Mick Carlon - Riding on Dukes Train

A LeapKids Book

Leapfrog Kids
Leapfrog Press
Teaticket, Massachusetts

Riding on Dukes Train 2012 by Mick Carlon

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American

Copyright Conventions

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a data base or other retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, by any means, including mechanical, electronic, photocopy, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

A LeapKids Book

Leapfrog Kids

Published in 2012 in the United States by

Leapfrog Press LLC

PO Box 2110

Teaticket, MA 02536

www.leapfrogpress.com

Distributed in the United States by

Consortium Book Sales and Distribution

St. Paul, Minnesota 55114

www.cbsd.com

First Edition

ISBN:

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

To my parents, George and Peggy Carlon

For the itinerary of the 1939 European tour, the author is indebted to John Edward Hasses superb biography Beyond Category: The Life and Genius of Duke Ellington (Da Capo Press, 1993).

So there I was in old Paris, gazing over the gypsys glowing crystal ball with Rex.

What do you see, Madame? Rex asked her, shooting me a wink.

The wrinkly woman looked up. Do you like hamburgers? she asked.

Rex chuckled. Well, surewho doesnt?

Two bloodshot eyes lingered first on me, then on Rex. I could feel the tingles zig-zagging up my spine.

Dont, she said. That will be ten francs.

Can you believe that old crow? chuckled Rex, as we stepped back onto the rue de lHarpe. I easily kept up with my chubby yet fleet friend.

Man, she had eyes like an angry old muskrats, I said.

It was April, 1939, and Rex and Ialong with the rest of the Duke Ellington Orchestrahad been in Paris a week. For me, an eleven-year-old boy from the back woods of Georgia, the trip had been one wonder after another.

Your bellys not that big, Rex, I said, trying to find some explanation for the old gypsys words.

Checking out his round reflection in a bakery window, Rex frowned. Cooties got a bigger gut than meand Sonny out-eats us both. Anyways, Im hungrylets find a caf.

The afternoon was cool and breezy, with plump blimpy clouds floating over the city. Finding a caf on the Boulevard St. Michel, we were soon both diving into bowls of onion soup and frothy mugs of caf au lait.

Beats chitlins, doesnt it? I asked.

Actually, Daniel, Im partial to Southern cooking, said Rex, who talked like a professor, read four or five books at once, and was constantly jotting down his impressions of the world in a calf-skin journal. (Not to mention playing one of the most supple, lyrical cornets in all of jazz). A few stray crumbs fell onto his shirt. Remember, both Duke and I hail from Washington, which is decidedly a Southern town.

Did you know him when you were my age? I asked.

Two lovely French gals smiled at Rex as they sauntered by. Tipping his hat, he smiled backan action that could get a black man lynched back home in Georgia. I was liking Paris more all the time.

Remember, lad, Im eight years younger than the Govnorwith a few less bags beneath my eyes. But one broiling summer day when I was a wee lad, I dove into the deep end of the YMCA poolwhere I had no business being, seeing that I couldnt swim. Man, everybody was having so much fun that they didnt notice little old me going down for the last time. But then Dukehis pals called him that even back thendove in and yanked me up to the fresh air. Now, he swears he doesnt recall that daybut I sure do! And that was my introduction to Edward Kennedy Ellington. Hey, speaking of the man, we have a rehearsal in about thirty minutes. Lets scarf down this chow, Daniel, and scram.

I figure nows a fine time to tell you about my introduction to Edward Kennedy Ellington. I dont quite believe the details of this tale myself, so if youre a bit disbelieving, I cant say that I blame you.

Now please dont bother feeling all weepy for me (because I have no memory of it), but when I was ten months old my folks died in a car wreck in Tennessee. I was asleep in the back seat and stayed in the car, but my mom and pop were thrown through the windshield and died. The drunken white man who plowed his truck into our Tin Lizzy never spent a day in jail either.

My pops mom grabbed a train to rescue me from the orphanage. Turned out that old Pop had purchased a healthy life insurance policy so Granny and I lived snug and comfortable in her rented cottage in the woods outside of Helen, Georgia.

One afternoon in late May of 1937, I walked home from school to find old Granny dead in her rocker on the front porch. Her eyes were wide open and she was smiling, so I figured her end hadnt been too tough to take. Naturally, I was sadbut old Granny had been reminding me that this day was coming for years, so I wasnt too surprised.

After burying her in the woods behind the cottage, I grabbed a gunny sack and threw in some clothes and all the cash money Granny kept in her strong box beneath her bed. Then, after locking up our old cottage good and tight, I hit the road.

A Georgia dusk in May can snatch your breath away, with the sky as red as the clay beneath your feet. I walked for hours, not seeing a soul, hearing only the insects and the owls. A crater-filled moon lit my way.

Are you up there, Granny? I thought to myselfbut if she was, she wasnt letting on.

Near midnight I came to a clearingand rightly gasped. For before me stood a sleek silver traina silver engine pulling four silver cars, each one soaking up and shooting out all that moonlight.

Shoo, now! Get going! yelled the conductor to a mother cow and her calf who had decided that the tracks were a fine place to spend the night.

Hidden in the shadows, I noticed that one of the trains car doors was ajar. Hmm, I thought to myself. This train is headed Norththe same direction Im headed. Why dont I just hitch myself a ride?

Making a dash for it (Im rather speedy), I hoisted myself up and into the train, gently sliding the heavy door closed. Absolute blackness. The car smelled of wood and leather and was so cozy that almost as soon as the train began to move, I was asleep.

Now what do we have here? asked a man with a chubby black face. A stowaway?

I was up on my feet in a flash. Im sorry, Mister! I pleaded in my best little-boy-lost voice. I didnt hurt anything. I just needed a place to sleep. Please dont throw me off the train! I added this last bit because I could feel that the train was now zipping along quite quickly.

First off, said the chubby face, no ones going to throw you off anywhere. And secondly, cut the mister jazz and called me by my name: Rex. Whats your name, son?

Danny.

Well, Daniel, Im not going to hurt you, but Rabbit will whup your behind if he catches you near his saxophone.

And thats how I met my pal, Rex.

Since I hadnt eaten in a while, I guess I wobbled a bit.

Are you alright? asked Rex.

Just a little hungry.

Well, come on then! Lets go meet the Duke. Hes eating breakfast right now and if we dont hightail it, there wont be any food left for us!

Figuring that Rex must be the man-servant to some English toff, I said, Can you understand him with the accent and all?

Rex chuckled in that deep-chested way of his. Sure, I can. Being a Washingtonian myself, I can understand the local