Celebrating Sachmo

One of my favorite pasttimes is visiting the homes of great people. From Goethe’s townhome in Frankfurt to Syngman Rhee’s cottage near the Korean DMZ, each home I have visited has broadened my understanding of ‘greatness’, that intangible factor that carries a man or woman from accomplished to celebrated.

So yesterday I took the #7 train an hour north to Queens, to Corona, a humble working class neighborhood that’s a bit tumble down today. I made the pilgrimage to honor the memory of a man who has long made me smile. From "Potato Head Blues" to "Hello, Dolly!", "Mack the Knife" and his signature, "What a Wonderful World”, each Louis Armstrong recording makes me want to sing or dance or play along.

Visiting his house was a special treat, because the enthusiastic guide shared so much with the small group of jazz lovers who made the trek to Queens. What I learned at Louis Armstong's house was just what I have learned at all other famous-people-homes: success is hard work. It is really as simple as that.

Sachmo was born in abject poverty, in The Battlefield in New Orleans. As a youngster he worked an assortment of odd jobs for hustlers and pimps and theives, witnessing more bawdy behavior in infancy than I’ve seen in a lifetime. He learned to play the cornet in the Colored Waif's Home for Boys, where he was incarcerated for shooting a gun into the air. After his release - still just a kid - he played his cornet in brothels, from late in the evening to early in the morning, and then hauled coal by day for a small but dependable wage, because “you never knew when a joint would get shut down.”

By the age of twenty, he was judged to be the best trumpeter in New Orleans. He played in parades and funerals and private parties; he performed tirelessly with King Oliver's Creole Jazz Band and the Sydney Band and any other group that would provide him a platform. In Outliers: The Story of Success, Malcolm Gladwell theorizes that it takes 10,000 hours of practice to reach a point of mastery. If that theory holds water, it is easy to see why Louis Armstrong surpassed the many other jazz musicians in New Orleans during the Roaring Twenties: plain, tireless hard work.

Throughout his life, he viewed music as work. From a very young age, he listened intently to musicians and judged for himself their skill, their tone, their finess, their ability to speak a range of emotions through their voice or instrument. And then he worked on his own tonality, both as a vocalist and trumpeter. This is perhaps the significant difference between Louis Armstrong and many a musician. He never viewed himself as an artist, but rather an entertainer. It may have been this approach, this commitment to skill and production rather than an ethereal pursuit of inspiration, that thrust him into the realm of greatness.

To his neighbors and friends, Sachmo was known for his sense of humor and his great laugh - but especially for his generosity. Somehow, I am not surprised. Generosity seems often to separate the good from the great.

Next time you visit New York City, take the #7 to 111th Street. It is a long journey, but if you plan your trip just right, you can catch a live jazz concert in the Armstrong’s Japanese garden, you'll gasp at their stunning kitchen with bright blue cabinetry, and most especially, you'll enjoy a deeper look into the genius, the King of Jazz.