Count Basie

Chicago, the late seventies. Changing planes on my way from Los Angeles to Cleveland. Back then when you boarded you walked through the first class section on your way to the middle section where the commoners sat. Ahead of me, in the aisle a small man in a neat sport coat and white sailors cap was just sitting down amid some commotion, and being quite cheery about it. As I passed I looked at him and maybe I was surprised and may have said his name aloud, or mouthed it, "Count Basie". For sure I had the face of recognition when our eyes met. He jumped up again, put out his hand and I shook it. I said his name at the same time he nodded and said, "Count Basie." I grinned and said something charming like, "I know," and kept grinning. That was it, a few seconds of one event fifty years ago and the good memory is hanging on.