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My Saint Patrick's Day
by Patricia Conover
Last
night, my boss had a gig at Tomi Jazz Restaurant (239 East 53rd St.) She's
a hard-working content manager at an international company by day and a
world-class jazz singer by night.
Tomi
Jazz is a cool little place with an unmarked door on a busy restaurant street.
I walked by it twice before I saw some people walking down a narrow staircase and
realized that it was there.
So
there I was last night, wearin' o' the green, my once-a-year Claddagh earrings in
place, drinking saki and eating sushi with a bunch of Japanese businessmen
and a handsome doctor and his beautiful sister on St. Patrick's Day.
We were all friends before midnight.
My
boss, Eileen, was terrific and brave and funny. She has a sultry voice, sweet patter and smooth delivery and she is a spontaneous
and joyful vocalist. She also conveys lyrics--her own and those of Nat
King Cole, Cole Porter, and many others-- powerfully. She's living the
dream of being a jazz singer in Manhattan. Last night, Nat Janoff dazzled
on electric guitar, Eddy Khaimovich awed on bass, and Darrell
Smith dazzled on drums. They are three of the outstanding musicians who
perform with Eileen regularly.
Eileen sings
with her amazing and versatile band in venues all around New York.
How awesome is that? Her husband George is her biggest fan. Eileen has written
songs about him, and he clearly adores her. In short, they're crazy about each
other and they've been married nearly 40 years. They're just darling
together.
And
the music is great for the restaurant. Eileen's singing and the band's cool
riffs set a lovely mood and attract customers and keep them in the house,
buying drinks. Eileen and her band aren't earning the big bucks but they are
showcasing their art and enjoying
themselves while building a following. It's a win/win situation.
I
sat at the bar and made lots of friends while I nursed my Sapporo. Suddenly I remembered
that my last chance to return home departed at 11:40 p.m. I jumped up and leapt
out the door without a sayonara, down the windy street to the subway at 53rd
and Third Avenue. Took the 6 to Grand Central and changed to the 7 for Times
Square. Ran to Port Authority and up three flights of stairs to the gate.
Looked at my watch. It was 11:38 p.m.
Phew!
Kirk was
asleep when I arrived home. I didn't turn on the light. I didn't want the glow
from my night to fade into the shadows.
