Miles Davis funeral (article)

[Eric Majani]

Gabriel: Move over for Miles (10/6/91)
NEW YORK - Until a week ago, the headline horn player in heaven
was named Gabriel.
The Rev. Jesse Jackson says Gabriel is now ``in big trouble.''
At a Saturday memorial service for Miles Davis one week after the
trumpeter's death, Jackson wound up the talent-laden lineup of speakers
and got no argument when he assumed Davis could be the greatest horn
player in this or any other world.
``What should Gabriel do with his horn now that Miles has come to
heaven?'' Jackson asked. ``Gabriel is scheduled to blow his trumpet --
now that Miles is on the scene, there is more than one seat in the
trumpet section.''
Davis revolutionized jazz repeatedly; his innovations included the
cool and fusion periods although he decried labels, and was as brilliant
a composer as performer. He died Sept. 28 at 65 of stroke and
respiratory failure due to pneumonia in Santa Monica, Calif.
``The trumpet died,'' said Thomas Cobb, a Davis admirer and aspiring
musician. ``Right? They should bury the instrument.''
Davis compositions were played intermittently through the service,
which concluded with footage of his last live performance, in July at
the Montreux Jazz Festival in Switzerland.
Throughout, speakers couldn't resist imitating the inimitable and
perpetual raspiness of Davis's speaking voice.
With ``Someday My Prince Will Come'' playing in the background,
Jackson told Davis repeatedly to ``rest, sweet prince.''
Davis worked endlessly at his craft, coldbloodedly at kicking heroin
cold-turkey, passionately for black emergence -- and Jackson recognized
it all. ``God does not make orange juice,'' Jackson said. ``God makes
oranges and we must peel them and squeeze the genius juice out.
``Someday, the song says, our prince will come,'' Jackson said. ``He
made us feel so good, he made us feel so proud. The trumpet was an
extension of his personality. He sounded like he felt and oh, how
complex were his feelings. He was realistic and futuristic ...
disciplined, determined, hard-working, perfectionist, visionary.
``Let this sweet prince rest. Thank God to you for taking us miles
and miles and miles. Rest sweet prince, you have earned your place.''
Jazz luminaries, friends and relatives of Davis at the service
included his close friends and musical colleagues Quincy Jones, Dizzy
Gillespie and Max Roach, entertainer Bill Cosby, protege Herbie Hancock,
jazz festival producer and pianist George Wein, actress and former wife
Cicely Tyson, former wife and dancer Frances Taylor, brother Vernon and
sister Dorothy Davis Wilbur.
Also speaking were New York Mayor David Dinkins and representatives
of the governments of France and Malta, both of which knighted Davis.
They made it clear they represented places which long ago adopted the
Illinois-born Davis as their own.
``Miles Davis led the way to generations of musicians who came to our
city,'' Dinkins said. ``He left (East) St. Louis (Ill.) in 1944. The
elite talent that is Miles Davis is a New York treasure. Whether ... at
Gleason's gym or Sugar Ray Robinson's bar, he made our city his own,''
Dinkins said of the boxing afficionado.
``We welcomed him with open arms.''
The exclusive memorial service was held at St. Peter's Church on 54th
St. -- a jazz church but a far cry from the 52nd street address of clubs
made legendary by the names Davis, Dizzy, Parker, Coltrane et al.
Outside the sanctuary stood floral arrangements with notes from
former heavyweight champion Mike Tyson, entertainers Whitney Houston,
Ashford and Simpson, Carlos Santana, producer George Duke and DefJam
records. One from Playboy was in the shape of a bunny with a tear in its
eye; another had a banner reading ``Dewey, I'll love you forever'' to
Miles Dewey Davis III.
Prince, the rock and funk songwriter who has performed with Davis,
couldn't attend but sent a note.
``I thought I told you to take it easy,'' it read. ``You're still
playing. Warm up the band, one day I'll be there but just take it easy.''
The New York day ranged from steamy to cool and the sentiments from
sassy to melancholy -- fitting for the man who most changed jazz, and
many times over.
Always there was an enduring theme, of love and acceptance for Davis
even as his addictions, health problems, recluse period and five-year
retirement from 1976-81 inevitably were mentioned.
``Miles was truly happy in the end, I thank God for that,'' said
Jones, who wore the oddly-tasselled suit he wore when he last played
with Davis two months ago. ``He probably left the biggest hole we'll
ever know in 20th-century music,'' said Jones, who met Davis in 1951.
Cosby told an unsure audience ``it's okay to clap'' in church --
Jackson later goaded an unrestrained round of applause to Davis.
``He's still playing,'' Cosby said. ``We really don't know him, we
just loved him.''
Cosby then said there was only one way he could characterize the ever
style-conscious Davis: ``No one in the world ever will say that they
spotted Miles Davis at the mall.''
``We're talking about the man who broke rules,'' Cosby said. ``This
is Davis, man. Yeah he's gone, but he warned everybody.''

[John Carey]

I, for one, will remember Miles every morning, when I recall
the line-- "God does not make orange juice!"
--
John Carey
University of Illinois
Dept. of Computer Science
ca...@a.cs.uiuc.edu {uu-net,pur-ee,convex,...}!uiucdcs!carey