The Jazz Catalyst: A Tribute to Bill Brower

Though my heart, mind and spirit are at half-staff, this is my humble and nearly impossible
attempt to pay tribute to William A. Brower, AKA “Doc,” as I called him, who died on Monday,
April 12th. Simply put: You would not be reading my words now, if it were not for this man, who I
knew since I was twenty years old. With the exception of my parents, Doc, was the greatest
catalyst for me becoming a working journalist for three decades. My life would have evolved
differently had I not met him when I worked at Olsson’s Record &Tape at 19th & L, N.W. in D.C.
in the early eighties. Though I listened to jazz all of my life, it was Doc, who, by merely playing
Miles Davis’ masterpiece Kind of Blue in the store, made me hear it for the first time. Doc led me
through the vivid and varied inventions and dimensions of The Music, via recordings, live gigs,
books, symposiums, art exhibitions, and festivals. Doc was never dogmatic, telling me what I
had to hear: he suggested what I should hear, guided by my own pace.

But I learned more about Jazz, listening to Doc talking about The Music with the customers who
came to the store, like the legendary trumpeter Webster “Little Diz” Young, A.B.Spellman,
author of Four Lives in the Bebop Business, and countless other musicians, savants and
students. It was around 1986 that I found myself at a record store at Florida Ave., N.W. near the
corner of Georgia Ave.,reading the liner notes for an Arthur Blythe LP. I was astonished to see
Bill’s name as the author of the notes. I rushed home, called him, and asked him why he never
told me he was a writer? He said in his dry mellow, but monotone voice that it wasn’t a big deal,
but it was.

I later learned that Doc wrote for The Unicorn Times, Down Beat, The Washington Post, and
American Visions, and wrote other liner notes. As my brother Reuben Jackson noted in his
eloquent Facebook tribute, just knowing someone who was a writer gave me the impetus to
write. In 1987, I published my first pieces in the program guide for radio station WDCU, where I
was a substitute DJ. Three years later, I wrote my first paid piece - a review of a Marlena Shaw
concert at the Kennedy Center - for JazzTimes. By that time, I was the Jazz Buyer for the Tower
Records store on Pennsylvania Ave, N.W, worked as a freelance producer/Reporter at NPR,
and worked with my good friend, Willard Jenkins at The National Jazz Service Organization,
where I also wrote for the NJSO Journal.

I was later published in many publications including Down Beat, The Village Voice, Vibe,
Publishers Weekly and Wax Poetics. Bill was the spark that allowed me to have a career in
journalism, despite being a college dropout who never took a journalism course. But Doc’s
influence didn’t stop there. I gained invaluable experience in concert production and scriptwriting
working with him at The Capital City Jazz Festival, and with the JBV Production company he co-
founded, which produced Rep. John Conyers’ Jazz Panels and Concerts that took place at the
Annual Black Caucus Conventions.

And then there were the hundreds of hours over the years we talked - when I came by his
house, which arguably was an extension of the Library of Congress, as evidenced by Bill’s
extensive collection of recordings, photos, books and memorabilia - and on the phone. We
talked about everything: music, history, politics, race, economics and education. Those skull
sessions made me more literate in the true spirit of what the liberal arts are supposed to
represent.

So now, like everyone else, not only in D.C., but in New Orleans and New York, where Bill did
years of stage work for The New Orleans Jazz & Heritage Festival, and Jazz at Lincoln Center, I
will go on, knowing he is not here in the physical sense. But also knowing he is with me, and
with us, in the spiritual realm. Rest well, Doc. Until We Meet Again.

Eugene Holley, Jr.

Wilmington, DE
3/13/21