1/7/09 It's time to take a look at what's 'in' and what's 'out for 2009
Signs of Hamtramck's trying times
By Charles Sercombe
Carlow’s music store on Caniff has been closed for two years now.
Alfred “Al” Carlow died May 31, 2006 at the ripe age of 82. He was still repairing instruments in that dusty old store up until the day he died.
Al led quite a life.
He not only worked with some of the great music legends, he actually met and fixed the horn used by the 20th Century’s Music God, Louis Armstrong. It gives me chills just thinking about that.
I met Al several times during the course of my work here at The Citizen. I eventually did a feature story on him but I can’t find it. Dang, because he had some good quotes. But I remember a few stories he had about meeting with and playing with various musicians, a veritable who’s who in jazz.
Before I continue, the reason I’m writing about Al is that someone bought his old store and recently started cleaning it out. The new owner, who also knew Al, doesn’t know what he will do with the building. I wish him well.
But I miss the days when Al held court. He could be a little crusty around the edges and maybe a little short-tempered, but on a good day he was fascinating to listen to. Plus, I loved the smells of the old instruments and the glues and varnishes of his work studio in the back of the store.
I call it a store, but I’m not sure if he had sold anything in the last dozen years or so that he was in business. Most of his work was repairing instruments. Sometimes I wish I had asked to come on as an unpaid apprentice and learned a trade that few now take up.
His career started in the 1940s when he worked downtown at the Conn Music factory. It is sad to realize that Detroit once had a music factory. Jeez, what happened to our manufacturing base around here? Every thing is gone, long gone.
Back to Al. He eventually opened his own store here in Hamtramck. Sometime in the mid-1960s, Al was in a car accident and was forever confined to a wheelchair. Although his handicap didn’t’ slow his work down, I always had the feeling he was in discomfort but didn’t want to complain about it.
Sometimes I would go into the store without an intention of buying anything. Since I played drums I loved looking at the two or three old sets he kept on display. I really wanted them, but Al knew the value of vintage drums and wasn’t going to sell them cheap.
But through talking over the years I got to hear some great tales of the musicians he would back up when they blew through Detroit for a gig and needed to pickup some extra players. Al played saxophone for drummers Gene Krupa and Buddy Rich, two of my many favorite drummers, Gene Krupa especially.
The one story that sticks in my memory is how nasty and foul-mouthed Buddy Rich was. Actually, Buddy Rich’s temper is well known in the entertainment world. He was known for insulting fellow musicians and people he ran into in nightclubs and bars and would often end up in a fight. Story goes that because Buddy was short and picked on guys much larger than he was, he decided to learn karate so he could defend himself and presumably win some of the fights.
The only quote I have from Al is from what Citizen writer Walter Wasacz used in putting together Al’s obituary. Al traveled with the USO during World War II and would perform before German and Italian prisoners of war. Boy, we have come a long way from the days when we would treat prisoners that well.
At any rate, it turned out the USO had a great affect on the prisoners, according to the quote from Al.
“I think they appreciated American music, and it made some of them want to become U.S. citizens, I’m proud to say.”
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I don’t mean to get political here, but maybe a little more music and lot less torture could go along way to winning over enemies. I know, that’s naive at best.
Besides touring the world, Al played in theater orchestras, various jazz combos and was once part of nine-piece jazz band that played at Pistons’ games when the team still played at Cobo Hall.
Jeez, those old times sound like a lot of fun.
Soon, the front sign at Carlow’s will come down and whatever trace of Al’s legacy that remained will be gone forever. The store’s closing reminds me of the rich history of Hamtramck and how lucky I have been to meet some of the more colorful characters, Al included.
Carlow’s music store on Caniff has been closed for two years now.
Alfred “Al” Carlow died May 31, 2006 at the ripe age of 82. He was still repairing instruments in that dusty old store up until the day he died.
Al led quite a life.
He not only worked with some of the great music legends, he actually met and fixed the horn used by the 20th Century’s Music God, Louis Armstrong. It gives me chills just thinking about that.
I met Al several times during the course of my work here at The Citizen. I eventually did a feature story on him but I can’t find it. Dang, because he had some good quotes. But I remember a few stories he had about meeting with and playing with various musicians, a veritable who’s who in jazz.
Before I continue, the reason I’m writing about Al is that someone bought his old store and recently started cleaning it out. The new owner, who also knew Al, doesn’t know what he will do with the building. I wish him well.
But I miss the days when Al held court. He could be a little crusty around the edges and maybe a little short-tempered, but on a good day he was fascinating to listen to. Plus, I loved the smells of the old instruments and the glues and varnishes of his work studio in the back of the store.
I call it a store, but I’m not sure if he had sold anything in the last dozen years or so that he was in business. Most of his work was repairing instruments. Sometimes I wish I had asked to come on as an unpaid apprentice and learned a trade that few now take up.
His career started in the 1940s when he worked downtown at the Conn Music factory. It is sad to realize that Detroit once had a music factory. Jeez, what happened to our manufacturing base around here? Every thing is gone, long gone.
Back to Al. He eventually opened his own store here in Hamtramck. Sometime in the mid-1960s, Al was in a car accident and was forever confined to a wheelchair. Although his handicap didn’t’ slow his work down, I always had the feeling he was in discomfort but didn’t want to complain about it.
Sometimes I would go into the store without an intention of buying anything. Since I played drums I loved looking at the two or three old sets he kept on display. I really wanted them, but Al knew the value of vintage drums and wasn’t going to sell them cheap.
But through talking over the years I got to hear some great tales of the musicians he would back up when they blew through Detroit for a gig and needed to pickup some extra players. Al played saxophone for drummers Gene Krupa and Buddy Rich, two of my many favorite drummers, Gene Krupa especially.
The one story that sticks in my memory is how nasty and foul-mouthed Buddy Rich was. Actually, Buddy Rich’s temper is well known in the entertainment world. He was known for insulting fellow musicians and people he ran into in nightclubs and bars and would often end up in a fight. Story goes that because Buddy was short and picked on guys much larger than he was, he decided to learn karate so he could defend himself and presumably win some of the fights.
The only quote I have from Al is from what Citizen writer Walter Wasacz used in putting together Al’s obituary. Al traveled with the USO during World War II and would perform before German and Italian prisoners of war. Boy, we have come a long way from the days when we would treat prisoners that well.
At any rate, it turned out the USO had a great affect on the prisoners, according to the quote from Al.
“I think they appreciated American music, and it made some of them want to become U.S. citizens, I’m proud to say.”
.jpg)
I don’t mean to get political here, but maybe a little more music and lot less torture could go along way to winning over enemies. I know, that’s naive at best.
Besides touring the world, Al played in theater orchestras, various jazz combos and was once part of nine-piece jazz band that played at Pistons’ games when the team still played at Cobo Hall.
Jeez, those old times sound like a lot of fun.
Soon, the front sign at Carlow’s will come down and whatever trace of Al’s legacy that remained will be gone forever. The store’s closing reminds me of the rich history of Hamtramck and how lucky I have been to meet some of the more colorful characters, Al included.
Insunate prefrerential treatment much?
