Ken Burns' World War II (liberal columnist attacks political correctness at PBS)

Creators Syndicate ^ | May 10, 2007 | Susan Estrich

[Finny]

I think it's avant garde, chromatic ugliness masquerading as innovation that has killed jazz. When people hear Chick Corea or Pat Metheny, they instantly like it. But many purists insist neither one is "real jazz".

You state it so eloquently! Well said!

[Finny]

Say ... as a bouncer, what was the crowd like? Where your services needed often, or was it a little more kick-back?

You saw those guys? My gawd, how did you get any work done? You lucky guy!! Did you get to listen?

But really, how was the crowd? Who frequented the club? Were they rowdies?

[wtc911]

Being a bouncer at 'Under the Clock' was a breeze. The only problem I ever had was a couple of drunks from out of town who were looking for 'a good time'. Mostly the job involved keeping curious kids from Jersey moving on.

Although there was one dude, a big guy, a one-eyed Black pimp who had two girls with him but who was gay himself. He came in once not knowing what the place really was. I had to ask him to leave because he kept hitting on this skinny white drummer whose name I forget. It was a dicey proposition because the dude was big, solid and a street pimp. I played to his 'dignity' in front of musicians and it worked, he left with nothing more than a brief stare-down. He did give me that 'you ain't worth the sweat' chuckle as he left but so what. I'll admit I was nervous, I remember I kept my right hand on a thick beer mug on the bar throughout the conversation just in case I had to swing it. It pays to remember that at the time I was a 23 year old red-headed Irish guy playing it out in front of a bunch of guys who lived hard and had seen everything. Getting that pimp out to the street without a tussle sent my stock up about ten points.

The joint was in the basement of a brownstone but without the garden (there was an art-deco clock set in the wall over the entrance and that's how it got its name). That is not at all unusual as there are dozens of bars, restaurants, music joints in brownstone basements in the Village, the West Side, Chelsea and the Theater District in midtown.

The place was small, about twenty feet wide by maybe forty feet deep with space taken out for the bar, the kitchen, the rest rooms and storage. Most of the tables were along the wall with the musicians in the back and I heard it all up close. It was a very cool six months.