Bathtub Bass, the rest of the story and paper floor update

Thea and G'pa's flute and bass jam

Remember that bass in my bathtub? It's finally gone. We sold it when we were in Portland this fall. With all that was going on with my granddaughter, I forgot to mention it  She's doing better now, btw. She's living at her mom's, has a new boyfriend and a job so we are keeping a good thought from here in the background. Growing up is hard and, I didn't realize it then but, oh man, the 20s suck!

Thea examining bass before sale

So, back to the bass. We sold it to a guy named Pete in Portland, Pete of Pete's Upright Bass Shop on S.E. Boise Street. Pete was the perfect guy to buy bass. We couldn't be happier. He's a musician in the full sense of the word. Music, and in particular the bass, is his love and way of life. So this is the end of long journey for the bass. M. Lee's dad bought it in Portland. We inherited it when he bought a smaller one and, after a couple of unsuccessful attempts to find a buyer, it lived in our bathtub for a number of years. Finally, and to our great relief, it's time in the desert has come to an end.

Testing testing testing

As for Project Paper Floor. It's going just fine, punctuated by occasional moments of, how do I say, great uncertainty. After all, he's not just slapping down tile or rolling out linoleum. Doing a paper floor is more like doing a life-size art installation. There is only so much anyone can read and trust me, M. Lee has read it all, before one has to take the inevitable leap off the cliff. Of course, he did a lot of tests first on plywood scraps to figure a few things out, proportions, which color paper to use, methods for applying the glue, whether or not to crumple the paper before dipping it in glue or just dip it. He pre-crumples.

The test case was our bathroom. It's the smallest room in the house but turned out to be the hardest due to all the angles. But it's done, including the 12 coats of polyurethane. It looks fantastic. Now he's working on the rest of the bathroom, bedroom and closet. So far so good. It's papered but not without some redoing to break up a couple of seams that developed due to laying paper on two separate days. That took some juggling but he fixed it. Today he'll polyurethane that, beginning with the closet where he'll experiment with using the roller. Applying 12 coats of urethane throughout the entire house with a paint bursh is just not something one does unless one has to. But hey. No matter what, the fucking carpet is gone! Okay. Gotta go. I'm mired in a solstice/xmas card project that I made waaaaaaaaay too complicated. I'm even making the envelopes. Madness! But they must go out today.

First room done and beautiful

Bass in the bathtub updade

The bass speaks

The bass is out of the bathtub. The other day we had a buyer. It was love a first sight. He bought it, half up front and years to pay, no interest, but when he got it home he freaked out. He plays for the Reno Philharmonic and it turned out that it wasn't as loud as his current bass, which was a deciding factor. Plus, I think he decided that he couldn't afford it. The poor guy recently moved to a double wide in the valley after his divorce. His wife got the house in Tahoe. As he put it, she got the gold, he got the shaft. Anyway, of course we refunded his dough but crap. But now that the fiddle is out of the tub, neither of us have the heart to put it there again. It just seems wrong. It has such a heartbreakingly beautiful sound. Now we have to find it a home. We were going to take it to LA as Bonhams and Butterfields will be there doing appraisals next month, but decided against it. We wouldn't do a consignment with them anyway. Brad (the musician) gave us a San Francisco contact who seems better suited to our needs. At this point, we are not sure what to ask for it, eight to ten thousand was always the upper end. You know how these things are. You get what you pay for but you also only get what people are willing to pay. Either way, it is a beautiful instrument, perhaps as much as two hundred years old, solid, hand-crafted wood and in great shape, but Lee's x-dirty beatnik bebop bass player dad, heavily modified the neck. It is ... at this point in it's star-crossed life, after 50 years in someone's basement, or was that good fortune? ... a jazz bass. Want to buy a great bass? We will make you a sweeeeeeet deal.

Bathtub bass

There's a bass fiddle in my bathtub...
It used to belong to Lee's old bebop beatnik dad. He gave it to us a couple of years ago, keep or sell, after replacing it with a smaller, Chinese bass, easier to play given his advanced arthritis. We took it to LA and got it appraised. That's it. It's been in the bathtub ever since. I tried to interest Roy in buying it the other day. He just purchased a lovely fender deluxe and thought he might like a mellow, old, hand-made German bass to go along with it but he claims he's "lookin' to start smaller -- maybe a fiddle in a sink. Or castanets in a teacup." I wish someone would buy the damn thing. I want to take a bath. Let me know if you're interested. We'll make you a helluva deal. Otherwise I suppose I could try Craig's List.

As for the rain, the icons lied. Second day, nice steely gray sky but not a drop.

Jim

"How strange a vehicle it is, coming down unchanged from times of old romance, and so characteristically black, the way no other thing is black except a coffin—a vehicle evoking lawless adventures in the plashing stillness of night, and still more strongly evoking death itself, the bier, the dark obsequies, the last silent journey!" -Thomas Mann

M. Lee's Dad passed away two days before Christmas.
At his Mom's request we disassembled his music room.
Gig over. It was a bleak obsequy.

At twelve, Jim played bass in the Chicago Symphony.
At fifteen, and well on his way to 6'9", he played
professionally in Chicago clubs but from
behind a curtain because he was white.

In his early twenties he moved to San Francisco
and caught the end of the 50s North Beach Bebop scene.

Elvis wanted Jim to join him. So did the Jefferson Airplane.
He refused. He was a purist.

He left the Baby Grand to Nolan,
his piano player for the last forty years.

WINTER
for Joe & Jim

In the evening we
carry down our dead
they leave our hands willingly
above Dog Star watches
cold, white
as on ancient evenings,
Dog Star
bringer of rain.

excerpt from Dead Reckoning by asha

Christmas cheer

Mr. Lee emailed me this fine bit of Christmas cheer to help kick off The Season. It's a little clip from Space Bass Films.

Santa

Meet Beat Baby

Back in the day, Mr. Lee's Dad was a "dirty beatnik". That was in San Francisco's North Beach in the '50s but he wasn't born on the west coast. He grew up in Chicago and started out playing in the Chicago Symphony but quickly discovered the jazz scene and started playing bass on the side in hardcore jazz clubs around town. This is odd for a couple of reasons...

1) He was a teenager

2) ...and a white guy.

But he was a musical prodigy so the band had him play from behind the curtain so the audience couldn't see he was a white guy.

Jim is a giant who, by the age of twelve, was over six feet tall, dressed (with money he made gigging) in pimped-out, hand-tailored silk suits, wore fine fedoras, and sported a mustache.


When he arrived in San Francisco he grew a beard and became part of the North Beach hard bop scene. Hence Mr. Lee, being one of the only babies to make the scene, is Beat Baby.

Sometimes during our off-road rambles through remote places, Mr. Lee tells me odd little stories about his childhood in San Francisco. I named him Beat Baby and decided that he should have his own comic strip but the idea never made it off the page. Today however, grounded because of the knee surgery, I started thumbing through an old notebook and found those first drafts so, rough though they be, I'm posting them here for your entertainment. I've also decided to create a page for Beat Baby on the ashabot in case I want to do more. I like him. He's a simple little fellow. I hope you will like him too.





comics humor daily life beat

LA, tar pits and all

We're back from LA after dashing down there over the weekend. I knew we were going just not when. Lee needed to pick up the bass but he wanted to get a room through Priceline. In the summer the hotels are inclined to wait until the last minute to make them available. Anyway, we made a trip out of it and had a great time. We walked the beach for miles, visited tar pits filled with fossils from the last Ice Age, hiked in the mountains, caught a street filming of a movie, ate dinner in an Indian grocery store, saw some really interesting work by artist Tim Hawkinson, and a few floor sweepings by Rembrandt all without ever leaving the city limits. I took lots of photos (naturally) but it's 1 am so that will have to wait until later.