I was very interested in drums. I must’ve been about twelve. I had an uncle, my uncle Jack, who was my mother’s brother. He had been a musician in the old country and he always wanted me to be a musician, so he brought me a musical instrument every week. I tried it for one day and I didn’t continue with it. Saxophones and violins, harmonicas, you name it. But I never would stick with anything. But I got very interested in jazz when I was very young. I wanted to be a jazz drummer.

So I ended up taking lessons with a local guy who was a Broadway drummer. His name was Sam Gershik. He was a pit drummer. That meant he was a very capable guy–he could read. I had a lesson with him. His wife was a wonderful fat lady who used to meet me at the door and she used to say, “Sam! Your scholar is here!” I went to Sam and he taught me how to read notes but he never taught me anything about how to play jazz. He’s the guy who had the wonderful line, “Every note should be played like a poil.” (pearl). I paid about two bucks for lessons. Maybe less. I was very good but he wasn’t teaching me what I wanted. I stopped after a while and I started to play with local guys. There were always guys who played instruments and we had a little Dixieland band. We used to play on my roof in the apartment house. Mostly people my own age–clarinet, trumpet, trombone. We used to imitate the Dixieland bands that we knew, mostly white. I didn’t know very much about the real New Orleans style until later. That was rather fun but we didn’t get anywhere. We didn’t do anything professionally. 
That was before I got into the club.

Gene always wanted this portrait and he finally got it.