Henry
This is Henry Young.
I cannot say exactly how far back our friendship goes, but I think I was about fifteen when we first really connected. Henry and his wife, Yvonne, are two of my dearest, oldest friends.
Henry worked with Nina Simone for about twenty years. He also worked closely with Almeta Speaks and with me. Henry wrote charts, loved to connect, and worked hard in his own way. He built open arrangements, memorized them, and years later, if you sat in with him, he could conduct the band on the spot, in the correct key and arrangement, like it was nothing. Nina, Almeta, and I all preferred open spaces in the arrangements to play with, and Henry loved that freedom, and the connection it created. He did not just back us as singers, he backed us as friends, onstage and off.
When I lived near Main Street, I was on the edge of dead broke more times than I want to admit. It was Henry who would get me gigs here and there to keep me afloat. One time he drove me home and stopped at his place for a minute. He ran inside, came back out, put something in his trunk, then drove me home and walked me to the door. I did not realize until he left that he had brought me two full bags of groceries. He did that twice.
One night I was singing in a noisy restaurant, the New York Cafe. There were two very loaded women right up front. One of them started singing the lyrics to my song, not with me, but ahead of me. The first time, Henry just gave her a look. The second time, he stopped playing, put down his guitar, walked right over, and said something to them. He came back and I asked what happened. Henry said, “Don’t worry about it, I just told them what will happen if they say anything more.” Then we watched them get up and leave.
Another night, we were playing the Red Barrel in the Vancouver Hotel. The room was downstairs, and at the top of the stairs there was a sandwich board that said “The Red Barrel,” with a drawing of a trumpet and the word “jazz” underneath. We were in our first set when a very inebriated man stood up and yelled, “This isn’t jazz. Where’s the trumpet man?” Without missing a beat, Henry said, “Sit down, sir. We’ve all seen your suit.” I still cannot get over that. I loved it.
One time we were working at the hotel again, and the parking lot gate arm would open a little, then close. Henry had paid, but the gate did not work. After several tries, he got so mad that he jumped out of the car, ripped the gate arm right off the wall, threw it on the ground, and we drove into the lot and parked. I was in shock, then laughing, because of course it was Henry.
Another time, we were working in Gastown at Lucy’s, one of my top three places to work. Lucy’s was in Blood Alley, and you had to go upstairs to get inside. After the gig, Henry kindly drove me home. He drove a Mini, I think, and he had his gear in the back. He was parked near the entrance of the alley, by the John Fluevog shoe store. We got in, Henry started the car, and we were only a few feet from the alley exit when he stopped, because a sailor in a little sailor suit staggered across in front of us.
The sailor stopped, looked at the Mini, then suddenly climbed onto the fender and hood and started bouncing the car. Henry had on a leather jacket with the collar turned up, and he launched out of the car like a wildcat. The two of them started fighting, moving right in front of the shoe store. Henry threw a punch with his whole body behind it, and they crashed through the store window. Henry landed on top of the guy. The guy was out cold, but okay, and Henry’s hand was bleeding badly.
Henry yelled at me to get back to the club. He re-parked the car, then came back inside. We heard sirens, and Dale Jacobs said he would take Henry to the hospital out the front. Henry told me to call Yvonne and say he would be late, and not to tell her he was hurt. So I called and said, “Hi, it’s Joani, and Henry…” Henry grabbed the phone out of my hand and said, “I’ve been in a fight and I’m bleeding bad. We’re going to the hospital.” I nearly died laughing. So much for “don’t tell her what happened.”
Henry is amazing. He is also a great cook. I love Henry Young.
