Jackson Street After Hours. The Roots of Jazz in Seattle

In jazz, as in so many arts, journeymen (and journeywomen) gravitate toward Manhattan, the proving ground and graveyard of the music world. But most of them get their start in local scenes, which tend to remain undocumented along with the players who populate them. In Jackson Street After Hours, Paul de Barros takes a meticulous, affectionate look at one such scene that thrived in Seattle during the 1940s and 1950s. Part of the fun comes from seeing legends--say, Ray Charles or Quincy Jones--in their pre-legendary state, scrapping for a decent gig. But even better are the oral history bits, like the one in which Ernestine Anderson discovers her true vocation: "When I went to audition at the Eldorado Ballroom, the piano player asked me what key did I do these two songs that I knew in. I automatically said C. It turned out to be the wrong key. So I improvised around the melody, because my grandmother had told me that if I wanted to be a professional singer, once you start singing, you don't stop. When I finished, one of the musicians told me I was a jazz singer."