He could have saved his breath. The minute I got in the house I wakened Daisy and Wila Mae out of a sound sleep, and told them we would have to move away at daybreak. Then I told them what had happened, and Daisy gave her notice in the morning. I found three rooms at Saratoga and Erato.
Cute little thirteen-year-old Wila Mae did not care where we moved so long as we took her with us. Her mother had brought Wila Mae and her sister Violet from a small Louisiana town. Violet, who was fourteen, died very young. Wila Mae lived with Daisy even after I went North to join King Oliver at the Lincoln Gardens in Chicago in 1922. She became a very fine young lady, and before we knew what had happened she married a boy named Sibley and had a son she called Archie.
The people in New Orleans knew me as Wila Mae's godfather, and when her son grew old enough to know what, it was all about he became as fond of me as he was of his mother. Then I became his godfather too. He even took up the trumpet because of me and changed his name to Archie Armstrong, a name that will be his the rest of his life.
Daisy grew so fond of Wila Mae that I was surprised. Daisy never did take to anybody very much. Lots of times she did not care very much even for me. But she loved me and I loved her, and that was that. I can go so far as to say that she was true to me all the time we lived together. When I left for Chicago we were spatting, and I was not responsible for anybody she went with after that. Later I found out that she was running around New Orleans with a childhood friend of mine named Shots Madison. He also was a good cornet player, so everybody said that Daisy only fell for cornet players. After all, a cornet is not a bad instrument to fall for.
My sister Mama Lucy went back to the little sawmill town in Florida where she lived with her old man, her common law husband, for many years. They ran a little gambling joint down there and made all kinds of money. Many times I felt like asking them to lay a little loot on me, but I never did. I have always felt that no matter how much money your relatives may be making they have not got any more than they need. As the good book says, it is better to give than to receive.' I would always delight in giving my family as much money as I could, but I dreaded asking them for anything. I was always the lucky one when it came to making money. In my early music days, of course, I did not make an awful lot, but at that I made a little more money than fellows who did not have any pro fession at all.
In my neighborhood everybody was a little frightened when they heard Lucy was dealing cards and running a game among bad characters. I told them not to worry about her. Mama Lucy was not afraid of bad men. She always kept her chib handy, and with that wide long blade she would soon carve up anybody who tried to get out of line.
There are two women with whom I always felt perfectly safe when they had their chibs with them: sister Mama Lucy and my wife Daisy. It is a funny thing, but hot headed and quick tempered as Daisy was, she never tried to carve me with her knife. Of course several times we had a brick throwing contest, but that was just part of the New Orleans tradition which I had known since I was a kid. I knew well enough how to keep from being hit. Daisy could give Don Newcomb an awful race throwing a curve with a brick. But for all that it did not stop my love for her and for my cornet.
All the big, well known Social Aid and Pleasure Clubs turned out for the last big parade I saw in New Orleans. They all tried to outdo each other and they certainly looked swell. Among the clubs represented were The Bulls, The Hobgoblins, The Zulus, The Tammanys, The Young Men Twenties (Zutty Single ton's club), The Merry-Go-Rounds, The Deweys, The Tulane Club, The Young Men Vidalias, The Money Wasters, The Jolly Boys, The Turtles, The Original Swells, The San Jacintos, The Autocrats, The Frans Sa Mee Club, The Cooperatives, The Economys, The Odd Fellows, The Masons, The Knights of Pythias (my lodge), and The Diamond Swells from out in the Irish Channel. The second liners were afraid to go into the Irish Channel which was that part of the city located uptown by the river front. It was a dangerous neighborhood. The Irish who lived out there were bad men, and the colored boys were tough too. If you followed a parade out there you might come home with your head in your hand.
To watch those clubs parade was an irresistible and absolutely unique experience. All the members wore full dress uniforms and with those beautiful silk ribbons streaming from their shoulders they were a magnificent sight. At the head of the parade rode the aides, in full dress suits and mounted on fine horses with ribbons around their heads. The brass band followed, shouting a hot swing march as everyone jumped for joy. The members of the club marched behind the band wearing white felt hats, white silk shirts (the very best silk) and mohair trousers. I had spent my life in New Orleans, but every time one of those clubs paraded I would second-line them all day long. By carrying the cornet for Joe Oliver or Bunk Johnson I would get enough to eat to hold me until the parade was over.
When a club paraded it would make several stops called "punches" during the day at houses of the members, where there were sandwiches, cold beer and, of course, lots of whiskey. The whiskey did not interest me at that time. All I wanted was to be allowed to hang around with the fellows.
When all the clubs paraded it took nearly all day to see them pass, but one never got tired watching. Black Benny was always the star attraction. He was the only man, musician or not, who dared to go anywhere, whether it was the Irish Channel, Back o' Town, the Creole section in the Seventh Ward or any other tough place. Nobody would have the nerve to bother him. He was just that tough and he was not afraid of a living soul. Wherever he went outside of our ward to beat the drums or to dance he was always treated with the greatest respect.
By the year 1922 I had become so popular from playing in Kid Ory's band and the Tuxedo Brass Band that I too could go into any part of New Orleans without being bothered. Everybody loved me and just wanted to hear me blow, even the tough characters were no exception. The tougher they were the more they would fall in love with my horn, just like those good old hustlers during the honky-tonk days.
Joe Oliver had left New Orleans in 1918, and was now up in Chicago doing real swell. He kept sending me letters and telegrams telling me to come up to Chicago and play second cornet for him. That, I knew, would be real heaven for me.
I had made up my mind that I would not leave New Orleans unless the King sent for me. I would not risk leaving for anyone else. I had seen too many of my little pals leave home and come back in bad shape. Often their parents had to send them the money to come back with. I had had such a wonderful three years on the excursion boats on the Mississippi that I did not dare cut out for some unknown character who might leave me stranded or get me into other trouble. Fate Marable and the Streckfus brothers had made it impossible for me to risk spoiling everything by running off on a wild goose chase.
After I had made all my arrangements I definitely accepted Joe's offer. The day I was leaving for Chicago I played at a funeral over in Algiers, on August 8,1922. The funeral was for the father of Eddie Vincent, a very good trombone player. When the body was brought out of the house to go to the cemetery the hymn we played was Free as a Bird, and we played it so beautifully that we brought tears to everybody's eyes.
The boys in the Tuxedo Brass Band and Celestin's band did their best to talk me out of going up to Chicago. They said that Joe Oliver was scabbing and that he was on the musicians' union's unfair list. I told them how fond I was of Joe and what confidence I had in him. I did not care what he and his band were doing. He had sent for me, and that was all that mattered. At that time I did not know very much about union tactics because we did not have a union in New Orleans, so the stuff about the unfair list was all Greek to me.