There was that time at LACMA a couple years ago, one of their Friday jazz nights, and I’m chatting with some people. A guy just cuts right in and snarls Hey, is your name really Brick Wahl?   Uh, yeah, it is. Well, how the hell did you get a stupid name like that?

I politely explained. My name is Phil, my wife’s name is Phyll…so I got the nickname, etc etc. He didn’t understand what the hell was wrong with two people having the same goddam name. I said oh well. He said I’m a jazz writer, too. Can you get me a job?  I told him to contact the paper. He thanked me and split.