A From-The-Ground-Up KC Experience

One day ago, I write to a gentleman whose jazz-history website I found – he is a Kansas City dancer, and with only one day's notice, he builds me an entire KC experience. Seriously. He structures a plan, a schedule for my 24-hours in KC. And it's incredible. I can't believe the kindness and enthusiasm he has, that he would go to that kind of trouble for me, who he doesn't know at all. Gosh, gosh, gosh!

George is a sweet local dancer, who is deeply rooted in the KC jazz scene. He picks me up from the train station and promptly carts me over to this local dingy dive bar (I think it may be called Mike's West Side Blues Bar) in which the most thrilling ongoings are occurring. This is the kind of place you enter from the rear. It is a blues jam and all the musicians are truly incredible. The whole thing is just so wow. I have no words. It's getting annoying, these bloggings of mine, where my loss for words is beginning to sound redundant. Anyway, this bar was incredible. The vast talent was so easy to just get totally lost in. Joining us at this place is the dancer at whose home George has arranged for me to stay. Mischa is a super sweet girl who is cute as a button and all-retro, all the time. Also joining us is Patty, a newish dancer and photographer. We have a wonderfully grungy time at this place, listening to talent that rivals the tone of Billie Holiday, Artie Shaw and Django Reinhardt. I drive home with Mischa, and we cruise all the way up State Line Road, which is, in fact, the state line. This is intriguing to me, as I have always imagine state lines as arbitrarily happening in the desert, or forest… not right in the heart of the city. The real intrigue is that it's a residential street, so the neighbor twenty feet away actually lives in another state. It's quite silly to think about.

The following morning, I meet with Patty, another local dancer (and photographer) that George has arranged for me to have as a tour guide. I was sincerely not kidding about his vast planning. Patty and I scoot downtown to join another dancer for lunch in the plaza, which is surprisingly spanish-style, considering KC is still pretty northwards. I can tell Brenna wants to ask me many questions about my trip and dance traveling, but Patty is a chatterbox, while Brenna strikes me as a fairly quiet person. We have a lovely lunch and I feel full of sunshine to spend it in such lovely company, casually, pleasantly (and deliciously!). After lunch, Patty tours me around the city, and strikes a little fear into my heart as her driving seems to be a little scatterbrained. But I have a really sweet time, and I hope she does as well! We get back home right around the supper hour, and George, now free of work, picks me up, and we head out to a sweet little garden nook and eat at surely the yummiest resto in KC- The Bluebird Café. It had a previous life as an old pharmacy, and the remnants of that give me the utter happies… funny little windowed wooden structures.

As this is a non-stop speedomatic trip, George quickly runs me over to 18th and Vine, the ol' classic neighborhood of jazz in KC. It is here where we visit one of our most important stops: the Mutual Musicians Foundation: a tiny little building where every jazz great from the region was registered as a union member from 1928 onward. I am talking about jazz giants like Charlie Parker, Count Basie and Bennie Moten. It is a strange little building with photographs of everyone from that time bunched together on the walls, but without any indication of who was who. It holds great charm, and is powerful to be in this sweet little space that meant so much to so many. The manager tells a story about how in the '80s they had some work done, and a worker was in overnight, working, when there was a crazy, forceful knock on the door. Eventually the worker was persuaded to answer the door and tell the person that the building was closed for renovations, but the man pleaded saying, "I've driven thousands of miles just to play my sax in this building. I've brought my pianist along, please just let me play." How could he refuse? Once those two got jamming, he was glad he hadn't refused, and stayed up all night to listen. It is an inspiration to have that kind of investment in a place rich with history. Plus, they had a duo playing upstairs, so George and I danced a few in this important place, and felt connected to the past in a quiet, groovy way. If you ever go to KC, be sure to go to this place on the weekend, between midnight and 6 am, as they have all night jazz jams, and it sounds incredible. It is unfortunate that the rest of the neighborhood has fallen into such dismal disrepair. So many of the buildings in the area seem to be condemned.

We then rush over to Marty's Blues Café, which is another funny little dive that feels like it's right out of a film set, where we are to meet and enjoy the music of Lonesome Hank and the Heartaches. Which we do. I love the rockabilly twang in their swing, and their pure and true sound. I wish I'd have had time to pick up their album. But George has actually made me KC cds, and I suspect Hank might be on 'em. Gosh, can you believe someone would go to that kind of trouble for someone they knew absolutely nothing of?! I've experienced southern hospitality, and it is a gorgeous treat: you get to be a pampered guest with polite formal goodness. But midwestern hospitality is different in that it is more like you're a family member. Neat, neat, neat. Last, we cruise over to the local DJed dance to shake our thangs just a little before I need to rush to catch my train. I am amazed at doing so much in such a short period. It's more than I have done in some cities where I've been for twice as long. KC treated me so right, and it was entirely thanks to amazing, amazing people.