Chicago jazz pianist John Wright earned his reputation with a string of LPs for the Prestige label in the early 60s—his 1960 debut made such an impression that its title, South Side Soul, remains his nickname to this day. His discography has been sparse since then, but he’s never stopped playing for long, and he’s just had an especially eventful week. On Friday, August 29, Wright spoke at the ceremony to formally designate the 3800 block of South Prairie “Dinah Washington Way,” reminiscing about his interactions with the great singer in the 1950s. Two days later, he hosted the 28th annual (and possibly final) Wright Gathering, a potluck picnic in the park behind his home in south-suburban Matteson where hundreds of friends, family, and fans enjoyed eight hours of jazz jams, the first three sets led by Wright himself. (He turned 80 on September 7, so it doubled as an early birthday party.) And on Tuesday, August 26, Wright helped kick off the Chicago Jazz Festival with a show at PianoForte Studios. You wouldn’t have known it to watch him in play in the park less than a week later, but the PianoForte show was his first public concert in three years—he’s been recovering from a series of heart surgeries. That virtuoso performance ended with Wright, who lost his eyesight in 2004, being led from the piano in tears.
At age 12, Wright fell under the spell of a neighborhood Baptist choir—its gospel music was far livelier than Pentecostal hymns. With his mother’s permission, he began playing piano for that congregation’s youth choir; after the organist was drafted, he became the church’s principal accompanist. Blues and jazz were banned in the Wright household, as were movies, checkers, cards, and records of any kind. But Wright characterizes his childhood as happy and full. He played baseball and sneaked into Comiskey Park to watch games from atop the dugout (as an adult he’d be invited to sit in on the Comiskey organ), and he remembers having Boy Scout meetings in the same church where Thomas Dorsey was rehearsing his choir.
During his set Wright’s style shifted gears between sumptuous excess (the kind of thing you’d expect from someone who came of age when Liberace was the Justin Bieber of the day) and the soulful swing that comes naturally to a pianist who cut his teeth alongside the planet’s greatest blues and bop musicians. Whenever I asked anyone to describe Wright’s playing, the word “soul” always seemed to come up. “He has a lot of soul and drive,” offered guitarist George Freeman, younger brother of late tenor saxophonist Von. “He makes you feel the music. He don’t just play the piano; he makes it talk back.”
Upon returning in 1955, Wright fell easily into Chicago’s jazz scene, where the C&C Lounge, the Grand Ballroom, McKie’s Disc Jockey Show Lounge, and countless other happening spots flourished. He was alternating between bass and piano at the time, and soon found himself playing nine-hour sets for union scale (often less than $10). But Wright’s versatility and talent didn’t go unnoticed, and he landed a full-time gig at the Randolph Rendezvous with Jelly Holt’s Four Whims, entertaining white downtown conventioneers and earning hundreds of dollars a night in tips. In 1960 a scout from New York label Prestige Records gave Wright a plane ticket, and soon he was playing a Steinway grand for the first time in Rudy Van Gelder’s famous private studio in Englewood Cliffs, New Jersey. Working with bassist Wendell Roberts and drummer Walter McCants (the first of several lineups called the John Wright Trio), in a single day he improvised an album’s worth of grooving tunes based in 12-bar blues. Wright had officially become a recording artist, and South Side Soul was the first of five soul-jazz LPs he’d cut between 1960 and ’62.
That spirit animated this year’s Wright Gathering, which celebrated the pianist’s decades of generous collaborations with musicians young and old. At first glance it could’ve been one of the many massive family get-togethers that fill south-side parks each summer weekend; in fact, one dozens-strong faction of Wright’s kin was in full reunion mode, wearing matching “Kemp Family Cook Out” T-shirts. The sizzle of barbecue grills accompanied the percussive slaps of dominos on picnic tables; kids climbed jungle gyms and swam in the Wrights’ backyard pool; and children and grandchildren doted on elders who relaxed in comfortable folding chairs. The potluck table overflowed with soul food, baked goods, and homemade side dishes, and it always had a long line.
Memory comes up frequently when people talk about Wright. “John could be trusted,” recalls Johnny Ramsey, a retired Eighth Ward precinct captain who worked with the pianist in the late 60s under future Cook County Board president John Stroger. “You know what they say—once you tell the truth, you don’t need a good memory.”
