JazzWax

Ronnie and Julie

In Part 1 of my interview last week with pianist Ronnell Bright, Sarah Vaughan's accompanist, Ronnell [right] talked about serving aboard an aircraft carrier in 1948 with singer Julius La Rosa  just before Julie was discovered. Julie [below], a baritone with an enormously stable and confident voice, would go on to become one of television's first charismatic singing stars, scoring a string of popular and traditional Italian hits in the 1950s and 1960s.

Shortly after posting Part 1, I received an email from Doug Ramsey, the esteemed jazz critic, author and Rifftides blogger. Doug wrote to tell me that he had sent Julie a link to JazzWax. Julie responded with the following email:

"Wow! Look at all that hair! Re Ronnie Bright: I remember him very well!; in fact he's probably the earliest indication—to me—that I had an ear and could sing! He taught me Don't Blame Me, which he sang very "jazzily." He took the title, singing, "Do-oh-oh-OHN'T,  blay-ay-ay, AYM, me-EE-ee...," and in the release I would sing, "I can't help it if that doggone moon above, makes me need someone like you to love..." Very "straight! Ronnell would go back to "Ca-ah-ah-AHN'T, you-oo-oo-OOH, see-EE-ee... when you do the things to me..." Wow!  Such memories!"

Last Friday, Julie and Ronnell reunited on the phone and revisited their days playing and singing on board the carrier. Thanks, Doug. What a joy to put two legendary musical pals back together again.

JazzWax tracks: Julius La Rosa's voice may unfamiliar to you or you may have written it off as too mainstream. Not so fast. Download My Funny Valentine at iTunes for 99 cents and see what you think. If you like it, add Rosanne and When You're in Love from the same 1955 album. This is is how popular music was crafted in the mid-1950s. Open, full and pure. For more on Julius La Rosa, visit his website here.

Jimmy Giuffre (1921-2008): Part 2

Yesterday, I featured interviews with jazz legends Danny Bank, Bud Shank, Hal McKusick and Teddy Charles fondly recalling the late saxophonist and arranger Jimmy Giuffre. I also included comments and rare photos from Von Babasin, the documentary filmmaker and son of bassist Harry "the Bear" Babasin.

Today, I merely want to share with you my Top 10 Jimmy Giuffre recordings, on which he played or arranged—or both. Nearly all are available as downloads for 99 cents each:

1. How High the Moon—Boyd Raeburn (1947). Before Claude Thornhill there was Boyd Raeburn, whose orchestra was one of the most exciting band laboratories of the early and mid-1940s. His musicians were so exceptional that they could take on anything an arranger could score. This track was arranged by Johnny Richards and featured the sultry voice of Ginny Powell, Raeburn's wife. Recorded in August 1947, Powell's "slick chick" rendition of How High the Moon was recorded four months before June Christy's with Stan Kenton. Giuffre is playing alto and tenor in the reed section here on one of his earliest recordings. The band featured Conte Candoli, Bernie Glow, Milt Bernhart, Bart Varsalona and Buddy DeFranco. This track is available for 99 cents at iTunes on Boyd Raeburn: Jewells.

2. Four Rich Brothers—Buddy Rich (1948). Four Brothers is easily Giuffre's best-known arrangement. Written for Woody Herman's band in late 1947, the song's sax soli and hair-raising harmonies finally allowed big band sax sections to have an ego. Originally titled Four Mothers by Giuffre, Woody changed it to Four Brothers for fear of crossing the taste line. Despite the power of the Herman recording, Giuffre's little-known arrangement here of the same song for the Buddy Rich band of 1948 is superior. For one, this version has more punch with Buddy at the helm. For another, all sections of the band get a chance to wail. Plus, Giuffre plays on this one (he isn't on Woody's version). And Buddy's reed section is fabulous—Hal McKusick on alto; Giuffre, Ben Lary and Warne Marsh on tenors; and Harvey Lavine on baritone. Why no second alto? Hal McKusick told me last night that he brought tenor saxophonist Marsh into the band because he played on the high-end of his horn, providing an alto sound and feel. Still don't believe this version tops Woody's? Compare for yourself. The track is available as an Amazon download here for 99 cents.

3. So Long Broadway—Lighthouse All-Stars (1952). A Teddy Charles original, this tune captures the raw heat and energy of the West Coast in the very early 1950s. You literally can hear cool jazz emerging from bop on this track. Teddy told me over the weekend that these recordings were made secretly, without the band's knowledge. So the exciting music you hear is the sound you would have heard on Hermosa Beach back in '52. Giuffre plays baritone sax on this track and is joined by Stan Getz, Bob Cooper, Teddy Charles, Russ Freeman, Howard Rumsey and Shelly Manne. You'll find this track on Stan Getz and the Lighthouse All-Stars, a terrific double CD that captured the dawn of West Coast jazz. Go here.

4. Short Stop—Shorty Rogers and His Giants (1953). This punchy arrangement by Shorty Rogers is really a love letter to Four Brothers, with a bouncier West Coast feel. The harmonies are sensational, and Giuffre takes a swinging, all-out tenor solo that follows fabulous blowing by alto saxophonist Art Pepper. Shorty Rogers' contribution to the West Coast jazz scene is vastly underrated, and his 1953 band was staggeringly great. In addition to Shorty and Giuffre, the band included Maynard Ferguson, Milt Bernhart, Bud Shank, Bob Cooper, Marty Paich, Curtis Counce and an explosive Shelly Manne. Every track sizzles with West Coast smarts—Coop de Graas, Infinity Promenade, Boar-Jibu and all the rest. The RCA CD pictured is going for $67. But you can find this track and all the rest on a brilliant download at iTunes called Shorty Rogers Volume 1: Ferguson, Shank, Manne & More.

5. Margo—Teddy Charles Quintet (1953). This Teddy Charles original is one of the first Third Stream ballads. Recorded for Prestige Records when Teddy Charles was playing and producing sessions for the label on the West Coast, the track features Teddy on piano (rather than vibes), Giuffre on a velvety tenor sax, and trumpeter Shorty Rogers, who's in a rare pensive mode. Teddy's sensitive melody line is reminiscent of  In a Mist, and it's laced with dramatic turns. You can find the track on the CD Teddy Charles and the Westcoasters here.

6. Four Others—Woody Herman (1954). Giuffre's arrangement for this Woody Herman Capitol session swings. His arrangement, which in the 1954 version showcases the band's trumpet section, is brisk and bouncy, and only hints at Four Brothers. For some strange reason, the track was never commercially released at the time. Sadly, it's available only on Mosaic's Complete Capitol Recordings of Woody Herman box, which is now out of print. The good news is that a version featuring the trombone section from a year earlier is available at iTunes as a 99-cent download on Woody Herman's Finest Hour.

7. Blue Bluebird—Maynard Ferguson (1956). This medium-tempo blues shows off Giuffre's swinging writing style for Maynard Ferguson's Birdland Dream Band. The sax section says it all—Herb Geller on alto, Al Cohn and Budd Johnson on tenors, and Ernie Wilkins on baritone. There's even a high-flying solo by trumpeter Ernie Royal. You can find this CD here. Or you can download a version of Blue Bluebird at iTunes from The Essential Maynard Ferguson.

8. The Blues Train—Hal McKusick (1956). Giuffre wrote and arranged this tune and two others for Hal McKusick's Jazz Workshop album. The playing here is as soft as cat's paws, and Giuffre's writing is perfect. Hal is on alto, Art Farmer is on trumpet, Barry Galbraith is on guitar, Teddy Kotick is on bass and Osie Johnson is on drums. Hal's sound is sublime, and the stealthy blues and hushed feel are remarkable. Listen as the group emulates the swinging clickity-clack of a train and sound of a midnight locomotive whistle off in the distance. You can buy The Jazz Workshop here.

9. Hooray for Hollywood—Anita O'Day (1959). Unlike Anita O'Day Swings Cole Porter with Billy May, recorded four days earlier, Cool Heat: Anita O'Day Sings Jimmy Giuffre Arrangements was more relaxed and jaunty. It's well known that May and O'Day didn't get along, resulting in rough studio exchanges and jagged executions. By contrast, Anita felt completely at ease with Giuffre and his cool charts, as Hooray for Hollywood demonstrates. Dig the fanfare configurations written for trumpets and trombones at the opening. Anita's scatting to Giuffre's chart is very hip. Cool Heat can be found as a download at iTunes.

10. Moonlight in Vermont—Lee Konitz/Jimmy Giuffre (1959). This recording was made a month after the Anita O'Day-Jimmy Giuffre session. Despite adventures in Third Stream jazz at the time, Giuffre's arrangement here is straightforward, harmonically teasing out the luster of this nostalgic standard. The album features only reeds backed by a superb rhythm section. The reeds were Hal McKusick and Lee Konitz on altos, Warne Marsh and Ted  Brown on tenors, and Giuffre on baritone. This album also gives you a chance to match up the playing of Hal and Lee (Hal takes the first alto solo on Moonlight in Vermont). By the way, that's Bill Evans on piano (with Buddy Clark on bass and Ronnie Free on drums). Rather than spend $40 on the double CD import, simply buy Bill Evans & Lee Konitz Play the Arrangements of Jimmy Giuffre, which combines the albums You and Lee and Lee Konitz Meets Jimmy Giuffre. It's only $14 here.

Jimmy Giuffre (1921-2008): Part 1

Jimmy Giuffre, a saxophonist and clarinetist whose big-band and small-group recordings and harmonic arrangements in the late 1940s and early 1950s helped crystallize the West Coast jazz sound, died on April 24. He was 86 years old.

Giuffre began his influential career recording with Jimmy Dorsey's band in 1947 and went on to play in the orchestras of Buddy Rich, Woody Herman, Maynard Ferguson, Stan Kenton and Shorty Rogers in the late 1940s and early 1950s. After deciding to remain in Los Angeles following a second stay with Woody Herman in the late 1940s, Giuffre's playing and arranging adapted a cooler, more contrapuntal, laid-back sound that was in stark contrast with the bebop of the East Coast.

Giuffre's constant experimentation with tonal scales and counterpoint starting in the mid-1950s also helped shape and influence the direction of Third Stream jazz. His pastoral, modal trio albums of the late 1950s and early 1960s set a new relaxed standard for small group innovation at a time when jazz was adapting a more spiritual, free-form motif.

Over the weekend, I caught up with several jazz legends for their first-hand memories of Jimmy Giuffre in the 1940s and 1950s:

Danny Bank
"€”I played with Jimmy on his very first record date. It was with the Jimmy Dorsey Orchestra in April 1947. Dorsey [pictured] was a virtuoso on the clarinet and the alto saxophone, and Jimmy [Giuffre] learned a great deal from him. Everyone did. Even Charlie Parker loved Jimmy Dorsey's playing. Jimmy Giuffre was a great player and writer. He really knew how to write a sax soli and how to make the reed section blend together. He had a terrific sense of loud and soft. As a writer, he loved the reed section. On some of his arrangements, he'd even have guys doubling on tenor and alto in the same chart. You'd have to put one instrument down and pick the other one up. He was a challenging writer."

Hal McKusick
"”Our first recording together was in January 1948, when I was on the West Coast. It was an Armed Forces Radio Broadcast, and the group was led by Harry Babasin, the West Coast bass player. Jimmy had already arranged and recorded Four Brothers with Woody Herman in December 1947. After our live date in early 1948, Jimmy dropped out of the scene and took a job at J.C. Penney in L.A. He had to support his family and wanted stability. [pictured: Hal McKusick]. 

"When I joined Buddy Rich's band in California in mid-1948, Buddy [pictured] asked me to find a tenor player and arranger to rebuild his book with more bebop-type charts. I saw an opportunity to wrestle Jimmy out of L.A., since Buddy was offering him more money than J.C. Penney. Jimmy hesitated for a few days to think it over. He was already weary of  the struggle in the music business and, believe it or not, saw a future as a manager at J.C. Penney!

"A little more talk and coaxing by me on the phone—Buddy's band had already started on a cross-country tour to New York—and Jimmy was en route to San Francisco to join the band. I stayed up with him nights and copied his charts for the band and the rest is history. Jimmy stayed with the band until New York. Then he rejoined Woody Herman and went back west to California. He stayed with Woody until 1950, settling in Los Angeles.

"In 1956, Jimmy composed and wrote arrangements for me when I recorded Jazz Workshop for RCA. Jimmy's writing was beautiful. I very much enjoyed his friendship and playing."

Bud Shank
"After Jimmy left Woody Herman in Los Angeles in 1950, he joined the bands of Maynard Ferguson, Stan Kenton and Shorty Rogers. By the very early 1950s, he became the leader of the whole West Coast jazz thing, the drum majorette, so to speak. Jimmy was the first jazz musician I knew with a college degree. He also was the first to study with Wesley LaViolette, who was into tonal music and counterpoint. Then many other musicians started taking lessons with Wesley. [pictured: Bud Shank]

"I remember Jimmy had straightened the neck of his tenor so it resembled the neck of an alto. He did that to get a different sound. Jimmy was always exploring and always thinking. He was so deeply involved in whatever he was doing. I remember one night Jimmy came over to The Lighthouse [pictured] in Hermosa Beach with a pipe cleaner tied around the neck of his tenor. One of us asked him why it was there. He said, "To remind me to take a deep breath." That was Jimmy. He was so deeply into what he was doing, he needed things to remind him to come up for air."

Teddy Charles
"Jimmy was a fabulous player and writer. I first played with him at The Lighthouse in May 1953, with Bob Cooper, Russ Freeman, Howard Rumsey and Shelly Manne. Jimmy also played clarinet, tenor and baritone on my Collaboration: West album for Prestige in August 1953. [pictured: Teddy Charles]

"Jimmy was very different than everyone else. He was a Texas gentleman, and a little shy, which was unusual for a jazz musician back them. When I put my Tentet together in late 1955, I wanted to showcase the many different modal arrangers emerging then. Jimmy [pictured, center] immediately came to mind. When I asked him to write a chart, I was in New York and he was in L.A. He wrote The Quiet Time and mailed it to me. I thought he was going to bring it to New York. So I called him and said, 'Jimmy, how are we supposed to play this without you here to explain how you want it done?' Jimmy said, 'Just play it down, Teddy. It should be fine.'

"So I put The Quiet Time up on the stands and we played it down. Man, if he wasn't spot-on. I was blown away. The chart was absolutely perfect. No fine-tuning needed. Jimmy really was a master writer."

Von Babasin (son of the late West Coast bassist Harry "the Bear" Babasin)
”"My father and Jimmy went to North Texas State together and were members of the One O'Clock Jazz Band on campus. [pictured: Jimmy on tenor sax, Harry Babasin on bass]

"I have a copy of a promotional publication from Capitol Records called Capitol News, dated January 1948, Vol. 6, No. 1. At the time, Dad had just left Benny Goodman and had joined Capitol Records, so the company was promoting his group. There's was an article in the publication with the headline, New Babasin Ork Hailed In L.A. There's a picture of the whole band [pictured: Harry on cello, doubling on bass; from left, Arnold Ross on piano; Blinky Garner on drums; Dale Pearce on trumpet; Hal McKusick on alto; Herbie Harper on trombone; and Jimmy Giuffre on tenor]

"I also have the recordings—one I found recently on an Italian album that was recorded live from the McCormack Hospital in Pasadena in January 1948, the very month of the Capitol article. The article states, 'Babasin, a graduate of North Texas State College in Denton (where Annie Sheridan grew up), brought his college pal Jimmy Giuffre to Hollywood from the Lone Star State to help him get started.'

"Later in the article, it goes on about Jimmy [pictured]: 'Giuffre is equally adept on alto as tenor sax, and his inventive, [Eddie] Sauter-inspired arrangements are so gone that Red Norvo, preparing to make jazz discs for Capitol last month, rushed out and asked Giuffre to handle the arranging for the session."

Be sure to catch Doug Ramsey's tribute to Jimmy Giuffre here, complete with two video clips of Four Brothers that will put a wide smile on your face.

Tomorrow, in Part 2 of my tribute to Jimmy, I will feature my Top 10 Giuffre recordings from the 1940s and 1950s.

Sunday Wax Bits

Jimmy Giuffre (1921-2008). Starting tomorrow, I will post a two-day tribute to the late saxophonist, clarinetist and arranger—including interviews with jazz legends who played with him and knew him best.

Vinyl vitriol. In a pointed post last week at Jazz.com, writer Alan Kurtz ridiculed holdouts who continue to lament the record store's decline and yearn for a vinyl revival. Alan also chastised critics of digital downloading, arguing that the medium's virtues start and end with efficiency and convenience.

During his clubbing of LP lovers, Alan took a swing at me for calling downloading a "pretty sexless act and medium" and for questioning whether downloading can ever deliver the same satisfaction as LP and CD collecting. Alan also explained why he detests brick & mortar record stores, confessing that he hadn't been in one in years: "The littler stores, typically with black-lighted satanic decor, always had small bins so crammed with overpriced merchandise that I could neither browse nor find anything." 

All of this notwithstanding, Alan's column is quite funny, well argued and worth the read here. To be fair, used-record stores are notoriously irksome, most often staffed by humorless bearded guys who wear socks with sandals and smell like old coffee.

Just to set the record (pun intended) straight, my post focused on the sensory connection between touch and hearing, and why hunting, holding and acquiring LPs and CDs seems to deliver much more excitement and satisfaction than the sterile experience of clicking, downloading, dragging and filing. Not to mention the flat fidelity of most downloads compared with remastered CDs.

I suppose this disc-click debate will rattle on until high-end integrated receivers come equipped with hard drives, and downloads play as crisply as remastered CDs. When that day comes, though, I'll miss shopping for music I can hold. I'll also miss the old humorless bearded guy in my local used-record store who always growls at customers and insists that scratches on albums can't be heard when played.

Terry Teachout I. Terry sent along an e-mail this week alerting me to two bits of great news. First, Terry says he just finished writing Rhythm Man: A Life of Louis Armstrong, which clocks in at 175,000 words. Terry's Pops biography will be published next spring. Second, Terry reports that Paul Moravec is composing the final scene of The Letter, an opera for which Terry wrote the libretto. This is on top of Terry's weekly theater reviews for the Wall Street Journal, his monthly Commentary columns, his Washington Post essays, his blog, and other writing engagements. Bravo, Terry! (P.S. It was Terry who badgered me to start JazzWax last summer.)

Terry Teachout II. Terry's column in yesterday's Wall Street Journal was on Aaron Copland's movie scores. When I shot Terry an email yesterday afternoon asking if any of the works he wrote about were available on CD or as downloads, Terry noted that a CD of Copland's film music can be found here. He also said the CD is available as a download at iTunes.

Video clip I. Critic Will Friedwald sent along a link to a fabulous YouTube clip of Johnny Hartman singing It Never Entered My Mind. The clip opens with Sammy Davis, Jr. playing a very hip vibes (who knew!). View the clip here.

Video clip 2. Bret Primack just completed a terrific video podcast for the Concord Records reissue of Blue Mitchell's Blue Soul. As always, Bret has produced brilliant work that fills in the historical blanks and advances the story of jazz. View the clip here.

Cal Massey. WFIU's Night Lights host David Brent Johnson just posted a podcast of his half-hour radio show on the music of jazz composer Cal Massey. It's a highly informed and comprehensive look at one of the least-known writers of jazz's best-loved songs. Go here and click the big blue "Listen Now" button.

Michael Steinman, host of the influential Jazz Lives blog, had kind words to say this week about my liner notes for Grant Stewart's new CD, Young at Heart. For the record, I receive no royalties from the CD's sales. The only reason I wrote the notes is I'm a huge fan of Grant's and strongly believe he's a tenor saxophonist more people should know about. His album is available as a CD at Amazon or as a download at iTunes. Hear for yourself.

Interview: Ronnell Bright (Part 5)

After rising to become the accompanist of Carmen McRae, Sarah Vaughan, Lena Horne and Nancy Wilson in the 1950s and early 1960s, pianist Ronnell Bright became a favorite of Johnny Hartman, Lou Rawls, Al Hibbler, Lorez Alexandria, Anita O'Day and other vocalists. Ronnell's songwriting stints with legends Johnny Mercer, Paul Francis Webster and Sammy Cahn in the mid-to-late-1960s encouraged him to branch out as a composer and lyricist. Ronnell's songs have been recorded by Stanley Turrentine, Blue Mitchell, Warren Vache, Freda Payne, Irene Reid and others.

Ronnell's achievements as a jazz pianist, accompanist and composer are extraordinary. But with enormous accomplishment comes deep disappointment, especially if you were part of the competitive West Coast popular music scene in the 1960s and 1970s.

Today in the fifth and final installment of my weeklong conversation with Ronnell, he talks candidly about golden opportunities that never materialized with Barbra Streisand and Doris Day, and why he ultimately decided to take Louis Armstrong's advice:

JazzWax: Based on your stories, it sounds like the West Coast music scene in the 1960s was a lot tougher than it seemed to average listeners.
Ronnell Bright: Look, the West Coast has always been a place that attracts large numbers of incredibly talented people. Back then, you didn't come to California to work a few days a week in the music business. It was a seven-day operation, especially as rock music ate into record company budgets. The stakes were higher. If you slowed up, someone else would get the gig. So you learned to take on  opportunities and pursue them whenever they came up, if only so you didn't later regret not doing so.

JW: For example?
RB: Sometime back in the early 1970s, my wife, Dianne, and I went to a restaurant in Los Angeles. Dianne noticed that Barbra Streisand and Jon Peters, who was her hairdresser at the time, were just a few tables away.

JW: What were they doing?
RB: Peters was saying something to her and it looked like Barbra was crying. Dianne said that we had to get Sea Mist to her. This is before I took it to Ella [see Part 4].

JW: How were you going to get Barbra to hear the song?
RB: Well there wasn't a piano in the place and we didn't have the music with us. Dianne [pictured with Ronnell] came up with an idea. She told me to keep them busy and said she would rush back to our place to get a cassette of the song.

JW: How were you supposed to keep them busy?
RB: I have no idea. That's what I told Dianne. She told me to do what I could before she raced out the door. Eventually the waitress came over to their table. Peters got up but Barbra looked out the window, I guess to hide her tears. Peters reached into his pocket for his wallet and paid. A minute or two went by and they got up to leave. I had no idea what to do. What could I say? I didn't have the music or anything.

JW: What happened next?
RB: Just as they neared the door with me behind them, Dianne came through. She walked right up to Barbra and said, “Miss Streisand, my husband there wrote a beautiful song that’s just right for you. I have a cassette and the music here.”

JW: What did Barbra say?
RB: Oh, man, Barbra wasn’t in the mood. She snapped at Dianne, “What’s this? What do you do—you write your own songs and hand them out and keep them with you all the time?” I was dumbstruck. But before Dianne could answer, Barbra said, “Give it here,” and she took the manila envelope Dianne had for her. Then Barbra and Jon Peters left and got their car.

JW: Dianne sounds pretty amazing.
RB: Oh, she is. She's my No. 1 fan. I said to myself at the time, if Barbra Streisand hears Sea Mist in her car, it has to get to her. She has such a beautiful voice, I figured the song had to touch her.

JW: Did Barbra tell you she was going to record it?
RB: A day or so later, we got the envelope back in the mail. Dianne had managed to put our return address on the outside while racing back to the restaurant. The envelope hadn’t even been opened. Someone had just written “Return to Sender” on the outside.

JW: That must have been tough to take.
RB: It was, it was. But look, in those years in California, when you took big risks, the payoff was either huge or you were disappointed for days or weeks. That's why you had to take those kinds of shots. You never knew what could happen.

JW: Sometimes breaks disappear due to misunderstandings.
RB: That's right. Someone you know says they're going to speak to so-and-so on your behalf. If the opportunity doesn't work out, it could have been because it wasn't put the right way.

JW: For example?
RB: Back in 1967, I got a call from Sid Feller, the arranger [pictured with Ray Charles]. We had worked together with Nancy Wilson. Sid asked if I was available to do a date with Doris Day. I said, sure, absolutely. I had always loved Doris Day’s voice. I thought, and still think, her tone and interpretations are so pure and lovely. She is truly exceptional.

JW: Was it a big date?
RB: Oh yes. When I got to the studio, there were a lot of West Coast heavyweights there: Barney Kessel, Irv Cottler and others. We did the recording over several days. When released, the record was called The Love Album. On the final day of recording, Sid came over and said Doris wanted to know if I could stick around afterward.

JW: What did you think?
RB: I thought I had messed up or something. All the guys were packing up to leave, and they kept looking back thinking I had done something wrong.

JW: What was the problem?
RB: Hang on, hang on. After everyone cleared out, Sid came back and said Doris wanted to meet me. I asked if I had done something wrong. Sid said, “No, no, it’s a good thing.” When I walked over with Sid, Marty Melcher, Doris' husband was there, not Doris. Marty [pictured with Doris] said that he and Doris were aware of my talents and that they enjoyed my recordings with Sarah and Nancy.

JW: What did he want?
RB: Marty says, “How would you like to write the theme song to Doris’ next picture?” I said, “You’ve got to be kidding.” Marty said, “No, seriously.” I said absolutely. I had just finished writing a song with Paul Francis Webster, who wrote The Shadow of Your Smile. I asked if they wanted me to call Paul. “No, no, Ronnell, we know Paul,” Marty said. “We want you to write the words and music yourself.”

JW: Did you take on the assignment?
RB: Oh yes. They delivered the script the next day. It was about the New York City blackout of 1966. It was called, Where Were You When the Lights Went Out? So I wrote and wrote and wrote the whole week. I figured that if Doris didn’t like one song, I could always show her another.

JW: So you scored the movie?
RB: About two days before I was to meet Doris at her office on Cannon Drive, Don Genson, her record producer, calls. He says, “Ronnell, I’m so sorry. Marty is unpredictable. He’s already made an agreement with someone else who’s going to do the score. We told him we already had someone to do the title song. But he complained that if he’s going to do the score, he also wanted to write the title song. So Marty made an agreement to let him do it.”

JW: What a lousy break. Who wound up writing the title song?
RB: That was the funny thing. When the movie came out in 1968, it didn’t have a title song.

JW: So they tied you up for weeks and that was it?
RB: No. Don Genson said, “Doris is very upset about this and wants to meet you at her office to make it up to you. She wants to do another project.” Man, my spirit was so down at that point. But I went anyway.

JW: What was Doris like?
RB: Doris was sweet, just like she is in the movies. You looked into her face saw that her eyes were soft and she smiled so easily. She was timid but pompous in a protective sort of way. She sat on a tall stool, and I sat at the piano playing. She said, “You know, Ronnell, how would you like to do an album with me—just the two of us?" I said I’d love to.

JW: Who else was in the room?
RB: Don Genson and her rehearsal pianist. Doris says, “I’ve got a book of sheet music from different Broadway shows. I'd like you to pick a selection of songs from these shows and arrange them in my keys." Doris is a beautiful singer, and I was honored. She said, “If you can come back in a week’s time, we’ll meet and try them out.”

JW: What did you think?
RB: I had just finished staying up night and day writing music for the movie job that was taken away. Now I had to do more homework. But that was fine. I arranged about half the music in her key by the time we met the next time.

JW: How did it go?
RB: Back at her office, her rehearsal pianist was there again. He was throwing me dirty looks the entire time. He didn’t appreciate my being there, and I could understand completely how he felt. And I felt bad for him. Doris and I worked for about an hour. Then I took a break in the hall. I felt awful and couldn't really concentrate with the guy hovering around me.

JW: Did Genson get the picture?
RB: When Don Genson came out, I said, “Don, I appreciate this opportunity. But why is her piano player here? He’s shooting me dirty looks and coming up to the piano and checking out my hands. I can’t work like that. I have to be free. Is there any way to tell Doris not to bring him next time? I want to check out her singing and phrasing on these songs. I also want to communicate with her musically. But this guy is making me nervous.”

JW: So Don took care of it with Doris?
RB: About 15 minutes later, Doris came out with a powder puff, took it out and started powdering her face. “Alright Ronnell, you played for Sarah and Carmen but you don’t want to play for me?” Just as I opened my mouth to explain, she turned and left with Don.

JW: What do you think happened?
RB: I have no idea what Genson said to her. He must have gone inside and said “Well, Ronnell's all steamed up and doesn’t want to play with you under these conditions” or something like that. Whatever he said must have hurt her feelings to produce that kind of reaction.

JW: Why didn't Doris ask you directly for an explanation?
RB: In those days, I think Doris was insulated by the people around her. Maybe there was an insecurity. I have no idea why she didn't jump in and find out the truth for herself.

JW: If you could tell Doris Day something right now, what would it be?
RB: I'd tell her what I didn't have a chance to say that day. To me, Doris was on the same level as Sarah, Carmen, Ella and Nancy. When she sang, she had the love coming right through her. I so enjoyed her singing, and it was a joy to play behind her on The Love Album. I think had we been able to record an album with just the two of us, it would still be considered a jazz and pop classic. But you know how things go—they often happen or don't happen for a reason. If she wanted to record an album with me today, I'd be only too glad to do it.

JW: How did you handle disappointments like that?
RB: Louis Armstrong once sat next to me on the piano bench. I said to Louis, “Do you have a line of advice for a young feller trying to come up in the business?” He said, “Just remember this, Fingers: Your health comes first.” That has always remained with me and has helped me shrug off many tough breaks.

JazzWax tracks: Here's a sampling of Ronnell's compositions recorded by a wide range of jazz artists:

Missing You was recorded by Sarah Vaughan twice—once on No Count Sarah (1958) and again on Close to You (1959). The latter album also includes Ronnell's I've Got to Talk to My Heart.

Carmen McRae recorded Sweet Pumpkin on Live at Century Plaza (1968), while Johnny Hartman recorded Ronnell's Don't Call It Love on I Just Dropped By to Say Hello (1963). Stanley Turrentine recorded And Satisfy on Rough 'n' Tumble (1966). Blue Mitchell recorded two of Ronnell's songs—Missing You on Out of the Blue (1959) and Sweet Pumpkin on Blue's Mood (1960). And Nancy Wilson recorded Ronnell's Funnier Than Funny on Gentle Is My Love (1965).

Interview: Ronnell Bright (Part 4)

As Sarah Vaughan's accompanist between 1958 and 1960 and in 1963, Ronnell Bright learned how to listen hard to singers and anticipate the rich musical support they needed to excel. By the time Ronnell left Sassy the first time in 1960, he was one of the most sought-after accompanists in the music business. When he left again in 1963, he became Nancy Wilson's accompanist and rehearsed her band.

After his years with Wilson in the late 1960s, Ronnell remained in Hollywood and became increasingly involved in playing and arranging for television. He even appeared as a pianist on sitcoms and movies (Sanford & Son, The Jeffersons, They Shoot Horses Don't They). He also continued to play on dozens of artists' albums, including Ella Fitzgerald's Misty Blue.

Throughout his West Coast period, Ronnell continued to compose, collaborating with Johnny Mercer and other leading songwriters. One day, in the early 1980s, he  even got up the courage to call Ella and pitch one of his songs, Sea Mist.

In Part 4 of our conversation, Ronnell talks about his work with Nancy Wilson and bandleader Ray Anthony [pictured] as well as a revealing encounter with Erroll Garner. He also candidly relates the events that followed his visit to Ella's house, illustrating the tough breaks that often follow triumphs in the music business:

JazzWax: How was Nancy Wilson to work with?
Ronnell Bright: Beautiful. They called her “Sweet Nancy” because she had such a sweet disposition. She was a lot of fun. Even tempered, and she never lost her cool. We first recorded The Nancy Wilson Show! in 1964. It was live date at the Coconut Grove in Los Angeles. At this point, I was becoming more and more a part of the Capitol Records scene in L.A.

JW: Did that include meeting your boyhood hero?
RB: Nat? Nancy knew how much I loved Nat King Cole as a kid. So she went up to him out in Los Angeles and said, "Nat, my pianist is over there and would love to meet you." Nat came right up to me and put his face in mine and said, “Hi, Ronnell, I'm Nat Cole.” Just like that. I just shrunk. This is just before he got sick. He said he knew me from Sarah's records. For years, he was to me the epitome of class and artistry. I was speechless.

JW: When did you find the time to write songs?
RB: Sometimes on airplanes or while waiting in a line. I'd write the words first, like a story. Then I'd add the melody and chords. I've written about 120 songs.

JW: You wrote Tender Loving Care, the title of an album you recorded with Nancy, with Johnny Mercer.
RB: I wrote the melody and Johnny [pictured] wrote the lyrics. Nancy loved my song so much she asked Johnny to write the words. She first sent him a cassette tape of me playing, and he loved the song. When he finished writing the lyrics, he called me on the phone. He said, "You know, Ronnell, when I finish the lyrics to songs, I always call the composer first and read them to him." After he read them, he asked me, "Is it alright? If anything is out of sync or cumbersome, you let me know." I told them they were perfect and it was such an honor.

JW: Did you and Johnny Mercer collaborate on any other songs?
RB: Yes, four in total. When I played Comet in the Sky for him at his house, he asked me to add notes in places so his lyrics would work.

JW: What kind of person was Johnny Mercer?
RB: All I know is my experience with him. He was a stand-up person. I remember attending a big gala event with my sister, Lois, in the 1960s. It was like an awards dinner. When I arrived with Lois, they announced us over the speaker system, like royalty or something, and said we'd be at table No. 39. Johnny jumped up from across the room and waved my sister and me over and said we would be joining him, at table No. 1 with his wife Ginger and daughter Mandy. He made room for us. Then he introduced me to Paul Francis Webster, who had just written Shadow of Your Smile. I wrote a song with Paul as well.

JW: Did Johnny ever give you advice?
RB: Well, we met for lunch about three weeks after the gala, and he asked me what I wanted to do ultimately. I told him I wanted to write for the movies. He said, "Well, I don't know. I don't think the time is right." I have no idea what he meant by that comment, but it sure was disheartening.

JW: What did you do after Nancy Wilson.
RB: I played with Ray Anthony [pictured] in 1970. Quincy Jones had recommended me because Ray needed a player and writer/arranger. We were at the Miami Hilton for about three months. Milt Hinton was at the Fontainebleau Hotel, and I'd go by to hear him, and he'd come over to the Hilton. We talked about everything, including bass players.

JW: Who were Milt Hinton's favorites?
RB: He liked Richard Davis, Red Callender and George Duvivier very much. All of those guys came through Miami, and I had a chance to work with all of them.

JW: Who was your favorite bassist?
RB: Ray Brown [pictured], because of those walking bass lines. When I play a single [solo], which I often did in the 1980s at New York's Essex House, I'd walk my left hand thinking of Ray Brown. I'd just turn my left hand loose and it knew what to do.

JW: Speaking of left hands, did you ever meet Erroll Garner?
RB: Oh sure. Erroll came by my house in California. He was playing at Donte's. We sat at my piano and he played and we talked about his approach. I said, “Erroll, how did you get your style?” He said, “Well, Ronnell, when I came along, pianists were all playing stride. Like Teddy [Wilson], Fatha Hines and Art [Tatum]. I never could do that with my left hand. But I could do it in one spot, in the same octave range. A lot of folks didn’t know I was left-handed. My right hand was weakest. I’d always have to play catch up with my right hand, which dragged a little bit.” That’s how Erroll’s style was born.

JW: Erroll must have been frightening to play with.
RB: He was. I talked to two bassists who backed him: Red Callender and Eddie Calhoun. They said you never knew what Erroll was going to do. He had no relationship to keys. He didn’t read music. He’d just play. They said sometimes they’d play Misty in B or F-sharp. The next night the song might be in E or A. Whatever Erroll heard at the moment. There were no difficult keys for Erroll. That's why Erroll always started songs by playing solo or vamping. It gave the bass player time to figure out the key.”

JW: What did Erroll think of you and your playing?
RB: He liked me. I didn’t realize that he had known me from my days in Chicago. He said, “I remember you at the Blue Note, with a trio. I wondered at the time why you were there. I thought you should be in New York.” That was nice to hear.

JW: Did you ever play with Ella?
RB: Yes, on a Country album called Misty Blue. I remember getting the call to play, and when I showed up, my fingers were all set for a swinging session. Instead, it was Ella on a Country date! At the time, they were trying to follow Ray Charles' model by mixing up her repertoire.

JW: Did Ella ever record your songs?
RB: Almost.

JW: Almost? What happened?
RB: Back in 1981, when my wife, Dianne, and I were living in California, on the beach. I called up Ella and told her that I had written a song called Sea Mist and that I thought it would be perfect for her. I told her I wanted to play it for her with hopes she might like it.

JW: What did she say?
RB: Ella said come on over. She gave me her address in Beverly Hills, and I drove out there. Her home [pictured] was stately and in the Spanish Mission style. When I arrived, she led me into a small room with a console piano. She asked if she could get me anything to eat or drink. I told her no thanks, that I couldn’t stay long and that I just wanted to play Sea Mist for her. And that if she didn’t like it, that would be OK, too. “You’re going to sing it, too, aren’t you Ronnell?” So I did.

JW: What did she think?
RB: Before I could finish the song, Ella was on the phone with Norman Granz [pictured] asking him to come over. She said, “Ronnell Bright is over here and he's playing it now.” A half hour later Norman was there, and I was playing and singing the song again. She and Norman spoke on the side. Then Ella asked if I could come back the next day. “I want Nelson Riddle to come over to hear it.”

JW: Wow, did he show?
RB: Oh yes. The next day I played Sea Mist for Ella, Norman and Nelson Riddle. Before I played, Ella told Nelson [pictured below] that Norman had raved about it and that it reminded him of a certain hit song from the 1930s. So I played and sang it again. At the end, Nelson asked Ella, “How do you want to do this?” Ella says, “I want to do it with the big stuff, you know, with violins, cellos, harp, everything.” So Nelson said OK, and he asked me to come with him to his office on Sunset Strip that day.

JW: What happened when you got there?
RB: I sat at the piano and played some of the substitution chords I was using that allowed me to go in different directions. Nelson [pictured] said Ella was going to Europe for two weeks and that he was going to score it for her during that time. A few days later, my phone at home rang and my wife told me Nelson Riddle was on the phone. I said, “Nelson Riddle? What?” I picked up the phone and Nelson said, “Ronnell? I just wanted to tell you that I just finished the arrangement of Sea Mist. It’s a beautiful arrangement. Thank you for letting me write a decent piece of music for a change. I’ve been writing such crap lately. The score is already at Ella’s house. When she comes back from Europe, she’ll find it on her piano."

JW: What did you say?
RB: I said, "Wow, thank you very, very much." He said, “See ya.” Dianne and I celebrated with champagne on the beach. We couldn't believe it.

JW: Did Ella record it?
RB: Hang on. Two months go by. One day I’m at the musician’s union office in L.A. and I run into Al Aarons, the trumpet player who was with Basie [pictured]. We were there picking up checks for studio gigs we had done. Al told  me he was on his way to do a recording session with Ella. I said really, what is it? He said it’s a Norman Granz-Nelson Riddle date. I said, “Oh man, I’m supposed to have a song on there. Ella didn’t call me, though.” Al said, “Hey, if you have a song on there, come ride with me.”

JW: Was it the right session?
RB: Oh, yes. When I walked onto the sound stage at the Universal lot, they were already rehearsing. Marshal Royal was there, Jimmy Rowles, Bob Cooper, Joe Pass, Shelly Manne and a full string section. I went into the booth and sat down next to a friend. I looked back at the controls and saw Norman [pictured]. I waved, but he dropped his head. There I am, anticipating Sea Mist. So I’m waiting for it to come up but it never does. On a break, Ella came into the booth and asked if she could talk to me outside for a minute.

JW: What did she say?
RB: We went outside, and she said, “You know, Ronnell, we’re not going to be able to do your song.” She said that Oscar would be so mad at her if she recorded it. Oscar? I thought to myself. What does Oscar Peterson [pictured] have to do with this? He has his own claim to fame. Maybe he wanted her to record something he wrote and she didn’t and that this would ruffle him. I don't know.

JW: Did she let it go at that?
RB: No, that was more of the set up. She continued that they were all ready to record the song but at the last minute, Norman decided he didn’t want any original material on the album, only standards people knew, to be sure the record sold. Ella said he substituted The Best Is Yet to Come because she hadn’t recorded it yet.

JW: What a blow that must have been.
RB: Tell me about it. When that album came out, I saw that the song they put in became the album title. I just sat there and just looked at the album. I was so sad.

JW: Hey, that score must be kicking around somewhere.
RB: Now hold on a minute. I’m not finished. So several years go by and I’m playing at the Essex House [pictured] in New York and living on 56th St., on the 31st floor. During the years Ella and I had kept in touch, exchanging Christmas cards and such. One day I get a call from Nelson Riddle’s road manager. He says he’s in town and that Ella asked him to call me. He asks if I can meet him in the lobby of his hotel on Sixth Avenue.

JW: Ella wanted to record it?
RB: Hang on. So I went over, we met, and he handed me the Nelson Riddle score to Sea Mist. He said Ella always felt terrible about what had happened and wanted me to have it as a gift. It had Nelson Riddle’s name on it and Ella’s name.

JW: You're an arranger. When you look at how the parts are written, how does it sound in your head.
RB: It’s plush, man. It's Nelson Riddle plush.

JW: Did you ever hire an orchestra to hear how it sounds?
RB: The closest I ever came was having the University of Kansas orchestra play the brass part. I was doing a concert there. But I have never heard the strings and orchestra parts together. One day, hopefully, one day.

Tomorrow, Ronnell shares other music business experiences in California with Barbra Streisand and Doris Day.

JazzWax tracks: Ella Fitzgerald recorded Misty Blue for Capitol Records in December 1967. A Country-themed date arranged and conducted by Sid Feller, the orchestra included a band, strings and choir. The CD is out of print, but copies are available at Amazon from independent sellers. To hear a sample of the title track, go here.

Ronnell's song, Tender Loving Care, can be found on a Nancy Wilson import CD that combines From Broadway with Love (1965) and Tender Loving Care (1966). The CD can be found here. Ronnell plays on both albums. I personally find these albums to be among Nancy Wilson's best. The edge in her voice is softened and her delivery is superb, backed by lush strings and orchestra.

Sea Mist, the song that almost was recorded by Ella Fitzgerald, is available on an out of print Bill Watrous CD called Trombone Summit: Smooth Talk (1990), on which Ronnell plays piano.

But you can also find Sea Mist on a 1996 Buddy Collette CD called Jazz for Thousand Oaks. While the CD is out of print, it is widely available from independent sellers at Amazon for about $8. If you go here, you can sample Sea Mist and hear Ronnell singing and playing his own composition. You can also buy it here.

Interview: Ronnell Bright (Part 3)

Ronnell Bright has composed the music and lyrics to more than 100 songs. Some were co-written with Johnny Mercer, Paul Francis Webster and Sammy Cahn. About a half dozen were recorded by a wide range of jazz artists and vocalists. Ronnell also is a singer and an arranger. Yet Ronnell is probably best known as Sarah Vaughan's accompanist between 1958 and 1960 and again in 1963. During this period, Ronnell and Sarah recorded No Count Sarah, After Hours at the London House, Vaughan and Violins, Dreamy and other live and studio albums.

In Part 3 of my interview, Ronnell reflects on how he met Sassy, their close working relationship, why Sarah stumbled over the word "Parthenon" on After Hours at the London House, how Sarah reacted when he told her he was leaving to join Nancy Wilson, and what accompanying Sarah or any other greater song interpreter requires of a pianist:

JazzWax: Did you and producer John Hammond get along well?
Ronnell Bright: Yes. After the Rolf Kuhn recording and my trio date in late 1957, John encouraged Willard Alexander to come hear me play. At the time, Willard booked all the major bands and jazz artists. After Willard heard me, he signed me right away. One of the first jobs Willard booked my trio into was the Boom Boom Room at the Fontainebleau Hotel in Miami [pictured]. We played there for a week.

JW: What was playing the Fontainebleau like?
RB: Oh, beautiful. It was quite thrilling. Frank Sinatra was upstairs. The audiences were great. And stars dropped by to hear us play every night. But back at that time, blacks couldn’t stay on the same side of the beach as whites. We could work in the hotel, but when we got through we had to take a cab over the bridge to the Sir John Hotel. Basie’s band had to stay there, too. Same with Sammy Davis, Jr. and Lena Horne.

JW: When did you meet Sarah Vaughan?
RB: Around this time in 1957, Willard booked my trio into Storyville in Boston. Working opposite me was Sarah with Jimmy Jones on piano, Richard Davis on bass and Roy Haynes on drums. Sarah was a good friend of Carmen McRae’s and she knew of me. When I went into Storyville, I used Ray Crawford on guitar and a bass player whose name I can't recall. During the gig, Ray leaned over and said, “Hey, man, Sarah is sitting at a table right behind you checking you out.” I didn’t really pay much attention to what Ray said. We played opposite her for about a week.

JW: How did you become her accompanist?
RB: At the end of 1957, Jimmy Jones decided he was going to stay in New York and become a composer and arranger rather than continue to tour with Sarah. He had been with her for 10 years and wanted a change. So George Treadwell, Sarah's husband and manager at the time, called me. I went down to see him at his office in the Brill Building. He said Sarah was deciding between me and Wynton Kelly [pictured] and that it was down to money. I said it would be honor to play for Sarah and whatever she thought would be fair was fine with me. The next thing I knew, I got a call telling me to join her in Washington, D.C. Our first record date in January 1958 was for a few songs used on No Count Sarah. I played piano behind Sarah with Count Basie's band instead of Basie. I don’t know why Basie wasn’t on that date. I suppose I was there because I was Sarah's accompanist, and Basie honored me in that role by letting me play.

JW: You and Sarah were in Chicago in March 1958?
RB: Yes. We were playing Mister Kelly's. Late one night, around 2 am, after the third set, we rushed over from Mister Kelly's to the London House. We were going over there to record a live album for Mercury. If I recall, the same person owned both clubs. That was an amazing night. Everyone I knew was there: bassist Johnnie Pate, pianist Dick Katz, the guys who wrote Detour Ahead—guitarist Herb Ellis and bassist John Frigo. The place was packed. I think the session was the first time a record company recorded a live jazz date cold.

JW: Wasn't there any rehearsal?
RB: Not only were there no rehearsals, there were no charts. There was no time. Sarah went out and bought piano sheet music for each musician and passed it out on stage, at 2 am, just before we started recording. We had to transpose the sheet music to her keys. Everyone had to scuffle.

JW: How did four members of the Basie band wind up on the date?
RB: That's right—Frank Wess, Thad Jones, Wendell Culley and Henry Coker were there, along with me, Richard Davis and Roy Haynes. I believe Basie's band was in Chicago that week recording for Roulette.

JW: What happened on Thanks for the Memory? Sarah trips over the word "Parthenon," and she stops the song—twice.
RB: Sarah had sheet music for the song, like everyone else, and was reading the word "Parthenon," which was hyphenated. She was unfamiliar with the word or what the Parthenon was. So she couldn’t figure out where the emphasis was supposed to go. She stopped cold and calmly worked it out. That was Sarah, recording session or no recording session. No one on stage was prepared for that, as you can hear from the record. It was a live recording, and Sarah doing that was a little scary. But this is what made the session so exciting.

JW: Did you think she was going to abandon the song after the second stumble on the same word?
RB: I had no idea. I was about to say “Parth-ah-non” out loud to help her, but I caught myself, remembering we were recording live. So I stayed quiet. Sarah worked her way through it and kept the moment alive. That's what makes the recording so fresh today, the imperfection and the human quality of trying to fix a mistake. After the session, at around 4 am, we all went out to breakfast and had a blast.

JW: I always found it remarkable that you start Thanks for the Memory with subtle differences each time.
RB: You had to, or Sarah would hear you trying to do what you already did, which to her would be lazy. Sarah rarely did anything the same way twice. She came up through the ranks with Charlie Parker. It was a badge of honor to do things differently each time. There was no other way.

JW: Was it tough to anticipate what Sarah was going to do with a song?
RB: Sometimes. Sarah would change keys in the middle of a song. She’d go som