This is the fourth installment in writer Ralph Horner’s newest column, “The Birth of Rock & Roll (and those who brought it into the world),”about discovering Rock & Roll music as a teenager in the 1950s.

Ever hear of Big Jay McNeely?  I’m sure you haven’t because most people don’t know who he was. But he was our idol in the 1950s. 

McNeely was a tenor sax player who was huge in our circles. One day, my friend Keith Green brought a newspaper clipping to school that said the Big Jay and his band were going to play at a bar on West 25th Street.

Keith called the bar and asked if there were going to be any matinee shows—because our parents would have killed us if they found out that we went all the to West 25th Street to a bar at night to hear a “some Negro musician play his boogie woogie music.” 

Big Jay McNeelyYes, there would be a Sunday matinee, the man said, and no it didn’t matter that we were only 15 years old. We were beside ourselves with excitement. We were going to see Big Jay play in person! 

That Sunday we left about an hour-and-a-half before Big Jay was supposed to play. We had never been on the west side of Cleveland before, and we didn’t want to be late. We took the Superior bus downtown and got off at Public Square. We asked the guy at the CTS booth how to get to West 25th Street and he showed us where to get the bus. 

The bus crossed over the Detroit Superior Bridge and turned left on West 25th.  We immediately started looking for the Avalon Bar.  Keith looked out of the left side of the bus, and I looked out of the right side. It seemed that the ride took forever but eventually I spotted it and shouted, “There it is!”  We rang the bell and the bus stopped right in front of the place. 

We paid the $3 cover charge and sat down at a table right next to the bandstand. The place filled up after us and eventually a guy got up on the stage and said, “Ladies and gentlemen, BIG JAY MC NEELY!” 

Big Jay and his band came out and started to play without saying anything. Big Jay was just that….big! He was a huge hulking man and the tenor sax looked tiny in his grasp. In a short time, the place was rocking. 

He played for about an hour. We knew all the songs. Without fanfare, Big Jay and the boys came down from the stage and played while walking through the audience. 

When Big Jay got to our table, he put the bell of the saxophone right up to my ear and wailed. I thought my head was going to explode. I know my eyes crossed—I could feel it.

The band and the audience were really getting into it! There was a side door in the bar room and Big Jay and the boys walked through it playing all the while. They played and rocked all the way down a side street and came back on the other side—with Keith and I, and the whole bar. dancing and clapping behind them. It was wild! 

People came out of their houses with very puzzled looks on their faces. This quiet white, residential neighborhood had never seen anything like this before. Big Jay came back in through the front door and the show was over. 

He waved, said thank you, and disappeared into the backroom. Keith and I were flabbergasted. We were two satisfied 15-year-olds on the bus ride back to the east side. We felt like we were made privy to some secret and sacred ritual that kids our age weren’t meant to see. We were the envy of all our friends at school the next day when we told our friends what we had witnessed.  

Bill DoggettBill Doggett had one big hit that is very well known, “Honky Tonk.” It was considered to be one of the greatest rock instrumental tracks of all time and had a thrilling and haunting refrain. Bill Doggett played the organ, on “Honky Tonk,” but none of us knew that since the saxophone was the featured instrument on his records. 

Doggett also had a single called Boo Daba which had the unusual distinction of featuring a baritone sax instead of a tenor sax. The baritone sax had a very deep tone, sort of a “blaaat” sound and I can remember being in a study hall above the rec-room at East High and hearing Boo Daba being played loudly on the juke box below.

The deep resonant tone of the baritone sax made the wooden floor and desk kind of vibrated and hummed and I could feel Boo Daba vibrating through my wooden chair  as I was trying to read “Beowulf.”

Johnny Ace only had only one big hit, “Pledging My Love,” but will remain a legend in doo-wop and rock & roll history because he blew his brains out playing Russian roulette on Christmas Day in 1954. 

We kids said the name Johnny Ace with reverence—I’m not sure why, but I guess I will explain.

It was the same feeling that was expressed much later when Jimi Hendrix and Jim Morrison played their Gibsons and sang to a much different audience at the big Woodstock in the sky.