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Friday, February 4, 2005 (SF Chronicle)
One-woman band gives beat to farmers' market/Her guitar and saw act may
be on hold, but the music will never stop for longtime entertainer
Jackie Jones
Carolyn Jones, Chronicle Staff Writer
Amid the organic honey, kettle corn and spaghetti squash at the
Alemany
Farmers' Market is one of San Francisco's unsung musical treasures.
Playing her saw and homemade guitar, Jackie Floyd Jones has
entertained
thousands of shoppers over the years with upbeat songs from the 1920s
and
'30s accompanied by her sidekick, a dancing wooden cat. She's even been
incorporated into the murals there.
But the farmers' market is a little quieter these days, since Jones,
78,
had to undergo thumb surgery for arthritis in late December and has
been
unable to play. It could be another month or so before she's back at
the
music stand, making this the longest stretch she's been without a
guitar
in her hands since she first picked up an instrument, during the
Roosevelt
administration.
"People miss her, but they know she's trying to get back as soon as
she
can," said Amalia Martinez, senior clerk at the Alemany Farmers'
Market,
where Jones has played for more than a decade. "She brings so much to
the
farmers' market. She brings happiness to everyone who sees her. Not
only
adults like to listen to her, but children have fun, too."
She made the Bay Guardian's Best of the Bay honors twice, in 2001
for
"best and freest song and dance routine" and in 2003 for "best free act
with strings attached."
But the farmers' market is only a footnote to Jones' musical career.
Since
she arrived in San Francisco in March 1952 from New Orleans, Jones has
played music continuously, in dance bands, bar bands, Latin bands,
Russian
bands, stage bands, gay bands, Hawaiian bands, country bands and even
with
the legendary Cockettes. She's played at county fairs and strip shows
and
everywhere in between.
"The bottom line for Jackie has always been the music. It's always
been
the most important thing in her life," said musician Pauline Scholten,
a
friend of Jones'. "It's her passion, it's what energizes her."
Jones said that once her thumb heals, both from arthritis and the
resulting surgery, she plans to keep playing into her 80s. Retirement
is
not even in her vocabulary.
"I love playing music. I love the people. I feel that I'm
communicating
with people," she said during a recent interview near her Bernal
Heights
home. "Ordinarily you have to go through so many hoops to communicate
with
people, but with music it's immediate. I never want to stop."
Jones is not enjoying her time off. She's so antsy to start playing
again
she's trying to rig a child-size record-player, on 78 speed, to strum a
guitar so she can play the chords with her good hand. She also bought
29
CDs to learn some new material for when she returns.
"I will be back playing as soon as I can lift my dancing cat," she
said.
"I'm missing it a whole lot right now. It's not about the money. I miss
those people, all the mothers and kids and all that. I miss the
atmosphere."
Many of her fans would be surprised to learn that Jones, who's
usually
seen at the farmers' market in jeans and a flannel shirt, started out
life
as a would-be Southern belle. She comes from a "repressive Southern
family," she said, where her stepfather was in the Navy, her mother was
named after a Civil War admiral and her grandmother was a member of
United
Daughters of the Confederacy.
Jones spent her childhood in Pensacola, Fla., and New Orleans, where
her
parents became so desperate to "make a lady" of her they sent her to
the
Ursuline nun convent school. The nuns didn't have much luck, however.
Jones was kicked out at age 13 for stealing a cigarette from a priest
and
smoking it in the bathroom, emerging triumphantly in a cloud of smoke
and
pair of sunglasses.
From there she went to public school, and in her final year she got
an
accordion and taught herself to play. Knowing "only three tunes, all in
the key of C," she'd wander up and down Bourbon Street trying to sit in
with the bands there.
Finally she found a group that played cowboy music and let her join,
earning $3 a night. She was a quick study, and learned how to play just
by
watching them, and then branched out to other Bourbon Street bands.
Then,
at age 28, she started looking for work as a professional musician.
Reading want ads, she deduced that San Francisco and Los Angeles had
the
best opportunities for women. She tried L.A. first, hated it, and
headed
north.
San Francisco was an immediate hit.
"I loved it because every person on the street looked different,"
she
said. "I found work right away, and a place to live. Everything fell
into
place and I never left.
"I knew this is where I had to stay," she added. "I'd be tarred and
feathered if I ever went back to Pensacola."
She held a series of odd jobs, mostly assembly-line work, but worked
steadily as a musician at a time when women, let alone single,
tomboyish
women, had a hard time finding work that wasn't secretarial. Her
longest
stint was 10 years sorting mail at the U.S. Post Office's Rincon Annex.
She saved enough to buy a house, which she paid for in cash in the
early
1970s.
Independent, determined and pragmatic, Jones forged a music career
against
enormous odds. When a Latin band asked that she wear a sexy off-the-
shoulder dress, she did it. When the Santa Clara County Fair wanted her
to
wear a purple-and-green floral gown, she did. When she needed to learn
Russian tangos, she did. She learned every instrument and was willing
to
work any venue. Among her more memorable gigs was playing drums with
the
Cockettes, the rowdy midnight drag revue memorialized in a documentary
in
2002.
"It was fun. But I was always afraid the audience was going to jump
onstage and kill us," she said.
At the time, Jones lived in a boarding house with such future stars
as
actor Morgan Freeman and Navajo artist R.C. Gorman. She still keeps in
touch with people who were involved with the Cockettes, such as Peter
Mintun.
Jones' primary talents may be musical, but beneath her creative
impulses
she has a scientific, inquisitive mind. She earned a bachelor's degree
in
physical science from San Francisco State in 1962, and later went back
to
City College of San Francisco to study electronics and electronic
music.
Combining her scientific knowledge with music, Jones has created a
host of
new instruments, including the homemade guitar she plays at the
farmers'
market. It combines a washboard, painted red, with a Fender neck to
create
a unique sound. She has also made a xylophone out of cat food cans,
among
other inventions.
Among her trademark inventions is a pink dancing cat, which she
carved out
of wood and affixed with metal discs on its feet. Rigged to springs,
cords
and a foot pedal, the cat tap-dances on a wooden platform to produce a
lively backbeat for Jones' performance. She controls it with a foot
pedal,
which she operates while she's playing the saw, guitar or other
instrument.
Kids are transfixed by the dancing cat, and often crowd around at
the
farmers' market to watch it skip and hop in perfect time to Jones'
swinging 1920s tunes.
"I have to do what someone else is not doing," Jones said. "No one's
going
to want to stand there and watch just me. So I have to give them
something
interesting to look at. Otherwise you lose them."
Jones' love of novelty extends to her musical taste. Although she
can play
anything, these days she's interested in the early 20th century pop
songs,
which she described as "happy, positive, danceable. Kids like it, older
people like it. There's a lot of good stuff from then. It's a very
creative medium."
Using her electronics background, she's come up with a way to give
these
songs the full band treatment. She has recorded herself playing all the
instruments -- drums, banjo, accordion, bass, among others --
essentially
becoming her own backup band. She plays the recordings and saves the
saw
and guitar parts to play live.
Although she's never had formal training, she can play just about
any
instrument and learn any song just by watching and listening to others.
"She has a phenomenal musical mind," said her friend Pauline
Scholten.
"She's not flashy, but she never makes mistakes, she's got good rhythm,
good swing and a wonderful musical brain."
Another longtime friend, Sally Gearhart of Mendocino County, called
Jones
"a musical genius, mostly unsung."
"She was part of that whole wonderful music scene in the '50s, when
San
Francisco was just rocking," Gearhart said. "She's a wonderful spirit,
full of life and good-hearted fun. I've never seen anyone give such joy
to
spectators. I can't think of anyone in San Francisco whom the world
needs
more of."
"People use music in different ways," Jones said. "People who like
rock
have a physical response to it. They like to jump around to it, not
listen
so much. Course, I don't mind if they jump around to my music, too, but
I'd like to give them something to listen too, as well."
She thought about that for a moment, then added, "I'm just glad they
like
me."
One-woman band gives beat to farmers' market/Her guitar and saw act may
be on hold, but the music will never stop for longtime entertainer
Jackie Jones
Carolyn Jones, Chronicle Staff Writer
Amid the organic honey, kettle corn and spaghetti squash at the
Alemany
Farmers' Market is one of San Francisco's unsung musical treasures.
Playing her saw and homemade guitar, Jackie Floyd Jones has
entertained
thousands of shoppers over the years with upbeat songs from the 1920s
and
'30s accompanied by her sidekick, a dancing wooden cat. She's even been
incorporated into the murals there.
But the farmers' market is a little quieter these days, since Jones,
78,
had to undergo thumb surgery for arthritis in late December and has
been
unable to play. It could be another month or so before she's back at
the
music stand, making this the longest stretch she's been without a
guitar
in her hands since she first picked up an instrument, during the
Roosevelt
administration.
"People miss her, but they know she's trying to get back as soon as
she
can," said Amalia Martinez, senior clerk at the Alemany Farmers'
Market,
where Jones has played for more than a decade. "She brings so much to
the
farmers' market. She brings happiness to everyone who sees her. Not
only
adults like to listen to her, but children have fun, too."
She made the Bay Guardian's Best of the Bay honors twice, in 2001
for
"best and freest song and dance routine" and in 2003 for "best free act
with strings attached."
But the farmers' market is only a footnote to Jones' musical career.
Since
she arrived in San Francisco in March 1952 from New Orleans, Jones has
played music continuously, in dance bands, bar bands, Latin bands,
Russian
bands, stage bands, gay bands, Hawaiian bands, country bands and even
with
the legendary Cockettes. She's played at county fairs and strip shows
and
everywhere in between.
"The bottom line for Jackie has always been the music. It's always
been
the most important thing in her life," said musician Pauline Scholten,
a
friend of Jones'. "It's her passion, it's what energizes her."
Jones said that once her thumb heals, both from arthritis and the
resulting surgery, she plans to keep playing into her 80s. Retirement
is
not even in her vocabulary.
"I love playing music. I love the people. I feel that I'm
communicating
with people," she said during a recent interview near her Bernal
Heights
home. "Ordinarily you have to go through so many hoops to communicate
with
people, but with music it's immediate. I never want to stop."
Jones is not enjoying her time off. She's so antsy to start playing
again
she's trying to rig a child-size record-player, on 78 speed, to strum a
guitar so she can play the chords with her good hand. She also bought
29
CDs to learn some new material for when she returns.
"I will be back playing as soon as I can lift my dancing cat," she
said.
"I'm missing it a whole lot right now. It's not about the money. I miss
those people, all the mothers and kids and all that. I miss the
atmosphere."
Many of her fans would be surprised to learn that Jones, who's
usually
seen at the farmers' market in jeans and a flannel shirt, started out
life
as a would-be Southern belle. She comes from a "repressive Southern
family," she said, where her stepfather was in the Navy, her mother was
named after a Civil War admiral and her grandmother was a member of
United
Daughters of the Confederacy.
Jones spent her childhood in Pensacola, Fla., and New Orleans, where
her
parents became so desperate to "make a lady" of her they sent her to
the
Ursuline nun convent school. The nuns didn't have much luck, however.
Jones was kicked out at age 13 for stealing a cigarette from a priest
and
smoking it in the bathroom, emerging triumphantly in a cloud of smoke
and
pair of sunglasses.
From there she went to public school, and in her final year she got
an
accordion and taught herself to play. Knowing "only three tunes, all in
the key of C," she'd wander up and down Bourbon Street trying to sit in
with the bands there.
Finally she found a group that played cowboy music and let her join,
earning $3 a night. She was a quick study, and learned how to play just
by
watching them, and then branched out to other Bourbon Street bands.
Then,
at age 28, she started looking for work as a professional musician.
Reading want ads, she deduced that San Francisco and Los Angeles had
the
best opportunities for women. She tried L.A. first, hated it, and
headed
north.
San Francisco was an immediate hit.
"I loved it because every person on the street looked different,"
she
said. "I found work right away, and a place to live. Everything fell
into
place and I never left.
"I knew this is where I had to stay," she added. "I'd be tarred and
feathered if I ever went back to Pensacola."
She held a series of odd jobs, mostly assembly-line work, but worked
steadily as a musician at a time when women, let alone single,
tomboyish
women, had a hard time finding work that wasn't secretarial. Her
longest
stint was 10 years sorting mail at the U.S. Post Office's Rincon Annex.
She saved enough to buy a house, which she paid for in cash in the
early
1970s.
Independent, determined and pragmatic, Jones forged a music career
against
enormous odds. When a Latin band asked that she wear a sexy off-the-
shoulder dress, she did it. When the Santa Clara County Fair wanted her
to
wear a purple-and-green floral gown, she did. When she needed to learn
Russian tangos, she did. She learned every instrument and was willing
to
work any venue. Among her more memorable gigs was playing drums with
the
Cockettes, the rowdy midnight drag revue memorialized in a documentary
in
2002.
"It was fun. But I was always afraid the audience was going to jump
onstage and kill us," she said.
At the time, Jones lived in a boarding house with such future stars
as
actor Morgan Freeman and Navajo artist R.C. Gorman. She still keeps in
touch with people who were involved with the Cockettes, such as Peter
Mintun.
Jones' primary talents may be musical, but beneath her creative
impulses
she has a scientific, inquisitive mind. She earned a bachelor's degree
in
physical science from San Francisco State in 1962, and later went back
to
City College of San Francisco to study electronics and electronic
music.
Combining her scientific knowledge with music, Jones has created a
host of
new instruments, including the homemade guitar she plays at the
farmers'
market. It combines a washboard, painted red, with a Fender neck to
create
a unique sound. She has also made a xylophone out of cat food cans,
among
other inventions.
Among her trademark inventions is a pink dancing cat, which she
carved out
of wood and affixed with metal discs on its feet. Rigged to springs,
cords
and a foot pedal, the cat tap-dances on a wooden platform to produce a
lively backbeat for Jones' performance. She controls it with a foot
pedal,
which she operates while she's playing the saw, guitar or other
instrument.
Kids are transfixed by the dancing cat, and often crowd around at
the
farmers' market to watch it skip and hop in perfect time to Jones'
swinging 1920s tunes.
"I have to do what someone else is not doing," Jones said. "No one's
going
to want to stand there and watch just me. So I have to give them
something
interesting to look at. Otherwise you lose them."
Jones' love of novelty extends to her musical taste. Although she
can play
anything, these days she's interested in the early 20th century pop
songs,
which she described as "happy, positive, danceable. Kids like it, older
people like it. There's a lot of good stuff from then. It's a very
creative medium."
Using her electronics background, she's come up with a way to give
these
songs the full band treatment. She has recorded herself playing all the
instruments -- drums, banjo, accordion, bass, among others --
essentially
becoming her own backup band. She plays the recordings and saves the
saw
and guitar parts to play live.
Although she's never had formal training, she can play just about
any
instrument and learn any song just by watching and listening to others.
"She has a phenomenal musical mind," said her friend Pauline
Scholten.
"She's not flashy, but she never makes mistakes, she's got good rhythm,
good swing and a wonderful musical brain."
Another longtime friend, Sally Gearhart of Mendocino County, called
Jones
"a musical genius, mostly unsung."
"She was part of that whole wonderful music scene in the '50s, when
San
Francisco was just rocking," Gearhart said. "She's a wonderful spirit,
full of life and good-hearted fun. I've never seen anyone give such joy
to
spectators. I can't think of anyone in San Francisco whom the world
needs
more of."
"People use music in different ways," Jones said. "People who like
rock
have a physical response to it. They like to jump around to it, not
listen
so much. Course, I don't mind if they jump around to my music, too, but
I'd like to give them something to listen too, as well."
She thought about that for a moment, then added, "I'm just glad they
like
me."
posted by:
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Austin
|
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