Farewell to Marva Wright

On Tuesday, March 23, Marva Wright, blues belter extraordinaire, died from complications of two strokes suffered earlier. She was only 62 years old. Her "real job" was elementary school secretary and thousands of New Orleans schoolkids revered "Miss Marva" as the secretary whose wonderful singing voice could make you happy (or at least almost happy) you were called to the principal's office.

Late in life she took up singing full time, after consulting with her friend Jo "Cool" Davis about the propriety of moving from church singing to blues singing. Since that had been Jo's path as well, he encouraged her. In no time at all, she was shouting and screaming into microphones all over the city, meeting (and impressing) national celebrities. She was a hard-working woman with a strict work ethic, requiring her band to be on time and always giving 100%. (Indeed, there are some -- and Big Man is among them -- who feel that Marva's second stroke was brought on at least in part by her returning to work so soon after the first one.)

Those of us who reveled in her performances will never forget her inimitable style, her wardrobe of wigs, her professionalism, her complete dedication to putting a song across. Her long-time gig was in a club on Bourbon Street just down from where Big Man plays 5 nights a week. Often when he got off from his regular gig, Big Man would walk over and sit in with Marva. "Hey, Horn Man!" she would call to him as he entered the club, and call him up to the stage. She enjoyed his playing, though I'm sure she could not call his name. She was some lady, believe you me.

My sister L and I talked about it, the loss, and how "young" she was. (Hey, you get to be in your late 50s and suddenly early 60s seems REAL young to you!) L worried that memorial tributes to Marva might occur after she and her husband left on Wednesday to see their grandchild in Austin, Texas. When WWOZ announced that Marva Wright would lie "in state" in historic Gallier Hall on Tuesday afternoon, we were glad and made our plans.

Big Man, L, and I drove downtown around 3:30 pm and found a legal parking space on the street (probably because Big Man was with us -- he generally has excellent parkma). In the afternoon light, we strolled through Lafayette Square to the gray granite steps of the old ornate city hall, passing the open pocket doors past the life-size bronze sculptures of male and female figures into the front hallway. Tables filled the entrance way, staffed by 4 elegant Creole ladies who greeted us and offered us guestbooks to sign. To the right, we could see one of the reception rooms set up with chairs in rows and a stage with a drum set and bristling with microphones, where I guess the actual service was to be that evening.

Then we went to our left into the main double parlors of the Hall, where Miss Marva was laid out in a shiny mahogany and brass casket. There were floral arrangements aplenty, including a tall microphone and stand made of chrysanthemums from the Jazz and Heritage Foundation, a lovely arrangement of hot pink lilies from Marva's long-time guitarist Benny, a giant bunch of white roses and white and green baby orchids from Marva's husband and children, an NOPD badge formed of flowers from the department's Sex Abuse Division (??), a stand of roses from Harrah's, and another arrangement from the Ritz Carlton. There was also a mystery arrangement with a card that simply said, "From a Friend."

Marva looked GOOD. Whoever the undertaker was had done a terrific job on her makeup, very lifelike. She was wearing a spangly silver and white dress that she used to perform in, and was completely accessorized with bling -- tiara-like headband, necklace, bracelets, earrings and rings. In her hands was tucked an immaculate white linen and lace handkerchief. She was sporting one of her characteristic wigs -- but not the one she's often pictured in, the one with the big fat Shirley-Temple corkscrew curls.

Around the casket on easels were poster collages of photographs of Marva on stage, Marva in concert, Marva with John Goodman, Marva being kissed by Paul Shaeffer, Marva at Jazz Fest, Marva with her band, Marva with her husband and her children, and on and on. We looked carefully at all the pictures, remembering. We were glad we had come, and L was especially glad it happened before she left town.

Rest in peace, Marva, we love you.