Strange moment of the day, first a bit of background. So the year is 1985-86. I was 21 and had travelled West to Vancouver and then South down the West coast of America. My idea was to make photos of what I found, it was about 7-8 month trip, 6 of those months in the USA.
When I made it to San Francisco I happened upon a African American man playing a trumpet for quarters and dimes in Chinatown, his name was Dupree Bolton. Over time Dupree and I became friends of a sort and he introduced me to some of his other friends in a ghetto area of West Oakland across the bay from Frisco. I stayed with my new friends for many months, 3 or so, sleeping in an abandoned Jazz club where I had a small darkroom set up in the tiny washroom
That period in my life changed my future. Being a white Canadian boy with very limited experience, living in a black ghetto was a rather eye opening experience. Most of the men I met there were older. They were ex boxers, ex football players, jazz people, ex convicts (San Quentin Prison). They taught me so much. I left Oakland a better person than when I arrived.
Now the rest of the story. It turns out Dupree was in his way "a trumpet genius". Another mysterious person in Jazz history who lost his soul to the demons of heroin.
Today I was contacted by a writer Richard W from London, England. He is a former writer for the Times and Guardian news papers. Richard is writing a book and wants to do an interview about Dupree. He is also asking about some bad photos I took at that time. The writer will telephone tomorrow.
Strange how life comes full circle. My 57 year old self will try to remember back to when I was 21 and hanging with Dupree.
Here is Dupree playing on TV years before I knew him.
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| Dupree, what he looked like when I knew him, photo by unknown photographer |
