The Last Jazz of Manhattan
The Last Jazz of Manhattan The piano in the basement bar on West Forty-Seventh Street did not belong there. It was a Baldwin upright, scarred and yellowed, with three keys that stuck and a pedal that squeaked like a frightened mouse. But when Jack Morrisey sat down at it on a Tuesday in October 1925, the instrument forgot its flaws and became something else entirely—something that sounded like...
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