fall into the floor stage lights. I finally heard her voice singing: It Ain't Nobody's Business If I Do, a Bessie Smith song that tell everybody I'M DOING IT MY WAY, STAY CLEAR, HANDS OFF, I DON'T NEED YOU, I THOUGHT TO MYSELF, she's dying and knows it. It was her decision to stop eating. Yet she must sing and express her emotions in such a way that she was really a prophet who preached to whoever would listen.
"I AM A VICTIM OF MY FEELINGS WHICH ARE SO PROFOUND AND DEEP INSIDE MY SOUL THAT I USE THE WORDS AND MELODIES OF SONGS TO EXPRESS SORROW AND PAIN THAT IS PART OF ME AND OTHERS LIKE ME, VICTIMS OF LIFE.

She sang about four songs of which I have no memory. She slowly walked backwards, lifting her gown so as not to trip and bowing to the applauding public that had no idea what she was going through to do her show, HER LAST SHOW OF HER LIFE.
I missed it as I was too concentrated on saving her from falling into the stage lights. I don't remember what she sang. She reached me and without looking backward she collapsed in my arms, with the help of Fran we carried her body to her room.

No one came to see how she was and see if we needed help or an ambulance and a doctor. No one cared about Billie or wanted any responsibility. These were people who claimed to love and adore Billie. Elaine Lorillard Leonard Feather, Alan Morrison, Bob Bach, Mal Waldron, Jo Jones, Joe Benjamin ...Where were they? I never saw any of them again in my life, not even at the funeral. I have never forgiven Leonard Feather or Joe Glaser for telling me to let Billie recuperate a week. I also did not see any of them at the funeral. So strange. The only magazine to print a photo of her last concert was "Swank" a Playboy type of book. No jazz critics or photographers were there.

We helped Billie as best we could for fifteen minutes. She was breathing heavily as if she had climbed a mountain and sweating. Profusely. I thought we should get her to her home so I got my car and we got her into the car. She had the strength of a 90 year old invalid. We took her slowly into her apartment, she was still on her two feet.
I met Frankie Freedom, who was talking care of her, these last three weeks. He had food ready but she didn't want it. She asked me for a drink of gin. I tried to get her to eat but she answered "ARE YOU MY FUCKING FRIEND OR NOT ?
I told Frankie give her a gin. He did and kept lamenting about cooking food she would not eat for the past three weeks. It was like a game for her. She told me her doctor was giving her B12 vitamins injection, he should have been giving her intravenous feeding. Who sent this doctor ?
It reminds me of the doctor who ordered by Baroness Nica Konigswater (of the Jewish financier family in Europe, Rothschild signed the death certificate of Charlie Parker as John Parker.
Joe Glaser was in charge of Billie's life in that time along with Leonard Feather, jazz critic. They should have sent a specialist in her type of depression which led to anorexia, the no eating ? death wish.
Fran undressed her but she would not get in bed. She laid down drinking her gin. I started to talk about how she had done everything she wanted in her life, drugs, drink, men, women, and now should be going to a hospital, build herself up so she could enjoy it all again. She looked at me with a sly grin and said, "I was a bitch, wasn't I?" I thought I had talked some sense into her head especially when I said "I got to go eat and will come back." She asked "Where you going to eat ?" I told her at a pizza place on 47th street. She said "Bring me some." I left Fran with her and got back in half an hour with a couple of pizzas. She ate a small piece.

I had to leave New York for a few days and I got back when she had gone into a coma . I called Leonard Feather and he told me Lewis Mc Kay, her legal husband, had arrived to take over. I respected her privacy and did not even try to enter in the hospital. No old friends were allowed near. Then Babs Gonzales brought her some cocaine that a nurse found and a police guard stopped everyone from seeing her. They arrested her. All 80 pounds (40 Kilos) attached to all kinds of tubes for survival. Her lawyer got that cancelled before she died, on JULY 17 1959.

I went to the funeral with Bobby Tucker, Lady's pianist for seven years from 1945 to 1952. He was closer then anyone to Lady. He was from my hometown, Morristown, New Jersey. We played together in my Quartet in 1937,1938, we were both 16th years old.
When Billie needed a pianist I thought of Bobby, who played in the Teddy Wilson style very relaxed and musical. I brought Bobby to Billie and he started working with her.
Bobby and I were left on the outside of Billie's funeral and we were her only true friends. The church was packed with all types of people that Billie had known in her life time but I can only remember that Benny Goodman was there.

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