March 4th, 2019
 

Sometimes history has a way of just slapping you right in the face.  Time passes so swiftly and relentlessly that we can hardly register it.  Weeks slip into months and months into years.  Sometimes the most constant things in our lives we begin to take for granted and assume it will always be there.  But life has a way of reminding us that everything is temporary - nothing and nobody is exempt.  I am thinking of my friend and partner Mitch Borden who has announced his retirement from Smalls.  It's hit me like a bombshell.  I've gone through the usual stages of mourning: denial, anger, sadness and... acceptance.  What else can one do but accept life as it is dished out to you? This is a big one, though.  Mitch, the founder and spiritual guide for Smalls Jazz Club has been a ubiquitous figure, always present and available.  Mitch was the master tinkerer - ice machine not working?  No problem.  Beer line is jammed, no worries.  Equipment failure on stage - no issue.  As long as Mitch was there the problem would be solved in his unique and original way.  Sometimes just so cockamamy that you think "how ridiculous" and yet, like the chewing gum and bandaides that Charlie Parker used to fix his horn, so was Mitch with Smalls.  He got it to work no matter what.

Mitch believed in me for some reason.  Even in the earliest days of Smalls he seemed to trust me and give me his help.  Once his loaned me $4000 for a piano which I paid off by playing my weekly late night gig.  Mitch is a philosopher and artist mind and I could always go to him for guidance.  I could ask him about the impending snowstorm - should we close? (Always NO).  I could ask him why we were having such a slow night (he knew the contours of the year intimately and could always suss out when the busy times were coming).  He was might right-hand man with strong opinions about the music and musicians.  Often he would softly suggest that some really terrible cat would never get another chance at Smalls.  He was particular as to whom he liked and disliked.  He'd let me know and I would be the "bad cop" but his opinion was gold.  We shaped our "credos" together - the spiritual rules we followed in operating our club.  Dedication to Jazz Music was paramount then to the culture of New York and Greenwich Village.  He was (as am I) a firm believer that New York City is still great and that Jazz is still alive and that it's spiritual food for the masses.  Mitch was a healer and a nurse.  Animals came to him for comfort, cats, dogs and even a pigeon would find it's way to Smalls tp be healed.  Old homeless musicians and derelicts could always find a place and a few dollars at Smalls if need be.  We became a community center, a hospital and and a haven all through the guidance of this quiet and gentle man.  Mitch Borden is an unsung hero - his impact on this music is barely understood except by a handful of insiders.

This year is the 25th anniversary of Smalls.  For 25 years Smalls has run under Mitch's kind guidance.  But now life has changed, Mitch has changed and so has Smalls.  It's his time to go.  I've begged him, pleaded and cried but there's no changing his mind.  I can only feel the gratitude that I feel and wipe away my tears.  I bid farewell to my dear friend and face an uncertain future.  It is lonely and scary and I fear for the future of our clubs in this hostile environment.  But we are committed to continuing his legacy.  I am committed to continuing his credos and ethics and see how long we can make Smalls last.  This is indeed uncharted territory for me and the clubs.  It's exhausting and draining.  How to fill a void so big - it seems impossible.

Thank you, thank you, thank you Mitch Borden.  My heart is broken but I wish you nothing but the greatest blessings, health and happiness.  You deserve it.  You have given far more than anyone I know in this field - no one comes close.  I will continue your message and try my best to keep the music flowing in our basements.

My love to all the fans, supporters and musicians.

Spike