In a recent post, I reflected on first hearing the pianist Phineas Newborn Jr. on a childhood road trip. That trip culminated in an exhibition of photographs by Frank Stewart at the Smithsonian, who, it turns out, is Newborn’s stepson.
Stewart, one of the foremost photographers of jazz and of black American culture, possesses a unique perspective on the musician he describes simply as “a genius.” In this interview, he shares memories of his stepfather’s life, from his roots in Memphis and their camaraderie, to the challenges he faced in his career and the complexities of his lasting, under-appreciated legacy.
Q: I wanted to start off this interview talking about Phineas’ name because he pronounced “Fine-as”, no Phineas right?
Frank:
In the South they called him “Fine-as” all his life. My mother was the first one to tell him that it was pronounced Phineas like the circus ringmaster Phineas T. Barnum. So, when he got to New York, he became Phineas.
Q: Can you talk about how your mother met him? How did he become your stepfather?
Frank:
He grew up around the corner from us in Memphis, so he was a friend of my uncle. I think I had an uncle who was the same age and went to grammar school with him. When he was a little boy, he used to bring him over to the house and he would get on the piano and play.
Q: How old were you when you met him?
Frank:
Seven. I was living with my grandmother and great grandmother in Memphis. My mother had gone to New York to pursue her vocations. She was a model, a dancer, a seamstress, an artist. He was there too. Count Basie had brought him up to play opposite him at Birdland. They wanted me to come up and visit, so when I was seven, I came up for a couple of weeks and visited and hung out at Birdland. The original Birdland. Met all the cats. Some of them I was friends with until they passed. People like Al Grey, Snooky Young and of course Count Basie.
Q: What was your relationship with music like at that age? What did you listen to?
Frank:
A year after I visited, when I came up for good, I didn’t really have a relationship with music. I was more athletic. When I came, they were rehearsing We Three in the living room. I befriended Roy Haynes. He was showing things on the drums like flams and paradiddles, how to hold the sticks and everything. But Phineas could play all of that. He could play the trumpet, the vibraphones and of course he could play the piano. But it was all a different language for me, and it was a language that didn’t come easy. Playing football and running track is what came easy. My mother wanted me to be a piano player, and I kept telling her, “Look, this doesn’t come easy. It’s not something I really want to do.” And she would say, “But you could be a session man.” I always thought, “Why would I want to be a second fiddle individual when I was on all these first teams in the schools.” So, that was a bone of contention. But not too long. The family didn’t stay together but for three years.
But me and Phineas, we stayed in contact his whole life. And when he would come up to New York he would stay with me when I was grown. I would take him around his gigs and meet other musicians where they were playing. One time there was a club called Lush Life down on Bleecker and Ahmad Jamal was playing there. Ahmad Jamal was one of the first ones to take me on the road, so we were friends too. They played together when they were sixteen. So, he was happy to see Phineas, “Oh you brought him here to see me?”
It would be that type of thing whenever he would come. He just loved being here. He didn’t talk much. I think there’s an interview with him on Marian McPartland’s show Piano Jazz. If you could get that you could hear him talk.
Q: What kind of person was Phineas? What was he like?
Frank:
Well, he had problems. He had emotional problems. He was schizophrenic but undiagnosed. He was just trying to deal with being who he was. He would have nervous breakdowns. He would be in the asylums sometimes then he would come out. He was quiet and stayed to himself. He didn’t do a whole lot of going around to places. When he stayed with his mother, he was just with his mother for years until he died.
Q: How were your relations with him as a kid?
Frank:
The thing was, he was a prodigy. So, he was always working when he was a little boy, and he never got to be a little boy. When I came, he became a little boy with me. We would go and play Cowboys and Indians in the toy store and people looked at us like we were crazy. He knew that I liked to swim. I was a swimmer back in the day. There was a large indoor saltwater pool. The largest in America. It was at a hotel in Brooklyn called the Hotel St. George. Nice art Deco. And it was open 24 hours. We would go there after gigs like at the Vanguard. We’d get off at like 2 in the morning and we’d go take a cab to the St. George Hotel and go swimming. Whatever we wanted to do, we would do! We were little boys together.
He didn’t like too many people. The other person he liked in New York was Jamil Nasser. He came up with Phineas in the group that played opposite Count Basie at Birdland. He was the bass player. He also played with Ahmad Jamal for years. Jamil and Frank Gant, that was his trio. When I started working with Ahmad, Jamil was there. Jamil was always like an uncle since we were all from Memphis.
Q: When you were younger did you ever hear him practicing around the house? What was that like for you?
Frank:
All the time. He practiced Bach Fugues. That’s what he practiced to get that left hand and right hand together. Those double octaves. We lived in a house that had musicians in it. His brother and father lived in the basement. Upstairs there was Jerome Richardson. He was Quincy’s main man in his orchestra and his band all the time. Quincy lived on 92nd street in the same building Benny Golson lived in. Quincy and Jerome would listen to Phineas practice through the fireplace that connected our two apartments. You know Phineas was a genius. If you never knew what a genius was, this cat was a genius.
Q: In terms of critical reception, it seems like Phineas was underappreciated when he was alive.
Frank:
Well, you know, they’d say things like he couldn’t play the blues. But how could you come from Memphis and not play the blues? That’s crazy. This cat was a genius. Just to be able to put all of that together on the piano. You know what’s involved with that. Jamil said he took the complexity out of playing the piano.
Q: Are there any other memories of him that you would like to speak about?
Frank:
He was a gentle cat. Never really saw him angry. He had small hands, but the ends of fingers looked like mallets. That’s about it. For the rest you just have to listen to him. I think everything else that you want to know about him are in the notes he played.