Crowded figures play notes in a claustrophobic space, colors stream around them and notes pile into the air they breathe called Jazz. Saturated powerful phrases, the sexy-saxy falling notes, and growling horns compete for all the audience to hear the tremendous feat, a war of horns, piano and bass, not a drop of blood spilled in the whole damned place. Drinks flowed and cigars fumed as guys and dolls danced up the room. Whiskey, beer and champagne flowed through the speak easy all night long. Musicians played and torch singers scorched up some steamy sultry songs.
-E. A. WILLIAMS