Michael Biggs

Mike and I met when he came to Dartmouth as a freshman. Our fathers had been friends for years in the Bohemian Club; he played a fabulous ragtime/dixie stride piano and I was a fledgeling tenor banjo player.

In spring 1951 we found ourselves in Dick's house during a measles epidemic, and were overflowed to the DOC house on Occom Pond.  there was a piano there so Ron Dunton, and I got our instruments and spent our encarceration jamming and decided to spend Spring Break in Florida; none of us ever having been there before. I had a 1940 pontiac sedan, and we headed off for Miami, via Bennington College where we played a gig and picked up some new material. Several days later we arrived in Miami Beach. we got a gig playing at the Frolics Club on S W 8th St and the Tamiani Trail, backing Strippers and Wednesday night was Ameature Night and college girls would strut their stuff. we then moved to Ft. Lauderdale and were playing for "Tea dancing" in the afternoons at the Banyan Club in Dania. an unforgettable trip.

We maintained our friendship over the next 50+ years at the Bohemian Club and the Grove Encampments where his Brother Tony and I have been Campmates for close to 40 years.

Mike was always enthusiastic about life and music and will always hold a place in my heart and my memories.

God Bless and Vaya Con Dios.

Smokey 

 

My biggest regret about Mike's passing is that we never got together after 1954. We managed to miss each other's reunion attendances although we did share Christmas cards and semi-frequent e-mails over the years. When we matriculated in Hanover in the Fall of 1950, we really didn't get to know each other as we went our separate ways musically, Mike to The Sultans (nee Indian Chiefs, I think) and I lucking out with the Barbary Coast Orchestra. We pledged Sigma Nu together the following Fall, and there began our three year four-hands-one-piano collaboration on the House's grand, Mike on top, of course, as he had the technique, the fingering, the knowledge, the everything, as i backed him up with chords on the bottom. We managed to entertain pro bono at most every party that Sigma Nu ever had. It was a wild and crazy time, but I was working with a master, and we did have FUN! Variety Night in March 1953 found us with two grand pianos at Webster Hall where we did Tenderly and Perdidio. No one but me will remember the "senior" moment I had early in Tenderly except that it was recorded and now transferred to a CD. Otherwise, we did good, and, once again, I was honored with his immense talent. He was a very special guy. I cherish his memory and send love to Ginny and the kids. Skip

My memories of Dad:
I remember once in elementary school when some friends of mine had a sleep over in the backyard on my birthday. A meteorite decided to burn up in the atmosphere overhead, seemingly filling the sky with light. We, of course, all ran inside as fast as we could. Dad pulled out a World Almanac, and gave us a talk about the Pleiades meteor showers that come every year.

He loved astronomy and the weather and the outdoors, and bought an Almanac every year so he could track them. I recently found an up-to-date notebook where he recorded the daily high and low temperatures, as once did President Jefferson.

Another thing that stood out was his remarkable memory. I remember when an old friend of his once came visiting and they pulled out a photo album. They found a picture of their third grade class. "I remember some of these people!" his friend said. My father said, "so do I", then preceded to name everyone in the picture. He was always like that. Like a walking Google before the Internet, he's the one we would always go to if we forgot something (even my friends' birthdays). Once we were in a car ride with family friend and teacher who was talking about teaching about the Presidents. My father took that as a challenge, and named every President, Vice President, and the years that they were in office. He didn't sit around memorizing this stuff. These things just stayed in his brain until he needed them.

It helped him in his investment job and with his music playing, but I think it was most useful because he loved people and talking with people. His incredible mind and varied interests allowed him to engage in good conversation with almost anyone about anything they were interested in.

And of course his music...my sister and I have the same memory growing up. After we went to bed he would practice the piano for hours. If it was a fast beat, then his foot would stomp and shake the whole house. But often it was just lyrical, beautiful, improvisation. You would think that we'd never get any sleep, but it was part of the ritual--we knew we were home and we were safe, and despite our best efforts, we went right to sleep.


Most of all what I will always keep with me are his sense of humor and positive outlook on life. I can only hope that I can pass these traits on to my kids as he has to me.

This is a heart-rending exercise. Not because I'm too busy to assay it but because when one has lost his best friend of some 57 years something's got to give. Be that as it may, the three thousand miles that separated Placerville and Harwich, Cape Cod and Sun City Center, Fl hardly limited the flow of emails and burned cds. We had a short-lived name the artists contest which also included Skip Weymouth, and in which Mike was an enthusiastic participant. But long, long ago Mike and I met beside the piano one Saturday evening at his Sigma Nu fraternity. From that time on the majority of "gigs" I played whether in Hanover or elsewhere included Mike on piano. In 1952, I noticed a subtle shift in Mike's interest in jazz piano players. At the same time, he could entertain us all by stomping off some Dixieland tunes, or some of Scott Joplin's rags. He was much sought after as a solo pianist offering two-fisted Dixieland tunes. He was a mainstay in the Dartmouth Sultans which also featured the legendary Strap Jackman. Increasingly, I heard influences such as Bud Powell, Al Haig and George Shearing. The latter of whom became a friend both musical and personal. Here are some memorable events in which Mike participated: 1) informing me in the early morning hours at University of Vermont at our "gig" there that my wife, Dottie, had made me a father while Ray McKinley was sitting in with us. 2: plotting and implementing lifting Charlie Parker's burned out cigar and my swiping Parker's cocktail napkin; 3) after a Kenton band performance at Dartmouth, Mike and my sharing a beer with Kenton in White River Junction, Vermont; 4) hearing Symphony Sid broadcast on our car radio that our group was going to appear the following weekend at the High Hat in Boston. In sum, as a person, indeed, Mike was unique: in his good humor; in his extemporaneous jazz explorations; in his numberless tales about meeting equally talented jazz artists, and his interest in other human beings. The Morgans will miss him immensely.

Mike was a Dartmouth Classmate and friend who though distant georaphically was never far in spirit  from Hanover and his pals on the Plain. It was my good fortune to see Mike at the Grove in later years as well as at reunions. The years did nothing to diminish his charm and humor.  The memories of those days, the Sultans, Tunerville, haven't faded with time. I only wish we could have met more often in the later years.

 

 Mike would have appreciated and understood these traditional and final words. "And now, it's so long, for in the Dartmouth fellowship there is no parting."