Sideman gets the spotlight as Hadley Caliman plays Tula's

Reed man Hadley Caliman celebrated his 70th birthday in January, but you'd never know it from his youthful appearance — or by listening to him talk.

"It's a very positive time for me now," said the veteran sax and flute player, whose lengthy résumé includes stints with jazz greats Freddie Hubbard and Earl Hines, as well as rock star Carlos Santana. "I'm very happy. Every night, every day, I feel like I'm 16."

Caliman makes a rare appearance as a leader of his own quartet at 9 p.m. tomorrow at Tula's ($12; 206-443-4221). The group features Randy Halberstadt (piano), Jon Hamar (bass) and Matt Jorgensen (drums).

Part of Caliman's current bliss comes from his recent marriage and a move to beautiful Port Townsend. But musically, things are looking up, as well.

The longtime Cornish College instructor is featured on a new album by Nicholas Hoffman, "Blues For Eddie," which has been getting good airplay. He recently performed at Jazz on the Hill, a San Francisco Bay Area festival, and, here at home, he's busy mixing a live recording of his January birthday celebration at Tula's.

Things haven't always been so good for Caliman, a "musician's musician" who has spent most of his career in a misty strata of semi-invisibility. Born in rural Oklahoma, Caliman spent his teens on the rich, African-American scene on Central Avenue, in Los Angeles. At Jefferson High School, his classmates included trumpeter Art Farmer, and Caliman himself was known as "Little Dex," because of his admiration for another Jefferson alum and sax man, Dexter Gordon. Caliman and saxophonist Eric Dolphy both recorded as youngsters with drummer Roy Porter's big band.

But street life soon got the better of Little Dex, and he spent the next two decades in and out of prison, including one night in the L.A. county jail with Miles Davis and Art Blakey. In between, he squeezed in stints with band leaders Gerald Wilson and Don Ellis.

In the '70s, the saxophonist had a heyday in San Francisco, performing and recording with Hubbard, pianist Hampton Hawes, Santana (he's on "Caravanserai"), Mongo Santamaria, vocalist Jon Hendricks, pianist Earl Hines and vibraphonist Bobby Hutcherson.

Caliman also made four fine albums under his own name during this period, all out of print.

In 1980, having fallen in love with a woman from rural Washington, Caliman made a radical move to Cathlamet, and for a couple of years painted houses, flipped burgers and split wood for a living. But his old friend, trombonist Julian Priester, soon drafted him as a colleague at Cornish. Since 1982, Caliman has taught many of the area's finest young tenor men, including Stuart MacDonald, Galen Green and Kareem Kandi.

"He's a fantastic teacher," attests Green, 23, who started studying with Caliman in eighth grade. "He's an unbelievable musician and a beautiful man. He really gets you to play in the idiom, to use your ears when you play, rather than your brain. I've learned more from him than I can say."

As a player, Caliman's most obvious influence is John Coltrane. But at his regular gig in the cozy Greenwood bar and restaurant Mona's or at the "Jazz Offering" on the first Sunday afternoon of the month at Tula's, it's clear the saxophonist is his own man. His tone is burrier, more softly contoured and piping than Coltrane's, his rhythmic feel looser and more conversational.

Caliman sometimes has been frustrated by the Seattle jazz culture, which he finds too mental.

"It's up here," he said, pointing to his head. "You need the knowledge, and you need creativity, but you also need this other thing — soul, rhythm, swing — you've got to have all three."

Revered by musicians, Caliman has never gone hungry, but commercial success has eluded him, a fate that often befalls great sidemen. Caliman seems to have made peace with his situation.

"Some of us are not cut out to be promoters or business men," he said. When he was with Santana, he was always thinking that he needed to grow. "That was most important to me. I had this money but I wasn't happy."

Paul de Barros: 206-464-3247 or pdebarros@seattletimes.com.