Screenland (May-Oct 1942)

Strike Up Your Own Band! Continued from page 25 cided to put his offsprings' excessive energy to some use. The two little boys were as fond of quarreling as they were of each other. So he banished them to the cellar for six hours every day. They had one saxophone between them. Jimmy got the sax, Tommy the black eye. That black eye, however, helped "strike up the band" for the Dorsey brothers. As a salve, his Dad bought him the trombone, on his fourth birthday! "But," advises Tommy, "unless a youngster is training to be an acrobat, I'd recommend some smaller instrument as a starter." For several years, until he grew up to his horn, he had to swing his left arm way out to the side and around to the back in order to open up the slidehorn to anywhere near its full length. As a result, he's almost double-jointed in the left shoulder, and his left arm is so much larger that the MetroGoldwyn-Mayer wardrobe department had to alter the suits they had tailored for the band leader's role in "Ship Ahoy." Two pairs of gloves, one size seven, the other eight, had to be matched in order to assemble a single pair to fit Tommy's mismatched hands. But there was a long pull between then and the time Mr. Tommy Dorsey became a movie star. First thing the two Dorsey boys did was set up in competition to their Dad. "The only way to get up a band," says Dorsey, "is to round up every kid in your neighborhood and school, and start to play." They did. There were nine of them — and twenty-six instruments. He and Jimmy could play any one of the brasses. He hoped the others could double-up as well. Anyway, they took a chance. They played their first engagement billed as "Shenandoah's Wild Canaries" at the Lanceford Public School's Junior Prom. "It was jazz at its jazziest," Dorsey recalls. "As a matter of fact, we had to play the current hit, Pullman Porter Blues, fourteen times." Tommy alternated between his trombone, a clarinet, and trumpet. Jimmy stayed with his sax, and tossed drumsticks in between hot licks, because their drummer could keep time but couldn't juggle the sticks. Their first "pay" engagement came two weeks later. It was at Lawrencetown, Pa., eighty-five miles from home. So excited were the nine "Wild Canaries" that they packed three trunks of clothes for the three-hour ride! They each cleared $3.89 on the "engagement." Yes— that's how a band gets started. "Seriously," points out the bandleader, "any youngster who feels life isn't worth living unless he can play in a band should organize one of his own. After five minutes of talking among his classmates, it is surprising how many youngsters he'll find who feel the same. Any kid who has a yen to toot a horn, beat a drum, or blow a sax, has a yen to be in a band. The organizer must remember, however, to be the boss. No band can have more than one leader." Tommy knows from experience that this is true. So does Jimmy. After the success of the "Wild Canaries," and it was a success, the Dorsey Brothers became known in Tin Pan Alley. Before long, they had more engagements than they could fulfill. Junior Proms gave way to Senior Balls. The local Elks, Masons, Knights of Columbus, all called on the "Wild Canaries" for music. Nine members swelled to twelve, then fifteen. Soon they had a boy for each one of the twenty-six instruments. Their placard, "Wild Canaries — They Chirp — You Twirl," plastered the community. Tommy and Jimmy shared leadership. They didn't always see eye-to-eye. Their prowess as musicians, however, outweighed their difficulties as joint leaders and they were soon chosen by the then sensational "Scranton Sirens." In between engagements they played in their Dad's military band. Tommy was then not quite seventeen, Jimmy two years older. The next ten years were spent on the "big time," switching from one name band to another on the road, in radio studios, in theaters. By 1934 they had blown their own two horns with everybody who was anybody — Paul Whiteman, Rudy Vallee, Andre Kostelanetz. Forgetting their adolescent tribulations as joint bandleaders, the Dorsey brothers organized another band. This time, they were definitely news. They had Bob Crosby for vocalist, Glenn Miller, trombonist, and Ray McKinley, drummer, a terrific nucleus for any band. On this talent point, Tommy is adamant. "In organizing a band, look for enthusiasm in your musicians, but also look for musicians. To paraphrase the wellknown chain adage, a band is only as strong as its finest musician. Nothing makes me more proud than the fact that Jimmy and I had such stars as Miller, Crosby, and McKinley in our first professional venture. No words of mine are needed to point out their subsequent success." After almost two years of this, the brothers decided the band once again had one too many leaders. "By this time we had both hit upon strong individual styles, and, frankly, we both wanted free rein to develop them. So," says Tommy, "Jimmy and the boys started for the West Coast and I started from scratch." Now Tommy really had a chance to put his theories about organizing a band into practice. First, he wanted a crew who couldn't keep from playing. He wanted boys who ate, slept, drank, talked and played jive. By this time, jazz was jive — Charleston was swing — -foxtrot was jitterbug. Secondly, he wanted an all-star band. Today, he has just that. It wasn't easy. But it was worth the effort. On the 1941 "Downbeat" poll ("Downbeat" is the national swing magazine with a million and a half readers), the Tommy Dorsey band came out ahead with four winners, more than any other band in the country. Far in the lead was Buddy Rich, his drummer. Ziggy Elman was top man among the nation's trumpet players and singer Frank Sinatra, the country's favorite warbler. Frank also won the accolade of undergraduate hepcats from 152 universities. None other than colored man Sy Oliver was chosen as ace arranger. Speaking of records, Tommy himself has won the Block Poll, making him the major trombonist in America. He was also elected president of "hot" bands from thirty-seven different colleges and universities. Tommy delights in these college "degrees" — he never went to college. Along these record-breaking lines, he and his brother Jimmy, although warm friends, are also professional rivals. When Tommy opened at the Palladium in Los Angeles last year, he broke all existii 1 records by playing to 6300 jitterbugs in j single night. Jimmy bet he could beat th j] record. Several months later he did — by J margin of 160. Then Tommy returned < \ December 30. Jimmy offered to play Tommy's band if Tommy could top h J record. And Tommy did. So now Tomn will have the highest paid saxophone play \ in the country as a member of his bandfor one night. Jimmy doesn't care. These swingste ; eat, sleep, and breathe jive. They even Hai a language all their own. "Solid on tl beam," "cookin' with wide open bh flame," "hide-beater," "groan box," "loi hair," "joy pipe," "eighty eight," "gu bucket," "furry," "fluff," "rat wrestle," m; need interpretation for the rest of the wor but it doesn't to them and their hepcl followers. Organize a band and live in world all your own. They're not conte: with rehearsing eight hours a day on ti movie set of "Ship Ahoy," recording foi more hours at night, working another tv on new arrangements for future engag ments. No, that isn't enough. Tommy toe advantage of an "off" night by playing 1: 1 trombone for Ray Noble's opening at ti Cocoanut Grove ! He can't keep away from that trombor His boys are the same. Scarcely a nig goes by without a jam session. On Frai Sinatra's birthday last month, the entr band celebrated at the Hollywood Plazawith a party? No— with a jam session. N even Christmas is a holiday. Socialite d Cecil Cunningham, of Cincinnati, Ohio, d cided she couldn't, or wouldn't, "come ou] unless Tommy Dorseyr played at her pari; That meant the band had to fly to Cil cinnati in a specially charted plane froj the M-G-M sound stage, on Christmas E-\ play at the party, and within forty-eigj hours return in time for additional seen; with Eleanor Powell and Red Skelton scenes for their film. The following nig they opened at the Palladium. It's all in the life of a swing band. Th love it. But their wives and families? We there's some doubt there. The wives ha organized a "Defense Club." They atte symphonies just to keep in touch with t outer world. The boys do too, but th come home and swing the classics. There's one thing about "striking up band" — you do see the world. 1941 fou the Dorsey troupe clocking a million tray miles. They appeared at leading hot throughout the country, played one-nig stands in dance halls from Broadway the nation's villages and hamlets, fulfill I engagements in all the first-run theate and made two Hollywood trips. Added these have been barnstorming trips Ziggy Elman, ace trumpet player, whi totaled 50,000 miles, and by singer Fra Sinatra in the neighborhood of 36,0* Tommy, himself, has 150,000 miles on I log. In these one million miles they've play to as many as 33,000 persons in three da at the Palace Theater in Akron, Oh ; 87,000 turned out in one-night engagemei | at Cleveland, Detroit, Columbus, DayrU Lincoln, Indianapolis and Louisville. N< ' York sophisticates gave their nod of z proval by turning out 3447 strong for Dc sey's opening night at the Astor Ho Roof. During the past four years the ba has returned seven times to New Yorl i Paramount Theater and in those seven s pearances played to three and a half milli j people ! A plane is their taxi. But before Tomi could get Ziggy Elman on his first trip had to take out a $100,000 insurance poli on Ziggy's life. Yes, the band leader of today is 1 1 white-haired boy of the entertainim 60