The documentary "Bill Evans, Time Remembered," held special meaning for me.
Producer Bruce Spiegel's compelling 90-minute biography of the acclaimed jazz pianist brought back memories of Baton Rouge.
Growing up in Louisiana's capital, I knew Evans' brother, Harry, and his family. Bill and Harry are buried together in Baton Rouge's Roselawn Cemetery.
The brothers studied music at Southeastern Louisiana University in Hammond, La., after abused childhoods in New Jersey.
While Bill moved to New York City for a career as one of the most eminent jazz composers and performers from the 1950s through the 1970s, Harry ran the music program for the Baton Rouge schools.
Harry's wife, Pat, who later became Louisiana's leading advocate for women's rights and a successful manager of political campaigns, began her career hosting a pioneering children's program on my father's TV station.
Also a fine pianist and composer, Harry gave Baton Rouge a glimpse of urban sophistication, performing with his quartet in nightclubs and on TV. His wonderful performances are available on YouTube.
When I first discovered Bill Evans' music, I didn't know that he was Harry's brother, or that I was a high school classmate of his niece, the inspiration for his classic "Waltz for Debby."
Bill Evans, rivaling Duke Ellington, composed ethereal music that transcends jazz. He made a significant contribution to Miles Davis' monumental "Kind of Blue" and recorded a number of classic albums, such as "Sunday at the Village Vanguard."
As "Time Remembered" sadly outlines, Evans created his music while enmeshed in an incurable heroin addiction. Over the years, he suffered homelessness and was unable to perform because of the disease.
According to the film, he often shot up before taking the stage with his quartet. Pictures of Evans hunched over his piano capture the severe pain that accompanied his music.
Harry Evans also battled demons. Suffering from schizophrenia, he took his own life.
Before leaving Baton Rouge, I saw Harry one night in the Capitol House Hotel bar downtown. I'll always be haunted by the sadness of his eyes.
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