A Swinging Tribute to Music Society Founder

It was pretty much a family affair at Sunday’s 25th anniversary and tribute to the founder/owner of the Bach Dancing and Dynamite Society, held in this beachside community 30 miles south of San Francisco.

Many of the 300 people gathered at the Douglas Beach House, located on an oceanfront stretch of the Miramar section of Half Moon Bay, either knew or were acquainted with the 61-year-old Pete Douglas, who has been holding music sessions in various rooms of his rustic-yet-modern home on Sundays since 1958, at first by invitation only.

He opened the establishment to the public in the mid-’60s, under the nonprofit Bach Dancing and Dynamite Society name and has since hosted some jazz’s biggest names--Bill Evans, Dizzy Gillespie, Art Blakey and Horace Silver, among them.

Douglas has also presented such classical artists as the Kronos String Quartet, Chicago’s Pro Musica and members of the Juilliard and Guarneri String Quartets in Saturday evening Candlelight concerts.

The society is a truly one-of-a-kind establishment, where music lovers come to hear some of their favorite artists in a beautiful seaside setting that is probably unrivaled for intimacy and scenic beauty. Guests and musicians at Sunday’s party came from as far away as Sebastopol in the north and Los Angeles in the south to bask in Douglas’ unique ambiance.

Douglas spent most of the early afternoon greeting musicians--more than a few of whom had played the society--friends and guests who had arrived for the 4-10 p.m. bash. The show included Los Angeles-based alto saxophonist Pat Britt’s Dirty Dozen big band, with trumpeter Jack Sheldon and saxophonist Red Holloway and vibist Bobby Hutcherson.

Familiar faces brought back a lot of old memories. “I’m glad to see so many of you are still alive,” quipped Douglas to his contemporary, pianist Ed Wetteland, father of L.A. Dodger pitcher John Wetteland and a participant at sessions in Douglas’ original home, a three-room ex-beer joint, in the late ‘50s.

Two major improvements were added later, increasing the area to about 4,800 square feet, with a concert hall that seats about 250.

Britt’s appearance at Sunday’s bash was an essential element. Douglas was Britt’s probation officer after he was arrested for stealing a package of luncheon meat, and the tall reedman was the first musician to play at Douglas’.

“He called me up one night in the summer of 1958 and told me he was bringing a band down, and that started it all,” Douglas recollected.

As showtime approached, people lined up, waiting patiently in the nippy ocean breeze for admission into Douglas’s concert hall. Many, like Carlotta and Phil Bentley of Menlo Park, had been to the society “uncounted times.”

“We’re some of the originals,” Carlotta Bentley said. “We came before the newest section, and heard people like (the late pianist) Vince Guaraldi. We’ve always liked the laid-back atmosphere.”

For Douglas, things this Sunday weren’t always so laid-back. At about 4:30 p.m., the concert hall was jammed with more than 250 people sitting on straight-backed chairs, on benches in the loft or standing. And Britt’s band had yet to start.

Standing in the musicians’ lounge and looking at his watch, Douglas chided Britt: “Can we socialize later and start the show now?”

Britt, who usually plays Sunday at the Cat and Fiddle Pub in Hollywood, gathered his troops, and was set to go about 15 minutes later.

“OK, we’re going to tune up, and then play something,” Britt went on, and signaled to his colleagues, who proceeded to honk, squeal, whistle and whine on their instruments until he gave them a nod. They stopped and with another nod from the leader, roared off into an outrageously fast version of Eddie (Cleanhead) Vinson’s “Tune Up,” where drummer Clarence Johnston provided an in-the-pocket time feel and tenorist Wilbur Brownspewed out fleet-fingered ideas over the speeding background.

Douglas could be seen at the back of his room, pipe ever at hand, digging Britt’s band. A bubbling blues, “Bump and Run,” led to Lee Morgan’s buoyant “Mr. Kenyatta” and a laden-with-wit vocal blues from Jack Sheldon.

As the event drew to a close, Douglas philosophized. “This is like a crazy cocktail party and I really don’t like a party atmosphere for jazz,” he said. “It’s like a festival, and I feel jazz festivals have partly ruined jazz. Usually the place is a cross between a nightclub and a concert setting, and in that situation, there have been times when I really connected with the music.”