Picture Miami/Fort Lauderdale in the ‘70s: small and quiet, lots of birds, flowers and trees. Lots of artists too.

There were loads of clubs and hotels to gig at, and the whole area was an inexpensive place to live with a great climate.

As a community of players, we shared ideas and band gigs, and had a great time musically and socially.

Three natives of Fort Lauderdale had a trio called “Woodchuck” who played Hammond B3, guitar and drums. They were bad to the bone: somewhere between Jimmy Smith, The Band, Mahuvishnu, Mountain and Hendrix.

A lot of this potpourri/original styling was growing in south Florida, but these guys were exceptional. They really rocked, were impossibly loud, and drew an enthusiastic young crowd.

And they were kids—17, 18 years old!

The drummer, the youngest, was eventually to become a unique and genuine legend in his own right: Jaco Pastorius.

Jaco was a drummer before he was a bassisto maestro, and he never stopped playing the tubs.

By 1970 he was locally established, doing some commercial club gigs and jazz gigs while still underage. He was also doing some session work with yours truly, perhaps his first. We did some jazzy jingles for pop-jingle legend Bob Swanson (“See the USA in your Chevrolet”).

Other session work was some bizarre, hippie/Bowie/Zeppelin tunes done in Miami at Criteria Studio. Just one studio, four tracks at the time.

Jaco and I became good friends. We gabbed incessantly about music and the technology of recording and all sorts of other things.

Jaco wasn’t your typical late teen—he seemed like he’d been around forever. He had a wry mumbling deadpan style of speaking that sounded somewhat cynical and pessimistic. But he always had a lilting happiness with a matching quirk in his eyes and smile. 

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