Moonkiszt's Reviews > Satchmo: My Life in New Orleans

Reading Louis Armstrong's life story in his own words has been a real treat!

He starts out at his very beginning. . .

(When I was born in 1900, my father Willie Armstrong, and my mother, May Ann - or Mayann as she was called - were living on a little street called James Alley. . . .[which] lies in the very heart of what is called The Battlefield because the toughest characters in town used to live there, and would shoot and fight so much.)

. . .and it is a romp through to the very end. Growing up in New Orleans in a situation where there weren't a lot of resources, and needing to fighting like hell just to stay in place, he wasn't able to spend much time in school. Although a child, needed to help his scattered family, contributing every penny he could earn. It didn't seem to be a likely start for the celebrity he became.

Simply being at the wrong place at the wrong time got him carted off to the Colored Waifs' Home for Boys where his musical interests were noticed by Mr. Davis, a teacher with whom Louis had had a rough start. But in time Mr. Davis passed him a tambourine. . .

"Taking the tambourine, I started to whip it in rhythm with the band. Mr. Davis was so impressed he immediately changed me to the drums. . . .They were playing At the Animals' Ball, a tune that was very popular in those days and which had a break right in the channel. When the break came I made it a real good one and a fly one at that. All the boys yelled "Hooray for Louis Armstrong." Mr. Davis nodded with approval which was all I needed. His approval was all important for any boy who wanted a musical career.

In time Mr. Davis saw the writing on the wall, and handed him a bugle, and eventually the orchestra leader's baton.

Filled with saucy stories of his short service in the military, and then off to the brothels, bars and carnivals of New Orleans as a young man, razors, guns and lost hats abound. He visits family, fights with husbands and takes time to develop his style and dreams. His memories sit in his senses - smells of honeysuckle swinging across his nostrils, the delicious tastes from his mother's cooking, the feel and pain of a piece of slate landing on his head! Reading the heat and big heart of this young man growing into who we all now know as Jazz Music's Stateman was a wonderful way to spend a cold, gray winter in my part of the world.