PITTSBURGH -- On a mostly sunny Saturday, an estimated 3,000 spectators turned out with their lawn chairs and blankets for what might have been a jazz performance for the record books.

On Sept. 5, 103-year-old retired Judge Warren Watson took the stage at the Monroeville Jazz Festival with Court in Session, the ensemble that grew out of jam sessions he has hosted at his Hill District home. Festival organizers believe the performance made Watson the oldest performing jazz musician in the United States.

The nine members onstage ranged from 42 years old to Watson’s 103, though the majority of the musicians could easily be described as “mature.” Still, their pleasure was unmistakable as they riffed off each other and visibly enjoyed one another’s contributions.

Ninety-two-year-old tenor saxman Art Nance soloed with the verve and wit of a man a third of his age, to appreciative hoots of “Yeah, baby!”

Singer Gwen Davis, who was Watson’s secretary for 25 years, joined the band for renditions of “At Last” and “Summertime.”

They exchanged wide grins after Watson soloed on the latter tune.

“I loved him,” she told the audience. “Can’t too many people say that about their boss.”

From bandleader to bench

A few days before the jazz festival, Watson was seated in an armchair in his rambling home with his daughter Wrenna and fellow musician Nelson Harrison. Even dressed informally in a red fleece jacket and chinos, he maintained a distinguished air.

Asked about the history-making possibility of the performance, Watson expressed disinterest.

“I couldn’t be less concerned,” he said.

What does matter to him is what happens when he’s onstage.

“When I get up there, if and when I’m playing with the people I can deal with, then I’m in a different world,” Watson said. “I am playing for myself and I am totally engrossed in that.”

He singled out Harrison, a longtime friend and ensemble member who plays trombone, trombetto and melodica.

“If I happen to hit Nelson and the two of us get something going, I don't care about the rest of the world,” he said. “I listen to what he’s playing. ... I extrapolate from that.”

It is a musical conversation that began decades ago.

Watson was born in 1923 on Bennett Street in Pittsburgh's Homewood-Brushton neighborhood. In 1940, he graduated from Westinghouse High School, where he played first-chair trumpet in the concert band. He studied privately with band director Carl McVicker Sr., whose other students included jazz legends like Billy Strayhorn, Erroll Garner and Ahmad Jamal.

Watson also studied music at Oberlin College before World War II interrupted his education. Jazz, however, was something he learned outside the classroom.

Pittsburgh, during Watson’s youth, was producing a remarkable collection of jazz musicians. He remembers struggling at first to play what he heard around him.

“[Pittsburgh] was loaded with jazz music,” he said. “But they all played better than I did at that time. That was my problem: I had to catch up to them as it went.”

With persistence, he eventually did.

Even as a boy, Watson was organizing bands. By the 1940s, he was performing around Pittsburgh, particularly in Homewood, in places like the now-closed Zebra Room at Eileen’s Bar and Grill.

Watson served in the Navy from 1943 to 1946. His daughter, an Allegheny County Common Pleas Judge, said her father scored exceptionally well on his military aptitude testing and initially wanted to fly, but was told that opportunity wasn’t available to him as a Black sailor. Instead, while walking around the base, he gravitated toward the sound of a Navy band.

According to his daughter, Watson was invited to sit in and, when handed a difficult tune, he said, “What key do you want me to play in?”

Only a few minutes of playing led to his being appointed band director, Wrenna said. It was while in the service that he met her mother, Roberta, in California.

After the war, Watson returned to Pittsburgh, earning a bachelor’s degree in economics and political science and a law degree from Duquesne University. He was inspired to turn from music to a steadier profession by his desire to support a family, Wrenna explained. (Watson ultimately had a son and two daughters with Roberta; he had a son with his second wife, Carole.)

He then worked for Pennsylvania’s unemployment compensation and workers’ compensation bureaus, entered private practice and served as an assistant Pittsburgh city solicitor. He served as the “consigliere,” as Wrenna jokingly puts it, of Joe Robinson, a Hill District numbers banker and owner of Crawford Grill No. 2 on Wylie Avenue.

In November 1965, Watson was elected to the Allegheny County Court of Common Pleas. He remained on the court for 38 years, including a decade as a senior judge, before retiring in 2003, at the age of 80.

Musicians Local 471

Even during his time on the bench, music was a constant in his life.

“I kept on performing when I could,” Watson said.

During his years as a lawyer and judge, he played with a group called Professional Men in Jazz, whose members had careers outside music. They performed at dances and events and gathered for weekly jam sessions.

“He never stopped playing music,” his daughter said.

During his career, he was a member of the Black musicians’ union.

For much of the 20th century, Black musicians in Pittsburgh belonged to American Federation of Musicians Local 471, separate from the predominantly white Local 60. Local 471 operated its own musicians club, which served as a social gathering place and rolling jam session.

Harrison remembers it as a place where reputation mattered less than whether a musician could play.

“You could walk into the musician's club at 4 o'clock in the morning and play. And if you were a famous name or you were a nobody that nobody knew, you could tell by the sounds that were being made whether you could get up and play or not.”

Musicians passing through Pittsburgh knew the union’s club as a place to find some of the city's best players, Harrison said.

He tells the story of when famed saxophonist Stan Getz was in town and stopped by. He agreed to sit in on a session.

“So [Getz] goes over to the piano player and he says, ‘I’m going to play something pretty fast. So watch the tempo, right?’”

The teenage piano player was unfazed.

“He played so much Stan didn’t know where to come in,” Harrison recounted. “It was Ahmad Jamal at 16.”

Besides being a union member, Watson was its lawyer around the time Locals 471 and 60 negotiated their merger in 1965. Watson opposed the merger, fearing that the much smaller Black membership would lose influence in the combined organization.

“I was having a fit,” he recalled.

Indeed, after the merger, many of 471’s records were lost, meaning some members lost seniority and benefits. Many Black musicians canceled their union membership, though it meant they could not perform professionally in Pittsburgh.

The 471 club disappeared, but Harrison sees its spirit surviving inside Watson's Hill District home.

After the death of Watson’s second wife, Carole, in 2018, he began inviting musicians into the house for jam sessions. To this day they are held every other Friday.

Musicians of different generations come to play. Younger players sometimes arrive from the University of Pittsburgh or Duquesne and are encouraged to learn the music the way Watson and Harrison did: by listening and playing with more experienced musicians.

“This is the vestige of the 471 because it’s the same philosophical environment,” Harrison said. “That’s what we’re preserving.”

A musical conversation

Watson no longer plays the trumpet that first fascinated him as a boy. When the physical demands of traditional wind instruments became difficult, he switched to an electronic wind instrument, which allows him to use familiar wind-instrument fingerings while producing electronically generated sounds.

That hasn’t changed the basic method. For Watson and Harrison, jazz is a language learned through listening and imitation.

Harrison recalls sitting on Watson’s front porch as a 16-year-old, chatting with his mentor.

“I’ll never forget this conversation,” Harrison said. “We're sitting on the swing. I said, ‘Who’s the best alto sax player?’ He said, ‘Charlie Parker.’ … ‘Who's the best tenor player?’ He said, ‘Lester Young.’”

Harrison went through a list of instruments. Then he “looked them up” like homework to study their styles.

After imitation, with work would come mastery and the ability to converse. Harrison experienced this himself after he met Watson when he was 12. His mother had asked the older musician to help a group of neighborhood boys who had formed a band called the Beethoven Bebops.

Watson didn’t have to teach them how to play their instruments. They already played in school bands.

“He taught us the jazz language,” Harrison said.

More than seven decades later, teacher and student are still keeping up the conversation. Harrison said that when they play together now, he has one particular objective: “My goal is to make him smile.”

Watson laughed at that.

“Oh, we had a lot of fun,” he said. “We did have a lot of fun.”

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