[JPL] Between Organist and Keyboard, a Crane

[Jazz Promo Services]

http://www.nytimes.com/2008/03/22/nyregion/22jarvis.html?ex=1206849600&e
n=e5a31e62f507a78e&ei=5070&emc=eta1


March 22, 2008
Between Organist and Keyboard, a Crane

By GLENN COLLINS
To a discriminating group of jazz aficionados, she¹s known for her exuberant
rendition of ³Cherokee,² and her meditative ³All of Me.²

To a larger group of Mets fanatics still mesmerized by the team¹s glories
and miseries in the 1960s and ¹70s, she is legendary for the renditions of
³Meet the Mets² and ³The Mexican Hat Dance² boomed on the mighty Thomas
organ at Shea Stadium.

But now, at least temporarily, Jane Jarvis is something else: a displaced
person.

Last Saturday¹s crane collapse forced Ms. Jarvis, 92, to leave her apartment
building at 311 East 50th Street, adjacent to the four-story brick building
that was crushed in the disaster. She lived in one of 300 apartments that
were evacuated, and thus entered a small population of Manhattanites who,
while not injured in the collapse, have found themselves living in the odd
twilight between victim and survivor. Some have found refuge with friends,
others in hotels, others in shelters.

³They got us out of the buildings so fast,² she said, ³all I had was my
pajamas and a fur coat.²

Ms. Jarvis sat chatting on Friday on her hotel bed in Midtown Manhattan,
where she is now safe but bewildered. ³I guess my world fell around me,² she
said. ³A lot of people get hurt by things like this, and no one even
suspects it.²

Ms. Jarvis, who is frail but strong of temperament, has endured a
multiple-hotel odyssey in recent days that has left her ³tired and
confused.²

Weeks before the crane toppled, Ms. Jarvis said, she saw it ³swaying in a
windstorm, and we were praying to God that it wouldn¹t fall,² she said of
herself and a caretaker, Joylyn Caleb. Then, last Saturday at 2:22 p.m., she
saw the 146-ton crane collapse from the window of her 11th-floor studio
apartment. ³I remember there was a noise. And then the building shook.²

Though not directly hit, her building sustained water damage and the
elevators haven¹t worked since, she said.

She spent four nights with her paid caretakers in a hotel in the Chelsea
neighborhood, in a room found for her by a friend, Benny Powell, a jazz
trombonist who has often performed with Ms. Jarvis. Her apartment itself was
not damaged, but returning to it has proved harder than she¹d expected.

Ann Ruckert, a studio musician who has known Ms. Jarvis for decades, said
that on Wednesday, ³the Red Cross told her to check out so she could return,
so she waited for them and nobody came, so then she and her caretaker took a
taxi to her block.²

Once there, ³she was hassled by the workers there, because Jane was in
slippers and pajamas, which was all she had,² Ms. Ruckert said.

³You wondered who was in charge,² said Ms. Jarvis, who knows a thing or two
about management, having spent 18 years with the Muzak company producing
piped-in music programs for elevators and supermarkets.

Scott A. Graham, the chief response officer for the American Red Cross of
Greater New York, said he wasn¹t aware of the confusion on Wednesday, but
said his agency worked with nearby St. Peter¹s Church that afternoon to find
a hotel where Ms. Jarvis could stay at a reduced rate.

³I don¹t dwell on all of this,² said Ms. Jarvis, who walks with difficulty.
She projected the grandeur of a Gloria Swanson with an impish soupçon of
Carol Burnett.

It was her role as the Pied Piper of Shea that secured her reputation from
1964 to 1979.

Ms. Ruckert, her friend, said in a telephone interview that ³I was there on
her last day ‹ and she had her name up on the board, and they gave her a
plaque.² Ms. Ruckert sighed. ³She was replaced by a machine.²

After her tour of duty with the Mets and Muzak, Ms. Jarvis seriously pursued
a career as a jazz pianist, playing with musicians like Lionel Hampton,
Clark Terry and Roy Eldridge. For nearly a decade she has taken the stage
with Mr. Powell, the trombonist, who is now 78. They made a CD together,
³Two of a Kind,² and performed last December at St. Peter¹s Church, where ³I
often played,² she recalled.

And with that, Chris Mercado, a medical worker with the Red Cross, popped
into her room to see how she was getting along. ³The good news,² he said,
³is that most of your neighbors are going to be able to return today. The
elevator won¹t be operational until tomorrow, so we hope you¹ll be able to
go back then.²

Ms. Jarvis thanked him, adding that she greatly misses her piano, an Adam
Schaff upright, ³where I ease my anxieties at the keyboard.²


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