…[I]n the days before they closed The District [in 1917, New Orleans] the most exciting form of musical entertainment (aggregation) was not the jazz bands but the brass bands. The bass beat on the bass drum, beautifully executed by Black Benny, would suddenly silence a crowd of some seven or eight thousand loud and boisterous pleasure-seekers. All ears perked up for maybe a minute anxiously awaiting the lead trumpeter to blow the three double-eighth notes, ta-ta, ta-ta, ta-ta, signalling the band members who were scattered nearby, having wandered among the crowd. Characters like Bunk Johnson, Buddy Petit, Kid Rena, Frankie Duson, Chris Kelly, would be in the nearest barroom drinking--jiving some sporting woman and drinking to everybody's health, and ruining his own. The bandmen who didn't indulge would be corralled by groups of admirers and answering questions on the merits and playing abilities of the stars.