Patsy Haynes Was a Giant

ORMAN "PATSY" HAYNES sneaked out of his hospital bed to perform in a Christmas concert with Casablanca at the Brooklyn Academy of Music two years ago. With his hospital I.D. bracelet still dangling from his nimble wrists he dazzled the audience with his extraordinary solos. He explored the outer limits of the pan's musical capabilities with jazzy pop tunes and his minimalist rendition of calypsoes.

No mere illness was going to deny Patsy a chance to play his beloved double tenors. His performance demonstrated his skill with an instrument to which development he contributed immensely. But while he left a cherished memory for everyone in that audience, he alone faced the night and debilitating kidney problem. His wife returned his precious pans to his Bronx home and Haynes sneaked back into the hospital.

Taspo Member

Such was the measure of this steelband pioneer who died last week Tuesday. Though diminutive in stature, with a beard that covered most of his fine features. Haynes was a giant virtuoso. "He had a debt touch and a fine style," says Beverley Griffith, one of Desparadoes's arrangers. "He was a master of the extemporaneous solo, and he knew chord structure. His death is certainly the loss of a great," Griffith said.

Haynes was one of Explainer's unsung heroes. He was one of the few still around who could honestly claim to be with the steelband from its birth. An early Casablanca member, he was always recognised as a talented player. Thus, he was assured a place with the Trinidad All Steel and Percussion Orchestra (TASPO) when the group went to England in the early 1950's.

Haynes later travelled to Europe and the U.S., where he lived since 1958. And the double tenor pans he was never without became his passport to the hearts of people wherever he went.

He performed at the Newport Jazz Festival, and on the soundtracks of several movies, including "Arthur." He was featured on a recent popular jazz album by Beaver Harris and Don Pullum called "From Ragtime To No Time."

Until several months ago, when his illness began to slow him down, his instrument was his closet companion. He played frequently in nightclubs, gave demonstrations at schools, and was a frequent "sideman" on many jazz albums.

Whenever hi studio work was slow he would suppress his natural shyness and grace Fifth Avenue in Manhattan with his tenors and his talent. His favourite spot was in front of St Thomas Anglican Church at the corner of 5th Avenue and 53rd Street.

Of the half dozen or so pan soloists who serenade the tourists on 5th Avenue, Patsy was mellowest. He preferred soft tones, and liked to run complex chords under simple melodies. He would sometimes spike a standard and suddenly it sounded fresh and funky. His crafty segueing would often bring pleasant surprises.

Simple Man of Simple Dreams

Jazz offered the perfect outlet for Patsy, who loved improvisation. That was his forte, and thus his marketability with many jazz groups.

As his kidney problem worsened he had to curtail his work, especially those summer appearances on the avenue. Lugging the instruments around became too strenuous for the ailing musician.

Shay Regis, who frequents the same mid-town corners where Patsy entertained, observed three days of mourning in memory of his colleague. "He was a very nice man." says Regis, "he'll be missed in the steelband community."

His music, fittingly, was a large part of the funeral service held for him last Sunday. Taped recordings of his richly textured solos played to nearly 200 mourners who packed a Unity Chapel in the Bronx. And Vincent "Taboo" Taylor performed a moving tribute on a pair of double tenors that rang with all the pentup passion of Patsy's 55 years."

He was a simple man with simple dreams," says Patsy's brother, Ernest Haynes. "Above all," says Patsy's close friend, Coleridge Barbour, "he was a gentleman."

The steelband community in New York turned out in large numbers at the service. Prominently present were the members of Harlem All Stars, the steelband Patsy had played with for more than two decades. Elli Mannette, who is working on the West Coast, sent his wife to represent him. And oldtimers from the steelband movement came from the steelband movement came from all boroughs of the city, and even from out of state.

During the service, Randy Grant, an energetic promoter of steelband, calypso and limbo in the U.S., chastised the Trinidad and Tobago Government for not sending a representative to the service.

Grant, and Carlton Marcano, a pan soloist who played often with Patsy, called for a Steelband Hall of Fame.

Patsy's death, if anything, has lent validity to the efforts of Les Salter, publisher of Pan Magazine, to pay tribute to TASPo's living members.

At the service, Salter said he will spur the steelband movement in Trinidad to demand action from the Government.