Volume 21 Issue 1 - September 2015

up by something Lester Young suggested to him decades earlier: “Just
a little tinkedy-boom for me, Arch, and we’ll go straight ahead, no
fuss, no muss.”
In 1983, Archie hired me to play bass in the quartet he co-led
with vibraphonist Frank Wright, with the redoubtable pianist Wray
Downes aboard. Playing in this group was a large part of my musical
education. Not only was I by far the youngest member – I was used to
that – but in this case, I was also the only white member. There was
never any friction, no overt or serious lecturing on racial issues from
these veterans. However, their stories taught me that there were real
racial barriers in Toronto of the kind I had previously (and naively)
thought were restricted to the Jim Crow practices of the U.S.A. Archie
had a sense of humour about this, as in the following story: He and I
often backed up the great pianist Ray Bryant at the Montreal Bistro.
Among my most prized photographs is one of me flanked by Ray
and Archie. Just before Jim McBirnie pressed the button, Archie said
“You’re the cream in the Oreo, Steve-o!” The resulting laughter is all
over our faces in the photo.
I have very fond memories of playing in the Alleyne-Wright
quartet and being accepted in it despite my young years. Because of
Archie’s belief in classy presentation, we were surely the only group
to play George’s in full tuxedos. I learned a great deal from Archie,
not so much about the nuts and bolts of music, but more to do with
comportment and the jazz history and traditions of Toronto, which
he had absorbed so much of first-hand. He took joy not just in musicmaking,
but in the personalities and stories of musicians, their eccentricities
and individuality. He regaled me with tales about playing with
such classic artists as Billie Holiday, Ben Webster and Lester Young:
that they taught him not just about being professional, but about
being a human being, about giving the music soul.
I well remember a special gig the quartet played for Ontario
Lieutenant-Governor Lincoln Alexander at an event held to honour
Prince Philip. It was very private, by invitation only, and both men got
on famously. There was no press of any kind, which allowed the two
public figures to relax. They enjoyed themselves immensely, playing
darts, drinking pints and conversing freely with everyone; both really
enjoyed the music. It was my first inkling of how Archie was equally
at ease with ordinary people but also with those from the corridors
of power and privilege, mostly because he treated everyone the
same. I soon learned that virtually everybody knew and liked Archie,
including some influential figures – Alexander, Roy McMurtry and
many others. Archie used this connectedness to further the black
Canadian musical community whenever and however he could. It was
one of his greatest gifts.
For various reasons the Alleyne-Wright quartet petered out, but
Archie and I continued working together, often forming the rhythm
section for out-of-town artists. I remember the two of us backing
trumpeter Tom Harrell, just when drummer Terry Clarke had
returned to Toronto after years of living in New York. Hearing him
for the first time, Clarke remarked that Archie’s
splashing ride cymbal, taste and simplicity reminded
him of Billy Higgins – high praise indeed.
Archie and I also did a very memorable tour of
Ireland and Spain with Montreal-based pianist
Oliver Jones in the fall of 1989, the beginning of
which we barely survived. Archie and I flew together
to Heathrow Airport, where we were to catch a
connecting flight to Cork, home of the Guinness Jazz
Festival. That very day the British Isles and the North
Atlantic were ravaged by one of the worst storms to
hit that area in the 20th century, with untold damage
caused by ferocious high winds and lashing rain.
Out of this chaos we eventually caught an Aer Lingus
flight which attempted unsuccessfully to land at
Cork and Shannon. I’ve never been as certain of my
imminent death as during that flight. The plane was
being tossed around like a soda cracker just above
the roiling sea, which seemed sure to swallow us
up whole. Finally the pilot managed a miraculous
landing at Dublin Airport, to the most heartfelt and
relieved ovation I’ve ever heard.
That was just the beginning of our adventures, however. We still
had to get to Cork, and we had no idea where our instruments were.
We found Oliver, and with the alto saxophonist Herb Geller in tow,
they shared a rocky car ride to Cork with us. Fortunately we had a few
days off to recover and eventually my bass and Archie’s drums showed
up on the tarmac in Cork, but not his priceless K-Zildjian cymbals.
They’d evidently been stolen and I felt terrible that such a huge and
irreplaceable part of his sound had been taken so unjustly. Some local
drummers lent Archie good cymbals for the rest of the tour and eventually
he bought himself some new ones, never missing a beat. That
was Archie all over, aware of the past but always looking ahead. I’ll
long remember his ironic and good-humoured variation of the old
Irish greeting – “Top of the mornin’, mothers!” Or something like
that anyway.
In the years since, Archie and I played together less often and saw
a little less of each other. Our relationship remained intact though;
he was the type who kept his friends. He became more involved with
his special projects, including the Evolution of Jazz Ensemble, which
did a great deal to spread the awareness of jazz and Canadian black
history in schools. He also formed Kollage, a band in which he gave
many young musicians the opportunity to learn from his vast experience
by playing under his direction. This passion for mentoring young
musicians led to the establishment of the Archie Alleyne Scholarship
Fund in 2003, to recognize and encourage excellent young black jazz
students in Canada.
Archie Alleyne was an old-school musician who came up the hard
way, self-taught and on the bandstand. He valued both classroomoriented
musical education as well as a more reality/experiencebased
approach – the AASF and Kollage allowed him to offer the best
of both worlds. In late 2011, his vast contributions to this country’s
society and culture were recognized with Canada’s highest civilian
honour when he was named a Member of the Order of Canada. This
was greeted with great satisfaction and pride by Archie and his many
friends and colleagues.
I regret that I didn’t see more of Archie in the last few years or in
the days and weeks before he passed. But I’m happy to have known
him so well, very grateful to have shared so many musical experiences
with him and to have learned so much from them. I know I speak
for many Toronto musicians when I say that I’ll miss Archie a lot and
also in saying a big thank you to him for leaving the city’s jazz scene a
much better place for his presence in it.
Archie Alleyne
Toronto bassist Steve Wallace writes a blog called “Steve
Wallace – jazz, baseball, life and other ephemera” which
can be accessed at wallacebass.com. Aside from the topics
mentioned, he sometimes writes about movies and food.
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