I met Buddy Tate in late 1972 when he was at my studio as part of John Jeremy’s Born To Swing project. I’d never heard him live and was very impressed. He seemed to have wonderful ideas and we began to talk about a project that might feature him as a leader. He hadn’t recorded for a US label in a dozen years and it seemed clear to me that if Buddy was the leader on a project, he could make a call to people who would ignore me if I telephoned. Chiaroscuro was still a rinky-dink label with twenty releases and I’d never recorded anything larger than a quintet.

I knew I could afford about $2500 because I had a tax refund check in that amount. Everyone in the band we envisioned was to receive union scale, $270 per person, double for Buddy because he was the leader. Buck Clayton and Mary Lou Williams were paid $130 for their arrangements. Buddy’s arrangements were part of his leader’s fee. I was right about Buddy making calls; I could have never convinced Roy Eldridge or Illinois Jacquet to appear for $270. They did it for Buddy, to get his name on the front of an album, and they did it for scale and received no more than did Steve Jordan, Gus Johnson or Milt Hinton.

It was an impressive band and they made an impressive record. It was the only time these eight remarkable musicians ever came together in a recording studio or under any other circumstance, and each was spectacular in their own way. Buck’s piece was the swinger; Mary’s was the most musically complex; Buddy’s two were the grooviest and the head arrangement on Sunday was the one that allowed everyone to just take off, particularly Roy Eldridge.

There was only one tragedy; the band was supposed to be an octet. All the arrangements had a part for a trombone, in this case, Dicky Wells. When Dicky arrived nothing seemed wrong, but once the music began it was clear he’d had once drink too many. He couldn’t fake it and the first take was terrible. I was still as much a fan as I was a record producer and I pulled Buddy aside and told him I couldn’t send Dicky home, that he’d have to take care of it, which he did. We lost an hour and a trombone, but the record turned out well.

I had my Rollieflex set up to take a group shot. I didn’t have enough room for eight people. I never photographed so many people at one time in my modest photography studio, so the people are a little cramped and some arms are cut off on the sides. Still, it was a historic gathering and at least all the faces are there. I wonder what I’d have done if Dicky had been sober?