26/05/2024
It was a beautiful day Sunday, June 9, 1991. At Chene Park, the echoes of jazz legends danced in the air, setting a scene from a dream. It was here I found myself not just in the midst of another freelance gig, but at the crossroads of serendipity. I was to assist none other than Miles Dewey Davis III, "The Chief," on the eve of his last concert here in Detroit.
My rhythm in sync with the anticipation of the crew, we prepared for his arrival. Though I'd brushed paths with Miles twice before—courtesy of jazz titans Marcus Miller and Tom Barney—this was an altogether different experience. I was not just in Miles’ orbit; I was his aide, albeit momentarily.
As his limousine approached, my pulse quickened with the hope of a closer encounter. Yet, in a twist of fate, Miles remained in his Limo, stepping out only when the stage called. His manager, emerging in his stead, assigned me tasks, keeping me inside and away from the excitement outside.
Post-performance, the space inside was thick with adoration for Miles, as fervent fans clamored for a picture or an autograph. Amidst this, I stood reserved, professional to a fault, until his manager caught my hesitation. "Why are you hanging back here?" he challenged. With a modest shake of my head, I alluded to professionalism, of not intruding upon the space already crowded with admirers.
Miles, though unwell, still carried the night with his indefinable aura. His manager, accepting my reticence made an offer of securing an autograph I could not refuse. My copy of "Miles, The Autobiography" found its way with a secretive murmur, into the hands of Miles with a smile in my direction.
When the book was returned to me, it bore no signature on neither the inside front nor back cover. Disheartened, I almost accepted this absence as my answer; Miles had declined to sign. But then, a turn of a page by his manager unveiled a treasure: a sketch, intimately adorned with my name, a rare glimpse into the soul of Miles Davis. His manager's words, "Miles doesn't draw for everybody," sealed that moment in the depths of my heart.
As you can imagine this sketch remains one of my most treasured possessions, a stroke of genius from the hand of a master, eternally connecting me to Miles’ legacy.