A moment from the Count Basie Memoir Project
A hotel on the road with Basie.
Through a connecting door, I could hear him breathing while he slept. It wasn’t a performance night, but travel days wore him out in their own way. I was glad he had been able to get to bed early.
The room was quiet. Then I noticed something different in his breathing.
There was a shudder in the pattern.
I went into his room, turned on the nightstand lamp, and picked up the telephone. I pressed zero.
When the operator answered, I asked for a long-distance call to Freeport.
“Freeport, Long Island?”
“Yes.”
In that moment, I was no longer simply traveling with Count Basie. I was watching over someone whose presence had been woven into my life for as long as I could remember.
There is a particular kind of intimacy that comes with being trusted to care for someone who has spent a lifetime caring for others. It changes the relationship, sometimes so gradually that you don’t recognize the change until a moment makes it impossible to ignore.
This is one of the stories I am beginning to share through the Count Basie Memoir Project—a personal account of the life I experienced with Count and Catherine Basie, told from the perspective of someone who knew them beyond the public spotlight.
The music made Count Basie famous. The life behind the music is another story.
And this is where I begin.










