Era ends, couple awarded for service to jazz

There was a bittersweet moment last Thursday at a Jazz Artists of Charleston reception.

The presenting nonprofit was kicking off its spring series with a party for its donor arm, Friends of JAC.

Amid the lifting of glasses, talk of past accomplishments and plans for the future, Peter and Francoise Duffy were asked to come to the microphone.

The 100 or so folks at McCrady's restaurant took a moment from the music of Pulse Trio and the terrific food to recognize Charleston's first couple of jazz.

You see, their longtime restaurant, Mistral, a local institution, closed recently, much to the chagrin of many of us who had frequented the French establishment across the last three decades.

The one-of-a-kind eatery, an anchor of South Market Street businesses, sat under French and Irish flags over its welcoming front door.

Peter is Irish, Francoise French.

As far as I know, it was the only place that celebrated Bastille Day and St. Patrick's Day, both with great verve and enthusiasm. Heck, it didn't have to be a special occasion, though, for a party at Mistral. The vibe there was such that with Mistral as an example, Charleston displays the attitude of laissez les bon temps rouler, let the good times roll, just like its cousin, New Orleans.

In fact, the featured live music at Mistral was traditional jazz, what was once known as Dixieland. From the Early Days Jazz Band at the beginning through the New South Jazzmen at the end of the restaurant's run, trad was the centerpiece offered there, much to the delight of hardcore fans, locals and tourists, whose favorite

form that is.

The place bore the stamp of its owner-operators. The Duffys were hands-on, at the store everyday -- managing, hosting, breaking bread with regulars and regaling, especially Peter, any listener with wonderful stories.

Over the years, players of all the styles of jazz went through Mistral. Peter and Francoise liked them all, it didn't matter, as long as it was good.

It was a cool place for players to jam as well. Anyone who could play was welcome. I saw people there from celebrities such as bassist Willie Ruff, to unknown players who just happened to be in the restaurant.

Many a young performer grew up at Mistral.

All manner of sidemen worked with more accomplished players, getting real-world experience in playing jazz that is priceless.

In the mid-1990s, an unknown folk singer named Ann Caldwell took over Mistral's stage. By the way, the stage was no more than 10 square feet of floor space just inside the front door. It was so tight (you could call it intimate) that sometimes people coming in would walk between Ann and her mike stand on the way to their tables. Customarily, the trumpet player would sit atop the piano, a tradition, I believe, started by the late Dr. Michael Tyzack, an internationally renowned artist who taught at C of C.

Ann blossomed at Mistral. The rest is history. She's now Charleston's most popular jazz singer, having just as high a profile as many of the area's fine instrumentalists.

You could say Mistral and its owners were jazz-friendly.

Just about two years ago, the Duffys took a chance on a two-month-old jazz organization, JAC, by allowing it access to its upstairs accommodations to set up a nightclub for shows during the Spoleto Festival. It worked, complete with a repeat series last year. It was called Upstairs at Mistral.

Well, upstairs at McCrady's Thursday, the JAC presented the Duffys with its second annual Jazz Citizenship Award, won last year by Charleston Mayor Joe Riley, for commitment and service to jazz and our local community.

It was a very moving moment.

It was a surprise to them. They thought they were simply attending the party. Just about everybody shed tears and hugged. Tears of shared joy. For a few moments, the feeling there was like a balm on the pain of having lost our treasured Mistral.

The Duffys stand out among jazz fans. They not only love the music, they love and respect the people who create and perform it. That love is no abstract expression, either. They lived it.

For virtually all of a 25-year run, the Duffys paid musicians to play seven nights a week.

You could count on your fingers the venues around the country today that could make that claim.

It's extremely rare.

Just like Peter and Francoise.

Jack McCray, author of "Charleston Jazz," can be reached at jackjmccray@aol.com.