Saved by a force stronger than fate

The Sunday edition of The Express-News had a lovely story by Michael Corcoran about the jazz trombonist Jack Teagarden.

At 17, Teagarden came to town to play at the Horn Palace Inn. It was 1921. Prohibition was the law of the land, although some communities, including San Antonio and Galveston, had reputations for accommodating those who enjoyed a drink.

The inn was owned by a former police officer named Billy Keilman. Gangsters came looking for him and, while the band played, shot him twice. Keilman survived.

All the musicians had the sense to dive for cover except Teagarden, a kid from Vernon who stared in slack-jaw wonder at the ways of the Big City.

The kid got a grown-up subpoena from the district attorney saying his testimony was required. The gangsters sent word that any testimony would be frowned upon.

While Teagarden was considering the dilemma, he was saved by a force stronger than fate: the Texas weather.

On Sept. 9, San Antonio experienced rains that produced a flood. Residents still point out the high-water mark on the Gunter Hotel, just as Galveston residents point to the flood line at the Mod Coffeehouse on Postoffice Street.

The courthouse flooded. Records were lost. The case dissolved, and Teagarden headed to Houston, where he joined “Peck” Kelley’s band, which had a standing job at a place on Galveston Bay.

All kinds of characters end up on Galveston Bay for one reason or another. I ended up there for a while. But that’s another story.

Corcoran based his story on an essay by Jim Cullum Jr., a cornet player, bandleader and jazz historian, who died in 2019. Years ago, when I was working in Galveston, I began coming to San Antonio on days off. I’d make it a point to hear Cullum play. He had a place called The Landing on the River Walk, and later played at the Gunter. The last time I heard him was at the Cookhouse, 720 Mistletoe Ave., which is a good place to eat.