Sonny Rollins
1930-2026
Photographer unknown
Well, the way I heard it, Sonny, in one of his fairly strange years in the 60s, was playing a gig in Queens and walking around the club as he played, as was his wont in those days—I well remember him stepping on my foot once at the Five Spot (oh yes, I’ve been around). On a well-witnessed night, Sonny marched around the club and then up the stairs to the street, playing all the while. About ten people from the club followed him as he played to the traffic and kept walking, taking a turn into a residential neighborhood, keeping the tune going and himself on the march until he came to a regulation-looking house, came to a halt and played to the house until John and Alice Coltrane came out, waved, and called “Hello, Sonny.” Mr. Rollins serenaded them for a few minutes, then about-faced and marched back into the club—he’d been away for maybe twenty minutes—where something extraordinary finally happened. Wait for it. Sonny Rollins lost his temper. Take a breath and stop reading while you wonder why. Okay: he lost his temper because the rhythm section had stopped playing the tune . . . I’m not making this up.
—Rafi Zabor, Facebook post, May, 2026
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The climax of Celebrate Brooklyn!’s Celebrate Ornette tribute in Prospect Park June 12, 2014, was supposed to come when the two 1930-born saxophone legends, Ornette Coleman and Sonny Rollins, would stroll if not strut in to join the “Lonely Woman” encore and prove their unvanquished puissance. But instead the climax came early.
Before a note was played, engineer turned emcee Gregg Mann and Ornette’s son Denardo Coleman, his drummer at 10 and his manager for thirty years, called Rollins out. Rollins didn’t strut—he had a helper. His voice was shaky. But he knew what he wanted to say: “Ornette has changed so much in music, in politics, and in human relations between people,” and also: “I’m going to say something that Ornette already said to me. It’s all good. Don’t worry about nothing.” Enter Ornette with the same helper. “All I want to do is cry. It’s so beautiful to see so many people who know what life is. I want to be alive when I’m alive.” The two men kissed each other’s hands and were led off. The crowd cheered wildly because it didn’t want to cry.
—Robert Christgau, Billboard, June 2014
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