“All Our Fields” — a short story by Jay Franzel

March 30th, 2020

 

.

.

“All Our Fields,” a story by Jay Franzel, was a finalist in our recently concluded 53rd Short Fiction Contest. It is published with the permission of the author

 

.

.

.

 

 

 

“Spinning Tennis Ball” by Martyn Fletcher/(CC BY 2.0)

.

.

 

All Our Fields

by

Jay Franzel

.

 

…..I’m in bed, my windows open to the summer breeze, when I hear the guy outside again, singing. The curtains shift, as if with his voice, and glow a little, from the streetlight nearby. I’m thinking about the Apollo nose cone bobbing in the waves, about catching a tennis ball thrown high over the road. My dog’s on the floor, wedged between my bed and the dresser. He’s a Dalmatian, a big one. He got mean for a while—for weeks he’d try to bite whoever came near us. He nipped Walter Meynen on the finger one day, and Walter vowed revenge. During a softball game, Walter stole my sweatshirt off the lawn near home plate. Walter’s dad had gotten a Doberman they were training to be a guard dog, and Walter told me how he’d swat Hans on the face with my sweatshirt. He’d shove the shirt into Hans’ nose and say, “Kill, Hans, kill!”

…..It’s late, maybe two AM, but I’m still awake, a habit I still have, when I hear the guy singing. It’s not like you or I might sound, not even English, but Italian, and so loud I still hear him long after he’s passed under my window. The guys making pizza at Salvatore’s taught me some Italian—swears mostly—but this guy’s singing opera. Night after night I hear him,but only when it’s late, a summer singer wrapped in black curtain, his audience behind locked doors.

…..I figure I’ll ask some guys at the park about him. We played softball and basketball down at the park, which is what we called the schoolyard behind the junior high. The field was concrete, its rough surface like petrified cottage cheese. It turns out some of those guyshave heard the opera singer, too, but nobody knows who he is. We talk about staking him out some night, but mostly they just make fun of him then forget it.“Hey opera-loser,” they say to me,“you playin’ or what?”

…..We’re playing three on three hoops, at the court behind what would have been deepest center field for the guys playing softball, and we stop our game as a long fly ball sails in from the softball field. Eddie Epsteinjust stands there, nonchalant in the lane, as we all duck away, the outfielder panting toward us. The ball fills the sky like an Apollo nose cone arcing seaward, so to me it suddenly seems darker, and everyone moving in slow motion. Eddie catches the ball barehanded, flipping it to the outfielder. When the ball pops Eddie’s palm, a light snapsin my darkening sky.

…..Eddie was an Orioles fan but he got a tryout with the Tigers. He told me, “I can guarantee you two things if I make it to the Majors. I’ll steal fifty bases and be the biggest flake in baseball.” I imagined Eddie coming home winters, telling us stories about life in the major leagues.

…..I watched all those NASA nose cones come home, on TV, diving into the sea. It was like they’d crossed back from an unreachable world, after stitching a tent in the sky. I tried to imagine being an astronaut inside one, but I couldn’t.

…..Weeks passed, and I never saw Hans, nobody did. Some guys would say to me, “There is no Hans.” Walter said they didn’t want Hans around people so he’d get meaner, and be a good guard dog. And he kept trying to steal more of my clothes.“Don’t worry,” guys tell me, “Walter just wants to scare you.” Truth is, he’s doing a good job.

…..We usually played softball at the intersection, Fifty First Avenue and Morini Lane, not on concrete but asphalt, smooth, black, cross-patched over the years. That’s where Walter stole my clothes. Anyone could play, it didn’t matter how good you were.

…..From home plate the road ran straight over third base. The curb was foul, so the third baseman basically played left field, a ways down the road. Eddie used to hit ground balls to third—we hit fungo—then he’d just stand in front of the curb at home plate, waiting for you to catch it. And when you did he’d look at you, like he was daring you to throw him out, holding his bat at home plate, crouching down with a little smile while you squeezed the ball, caught by that look. Finally, you’d wheel toward first, where the tar patches met, and fire the ball, only to see Eddie somehow beat your throw. I never threw Eddie out, but used to think I really wanted to.

…..We played soccer there, too, though we didn’t know the rules. Sidney played a few times. He was older than us, no one even knew who he was. He wore street shoes, black dress pants against pale skin, white button-down shirt. I thought he looked like a ghost. I even have a picture of him, I don’t remember why or where from. One day he just shows up at the intersection, watches us for a while, then starts chasing the ball.He runs kind of funny, on his toes, with small, street shoe steps. He gets red-faced and sweaty and says his name is Andy, though for some reason we call him Sidney.

…..Meanwhile, I keep seeing Hans in my head..We’re in Salvatore’s, sauce dripping like thick blood from Hoffman’s slice as he folds it into his mouth, the triangle of pizza a muzzle, white mozzarella a wall of teeth. Hoffman says, “Maybe there is no Hans,” but he doesn’t sound very convinced.

…..I’m in the intersection, playing back of third one day, when Walter comes over the hill with Hans. Hans is less than a year old but already a giant, and when Walter sees me he marches right into the game, unhooks the leash, points at me and shouts, “Hans, Kill!” The game stops and everyone steps back as Hans charges, gaining speed as he runs.

…..Right around that time we find out that Andy, who we call Sidney, is the guy walking around the neighborhood all night, singing opera.I think of an interview I heard with Bob Dylan. Dylan’s putting the interviewer on, says, “I’m just as good a singer as Caruso. You have to listen closely, but I hit all those notes. And I can hold my breath three times as long if I want to.” I tell Sidney this because it’s all I can think of remotely connected to opera. I don’t even know exactly who Caruso is, maybe he used to walk around his neighborhood all night singing, too. Sidney says, “Dylan? Dylan doesn’t sing—he talks. I’ll show you what singing is.”

…..He takes me to his house, a brick house on a small hill. We go upstairs, it’s dark on the narrow stairway, and I don’t really know this guy. We’re alone, I’m thinking, “‘Phantom of the Opera,’ why did I come?” I start walling myself off inside, I suddenly think, ‘like I’m in a spacesuit.’We go into a little room, he puts on some music, the opera, and he starts to sing.

…..There’s an explosion of notes, like a hundred-ton rocket rising, and I’m suddenly empty, the fear that I felt on his steps burning away. Hawk on an air current—no need not to feel anything—and when he’s done I tell him, “I never heard anything like that before, it’s like going to a different world.”

…..“Ah, I was cheating,” he says, “singing along.” I don’t really know what he means but I know this guy can do something special. “Yeah,” he says,“I maybe could’ve done something—if I didn’t fuck up my throat.”

…..Rocket burns up, nose cone plunges into the sea—what if it doesn’t come up?

…..I guess I asked him about his family.  I don’t remember exactly what he said, but he didn’t seem to get along with his parents. Back then who did? He said something about Law School, and failing the Bar Exam, and fucking up his throat.

…..I don’t tell anybody about it except Hoffman, who says, “We gotta get your dad’s tape recorder and record this guy!”

…..We used to play with my father’s big reel-to-reel. When Hoffman would leave, I’d sit, running my fingers over the thin tape, flat brown on one side, glossy on the other, wondering how it could capture our voices, and why, when I spoke to my father, he couldn’t hear me.

…..When Hans came charging at me over third base that day, I froze from fear. I tried to relax, but I could hear his nails clattering over the asphalt. As he got closer I saw him yap his mouth, his neck muscles tightening, but I never heard him bark. Then he leapt for my face.

…..But when I think of games on that lopsided, asphalt softball field, I think of stickball games, too, further up the road. Not the intersection now, just the road, by John Lee Bateman’s house, curbs marking foul territory. And after a stickball game, John Lee would come out and throw us younger kids high pops—throw after throw, sky high they seemed to me. He’d just materialize—we’d be playing and toward the end of the game I’d notice John Lee leaning on a parked car in front of his house. His pointed Adam’s Apple shivers when he breathes, his arms loose and long at his sides, and what I most remember, and maybe it was just in my head, was this sadness around John Lee..His body seemed as lost in soul as the earth in space. And I remember the yellow tennis ball, coming back down, like one of those nose cones, after stitching a rent in the sky.

…..So one day, I’m sitting here, forty years and four hundred miles from all that, when I hear about an incident in the old neighborhood. It’s on the news: A guy kills his mother, his father, three friends, and wounds two others. He drives off, breaks into a house, takes a couple of older people hostage, faces off with the cops then kills himself.

…..And it’s Sidney, though they call him Andy, and everyone’s saying, “Why?”

…..I thought of his house on the hill, the steep stairs to his music room where he sang that aria, now soaking up blood. And I remember, I have this picture of Sidney still—I could contact the National Enquirer—I could say, “Yeah, I knew this guy, years ago.We recorded him singing opera on the sidewalk. He played soccer with us sometimes. I’ve been away, but, look, here’s his picture—black street shoes, dress pants, white shirt hanging over pot belly, fists out in one of those Wallace Beery poses”—and I could tell ‘em some stories and maybe the Enquirer would pay me a whole lot of money.

…..And I remembered the tennis ball touching the sky. I loved the schoolyard, the intersection, the side street—all our fields—where anyone could play—and John Lee—his long skinny arm, wrist twisting, elbow snapping off throw after throw. And with every flight of that tennis ball, I felt this secret arcing sadness quietly carve its way through me, till there wasn’t room for much else. One day John Lee’s family moved away, and it struck me how I never really knew him, yet somehow always knew, something in John Lee I saw with my heart, something in both of us. We can’t talk about it, but he can throw the ball up high and I can catch it,and then go home with a nod when it’s dark.

…..Hoffman became a Rabbi, and Eddie—someone said something about selling lizards and snakes. I know he hurt his knee and never made the majors. I like to think he would have. I guess Sidney’s buried somewhere, maybe near his mother, who he stuffed in a hole in the basement, sealing her up after he killed her—it took the cops over a month to find her body.

…..I didn’t cry when Hans leapt at my face, I guess I was too scared. But it turns out if I had, he would have just licked the tears. Turns out, too, Hans is mute. When he barks, you see his throat muscles tighten, but all you hear is a breath.

…..I took Hans for a walk one day. We circled the bases at the intersection, Hans sniffing the asphalt, taking a drink from Kavanaugh’s big sprinkler like he’s gonna swallow the nozzle. We walk up the road, sit on the curb in front of what used to be John Lee’s house. I say to Hans, “I was really scared of you, man. Before I ever saw you, I prayed you’d get hit by a car, or eat poison. You were supposed to be mean.”

…..Hans wags what he has of a tail,and starts licking me. Eddie’s still got two good knees, Sidney’s still got opera in his soul, John Lee’s already gone. Hans is licking my salty face, he’s trying to bark and I can’t say anything else but I watch his mouth open and close and I wonder if that’s how I look to my father sometimes, and why I can’t just lick his face.

…..I never called the damned Enquirer, but I looked up all the articles about Sidney in a news archive. People called him Crazy Andy, and talked about how he rented out porn videos, loan sharked and ran bets for people. How he stared at strangers and shot car windows out with a BB gun, played golf on neighbors’ lawns and cast a fishing line over the curb—but they never mentioned soccer in the street, not even the opera.

…..Maybe he felt like nobody heard him, but,somewhere along the line,.I guess he just stopped singing.

.

.

_____

.

.

.

Jay Franzel lives in Wayne, ME, recently retired after working with at-risk youth for over 30 years. He has published poems in numerous journals and anthologies and received poetry grants from the Maine Arts Commission and St Botolph’s Foundation. He is the organizer of The Bookey Readings, a spoken-word series at the Harlow Gallery in Hallowell, Maine.

.

.

.

Share this:

Comment on this article:

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

Site Archive

Your Support is Appreciated

Jerry Jazz Musician has been commercial-free since its inception in 1999. Your generous donation helps it remain that way. Thanks very much for your kind consideration.

Publisher’s Notes

Creatives – “This is our time!“…A Letter from the Publisher...A call to action to take on political turmoil through the use of our creativity as a way to help our fellow citizens “pierce the mundane to find the marvelous.”

In This Issue

Announcing the book publication of Kinds of Cool: An Interactive Collection of Jazz Poetry...The first Jerry Jazz Musician poetry anthology published in book form includes 90 poems by 47 poets from all over the world, and features the brilliant artwork of Marsha Hammel and a foreword by Jack Kerouac’s musical collaborator David Amram. The collection is “interactive” (and quite unique) because it invites readers – through the use of QR codes printed on many of the book’s pages – to link to selected readings by the poets themselves, as well as to historic audio and video recordings (via YouTube) relevant to many of the poems, offering a holistic experience with the culture of jazz.

Interview

photo Louis Armstrong House Museum
Interview with Ricky Riccardi, author of Stomp Off, Let’s Go: The Early Years of Louis Armstrong...The author discusses the third volume of his trilogy, which includes the formation of the Armstrong-led ensembles known as the Hot Five and Hot Seven that modernized music, the way artists play it, and how audiences interact with it and respond to it.

The Sunday Poem

photo of Billy Wilder via Wikimedia Commons


“You Know by the Laughter,” by Joan E. Bauer


The Sunday Poem is published weekly, and strives to include the poet reading their work....

Joan E. Bauer reads her poem at its conclusion


Click here to read previous editions of The Sunday Poem

Feature

“What one song best represents your expectations for 2025?” Readers respond...When asked to name the song that best represents their expectations for 2025, respondents often cited songs of protest and of the civil rights era, but so were songs of optimism and appreciation, including Bob Thiele and George David Weiss’ composition “What a Wonderful World,” made famous by Louis Armstrong, who first performed it live in 1959. The result is a fascinating and extensive outlook on the upcoming year.

Poetry

Sax in a Blue Suit by Samuel Dixon
21 jazz poems on the 21st of March, 2025...An ongoing series designed to share the quality of jazz poetry continuously submitted to Jerry Jazz Musician by poets sharing their relationship to the music, and with the musicians who perform it.

Interview

photo by Brian McMillen
Interview with Phillip Freeman, author of In the Brewing Luminous: The Life and Music of Cecil Taylor...The author discusses Cecil Taylor – the most eminent free jazz musician of his era, whose music marked the farthest boundary of avant-garde jazz.

Feature

photo of Rudy Van Gelder via Blue Note Records
“Rudy Van Gelder: Jazz Music’s Recording Angel” – by Joel Lewis...For over 60 years, the legendary recording engineer Rudy Van Gelder devoted himself to the language of sound. And although he recorded everything from glee clubs to classical music, he was best known for recording jazz – specifically the musicians associated with Blue Note and Prestige records. Joel Lewis writes about his impact on the sound of jazz, and what has become of his Englewood Cliffs, New Jersey studio.

Poetry

photo of Charlie Parker by William Gottlieb/Library of Congress; Design by Rhonda R. Dorsett
Jerrice J. Baptiste’s 2025 Jazz Poetry Calendar...Jerrice J. Baptiste’s 12-month 2025 calendar of jazz poetry winds through the upcoming year with her poetic grace while inviting us to wander through music by the likes of Hoagy Carmichael, Antonio Carlos Jobim, Sarah Vaughan, Melody Gardot and Charlie Parker.

Playlist

“Sextets: The Joy of Six” – a playlist by Bob Hecht...The cover of the 1960 debut album by the Jazztet, co-founded by the trumpeter Art Farmer and the tenor saxophonist Benny Golson, and which always featured a trombonist and a piano-bass-drums rhythm section. Golson wrote much of the music, but “Hi-Fly” – a tune featured on Bob Hecht’s two-hour playlist devoted to sextets – was written by pianist Randy Weston, and appears on the 1960 album Big City Sounds.

Interview

Interview with Jonathon Grasse: author of Jazz Revolutionary: The Life and Music of Eric Dolphy....The multi-instrumentalist Eric Dolphy was a pioneer of avant-garde technique. His life cut short in 1964 at the age of 36, his brilliant career touched fellow musical artists, critics, and fans through his innovative work as a composer, sideman and bandleader. Jonathon Grasse’s Jazz Revolutionary is a significant exploration of Dolphy’s historic recorded works, and reminds readers of the complexity of his biography along the way. Grasse discusses his book in a December, 2024 interview.

Feature

Dmitry Rozhkov, CC BY-SA 4.0 via Wikimedia Commons
“Thoughts on Matthew Shipp’s Improvisational Style” – an essay by Jim Feast..Short of all the musicians being mind readers, what accounts for free jazz musicians’ – in this instance those playing with the pianist Matthew Shipp – incredible ability for mutual attunement as they play?

Art

Photo of Joe Lovano by Giovanni Piesco
The Photographs of Giovanni Piesco: Joe Lovano...Beginning in 1990, the noted photographer Giovanni Piesco began taking backstage photographs of many of the great musicians who played in Amsterdam’s Bimhuis, that city’s main jazz venue which is considered one of the finest in the world. Jerry Jazz Musician will occasionally publish portraits of jazz musicians that Giovanni has taken over the years. This edition features 1999 photographs of the saxophonist Joe Lovano.

Feature

Excerpts from David Rife’s Jazz Fiction: Take Two – Vol. 11: “Chick” and “Hen” Lit...A substantial number of novels and stories with jazz music as a component of the story have been published over the years, and the scholar David J. Rife has written short essay/reviews of them. In this 11th edition, Rife writes about the “chicks” (energetic women, attractive, and open to experience) and “hens” (older women who have either buried or lost a loved one, and who seem content with their lives) who are at the center of stories with jazz within its theme.

Interview

photo by Carl Van Vechten, Library of Congress
A Black History Month Profile: The legendary author Richard Wright...In a 2002 Jerry Jazz Musician interview, Richard Wright biographer Hazel Rowley discusses the life and times of legendary author Richard Wright, whose work included the novels Native Son andBlack Boy

Feature

On the Turntable — The “Best Of the ‘Best Of’” in 2024 jazz recordings...Our annual year-end compilation of jazz albums oft mentioned by a wide range of critics as being the best of 2024

In Memoriam

photo via Pexels.com
“Departures to the Final Arms Hotel in 2024” – poetic tributes, by Terrance Underwood...2024 produced its share of losses of legendary jazz musicians. Terrance Underwood pays poetic homage to a handful who have touched his life, imagining their admittance to the Final Arms Hotel, a destination he introduces in his prelude.

Community

Stewart Butterfield, CC BY 2.0, via Wikimedia Commons
Community Bookshelf #4...“Community Bookshelf” is a twice-yearly space where writers who have been published on Jerry Jazz Musician can share news about their recently authored books and/or recordings. This edition includes information about books published within the last six months or so (September, 2024 – March, 2025)

Feature

Trading Fours, with Douglas Cole, No. 23: “The Wave”...In this edition of an occasional series of the writer’s poetic interpretations of jazz recordings and film, Douglas’ poem is written partly as a reference to the Antonio Carlos Jobin song “Wave,” but mostly to get in the famed Japanese artist Hokusai’s idea of the wave as being a huge, threatening thing. (The poem initially sprang from listening to Cal Tjader’s “Along Came Mary”).

Short Fiction

Stan Shebs, CC BY-SA 3.0 , via Wikimedia Commons/blur effect added
Short Fiction Contest-winning story #67 — “Bluesette,” by Salvatore Difalco...The author’s award-winning story is a semi-satirical mood piece about a heartbroken man in Europe listening to a recording by the harmonica player Toots Thielemans while under the influence of a mind-altering substance.

Interview

Interview with James Kaplan, author of 3 Shades of Blue: Miles Davis, John Coltrane, Bill Evans and the Lost Empire of Cool...The esteemed writer tells a vibrant story about the jazz world before, during, and after the 1959 recording of Kind of Blue, and how the album’s three genius musicians came together, played together, and grew together (and often apart) throughout the experience.

Feature

photo of Lester Young by William Gottlieb/Library of Congress
Jazz History Quiz #179...Throughout his career, this saxophonist was known as the “Vice Prez” because he sounded so similar to “Prez,” Lester Young (pictured). Who was he?

Community

Nominations for the Pushcart Prize XLIX...Announcing the six writers nominated for the Pushcart Prize v. XLIX, whose work was published in Jerry Jazz Musician during 2024.

Publisher’s Notes

photo by Rhonda Dorsett
On turning 70, and contemplating the future of Jerry Jazz Musician...

Feature

“Are Jazz-Hop Instrumentals Jazz?” – an observation (and playlist) by Anthony David Vernon...Google “what is jazz-hop?” and the AI overview describes it is “a subgenre of hip-hop that combines jazz and hip-hop music. It developed in the late 1980s and early 1990s.” In Mr. Vernon’s observation, he makes the case that it is also a subgenre of jazz.

Community

Notes on Bob Hecht’s book, Stolen Moments: A Photographer’s Personal Journey...Some thoughts on a new book of photography by frequent Jerry Jazz Musician contributing writer Bob Hecht

Art

“The Jazz Dive” – the art of Allen Mezquida...The artist's work is inspired by the counterculture music from the 1950s and 60s, resulting in art “that resonates with both eyes and ears.” It is unique and creative and worth a look…

True Jazz Stories

Columbia Records; via Wikimedia Commons
“An Evening with Michael Bloomfield” – a true blues story by David Eugene Everard...The author recounts his experience meeting and interviewing the great blues guitarist Mike Bloomfield in 1974…

Short Fiction

photo via PxHere
“The Magic” – a story by Mark Bruce...Most bands know how to make music. They learn to play together so that it sounds good and maybe even get some gigs. Most bands know that you have your chord progressions and your 4/4 beat and your verses and bridges. Some bands even have a guy (or a woman, like Chrissy Hynde) who writes songs. So what gives some bands the leg up into the Top 40?

Contributing Writers

Click the image to view the writers, poets and artists whose work has been published on Jerry Jazz Musician, and find links to their work

Coming Soon

An interview with Sascha Feinstein, author of Writing Jazz: Conversations with Critics and Biographers;, Also, a new Jazz History Quiz, and lots of short fiction; poetry; photography; interviews; playlists; and much more in the works...

Interview Archive

Ella Fitzgerald/IISG, CC BY-SA 2.0 , via Wikimedia Commons
Click to view the complete 25-year archive of Jerry Jazz Musician interviews, including those recently published with Judith Tick on Ella Fitzgerald (pictured),; Laura Flam and Emily Sieu Liebowitz on the Girl Groups of the 60's; Tad Richards on Small Group Swing; Stephanie Stein Crease on Chick Webb; Brent Hayes Edwards on Henry Threadgill; Richard Koloda on Albert Ayler; Glenn Mott on Stanley Crouch; Richard Carlin and Ken Bloom on Eubie Blake; Richard Brent Turner on jazz and Islam; Alyn Shipton on the art of jazz; Shawn Levy on the original queens of standup comedy; Travis Atria on the expatriate trumpeter Arthur Briggs; Kitt Shapiro on her life with her mother, Eartha Kitt; Will Friedwald on Nat King Cole; Wayne Enstice on the drummer Dottie Dodgion; the drummer Joe La Barbera on Bill Evans; Philip Clark on Dave Brubeck; Nicholas Buccola on James Baldwin and William F. Buckley; Ricky Riccardi on Louis Armstrong; Dan Morgenstern and Christian Sands on Erroll Garner; Maria Golia on Ornette Coleman.