World’s Greatest Drummer?
One day back in the ‘60s, a letter shows up in one of New York City’s post office locations addressed simply, “To the World’s Greatest Drummer.”

“What do you make of this?” asks the puzzled postal employee of his associate.

“Hmm. ‘World’s Greatest Drummer.’ Oh, I know who that’s for. That’d have to be for Max Roach. He’s up in Harlem. I can get that to him.” He takes the letter.

Next day, handed the letter, Max smiles and says. “Well, that’s very nice that you thought of me. But, you know, there’s this younger cat, guy named Elvin Jones everybody’s talking about. I have a feeling that’s who this letter is really meant for.”

A day later, Elvin’s looking at the envelope. ““World’s Greatest Drummer!‘” How ‘bout that! Ha-hah. That’s really flattering, man, but hardly anybody knows me, just the inside jazz guys. No, you know who they’re probably thinking of? Buddy Rich. Betcha anything.”

Now it’s up to Buddy’s place. Buddy reads the outside of the envelope and promptly tears it open. And he reads, “Dear Ringo...”