‘Miles Davis: A Century of Cool’ celebrates musician’s lasting legacy

It’s a celebratory Wednesday night at Musichead Gallery on Sunset Boulevard. Jazz music drifts into the night from an open doorway guarded by a resolute figure in a black suit. Light from an old marquee shines on the sidewalk, trumpeting the evening’s main event in all caps: “‘Miles Davis: A Century of Cool,’ opening Saturday.”

Inside, the gallery’s owner and curator, Sam Milgrom, is ready to reveal his latest exhibition.

“There are a few [photos] in there that I’m really excited and proud to show to everyone, moments that are so important in the history of jazz,” Milgrom says, smiling. “Anyone who loves music should experience this and learn a little bit about who [Davis] was and why he was so damn cool.”

The show celebrates the late jazz musician’s centennial through imagery captured over a career spanning nearly five decades. On this particular evening, friends, family and photographers of Davis gather in Milgrom’s cozy gallery, its walls adorned with photographs, nestled together in slick black frames on either side of the room.

Milgrom has been working on the exhibition in collaboration with the Miles Davis Estate, led by Davis’ children, Erin and Cheryl, as well as his nephew, Vince Wilburn Jr., who are all in attendance. This isn’t their first collaboration; previously, Milgrom hosted a Miles Davis book launch party and a “Kind of Blue” Scotch whiskey tasting at the gallery.

Milgrom is a longtime jazz aficionado whose love of Davis dates to the ‘70s, when he worked in various Detroit record stores and was eventually introduced to jazz rock. It was in Motor City that he spun “Bitches Brew” countless times, and eventually promoted Davis’ albums at his own shop, Sam’s Jams, with help from Warner Brothers.

“Everyone should know not just his name, but what he represented and his integrity for believing in himself, following his path, and following his ideas that led to so many innovations in music,” Milgrom says of Davis.

It wouldn’t be until after the musician’s comeback tour that Milgrom would actually see him in the flesh in August 1981, and it was a moment he would not forget. He recalls the crowd in particular: “Everyone was dressed to the nines … it was an atmosphere I had never experienced before,” he says.

“The love they had for him, [the] respect and reverence and enjoyment of what he did — it was very special.”

When Wilburn Jr. approached him last May about doing a centennial exhibition, he was quick to answer: “Absolutely.”

“It’s been in my mind since last year, and at the beginning of this year, I started — in earnest — putting something together,” Milgrom says.

Images for the show came from a variety of sources. Milgrom began in-house, as the gallery represents nearly 100 celebrated music photographers, including Robert Knight, Mick Rock and William “PoPsie” Randolph. He later looked further afield to tell the complete story of Davis.

“I did my research and made a wish list of people that had taken photos of Miles; ones that I knew from album covers, and ones that I’d seen over the years,” Milgrom recalls.

Other than providing contact information for the people on his list, Milgrom says the estate was hands-off throughout the process. The first time they saw the selected photos was at the opening reception. The family wouldn’t be alone in that experience — many selected photos have never before been seen by the public.

“Whenever I put together an exhibition, if I can say to the photographer or the estate, ‘Do you mind if I look through the proof sheets, the contact sheets, or just give me all the files — let me look and see what’s there,’ it’s a revelation,” Milgrom says.

Tom Copi, one of the exhibit’s featured photographers, attends the event in a two-piece bright yellow suit. The 81-year-old says he chose the ensemble to contrast all the darker outfits in the room.

Copi first met Davis in July 1963. At age 17, he hitchhiked for nine hours from Ann Arbor, Mich., to New York City to see Davis at the Village Vanguard. He followed the famed trumpeter into the venue’s kitchen, where Davis had gone to grab a glass of water.

“He said, ‘What do you want, white boy?’ I said, ‘Well, I hitchhiked here … just to hear you play and tell you how great we in Michigan think you are,’” he recalls.

The musician didn’t reply, but apparently appreciated the gesture. During the second set, he motioned to Copi to come sit on the edge of the stage and listen to the band. It was the first and last time Copi ever spoke to Davis, but he would go on to photograph him eight times in total. Displayed at the exhibition are shots he snapped of him at Newport Jazz Festival in 1969.

Davis’ son Erin arrives early to the opening, and slowly makes his way around the room, shaking hands and greeting friends. He gazes in awe at photos of his father. He says that he’s seen so many photos of his father over the years, but at Milgrom’s exhibit, there’s a “whole bunch of new ones.”

“It’s cool to see stuff from before I was born … in the ‘60s and the ‘50s — it seems almost like fantasy land,” Erin says. “There’s one with him and Spike Lee that I’ve never seen before.”

“I lived out here in Malibu, but I heard that they went to Knicks games together with Jellybean Benitez, and I was like, ‘What? Can we go to a Lakers game or something out here?’” he adds, laughing.

Erin is the youngest of the relatives at 55 and didn’t become directly involved with his father’s music until he was 14, when he joined Davis on tour in 1985. He moved in with his father a year later.

“I’m as guilty as anybody at creating narratives about people and albums, records and concerts,” Erin says. “But he has plenty of narratives out there that people cling to. To me, I had him as he was, no narrative. Midwest values but New York sophistication, attention for Italian automobiles — a very different person.”

At that point in his life, Erin says Davis was still constantly working on some form of art. Whether that was playing on stage with the band, drawing, or painting huge canvases, he was never “sitting around, doing nothing.”

“He wasn’t the kind of person who went on vacation and laid out in the sun by the pool,” Erin says. “I was just trying to get to know him as a dad and as a bandleader and the boss of our whole organization.”

Eventually, Erin would go on to co-manage the estate. “I couldn’t have a better job,” he says of the work, which includes constantly discovering new parts of his father’s catalogue. Davis, he says, never kept any old records lying around the house.