A Day in the Life of a Jazz Musician

Each month, we profile one or more Jazz Foundation of America musician clients, in order to give you, our generous supporters, an inside look at the myriad of issues our musician community faces. We are grateful to the musicians who grant us permission to share their story with you.

GT is an 86-year-old jazz guitarist, who was born and raised in the South. He began performing on the West Coast in the late 1950s, while serving in the military, and quickly became immersed in the jazz scene, playing with legends including Charles Mingus and Bud Powell.
Encouraged to move to New York by a mentor, GT established himself in the city through session work, a gig with a prestigious dance group and as an accompanist to high-profile bandleaders. He soon began leading his own ensembles and became a luminary in the world of jazz fusion. He later took a teaching position at a major undergraduate jazz-performance program and gained a reputation as a fine visual artist specializing in abstract painting.

From the time he arrived in NYC in the 1960s until just a couple of years ago, GT was a fixture in the NYC building where he lived — well known to his neighbors for his easygoing, charming and distinguished manner, and reputation as an accomplished jazz musician.
Then, one day, things started to change. Neighbors noticed that his demeanor was different; he was no longer the proud, confident affable man he once was.That’s when a concerned friend contacted the Jazz Foundation asking for our help.

Immediately, the JFA social work team reached out, but GT’s isolated lifestyle made it difficult to make contact. Undeterred, his JFA social worker gently persisted until he finally relented and agreed to meet her. Over the next two years, during which GT was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s, the two developed a deep and meaningful friendship, which included weekly outings to the Jazz Foundation’s “Monday Night Jam.” GT sometimes performed on stage at the sessions and other times was simply content to enjoy the camaraderie of his fellow musicians.

Although his memory was fading, GT never forgot the name of his JFA social worker, and just before he experienced a total mental breakdown, he surprised her with a gift of one of his paintings, which he had wrapped up and inscribed with a beautiful and personal message.

Then, just days later, in the middle of the night, she received a frantic phone call from a neighbor letting her know that GT had been found roaming the hallways, did not know his name, was highly agitated and was being taken away by an ambulance.
With great effort, the Jazz Foundation was able to locate the psychiatric facility where he had been taken. He had no family of his own to advocate for him, and the Jazz Foundation advocated tirelessly for his well-being — reaching out to nearly 50 facilities in the hopes that one would accept him as he no longer had a home to return to after 60 years, being deemed a security risk to himself and others.

Following his initial hospital stay, GT was transferred to various VA hospitals, sometimes being moved in the middle of the night without warning. Understandably, GT was becoming increasingly upset, confused and saddened by the collapse of his world and the impact of the progression of his condition.

After a tremendous amount of effort by the JFA social-work department, GT is now residing in a safe, clean, long-term nursing-care facility. He is well cared for, albeit desperate for conversation and engagement. JFA social workers continue to visit GT whenever possible. And when they do, it’s as though no time has passed. GT sits up tall, lights up the room with his handsome smile, and becomes the consummate performer with an audience to entertain once again.

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