WALLY REMEMBERS episode #1

WALTER MAURICE HOUSER - solicitor, musician, raconteur and my guardian angel

Martin Drew used to say that Ronnie (Scott) was a “farver figure”to him.

WALLY HOUSER was a farver figure to me. West End solicitor, alto saxophonist and close mate of Sandy Brown and others, he knew of me from my playing with Tubby Hayes and Ronnie.

And when I had decided to train to become a lawyer myself and was unable to find “articles”(an apprenticeship) with any of the firms I approached, he rescued me by not only offering me the position of being his articled clerk but by also finding me and my wife (via one of his property company clients) a choice of three rent-controlled flats! We ended up spending several happy years thanks to Wally in a 5th floor 3 bedroom flat in that magnificent art deco “aircraft carrier”in Shepherd’s Bush Road called THE GRAMPIANS.

Serving my legal apprenticeship with Wally was a stimulating and I suspect unique experience. Who else as an articled clerk would be dispatched from the office (an elegant building in Wimpole Street), not to the Law Courts to issue a writ, but to the Everyman cinema, Hampstead to watch Stanley Kubrick’s THE KILLING? We shared a love of film as well as jazz and Wally was determined that my time as his employee would include seeing his (and now my) favourite film noir. Incidentally Wally is married to actress Geraldine Moffat who starred (Britt Ekland’s brief appearance was just an erotic sideshow!) opposite Michael Caine in Mike Hodges’s masterpiece GET CARTER.

Wally had showbiz clients like that wonderful actor Michael Gough and jazz clients like Jimmy Deuchar, Vic Ash and Tony Archer with whose affairs I assisted.

He was notably solicitor to Ronnie and Pete King and a co-director of the club. If you saw the recent documentary “RONNIE’S” on BBC television, you will have heard Wally’s voice-over in several scenes and seen him on camera outside the club with Pete when Ronnie’s funeral cortege was assembling. [I personally found the sight of the hearse moving off with that tenor saxophone made of white flowers on the roof unbearably moving]

From his position at the centre of the London jazz scene, Wally has a fund of hilarious anecdotes and I have prevailed on him to share some of them with us on this website. What he has sent me – some droll stories about Stan Getz, Sonny Stitt and Art Blakey – left me gagging for more but he said that this would have to do as a first instalment.

So – over to you, Wal:

Like a kid in a sweetshop, that was me . I’d been to New York with Ronnie and Pete to try to sort out the rancorous dispute between the American Federation of Musicians and our Musicians’ Union ( a full story in itself) and we now had leave to book top jazz players at the club, the first being Zoot Sims in 1961 . He was well known to Pete and Ronnie and so easy to be with. Unlike many others called Stan Getz whom Zoot described as an interesting bunch of guys and who Ronnie blamed for his slipped disc…….. from leaning over backwards to please Stan Getz

Getz was not difficult . He was impossible. A genius given ten helpings of talent but not one of humanity.

He was booked often at the club. On the last occasion he complained that his quartet was not being paid as much as the Buddy Rich big band and left after the first Friday of his two week engagement. This led to disputes between the Unions and all relationship with Getz severed. However, shortly before his death he called Ronnie and apologised. Ronnie flew immediately to see him in New York.

Let’s take a look at Sonny Stitt. I just loved that guy. As Spike was with Bobby Wellins,  so I was with Sonny. We hit it off during his first visit in early 1964. I told him I was a sort of alto player and he invited me to see him on Saturday afternoon at the club where he would “teach me a few tricks”which he duly did.

 He was very generous showing me progressions and fingering. He was big on breathing. He was as thin as a stick but had a pot belly about the size of a soldier’s tin helmet and invited me to punch him. I just tapped him. It was also the consistency of a tin helmet.

He drank a lot and I think our Saturdays were to avoid boredom and the lure of the whisky although he always had a half bottle with him. While in London he went to see a hypnotherapist to try to help his drinking. Not much good so he ended up having a drink with the therapist. In his alto case he carried a fearful looking switch blade. “If anyone fucks with me I’m going to cut him a new asshole”* was his creed . Indeed his very words. He was the lone wolf. A black musician touring and at risk.

Whenever he was in Europe he would call me . Whenever he was  coming to England he would write and we would arrange to meet. I last saw him in about 1980. We had a meal together and as we parted he said “See you soon, counsellor” but we never met again.

Now for Art Blakey. One of my boyhood heroes.

One bank holiday Saturday in the summer of 72 Art B and the Jazz Messengers were en route to Paris and had to change planes at Heathrow. One of the guys ( I think it was Bobby Watson - I hope he will forgive me if I’m wrong) and the band manager/roadie were stopped by the police and found to have small quantities of “substances”.  Small enough to be consistent with their story that it was only for personal use. They were arrested and banged up until Tuesday.

 All they knew to do was to call the club and Ronnie called me and I went to the magistrates’ court on the Tuesday where they were given a token penalty and told not to be silly again. They shot off to Paris in time for their gig. For reasons of goodwill I did not charge for my services.

Several weeks later I discovered that Art had docked their wages $2000 “for what I had to pay that attorney in London” he had told them. My idol had feet of clay ! 

*[Wally demurely supplied asterisks in this quote. Musings on this page are by convention unedited so I have filled in the blanks –Ed]