Charlie Haden: The first bass players I heard were the guys on the records with Bird, Curley Russell and Tommy Potter. There were also guys with Stan Kenton, like Don Bagley, and the bassists with Jazz at the Philharmonic. But the first guy who was really distinctive to me—when I was 19 or so—was Paul Chambers, who I heard on all those Prestige and Riverside records. There’s an underrated player! He had a way of playing chromatic notes in his bass lines that was just unreal. He would go up in to the high register, and then skip down, tying it together. He had this great sound, and this great time. He and Jimmy Cobb really got it together for Kind Of Blue with fire and subtlety. Bill Evans’ comping is so inspiring on that record, too. That’s why those heavy horn players played so great on that record: Bill Evans, Paul Chambers and Jimmy Cobb.

I used to see these pictures of Paul in jazz magazines, and it always looked like his eyes were watering, like he had tears in his eyes.

One night the Miles Davis quintet with John Coltrane, Red Garland, Paul Chambers and Philly Joe Jones came to Jazz City, a club off of Hollywood Boulevard, across from Peacock Lane. I went by myself and sat in the front row right in front of Paul. I stared at Paul Chambers the whole set.

People throw around the words “jazz” and “bebop”—I’m not sure sometimes what they mean. To me, “jazz” meant Bird. Bird and Bud Powell.

I got to see Bird in Omaha when I was fourteen with JATP and later when I arrived in L.A. in 1956, I went to hear the Miles Davis quintet. Man! You could sit in front of these guys and feel the power. The feeling of spontaneity from each musician allied with the technical part: the harmony, the voicings, the cymbals, the bass ... together, it could have generated electricity.

I know if I had got to sit in front of Bird, Bud Powell and Fats Navarro, it would have been the same power.

So, I was watching Paul Chambers to see if he had tears in his eyes. It looked like he did. He looked so great playing, man. Then, when the set was over, he came right over to my table. “Man, you were looking at me the whole time!”

I told him my name, and that I was a bass player, that I loved his playing and that every picture I had seen of him and on stage tonight it looked like there were tears in his eyes.

He looked at me for a moment, and said, “I do. I cry.”

I said, “Man! That is so great!”

He asked to sit down and we hung out for a minute. Look at a picture of Paul Chambers: something about his features is like somebody who was feeling life very deeply. Really something.

Ethan Iverson: Can I ask you about some other ’50s bass players? What about Red Mitchell, who you heard on the Hampton Hawes records.

Haden: He was playing sort of like pre-Scotty LaFaro. He was a piano player, and used his piano concept in his bass solos. I noticed him working that out in Red Norvo’s trio, too. He was a sweet guy and a great bass player, and gave me the Art Pepper gig that I met Hampton Hawes on. Actually, the first night it was Sonny Clark, and what a revelation that was, but then the second night it was Hampton, who would become an important friend.

Iverson: Eventually you would make a duet record with Hawes, As Long As There’s Music. That is an important record, not just because of the considerable beauty of the music itself, but also because it documents a pure ’50s bebop piano player’s first baby steps into freedom. I don’t know of another like it. Did you check out Oscar Pettiford?

Haden: Yes, I did. I didn’t ever meet him, but Paul Motian told me about him a little bit. He had a clear melodi