Many will know William Minor for his jazz piano playing, including work in a popular combo with bassist Heath Proskin and singer Jacqui Hope. But he’s also built a healthy portfolio of writings and artwork that come from living an eventful life informed by music, art, travel, philosophy and a touch of impulsiveness.
He’s just published Going Solo, his second memoir, covering his life from 1953-58. In it, he chronicles his breaking out of the conformity of the 1950s, the ridiculousness of his college fraternity, and the authority of his father by following the guidance of poets like Rilke and Camus.
He went to study at Pratt Institute and jumped into the milieu of New York. He got a gig playing at the FourFiveSix Club. He studied abstract expressionist art under Philip Guston. He attended music events at the home of Yuri Kochiyama.
“It was an exciting time,” Minor says. “Almost too exciting.”
Two years before Kerouac published On the Road, he hitchhiked with a friend across the country, hitting spots like El Paso and Denver before he landed in Santa Monica, washing dishes at Big Jack’s Drive-In in the company of winos and James Dean wannabes. He contracted a disease that caused his hands to swell up, which precipitated his return to Michigan for an operation.
That’s when he ran into Betty, his former eighth-grade steady, who would later become his wife. Minor describes these twists and turns as “incredible accidents” that signal new chapters of his life. And he tells the story like a stretch of improv jazz, half-preordained, half-spontaneous, all skillful.
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