I went into San Francisco Thursday night to a really lovely intimate spot, called Zingari. It's a wonderful Italian restaurant with a separate jazz lounge that is part of the Hotel Donatello, near
San Francisco's Union Square. I first discovered it several years ago when my dear friend, Sony Holland, who rivals the best of the best jazz greats, used to sing there. Sony, sadly for me, is now in Los Angeles. I went back to Zingari to hear Shota Osabe, my favorite jazz pianist, who has also become a friend. He plays for a number of vocalists in the Bay area and does arrangements for various artists as well. He is truly incredible! Thursday night, the singer was Anne O'Brien. I had not heard her perform before but I enjoyed her selections from the Great American Songbook and her lovely voice.
For once the small room was quite crowded. At a table near me, there was a group of six women, laughing and clearly having a wonderful time. I walked in while the band was on break and immediately went and put ten dollars in the tip jar on the piano. One of the ladies at the table commented, "That's generous, you haven't heard them." I laughed and told them I knew the piano player, at least, would be outstanding. I stopped to chat with the women and found out that they were nurses ( of course, that explained the rowdiness! ) and they were from Montana, attending a conference in our fair city. They were delighted to escape the cold for a few days!
When the band returned, Anne tried to come up with a Montana song but had to settle for something with a Western flavor.
During the course of the evening, I met Anne O'Brien and chatted with her a bit. She is such a lovely lady. While they waited for their dinner, always included with their gig, Shota played solo piano for several numbers which is sheer magic. I just sat there, mesmerized. His fingers glide over the keyboard, eliciting melodies that transport me into other worlds, other times.
Mary, the bartender, at Zingari, is a lovely young lady, always pleasant and smiling. Of course, it is nice to have a job where there is great jazz almost every night! That would make me pretty happy, too. At the end of the evening ( the group played till 11PM and, of course, I was the last one there ), Anne announced, they were going to do a song for Mary. Well, when she started singing, I sat bolt upright, my heart began pounding and tears welled up in my eyes. In her beautiful clear voice, she began singing, "Scotch and Soda." I was suddenly 19-years-old again and a student nurse back in New Orleans, dancing very close with a young ear, nose and throat resident, the love of my life, in the Attic, a smoky bar, our hangout, in the French Quarter. During his residency, for four years, we came to San Francisco every two weeks for his Navy active duty so this city is filled with memories of him as well. For the next six years, that man was an intimate part of my life and he remained a dear friend until his death three years ago, He was a wonderful doctor and, all of my nursing school classmates who married and remained in New
Orleans, went to him and took their children to him. May he rest in peace.
Click to hear the Kingston Trio sing my snuggly dancing song.
Scotch and Soda
Scotch and soda, mud in your eye.
Baby, do I feel high, oh, me, oh, my.
Do I feel high.
Dry martini, jigger of gin.
Oh, what a spell you've got me in, oh, my.
Do I feel high.
People won't believe me.
They'll think that I'm just braggin'.
But I could feel the way I do and still be on the wagon.
All I need is one of your smiles.
Sunshine of your eyes, oh, me, oh, my.
Do I feel high.
People won't believe me.
They'll think that I'm just braggin'.
But I could feel the way I do and still be on the wagon.
All I need is one of your smiles.
Sunshine of your eyes, oh, me, oh, my.
Do I feel higher than a kite can fly.
Give me lovin', baby. I feel high.
Dave Guard
