Free Keeping the Beat on the Street by Mick Burns

band. Do you know some of those old songs?” I said I knew “Just a Little While,” “By and By,” “The Saints,” “Lord, Lord, Lord.” He said, “OK, that’s enough. You’d be a good help. Would you be interested in playing? Would it interfere with your job?” I explained that I was working my way through college. He said, “So you’re an ambitious young man—that’s good.”
    He told me that they rehearsed in Leroy Jones’s garage on St. Denis Street every Thursday night. “It’s down by the St. Bernard project.” he said. “Do you know how to get down there? You got transportation? We’ve got a job coming up for a campaign, and we need to rehearse for it.” I had a nice little car that I had saved up to buy, and Danny was quite impressed when I pulled up in it. He introduced me to the guys: there was Lucien and Charles Barbarin, Leroy, Derek Cagnolatti, about twelve of them in the garage .
    Leroy and I hit it off real good. The way Mr. Barker would rehearse, there was never any music. He would bring records for us to listen to. At the time, he was trying to get the band to learn “Weary Blues”—he brought sheet music for that one. A few of us were able to read it—he’d play it, and we’d listen. He’d say, “Listen at the melody.”
    A few weeks later, we went and played that campaign job. We had a good time together, and he split the money with us—he always made sure that everybody got something. That’s how I became a member of the Fairview band, and Leroy was looking for some help anyway. Charles and Lucien Barbarin were the naggers of the band; they would try to do anything to discourage you, but in a fun way. They were the hell-raisers. We all became good friends .
    Eventually I took Joe Torregano down there with me. Both of us were attending Southern University, and I knew him from there. He was playing with the Olympia Brass Band at the time. He told Tuba Fats about it, and he came down too. He had the experience, he had played with those uptown bands, and he had a lot of power .

    Hurricane Brass Band, 1980 (Gregg Stafford, Lucien Barbarin) Photo by Mike Casimir
    The band had a lot of strength, and I guess that’s when certain people went to the musician’s union about us, but I don’t want to get into that. That’s why Danny had to cut us loose, and that’s how the Hurricane band came about. Danny came in, and he had had some cards made for Leroy. He said to us, “Look, fellows, I’m kind of disappointed about what’s going on. A few musicians have complained to the union that I’m pimping the kids, saying I’m making money off y’all. All I’m trying to do is preserve this music, and give you something to keep you out of trouble. My hands are tied, and I can’t be seen with you. They’re talking about fining me, so I’m going to have to lay out.” It hurt Mr. Barker that people would be so insecure .
    From that point, Charles and Lucien’s father, Charles Barbarin Sr., took over the band in a roundabout way. People would still call Mr. Barker, but Mr. Barbarin was coordinating things .
    It was Danny Barker’s influence, and his vision of preserving the music, that formed my opinions. He would give us reasons for what we were doing, sort of musical history lessons. I was keen enough to understand what he was saying. When you get Japanese people coming to hear the band, and writers coming in, and people from New York sending boxes of instruments, you had to realize that what he was doing was really important. He would nominate different ones amongst us to talk to documentary makers and tell us, “Come with your shoes shined, wear your black and white, look clean.” So he gave us a sense of individual pride. He gave us something to keep and cherish: that you are somebody, that you are important,