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Dontae and Tap needed a hard surface in order to maximize the effect of their performance; prefer- ably wood. However, the floors in the dining area were carpeted. So we decided to lay three quarter inch tongue and grove plywood planks over the carpet along the entire thirty foot run of the four foot wide aisle which separated the booths. We then taped the seams. As Dontae played Tap would tap dance his way up and down the aisle; within arm's length of tables and booths. I admit that night my stomach was crawling with butterflies. We'd pulled off lots of cool things at the Grill, but nothing quite like this. The performance was scheduled to start around 7 pm. But these guys were artists and art- ists are notoriously late. So I figured 7 pm would be more like 7:30. For most of the patrons, outside of family and close friends, details of the performance was a total surprise. At 7:13 Dontae strutted through the front door toting a black trumpet case. He dipped into the stairwell down into the lower level where Tap was waiting. He apologized for being late as he approached me. Then he rested his case on my desk and removed the brass trumpet. It was polished to a shiny clean finish and glinted in the reflection of the light. I was slightly less nervous, but the butterflies were still fluttering. The lights in the dining room were already dimmed, but we dimmed them a bit more, prompting the loud chatter to suddenly hush into subtle murmurs. Dontae stood silently at the base of the stairs. Anticipation swept through me as I rushed up the stairs to catch a glimpse from top side and to signal to tap that Dontae was ready. Suddenly, Dontae lifted his muted horn to his lips and blew a slow melody that sounded as soothing as a poem. As he played, he calmly climbed the stairs, coming to a stop once he reached the top; where his sound erupted into a set of finely orchestrated riffs, hitting note after note with Miles Da- vis like precision. His timing and space between notes were reminiscent of Mile's bebop sound, full of measure and introspective scope. In the mid 1940's Mile's trumpet complimented the electrifying and complex arrangements of the great saxophonist Charlie Parker. However, instead of Davis and Parker, it was Tap and Dontae Winslow. The duo was classic. Winslow's demeanor and improvisation reminded me of why I love the trumpet sound so much. It's always been one of my favorite instru- ments; especially when the instrument is muted. Now even the subtle murmurs hushed to a deafen- ing silence. Everybody was mesmerized---including me. Tap, wearing a black fedora, was seated nonchalantly at the rear of the restaurant. He rose to his feet and began to tap in synch to Dontae's trumpet. It was like magic. I looked around the room catch- ing glimpses of people's reactions. Our patrons were a mixed age group of young and old. I'm sure it took some of the older patrons back to an era long past when Baltimore was the harbinger of the great jazz tradition. But that night was more like Harlem's Cotton Club than Baltimore's Royal The- Excerpt from novel "Redwood" by A. Rod Womack