The saxophone player on the Jackson Street Bridge — Part 3
Going on the road and starting a family
This is the third part of the series telling Jacque Williams’ story, a street musician in Chicago. To read about Jacque’s early life and start in music read part 1 and part 2.
1973 The first time I went on the road
The very first time I went out on the road with a band I was 17.
The band I went with was called the “Concepts.” We were a really hot band and played all kinds of music, we was just like a Disk Jockey: Whatever you wanted to hear, we could play it for you.
Eventually we got hooked up with a guy that was supposed to be an agent — but turned out to be a con man — whose name was Jones Clark. The first time our band hit the road he baited us by having us play the army base in Kansas City, Missouri for two weeks. The gig turned out to be good, and the pay was right.
After that gig, two to three weeks went past, and he played us with another trip. The gig was supposed to be thirty days on the army base which sounded good to us. We had been playing out there in Missouri for two weeks and it was time for payday. But there was no payday, the alleged manager, the con man Jones Clark, gave us all these BS reasons for not being paid. I had to put my amp in the pawnshop to pay for food and the motel bill. Fortunately the sax was loud enough I didn’t need to use an amp to play. This guy always had an excuse for why we weren’t being paid. Things got so bad for the band we started stealing out of stores to eat.
Finally I had enough and called my mother for help, and she bought me a bus ticket to get home. That was a bad situation, but that was the way this con artist operated. After that I had to be real careful about whom I played and dealt with. That really taught me to watch out for con men.
The Gents
Since I was 17 years of age, I knew I wanted to be a professional saxophone player. I never knew if I was going to be good or not, but it turned out that — in my opinion — I was one of the best saxophone players in Chicago.
I joined a number of bands as a pick-up musician. I played in many different kinds of bands from Rock and Roll to Jazz. The pay started off really small but it started getting better and better. By the time I was 19 I was making some real good money where I could take good care of myself.
One of the bands that I was with went from city to city and I was making around $300 a week, working three or four nights a week. For a young kid that was a lot and I didn’t have to depend on my mom to buy me things anymore.
In 1977 when I was 21, I joined a band called the Gents. The Gents were a big band that played for all kinds of rich parties. The rich Jewish people paid extremely well, and still pay well. We played for all kinds of Jewish parties, bar mitzvahs and weddings. The parties were so rich and lavish most black people at the time couldn’t afford such parties.
It would have been so nice for me to give one of my kids a party, but it just wasn’t in my budget. If I ever got enough money to do so, I would be one of the happiest men walking on God’s green earth. I have six children, and 25 grandchildren. If I could just give one big party for all of them at once I would be happy.
I played with the Gents for about eighteen years. I would also play on the street during the day. My manager used to ask me why I was panhandling on the street while I was playing with the band. I told him that I enjoyed playing on the street, and the money was good and was helpful to my growing family.
Getting married
I met my future wife in 1976 when I was 20 years old. I met her when my band was playing a show at Northwestern University. Her name is Betty, and we dated for about one year, then we got married. During that time she always went to the shows of the band but never went when I played on the street. The band was really good and we did a lot of shows.
Ms. Saddlewhite
When I lived with my mother, we had a larger unit with three bedrooms, a living room, and one bathroom that had to accommodate my mother and nine kids. We lived on the ninth floor and a lot of the time the elevators weren’t working and we had to walk up the stairs. People wouldn’t take their garbage down the stairs but just put it down the elevator shaft, or just leave it in the hallway. It seemed like the superintendent for the building couldn’t keep with all the repairs. Our bathroom and kitchen faucets needed new washers so you could never fully shut them off, and they were always dripping. There was always the gang activity and shootings, although it was not as bad as it is today.
When my wife and I moved out of the projects, we moved into a small apartment in a private apartment building. The rent had to be paid once a month to the landlord, Ms. Salddlewhite. She was a real Church-going lady and very religious. Shortly after we moved into our apartment, and after I got to know her, Ms. Saddlewhite asked me if I ever ask the Lord for anything. I replied that I never had. She said, “that’s why you have nothing.”
I thought about it, and considered that she was right because I didn’t have anything. I started praying and asking the Lord for the things I really needed. After that I started getting answers to prayer. One of the things I prayed for was a new sax, which seemed to come in no time. The work of the lord is awesome. The most awesome I’ve ever seen. God is good and so is the Glory, Amen.
After that I started to try and find a church to join, because I really needed spiritual guidance to teach me the good book. Some people get it right off the top, but not me. But I’m willing to do whatever it takes to get it.
Ms. Saddlewhite was like a mother to me. She kept me on the straight and narrow, and out of trouble. When things got rough for me and I was in a jam, she would help me out of it sometimes. She taught me I couldn’t count on other people, as well as women, by asking for money all the time. Her belief was that men should not ask woman for money. Sometimes it was fine, but not all the time. If you abused their help, you would wear out your welcome, and people would hate to see you coming.
Working at Michael Reese
Around 1976, after looking for a full-time job during the day, I was sitting in the house and my phone rang and it was Michael Reese Hospital asking me if I still was looking for work. I indicated I was and was hired.
At that time I was 21 years old and got my first full time job at Michael Reese Hospital. I worked there for ten years.
I started working in the Hospital dietary food department. The starting pay was $3.74 an hour, which was a lot of money at that time. One of my jobs was to take what we called food trucks to the different floors so the nurse’s aides could deliver the food trays to the patients. I would then pick up the trucks and trays from the different floors and return them to the kitchen. I would then thoroughly clean everything so they were ready for the next meal. It was a fun job that I really enjoyed.
I worked there ten years until I was 31. Because of hospital cutbacks I was laid off in 1986. With no steady income, I started playing the saxophone full time with the band at night. During the time I was laid off, the hospital called me and offered to give me my same job back at a pay cut. They offered to pay me $5.35 per hour down from what I was making at $10.00 per hour for the same job. I declined and started looking for another job.
Bookkeeping school
After getting laid off in 1986 at Michael Reece Hospital I decided to go back to school. I enrolled in the “The American Business Institute” for computerized bookkeeping. It was a two-year course. In two years I finished my studies and received my degree.
I got a job at The First National Bank in Chicago. My job was bookkeeping for the Bond and Coupon Department. It was a really good job and paid well. National Bank, at the time, was the only bank in the Midwest that processed stock and bonds. After two years, Chase Bank of New York bought the bank out. When Chase bought The First National Bank, everyone in our department was offered jobs, but we would have to move to New York to work. I couldn’t afford to move my family to New York so I had to find another job.
Playing sax on the Street
I started playing my saxophone on the streets of Chicago at the “Taste of Chicago.” I first started when a friend of mine suggested I play my horn on the street. He had seen a man playing on the street in Chinatown and appeared to be making a lot of money.
When I first tried to play on the street, I didn’t have any luck at all so I stopped. It took me a couple of years before I tried it again. The next time I tried, I went with a couple of friends after I saw how much money they were making. I started playing on the street seriously in 1992. At that time you could make good money, but as the economy slowed, it was hard to make a decent living.
Playing music on the streets in downtown Chicago came with a lot of harassment from the police. Starting out, I would play every day on Michigan Avenue. Many times, People who worked in the area would call the police because they didn’t want us playing in front of their stores.
The first time the police showed up, I was asked for my permit, which I didn’t have. If you didn’t have a permit, you were likely to get a ticket or just a warning. When I started the permits were $5, now the permits cost $100 and it’s a lot harder to make money. Having to pay the tickets cut into what I could make. It depended on which cop you were dealing with. There were some really good cops that would give you a break and tell you to move on, realizing you were just trying to make a living. There were others that would put you in jail in a heartbeat for not having a permit.
Over the years I have been to jail about ten times for not having a permit. When I was locked up for not having a permit, it was always the same two police officers: Norman and May. They knew everybody who was somebody that was not doing anything bad enough to be locked up. I got the feeling that they didn’t have anything better to do so they thought they would go mess with Jacque. All the police I met on the street playing were veterans on the force. Norman and May worked their twenty years and are now retired. Before they retired it turned out that we became friends.
One of the police officers I met on Michigan Avenue was a guy named Smith. He was a black officer. When I first met him, I didn’t know he was a cop, because he was in plain clothes. He came up and asked if I had a permit. I questioned why he needed to know and he responded in no uncertain terms saying, “I’m the law around here and I want to know if you have a permit.” I felt like a fool for getting smart with the police. I told him I was sorry because he didn’t show me a badge first and I didn’t know he was a cop. He told me to go to City Hall and get a permit and then come back and play. I came back and thanked Smith for making me get a permit. He never locked me up when there was a complaint by a storeowner but just asked me to move on. Over time I became friends with Officer Smith. A few years later Smith passed away from cancer, It was really sad because he was a really nice guy.
I don’t play on Michigan Avenue anymore, but I think if I did I would have no problem because I am now much older. It seems like they don’t mess with old men. There are also a lot of young police officers that are very respectful of what we’re doing. I think that they appreciate that we need the money to pay bills and buy food for our families. They however didn’t like the people holding signs and shaking a cup year after year. A lot of these people have drug problems and have no interest in finding a job or doing something productive.
