To 'Traff' Hubert, jazz was incredible
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He was a musician, a man consumed by the smooth and swinging rhythms of jazz, who was in heaven whenever his hands thumped his bass, be it at New York's Birdland or the Southcenter Nordstrom foyer.
F. Trafford "Traff" Hubert was a tall, lanky, soft-spoken kid from Puyallup who fell hard for jazz back in the days when such records were sheathed in brown paper and stashed behind music-store counters.
"I was obsessed with jazz," Mr. Hubert told Paul de Barros, who chronicled the Seattle jazz scene in his 1993 book "Jackson Street After Hours."
"I had about 3,000 78s. When Dizzy Gillespie and Charlie Parker first came out, I almost went crazy. I thought that was the greatest thing I had ever heard."
Mr. Hubert was in his late teens when some friends from Tacoma needed a bass player. So he rented a bass, bought a bass book and taught himself to play.
Suddenly, he was jamming with locals - then in after-hours clubs, road tours, gigs at Fort Lewis and eventually gigs in Seattle, according to de Barros' book. In 1950, Mr. Hubert became the fourth man in the Cecil Young Quartet, a bebop band that played so very fast. Audiences dug it.
The quartet released two records, played the legendary Birdland, the Blue Note in Chicago and Hi-Hat in Boston.
Mr. Hubert was the last living member of the quartet until his death on May 24 from cancer. He was 74.
"Everything in his life fit around playing music," said his daughter Lynn Chapman of Bainbridge Island, about a man who continued to play jobs even after he fell ill two years ago. Playing jazz was ecstasy. And Mr. Hubert never disclosed his illness, out of fear that if people knew he was sick, he wouldn't get work, his daughter said.
"That's what he was. He was a player and he always wanted to play," said Seattle musician and longtime friend Ken Olendorf.
Performers aren't necessarily the flashiest of folks, which was the case with Mr. Hubert, friends recalled.
As a musician, he was a conscientious and kind man, always on time, always accommodating to those around him. For a short while, after the quartet dissolved, Mr. Hubert earned a living as a record salesman. And in the 1980s, he was the popular host of "Traff's Trip," a jazz show on local radio stations KRAB and KXA.
But always, there were gigs: the Seattle Roots festival, private, dot-com affairs, a Kingdome implosion party. As a white man touring with black musicians a half-century ago, Mr. Hubert had entry to a world that many never saw.
"I learned to eat hot soul food and learned about the illegal black cabs called `jitneys,' who would act as our personal taxicab," Mr. Hubert said in the jazz book. "It was an education. Some black people asked me, sincerely, if I was crazy. I said, `I'm here because I like the music.' "
Mr. Hubert's living room in the Ravenna neighborhood of Seattle never held a couch but instead was flush with record albums, music and recording equipment.
Others found Mr. Hubert inspiring for reasons besides music.
He was a recovering alcoholic in his 18th year of being clean and sober, a fact that he was proud of and that he wanted included in his obituary. Many folks knew Mr. Hubert as a counselor at the Lakeside-Milam Recovery Center and as a regular speaker at Alcoholics Anonymous meetings, folks who have been calling his daughter Lynn and telling her what a difference he made.
Mr. Hubert was preceded in death by his son, Tad, and former wife, Julie Nickelson. Survivors include his daughter Lisa Rowland of Poulsbo, Kitsap County, five granddaughters, one great-granddaughter and his former wife Rita Hubert of Seattle.
A memorial jam session is scheduled for 1 to 4 p.m. June 10 at the Seattle Labor Temple, 2800 First Ave.
Remembrances may be made in Mr. Hubert's name to radio stations KPLU or KUOW.