Howell Gwin tells us, “This came to me in a blinding flash of insight. I know not whence it came.”

There was a homeless man, typically dirty and scruffy, who played his flute on the street corners. Passers by would throw coins into his hat. As he made more money, he became more confident and more expert, until one day he decided to end his impromptu recitals with the good old classic “Bill Bailey, won’t you please come home?”. He became, in fact, so expert that he was invited to perform in concert halls, eventually playing in a sold-out Carnegie Hall. By that time he had abandoned his jazz background. However, his audiences never forgot how he had started, and constantly referred to him as

Rampal of the Bailley

Howell followed this a day or so later with:

By the way, the flautist I mentioned the other day has had a lot of trouble with late uninvited guests. He’s now called “Rampal and the Night Visitors”.