I hadn’t been at the Palladium long when I looked up from my desk to see a sporty-looking gent with a manchu-moustache and a bald head, standing in my doorway.
“I’m Stan Hunter,” he said. “When you gonna give me a gig?”
I recognized him from a Palladium show called the Battle of the B3s. He played Hammond B3 and his son-in-law, Patrick Bettison, played chromatic harmonica that night. It was the musical highlight of the night for me. A month later, I was hired to run the Palladium and now here he is in my doorway.
“But I don’t have a B3,” I told him.
“That’s okay, I play piano too.” Stan said. From the look in his eye, “No” was not going to be an acceptable answer.
So I gave him a gig. And over the next eight years, Stan was a regular performer in our Side Door nightclub. He brought in great bands. He played solo in a jazz piano night. He appeared during a Hammond B3 summer music series.
And always, a few weeks or months after his latest gig, I’d get a call or a visit from Stan asking “When you gonna give me a gig?”
Stan had always made his living as a musician. He and Pam raised two daughters and life took them many places, but he never lost his passion of making new music. He was always writing and recording. While his B3 playing could be smooth and warm, his piano style was fresh and percussive. And like all good musicians, he was always looking for that next gig.
He became a friend and a musical mentor for me. I took some lessons and did some recording with him. He and Pam came to dinner at our house – even when it was still under construction. And they returned the favor with great meals at their condo.
He showed up when I was doing a cabaret gig in downtown St. Pete and I brought him up. Together we did “Ev’ry Time We Say Goodbye.” And while I don’t perform at the Palladium, when Stan played the Side Door, he always invited me up to sing.
This was helpful since Stan only thought he could sing. And he never could remember the words to any song.
As he entered his 80s, Stan’s health begin to deteriorate. Kidney issues and other problems slowed him down. He gave up his motor scooter.
I did a “Stan Hunter Celebration” concert, hoping that Stan wouldn’t bug me for a show after that. But he did, and last January, we had a show set, but he ended up in the hospital instead.
That’s it, I thought. Nope.
A few months after that, there he was in my doorway.
“When you gonna give me another gig?”
I suggested a lunch, hoping it would distract him. He like to go to lunch with me, since he could eat stuff he couldn’t eat when Pam was around. I came over a week or so later and we spent a wonderful hour together talking about music over a meal. But Stan picked at his food and his energy was low.
I got away without having to commit to a gig I didn’t think he was healthy enough to play. But the day after our lunch, Stan was on my voicemail: “Did we ever figure out my next gig?”
I didn’t call him back – I had to leave town the next day. But I knew I’d have to answer that inevitable question soon. Instead, while I was in Los Angeles I saw a post on Facebook that Stan had died.
His funeral last week was a celebration. The church was packed with musicians and friends. Music and stories continued for over two hours.
I guess Stan won’t be calling me about another gig. I’m sad about that. But there will be another gig. Stay tuned in 2016 for Stan Hunter’s final gig in the Side Door. He won’t be here, but his friends will and his spirit will fill the room.
I guarantee it will be a great night of music.
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