"If I don't play for a while, it's just like getting hungry."

The man with the one of the coolest jazz nicknames in history was born John Haley Sims in Inglewood, California. His parents, Pete and Kate Sims, were veteran vaudeville performers with an act called (surprise) 'Pete and Kate'. John Haley was the youngest of seven children; his mother left the act when he was born. Pete Sims continued to work on the stage, traveling for up to a year at a time.

The Sims children were encouraged to learn about music and dance. John's first introduction to jazz came from his older brothers; he spent his childhood listening to records by Benny Goodman, Count Basie, and Duke Ellington. After learning to play the drums in the family band, John studied the clarinet in grade school. Inspired by Ben Webster, Coleman Hawkins, and especially Lester Young, he became interested in the tenor saxophone: "When you begin, unless you're a complete genius, you have to be influenced."

In 1941, at just fifteen years old, John landed his first job as a professional musician with Ken Baker's band. This is where the cool nickname story comes in. Baker had the idea to make up a word for each player, and paint it on the front of their music stand. Sims happened to be standing behind the stand that said 'Zoot', and the name stuck. Good thing he wasn't standing behind the one that said 'Goo-Goo': "I was one of the lucky ones, I guess."

Zoot joined Bobby Sherwood in 1942, making little money, and traveling the country in a caravan of patched up cars. When the war started, Sherwood and many other bandleaders started losing members to the draft: "When the war came, every night we'd say goodbye to somebody." Since Zoot was so young, he still had some time to work and play. He had his recording debut in 1944 with Bill Harris' group. The album was released on the Commodore label under pianist Joe Bushkin's name. After a few more brief stints with the likes of Sid Catlett and Benny Goodman, Zoot joined the army.

When he returned in 1946, Zoot went back to Goodman for another year. This time he played sax along side his brother, trombonist Ray Sims. Zoot worked on and off with Goodman for many more years.

The big break, however, came around 1947 when he joined up with fellow saxophonists Stan Getz, Herbie Steward, and Jimmy Giuffre. All were huge Lester Young fans. The four played together regularly at a club in a mostly Mexican neighbourhood. "That was a funny gig. It was a Mexican ballroom. East Side L.A. It was Mexicans, and we played Mexican stocks. We'd play their music, which we didn't mind doing. I didn't mind it, but then we'd slip in our own music, and they didn't mind it, so it worked out fine." Woody Herman heard about the group and brought it in to work with his band, the Second Herd. Sims, Getz, and Steward were to play, and Giuffre was to write. With Serge Chaloff on the baritone, the sax section became known as the "Four Brothers", after Giuffre's composition of the same name. Al Cohn joined the group in 1948, and became close friends with Sims. The pair worked together on and off for the next 37 years.

After Herman, Zoot spent most of his time working as a freelance musician. Money was often tight, but he was able to pool what he had with other musicians to rent practice studios. He toured with Goodman, Artie Shaw, Chubby Jackson, Elliot Lawrence, Miles Davis, Stan Kenton, Gerry Mulligan, and many others. "I don't even look out the window anymore."

At times he faced criticism for being part of the old, out of touch swing crowd, even though he did play some newer compositions by people like Thelonious Monk and Dizzy Gillespie. For Zoot it was more about personal enjoyment; he didn't feel the need to change his style to suit the critics. "I play the way I play and I'm just going to accept it no matter what it is."

Aside from the saxophone, Zoot was also known for his sense of humour. A frequently quoted line is one where he referred to the erratic Stan Getz as "a nice bunch of guys." Another story had a fan asking how he can play so well when drunk, to which Zoot replied, "Easy, I practice drunk." Perhaps the funniest story, at least in my opinion, is that upon being introduced to Benito Mussolini's son (and told beforehand to say something nice) he said, "Sorry to hear about your Dad." I've also heard that line attributed to Chet Baker though, so that one might not be true.

Getting back to the music, his best work came later in his career, leading small groups on his own and with fellow tenor man Al Cohn. "Playing with Al inspires me. I'm a big fan of his. Yes, a kind of a telepathy does happen. Pretty soon you know what the other is thinking, more or less, and it just comes out."

Zoot did a lot of recording for Norman Granz's Pablo label, recording 15 albums between 1975 and 1984. In 1976 he had a bit of an out of character moment, performing Alec Wilder's "Concerto for Tenor Saxophone and Chamber Orchestra" with the Indianapolis Symphony Orchestra. Zoot was not usually into such grand productions, and preferred to work in small groups, improvising on standards. "I feel equally at home in large or small bands. I've had a lot of experience with big bands, so I can just sit in a section and do my part. Although I like small bands better. There's more freedom - especially if you're the leader. You can play the tune you want and the tempo you want."

In the summer of 1984, Zoot was diagnosed with an inoperable liver cancer. He continued to play and tour right up until six weeks before his death in 1985. In his last few days he reportedly greeted the doctor daily with: "You're looking better today, Doc."

Later that year he was inducted into the Downbeat Hall of Fame. "I want to go out that way – I want to go out playing jazz. I don't want to do anything else."