In the spring of 1990, after visiting the Blue Note in Greenwich Village, Jazz 966 CEO Sam Pinn and Arnold Freeman had a vision. They believed that the same caliber of talent and passionate audience they witnessed in Manhattan could thrive on Fulton Street in Brooklyn — specifically at 966 Fulton Street.

In September 1990, they sought out Torrie McCartney—a vocalist, activist, and booking agent who would help launch Jazz 966. The venue quickly became known for its world-class performances from legends like Bob Cunningham, Bill Sims, Sweet Georgia Brown, Irene Reid, and the duo of Houston Person and Etta Jones. While Manhattan clubs charged upwards of $100 for similar shows, Jazz 966 kept its doors open to everyone with modest admission fees between $5 and $10.

As emcee, I had the honor of introducing jazz artist Gloria Lynne when we began using the main floor dining area. In earlier years, we had occupied the third floor, which was made resplendent by a vivid mural painted by local artist Kinrod, whose work is still displayed throughout the building.

The jazz staff jelled as the kitchen team of Seydou, Muggy, Tish, Curly, JT, and Ms. Sharperson shared duties. At the entrance, Mildred Scott, Ramona Bhuya, and Harold Valle warmly welcomed our guests. I watched our audiences grow, drawn by the free-spirited dancing, exciting 50/50 raffles, drinks, dining, and social atmosphere – a tradition that continues to this day (minus the alcoholic drinks).

One day in '94, Sam turned to me and said, "Mike, call Harold to the stage during intermission."

"Did he audition?" I wondered. Harold, known simply as "Keeper," hit it out of the park!. His debut left us all stunned.

His prose, poetry, rhythm, and rhyme—those syncopated riffs and solid licks—brought down the house. The night's bass player often joined him, adding depth to his performances. Harold's anecdotal stories and dry humor only added to his stage presence. 

He'd work the crowd with his signature style: "Hey, can y'all guess whose birthday it is tonight? No one knows? Okay, I'll give you a hint—he took a train to Harlem."

At this point, voices would ring out from the crowd: "A Train!" "Duke!" Harold would grin and say, "Free admission next week for that patron—and of course, you gotta bring ten people with you!"

As time went on, he expanded his stage act, peppering in special dates, birthplaces, and compositions of legendary world-class artists who'd graced that very stage.

I could no longer introduce him simply as "Harold Valle." Instead, I'd step up to the mic and announce: "Ladies and Gentlemen—THE KEEPER OF THE SECRETS!"

Harold's body of work provided an endowment to his Omega Psi Phi fraternity, the Central Brooklyn Jazz Consortium, and his beloved venue—Jazz 966.