Excitement is a major factor in jazz and there was scarcely anyone who was as exciting as Lionel Hampton. His small band recording in the 1930s and early 1940s are among the best of their sort. In later years his live performances and many of his recordings were legendary. Even as he became hobbled with age, he was able to generate excitement once he got behind his vibes. There was, of course, another side to Hampton; he was also a rascal and the stories about his faulty memory and peculiar business activities are legendary.

I was aware of some of these short-comings and had long avoided working with him until 1990 when I produced an album with his old high school classmate, Milt Hinton. Milt wanted Hampton on his recording, made all the arrangements and assured me he could keep him under control. The recording went well and at some point Milt suggested I should ask Hampton to be a featured performer at that year’s Floating Jazz Festival. Milt said there would be no problems and besides, he’d be on board to be helpful.

We worked it out and Hampton agreed to come on board with a large ensemble but insisted we dedicate the festival to him. We did this, but imagine our surprise when he showed up to board the ship with a couple of sidemen and announced he’d pick up the other musicians he might need to round out his group on the ship. He needed to find at least a dozen more and I knew we’d been snookered. 

Hampton had the cabin across the hall and invited me to come visit after we set sail. I noticed he had a large Bible next to his, by large, I mean it was about the size of second base. I don’t know whether he read it or not but my guess is he passed over the Thou shall not steal and will pay your sidemen a living wage section.

Somehow Hampton managed. Al Grey’s entire band was loaned to him, as was Jon Faddis, just to be nice since Jon rememeberd when he’d played in his band as a youngster. I look at the faces in the band twenty years later and don’t recognize most of them. Some of the players were probably from the compliment of musicians who were always on board the S/S Norway in those years, men and women who were used to playing ship shows. 

There was no time for rehearsal and it was a pretty ragged performance; certainly not what I expected would be presented by this legendary musician. He was 82 at the time and could have probably delivered the goods if he had a properly rehearsed band.  About the only thing he didn’t do wrong was fall overboard and even passed on performing with Red Norvo, Terry Gibbs and Gary Burton, who were also on board. Hampton continued to perform until the late 1990s, even after he was sidelined by a stroke in 1991 and I actually saw an outdoor performance at Lincoln Center in those years. It was very peculiar. None of it worked out very well for him in his later years.

I was not in much of a position to take photographs before or after the concert. Putting together a big band on the fly is complicated, particularly when the leader was asking everyone to play for free, simply as a favor to him. I was very busy, but managed to take a few pictures during the performance because by that time there was nothing else I could do. A few of them came out and this one is perhaps the best.

Lionel Hampton, Saga Theater, at sea aboard the S/S Norway, October 23, 1990