Ben Schenck on Klezmer, the Spotted Cat, and telling the passage of time by accordion players

[Talking about tipping and playing at the Spotted Cat]

Ben Schenck: People throw 20s in there. It’s funny. Obviously, the most you get is 1s and then 5s and then 20s and then 10s.

Interviewer: If you go to the bank and they’re like, “Oh, want to get money for tipping,” you ask for 5s and 1s. People have gone “I’m going to be going out. I want to have money for–”

BS: I guess ATMs spit out 20s. There’s just a lot less 10s in circulation.

Interviewer: What is the best time slot? [On Frenchmen St.]

BS: For years, we had Saturday nights [at the Spotted Cat] from 6:00 to 10:00.

Interviewer: That’s a great time slot.

BS: Then the ten o’clock band would go 10:00 to 2:00, but that slot rotated. There was four or five different bands that would rotate once a month. We had 6:00 to 10:00 every week. I was paying a seven-piece band like $200 to $300 [each].I remember the first time we made $200, we were like, “Holy crap.” Then it got to be where two was a bad night. This is a seven piece-band, and that’s a $100 in the band fund too.

Interviewer: Do you have any sense of what year that was that you first made $200?

BS: Yes, because I remember who the accordion player was who was only with us for a year. I’m going to say it was maybe 2008. The bandstand used to be on the right as you go in the door. That was when Trish and Ed had it. I think that was 2008 because my daughter was a baby.

What I think happened was Trish and Ed’s lease was up after a 10 year-lease and they had signed some ridiculous rent cheap because in those days, Frenchmen Street was deadsville. It really wasn’t like it is now.

The place had the vibe of a coffee shop. There were couches, you had the bandstand and members playing there, and people sitting. Ama, when we came back from Katrina, she would sneak our baby in under her thing and sit there on the couch and nurse.

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BS: Anyways, it [Spotted Cat] went out of business and then that’s when the Café Negril people, took it over and have been great. That place used to be an oyster wholesale that whole-saled oysters to the French Quarter.

Interviewer: Wow. When would that be?

BS: I think The Spotted Cat opened up mid ’90s, maybe late ’90s, maybe it was ’98 and they had a 10 year-lease.

Interviewer 2: Wasn’t it 2000?

Interviewer 1: I thought it was 2001.

Interviewer 2: This is the whole thing, the fact that this information is floating around out there in different people’s heads.

BS: Of course. We had a gig there before Katrina. When was that? We left it because we got a gig on Bourbon Street [at the Seaport] that was, I think, 3.5 years right up till the weekend of Katrina and we–

Interviewer 1: Mid or early 2001? No, 2002, that was 3.5 years before the storm….

BS: Yes. Our first CD came out in 2003 and that was when we were at– We had a gig there for a couple of years.

Interviewer 1: When you’re saying “we”, is that Panorama?

BS: Panorama, yes.

Then after Katrina, Ama and our new baby, Rogan, who’s now 15 and a football player, came back from Texas. He was born in Texas. We came back in December of ’05 and then I’m trying to put stuff back together. I called up Trish and Ed. We got back in there, we started out Thursday nights and then we moved up to Friday nights, and then they went out of business and the new owners took over. I went in Friday night’s back again. They were like, “Would you do Saturdays?”

At first I was like, “No, I want Fridays because I want to keep Saturdays open for weddings and stuff.” Then I was like, “Wait a minute. Saturdays would be great.” We’ve had Saturdays from 2008 until COVID. 2008 was when the new people took over. They opened in October of ’08. Pretty sure. We went to Saturday nights. Washboard Chaz had Fridays.

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[Talking about the arc of Frenchmen St. through time and how bands get paid]

BS: The year that we first made $200 [each], Patty Harrison was our accordion player and he was only here- When was he our accordion player? Maybe like ’13, I want to say. It was the first time and that didn’t happen again for a while. I think Patty on accordion was subbing because he came here from Minnesota. Great accordion player—stayed a year and then moved to Brooklyn, and then moved back to Minnesota, but I think he came into town to sub for a few gigs.

Interviewer 2: Nice. Okay, so 2013. One of the things that we talk about a lot is with the whole arc of the history of Frenchmen Street. What do you think had changed maybe even since the storm up until 2013, what happened? 

BS: Yes. Well, of course, right after Katrina, things were really dead, but before long they started to really bounce because there was all these people in town helping to rebuild New Orleans. Then I think Treme [the TV show] helped a lot as well. It’s the way gentrification happens. It was the cool place that only the hip people know about, and then the concierges found out about it and it’s just been mayhem.

Interviewer 2: Taxi drivers. I heard people talking about how taxi drivers would tell people in their cabs if they like the vibe of someone, liked talking to them, then they would tell them about Frenchmen Street.

BS: Okay, yes, yes.

Interviewer 2: So, more and more people, and then in 2013 up until the pandemic, what was the arc? Was it still upwards?

BS: Yes. I think it had plateaued at that capacity because you can only fit so many people in the Spotted Cat. we were saying, ‘I wish they’d make a $10 cover and we’d get fewer people,’ We were thinking if it was a $10 cover, it wouldn’t be as crowded because it was packed and I’d have to go back to the back of the bar to get our cut. We always would sell back the $1s and the $5s to them for their drawer, and I couldn’t get back there. We’d go upstairs to count the money and then I would take this huge wad of cash, put my hat over it, and luckily, I’m skinny and I’d get through [back to the bar] Then go back upstairs and pass it out [to the band-members]. Like I said, in the last couple of years, even in the summer, if we only made $200 each, we were disappointed. That was low bread for a seven-piece band.

Interviewer 2: Can I ask? [Were y’all making] a percentage of the bar the whole time?

BS: Yes. We’re making 20% of the bar, and honestly, I never was sure if we were getting the whole door or part of the door.

Interviewer 2: When there was a door?

BS: Yes. Well, there was a minute where they said, we’re going to stop charging a cover and maybe they were giving us more of the bar.

Interviewer 2: Oh, they were charging cover though?

BS: Yes, I’m not sure when the cover started.

Interviewer 2: Yes, I was trying to remember.

BS: It wasn’t that long ago, but then there was a point where they said, “We’re not doing a cover anymore,” and that didn’t last. They went back to doing a cover charge. I’ve always felt like the people, the owners, and the staff, at the Spotted Cat have really had our backs. Certainly through this thing, and I feel like there really is a culture. We’re a team. We all play the music and you sell the beer. The no-cover charge wasn’t great and I think most of the musicians weren’t into it. I think there was a fear at one point that, “Oh, they’re going to clean house and run all the jazz bands out and bring in rock bands or funk bands or something.” That didn’t happen.

Interviewer 1: When was that?

BS: A couple of years ago, two to three years ago. These are the things you measure time by—like, who is your accordion player?

Interviewer 1: [chuckles]

BS: The accordion has been the instrument that’s really had the most turnover. Yes. Aurora [Nealand] has been with us since Katrina and Charlie [Halloran] pretty much. Doug [Garrison] has been our drummer forever. Matt Perrine’s been our tuba player forever. It’s great. Just having that longevity, it gets to where you can finish each other’s sentences.

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 [Ben talking about his early years in New Orleans]

Interviewer: It sounds like your years of the Frenchmen story is largely one band or one venue?

BS: Well, there was the Klezmer All-stars before that.

Interviewer: Tell us about the early years.

BS: I moved here in July of 1988 because I got a house-sitting gig up in this neighborhood. I came for Jazz Fest. The second time, a college friend of mine said, “Hey, my dad lives in New Orleans and needs somebody to watch his house for the summer.” Because he taught at Newman. He’s a school teacher. I was like, “Yes, I’ll do it.” I went home, got my shit, moved here with a $100, a bike, and a clarinet [laughs].

Interviewer: What else do you need?

BS: Yes, pretty much. I house-sat over here on Soniat street. Anyway, I started hanging out, going to Preservation Hall all the time. I eventually discovered Cafe Brasil, which at that time didn’t even sell alcohol. It was just coffee. Apparently, it had been like a car showroom, I think, like a place you would buy a car. I think that was because it has those big doors.

Interviewer: It has a big open space I’ve always wondered about.

BS: It was like a showroom for cars way back in the day.

Interviewer: See, these are the bits that I’m trying to fill in, is like what each building was?

BS: That’s what I have heard. I don’t know that for sure. I’m pretty sure that I remember the Spotted Cat when it was an oyster place. Then DBA was an art supply store like you would go buy pencils and paint brushes. and then it was a theater. It was called the Marigny Theater. After the art supply went out of business, they put a theater in there. 

Interviewer: When you first moved to town, what was your impression of Frenchmen St.? How did it figure into your musical landscape?

BS: Well, I think Snug was open then. I don’t think I ever went there. I used to go to the Dream Palace and Cafe Brasil was like, I remember it was like open mic, singer-songwriter kind of thing. I was brand new in town. I was like, “Well, where else can I hang out?” [the barista at Cafe Brasil said] there was a place called the Economy in the Warehouse District; I never found it. […] Then there was also Tyler’s Beer Garden up on Magazine Street, but that closed, I think, shortly after I got here. I never went there; I think it closed before I got here.

Frenchmen, it wasn’t much, but here’s the thing: this was the oil bust. This was like the whole oil industry left in 1984, and all the money left. I wish I had bought a house in the Bywater [laughs] because you could get a double for $20,000, like a thousand down and @200 a month in those days. It just wasn’t what I was thinking about at all. I was waiting tables and sitting in with the jazz bands. There were jazz clubs on Decatur Street and in those days there were still jazz clubs in Treme. There was the Petroleum Lounge and Joe’s Cozy Corner.

Then the Caldonia—this is before the Candlelight. The Petroleum Lounge was the place where I would go sit in with the Treme Brass Band. And also Sydney’s Saloon with the Rebirth. There wasn’t much on Frenchmen. The Dream Palace; I’m trying to remember who played there. You probably had some rock bands and some funk bands.

Interviewer: They had the Neville Family in there every week for a while.

BS: Is that right?

Interviewer: Yeah, it was the Neville Family and then the…. Radiators on Saturdays? 

BS: The Radiators for sure.

Interviewer: Same lineup and it was every week.

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[Talking more about gig pay]

BS: Right. Well, see New Orleans was Deadsville. There was no money here. There were no people here, half the Marigny was vacant and the Bywater and uptown all over. I paid $100 for two rooms in a group house. Then I got an apartment on Dauphine between Spain and St. Roch for like $210 a month. That was my own place with a balcony. Then it eventually went up to maybe $400. In ’94, Ama and I moved in on Jena Street and we had a really cool big apartment for $400 a month. Them days are gone.

Interviewer: I wrote a piece recently about the cost of living in the last forty years compared to gig pay being totally flat.

BS: Oh, gig pay being totally flat? Right. That’s it.

Interviewer 2: wait how many years?

Interviewer: Basically since 1980. It’s only sent this data back to like 2000, but using anecdotal stuff from people I’ve talked to, like the data about rent in the ’80s and ’90s is all anecdotal, but it’s pretty clear.

BS: I can tell you what what I paid. So, Amasa [Miller] was our original accordion player–

Interviewer: I forgot about him, we gotta talk to him. He’s so nice.

BS: He’s super nice. He’ll talk your ear off. He’s been Charmaine Neville’s piano player since the ’70s. Amasa said in the ’70s, a gig paid $100 and today a gig pays $100.

Interviewer: It is literally flat. It’s really shocking. If you put that compared to the way rent has gone up, it’s horrifying. The piece I wrote was based on how I’ve heard people talk about, “Oh, I would make my rent in one gig.” Then the question is now how many gigs in an ideal world, somebody have to play to make a comfortable living. It’s kind of exploring that.

BS: That’s a great question.

Interviewer: Unfortunately, there’s no great answers, but–

BS: Well, $100 is our minimum and that’s certainly not on a Friday or Saturday. It’s just like, if you want us to come play happy birthday to your grandma, I can get a couple of people for $100 each. The jazz band, we’ll do it, especially if it’s like a community thing or it’s a friend of a friend or whatever.

Interviewer: Talking about rates of good pay, how did Frenchmen gigs compare to other gigs? Was Frenchmen better paying, worse paying? [now or in the past]

BS: About the same as far as club gigs? Well, that’s when I started actually working on Frenchmen and that would’ve been ’91 maybe ’92. ’92 was the year that the band really blew up. Then I left at the end of ’93. We started out at Cal’s Kaldi’s Coffee House on Decatur St. Which isn’t there anymore now. It’s like a swamp-tour place. Not too far from Molly’s [at the Market, a bar] Maybe a block down from Molly’s. It had been a little bank and then it became this really cool coffee house and we were playing for tips. I think it was all tips there. Certainly wasn’t a cover charge. Maybe we got a portion of the ring, I don’t know, but I played a lot of $35 gigs. The Klezmer All-Star started as a trio, me, Jonathan [Freilich]  and this guy, Arthur. I met Jonathan at UNO because I started UNO in ’90 and finished in ’94. I met Arthur at UNO and then the three of us went over and started playing on Kermit’s gig at Little People’s place, in the Treme, on Barracks Street when Kermit left the Rebirth and started his Ruffins jam session, which became the barbecue swingers and–

Interviewer: Arthur was a bass player, wasn’t he?

BS: Yes. Arthur was the bass player and Jonathan played guitar. I was really into klezmer just because I’m a clarinet player. I’m not Jewish. I just dug the music.

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[The Klezmer All-Stars, the clarinet and weekly gigs in the 90s]

BS: Oh, I just heard this Dave Tarras track yesterday that I’m obsessed with now and let’s see if I can–

[playing music on a guitar]

Oh, I’m out of tune. Anyway, enough of that.

[laughter]

Wait, I can tune it. It’s a really killer–it’s like klezmer music for a clarinet player, is where I get my ‘rock and roll’ kicks. I got a phone call from Will Samuels [who worked at Shir Chadash Synagogue] many years ago and that’s the gig that I met you on, [Ben met Hannah] saying, “Hey, we’re putting together an all-Jewish band to play for Passover.”

I’m like, “Awesome, I’m not Jewish.”

He’s like, “Wait, I thought you were Jewish.”

I know, everybody thinks I’m Jewish, but I’m a Quaker—I just dig the music.

He said, “Well, okay. You’re honorary. You’re in. It’s all good.”

[laughter. playing music]

Interviewer: That’s a very klezmer melody.

BS: Yes. It’s that scale. The first time I heard klezmer was in DC on the radio and I didn’t know what I was listening to. It was on the public radio station, Sunday folkloric show. I eventually met the guy who was being interviewed that day and he actually came and rolled with my brass band, The Last Mardi Gras. Henry Sapoznik who was the guy who–he’s from Brooklyn. He’s a banjo player and he was playing old-time, Virginia. Then he discovered his grandparents ’78s of the old Jewish recordings from New York in the twenties and they had banjo. He started getting bands together because at that time in New York, the young generation was not at all interested in Yiddish music but then the next generation, when he was a young adult was like, “This shit is cool.”

Anyhow, I was really into Jewish music, and then Jonathan had this album that I had, and I was like, “I’ve never met anybody else who even knows about this music.” We were like, “Let’s play some of this shit.”

I had already transcribed some things, so we had like eight klezmer melodies and then a few trad tunes. Then I was also really into Creole music from Martinique that also features the clarinet. That’s great, and a totally different party. We worked in a couple of those and we had a trio and we got a gig at Kaldi’s and yes, it was $30 in tips. If that–you walked with $5 more than once. 

Then, we heard about Glenn Hartman because he was a student at Tulane. I think he was a grad student at that point maybe. He was a keyboard player. I heard Glenn with a band called, I want to say, the Vince Behrman Trio, but it was this frat boy funk band… Arlene Horowitz was my modern dance teacher [in high school]. She totally saved my life when I was 15 years old and put me on my path; I had this cadre of Jewish women who had been looking out for me my whole life. She was with me that night that I heard Glenn and the Vince Behrman Trio at Café Brasil.

I looked up Glenn; I worked in the dance department at Tulane, and I walked over to the music department and found his cubby and put a note: “Here’s my number, we have our klezmer band and would you be interested in playing?” It turned out he owned an accordion but had never played it.

Interviewer [H]: [chuckles] Me too.

BS: There you go, yes. Me too! [chuckles] He was a piano player and he’s like, “Well, I got this accordion.” I was like, “Well, fuck it. Bring it out, just do your best. You’ll find the left hand, but I know you can find your way around the right hand.”

He started bringing that out so now we’re clarinet, accordion, guitar, and bass. That was this huge moment because I didn’t have to play every single melody. Accordion is a great blend for the clarinet. It’s a very hospitable blend. Then Jonathan’s friend Ben Elman moved to town and he played sax, so we got him in on tenor sax. Then this guy, Bill joined on drums and then we started to–word was getting around. Then we got a gig at Café Brasil. We got a weekly gig at Café Brasil. 

Interviewer: What was the day of the week?

BS: Ah, I want to say it was Thursdays. I remember that—I think after us was Banda L’Ogun, which was a big Brazilian percussion thing. That was really cool. Ogun is one of the deities—one of the orishas—and Banda, so, “Band of Ogun”. This woman Angela would just get up there and sing over with the drums and then Sid Snow was on guitar. He would just follow Angela. Wherever she went, he would follow her, and everything else was drums. It was singer, drums and electric guitar.

Interviewer: That’s really cool.

BS: Yes, and that was a great band. Then I would get up there and play a Jewish melody over the top of the Samba drums once in a while. That was super fun. That was like ‘92–at that point, Café Brasil was selling alcohol and it was pulling big crowds. The Iguanas had a weekly there. We also had a weekly at a place called Lucky’s on St. Charles.

Interviewer: I had a gig at Lucky’s a while ago!

BS: At Lucky’s? All right. Well, did they bring your own stir fry? They had a thing where you bring vegetables and they would throw it on their grill and stir fry it for you.

Interviewer: No….!

BS This guy Mickey worked the grill there and he eventually died of AIDS, unfortunately, but he was running the grill at Lucky’s and you could do your laundry too.

Interviewer: I was there in 2020 and laundry’s still okay.

BS: Yes. Well, so eventually there was an article in the Times-Picayune about this band playing Jewish music in New Orleans [The Klezmer All-Stars] and maybe, I don’t think we had Willie Green yet, but eventually, we got the Neville Brothers’ brothers drummer because Jonathan and Glenn and probably Ben were going to the Maple Leaf and sitting in with the uptown funk bands and got to know Willie. And so Bill our drummer, he quit, he had other stuff to do and we’re like, we need a drummer and they were hanging out with Willie Green, like, “Hey Willie, you want to play Jewish music?”

It was like a joke. He is like, “Sure.” Like, “Really?” Willie’s an incredible drummer. Then it was all this excitement. We were at Café Brasil and we were definitely selling the place out or packing the room and that’s when I started to see that I wasn’t going to last because it got louder and louder and I really wanted to do a traditional thing. Also, I was still pretty new on the clarinet at this stage– I started playing the clarinet in, I think it was ‘84.

I eventually did a Master’s in Conducting, Orchestral Conducting. I wanted to do composition, but they didn’t really have a composition major. They said, “You could do conducting, but also do some composing.” In the end, I didn’t even really do any composing. I took some clarinet lessons with Victor Goines. I was 20 when I started the clarinet. I never really had a lot of training. I had a couple of years of lessons in college, but then I graduated a couple of years later, so I was really on my own. I think I wasn’t the right clarinetist for that band to begin with. Also, klezmer music is like virtuoso music for the clarinet. Dave Tarras, Naftule Brandwein, Michael Winograd. I’ve never been THAT clarinet player. That’s why I have Aurora [Nealand, sax] and Michael Bergeman. My wheelhouse is playing a melody straight up the middle, driving it straight up the middle.

I got fired from the Klezmer All Stars at Café Brasil sometime in, probably, October of ’93 and then finished out the year. That was painful, for sure, but it was a big relief, too, because it wasn’t working. I wasn’t enjoying it. I remember riding my bike back to my $210 apartment on Dauphine Street in the Marigny and I made a decision not to look back. Like, “I’m going to cut ties completely.” There’s the temptation to fight it. There’s a temptation to be like, “This is wrong. This shouldn’t be happening.”

Interviewer: It’s like a break-up.

BS: Yes. Absolutely. A band is like a family. Totally. It was my big break in showbiz, honestly, because I took the time to finish my master’s degree without that distraction.

[* See Ben’s comment at the bottom for more accordion history – we got sidetracked during the interview]

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[More about the founding of Panorama, the many accordion players and learning instruments on the job]

BS: That’s always been what I want to do [play acoustically], no electricity necessary. If we’re playing Jazz Fest, yes, we need electricity. At the Spotted Cat, we still only use one microphone. That’s for me to talk to the audience. I do play into it because it’s a really loud band. Panorama can set up anywhere and make a party.

Interviewer 2: You had said seven-piece?

Ben: Me, Aurora [Nealand] on alto, Charlie [Halloran] on trombone, Michael Ward-Bergeman on accordion, Mark Rubin on tenor banjo, Matt Perrine on the tuba, and Doug Garrison on the drums. It’s a great instrumentation. You have it all. You’ve got the sizzle, you’ve got the ambience of the accordion, you’ve got the horns, you’ve got harmony, you’ve got counterpoint, you’ve got that big, fat bass. Banjo and tuba, that’s the Hot Seven. Banjo and tuba. That’s like the early Fletcher Henderson band, pre-swing. Because swing was upright and guitar. Swing music is bass and guitar making all those overtones and just playing quarter notes, but pre-swing was tuba and banjo. That’s our thing. I digress. What were we talking about?

Interviewer: You said Panorama was 25 years. That would be–

BS: We started in November of ’95. We played at a wedding. It was me and this guy, Monty.

Interviewee: Monty Davis?

BS: No, Monty Montgomery on tuba. Remember Monty? Did you ever know Monty? Monty would be another one to talk to. He loves to talk. He’s in DC now.

Interviewer: Finding some of the folks who don’t live here anymore has been a recent goal.

BS: Yes. I can totally put you in touch with Monty. Actually, I met him when I was with the Klezmer All Stars. Jonathan’s cousin, Dahlia, was playing darbuka with us. She was a 22-year-old hippie when she was playing with us. She had met Monty because Monty’s a great conga player. We were over there getting high in this apartment on Esplanade. I was with Jonathan, and Glenn, and everybody, and Dahlia, and then Monty and I got on the conga drums and really had fun.

Actually, Monty was the first person I told when I got fired from the Klezmer All Stars. He was like, “If you ever want to start something, I play tuba.” That stuck in my mind. Our first gig was November of ’95 and I left the Klezmer All Stars in December of ’93, so it was two years in between the two, during which time, I practiced and transcribed a bunch of tunes and just lay fallow for a while and just like, “What do I want to do? All acoustic and I own the name.”

Interviewer: 25 years later, it’s a staple!

BS: It’s still here. Yes. Right. It’s very successful. That’s why I’m cool with the Klezmer All Stars guys because success is the best revenge [laughter]. Yes. Glenn has played with us. We recorded a track with Ben Ellman. Glenn subs on accordion.

Interviewer 2: All these accordion players. It sounds like you’ve just got like a whole stable of accordion players! [laughs].

BS: Well, they come and go. After Amasa [Miller] was Patty Farrell and then, after Katrina, his place flooded, he moved to New York. Now, he lives in Berlin. He’s married with a kid. He’s a genius accordion player, really deep, beautiful accordion player. When he left, I got Patty Harrison. I just found him online and cold called him and said, “How’d you like to move to New Orleans and be our accordion player?” He’d been looking for something to do. He did. He only lasted a year, but during that time, Walt McClements, he got his accordion together. He was doing that band, Why Are We Building Such a Big Ship?

Interviewer: I love his lyrics. 

BS: Oh, he is a beautiful cat.

Interviewer: He’s not in town anymore, is he?

BS: No. His boyfriend is a doctor and got a job in LA. He’s based out of LA. I haven’t seen him in a million years. He was our accordion player for quite a while. The thing about Walter was every gig, he had more shit together on the accordion.

Interviewer: That’s cool.

BS: We have a history in this band of people figuring out their instrument. We can’t really do that anymore, but like Geneviève Duval, she had a year in on the trombone. Did you ever know her? She’s pre-Katrina.

Interviewer: I don’t think I met her.

BS: She was taking lessons from Wolf, may he rest in peace, on trombone. I said, “When you get it together, come join my band.” She really figured out the instrument in the band.

Interviewer: weekly gigs are great for that!

Ben: Yes. Amasa [Miller] had an accordion, but had never played gigs on it. Patty Mackey was a mandolin, fiddle, and guitar player, but we found him a tenor banjo and he was our banjo player for 18 years. Now, he’s awesome banjo player and his thing is ragtime. He still subs with us, but he’s a school teacher now. I learned a lot of the clarinet in this band. That’s the thing. Nothing makes you work like having a deadline, having a gig.

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[Talking about the magic of Frenchmen St., how it figures into making a living as a musician, and the importance of weekly gigs]

BS: It’s the magic of New Orleans and Frenchmen Street and just music itself and music business, there’s just really weird synchronicities.

Interviewer: Those do happen so much more often in New Orleans than they do anywhere else.

BS: Seems like.

Interviewer: It does make you believe in something.

BS: Yes, absolutely. This was a special place even before there was a city here. I just think the Spotted Cat has been such a great thing. I really like the people who have been running it now since ’08. I always feel like they have our backs and they look at it as a partnership. They own the name. I don’t think they own the building. They’re the capital, we’re labor. It’s a pretty friendly relationship. They’ve always been really responsive to us.

Interviewer: Anyways, I’ll maybe end with this. What percentage of your total living in the last 20 whatever years do you think you made on Frenchmen Street?

BS: Most. Well, not the weddings, and the weddings are a bigger payday, but they’re not as frequent. Our business model has pretty much been the weekly gig and then weddings, conventions, private stuff. I think most of it is probably the Spotted Cat. Certainly, since Katrina I would say, certainly 50% of my personal income is the Spotted Cat because it’s every week. If we were averaging, say, the last year until pandemic, say, we averaged $200 each and that’s a low estimate. It’s probably more like $225, maybe even $235 or something. Times  ~40 gigs a year because I go out of town in the summer or we have another gig.

I kept pretty good records, I guess $200 times 40 would be $8,000, $225 would be probably $10,000, maybe $250 would be $10,000. I have tended to make 18, 20 [thousand/year]. I think I made $25,000 one year. [crosstalk]

BS: When I do a wedding, I take a leader’s cut, but I don’t take a leader’s cut at the Cat. It’s definitely been a huge part of why there’s still Panorama Jazz Band, because no gigs, the cats would get busy with other stuff. Having that weekly has really been huge for keeping the band. Like I tell the audience, “no you, no us.” There is no band without a crowd.

Interviewer: Right. True. Going back to the conversation I was having in 2018 was just asking people that, how does Frenchmen Street figure into the whole living you make? It’s really often, “it’s 50%, it’s 90%. It’s maybe only 25%, but it’s the most steady 25%” The way that I’m keeping this whole project from being just an exercise in academia, 

BS: Ivory Tower. Just disconnected.

Interviewer: I’m trying to keep it grounded in the real world, like what did we learn? How do we nurture music spots? How do we nurture musical incubators? That’s the real world value….

BS: The weekly [gig], man. Do you know that band in New York called Slavic Soul Party? Aurora was just hanging out with them the other night, I got a text of them playing this morning. Matt Moran’s an old friend of mine, and he came here to play with Panorama for  Mardi Gras, play bass drum, and he was talking about his band. I said, “What you’ve got to do is get a weekly. It doesn’t matter where it is. It might take you a year to build it up.” He’s had that weekly at Barbès in Brooklyn now for a million years, and that’s how you have a band. That’s how you have cats that stick with you for 15 years.