Harlem and The Bronx (the making of Charlie Tee)

I decided today that this would be a good time to give a bit of a background, indirectly about me, via my parents. I think it will help you somewhat in understanding me and my music just a little better.
I also realize that it may be fairly lengthy, so I may tell this story in a few parts. It's not a complicated story, but some depth is required to convey it and the relationship to my music.
I truly hope that it is as enjoyable for everyone, as it is cathartic for me...
At another point I plan to write about my Sisters, and their role in my musical life...
OK, so here goes...

My father was James Maxwell Tuitt (aka Big Jim, and/or Nicky). He was born on November 17th, 1921, in Harlem. Dad was by all accounts a very positive person ALWAYS. He was just one of those rare people that come along who truly had the courage of their conviction, and I've been told that he was gorgeous in his younger days (he was to me all my life).
Dad was a Navy vet serving in World War II. When he returned home after his service he became a Firefighter with the greatest Fire Dept in the world, New York City. where he remained for 32 years retiring as a Deputy Commissioner.
During that time he also had second profession: he worked as a councelor at the Boy's and Girls' Club of Mount Vernon, NY until he became the director.
Mr.Tuitt loved music, and everything about it. He loved all kinds of music, but he especially loved the cultural aspects of it and how it affected everyone.
I watched my Dad have get togethers and set a mood with music that would make James Bond envious, and he just seemed to know the right thing to say to keep the vibe mellow. In short he could read people really well and get them energized through his choice of music. He was also an accomplished photographer.
My mother was Carmen Loretta Charles. Her birthday was September 12th,1921. She was also born in Harlem (she in fact grew up directly next door to the world famous Cotton Club, at that time located on 142nd Street and Lenox Ave.).
By every account, my mother I'm told was a brilliant woman, she graduated from Julia Richmann High School at 16, unheard of for a Black woman in those days.
Ma too was into music, in her case though more as a listener than participant but she knew style. Carmen had legs to die for and she could dance her butt off. She was heavy but that didn't stop the fellas from trying to latch on to her (a childhood boyfriend of hers once told me that "she just oozed sexiness.")
At some point in their young lives, they felt the need to return to school to take some courses (it was actually night school) and the enevitable happened, they met fell in love and in short order they married.
Now here's the slightly tricky part; my mother's father, a strict West Indian from Antigua did not initially think that it was good idea for Ma to see Daddy much less entertain the notion of being his wife: "men from Monserrat (my Dad's ancestry) don't work, their women do,"was the lament of my grandfather, but the redeeming quality here was music. Not only did my father work, but he shared his earnings with my Grandfather and his family. On Fridays when Daddy got paid he treated my Mom and her family to ice cream and an occasional Friday night dance held someplace in Harlem. This began to breakdown the barriers that my grandfather put up, and years later was a valid point in my life about how to deal with people.
When my parents divorced in my seventh year, for all intents and purposes I could have become a disengaged child, but that never happened for me because although my parents split apart, somehow the bond of their friendship remained and grew stronger. I mean yes they were on the outs as husband and wife but as two friends if you never knew that they had been married you'd think 'at any time these two are gonna get hitched.' You see the reserve tank of friendship kept their machine running for life. It's the one thing that from all of the harsh realities of them divorcing that made it palatable...they stayed friends, and even forgave.
My Mother was employed at The Bronx District Attorney's Office, and for 16 of 32 years she was the adminstrative assistant to the Bronx DA. and the first African American woman to hold the job, a first for New York City
My parents were at once loving, caring, strong and visionary. They were the kind of people that you didn't ever want to make mad because they were eloquent enough to cut you down like a tree, but plant you and watch you grow all with words.
When I decided in my life that I wanted to be a musician, without any hesitation at all they got behind me and encouraged me. Lessons, recitals, gigs, saxophonist sideman, vocalist, they went through it all with me always pointing out things that needed work or things that were great about what I was doing.
Disappointments were many in my young musician days, tears flowed freely and often, and through it all the Tuitt family used style and grace to help shore me up.
One of the things that I am most grateful for was the exposure to all kinds of people and music.
My Mom never understood opera but she took me to see it because I thought that it would be good for me. My Dad took me to jazz concerts around the city, at one point I even got to spend my entire Summer playing with the Count Basie band and was a featured young saxophone soloist, and I got paid to boot (not bad for a kid from The Bronx, huh!?).

There is so much that I owe to my parents that this post could never hold it all so I'm gonna end this part here.
If you want to keep up with these particular posts they will be numbered after this along with the same title. I hope that you enjoy them.