Chapter 3: August 11, 2002

Visited Shooby for a couple of hours with my buddy Jeff Winner. This time, the front desk didn't confiscate our equipment -- or even ask to see it. They let us go upstairs with unchecked bags.

Found Shooby in bed, under headphones attached to a Walkman, listening to a tape of himself. From a prone position, he welcomed us brashly with handshakes, while keeping the headphones on. He'd been to church that morning.

He told us that he'd taken a fall recently and hurt himself. He remained in bed on his back while conversing.

Recorded him on DAT for about 45 minutes. Mostly autobiography. He rambled, wasn't very focused.

"When I lived in Harlem, I used to go down to Battery Park and scat -- to anyone who would listen, but mostly for myself. Summer and winter. For winter, I'd wear long johns. They had a McDonald's and a deli nearby, and they got to know me. During winter, I'd get warmed up, get a sandwich, then I'd come back out and scat til I got cold again."

More: "I don't love Jersey. The reason I moved to New Jersey was, I used to stay at the Robert Treat Hotel [in downtown Newark] under the name 'William H. Taylor.' I gave the proprietor a sample of my music, and he was intrigued. He said, 'What kind of language is that?' I said, 'It's scat! Something I feel, something I can do'."

Said he'd recorded in at least two studios, but couldn't remember their names. Wasn't sure if Angel Sound was one of them.

Gave Taylor a print of a beautiful 8"x10" of himself, beaming a big smile, sitting in his wheelchair in the courtyard outside his Newark apartment building, with the American flag waving nearby. Asked him to autograph ten copies of that pic. He sat up to do so, but it was a painstaking routine, requiring two minutes to sign his name to each photo (about 20 minutes total). Jeff held the photos in place, while I spoke to staff at the third floor front desk.

Gave Shooby a CDR of three songs from the cassette I'd borrowed. The jewel case was adorned with a photo taken in his apartment last visit.

He offered to lend two more tapes -- including the one he refused to part with last time -- in exchange for the one returned. However, he'd given the second tape to the downstairs daytime receptionist (Gloria MacMurray), who, by the time I went looking for her, had left for the day. The second shift receptionist called MacMurray at home, and MacMurray said she had the tape ("Got it right here. It says 'Scooby' [sic] Taylor."). She offered it to me in the interest of preserving Taylor's work, and said to drive by her apartment in East Orange afterwards to pick it up.

We listened to a tape. Some great stuff -- a weird country song, jazz jams with an organist (he couldn't remember who -- turned out to be Charles Earland), a great scat workout with his hero Babs Gonzales, a male-female vocal duet, many more country tunes, some gospel, and a funky Miles Davis number. Very good audio fidelity.

Shooby re-emphasized, "I was a fornicator. But I was a good fornicator." (Jeff later observed that it adds new meaning to "The Human Horn.") Shooby again stressed that he doesn't do that kind of thing anymore.

Made plans to visit him on Friday August 30 with filmmaker Doug Stone. Shooby told us he has dialysis treatment on Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday. I also expressed my hope to bring him down to WFMU for an on-air interview later in the month.

After our visit, Jeff and I drove to East Orange to pick up the second tape at MacMurray's. She said she didn't need it back, and that we should "give it to Mr. Taylor." Very nice lady.