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A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z

 

 

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An Anecdotal Account of Bourbon Street And Related Jazz Music Venues 1976-80

Tom Smith Pfeiffer University Misenheimer, North Carolina

..........In these days of historical revisionism, it has been customary to discount the musical importance of the New Orleans thoroughfare known as Bourbon Street. It has been stated by some that Bourbon Street jazz music has been an overstated commercial myth; undeserving of its special place in the annals of jazz history. Yet, it cannot be denied that for all its superficiality, post World War II Bourbon Street was civilization's most vibrant and durable home for a kind of music most appropriately labeled neo traditional jazz. In no other location, did so many clubs continuously employ as many jazz musicians, for so long a period.

I have often harbored suspicions as to why jazz pundits accorded so much historical documentation to other jazz revivals while downplaying this one. It could be said that New Orleans jazz of the nineteen forties and fifties had fewer local personalities with the flamboyance necessary to serve as musical advocates. New Orleans revivalists did not posses their own versions of an Eddie Condon and a Lu Watters to guarantee that portrayals of local music evolved from their base locations in a controlled and politically advantageous manner. In recent years some scribes of New Orleans jazz history have attempted to forward the notion that ambitious music promoters, historians and / or above average white musicians invented a kind of African American New Orleans jazz revival, and then strategically placed it on or within close proximity to Bourbon Street. 1 Yet, despite highly visible promotions of older musicians starting with Bunk Johnson and George Lewis, and leading to the successful nineteen sixties promotions of De De Pierce and Kid Thomas, it cannot substantiated beyond a reasonable doubt that the actions of said promoters led directly to a reinstitutionaliztion of traditional jazz within the Bourbon Street vicinity. In fact a number of African American musicians like "Papa" John Celestin performed regularly on Bourbon Street long before the advent of a "so called" New Orleans revival. 1 This is not to say that said promotional efforts did not amount to a successful resurgence of a popular school of African American traditional jazz music. It is merely pointed out that they did not lead to the invention of a movement. It could be argued that early neo traditional revivals in New York and California possessed leadership more conducive to the tastes and sensibilities of successful commercial marketing. Condon and Watters were essentially traditional jazz musicians with mainstream sensibilities. They were energetic and colorful men, who forwarded qualified jazz offerings, marketed towards a conservative middle aged white America. Despite numerous attempts to similarly package African American New Orleans jazz musicians in the nineteen fifties, it was not until the ascension of Preservation Hall before local African American New Orleans jazz experienced visible fruition on a world wide scale.

When Bourbon Street decided to market their own brand of neo traditional jazz in the late fifties, they chose the path initiated by their revivalist predecessors, by selecting the white mega successful Al Hirt to carry its banner. In all fairness, no movement could have chosen a more charismatic or talented personality to lead it. But, in the estimation of some musicians, Hirt's subsequent notoriety as a mainstream pop musician occasionally damaged the credibility of the same neo traditional New Orleans music that was his forte'. It was argued that superficial enthusiasts were confused by the direction of a Bourbon Street that considered AI Hirt its leader. 3 Beginning in the early seventies, clarinetist Pete Fountain appeared to pass Hirt in importance among Bourbon Street followers. Fountain appeared more devoted to neo traditional jazz than his predecessor. In addition to his numerous performances of traditional jazz on national television, Fountain occasionally fronted big bands of a similar style, and in general appeared more aware of his role in the revival movement. Not coincidentally, it was at this juncture that Bourbon Street experienced its last ten year injection of financial success. Without becoming embroiled in a discussion about the merits of the various schools of Bourbon Street jazz, it would be safe to assume that the media package propagated by Hirt and Fountain fit more readily into a travel and tourism brochure. By the early seventies, Bourbon Street had become saturated with predominantly white bands based on their format. Some of these disciple bands like the one led by trumpeter Murphy Campo even eclipsed the Hirt and Fountain groups in musicianship.4 On the other hand, many of the weaker versions of this same format were barely professional. Bourbon Street club owners remained loyal to this style for as long as they continued to generate business for their establishments. It was not until the sixties that road tours and mail order recordings, ( called Jazz Crusade ), of the highly visible and predominantly African American Preservation Hall band provided a viable alternative. By the early seventies, with the backing of a vibrant promotional team, and with the closing of the similar Dixieland Hall, Preservation Hall snowballed into an empire all its own. When Preservation Hall became more corporate, it organized and supported many bands simultaneously. By the mid-seventies, these bands had become more popular than their Fountain / Hirt counterparts. 5 Competitions for media attention divided the two packages into rival promotional camps, with Preservation Hall eventually attaining predominant commercial recognition; at least in regards to live jazz music on Bourbon Street. Despite Preservation Hall's victory for the heart of neo traditional jazz aficianados, there were still more Bourbon Street venues performing the Hirt / Fountain genre of jazz music in the mid to late seventies. Although I sometimes enjoyed the Preservation Hall bands, I usually gravitated towards the Hirt / Fountain groups. I enjoyed the frequent modulations, the brisker tempos, and the fact that there was more of them to choose from. My choices were not so much judgment as preference. For these reasons my jaunts to Preservation Hall as a paying customer were limited.

Observations and Routine Procedures

For four years beginning in 1976, I spent from two to six nights a week on Bourbon Street. I listened, I explored, and I played trombone in several venues. As a nineteen year old college student, it was the kind of environment that infiltrated consciousness and generated lifetime memories. During my time there as a familiar face, I always pondered why serious jazz researchers seemed content to ignore what was happening. The general public certainly did not. The place was always packed. At any given time there were upwards of a dozen jazz clubs performing simultaneously on Bourbon Street and its connecting streets and alleyways. This activity regularly occurred twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. Rampant energy of this kind did not come without a price. Bourbon Street certainly had its seedy side. For every jazz club, there were three venues of questionable virtue. These included everything from amyl nitrate vendors and unpretentious strip joints, to cabarets that featured sub par female impersonators. Included in this mix were a wealth of street musicians, dancers, piano bars, and restaurants representing every level of quality. Entertainers like Clarence "Frogman" Henry had home bases there. There were also establishments that featured disco music, that by this time had just started to develop afoot hold in the French Quarter. For the young and uninitiated, the true magic of Bourbon Street was the combined sounds, sights and smells of this simultaneous activity. Few places ever closed their doors. Most stayed wide open with sounds and aromas filtering out into the open air like a gigantic version of Duke Ellington's "Harlem Air Shaft." It actually took two or three trips for a person's senses to fully develop the ability to filter out individual bands. The first visit was little more than sonic overload. For those like myself who were always short on cash, the open air environment provided a continuous source of free entertainment. Often was the night when I arrived at Bourbon with no more than a couple of dollars in my pocket. Sometimes I showed up with no money at all. On those nights I would simply walk up and down the street; never altering my tried and tested routine. My first stop was always the Paddock Club where I would catch five minutes of a James Davis set, looking directly through the front door. I would subsequently peek through the windows of the Famous Door before rushing to the Maison Bourbon to hear the final ten minutes of a Tommy Yetta or Roy Liberto set. When the doorman of the Maison Bourbon had sufficiently persuaded me to move on, I would cross St. Peter's to hear yet another band. I would conclude my journey by gazing through the darkened windows of Preservation Hall. When I had decided that I had successfully identified all of the bands necessary for observation that night, I would repeat the identical procedure backwards until I had returned to the Paddock Club. I often did this as many as a dozen times a night. The comer of Bourbon and St. Peters was considered one of the principal tourist areas. Many of the busier high profile clubs existed there. It was also one of the streets everyone traveled to get to Jackson Square and the Cafe DuMonde. After a course of beignets and coffee on the riverfront, refreshed music fans would either walk back to Bourbon or retire for the night. For my money, the two best clubs on this comer were the Maison Bourbon and Crazy Shirley's. The Maison Bourbon in particular seemed intent on carving for itself a piece of the revival movement. Bands of this type performed there constantly. An excellent group could be heard there as early as ten in the morning.

Crazy Shirley's

Crazy Shirley's featured many bands, but was primarily known as the home base of Murphy Campo's highly regarded outfit. When musicians finished their own engagements, they headed for Crazy Shirley's to hear Campo. 6 Few Bourbon Street bands had a home base. Most moved continuously from club to club. Campo stayed at Crazy Shirley's for years. I felt it was not only one of the best revival bands in the French Quarter, but maybe the best ever. I was not alone in this assessment. Unfortunately, this band was seldom recorded. Murphy did release some albums of an earlier group, but it never matched up to the one I heard. Only legend and word of mouth remains to verify the quality of the music that occurred nightly at Crazy Shirley's. Murphy Campo was a bearded, middle-aged man who weighed in excess of three hundred pounds. His trumpet playing combined technical fluency and drive with a pure, almost fluid tone that was widely admired by many classical musicians. His musical standards were very high, and he surrounded himself with performers of like ability. Murphy's problem was that for all of his own remarkable gifts, he suffered from a serious Al Hirt complex. A full decade younger, he had lived in his predecessors shadow his entire adult life. After Hirt became a household name, Murphy appeared intent on trying to outdo him as a musician. His pitfall was in trying to best the master entertainer at his own games. Campo's band regularly performed Hirt's own routines faster and with better technical facility. He also modulated to different keys repeatedly during the performance of a single selection. Musicians from other bands marveled at what the Campo band was able to accomplish. Unfortunately from the standpoint of innovation, Murphy's approach was still Hirt's original creation. Campo failed in not adding to his own sizable and vastly underrated musical voice. The result was that the more talented understudy never escaped the icon's very long shadow. This made Murphy a driven and sometimes cruel man. To his credit, the Campo group always remained an unimpeachable jazz band. Murphy's relative lack of showmanship probably helped maintain the band's musical integrity. Had he been the entertainer Hirt was, chances are his group would have never maintained its substantial artistic depth. Campo really should have received more credit for advancing the revival movement than he did. Instead, his appreciation remains primarily local. Needless to say, Crazy Shirley's was my jazz club of choice. My favorite spot there was a barstool located about seven inches to the left of drummer Milton Rich's ride cymbal. Milton Rich was, and still is, one of the most talented drummers to ever perform in the French Quarter. He propelled a world class rhythm section that included Trevor Holladay on bass, and Phil Morgan on piano. Everyone on Bourbon Street respected him. Milton was a hardedged Crescent City native with a heart of gold. He was once kind enough to take me under his wing when he realized my interest in his music was serious. The night I got my union card, he sacrificed all of his cherished set breaks from Crazy Shirley's to escort me to the clubs, so I could have a proper Bourbon Street debut. He literally threatened several bandleaders with physical harm for not letting me play that night. When we got to the Famous Door, he yelled to the band, "Hey, this kid's with you," and shoved me through the door. Everyone found Milton's attempts at charm to be mostly uplifting if not occasionally disarming.

Campo's clarinetist was Oscar Davis, another man of immense girth and even larger musical talents. He was one of a handful of clarinetists on the street considered part of the "A" list. Some of the others were Jim Neihaus, who usually played with trombonist Lou Sino, the great Louis Cottrell, Hirt's long-time sidekick PeeWee Spitilera, and of course Fountain. Actually, Bourbon Street had a number of amazing clarinetists. It was the first thing that musicians noticed. Even when Fountain sold his Bourbon Street club for loftier surroundings at the Hilton, it was still a clarinet haven. One night, news reached Oscar that his beloved mother had passed away. Despite his devastation, he remained on the bandstand. As he continued to play, something came over him. I found I could not take my eyes off him. He was practically glowing in the dark. When Murphy called for "Tin Roof Blues", Oscar elevated everyone and everything around him. It was one of the best exhibitions of clarinet playing I had ever heard. The audience in attendance burst into thunderous and extended applause, a rarity for knowledgeable French Quarter patrons. When the set was over, Oscar trudged up to the bar and stared blankly into space; never acknowledging the presence of anyone, while maintaining that trademark "sourpuss" look on his face. Earlier, we had all thought that he was probably looking for someone to talk to. But, after his remarkable performance, we instinctively understood that conversation was unnecessary. His clarinet had just spoken volumes.

Many French Quarter regulars felt the one sustaining weakness of the Campo band, and for that matter all Bourbon Street bands, were its trombonists. Murphy had used some decent ones like Tulane jazz researcher Paul Crawford, 7 and some very good ones like Bob O'Rourke and a very solid musician named Tom Geckler. Other notable Bourbon Street trombonists included Preservation Hall's "Frog" Joseph, journeymen Wendell Eugene and Rick "Cougar" Nelson. Yet, few of these musicians with the possible exception of Nelson matched up to the performers featured on the other front line instruments. 8 For many years, Bob Havens had been the king of revival trombonists and the equal of any New Orleans style musician. His time with Hirt made him a worldwide star. When he joined Lawrence Welk's television show a few months before 1960, a great void was left on Bourbon Street. Then in 1977, I felt the void left by Havens had been temporarily filled. That summer, my jazz trombonist father, along with the rest of my family left North Carolina and moved to New Orleans. It had always been "Pop's" dream to perform regularly on Bourbon Street. After hearing all of the French Quarter trombonists for a full year, I felt he would draw a great deal of attention. That is exactly what he did. After a brief initiation period, "Pop" became the regular trombonist for Tommy Yetta's very talented band. Yetta, a contemporary of Campo and lifelong rival, saw in my father an up on Murphy, and exploited his advantage at every possible opportunity. 9 I watched Murphy and Oscar Davis eye my father on numerous occasions. At the time, Yetta played the early evening shift at Crazy Shirley's before Campo's band assumed the nine to two o'clock shift. My father's time with Yetta amounted to a paid audition for Campo. I remarked to a college friend that Murphy would not allow this new setup to last. Six weeks after Pop joined Yetta, Paul Crawford gave his notice to Murphy. Two weeks later, my father was Murphy's new trombone player. Campo and Yetta would continue to battle for my father's services for the next two and a half years. One time Yetta lured him back by offering him an earlier time slot at the Maison Bourbon. With this arrangement he could be home at a more reasonable hour. Eventually, the superior musicianship of the Campo band brought my father back after a short while. He then remained with Campo for the next two years.

Notable Characters

A new face appeared on Bourbon Street when my father arrived. My mother began to frequent Crazy Shirley's on a nightly basis. From her perspective as a former social worker, she was drawn to many of the street people and assorted characters who were integral components of the Bourbon Street night life. Everyone's favorite street personality was a flamboyant older tap dancer named Porkchop. Five feet three inches tall and maybe a hundred pounds soaking wet, he was one of Bourbon Street's most enduring features. Tourists from all over the world clamored to have their pictures taken with him. Dressed nightly like an aging British dandy, he regularly parked his mobile act in front of any number of clubs, He would then perform a variety of routines to the music that filtered outside. If more than ten people gathered, he would end his exhibition with a seemingly death defying split that would stun unsuspecting onlookers. He would then remove his worn derby hat, and collect substantial sums of money from his appreciative audiences. On a good night Porkchop made over a thousand dollars.10 His next duty was to report to his wife and business manager known to everyone only as Mama. It was up to him to immediately transfer all of his earnings to Mama's awaiting hands. She was a kind woman who knew that Porkchop would just as soon spend his money as save it. Porkchop's occasional reluctance to part with his earnings provided at least the potential for mild violence. Mama weighed over three hundred pounds and was not bashful about using her sizable bulk as a weapon. Porkchop occasionally tried holding out on Mama, but not often. Second only to Porkchop in popularity among Bourbon Street regulars, was Ruthie. Anywhere else on Earth, this wildly eccentric individual would have been relegated to bag lady status. On Bourbon Street such a person, if persistent enough, could become royalty. In Ruthie's case, she always wore her crown with regal aplomb. To my knowledge, no one knew anything about her pre-Bourbon Street history or why live ducks followed her. Seldom was the time when she was not wearing a pair of roller skates, as she strode aimlessly from club to club. For her nightly finale, she would consume one hurricane cocktail too many and skate into the laps of startled customers. You could set your watch to it. No one ever attempted to correct Ruthie's breaches of decorum. Instead, she was universally embraced for her contribution to the local color. My mother took a special interest in an elderly street dancer named Dutch. She kept an eye on him, talked to him, and tried to see that he took care of himself. Although very intelligent, he experienced a series of dangerous mental and physical lapses. After having endured what appeared to be congestive heart failure, he told Mom that he was going back home to live with his daughter. That was the last anyone ever saw of him. My mother never felt good about what probably happened. Some nights I would see Dutch and Ruthie engaged in what appeared to be serious and highly animated conversation. I often wondered what they talked about.

The Other Places

Besides Crazy Shirley's and the Maison Bourbon, I enjoyed frequenting the Paddock Club. Originally known as Mahogany Hall, it had been the home of the legendary "Papa" John Celestin. There, an aggressive and exciting trumpet player named James Davis held fort. Davis was an abrasive individual who had few friends on Bourbon Street. Despite his alienating ways, all the local musicians praised his talents as an instrumentalist and band leader. He used to excite everyone by "trading fours" with himself, with a trumpet in one hand, and a valve trombone in the other. I also enjoyed my time spent at the Famous Door. This was a club with a long and rich tradition of excellent New Orleans music. It had been the home of past local legends like Sharkey Bonano, Santo Pecora and George Girrard. 11 During the late seventies, trombonist Nick Gagliardi's "Last Straws" were the main band, but there were many others. Two of my favorites were the groups led by trumpeters Roy Liberto and Jimmy Isle. I liked Nick's playing, but I hated those demeaning straw hats he made his band wear. Such attire distracted from the fine music his band played.
Trumpeter Thomas Jefferson was also a regular fixture on Bourbon Street. He was a contemporary of the original jazz pioneers, and was still at that time a very good player and an entertaining singer in the Louis Armstrong vein. It was traditional for the trumpet playing band leaders to sing through most of their last sets. Bourbon Street dates lasted an average of five hours, making it necessary for these musicians to sustain themselves by giving their lips a rest. In the case of aging performers like Jefferson, it was an accepted requirement. He was afforded the rare honor of having a place named after him when the Crab House Restaurant opened a club next door. He played there nightly for about a year, until he became ill. A lot of us respected Jefferson and another trumpet playing leader Alvin Alcorn for remaining very proficient performances at such advanced ages. The wildly eccentric Johnny Home had another good band that was stationed mainly at the Maison Bourbon. He was distinguishable among Bourbon Street notables for his curved bell "Dizzy Gillespie styled" trumpet. His sidekick was the equally eccentric (some would say crazy), clarinet playing comedian Jug Burger. Jug's exploits alone are worth the space of another separate article.
One of the very best all-purpose musicians on the street was George Finola, a trumpeter of exquisite tone and equally impressive invention. George ran the main band at the Blue Angel. 12 Like Murphy Campo, he surrounded himself with top-notch players. The Blue Angel was the first club encountered if you entered Bourbon by way of Canal Street. Their groups were also the hardest to hear from the street because of the bandstand's indirect proximity to the front door. In addition to these inconveniences, the doormen were very aggressive and did not tolerate free listening. If a person wanted to hear music at the Blue Angel, they really had no choice but to go in and pay for it. On numerous occasions, I did just that, and it was well worth it.

No expose of Bourbon Street jazz music would be complete without some mention of the Absinthe Bar. No more than a hole in the wall, it made its mark as being the only jazz club on Bourbon Street that bucked all neo traditional trends. It was the first place I ever saw the very underage Harry Connick, Jr. He was standing on the sidewalk, peeking into the window by the stage. He was always escorted by his notorious stage father, who also happened to be a district attorney. 13 Patrons and musicians of the Absinthe always walked around with amusingly large chips on their shoulders. They saw themselves as warriors in the fight against the "dixielandization" of Bourbon Street. As purveyors of bebop, progressive and fusion jazz, they viewed their position in this predominantly traditional bastion as a form of political statement. Their music was always inventive, thought provoking and quite good. Despite the horrible piano affixed to the stage, groups led by modernist saxophonists Tony DeGradi and Earle Turpinton produced some of the best jazz heard nightly in New Orleans. My favorite Absinthe performer was Turpinton. A Parker influenced altoist, his neobebop bands shied away from "touristy" uniforms and paid little attention to the usually strict Bourbon Street policy of forty-five minute performances followed by fifteen-minute breaks. If his band was playing especially well they would perform for much longer. This delighted the club's mostly local clientele. I remember several early mornings where I watched the sun come up from a seat in the Absinthe Bar. Their last band usually finished at around 7:00 AM. After a night of intense Bourbon Street revelry, I would go down to the river, watch the boats, relieve myself at the only free "no strings attached" toilet in the entire French Quarter and reflect for a moment on what I had just experienced. I would then collapse into a borrowed car, and drive the one hundred miles back to my bed in Hattiesburg, Mississippi. Often, morning classes awaited my attendance the moment I arrived. Being very young, I never felt the need to complain about such a relatively minor inconvenience.

Deterioration and Decline

The winds of change were felt as early as 1978 when a country music club called Chuck's moved right into the heart of Bourbon Street. The deafening blare of their powerful house speakers totally engulfed the thoroughfare's cacophonous balance. A lot of entrepreneurs began to take notice that a successful Bourbon Street club could feature a kind of music deemed alien to New Orleans history and tradition. I recall Murphy Campo's alarm at the increasing influence of Chuck's on Bourbon Street night life. "I can understand most of the music that is not jazz being here," he would say. "At least you can hear the New Orleans in it. But, this country music, I just don't know." The appearance of Chuck's coincided with a brutal recession. With the substantial increases of oil prices in 1979, that were initiated by rampant inflation and international conflicts like the Iranian hostage crisis, a substantial number of regional visitors discontinued their regular weeknight jaunts to the French Quarter. For a few years, New Orleans was exclusively a convention town that catered to a new mainstream America, not all that sympathetic to jazz. During the transition, club owners pulled out of Bourbon Street at an alarming rate. Old club owners who had been sympathetic to jazz gave way to new entrepreneurs with entirely different ideas. 14 There are some observers of New Orleans culture who insist that organized crime had something to do with the philosophical change that led to a de emphasis of Bourbon Street jazz.15 This is probably an over stated notion. Organized crime had also existed on Bourbon Street when jazz was the predominant musical force. It can be reasonably assumed that if live jazz music had remained profitable, the organized crime elements of French Quarter night life would have continued to support it. It would have not been in their best interests to have done other wise.

French Quarter musicians placed all of their hope on the World's Fair of 1984 to save than.16 Temporarily it did. However, the fair suffered from a litany of problems, including its close proximity, both in time and location to the 1982 World's Fair in Knoxville, Tennessee. The New Orleans World's Fair, by all accounts was financially unsuccessful. Some live jazz venues did open at the river front adjoining the fair. But, the event had the unfortunate effect of dispersing jazz to various comers of the city. Never again on the face of the earth would jazz music be as compactly located. My family had seen "the writing on the wall" years before and had already returned to North Carolina. My parents would get depressing reports from New Orleans on a weekly basis. It seemed the strain had taken its toll on the Bourbon Street regulars. One by one they started to pass away. Trevor Holladay was the first. He died of Lou Gehrigs disease before my family left New Orleans. Then came Johnny Home, Thomas Jefferson, Lou Sino, Phil Morgan, Jug Burger, Oscar Davis and Pork Chop. It seemed as if the obituaries would never end. Murphy Campo's demise was the most recent. After Crazy Shirley's closed, he took a job with Fountain's Bob Crosby-styled band. Word got around that he had been fired over an argument about the amount of money Fountain allowed for meals on road trips. 17 The last we heard he was selling cars. He suffered an apparent heart attack in that car lot, and died the next day at the age of fifty-five.

Reflections

In 1989, in my role as a community college artist-in-residence, I imported an ail-star group of French Quarter musicians for two separate concerts of Bourbon Street music. The group was led by my old pal Milton Rich. My father was Milton's trombonist. It had been the first time in nearly a decade that the two close friends had performed together. The significance of the event was not lost on them. They performed for two deliriously happy North Carolina audiences. A new addition to the group was the young clarinetist and Fountain protégé Tim Laughlin. His playing generated many standing ovations, as children danced in the aisles, oblivious to the age and pre-judged hipness of the music they were enjoying. After the first concert, Milton, his wife Frances, my family and the rest of the band attended a reception at my home. I was happy that my wife finally got to meet the people I had spoken of so often. I thought that by meeting them she had learned a little more about me. My attention could not help but be focused on Tim's enthusiasm for the music and what he felt could be New Orleans contribution to it. He continued to say that "If people could keep the faith, we could bring it back to where it was." At that moment I believed him. A full decade later, I continue to hope that he can do it. Unfortunately, a little voice tells me that it will probably never happen.

The warmth of creativity and the bitter chill of reality are constantly at odds in New Orleans. It has been an irreversible condition, interwoven into the very fabric of the city's culture. There is no middle ground in the Crescent City, only good and bad. It is in the quest for the former that New Orleans musicians persist and endure. For a brief time in one of the most unlikely of decades, ( the nineteen seventies ), Bourbon Street musicians advanced far beyond persistence and endurance. They became the care takers of the dominant jazz club scene in the world. Yet, only with time and objective observation, will the significance of their creation be fully evaluated and appreciated.

Notes

1. This notion has been forwarded by promoters like William E. Bissonette for a number of years. A book by Bissonette titled Jazz Crusade: The Inside Story of the Great New Orleans Jazz Revival of the 1960s forwards said premise. The book is laden with references to Preservation Hall, and related philosophical schools of traditional jazz. "Jazz Crusade" is the name of a record production company associated with Bissonette.
2. Telephone interview with Milton Rich, June 17, 1994.
3. This was a common concern of a number of Bourbon Street jazz musicians throughout the 1970s, including: Murphy Campo, Oscar Davis and Tom Smith jr. (father of author).
4. A commonly agreed upon consensus from among Bourbon Street neo traditional musicians of the period. Reiterated during interviews with Jimmy Isle drummer Bob Gardner, October 16-19, 1980.
5. Interview with Tom Smith jr. (father of author), June 16, 1994.
6. Ibid.
7. Noted New Orleans jazz historian Donald Marquis stated to publisher Leslie Johnson in December 1997, that he did not believe Crawford was a regular performer on Bourbon Street during the period discussed. Yet it was verified in subsequent interviews with Milton Rich, (December 5, 1997), and Tom Smith jr. (December 8-10 1997), that Crawford was a regular Bourbon Street performer during this period, and Murphy Campo's regular trombonist at Crazy Shirley's until October 1977. These facts are reinforced by numerous eyewitness accounts of Crawford's whereabouts by the author.
8. Question and answer session with Frances Rich (wife of Milton Rich and regular Bourbon Street observer), April 2, 1997.
9. 1977 observation made by Oscar Davis to the author while at Crazy Shirley's.
10. Porkchop engaged in the unwise habit of brandishing his bank roll in front of his friends and associates.
11. The Famous Door prominently displays a list of notable performers who have performed there next to their entrance.
12. Noted jazz historian Donald Marquis stated to publisher Leslie Johnson that Finola probably did not perform at the Blue Angel during this period. Eyewitness accounts of the author dispute said contention.
13. Campo used to complain that he felt "put upon by forces beyond his control" (real or imagined), to let the young Connick perform with his band.
14. Interview with Frances Rich, Maison Bourbon, January 20, 1997.
15. Donald Marquis et. al.
16. Interview with Frances Rich, Maison Bourbon, January 20, 1997.
17. Telephone interview with Milton Rich, June 17, 1994.

 

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Acoustic Technology for the Identification of Mystery Jazz Recordings

Thomas Smith and Gary Westbrook Pfeiffer University Misenheimer, North Carolina

Januarry 2001

Smith and Westbrook attempted to accurately reveal mislabeled or unidentified wind instrument personnel on historical jazz recordings. A computerized matching system was used to compare unidentified recorded solos called, "mystery recordings" with recorded solos of known performers possessing stylistic attributes.

Motivation

Since the earliest days of recorded jazz, researchers and/or educators have been routinely deterred by incorrect or incomplete personnel identification. Four primary reasons can be credited for said circumstance.

1. Many instrumentalists from the early days of jazz recorded under assumed names. An example of this practice occurred in 1953, when Charlie Parker recorded for other labels under the alias "Charlie Chan." Said deception was perpetrated to protect his exclusivity agreement with Mercury Records. 1
2. Established artists sometimes dispatched substitutes to recording sessions who possessed similar performance characteristics. Years later, researchers sometimes incorrectly identified these substitutes as the intended contract performers. This practice was especially common with artists like Bix Beiderbecke, who were known to confront issues of dependability and/or punctuality. In various stages of inebriation or poor health, Beiderbecke may have replaced himself or been replaced by imitators like "Red" Nichols or Andy Secrest.2 Producers often deceived the record buying public by labeling the substitute as the original contractee, knowing with reasonable certainty that recordings featuring established performers outsold recordings performed by musicians of lesser notoriety.
3. Jazz recording sessions from the first half of the twentieth century were often casual affairs, where producers routinely neglected to list personnel accurately, if at all. Consequently, jazz discographies are inundated with terms such as "unidentified" and "unknown."3 These and similar circumstances have left historians and/ or researchers to trust their ears more than common recording label documentation.
4. After World War II, thousands of amateur recordings were responsible for a plethora of illegal "bootleg" productions, and artist approved clinic sessions, usually distributed for educational purposes. In the field of jazz music, it is appropriate to assume that more recordings of this genre were manufactured than those produced by any facet of the mainstream recording industry. In addition to the causes listed above, note should be made of the thousands of musicians who recorded their own sanctioned concerts, dances, and club dates on a regular basis. Herbie Hancock's frequent practice of recording Miles Davis engagements would alone provide enough material to significantly amend the collective discographies of both men.4

Experimentation With Viable Solutions
As early as the 1960' s, jazz historians and/ or researchers attempted to identifY practical solutions for the problems of mystery personnel identification through a variety of methods, including a process called voice printing. In 1990, Smith initiated experiments using voice imprint technology similar to another technology implemented by long distance telephone companies. VIT was similar to an earlier procedure called sound spectography, where a machine called a spectrograph performed analytical and comparative analysis by converting speech into patterns on paper. Said technology was much like the commonly referred "lie detector" test, where similar data was collected. Unfortunately, like its celebrated counterpart, results were sometimes unpredictable and inaccurate. In 1999, Westbrook concluded that a more accurate result could be attained through exploration of a new computer software called Spectraplus, that featured a similar technolog that was
superior to its VIT predecessors. 5

Procedure
This study was an exercise to test the "Spectraplus" technology. Prior to the study, excerpts were chosen from the 1982 Time-Life Giants of Jazz investigation to determine if selected "mystery recordings" were actually the work of woodwind artist Frank Teschemacher. Smith/Westbrook selected these excerpts because:
1. The editors of Time-Life Records engaged in some of the most extensive research ever undertaken in consideration of unidentified recordings. They "consulted more than twenty acknowledged experts in the United States, Canada and Britain, including discographers, scholars, collectors and musicians." Participants then selected six recordings of unidentified "possible" Teschemachers from an original pool of twenty-five. Each consultant was mailed cassette tapes and asked to vote if the recordings A. Were(Yes) B. Maybe were or C. Were not(N 0) T eschemacher. The Time-Life research also included a (at that time) rare demonstration of "voice-printing" administered by Dr. Henry M. Truby, a distinguished expert in the field of spectography. Despite the study's inconclusive fmal results, no previous or subsequent study has investigated the subject of
"mystery recording" identification with the same attention to detailas the Time-Life/Teschemacher study.6
2. Smith is a recognized Teschemacher researcher. His abilities for eliminating. superfluous Teschemacher nuances and tonal variations were considered necessary in the likelihood ofunforeseen difficulties occurring during the natural progression of the study. Four excerpts were extracted fromthe list of original excerpts. Excerpt one was an improvisedclarinet solo by Teschemacher on the song Founda New Baby. Excerpt two was an improvised clarinet solo by Teschemacher on the song Jazz Me Blues (version two). Excerpt three was an improvised clarinet solo of the song Under the Shade of the Old Apple Tree. Excerpt three was chosen because it was a recording suspected to have included clarinet and saxophoneimprovisations by Teschemacher, recorded by the Howard Thomas Band of Richmond, Indiana.7 For this study, only the clarinet solo in question was tested. Excerpt four was an improvised 1929 Benny Goodman clarinet solo from the song Dinah. When Dinah was originally recorded, Goodman was believed to have been a willing recipient ofTeschemacher's stylistic influence. "Dinah has Chicago overtones with Goodman's fierce interjections recalling the freneticness of Teschemacher."8Throughout his life, Gene Krupa recalled that the younger Goodman often frequented Teschemacherengagements,routinelyhiding from view, so as not tobe seen by hiS mentor.9 Smith and Westbrook contended that the Teschemacher influence on the developing Goodman was highly probable. Therefore, said excerpt was deemed most suitable for stylistic andtonal comparisons of the two men. All excerpts were paired by Westbrook to examine statistical differences. The null hypothesis was that there were no significant differences (p =.05) between paired excerpts. The alternative hypotheses were that there was a significant difference (p =.05) between paired excerpts. The excerpt were tested using a related samples (dependentor paired) t-tests.
The first two pairs analyzed by Westbrook were excerpts one and two. There was a strongand positive relationship between excerpts oneand two (r=.874). A critical tvalue of1.21 was found at thep =.231level. This result led the researchers to retain the null hypothesis that there were no significant differences between excerpt one and two.
Excerpts one and four were analyzed next. There was a strong positive relationship between the two excerpts (r=.874). A critical t value of7.974 was found at the p <00011evel. Thisresu1t led the researchers to reject the nuH that there were no significant differences between excerpts one and four. Therefore, the researchers accepted the alternative hypothesis that there were significant differences between excerpts one and four beyond the p=.05 level.
The next pair analyzed were excerpts one and three. There was a very strong positive relationship between the two excerpts (r =.912). A critical t value of 1.298 Was found at the p =.1991evel. This result led the researchers to retain the null hypothesis that there were nosignificantdifferences between excerpts one and three.
The next pair analyzed were excerpts two and three. There was a very strong positive relationship between excerpt two and three (r=.937). Acritical t value of. 208 wasfound at the p =.836level. This result led the researchers to retain the null hypothesis that there were no significant differences between two and three.
Next,excerpts two and four were analyzed. There was a strong positive relationship between excerpts two and four (r =.918). Acriticalt value of 8.721 was foundat the p <.000Ilevel. This result led the researchers to reject the null hypothesis that there were no significant differences between the two excerpts beyond the p =.05 level.
Lastly, excerpts three and four were analyzed. There was a very strong positive relationship between excerpts three and four (r.=.91). A critical t value of 8.901 was found at the p.<.OOOl level. This led the researchers to reject the null hypothesis that there were no significant differences between excerpts three and four. Therefore, the researchers accepted the alternative hypothesis that there were significant differences between excerpts three and four.

Conclusions
The purpose of this study was to identify the performer on selected "mystery jazz" recordings. Four excerpts were chosen for comparison. Excerpts one (Found aNew Baby) and two (Jazz Me Blues) were performed by Teschemacher. Excerpt three (In the Shade of the Old Apple Tree) was a "mystery jazz" recording. Excerpt four (Dinah) was performed by Goodman. The excerpts were chosen to test the methods of tonal analysis used by Spectraplus. The researchers hoped to find no significant differences (p =.05 between excerpts one, two and three, and significant differences (p =.05 between the fIrst three excerpts and excerpt four.
The results indicated that there were no significant differences (t =1.21, P =.231) between excerpt one (Found a New Baby) and excerpt two (Jazz Me Blues). Therefore, the researchers concluded that both excerpts must be from the same population. The result was expected since the performer of each excerpt was definitely Teschemacher. The comparison of excerpt one and excerpt three (Under the Shade ofthe Old Apple Tree) revealed no significant differences (t = 1.298, P =.199). Smith/Westbrook therefore concluded that the performers of each excerpt must have been from the same population. The comparison of excerpt two and excerpt three indicated no significant differences either (t =.208, P =.836). The researchers concluded that the performers of excerpts two and three must be from the population. Westbrook then compared excerpts 1-3 with excerpt four (Dinah) to examine if Spectraplus was analyzing each individual's tone, or the tone of the clarinet. Excerpts one and four were compared first. Significant differences were indicated (t =7.974, P <.0001). The researchers concluded that the performers of excerpts one and four were not from the same population. The result was expected since excerpt one was performed by Teschmacher and excerpt four was performed by Goodman. Excerpts two and four were examined next. Results indicated significant differences between the two excerpts (t =8.721, P <.0001). The researchers concluded that the performers of excerpts three and four must be from different populations. Smith/Westbrook concluded that excerpts one (Found a New Baby), two (Jazz Me Blues), and three (Under the Shade of the Old Apple Tree) were the same performer (p <05). Moreover, the researchers concluded the excerpts one, two, and three were significantly different from excerpt four (Dinah) (p <.001). Therefore, the researchers concluded that Goodman was not the performer on excerpts 1-3. It is the contention of Smith/Westbrook that the clarinetist on Under the Shade ofthe Old Apple Tree is Teschemacher. Similar Smith /Westbrook studies will be administered to identify the mystery woodwind artist in another Howard Thomas recording recorded one month prior to the tested recording. 10 This artist possesses nearly identical tonal and stylistic traits to the Under the Shade of the Old Apple Tree performer, and demonstrates the stylistic likelihood to have also been Teschemacher. Subsequent analysis of the saxophonists from both Thomas recordings will also be compared to known Teschemacher saxophone recordings, in an attempt to discover if Teschemacher and the Thomas saxophonists are the same person. As a sidebar to this study, the votes from the consultants in the 1982 Time-Life/ Teschemacher study were compared with the Smith/Westbrook research. The Time-Life/Teschemacher vote count for Under the Shade of the Old Apple Tree was as follows: two yes, seven maybe, and eleven nO.ll Two of the consultants voting maybe were Jess Stacy and Artie Shaw; two men who possessed intimate familiarity with the Teschemacher sound and its related nuances.

Long Term Implications
The intention of Smith/W estbrook is to provide a meaningful initiation of studies beneficial towards the development and implementation of similar studies, not necessarily limited to jazz. Based on the preliminary research, music of other genres including, but not limited to classical and indigenous folk music could benefit from the procedure as well. With assessments of twentieth century music a paramount concern to contemporary musicologists, it is crucial that the clarification of inaccurate discographies be addressed, before said inaccuracies become ingrained into the fabric of accurate historical content.

Notes

1. Miles Davis/Quincy Troupe, Miles: The Autobiography (New York: Simon and Schuster Inc. 1989), p.161. Parker was also listed as Charlie Chan in the Massey Hall recording of the same year.
2. Randy Sandke, "Bix Beiderbecke From a Musician's Perspective" Annual Review of Jazz Studies 1997-98 (Latham Maryland: ScarecrowPress 2000), pp.218,244.
3. Marty Grosz, Frank Teschemacher, accompanying booklet for recording Frank Teschemacher /Giants of Jazz (Alexandria, Virginia:Time Life Records 1982) p.43.
4. Hancock's ongoing fascination with personal recording, especially during his tenure with Davis, has been well documented and verified by Davis and others in numerous publications and forums.
5. Spectraplus is an acoustical analysis software program used to analyze musical intensities and frequencies.
6. Grosz, p.44.
7. Grosz, p.47.
8. Vic EIIerby, Notes From Jack Teagarden recording I Got a Right to Sing the Blues (London: Academy Sound and Vision 1989).
9. Telephone interview with Jess Stacy, July 29, 1994, reiterated by Pat Stacy interview, May 20, 1995.
10. Grosz, p. 47.
11. Grosz, p. 47.

Graphs

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Table

click here to enlarge the image

 

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Contributed by:

Tom Smith
Senior Fulbright Professor
Fulbright Professional Specialist Program

 

 

 

 

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From ITA Journal

BON VOYAGE

THE BOB FERREL QUARTET. Bob Ferrel. trombone; Michael Cochrane, piano; Colvin Hill, boss; Yoran Israel. drums. Guest artists: Vinnie Cutro, trumpet; Frank Elmo, tenor saxophone, boss clarinet; Ben Williams, Brion Ferrel, Augie Rivero, trombone; Phil Jones, boss trombone; Jann Parker, narration.

BFM PRODUCTIONS BFM-002 (P.O. Box 10663, Foirfield, NJ 07004; Phone: 973/227-5450) Augie Rivero: 124th & Kuiz; Blue Wild Flower; Hurricane Bop. Bob Ferrel: Bon Voyage; Eulipian's Lament; Blues For The Century. John Coltrane: Brazilia. J.J. Johnson/Slide Hampton: Lament. Oliver Nelson/Bob Hovey: Stolen Momerrts. Edison Narration. Duke Ellington: Mood Indigo.

Bob Ferrel's second solo recording is a testimony to his integrity as a musician. Known in the New York area for his versatility and uncompromising standards, he possesses the good sense to do three things very well he breathes new life into standard jazz repertoire by demonstrating the proper balance of individual interpretation and respect for history; he contributes new material to jazz literature without a hint of self indulgence; and he surrounds himself with very good people. Few trombonists have successfully performed the music of John Coltrane's mid '60s quartet. Ferrel's version of Brazilia is a masterwork of the first order. He possesses both the technique and the creative depth to construct an ideal trombone interpretation. You find yourself listening for what he will do next. Needless to say, the technical qualifications for such a performance are quite high.

Ferrel's support musicians are all world-class artists. Cochrane and Hill are veterans. They provide substantial input without interrupting the flow of Ferrel's personal vision. One of the best things that can be said about the Ferrel sidemen is that you remember little about them as individuals. This is meant as high praise for musicians who could have easily dominated this recording if that had been their intention.

BON VOYAGE does occasionally resort to some minor gimmickery. Too much is probably made of the group's use of a 1905 Thomas Edison phonograph to record two of the tracks. And the title composition showcases too much of the kind of multiphonic theatrics already popularized by Mangelsdorff, Watrous and Wilson. But these are minor transgressions and are easily forgiven. This is a most creative jazz project made possible by a "trombonist's trombonist." May his career continue to be long and prosperous.

Tom Smith Pfeiffer University

 

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CAREER SURVIVAL FOR
THE ENTRY LEVEL
PROFESSIONAL

.The music business is currently saturated with an abundance of uniquely gifted wind musicians. For every working trombonist or saxophonist, there exists a hundred others still waiting for that elusive first engagement. Serious musicians recognize early in their careers that steady work is reliant on a variety of factors in addition to talent. At no time does talent alone guarantee career longevity. It is unfortunate that this insight is not appreciated by many novice professionals. Careers in music are never guaranteed. They are always earned with persistence and hard work. In most cases, the process occurs one step at a time. Unlike other professions, where long term professional goals are advisable, the music business rewards those who are flexible and willing to shift direction at a moments notice. Those who confide in others that in five years they see themselves doing one thing will be sorely disappointed when reality presents other opportunities.

A music career begins with intelligent choices. The music business is constantly changing and evolving. It is the first duty of working musicians to secure employment and to establish themselves within a community of working musicians. This does not occur if there is not a willingness to show flexibility and a certain amount of tolerance. The tolerance issue can be especially difficult for some young musicians. On far too many occasions, highly touted collegiate performers enter professional environments devoid of good manners and professional decorum. They sometimes respond to less than ideal situations with displays of unprofessional behavior. Such practices are counterproductive to the success of a musical performance and are universally unwelcome.

Rule number one is to accept the notion that all professional musicians start from scratch. Confident band and orchestra leaders could care less what college you come from, or how you fared in its artificial pecking order. A serious contractor may refer to these experiences as a possible gauge of talent, but never as an indication of professionalism.

Until musicians accept money for services, they are not considered professional. It is the opinion of some of the more cynical contractors that exclusive performance in the college ranks only indicates a willingness to pay others for the opportunity to perform. This may have been beneficial experience, but it is still nonprofessional experience. Therefore, if you are a collegiate performer known for the possession of an excessive ego, it will be important to the longevity of your career to discontinue that facet of your personality.

A wind musician cannot survive in this era without a willingness to be flexible. Specialization is now the exclusive territory of long-time professionals, who have already survived a number of changes in the business.

The up and coming wind player must be a jack-of-all-trades. Today, symphony musicians perform section work in jazz ensembles. Club musicians perform commercial jingles and radio spots. Jazz musicians back up county and western singers. You do what it takes to be seen and heard.

The disco era of the 1970's and latter advances in synthesizer technology, created a radical shift in the way many wind players shaped their careers. Those who planned ahead and trained in a diversified manner, were able to survive the substantial reductions in studio work, and be successful in other areas of the industry. Those who were limited in their flexibility, experienced substantial losses in income or disappeared from music entirely.

Sometimes, the key to initiating a successful career is in the selection of a proper location. It is a common misconception for wind musicians to believe that substantial careers are born only out of large metropolitan areas. In actuality, many medium sized markets are perfectly suited for career initiation and advancement.

I often refer to the annual rankings of most livable cities for possible career location. It would also be wise to maintain an awareness of areas that demonstrate rapid population growth. In these locations, the expanded musical environment is fresh and new. Often, there are few established contractors and less competition for desirable work. Musical quality in growing locations is consistently respectable. World-class organizations visit these locations regularly to refine production and test out new material. On these occasions, they are usually prohibited by cost restraints from accommodating a familiar core of backup musicians. The void is almost always filled from an existing pool of local musicians.

Almost every middle sized market can boast of at least one first team. This is a core of approximately twenty musicians who are of a world class caliber. Wind musicians usually judge the completeness of a first team in big band terms. For example, if a market can reasonably claim the existence of five outstanding woodwind musicians and ten outstanding brass musicians, they are said to possess a first team.

The difference between major performing markets and medium sized ones are in the number of first teams they possess. Some major cities have fifty or more first teams, whereas some attractive middle sized markets have only one or two. Entry level professionals in these smaller markets avoid excessive competition, and assimilate easier with the smaller number of musicians who essentially perform all of the work. As unusual as it may sound, opportunities are sometimes more approachable in Raleigh or Charlotte than they are in New York or Los Angeles.

Medium sized markets also feature a wide variety of community ensembles and rehearsal bands. These organizations are always in need of new talent. Many maintain an open door policy and require no audition for membership. This is especially true of community wind ensembles. They usually pay little or no money. But, they are great places to be seen and heard. More importantly, they are ideal for networking and staying abreast of the local scene. I personally know of many wind musicians who locate the majority of their professional engagements through participation in such organizations.

Moreover, the community ensemble affords an opportunity for others to observe your talent, dress, language and punctuality. It is important that these ensembles not be discounted. Their participation should be taken as seriously as some paid engagements.

When you are offered that first job in a new location, take it. You might not be given a second chance. Accept any fair financial offer, without argument or negotiation. Once you accept a contract, do not rescind your agreement for another engagement, even if it pays more money. Band leaders remember being snubbed and will sometimes go out of their way to see that other band leaders hear about it.

Allow plenty of time for arriving at the performance destination. Nothing makes a more favorable impression on a new musical contact than punctuality. Do not take liberties with the assigned uniform. If the contractor says to wear brown pants and a blue coat, follow his/her instructions to the letter.

Upon initiating the engagement, keep talking to a minimum. Do not squander a first impression by taking about your accomplishments or how procedures were handled elsewhere. Most importantly, keep negative comments to a minimum, irregardless of the conditions. Veteran performers adapt to less than positive environments and behave like professionals. Musicians with little or no experience complain. .

Once you are established in one venue, continue to expand into others. Make certain that you do not miss opportunities. Successful performance longevity is often contingent upon the number of short-term engagements you are able to string together.

After about a year, a musician can gauge his/her successful assimilation into the local market. Once contractors get to knew you as a musician and as a person, you can allow yourself more freedom to accept the jobs you really want to do, and to be more questioning of your financial worth.

Wind musicians today can work steadily in most locations if they are willing to be reliable, occasionally travel short distances from their adopted territories, and be willing to explore new frontiers.

A wise older musician once told me that the music business should be observed as one wild roller coaster ride. Rarely does a musician rise to the top and stay there forever. He compared his life to that of a stock broker who made prudent decisions during bull markets, and remained calm and vigilant during bear markets. A market will always exist for those musicians who think before they act and possess a high regard for the art of paying attention.

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From ITA Journal

Eric Leonard: Breakin' the Rules

(a review)

 

Just when this reviewer had decided to give up on the premise of a new and qualified pop/crossover trombone recording, along comes Eric Leonard to dispel all previous notions. With Breakin the Rules this crafty young Oklahoman (and self avowed Steve Wiest admirer) takes his place next to trumpeter Rick Braun and others of his predisposition, as a possible trombone counterpart in the smooth jazz classification. Granted, this may not seem like such a big deal to some ITA Journal readers, but it really should be. One need only remember the big band era, when the trombone ruled supreme as the pop instrument of choice. Tommy Dorsey, Glenn Miller and Jack Jenney were no "fly by nights." They were national heroes. The whole world knew who they were, and because of them, everybody wanted to play the trombone. Public based adulation (to say nothing of respect) for the trombone has been hard to come by in recent years. Therefore, it would not kill the trombone community to embrace a least a handful of pop influenced concepts. In Leonard's case, he not only dabbles in these concepts, he has embraced them to create a memorable juxtaposition of infectious melodies, combined with some really fine trombone playing.

Leonard's recording partners are part of an actual working band that plays in and around the Oklahoma City area, and it shows. Unlike the studio musicians who shake hands with the artist ten minutes before the session, this is a tight knit group. Bassist Mike Myers especially stands out in such a way as to remind one of the manner in which bassist Andy West once complimented The Dixie Dregs. All of the sidemen are great at evoking that "Crusaders" feeling; a mostly successful concept that once prompted musicians to listen to Wayne Henderson. There is alot of the old Crusaders dynamic in Leonard's compositions. In fact, his intentions appear to follow the tact of allowing his tunes to set up an appropriate environment for group members to demonstrate their solid technical ranges, and just in general be funky. On the subject of chops, Leonard has them in abundance. Yet, he is mature enough to hold back just enough to let the music breathe, and achieve the potential for airplay….and again, there is nothing wrong with that. Eric Leonard demonstrates with Breakin the Rules that a crossover trombone recording of class and distinction is more than a remote possibility. It can and has become a reality. Steve Turre, take note. A virtual unknown just got with his Oklahoma buddies to perform, manufacture and distribute the very album you should have done a long time ago. Well done Mr. Leonard…very well done!

Tom Smith
Pfeiffer University
ITA Journal

 

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An Experience with a Happy End
Tom Smith, Director of Instrumental Music
Pfeiffer University, Misenheimer, NC
Senior Fulbright Scholar, National University of Music, University of Bucharest

I vividly recall my first encounter with University of Bucharest Professor Rodica Mihaila. It was during the September, 2002 Fulbright orientation session. „We would be so happy to have you lecture at one of our American Studies sessions,“ she cooed. I immediately told her what an honor it was to be asked. „Good, it’s all set,“ she shot back. „I will bring students to the reception tonight for informal introductions.“ She then quickly pressed a folded slip of paper into my hand. I opened the mysterious document just wide enough to see my name listed prominently on what appeared to be a Department of American Studies Graduate School Fall Schedule. When I looked up to respond, she was already gone. „See you at the reception tonight,“ I heard her yell from what I assumed was the street. I again looked down at the paper, and to my astonishment discovered my enlistment as a REGULAR lecturer. Moreover, my first session was scheduled to convene in a mere four days. I suppose I would have considered the aforementioned scenario a normal course of affairs, were it not for the fact that my home institution was the National University of Music, and not the University of Bucharest. „What on Earth did I just agree to?“ I wondered. To make a long story short, Professor Mihaila’s polite yet determined coercion turned out to be the beginning of a most pleasant surprise. Within a matter of days, my disposition had changed from „How do I have time for this?“ into „I really love this class.“ The premise of my lectures was supposedly Jazz Music and American Sociological Parallels. But, it was not long before the classes spiraled into a plethora of related and sometimes not so related topics; especially those that satisfied my own urges to explore the idiosynchracies of the American political system.

I especially remember the week when President Bush came to extend Romania an invitation into NATO. That week the students asked me to forego the usual topics, to instead devote more timeto the subject at hand. This was one of many times when I realized that my American Studies students were pretty sharp customers, and the equal of any graduate students I had ever encountered. They may not understand the principles behind a credit card, but the youthful Romanian intelligentsia absolutely understand political gamesmanship. In fact there are many political nuances that my young Romanian friends could explain to the politically unwashed of my own country. I remember that particular session very well, because I recall with fondness how much they impressed me. They told me they believed that presidential character DID matter, that the American Supreme Court did not steal the American election of 2000, but that hanging chads almost did, that there was little difference in the ethics of either the Democratic or Republican parties, and that George Bush called himself a Texas cowboy, because Maine lobster fishing is probably not considered as masculine to the average voting American. I also recall the statements made by one of my more talkative students regarding what she considered Romania’s „interesting“ invitation into NATO. „What do they want from us?“ she bellowed. „NATO appears interested in specialization at the moment,“ I answered. „They seem to really like those Romanian mountain soldiers.“ Soooo....our new NATO friends would like us to go fetch the especially vicious Al Qaeda who are still in Afghanistan,“ she immediately chimed back. „You know who they are Professor Smith. They are the ones you Americans are tired of chasing.“

Dead silence.

Later, we were honored (if not a little confused) to learn that our discussions had reached the attention of senior American diplomats. In fact, two weeks after the NATO lecture, our class was visited by the American Cultural attaché himself. „How you ever got them to embrace western politics by listening to jazz I will never know,“ he told me. Frankly, I never had the heart to tell him that I was just as clueless as he was. Despite the numerous multicultural inroads my students and I forged, they paled in comparison to the enduring bonds of friendship that prevailed. I will never forget that wonderful Christmas party they organized, or the fine young man who taught my son French and showed my wife how to pay the cable bill. These are kindnesses not so easily forgotten in a person’s life.

Recently Professor Mihaila stated in public forum that I had made a difference in the lives of her students. I thank her with more than a fair dose of embarrasment, since it is I who has been positively altered. And far more comprehensively than any random musings I may have donated to the intellectual psyche of the University of Bucharest. There was a time when I absolutely hated to hear someone utter the expression „young people are our future.“ I used to think it was the single most inane line ever conceived. Now, I guess I will have to drop some of my cynicism and rethink that one. Rodica Mihaila’s students have a way of eventually wearing you down... and sometimes it is for all the right reasons.

 

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From ITA Journal

SMILE

GUNTER BOLLMANN, TROMBONE; Olaf Polziehn, piano;
Ingmar Heller, bass; Oliver Mewes, drums; Andy Haderer, trumpet; Stefan Pfeifer, alto sax; Bruno Moller, guitar; The Symphonic Laboratory Orchestra; Manfred Honetschlager, conductor.
MONS RECORDS MR874-348 (Taubenplatz 42, 67705 Trippstadt, Germany; Phone: 49 (0) 06306 993223)
Jerome Kern: Nobody Else But Me. M. Bauza: Tango. J. van Rooyen: Violets. E. Daniels: Soft Shoe for Thad. S. Mihanovich: Sometime Ago. Thad Jones: Mean What You Say. Manfred Honetschlager: Cien anos de Soledad. Ray Noble: Cherokee.

The jazz trombone world had better start clearing a wide path for 29-year-old Gunter Bollmann. This German born apprentice of Jiggs Whigham and the late Bobby Burgess has serious game so much in fact that it will be difficult to mask his present greatness. One does not have to be clairvoyant to predict that a large contingent will proclaim him "the next big thing," and they will not be too far off the mark.

What is especially impressive about Bollmann is the great improvisational creativity and maturity he displays in the face of his own monumental technical facility. His beautiful tone also weighs in heavily on creatively eclectic ballads like van Rooyen's Violets and Manfred Honetschlager's beautiful Cien anos de Soledad, the latter accompanied admirably by the Symphonic Laboratory Orchestra of Warsaw. With those things said, Bollmann's startling technical skills seek to redefine how one approaches the art of chordal navigation. Bollmann is just so relaxed in his approach that you tend to get wrapped up in what he is saying as opposed to what he is doing. Wonderful stylistic characterizations of Cherokee and Bauza's Tango literally jump out at the listener in heroic fashion.

Bollmann also surrounds himself with a very powerful supporting cast. Pianist Polziehn especially stands out for his ability to innately comprehend what is necessary to make a trombone sound the way it needs to sound in this mostly small group setting. Saxophonist Pfeifer is no slouch either. His tasteful contrapuntal interplay with Bollmann on Thad Jones' Mean What You Soy evokes memories of J.J. Johnson and Stan Getz in a similar genre. As a rule, this band plays like an assemblage of 60-year-old icons instead of the 20-something young lions they actually ore.

Make no mistake about it. This review is an unadulterated rave. SMILE represents an amazing achievement for one so young, and apparently so unknown. Yet, problems associated with anonymity have a way of working out when you produce one of the most complete jazz trombone recordings of the past couple of years, to say nothing of the finest European small group recording of any classification. Bollmann is that good, and deserves support. SMILE is aptly titled. It certainly put one on my face.

Tom Smith
National Music University, Bucharest, Romania

 

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From American National Biography

Harris, Bill

 

..........Harris, Bill (28 Oct. 1916-21 Aug. 1973), trombonist, guitarist, and composer, was born Willard Palmer Harris in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, the son of Willard Massey Harris, an attorney for the U.S. Marine Corps, and Mabel Palmer Harris. Bill's older half brother Robert was a professional bassist who performed with the Ted Weems Orchestra. As a child, Harris studied piano for six months before contracting scarlet fever. Immediately following convalescence, he abandoned the piano and tried the tenor saxophone, trumpet, and drums before concentrating exclusively on the trombone. Although his father wanted him to study law, Harris spent much of his late adolescence employed in a number of occupations, including truck driver, electric meter reader, warehouse laborer, and semiprofessional musician. In 1935, partly in deference to his parents, Harris joined the Merchant Marines. Two years later he returned to Philadelphia, where in 1938 he married Elizabeth "Bette" Alexander. They had three children. He resumed truck driving and performed part time at country clubs and wedding receptions with childhood contemporaries Buddy DeFranco and Charlie Ventura.

Harris did not pursue music full time until he was twenty-four. With the exception of sporadic lessons with Philadelphia brass instructor Donald Reinhart, he was completely self-taught and a poor sight reader. In 1941, on Ventura's recommendation, Harris was deputized a sideman for Gene Krupa's band; he was released after one week due to poor sight-reading. Similar results occurred two months later with the Ray McKinley band. An interim period with bandleader Buddy Williams of Dayton, Ohio, followed. In 1942, during Harris's temporary stint with Bob Chester, Benny Goodman heard Harris perform on a Chester radio broadcast and in 1943 invited him to join his group. He was with Goodman for nine months. When the band relocated to California for the filming of the movie Sweet and Lowdown, Harris purchased a home in Santa Monica and remained there when Goodman disbanded in early spring 1944. Engagements with Charlie Barnet and Freddy Slack followed before he was chosen by Goodman to lead a band at New York's Café Society with saxophonist Zoot Sims. In 1944, after another brief period with Chester, he joined Woody Herman's band at Detroit's Eastwood Gardens.

Harris's rambunctious and widely emulated trombone improvisations accelerated the popularity of Herman's first nationally recognized ensemble, known retrospectively as the "First Herd." His eccentric personality and reputation for outrageous practical jokes meshed well with other Herman band members such as tenor saxophonist Flip Phillips and bassist Chubby Jackson. The band's much-heralded recordings of Harris features, for example, "Bijou" and his own composition "Everywhere," led to victories in a number of music polls, including the Down Beat Reader's Poll (1945-1954), the Down Beat Critic's Poll (1953-1954) and the Metronome Reader's Poll (1946-1955). When Herman disbanded the "First Herd" in 1946, Harris led his own groups around New York and played intermittently with Charlie Ventura. In 1948 he rejoined Herman's new band.

When Herman disbanded this "Second Herd," Harris began a four-year association with Norman Granz's Jazz at the Philharmonic. Between JATP tours, he performed with Oscar Pettiford, Benny Carter, and the Sauter-Finnegan Orchestra. In 1956 he joined Herman's "Third Herd." After two years he departed over salary issues. Harris then moved his family to the Miami, Florida, area and lived in semiretirement as a part-time disc jockey. In 1959 Herman coaxed him back for one more enlistment as part of the English-based Anglo-American Herd. A short time later, Harris accepted a second much shorter tenure with Goodman, performing in Europe and New York with a nine-piece band that included xylophonist Red Norvo, trumpeter Jack Sheldon, and Phillips. Throughout the 1950s, in addition to his numerous JATP recordings, he was heard on a handful of albums, including New Jazz Sounds (1954) with Carter, Bill Harris Herd (1956), and Bill Harris and Friends (1957).

During the 1960s, Harris alternated between his Florida and Las Vegas residences, working regularly with Norvo and trumpeter Charlie Teagarden while fronting lounge bands on both trombone and guitar. His permanent exile from Las Vegas was sealed when a popular entertainer released him from his backup orchestra for (in his words) "looking too old." He was later dispatched from the employ of Miami's Tropicana Hotel, as part of a management-led initiative to downsize their brass section. With the exception of occasional performances with Phillips, his final days were spent in relative obscurity and his last means of support was as a security guard. His last notable performance was a JATP reunion at the Monterey Jazz Festival in 1971. Harris died in Coral Gables, Florida, of heart failure caused by his deteriorating physical condition after years of neglecting what had been a treatable form of cancer.

Contemporary disinterest in the Harris legacy is difficult to explain. Although strongly influenced by J. C. Higginbotham, he was an innovator of the first rank and arguably one of the most important transitional jazz stylists. His signature approach to jazz trombone playing served as an evolutionary bridge between progressive traditionalist Jack Teagarden and post-swing modernist J. J. Johnson. Harris's extroverted style, which included a trademark "burry" sound (wide tones with vibrato in each note), influenced an entire generation of musicians and helped to establish the trombone as a popular jazz solo instrument.

Bibliography
Regrettably, there are few written examinations of Bill Harris, with the exception of anecdotal vignettes in Woody Herman biographies, most notably in Woody Herman and Stuart Troup, The Woodchopper's Ball: The Autobiography of Woody Herman (1990). See also William D. Clancy with Audree Coke Kenton, Woody Herman: Chronicles of the Herds (1995); Robert C. Kriebel, Blue Flame: Woody Herman's Life in Music (1995); and Gene Lees, Leader of the Band: The Life of Woody Herman (1995). Shorter observations include Leonard Feather, "Bill Harrasses His Horn