136 PUNCHMAGAZINE.COM what it was, and you'd join in. You had to have that kind of experience to play with players like Vince.” Mulling it over a moment, he adds, “It was all about listening.” Though Vince still felt unwell and some of his audience may have been distracted by their entrées, that didn’t keep the pianist from playing a strong first set, his fingers nimble as always across the keys. “He was a wonderful swinging pianist,” Jim says. “Rhythmically, he was a lot of fun to play with.” Diners would call for jazz classics, those familiar standards, as well as songs from the Peanuts soundtrack. On these kinds of gigs, at least one guest, without fail, would beg for “Linus and Lucy,” the most recognized of all Peanuts songs, and Vince would always graciously launch into the beloved number. Guaraldi’s Grammy-winning jazz single “Cast Your Fate to the Wind” was another audience favorite. Vince was an expressive player. His eyebrows would lift and swoop with the ebb and flow of the notes. His head would swing as the melody swept him up. There would be little moments when he’d surface, sharing glances and nods to check in with the other musicians, and then he’d lose himself again in his dialogue with the piano. “He was a brilliant artist,” Suzanne says. “The music just flowed out of him.” After playing a rousing rendition of “Eleanor Rigby,” Vince went on break, promising to return for a second set. It's a promise he would break. THE FINAL ACT The pain in Vince’s stomach was growing steadily stronger, but he knew he would be able to rest at the Red Cottage Inn, where a makeshift band room was waiting for him. All he had to do was cross the parking lot to one occasion. “I was so amazingly honored and nervous,” she says. Suzanne also recalls Vince’s cheery disposition. “He was always smiling,” she says. “He was always kind.” Everyone loved Vince—and he cut quite the memorable figure. An acquaintance once fondly described the man as “a gnome-like character with a walrus mustache and a big grin.” PLAY IT AGAIN, VINCE After running a sound check, the trio relaxed into the familiar rhythms of performing. Soon, Vince, Seward and Jim were conducting a dialogue between their instruments. It carried the easy flow of a conversation between old friends. “In that period of time, jazz musicians expected their sidemen to have memorized hundreds of songs,” Seward notes. “Quite often they wouldn't tell you what they were going to play—they would just start. … You'd hear OPPOSITE: (top left, clockwise) These days, you'll find Jim Zimmerman performing jazz three nights a week at the upscale Harris’ Steakhouse; Vince and Seward jam at Butterfield's back in the '70s; Cool cat Vince rocks his iconic handlebar mustache; Lee Mendelson Film Productions continues to release Vince's soundtracks today. PHOTOGRAPHY COURTESY OF: DIANE M. SCHULLER
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