If I said anything to give you the identity of my "jazz friend", I would appreciate it if you just forgot it. His heirs, who I respect, might object to my revelation of the fact that he never practiced.
Maybe Frogman, or Learsfool could tell us how he selected the musicians to accompany him on what they called "pick up gigs". Although none of them were famous, they were accomplished jazz musicians. These sets were always in what I call "deep in the pocket" jazz clubs, no requests of standards, all improvisation, where the musicians had to really be down with it. "If you can't git down, don't git up".
That last note reminds me of a local jazz musician I knew. When I asked him why he wasn't famous, he explained that he preferred the life of a family man to being on the road, and then he opened a large album of photos which contained photographs of him accompanying many very famous musicians when they came to town.
The last time I saw him, he really put on a show. Since he knew all my favorite tunes, not only did he nail them, but he added his own licks which indicated, not only did he have what it took, but that he knew he had what it took.
I recall an interview of Horace Silver by a famous DJ, where Horace was telling him about problems with his bass player. "He told me that he was tired of playing that same old "beeng bong", I told him that's what makes my sound, I've got to have that "Beeng bong". he wanted to stretch out and make it known that he could play more than "beeng bong". I don't recall how Horace resolved that issue, but if you listen to the 1956 version of Senor Blues, with Hank Mobley, tenor sax; Donald byrd, trumpet; Doug Watkins, bass; Louis Hayes, drums; you'll hear how "beeng bong" blends in with the piano and makes that jam so spectacular. Maybe Horace gave him a raise, I don't know, but this is a remarkable revelation to both sides of that "beeng bong" coin.