In tall and feathery words, an ecstatic esthete in the New Republic called it "New York's most important musical event of several decades." The music of Bunk Johnson was not as good as all that, but by last week it had become Manhattan's undiscovered hot jazz sensation of the year.
Four nights a week, in a barren, gym-like hall called Stuyvesant Casino on Manhattan's tawdry Lower East Side, Bunk and his six fellow jazzmen from New Orleans gave out with rocking hymns like When the Saints Go Marching In, drum-heavy parade music like High Society and Maryland, My Maryland, and the quick-paced...
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