One day 14 years ago I became a jazz fan for life. I was a newspaper reporter in Idaho, and was paid so poorly that I supplemented my income by delivering pizza in my pickup truck on weekends.
The good part about it was that I had a good stereo, and could pick up a good public radio station out of Salt Lake City, KUER, that played a lot of jazz.
Someone got a cold pizza one day because of Charles Lloyd.
. . .
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