I was lucky enough to write the cover story for Hour’s Jazz Fest issue this week, and it’s about Ravi Coltrane. (Yes, John Coltrane is his father.) Ravi was in a bit of a hurry when we spoke last Saturday morning (he was taking his kids to a baseball game), but he was a very laid back guy to interview. I was particularly excited to hear him tell me about playing with Elvin Jones, one of my all time favorite drummers. (I saw him do a solo show in Montreal a few years back and got to shake his hand afterward. He almost crushed mine; it was awesome.) Jones played a big role in helping a young Ravi develop as a musician.

I’ve pasted a short excerpt from the article below, and you can read the full piece here.

It was 1990 in California, and Ravi Coltrane had a secret.

Elvin
Jones, the muscular, polyrhythmic drummer who was the driving force
behind saxophonist John Coltrane’s legendary quartet, was in town for a
show. It had been years since he played on the West Coast, and Ravi
Coltrane, the then-25-year-old son of the famous saxophonist, spent
time with Jones, hanging out at the venue and heading to music stores.
"You know, doing the things that musicians do," Coltrane says by phone
from a New York City cab. (It’s Saturday and he’s taking his kids to a
Mets game.)

Coltrane’s secret was that he had started playing the
saxophone a few years earlier. He chose not to tell Jones, but word got
out anyway.

"By the end of the week he found out I was playing,"
Coltrane says. "Then months later he called me and asked if I was
available to do some gigs. I told him that, yeah, maybe in a year
because I’m still in school, I’m not ready."

Coltrane was at the
California Institute of the Arts studying music, but as he
self-deprecatingly describes, "I could barely string two notes
together. I can do three or four now." Coltrane came to the music late,
but Jones wanted to make sure he benefited from an appropriate
apprenticeship. Still, the young saxophonist with the famous name was
hesitant.

"I was an Elvin fan and I didn’t want me having the
name Coltrane to be a distraction for me and the other guys in the
band," he says. "I try to avoid that whole ‘Coltrane’ thing. It was
never an angle for me."

Jones said he wanted him in the band in four months’ time.

"Elvin doesn’t take no for an answer," laughs Coltrane. "He said, ‘I want to help you.’ You don’t say no to Elvin."

…

The Presstime article:

‘There Really Are No Small Errors’

BY MARY LYNN F. JONES

DURING THE LAST 12 months, thousands of errors have slipped into the nation’s newspapers. Among the more memorable: a Dallas Morning News column referring to a woman as a socialist, rather than a socialite; a Denver Daily News item that called New Jersey "Jew Jersey"; and a Chicago Tribune photo caption that misidentified tennis star Serena Williams as singer Beyonce Knowles.

"Errors are probably always going to happen," says Craig Silverman, whose blog, Regret the Error (www.regrettheerror.com), has tracked journalistic mistakes since October 2004. "The question is, can you get rid of the real groaners?"

How to keep such errors out of newspapers will be among the topics discussed at the American Copy Editors Society conference April 20-22 in Cleveland.

Kathy Schenck, assistant managing editor for the copy desk at the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel, says she pauses before letting certain words — such as corruption, gangster and epidemic — into the paper. That’s because those words "are loaded and are sometimes used inaccurately," says Schenck, who will lead a conference session on critical copyediting.

"It’s about thinking about what those words really mean and making sure that the situation calls for using them," adds Schenck, who started a program for her paper’s 33 copy editors last fall that focuses on topics such as math, the courts and use of the Internet.

In February, The New York Times launched the "Quarter Hour Project," aimed at giving copy editors an additional 15 minutes to work on each story. Each participating department — all except for the Week in Review and Book Review sections and The New York Times Magazine — determined where it could shave off the additional time.

The idea, says Merrill Perlman, director of the paper’s 14 copy desks, which include about 160 staffers, is "to give them a little more breathing space to think about the content of a story."

All copy editors "should check error-prone, verifiable facts as time permits," such as spellings of names, titles, phone numbers and street addresses, Perlman says. Other suggestions include looking for internal inconsistencies in a story, as well as "focus errors," like whether a number should be followed by millions or billions.

And, Perlman says, copy editors should "think about what somebody is saying and what you know." For example, visualize the description of a car accident to see if it makes sense. "Follow your instincts," she adds.

Other common mistakes, according to Silverman, involve misidentification (making a man into a woman in a story, for example) and omission (leaving out an important word in a quote). "There really are no small errors," he says.

This article was published in Hour magazine back on May 16, 2002. Basically, I decided to test Montreal’s supposedly lax liquor laws by grabbing a giant can of beer and going about some daily activities. This is one of my favorite pieces just because it was so ridiculous to do. Go to the bottom of this post to see a scan of the article, replete with a picture of me yelling at my hairdresser as she takes a swig from my beer.

Are you looking at my can?

Taking the bar to the streets to see just how liberal our liquor laws really are

by Craig Silverman

Last
week Canada Post declared it would soon be delivering alcohol. The same day, Public Security Minister Normand Jutras tabled legislation
to loosen Quebec’s liquor laws by allowing folks to get alcohol when
they order take out, and expanding the types of alcohol they can bring
into unlicensed restaurants. The casual observer might take these two
events and conclude our government wants us to, in the words of Andrew
W.K., "party hard". So I grabbed a few king cans and went about some
regular activities to see just how loose our liquor laws really
are in this already riotous city.

Hair Salon
Important note: Depanneur
workers don’t give you dirty looks when you buy two king cans at 10:30
in the morning. So, beer in hand, I continued on my way to see the
legendary Julee Jonez, have her work her magic on my locks, and see if
I couldn’t also get a little buzz going.

"I have a surprise for you," I told her, and cracked a can.

When
drinking during a haircut the most important thing is to avoid getting
any hair in your brew. Apart from that important caveat, drinking
during a haircut is an otherwise thoroughly enjoyable experience that’s completely tolerated. It’s even better when your coiffeur also
partakes in a swig or two. (But be wary if they keep, ahem, reaching
for your can. Drinking while having your hair cut is entirely different
than drinking while cutting hair.)

"This might become a tradition," I said.

"That wouldn’t bother me," replied Julee.

Clothing Shopping
I
then decided it was time for something a little more active than
sitting in a chair and drinking. (Hell, I can do that at work any
time.) Equipped with 950ml of Labatt 50 and a photographer/accomplice
named Samir, I set out along St. Denis Street and arrived at the Mexx clothing
store. I set my can down on the counter to look at some sunglasses. The
cashier looked at me, then the beer. Then off she walked. I was pretty
much left alone as I brazenly browsed and boozed. In fact, they seemed
to paying more attention to Samir. It appears that Polaroid cameras, no
matter how casually carried, attract more attention than large cans of
beer. That changed once the salesman tracking Samir noticed my can and
held a mini conference. They sent over a lovely Asian woman.

"Are you having a good day sir?" she asked, all smiles.

"Yes indeed," I said, "and you?"

"Very good, thanks. It’s a lovely day isn’t it?" she asked.

"Yes," I said and took a swig for effect. "Do you get many people in here with beer?"

"No, not really."

"Is it against the rules?" I asked.

"Well,
you
are supposed to put it in the paper bag but it doesn’t really matter,"
she said. "I’m actually kind of jealous of you. It’s a beautiful day
and I’m stuck
in here…"

"…while I walk around drinking a beer with complete impunity," I said.

"Yes."

"We’ll I won’t torture you anymore, have a nice day," I said and left.

We
next went to The Gap to see if the greeter at the front of the store
would turn into a surly bouncer at the sight of my very unfashionable
large dark green beer can. (I think 50 is probably more of a fall or
winter beer, but please consult your cosmologist.)

"Welcome to The Gap," they said.

"Cheers!" I said.

Nothing.
Samir went looking for a nice button down. Another pass by the greeter
caused him to convene a quick meeting with a young manager-looking
woman.

"Can I help you with anything?" she asked in French after coming over.

"No thanks, just looking."

"Well if you need any help just ask for me, my name is M——-."

"M——-?"

"M——-."

(Look, I was drinking a king can. I don’t remember her name. But it started with an "M", okay?)

Again
I found they don’t really seem to care, as long as you pass the
"send-over-the-cute-salesperson-to-see-if-he’s-belligerent-or-too-drunk-to-get-out-his
credit-card" test. I’d like to think I passed with flying colors, but
maybe that’s the beer talking. (What, you expect me to write this
sober? Ak;jsn. Oops, sorry.)

Renting A Movie And Buying A Magazine
I
was eager to see if a chain like Blockbuster, which rents censored
versions of movies and lacks an adult section, would tolerate a drunken
lout like me in their family-oriented franchise. I saddled up to ask
about renting an Xbox, placing my can on the counter. The man behind
the counter did a double take on the beer but kept his focus.
Meanwhile, Samir was in behind the two Blockbusterinas to get a parting
shot. They heard the sound and saw the flash, but Samir was out the
door before they turned around. Again, nobody cared at Blockbuster,
or at our next stop, Maison De La Presse. Only when I placed my can on
the counter with a thud while buying two magazines did the cashier give
me a look, which seemed more of a longing glance anyway.

Conclusion
Nobody
called the cops, I didn’t buy anything ridiculous in a drunken stupor,
I spoke to two positively lovely young women, and put one over on a big
franchise. Yes, this city does rock.

Click for a larger view:

• La Ronde is building the biggest roller coaster in Canada. Link
• Does photo radar work? Link
• A high speed rail link between Montreal and New York? Link
• A look back at the famous Lennon/Ono Bed-In For Peace in Montreal, and an interview with a woman who sang on "Give Peace A Chance." Link
• A 40-foot replica colon drops into town. Link
• New electronic voting machines for the Montreal elections. Link
• The Montreal Archives’ remarkable portrait collection goes online. Link
• New checked baggage rules on Canadian airlines. Link
• A literary tour of Montreal. Link
• Track your kids by their cellphone. Link

I also recommend my good friend Jamie O’Meara’s funny column about straight guys with gay best friends. Though I have to say the line of the week goes to a reader who posted this comment below Jamie’s piece: "This story was great to read knowing that people can be friends despite diversity."

Yes, we all must strive to combat diversity.

I also did an article about Saturday Night Live’s Finesse Mitchell, who is coming to this year’s JFL for some stand up gigs.

As always, I have my weekly Explainer column in the paper. This week’s topic: Harry Potter. Read it here.