Email this article | Printer friendly page In Memory of Albert Francis 'Pud' Brown
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New Orleans jazz musician Pud Brown was once telephoned by two of his musician friends from California who asked Pud if he could build them a six foot refrigerator- freezer unit.
Phone to his ear, Pud replied confidently, "I can build anything. What's it for?"
The secret plan, as Pud explained to friend and producer Jon Pult years later, was to steal Walt Disney's cryogenically stored body, put a ransom on it and keep it in hiding in the refrigerator-freezer at Pud's place. When the ransom paid off, the men could gather their riches and retire in style.
Even if the plan had been executed, Pud probably would not have retired. He loved music and played traditional jazz until the day before he died.
He was a short, sprightly man with gray frenzied hair. He called it his "aerial." His face was weathered from the years, but the mischievous sparkle in his eye made him look more like a mad scientist than an aging jazz musician. "That was a mind that never slept," said Tony Green, close friend, artist and fellow musician. "The beauty of Pud was that he was curious about so many things; like a child."
Pud's interest in music, tinkering and alternative medicine was fueled by his father who was a graduate engineer and loved music. His mother was a superb pianist and played the reeds. By the time Pud was five, he was being billed at concerts as the world's youngest saxophone virtuoso. Bill and Jean Coulson of the Mississippi Rag (June 1979) wrote, "By 1924, when it was clear that the five youngsters in the Brown family were good musicians, Mr. Brown gave up his contracting business and rigged up what might have been the world's first motor home. They called it a 'house car'. It was one of father's big contractor trucks, converted for living. It had electric lights, a commode, sink, water tanks, beds and a sewing machine for Mrs. Brown to mend the band members' uniforms. The tall rear panel of the vehicle dropped down to form a stage."
They performed with circuses, tent shows, minstrels, theaters and night clubs in every state, Canada and Mexico, and logged in over 650,000 miles on the house car that had a top speed of 25 miles per hour.
Even in later years after Pud had played with so many greats like Armstrong and Jack Teagarden in Los Angeles, he was most proud of the musicians he had played with on the circus and vaudeville circuits. Pult says, "Pud would remember the name of some trumpet player from Nebraska who was the greatest he'd ever heard. Or say, 'I've played with the greatest musicians in Mexico.' It was the music that was important, not the fame. He was there before videos and CDs. To Pud, the important thing was what you sounded like, not what you looked like."
In 1940, Pud fell in love with a sweet, strong-minded girl named Louise. In '41, Louise was pregnant so they settled down at the Chelsea Hotel in Chicago where they stayed for five years. During this time, Pud played with Lawrence Welk and worked with composer Lou Breeze, to name a few. Pud wrote in his biography, on file at Tulane University's Hogan Jazz Archives, that during this time, he "...played good and loud...would get off the gig, wait for all the people to leave, then play again and fill the joint over and over."
Pud was born in Wilmington, Delaware but his parents originated from Shreveport, Louisiana. In 1945, Pud and Louise moved to Shreveport and opened a motorcycle shop. The motorcycle business was a disaster and Louise encouraged Pud to return to playing music. He worked enough music gigs to get out of debt, and they moved their family to Los Angeles. Pud's bands were hits at places like Sardi's, The Roaring Twenties and the Royal Room in Hollywood for over twenty years. Pud wrote of these times, "Lots of love, (three) planned children."
He returned to Louisiana to play at the Blue Angel on Bourbon Street, and later, the Palm Court which became his home. At the memorial service for Pud held at the Palm Court, Nina Buck, owner of the jazz cafe said, "It was a privilege to have had Pud play here. He's one of the reasons we're so successful.... I look around and there are all the people who worked here before...people who work here now...the room's full, and we all loved Pud. I want to thank him for the music."
Joe Cabral of the Iguanas had just arrived in New Orleans from Colorado when he met Pud at the Palm Court. Cabral was working as a bartender at the cafe when the two sax players became fast friends. "He would come to work walking a little kids' bike. He sat on the seat but didn't use the pedals. He used it because his heart was so bad. The first bicycles in the 1800s were walkers so maybe that's where he got the idea." Cabral went on to say, "He was a very unique player. Real melodic and soulful. He had a funny way of getting this sweet sound."
Years after Louise had died of cancer, Tony Green was playing a gig with Tom McDermott and Pud. He brought his mother, Agnes, who had been widowed some years before, and introduced her to Pud. "Sparks started flying right off the bat," says Green. "By the end of the night, Pud had whisked her off to Mother's for a po-boy sandwich."
Pud took Agnes on tour with him to Japan and Europe, and Agnes painted a watercolor for the cover of his CD, Pud Brown and His New Orleans Jazzmen; Palm Court Strut. Pud's daughter, Sandra, grown now and with children of her own, did the photography. He was a family man. He loved his children, grandchildren and great grandchildren, who affectionately called him "Grand Pud."
"Pud knew a lot about alternative medicine," says Green. When Agnes was diagnosed with cancer, Pud took her to Tijuana, Mexico. "They did treatments with shark cartilage and put her on a strict macrobiotic diet. He was keeping (mom) alive."
He made his own fillings with Bondo. Green remembers one late night when he, Pud and a German dentist they had met at the Palm Court went to the Hummingbird Grill. Pud loved late night restaurants, especially this greasy spoon on St. Charles Avenue. "The neon Hummingbird sign was blinking through the window, and there was Pud, sitting over a huge bowl of chili, showing myself and this real proper German dentist his homemade Bondo fillings. It was too much."
Charlie Lodice, friend and fellow musician, had a story that was read at Pud's memorial service, of Pud's experimentation with a diluted form of horse liniment as a cure for aches and pains. Pud had a stomach ache one day when Lodice was at his house.
"Look now. I'm gonna drink this stuff. It'll be OK, but just in case, pick up the phone," Brown told Lodice. "Now dial nine and one, and keep your finger on the one." A few minutes elapsed. Pud looked up to Lodice who's finger was poised on the one, and said, "Well? How do I look?"
Charlie shrugged and said, "I don't know. OK I guess."
Pud nodded and thoughtfully said, "OK, you can put the phone down now."
Pud's apartments and houses were magical. In his yard on the West Bank were eight cars, three pianos and an old RV. Inside, there was a totem pole, a jukebox, an old Wurlitzer organ, a pinball machine and more.
"Walking into Pud's apartment was like a scene from Raiders of the Lost Ark," remembers Johnny Donnels, whose famous photography studio sits next door to Pud's St. Peter street apartment in the French Quarter. "There's a scene where they look down into a pit, shine a light on the hole and find it filled with millions of snakes. Except in Pud's apartment, it wasn't snakes on the floor. It was hundreds of instruments. It was all you could do to step over them all."
Pud was devoted to passing the music on to children. He participated in the Louisiana Jazz Federation's program in which local jazz musicians travel to schools in the state to play for and expose children to the jazz traditions. Sue Hall, his manager at the time of his death said, "I'm a school teacher. Pud would fix instruments for the kids for free. 'Make sure you tell those kids not to throw away their instruments if they are broken. They can be fixed,' he would tell me."
Pud will be remembered for his sweet, child-like exuberance and curiosity, for the music he gave us for almost a century and for all the stories he told and was a part of. As his granddaughter, Shannon Wallace, said at the memorial service, "I always thought he'd be around forever."
We did too. Godspeed Pud.
Before he died, Pud requested that his ashes be put in his tenor saxophone and the horn sealed. He is survived by son John Brown; a daughter, Sandra Wallace; a sister, Verna Gorman; a brother, Martin Lawrence Buster Brown; five grandchildren; and two great grandchildren.
Suggested discography:
* Pud Brown and His New Orleans Jazzmen; Palm Court Strut
* Pud Brown Plays Clarinet
* The New Orleans Jazz Wizards; Jambalaya
For a complete catalogue of all Jazzology and GHB albums, write to:
Jazzology Records
1206 Decatur St.
New Orleans, LA
70116
The Louisiana Music Collective
Authentic New Orleans and Louisiana roots music resources.
