The Big Band in the Sky Has a New Precussionist

I really don’t mean for this to be a Hurricane Katrina blog. But as a lifelong New Orleanian, I can’t really help it right now. I go on with my daily life but Katrina looms in the shadows, continuing to make her presence known from time to time.

For example, today I read something that made me take pause in my new life in D.C. In New Orleans there is, of course, Pat O’Brien’s, a world famous location in the French Quarter for libation and merriment for generations. Most who have been to the French Quarter, either as tourists, conventioneers or locals, have been to Pat O’Brien’s, home of the world famous New Orleans Hurricane beverage. The drink is aptly named because it will wipe you out. The bar's motto is simply "Have Fun!"

Somewhat less famous than the Hurricane drink, however, was the ever-lively Eddie Gabriel. For the last 67 years, the kind, music-loving, slight-of-build, black man entertained the crowds within the very popular piano bar portion of “Pat O’s.” He never failed to delight with his fingernail tapping on the bottom of a metal serving tray. Always smiling, always on-time and perhaps more “Pat O’s” than the Hurricane itself was Mr. Eddie. He was just there; you didn’t really even think about it, but he always made the piano bar a better experience with his mere presence. His years as a musician and his undeniable New Orleans flavor made the incessant tourist-requests for “Piano Man” bearable- he gave credibility to the place no matter how many middle-managers from the Mid-West filled the joint.

I read today that Mr. Eddie Gabriel was a casualty of Hurricane Katrina. Yes, at 95, the man was old and probably not much longer for this earth anyway. But Eddie Gabriel worked the night before the hurricane. He was still working and who knows how long he would have continued to provide his unique presence to Pat O’Brien’s. After the piano bar closed that last night, Gabriel returned to his home to ride out Katrina. His long ride as a fixture of New Orleans came to an end during the storm, as he drowned in the rising flood waters. It wasn’t until just before Christmas that the morgue finally made a DNA match.

Like much of New Orleans, Mr. Eddie is just a memory now. In my mind I can see his smile and hear his signature fingernail-tapping on that metal tray- knees bent, face full of delight. And like much of New Orleans, I don’t think we realized what we had until it’s gone. Sure, these things were old, but they were working, and working in a way that, like Mr. Eddie Gabriel, was so often unique and wonderful. And who knows how long they would have continued working and bringing joy to tourists, conventioneers and locals alike. But we will never know, and this, too, will pass. Rest in peace Mr. Eddie.


If you want to read more about him, check this story out from 1997.
http://www.patobriens.com/pressrelease8-26.html