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[cheers and applause]

-[man] You fellas better get on out of here.

We're having a big celebration.

You just get on back over yonder.

-[man] Get on out of town.

-[man] We're not gonna drop our guns.

[gun fire]

[cheers and applause]

-Ladies and gentlemen, [inaudible] welcome you to

the Caravan of Dreams.

[cheers and applause]

-I wanted to read this proclamation for you,

Ornette.

And then I've got a little gift for you.

-OK.

-Whereas Ornette Coleman, born and reared in the city of Fort

Worth, has enriched the lives of individuals of every race,

color and creed as a composer, performer and renowned jazz

musician,

and whereas Ornette Coleman, a widely acclaimed figure in the

jazz world, has traveled throughout the United States,

Europe, Japan and Africa,

and fashioned for himself an unchallenged right to historical

prominence,

and whereas Ornette Coleman has demonstrated that individual

initiative and the free enterprise system continue to be

the American way of life,

and that success is possible for all who take advantage of the

opportunities in our country,

now, therefore, I, Bob Buller, Mayor of the City of Fort Worth,

Texas, do hereby proclaim September the 29th,

1983 as Ornette Coleman Day in the City of Fort Worth.

Congratulations, Ornette.

-Thank you very much.

[cheers and applause]

-I want to give one other little momento that,

although you're a citizen of Fort Worth,

we want you to have a key to the city of Fort Worth.

This a tie clip.

You haven't got a tie on today.

You will later.

But the original of this was taken to the moon by Allen Bean,

another Fort Worth native.

-[man] Yeah, that's the key to the city.

-Where's the moon?

-[man] It's the key to the city.

I was with the mayor this afternoon--

-[inaudible] of the moon, I heard.

-[man] Yeah, he said it went to the moon.

-The key went to the moon?

-[man] Yeah.

-Why did this key go to the moon?

-[man] I don't know, man.

The mayor recited, like, the whole document before he gave it

to him, right?

And then he accepted the key.

It was really nice.

There was a crowd around--

-[man] Did you cry?

-No I didn't cry, man.

It wasn't that sentimental.

But it was nice receiving the key to the city,

man.

You know, it's not every day that something like that

happens.

It says "Fort Worth."

-[man] I know, but that's not the key, is it?

-[man] Yeah, it looks like a key.

Don't you see it?

-[man] Man, the key went to the moon.

You known, it's like when they take objects to the moon and

stuff like that.

-[man] Well, why would they take that to the moon?

-[man] Just for-- you know, just for the experience.

It's like "This has been to the moon."

Like, somebody give you a shirt and it's from Paris.

-You see a trumpet case over there?

-[man] Looks good.

Yes.

Cow town, USA.

-[Ornette] [inaudible] don't remember.

I'm gonna let out all the dogs.

[applause]

-What is it that you do that is different from other drummers in

relationship to playing without having to have something to go

by?

It's obvious you don't have anything to go by but yet you're

playing as if you did.

And that is-- that is a very modern way of playing.

I'm just trying to find out what method do you use to-- to,

uh, be correct, uh, or be right.

I mean, you're more right than you are wrong, you know.

-I don't-- I don't know.

I don't have any particular method or anything.

-All right, so when you do do it, it's-- it's just a

spontaneous thing that's happening in-- in how you're

hearing the music when you do do it?

-Yes.

-I see.

Well, are you playing the [inaudible] drum in your-- as

far as growing up to be a man?

What they call being an artist, you know.

Are you-- does that ever occur to you?

-[Denardo] Yeah, I guess.

I'm not sure.

-Let's-- let's try again.

On the rim.

And Charlie you play the [inaudible], all right?

Yeah, that was-- that was really there.

That was really there that time.

I mean, the idea of the whole piece.

That house was standing like that when I was a little kid.

I remember playing in the streets here one day.

And my mother told me, she said, "Don't you leave this yard."

I said, "Yes, ma'am."

And as soon as she went to town, I ran downstairs and started

playing football.

And I looked up and saw her and my sister coming.

I peed in my pants and I was running back down here.

Because she told me, "If you leave this-- leave this yard,

I'm gonna, you know, spank you."

And I said, "Oh, my mother's going to beat me.

I better run."

But she caught me.

-[man] She caught you?

-She did, she beat me to death.

-[man] [laughs] I guess you remember that.

-[Ornette] Yes, I remember it very well.

But you know, I-- I was listening to a tape the other

night and the thing that really am-- am-- amazed me,

what really makes me want to play music,

it's when I really hear an individual, um...

thought pattern placed in an environment to make something

actually come about that is not an obvious thing that everyone

is doing.

And um-- uh, uh, actually, it comes-- you do more--

to tell you the truth, I think you do it much better than I do.

That's what I'm saying, because I remember having a, um, el--

elder musician telling me, "Oh you're a kid, [inaudible]."

I remember being in, um, California when I read a review

of a drummer saying that, "Oh, you know,

I said, I guess I'm not that kind of drummer because I should

have you [inaudible]."

Because we were related.

But really, it was just-- now that I look back at it,

it was really insecurity and jealousy.

-[man] [inaudible]?

-[Ornette] Huh?

Yeah, that train likes to wake me up every morning.

Yeah, I was living really close to the-- to the track there.

-Hey, boy.

You make your mother to answer that door...

or I'll lock you up.

-Junior!

Junior, where you going?

-[Inaudible].

-No, you're not.

You're staying here!

[cheers and applause]

[cheers and applause]

-[foreign language].

-[woman] Ryan was saying this is almost the exact day, ten years

later, as we were together in Jajouka.

-I want to find that video I have of-- of,

uh, uh, the girls and you and I in the tent.

-Yeah, really.

A weird event that occurred in the mountains of Morocco.

We don't have any of the music from Jajouka on the-- to go on

the soundtrack, do you?

-[woman] Oh, yeah.

Oh, yeah.

How did you guys get together at that point in time?

-Well, Bob Palmer had a good deal to do with it,

because he played and had been up there several times and

[inaudible].

-You know, one thing that I've always wondered about.

Remember when I came back when-- when Guyson took me up to

Jajouka and I played with the musicians up there

and I brought back those tapes, and you listened to them

and to my incredible surprise, you said,

"Let's put-- let's go!

Let's get an organization together and go up and make a

record with those guys."

And we went and did it.

What did you hear in those tapes that made you want to do that?

Because, you know, [inaudible].

-I was telling someone the other day when I was in New Orleans.

I was playing in this sanctified church.

And you know, in-- in-- in most churches, the pianos are so out

of tune that they'd be playing the key of Z,

K, P, T.

I mean, H.

And I took my horn in this sanctified church and I played

the same way I'm playing now.

And when I heard those tapes, I heard that same quality only on

a much more high level than religion.

It was more on a creative level.

Because most of religion is on an emotional level.

This was on a creative level.

And that's what really turned me on and I said,

"I gotta go and play with these guys."

Because I could see that for once, I would be able to play

whatever passed through my heart and head without ever having to

worry about whether it's right or wrong.

-[man] Yeah.

-[man] We had something like 15 double-reed horns and 15

drummers.

And Ornette and me and-- and hundreds of hill tribesmen all

camped out in tents in this little-- around this little

village on the top of this mountain.

And the place was just shaking.

-Bob was playing and I [inaudible] telling him I have

this tape [inaudible] that he started playing and all of the

sudden, he, for some instinct, the whole sound of everything

that was going on passed through his horn like it was like,

uh, like an intense flame.

I mean it's-- the -- the-- the-- his clarinet sounded like it was

just some kind of boat of-- of, uh,

fire.

I mean, it was-- it was the most incredible sound I ever heard

any musician play, including myself.

-Pertinent question.

-[man] An impertinent question.

-[man] An impertinent question works even better sometimes,

yeah.

Recording of an impertinent question.

-Pertinent or impertinent.

-Immortality to the people.

Every man a god.

How do you get to be a god?

Well, to put it apple pie country simple,

by doing your job and doing it well.

So you may become a god of jugglers and acrobats.

A god of the long chance.

The horse that comes from last to win in the stretch.

The punch drunk fighter who comes up from the floor to win

by a knockout.

A god of future space travelers who are ready to leave the whole

human context behind and take a step into the unknown.

Well, every man a god if you can qualify.

But you can't be a god of anything unless you can do it,

for Christ sakes.

Happiness is a by product of function and those who seek

happiness for itself seek victory without war.

And that is a flaw in all utopias and of course a paradise

is really a terminal utopia.

-One thing that's always mystified me that I feel that

was magic about your band with Don Cherry and Blackwell and

Charlie, and that is, uh-- and I think a lot of other people too,

you never-- you never counted off your pieces.

-[man] Mm-hm.

-I mean, just everybody would instinctively or intuitively

come in with the-- with the instruments at the same time.

And you didn't-- you didn't nod you head.

-[Ornette] I didn't say "We're gonna start, we're gonna stop--"

-How did that work?

I mean...

-Same instinctive, uh, um, insight.

-Well, see that's one reason I think that the West-- the West

doesn't really understand about music.

Because the West thinks of music as entertainment,

you know?

And in the same way, it sort of-- this feeling about-- that

persisted in jazz for years that...

well, black musicians came along and were kind of geniuses.

But they don't understand as it-- the heart is probably the

highest kind of intelligence.

This intuitive intelligence that we have

in the third world countries is really third world technology.

So, I mean, the answer lies in music.

I asked Buckminster Fuller, I said,

"Don't you think it's the scientists' responsibility to

relate his discipline, not only to that science,

but to everything?"

His answer was, "Well, you have a dome.

Why don't you use it?"

-OK, um...well...

actually, I met, uh, Buckminster Fuller in 19...

50...

about 54.

At the Hollywood High in, um, Hollywood,

California.

And, um, I-- I listened to his lecture.

And, um, I was just inspired.

In fact, I-- I-- I once studied architect-- I thought I was

going to be an architect.

Then I thought I was going to be a brain specialist.

Then I thought I was going to-- I wanted to be so many things.

So I finally realized I didn't have enough money to support any

of these ideas.

So I started-- I would pursue my career imitating music.

So I got a horn and I started playing whatever I heard on the

radio.

And the one thing that really just blew me away, it was his

demonstration of his own domes.

And when he demonstrated the way his domes were put together and

how geometric they were done,

it just blew me away because I said,

"This is how I've been writing music.

This is the way I write music."

Um, I had-- I was in Rome.

And I was on my way to Florence to play a concert and I'd heard

that he had passed.

And so I dedicated my program to him.

To me, um, he surpassed all of the [inaudible] that has to do

with surviving because of-- of-- of abilities or skills.

And to me, that-- he became one of my-- he's probably my best

hero.

-[Buckminster] The short time that I'll have with you,

I'll spontaneously select out of it I think most relevant to all

things we can talk about about humans and the universe,

which is only something I'm going to care about,

and about what I assess to be opposition in evolutionary

history right now.

When I was born, reality was everything you could see,

smell, touch and hear.

Very important to remind you and everybody else

that no human being's ever seen outside of themself.

You see entirely in a television set inside the brain.

We have this thing called image-a-nation.

Imagination.

-As [inaudible] say, "You can't see outside of yourself,

but we do have imagination."

The expression of all individuals' imagination is what

I call "high melodics."

And each being's imagination is their own unison.

And there are as many unisons as there are stars in the sky.

-[man] Them was the days, man.

-[Ornette] That's right.

-[man] When all the kids went to one school.

All the coloreds--

-[Ornette] That's right.

[inaudible].

There could only be-- if you wasn't black, you couldn't go

to that school.

-[man] No, you couldn't go there.

[inaudible].

-Bussing is outdated compared to this.

-Oh yeah, we used to walk.

-[Ornette] Bussing, there was bussing-- that was all there was

was bussing then.

-[man] I remember when you used play up upstairs over here.

And we wasn't old enough to go up there.

-That's right.

-We used to sneak up the steps.

And William RIchardson's daddy was the doorman

and we would all have bricks in our pocket,

just in case something broke out up there we had to get out in a

hurry.

I remember when we used to-- Charlie Roger used to get

all of us, let's go over upstairs.

Bucket of blood, that's what we used to call it.

-And, uh, you know what?

When I got to New York City, King Curtis was driving a Rolls

Royce.

-Yeah.

-King Curtis was one-- he was probably the most successful

musician that [inaudible] that I-- he made-- he had his own,

um, ah, ah, ah car-- train car.

He opened-- he was-- he was-- he was opening for The Beatles.

-[man] Well, I'll be darned.

-King Curtis.

-[man] Well, I be darned.

-King Curtis made heavy money.

-I know that.

-[Ornette] King Curtis, when I-- when I got to New York City,

he came and picked me up in his Rolls Royce and he was--

you know, I was-- I was making peanuts compared to what he was

making.

-[man] Well, I be darned.

-He was making big money, you know?

And playing really beautiful.

-Yeah, I know.

Charlie sent me the clip.

-Mm-hm.

-Uh-huh.

-[Ornette] There's a building in New York City that looks just

exactly like this building.

The Flatiron Building in New York.

Uh, General Worth, the guy that Fort Worth is named after,

is buried there on 23rd and 5th Avenue across the street from

the Flatiron Building.

[applause]

-[man] Thank you all so very much once again.

A great hand for the ladies and gentlemen in the band who work

so very hard.

I'd like to thank our sound crew from the Port Authority World

Trade Center, who sponsored these [inaudible]

recording industries.

Most of all, I'd like to thank you for coming on your lunch.

I hope you enjoyed it.

[applause]

-That's all the way down in the World Trade Center?

-[woman] Yeah.

-It's synchronized with up here, right?

-[woman] Yeah.

Did you ever see anything like this before?

-No.

No, I haven't.

-[woman] No?

Is it pretty weird?

-Oh, I think it's great.

When musicians can get together without being together...

and playing together, I think it's fantastic.

-[woman] So what do you think about this?

This television music stuff?

-All right.

-[woman] It's all right?

-Yes.

-You still play the drums.

And now you're the manager.

How do you feel about that responsibility?

-Well, I think it works out pretty nice because...

what-- what we're doing and what he's kind of,

um-- business-wise, things that have happened have been kind of

unusual as the music is kind of unusual.

It's a different situation that somebody who's managing and

doing the business has to be aware and sensitive to.

And since I've seen so many people come and go that play

that role that didn't know quite how to work it out--

-One place called the California Club in the late 50's and,

um, and I think his music was so,

uh, powerful at that time that they were very puzzled,

uh, confused and embarrassed.

And, of course, them being next to him sort of it made their

music a little off-balance or a little weaker and their

attitudes were really a drag.

I mean, they looked at him like, "What is this guy doing?"

And they would look at the audience like,

"God, isn't this a drag?"

And, of course, they put him off the stand.

-Oh, well, the so-called, uh...

"Ornette mystique" is like, uh...

uh, when he first started playing, like, uh, um...

people would break his instrument and [laughs]

uh, people-- well, like when I first met him in Los Angeles,

uh...

uh, I walked into a place one Wednesday night...

and the entire rhythm section, uh, they just got up and left

the stand, you know?

And uh, left his saxophone player up there playing so I

came to a quick conclusion, "This has got to be Ornette

Coleman," you know?

And, uh, true, it was.

-Ornette has always been different.

He has always been different from anybody else.

He wanted to invent things for himself.

He'd invent them.

He wasn't accepted at all.

He said every time he walked on the bandstand,

musicians walk off.

And he had come back home on several occasions.

He went to New York.

And [inaudible].

And he had the same band...

that had been with Ornette about ten or 15 years.

And when he got to New York, he hit it.

-And suddenly, Ornette Coleman, up on the bandstand in the Five

Spot, during a blizzard, started to play the blues like Charlie

Parker.

And I have never heard anyone else,

other than Charlie Parker, do that that way.

And Charlie Parker has had many followers and he has also had

many imitators, and there's a big difference.

None of them has come near this.

Ornette had the attack on the reed right.

He was doing it like late Parker too.

The more virtuoso period of Parker's short career.

He was absolutely uncanny and he went on and on doing it.

And I said, "Man, why don't you do this more often?

Why don't you do this on a record to show people that you

really do know what you're doing?

Those that won't listen to you and learn it that way."

And Ornette said something like, "Oh,

I like to do that every now and then for fun."

Or something like that.

And dismissed it that way.

-A symphony orchestra musician is trained to be extremely

precise to meld with everyone else in the orchestra,

where Ornette's...

whole philosophy is totally contrary to that.

He wants the freedom of expression between--

among all of the musicians in the orchestra.

He wants people to feel free to express

themselves at any time within the confines of-- of

the structure that he has designated.

I see the connection between the jazz and the symphony orchestra,

uh, in a very interesting way.

To me, uh, it's like two different forces juxtaposed

against one another.

And it's almost, to me, it's almost like,

uh, two sources of language.

And in Ornette's playing and in the entire group,

Primetime Group, I hear elements of very early jazz,

even dating back to Dixieland.

-I think there was a feeling of, uh,

me for, to be absolutely honest, a feeling of

apprehension, uh, uh, a feeling of being, uh...

threatened by this...

mind of yours.

And uh, I probably-- probably was, along with just about

everybody else.

We had an inkling of what would come.

So when I finally met you in 1959,

at the School of Jazz in Lennox, it was, uh-- the worst dreams

came true.

I heard your music and knew that,

uh, here was a music that was, uh,

frightening in its implications.

That they would have to learn new-- new disciplines.

And I think, in that sense, you influenced,

uh, everybody, you know?

-Obviously, the initial impact of free jazz was kind of

chaotic.

Everybody was running off in the early 60s and doing everything

they could think of doing and whereas it made sense in a kind

of instinctual way for Ornette to do it,

it didn't always make sense for some of his imitators to do it.

But Ornette was always one step ahead of them because he was

moving onto something else while they were still imitating

his earlier phases.

His current phase, it seems to me,

really got going in the early 70s when he went to Morocco

and when he started picking up, in a a lot of ways,

on different kinds of third world music.

Any kind of music encounters resistance from mainstream

audiences if it's particularly dissonant or particularly jagged

rhythmically, uh, or off-putting in that kind of way.

And this is a problem that's been faced by everything from

modernist classical music to free jazz to punk rock.

Uh, Ornette, to his credit, has not sold out,

if you want to put it in the basic terms.

He has pursued what he wants to do.

Uh, this got him branded as an eccentric when he was young.

It gets him branded as a genius when he's old.

-Well, I've been working on this dream for about 20 years now and

it seemed as if it's getting closer and closer to a reality.

And what I intend to do with this space here on Rivington is

to make a multiple expression center,

which involves space, artists, dramatics and science.

I had to migrate to California, then to Europe, then to New York

and to go through lots of things just to get to this normal state

that I'm trying to achieve now.

So, um, um, I do believe that uh-- that the-- the belief

system, the, uh, the concept of what is called the emotional

state of human beings and their desire to do things in their own

time, is an endless cycle in-- in what is called the human

cycle and I would like to, um, in my cycle, making a

contribution to that cycle.

-[man] There were two very bad incidents that happened in this

building.

The first was in September 1982.

I got a call at about 7AM...

while I was sleeping from my father who said he had just been

tied up and beaten...

uh, by six teenagers that came in to rob him.

So I immediately called the police and called other people

here in the building and told them what happened.

And I ran down from where I was, which was about 12 blocks away.

By the time I got here, the police were here and people were

already up here.

And he had been tied up and hit in the head with a hammer,

actually, by-- by these kids, which they didn't have to do,

but they were scared.

And-- and they were trying to take his equipment,

take his money.

Someone saw them on the way out and they had to drop everything.

But they got away.

He crawled across the floor, actually,

to call me while he was still tied up.

And, you know, it was amazing that not more happened to him.

He just got a concussion.

But it was bad.

He had to stay in the hospital a few days.

But then, about six months later,

still at this building...

we were walking up the steps and, in the dark, two guys

attacked us.

They hit him with a crowbar and I grabbed one guy and was

hitting him with a board that I picked up.

We took him to the hospital and they released him that evening.

But during the next day, he had a lot of trouble breathing.

And we knew something was wrong.

So we took the ambulance and came back to the hospital.

And that's where we found out he had a punctured lung.

But all that happened, let's say,

within-- within a six or seven-month period

and all because he was just trying to do his work here in

this building where he could be, uh,

peaceful, people wouldn't have to bother him,

and he wouldn't have to bother other people,

and he would have enough space to take care of things that he

wanted to take care of.

It's a dangerous area.

At one point, it was known as the most heavily drug-trafficked

area.

You know, it's the Lower Eat Side.

And, um, you always have people who are going to mug you or rob

you or take your money.

Anything.

You know, a lot of junkies, a lot of, uh, uh, poor people

also.

I mean, that's the conditions that are in this neighborhood.

But this building he got through a public auction.

It used to be a New York City school building that has a

tremendous amount of space and potential to do a lot here.

You know, he's going to develop it and have,

um, maybe a music school or galleries and performances and a

lot of things happening once it's developed.

But until that point or until things get a little better,

it's always going to be dangerous.

You know?

And, uh, I worry about him a lot.

He's not necessarily gonna stay here,

live here.

But just being in this area, you know,

will be dangerous.

-[Ornette] I'd like to go out in space tonight.

And one reasons why is because, um,

all the things such as religion, science,

astrology, death, survival and all those things,

they leave you without any answers other than

"What's going to happen to me when I'm gone?"

So why not think about what's gonna happen to you while you're

here?

About four months ago, I got a questionnaire from NASA asking

me about my interest in working in space as an artist.

And in this category, they asked if you wanted to come to

NASA, did you want to work in the shuttle,

or did you want to work on just different projects?

So I, um, I went-- I took their documents to a lawyer friend

of mine and we filled them out.

And I put several of my friends down that I thought I'd like to

have there with me.

Well, I-- I-- I-- I think that whatever out in space I have

met, and whatever is not out in space I have met.

I mean, in other words, that space is only space

to communicate to us if there is a being or a [inaudible].

So therefore, the Earth is [inaudible] than space.

So we're already out in space.

It's just the difference between looking up and looking down.

And so that's why I'm, uh-- Buckminster Fuller,

he said in his last lecture that I attended that there's no such

thing as up and down, it's only out.

So in that sense, uh, I don't expect to find anything that I

haven't already experienced out.

They say a million years from today, um,

the image of what we know as human beings might become

altered or might become extinct.

I don't believe that the human form will ever cease to exist.

So if it's not on what if called this Earth,

then I guess the next place would be what is called Heaven.

And since Heaven is a form of space,

it could be considered as a place in space.

And for some reason, if the Earth is not here or if it's

destroyed, humanity is not going to go with it.

That's why I would like to go out in space because I'm not

interested in questioning what's going to happen to me after I

pass.

I'm more interested in what can I experience while I'm alive.

This beautiful woman was coming down the street.

And the moment we got close to each other,

she starts smiling.

Finally, when I got really close to her, she grabbed me and

kissed me real passionate.

And then, in my broken English, I said,

"What is your name?"

And she started screaming, you know.

And she didn't have no idea who I was [inaudible],

you know?

And I said, "Oh my goodness, maybe if I hadn't opened my

voice, we would have had a good time."

[laughs]

-[woman] Tell us the castration story.

-No, [inaudible] but I'll tell you a story about it.

Um...

[inaudible].

When I was...

I guess I was turning to be a teenager,

and I remember, uh, having to, uh,

walk home with girls from high school.

I got involved in, you know, trying to court

around high school.

My little high school playmates and things.

And, um, during that time I started playing music as well.

Also, when I played music, I always got a different kind of,

uh, relationship to, uh, girls.

And then I started wondering, "I wonder if this-- if playing

music has anything to do with these girls liking me, and if I

wasn't playing music, how would they respond to me?"

[inaudible] really become very serious until I

started traveling.

And while I was traveling, I always found that I could,

you know, pick up a girl because I told her I was playing music.

I never got over the feeling of knowing whether, um...

some girl would like me because of me just being a

a person and not just a performer.

And so, after having been married and having a kid,

I was thinking about eliminating any sexual feeling I could have

in my body.

So I was told that was called castration.

So I went to the doctor and I told him that's what I thought I

was interested in him doing.

So he looked at me very strange because I'm-- I think I'm about

30...

32...

I'm in my early 30s.

So he, you know, he looked at me very strangely and kept saying,

"Well, are you sure you-- is that what you really want?"

I said, "Yeah, that's what I want."

And so he said, "Well, I'll tell you what.

Before you try that, why don't you try circumcision first?"

And I said, "I-- I'd never done--"

I didn't have any idea what he was talking about because,

you know, it was just something I hadn't thought about.

And I said, "Uh, is that a kind of form of castrating?"

He said, "Well, not exactly but it's symbolic."

-I'm going to have a baby.

-Can I have your baby?

-[Ornette] So, I had the operation of, uh, being,

uh, circumcised.

And, uh, finally after I, um, got well I-- I still didn't feel

any change.

I mean it didn't improve-- I didn't-- I didn't solve that

problem by having that particular operation.

But one thing that I did solve was the fact that I realized

that, uh, being physical or sexual has nothing to do with

what you think or believe, it has more to do with who you

think you're affecting and what you think you're affecting.

And so from then-- from that day to this day,

I have decided there's-- there's two kinds of human beings:

one female and one male and one man and one woman.

So I decided to join what I thought,

uh, the categories would be.

I would rather be a man than a male.

So that was the conclusion of all the things that I'd done.

That's the result of what I came to.

[cheers and applause]

-I'm fine, how are you doing?

-Pleasure to meet you.

-[Ornette] Same here.

-And I tell you, Jean has lived, talked,

dreamed where to find out more and more about Ornette Coleman.

-[Ornette] Oh my goodness.

How's that going, huh?

-Good.

-Yeah, you should have had your horn out.

You could've come up and played with us, man.

-Very, very nice.

Aren't you from Fort Worth?

-Yeah.

-I write for the Dallas Morning News.

I'd very much like to meet with you.

-I'm at the Americano.

-How long are you going to be there?

-Until about the 6th or 7th of October.

-Of October?

-Yes.

-May I call you?

-Yes.

-For an interview?

-Yeah, sure.

-My-- my name is Lee Anne Howe,

H-O-W-E.

And I write for the Dallas Morning News.

-OK.

-I'd very much like to meet you.

I enjoyed it very much.

-Thank you.

-Thank you very much.

-Marvelous!

Fantastic!

-All I can say is I have a friend that I'm going to send to

see you at the club.

-Were they taking a recording tonight?

-Yeah, they were.

-Good.

-That was great.

-Oh, thank you.

-I'm going to see my friend.

-OK.

-It was a wonderful concert.

Just beautiful.

Thank you, thank you very much.

-[woman] Ornette?

Can I have you autograph, please?

-How will I find your room at the Americano?

-I'm in room 1104.

-1104.

Well, a lot of times when celebrities stay, they won't

tell you.

-Yeah, but I'm telling you.

It's 1104.

-I'll be there.

-Yeah, OK.

-Thank you very much.

-This is a very exciting happening.

-It is a very exciting happening.

-John, you're a great disappointment to us all.

-I am?

I left my clothes on.

-One sip?

-Hello, my darlings.

I'm having a marvelous time.

[Inaudible].

No, darling.

I'm from Beverly Hills, California.

And I work in [inaudible] and movies out in Hollywood.

With Lex Barker.

Down to Earth with Rita Hayworth,

Harvey Girls with Judy Garland.

Many, many others.

I love Fort Worth.

I'm pretending I'm a Texan now.

I've even got the Texan accent.

Oh, I love you too, you good-looking doll.