The record changer (Mar 1945-Feb 1946)

Excerpt from Congressional Record If anybody had told me in 1945 that I'd come back from the Pacific war and find that jazz was on the verge of a tremendous revival, I'd have thought he was just an over-enthusiastic new subscriber to the CHANGER. Like so many others, I'd become convinced that the honest-to-God stuff was just too deep for most people to take the trouble to discover, and that as long as there was an easier musical path for the average ear to follow that we'd have to consider the inner circle almost closed with only a thousand or so converts admitted annually. Certainly I never thought that in December, 1948, ten thousand college boys would protest to ESqUIRE that the 1949 calendar featured Varga girls instead of portraits of Bunk Johnson, Louis Armstrong, Jelly Roll Morton, King Oliver, Johnny Dodds, Fuggsy Spanier, George Lewis, Frank Teschemacher, Kid Ory, Ma Rainey, Baby Dodds, and George Brunies (one for each month of the year). Arnold Gingrich was forced to postpone publication of the next issue for two weeks while his presses rushed out the new calendars as demanded. -But within a year after the war was over, it became apparent that something was emerging from the constant pressure exerted by such men as Bill Russell and Gene Williams, the many "hot" labels in the reoording field, and publications like the CHANGER, JAZZ RECORD, AND J.I. (revived shortly after the war by Ralph Gleason and 'Gene 'Williams) . Columbia, Brunswick, and Victor prospered with their reissues, and overnight, it seemed, Eddie Condon Commodores were in every household, especially after Milt Gabler was able to cut the prices to 50^ and 75/. Condon's radio show was sponsored by one of those post-war international cartels PM warned us about, supplanting the Hit Parade and Lux Radio Theatre in public affection. Eventually Eddie had to do a special afternoon show for housewives, backed by a group of prominent soap manufacturers, in which each program ended in the middle of a Pee Wee Russell solo, to be finished the next afternoon. The suspense from Friday to Monday was terrific, especially on Pee Wee. I guess you oould say that the revival really began on the West Coast, where there were fewer reactionary influences to retard the trend. Shortly after the war ended, Lu Watters, Turk Murphy, Bob Scobey, and Wally Rose got their discharges from the Navy and went back to the Dawn Club with Ellis Horne, Clancy Hayes, Dick Lammi, and Bill Dart. But the big surprise came when the Bal Tabarin, a snotty Joint near Bill Colburn's apartment up on Columbus Avenue, went into receivership and Bill pounded away at San Francisco Jazz fans for two months and raised enough money to reopen the plaoe under more simplified condi*tions with a band including Bunk Johnson, Jim Robinson, George Lewis, and Lawrence Marrero, all imported from New Orleans and looking rather nervous in their brand new dark suits, although Bunk took oare of that by taking off his coat after the first set. It was not generally known, by the way, that Lu Watters was one of the chief contributors to the original cooperative investment, but I think it's all right to mention it now. On opening night, with Bunk feeding It to San Francisco's most rabid (includ ing the whole Yerba Buena Jazz Band, which took the night off from the Dawn Club, even though it was a Saturday), everybody got a scare when some veteran habitues of the Bal Tabaran, shocked at such goings on in their genteel hangout, called the cops, but a few quick drinks and an astounding fulfillment of a request for DOES YOUR MOTHER COME FROM IRELAND, climaxed by a batch of red beans and rice whisked up by Bunk while Paul Lingle took over for a half hour of Scott Joplin rags, settled the matter in favor of the new management. An International Settlement night club owner, intrigued by the success of the Dawn Club and the new Bal, took on a band consisting of Benny Strickler (cornet) , Bill Barden (trombone), Bob Helm (clarinet), Burt Bayles (piano), Russ Bennett (banjo), Squire Gersback (tuba), and a drummer whose name I've forgotten. I'll never forget Striokler doing the impossible and cutting the late Ward Pinkett on Morton's KANSAS CITY STOMPS. Meanwhile, in Los Angeles, Kid Or; opened at a new spot run by a syndicate organized by Marili Morden and heavily financed by Orson Welles. The line-up was the same which had appeared on Welles' 1944 broadcasts: Ory, Mutt Carey, Wade Whaley, Buster Wilson, Bud Scott, Ed Garland, and Zutty Singleton. The betweensets entertainment publicized the place all over the world. Welles often appeared with a magic show, Bob Hope took an occasional run as emcee, Bing Crosby supplementing or relieving him now and then, and Hoagy Carmichael often played piano and sang when he dropped in. Even Portland, Oregon, joined in when Harry Fosbury pushed and browbeat a place into installing Monte Ballou's Dixielanders, and the band, patterned after Muggsy's Ragtimers, rocked the joint from then on. It included Ned Dotson (cornet), George Phillips (trombone), Willie Pavia (clarinet), Monte Ballou (guitar), Bob Johnson (piano), Myron Shepler (bass), Alex Tyle ( drums) . Two years ago in October, I believe it was, Bunk Johnson finally had to lay down his horn and rest. Still going strong on a three-nights-a-week basis with his band, Bunk was the wonder of every doctor and musician in the country, but in his middle seventies he felt the need to take a vacation at his home in New Iberia, La. The band was at a loss as to how to carry on, for none of the admiring young Negro trumpet players were quite good enough to fill the old Master's shoes, and the Jim Crow union wouldn't let Bob Scobey, who was to be replaced by Al Zone in the Watters band, come in with Robinson, Lewis, and Marrero. They were about to send to New Orleans for Kid Shots Madison, when a break developed which turned out to be one of the most stirring in the colorful history of Jazz. Considered old, washed up, and unable to stand the competition of other commercial bandleaders on the road, Louis Armstrong was on the verge of retiring; Bill Russell, Bill Rosenberg, Hoyte Kline, and Gene Williams talked him into going to San Francisco; Bill Colburn took care of it at the California end. Within a month Louis was playing as he had not played since 1926, and having more fun than he'd had in years. When Bunk came back from New Iberia, it was decided to 4 make it an Oliver-Armstrong affair, — Bunk played first trumpet two nights a week and Louis took it alone the rest of the time. Transcontinental flying having become what it is, I assume all of you heard this band and need no description of the marvelous music it produced. Its many records are sufficient evidence, and Orson Welles' movie, which was finally made and made well, gave it a most prominent place. There was .one dreadful period when it was rumored that Hazel Scott had been signed to play the role of Lil Hardin in the King Oliver Jazz Band sequence, but the band lined up on the screen with Louis, Lil, Baby Dodds, Kid Ory, Pops Foster, Lawrence Marrero, and Johnny Dodds' oldest boy portraying his father. Oliver's; place was taken by none other than Paul Robeson, whose acting, based on his study of the marvelous letters quoted in JAZZMEN! back in 1939, was the highlight of a great, film. The sound track of this band, of course, was made with Bunk on first trumpet and George Lewis on clarinet. The revival moved east, when, about eight months after the Bunk Johnson band opened in San Francisco, Ernest Byfield advertised the return of Chicago style at the Pump Room, and stranger still, produced it. Bud Jacob son's Jungle Kings lined up on opening night much like Frank. Snyder's Subway Cafe band of the middle thirties: Carl Rinker (trumpet), George Lugg (trombone), Bud Jacobson (clarinet), Tut Soper (piano), plus Pat Pattison on bass and Frankie Rullo on drums. Earl Wiley came in on drums later, after several successful seasons in New York. This: was the band which later moved up to the new Club Silhouette, on Howard Street, that remarkable thoroughfare which is still dark on the Evanston side (it's the dryest town in the country) and, since the Chicago city limits run blissfully down the center, garishly lighted till four every morning on the south side. Bud's band became a greater institution on the Northwestern campus than their football team which annually shapes up as a powerhouse and winds up losing its biggest games. The band got a sevenpage spread in LIFE after the 1951 Northwestern yearbook was dedicated to Bud, and several academically interested University of Chicago psychologists came up to analyze this phenomenon and stayed to listen to the music. They liked it. Every night club owner in Chicago was appalled and astounded when the Famous Door, down at Diver sy and Broadway, dropped the endless-f loor-show-and-a-little-dancing policy which most operators had come to believe was written in their cabaret licenses. The Door caught visiting conventioners and meat packers unawares with Jimmy MacPartland ' s Jazz band, and the customers surprised themselves and the whole night club business by deolding it was a weloome change from legs and briefly bared bosoms. Jimmy, back from France, and Jack Reed, still as strong as he'd been with Charlie Pierce even after a couple of years in the Southwest Pacific, proved that the army hadn't hurt their playing, and they made a fine brass team against Wade Foster's clarinet. The Thythm seotion was made up of Floyd Bean, Dick MacPartland, Joe Rushton, and Don Carter. Cripple Clarence Lofton did the honors during intermissions on nights when he wasn't down on the South Side playing for