I never bought into the story about singer Jennie Smith and her backstage attempt to let Steve Allen have it with a pair of scissors. The word was that she and Steve were romantically involved while he was married to his second wife, Jayne Meadows, and that being jilted led scorn and her trying to stab him. None of which may be true. There are only two references to the spurious story online (both unsubstantiated), and I could find no mention of the attempted attack in the database of the country's newspapers. If it happened, the police would have been called and the papers would have covered the incident. My guess is what began as a joke somehow was taken as serious as the gag's tale jumped from one person to the next.
Smith was a regular singer on The Steve Allen Show in the early 1960s, when Allen had a stable of full-time guests who appeared on his show five nights a week. Smith's job was to sing a song or two. And she had the voice and presentation for the task, and was adored by TV and club audiences. Smith was something of a cross between the belting sass of Eydie Gormé and the sterling phrasing of Patti Page. Plus, Smith was inventive with the notes she picked mid-song and had a voice with a powerful passing gear. She also was quite a good composer.
Smith recorded just four albums, all of them wonderful. I only wish she had recorded a couple of dozen more. Her song choices were superb, her arrangers were top shelf and she could really swing and hold a note. A consummate pro.
Born in a West Virginia coal-mining town in 1938, Smith was raised on movie musicals at local theaters and started out singing film songs at home. Smith's father was a radio newscaster, and the family eventually moved to Charleston, the state capital, where he landed a better radio job. After high school, Smith traveled to New York to meet a friend of her father's colleague at the Charleston radio station. That friend was arranger Ray Ellis. The meeting led to an impressed Ellis, an RCA audition and a contract for two albums that Ellis scored. Steve Allen heard one of the tracks on the her first album and invited Smith to do a guest shot on his show in New York.
In the late 1950s, Smith worked major clubs with comedians as well as sang on network radio shows. In 1962, after Allen moved The Steve Allen Show to Los Angeles, Allen asked Smith to come out and sing on his show as a regular guest. Smith moved to Los Angeles. After two years, she left the show to appear frequently in Las Vegas. But by the late 1960s, the shift in music tastes and the grind of travel and breaking in new songs began to take a toll. Smith quit the stage and went to work at the General Reinsurance Corp., a property/casualty and life/health reinsurance company now known as Gen Re. [Photo above from Life magazine featuring Smith running through Sometimes I'm Happy before going on The Steve Allen Show for the first time in 1957]
Smith worked for the company for 31 years and retired in the late 1990s. Along the way she met Arthur Brown. They married in 1978. Smith and Steve Allen co-wrote two songs—After You and After Awhile. Smith wrote the music and Allen the lyrics. She also wrote others.
All four albums by Smith are superb—Jennie Smith (1957) and Love Among the Young (1958), both arranged by Ray Ellis; Nightly Yours on the Steve Allen Show (1963) with Mort Garson, and Jennie (1964), with arrangements by Bob Enevoldsen and a band conducted by Donn Trenner, Steve Allen's musical director.
If Jennie Smith is out there and reads this, I hope she'll reach out to me at [email protected].
JazzWax tracks: Fresh Sound recently released Jennie Smtih's Love Among the Young, paired with Diana Trask's Diana Trask with an orchestra arranged and conducted by Glenn Osser. Go here.
JazzWax note: Fresh Sound has been issuing a terrific series called "The Best Voices Time Forgot." Each CD features two obscure pop-jazz singers. To see the releases, go here and scroll down.
At YouTube, you'll find Jennie (1957) here, Nightly Yours (1963) here and Jennie (1964) here.
There's no such thing as pre-war charm, except in the movies. Pre-war means the Great Depression, when one in four U.S. adults was out of work and misery was spread thin. During the 1930s, to boost the optimism of glum movie-goers, Hollywood created a Gothamized world in which most film characters were largely untouched by the stock-market crash or bank runs. Rather, they strolled palatial homes in smoking jackets, managed the help and ate large English breakfasts. In other words, pre-war charm was a celluloid mystique misted by the strains of songbook soundtracks. Musicals, especially, were rich in sentimental songs by the Gershwins, Cole Porter, Richard Rodgers and other composers of the era.
Raymond De Felitta understands the romance of this world better than most. He's a superb director (Bottom of the Ninth, Madoff, Rob the Mob, City Island, 'Tis Autumn: The Search for Jackie Paris, The Thing About My Folks, Two Family House, Cafe Society among others) and, it turns out, an equally excellent jazz pianist. To prove the point, he has just released a terrific jazz album of songbook standards called Pre-War Charm.
Raymond has been playing piano since he was 6. "We had a player piano and I’d play James P. Johnson and Fats Waller (above) piano rolls, putting my hands on the keys to see how they worked. As a result, stride piano was my first style—I thought it was the way everyone played piano. I played through my childhood, stopped and got back into it in my 20s."
On My Heart Belongs to Daddy, Mine, Blue and Sentimental, Deep in a Dream, Out of Nowhere, What's New?,Then I'll Be Tired of You and The Way You Look Tonight, Raymond is backed by Mike Alvidrez on bass and Paul Kreibich on drums.
On Drop Me Off in Harlem, Stars Fell on Alabama and Deep Purple, Raymond is backed by the wonderful Alex Budman on clarinet and tenor saxophone, and Paul Kreibich on drums.
And on I've Got a Feeling I'm Falling and You Go to My Head, Raymond plays solo piano. And what a solo piano!
Because Raymond grew up in Hollywood (his father was writer-director Frank De Felitta) and knows how the silver screen's magic tricks work, his playing has authenticity and smarts. As I listened repeatedly to his album, I thought of William Powell and Carole Lombard, Mary Astor, "Cuddles" Sakall, Sidney Greenstreet, Edward Everett Horton (above), Margaret Dumont, Sig Ruman, ZaSu Pitts, Monty Woolley, Kitty Carlisle, Raymond Walburn and Roland Young. These erudite types inhabited 1930s movies in which people with white grand pianos and penthouses threw parties for guests who dropped by after the theater, tossed furs and topcoats into a pile and sang and wise-cracked until dawn. Raymond plays piano with these pre-war actors in his heart and fingertips. What make the music so great is that his heart beats for the movie reality, the Gothamized New York of studio lots. As a result, the music is much more convincing, delightfully delicate and a celebration of a world created by brilliant movie studio minds and performers just when America needed them most.
I wish I played piano like Raymond, and you will too. Elegant and masterful, as if tinkling on a keyboard illuminated by a yellow moon and New York's skyline in silhouette behind him. Pre-war charm was a thing, even if it existed solely in dark movie theaters. After all, it got us through an economic wipe-out followed by the horrors of World War II. In Raymond's hands, the songs are played as they should be heard.
JazzWax tracks: You'll find Raymond De Felitta's Pre-War Charmhere or here.
Tubby Hayes was busy in 1969. In addition to touring and being recorded on the road, the tenor saxophonist turned out several studio albums and BBC performances. His playing was uniformly excellent across the dates. His live and studio recordings in 1969 were Rumpus with his big band (live at London's Torrington Pub on May 8), The Orchestra (a Fontana studio date on May 28), an appearance as a sideman on a track with the Harry South Big Band (on June 23), 200% Proof with his big band (a BBC broadcast, on July 25), Live 1969, a quartet date (on August 6), a big-band studio session for composer-conductor Laurie Johnson called Synthesis (at Watford Town Hall on August 8), a big band session on the BBC (on August 24), Blue Hayes: the Tempo Anthology (live at Torrington Pub on October 26) and Live 1969 (at London's Hopbine Club on December 23). [Photo above of Tubby Hayes in 1969]
Now, a magnificent new two-CD set of previously unissued material has been released by Decca/Universal as Grits, Beans And Greens: The Lost Fontana Studio Session 1969. The newly surfaced session tapes were recorded in London and were presumed to have been lost or wiped clean. Instead, the tapes were discovered when the late jazz writer and Polygram catalogue manager Richard Cook noticed that Hayes’s diary entries referenced the phantom recording sessions. These notations sent Cook into the Polygram archives, where he found the 1969 reels in boxes. Soon after, Cook left Polygram and either was too busy to produce the tapes for release or the album idea was rejected by Polygram due to the cost. Or more than likely, Polygram ran into rights issues with the estates of the musicians. The tapes were re-shelved. Not until 2018 were the Hayes Fontana sessions revisited by Universal.
The two-CD deluxe edition was remastered at London's Gearbox Records Studios, directly from the original source tapes. As a result, the finished sound is spectacularly vivid and natural. The album features multiple takes of individual songs, which to many may seem tedious. Not so with Hayes. Here, all of the tracks are gems. Like tenor saxophonists Stan Getz and Joe Henderson in the 1960s, Hayes was brightly lyrical and bouncy and pure ear candy. There isn't a dull moment on this bountiful set. Recorded in May and June 1969, the set features many glorious moments.
On Where Am I Going? (by Cy Coleman/Carolyn Leigh for Sweet Charity), the three takes in May 1969 feature Hayes with Irish guitar great Louis Stewart (above). Three more versions recorded in June appear here without Stewart. I'm assuming the group re-recorded the song because the producer wanted an album of consistent players and that Stewart wasn't available on that date. According to Tom Lord's Jazz Discography, Stewart was in Montreux with Clark Terry two days earlier, so that may account for the problem.
Hayes's For Members Only is a barnburner and features an extended solo by pianist Mike Pyne. Duke Pearson's You Know I Care is a mournful ballad on which Hayes shows off enormous soul and versatility. Hayes's Rumpus and the title track are both terrific. Hayes had an engaging, commanding style that told you instantly who was in charge, but his horn was never gruff or tedious. Everything that emerged from the bell of his instrument was colorful, seamless and hued with English optimism.
It's a shame guitarist Stewart wasn't teamed with Hayes on all of these tracks. Both musicians were masters of melody and harmony, and Stewart provided a dynamic counterpart to Hayes's horn, much the way Jim Hall did with Sonny Rollins on The Bridge. They played and recorded together on many recordings in the 1960s. But Stewart's absence is a minor gripe, since the June 1969 tracks without him are perfect in every way. It's just that the ear grows fond of his guitar against Hayes's blowing on the three tracks and misses him a bit on the balance.
By the way, Fontana was founded in 1954 as a subsidiary of Dutch Philips Records. In Britain, Fontana licensed music by major American labels at different points in time and even had a major hit single in 1966—Winchester Cathedral, by The New Vaudeville Band, which won a Grammy.
Tubby Hayes died in 1973.
JazzWax tracks: You'll find Grits, Beans And Greens: The Lost Fontana Studio Session 1969 here.
You can hear the entire album at Spotify or at YouTube here.
JazzWax notes: So you know, Grits, Beans & Greens comes in two forms. One is the two-CD version with alternate tracks and breakdown tracks that I focused on today.
The other is a single-CD version with just a single take of each tune, what is likely the album that might have been if released.
The take of Where Am I Going? on the single-CD version is the June 1969 recording and does not feature Stewart on guitar.
Both versions are available as CDs and FLAC downloads from Presto in the U.K. The only version available on vinyl is the one with just a single version of each tune.
A special thanks to Stan Jones for this information.
JazzWax clips:Here's Take 1 of Where Am I Going? with Louis Stewart. The track features flecks of John Coltrane's Like Sonny...
In The Wall Street Journal this week, I interviewed Mike McCartney, brother of Paul McCartney, for my "House Call" column in the Mansion section (go here). Mike talked soulfully about his mother, Mary, and the impact her 1956 death had on him emotionally when he was 12. I last interviewed Mike in 2012, when I flew to Liverpool and spent two days with him and received the ultimate Beatles tour (go here). Back in the 1960s, Mike was a member of the performance trio The Scaffold, when he was known as Mike McGear. His 1974 album, McGear, was reissued in the U.S. on Friday (go here). In many ways it's a lost Wings album, since it was produced by Paul, and Mike was backed by Wings. [Photo above of Mike McCartney and me in Liverpool in 2012]
Here's the Queen's favorite song, Thank You Very Much by the Scaffold...
And here's Mike in the All You Need Is Love video at 1:07 sitting directly in front of Paul and John...
Readers often write that they are frustrated about not being able to read my WSJ articles for free. While I get your grousing, please don't complain about it. JazzWax is free; I pay my bills by writing for the WSJ. So if you like JazzWax and want the WSJ material, please pay for an online subscription. It's a great way to spend money. The news side of major media works hard to report the truth and inform and entertain you. A subscription supports that effort, so it's a noble expense. I read five papers a day—TheWSJ, The New York Times, The Washington Post, The New York Post and The Daily News—and gladly pay for all of them. It's money well spent. I understand that some of these papers might not suit your political leanings on the editorial pages, but the news and arts sides don't have political leanings. It's also good to read all sides from smart writers. A small price to pay considering what you get at JazzWax for free, six days a week, year in and year out. And you'll have complete access to my entire 850 articles. Just sayin'.
João Gilberto.Here's a fascinating clip of João Gilberto sent along by pianist Leslie Pintchik. Gilberto is performing Insensatez in Rome in 1983. The camera-person had the good sense to come in tight and stay close. Watch how each nuance of the vocal requires different facial muscles and expressions by Gilberto...
Nenette Evans, who was married to pianist Bill Evans from 1973 until his death in September 1980, sent along a wonderful article on Nardis by Steve Silberman last year (go here). Nardis is a tumultuous work composed by Miles Davis in 1958 that Evans played routinely and often used to stretch out. I'm not a huge fan of Nardis, but the article brings the song to life thanks to Silberman's fine writing and research.
Here's one of the more gentle and poetic renditions of the song in 1965, with the great Chuck Israels on bass and Larry Bunker on drums. I'll say this for Nardis: it's probably the song that best reflects Evans's mood and temperament on any given night on stage or in the recording studio. By the way, this was a spectacular trio (Evans, Israels and Bunker) that doesn't get nearly enough credit...
Slim Gaillard was extraordinarily talented. He was a singer, composer, guitarist and a stunning pianist. He also was a brilliant entertainer. Following my mention of Gaillard last weekend, Aurin Primack, the son of one of the original Birdland owners, sent along the following;
Hi Marc. Saw your mention of Slim Gaillard and thought I would send along a photo Slim and me taken at Birdland around 1951. My dad thought it would be nice if the patrons at the club that night joined Slim in singing Happy Birthday for my 11th birthday. I remember being a bit terrified in the glare of the stage's hot lights. But Slim leaned down and said, "Relax, we'll get through this together, Aurin O'rooney." I asked him later where he got these words/sounds, such as o'rooney, vowtee, mcreeney, etc. Slim said he had to learn other languages as a youngster and he loved the sounds of the languages before he could really understand the words. He was a very talented man and a kind and gentle soul.
Here's Slim and Slam Stewart plus others in 1941..
Another Bill Evans video from 1965, so you really appreciate the trio's genius at this point in time. Here it is...
Jacob Collier. Anthony Mulcahy sent along this clip. Just let the music wash over you. For more on Jacob Collier, go here.
What the heck. I have no idea why, but at 8:30 last night, while writing this post, I had a craving for the Beatles' The Long and Winding Road. So here's a taste of my sudden obsesson...
Oddball album cover of the week.
Wow, this isn't so much an oddball as a shocker. I had no idea Capitol released Prologue as a single. Here's the dynamic showcase track from New Concepts of Artistry in Rhythm...
The year 1973 was an strange one. The Vietnam war raged on, the Watergate hearings were in full swing, the Roe v. Wade decision was handed down by the Supreme Court, the World Trade Center opened in New York, the oil crisis began as cars waited overnight in lines to fill up at gas stations, along with lots of other odd and momentous news events. Many people retreated into music as the price of stereo-system component packages (turntables, receivers, speakers, etc) dropped and FM radio kicked into high gear. [Photo above and below from 1973 by Wil Blanche/The U.S. National Archives]
I was a junior in high school that spring and then a senior in the fall. Albums were everything. You carried them around in school, swapped them and brought the LPs over to friends' houses. Hair was long, sideburns reached the jawline, guys wore work shirts, girls wore elephant bell-bottoms and wooden clogs, muscle cars were hot, we wore aviator glasses, we drank Mateus rosé and Yago Sangria, and everyone talked about the latest arena concerts or who was going to be appearing. On the jazz front, nearly all musicians threw themselves into the rock scene, either with electronic instruments, a more casual stage look or a much hotter approach to brass and horns. Everything was funky and, yes, groovy.
Here are videos of jazz artists performing live in 1973:
Here's Gene Ammons and others in 1973 at the Montreux Jazz Festival...
Here's the spectacular Freddie Hubbard and Junior Cook squaring off in Paris with superb electric piano by George Cables...
Here's Gato Barbieri on the roof of a building on Manhattan's West Side...
Here's the mystical Rahsaan Roland Kirk in Bologna, Italy. This one is for Billy C....
Duduka Da Fonseca plays drums with a stirring, sensuality. It's like listening to crushed ice melt at the beach. His last album in 2018 was a loving tribute to Brazilian samba-funk pianist Dom Salvador, who I believe is still playing regularly at New York's River Café at age 81. Duduka's latest album is Samba Jazz & Tom Jobim (Sunnyside), with pianist Helio Alves and vocalist Maucha Adnet. Born in Brazil, Alves is a pianist and composer who now lives in New York. Adnet is a singer-composer who also was born in Brazil and toured extensively with Jobim in the 1990s. [Photo above of Helio Alves, left, and Duduka Da Fonseca]
Duduka is from Brazil as well. He moved to New York in 1975 and has been here ever since, performing often in the city and in Brazil as well as everywhere else on tour. The rest of the musicians on the album are Billy Drewes on saxophone and flute (tracks 2-7, 9, 10 and 12); Romero Lubambo on guitar (tracks 1, 2 5, 9, 10 and 11); Hans Glawischnig on bass, and special guests Claudio Roditi on track 1 and Wynton Marsalis on track 11.
There are five Jobim songs—Pato Preto, Dindi, A Correnteza, Voce Vai Ver and Polo Pony. The rest are originals by members of the group: Gemini Man (Roditi), Alana (Duduka), Untitled (Alves), Pedra Bonita Da Gavea (Adnet), Helium (Alves) and A Vontade Mesmo (Raul de Souza). The bonus track is I Loves You Porgy.
As Alves writes in his liner notes, "Duduka, Maucha and I have been working together for over a quarter of a century. This album is the result of our experiences touring, playing and recording together for all these years." The music is like listening to old friends deep in conversation. There's also plenty of Brazilian soul and stardust, and a rainbow of moods. A lovely album.
JazzWax tracks: You'll find Samba Jazz & Tom Jobim (Sunnyside) here and here. It's due at the end of August but you can pre-order.
Born in Tampa, Fla., and raised in Tallahassee, alto saxophonist Cannonball Adderley studied music at Florida A&M before becoming the band director at Dillard High School in Fort Lauderdale. In 1955, Adderley moved to New York to explore studying at graduate-level music schools. He was joined by his brother, trumpeter and cornetist Nat Adderley, who had been on tour with Lionel Hampton. As the story goes, the Adderley brothers brought their instruments to the Café Bohemia at 15 Barrow Street in Greenwich Village. That night, Cannonball was asked by bassist Oscar Pettiford to sit in and fill the spot of Pettiford's regular alto saxophonist, who was late.
Adderley's first recording as a sideman came in June, on Kenny Clarke's Bohemia After Dark. His reputation grew so fast that a month later Savoy hired him to record as a leader. A week after Cannonball's Savoy session, Bob Shad at EmArcy, a Mercury jazz subsidiary, signed Cannonball to record a series of releases for the label as a leader and sideman. His first for the label recorded in July and August was an album simply entitled, Julian Cannonball Adderley.
Adderley's lightning-fast rise had much to do with Charlie Parker's death months earlier in March 1955 and his natural gift for playing and leading. Parker's passing left a hole in the jazz world for a superstar alto saxophonist, and Adderley was more than prepared to fill that role. There was blues in his tone, he was fast and he knew his music. But most of all, he was highly disciplined.
The musicians on Adderley's first EmArcy recording session on July 21 included Nat Adderley (cnt), Jimmy Cleveland (tb), Cannonball Adderley (as), Jerome Richardson (fhr,ts), Cecil Payne (bar), John Williams (p), Paul Chambers (b) and Kenny Clarke (d). They recorded The Songs Is You, Cynthia's in Love, Hurricane Connie and Purple Shades.
On July 29, trombonist J.J. Johnson replaced Jimmy Cleveland on Cannonball, Everglade and You'd Be So Nice to Come Home To. The August 5th session featured Nat Adderley (cnt); J.J. Johnson (tb); Cannonball Adderley (as); Jerome Richardson (fhr,ts); Cecil Payne (bar); John Williams (p); Paul Chambers (b); and Max Roach (d). They recorded Willows, Fallen Feathers and Rose Room.
Quincy Jones (above) played a major role in the album's sound. He arranged all the songs for the Adderley octet, composing three of them (Willow, Hurricane Connie and Fallen Feathers, which is a twist on Charlie Parker's ballad Parker's Mood), and co-wrote Everglade with Adderley. The rest of the songs were by Adderley.
This is a sterling album that over the years has been largely forgotten. Adderley sounds superb, with his lush vibrato, golden tone and fluid technique. He could play joy and melancholy with equal conviction, and in that regard he was Parker's heir on the instrument. Yesterday, I listened to the album 10 times in a row and never tired of Quincy Jones's touch and Adderley's lyrical runs. The octet is dynamic and smartly combined. The album is perfect in every way and a must own. [Photo above, from left, of Cannonball Adderley and Nat Adderley]
When trombonist and bandleader Tommy Dorsey died in November 1956 at his 23-room mansion in Greenwich, Ct., his financial affairs were a mess. Married to his third wife, Janie New, Dorsey passed away several days shy of a court appearance to reply to New's divorce suit. According to the autopsy, Dorsey, 51, had thrown up while he slept, and food lodged in his windpipe and lungs.
For whatever reason, Dorsey did not have a will, and he reportedly left only about $15,000. Dorsey was a big spender. Since New needed money to support their two small children after Tommy's death, she sold their heavily mortgaged Greenwich home for $90,000 (it was worth $130,000 at the time, or $1.2 million in today's dollars). She also sold off Dorsey's publishing companies and then turned to a series of tapes Dorsey had made with his brother Jimmy and their joint band in 1954 and 1955. The Dorseys had financed the recording sessions themselves, and New sold the master tapes to Columbia.
The recordings were released by Columbia in 1958 as The Fabulous Dorseys in Hi-Fi, released as two single-LP volumes. As Peter J. Levinson noted in his book, Tommy Dorsey: Livin' in a Great Big Way: "Fortunately for her, the album sold well; it would reach a peak of #8 on the Billboard pop chart in 1958."
Arrangements were by Ernie Wilkins, Howard Gibeling, Deane Kincaide, Sy Oliver, Bill Jones and Neal Hefti. I've owned the albums since the early 1970s, and they remain among the Dorseys finest joint recordings. The sound is spectacular and the feel is Dorsey, but warmly modern, in an elegant brassy way. [Photo above of Jimmy, left, and Tommy Dorsey]
Here is a soundless color home movie of the Tommy Dorsey Orchestra on the road in 1954 shot by Buzzy Brauner (above, left, with Dorsey), a tenor saxophonist who played with both Jimmy and Tommy Dorsey. A special thanks to his son, Steve, who sent along the link to the home movie. My suggestion is to click on the songs below and watch the home movie while the music plays...
Arno Marsh, a big band tenor saxophonist who recorded almost exclusively with Woody Herman's Third Herd in the 1950s and cited Chu Berry and Stan Getz among his major influences, died on July 12. He was 91. [Photo of Arno Marsh with Woody Herman courtesy of Randy Marsh]
In addition to his work with Herman, Arno led a band in his home town of Grand Rapids, Mich., between 1951 and '53, but the ensemble isn't known to have recorded. Arno began playing in Las Vegas starting in the late 1950s and worked continuously there until the lengthy musicians strike of 1989, which lasted nearly 8 months. The strike began over a move by hotels to use taped music instead of live musicians in large production shows.
Resolved in 1990, the strike gave the hotels unfettered power to use recorded music in exchange for a one-time payment to displaced musicians. In many ways, the strike broke the musicians union's hold over orchestra work in Vegas and left many older players sidelined after decades of residence and steady work. [Photo of Arno Marsh above playing Stan Getz's 1954 Selmer Mark VI, courtesy of Randy Marsh]
Arno recorded just four leadership albums, all for Woofy Productions. We have Bob Lorenz to thank for those recordings. Bob, the founder of Woofy, had the good sense to record Arno at Capozzoli's and at the Lighthouse Cafe. The superb albums are Arno Marsh Quintet with Carl Fontana Live at Capozzoli's, Volumes 1, 2 and 3 (1997) and The Arno Marsh Quintet: Sunday Afternoons at the Lighthouse Cafe (2004). You'll find them here,here,here and here.
In tribute to Arno, here is my entire 2012 interview:
If you were a superb musician back in the 1940s and lived in a city or moved to one, you were likely going to find yourself auditioning for a name band pretty quickly. But for every great musician who wound up in a major orchestra, there were hundreds of others who remained in their smaller home towns and earned a decent living playing in territory bands. Tenor saxophonist Arno Marsh was one of those regional musicians—until he ran into Urbie Green in 1951. [Pictured, from left: Trumpeter Don Fagerquist, Arno Marsh and tenor saxophonist Georgie Auld at Capitol Records in Hollywood in 1958, courtesy of Arno Marsh]
Green brought him into Woody Herman's band. Unlike many of the tenor saxophonists who worshiped Lester Young and adapted his cooler, linear sound, Arno favored Chu Berry [pictured], Ben Webster, Coleman Hawkins and Sonny Rollins—saxophonists with more bite. In the '50s, Marsh played mostly in Woody Herman's Third Herd, with stints in the '56 orchestras of Stan Kenton and Maynard Ferguson before settling in Las Vegas for the weather and steady work.
Arno talks about growing up in the Midwest, his early career on local bands that toured neighboring states and his later years:
JazzWax: What did your father do in Grand Rapids? Arno Marsh: My dad played banjo, before the guitar became popular. Then he was a professional guitarist. He also copied music for the Grand Rapids Symphony. And in his spare time he was a painter and mechanical draftsman. Later in life he built a lake resort in Northern Michigan.
JW: Your dad was quite something. AM: He was. My mother was a piano player and flutist. But back in the early days when they met, she played piano in silent movies. Unfortunately my mom became ill early.
JW: What happened? AM: Schizophrenia. She was in and out of institutions when I was young. As a result, I hardly knew her. I only saw her maybe three or four times in my life.
JW: Who raised you? AM: My grandparents. My dad, my brother and I lived all with them in their house. At least we had the influence of one female.
JW: Is your brother older or younger than you? AM: My brother Jim is a year younger. He joined the Army when he was 18 years old and spent his career in the military. He wasn’t musically inclined.
JW: How did you become interested in music? AM: I loved music from the time I was a child. I always was more interested in listening to Louis Armstrong than Guy Lombardo. And there was always music in the house. My father often had jam sessions there, and he played jazz—or whatever they played in the 1930s.
JW: Did you listen to records? AM: Not records, just the family radio. I’d listen to whatever came on. When I was 10 years old, the doctor diagnosed me as being asthmatic. He told my dad he should get me blowing an instrument.
JW: What did your dad do? AM: He brought home a trumpet, but I didn’t like it. So he brought home an alto sax. That was better, and I took some private lessons. In high school I played in the marching and concert bands. Pianist Clare Fischer was there, too. He organized our school’s first dance band.
JW: What was your first professional job? AM: In1946, I left high school to go out on the road in a sleeper bus doing one nighters with the Walter Marty Orchestra, a territory band. Marty played alto sax.
JW: Did your high school pals join you? AM: Yes, eventually, I got a whole bunch of guys from Grand Rapids on the band. Clare and his trumpeter-brother Dirk, trumpeter Bill Velten, drummer Mike Balish, tenor saxophonist Morey Velten. There were six of us. Eventually we all went with John Paul Jones, another territory band out of Salina, Kan. We used stock arrangements. I wasn’t with the band very long—maybe into 1947. Jones broke it up, and all of us went home to Grand Rapids.
JW: How did you wind up on the tenor sax? AM: I worked with a band called the Duke Ambassadors, a band started by Sonny Burke in the '30s at Duke University. When I was on the band, it was fronted by drummer Sammy Fletcher. He came in to do a summer job in Michigan and he needed a tenor saxophonist. I worked with the band during the summers of 1947 and '48. [Pictured: The Duke Ambassadors in 1937]
JW: What did you do after playing with the Duke Ambassadors? AM: I went with Joe Saunders. He was a piano player. I did some time on the road playing one-nighters. By 1949, I went with pianist Lee Lockwood in St. Joseph, Mich., at the Whitcomb Hotel [pictured]. It was strictly dinner music and dancing. I did that for a year, until 1950.
JW: What did you do next? AM: I went back to Grand Rapids again. There weren’t many gigs. Back home, guys would meet, shake hands and play stock arrangements. I worked a lot at the Crispus Attucks American Legion Hall with small groups. Then I did after-hours clubs at the Lamar Hotel. It was just a quartet fronted by Harold “Popeye” Booker, a piano player. Dick Twelvetrees was the drummer and Pete Glover was on bass and me on tenor and alto. We played strictly jazz. [Pictured: Eastown Theater in Grand Rapids, Mich.]
JW: How did you get discovered by Woody Herman? AM: Woody’s band came through Muskegon, Mich,, and played at the Fruitport Pavilion. I already knew Urbie Green.
JW: When did you meet Green? AM: When Urbie [pictured] was with Gene Krupa’s band in 1948. He had asked me to sit in with some of the guys in the band when they closed down the joint where they were playing. My chops were up, and I had made an impression. I was working with the Duke Ambassadors in Michigan, playing a ballroom in Grand Haven, when they came through. We were off that day, so I had a chance to meet Don Fagerquist and Al Porcino. Urbie was a nice guy.
JW: How did your audition go with Herman? AM: It went great. Soon after the audition I received a telegram offering me a chair in the band. They were in Detroit at that point. But I had an interesting situation.
JW: What? AM: In one hand I had Woody’s wire asking me to join the band. In the other I had a draft notice just as the Korean War was heating up.
JW: What happened? AM: I took the physical but flunked. I had a history of being an asthmatic.
JW: So you joined Herman’s band? AM: Yes, I joined Woody in December of 1951. We went out on the road for a few days to Oklahoma. On my first gig, I had to sight-read the band’s book.
JW: Whose chair did you fill? AM: I replaced Kenny Pinson, who returned to Detroit. The reed section was me, Dick Hafer and Bill Perkins on tenors, with Sam Staff on baritone and Woody, of course, on alto. Nat Pierce was on piano, Sonny Igoe on drums, Chubby Jackson on bass, Urbie Green, his brother Jack and Carl Fontana on trombones, and Doug Mettome and Don Fagerquist at different points. [Photo, from left: Woody Herman, Arno Marsh, Dick Hafer, Bill Perkins and Sam Staff, courtesy of Arno Marsh]
JW: What do you remember of Fagerquist? AM: His nickname was Dugan. When Chubby Jackson left the band, Red Kelly came in. He gave Don that name, and I have no idea what it signified.
JW: What other changes took place? AM: Sonny Igoe was replaced by Art Mardigan. We started making noise with that band in 1952. We got into San Francisco and Ralph Gleason [pictured] wrote a column in the San Francisco Chronicle that named us "The Third Herd." Woody’s bands hadn’t been named before that.
JW: What did you think of Fagerquist? AM: I enjoyed Don’s playing. He was such a tremendous jazz player. He was a funny guy.
JW: What did you think of Doug Mettome? AM: He was a fantastic trumpet player. One of the biggest, fattest sounds I ever heard coming out of a horn. When I first joined the band, both Doug Mettome and Don Fagerquist were in there, if you can believe it. Don and Doug together were unbelievable. Don, of course, played jazz trumpet, and Doug played lead.
JW: And Chubby Jackson? AM: Chubby was a very funny guy. He had been in Woody's 1945 "Goosey Gander" band. When I joined in '51, we had some uniforms made. The jacket was one color and the pants another. Chubby had his made in reverse colors. That's the kind of humor he had.
JW: What was Woody Herman like? AM: Let me tell you something about Woody. Everyone who had worked in that band loved the man. Woody showed his musicians enormous respect. If he didn’t like you, you left pretty quickly. That happened to tenor saxophonist Phil Urso. He was a strange guy. I never got close to him. He got fired during a Hollywood broadcast. He did something goofy and was gone.
JW: Was the Third Herd band drug-free? AM: As far as I knew there were no drug users on that band. Woody had put up with that in the Four Brothers band and it lost quite a bit of money when he had to break it up. After the Four Brothers band, Woody wanted an orchestra that could connect with more fans. The Third Herd’s book was more danceable.
JW: You left Herman in 1953? AM: Yes. I went back to Grand Rapids. I was on the road so long it started to get to me. Frankly, I don’t know how all those bandleaders did it.
JW: Why was the road so hard? AM: You’re traveling 300 to 400 miles each day, sometimes through the night. Once in a while you get to stay in one location for a while, but that was rare. You’re checking in and out of hotels. [Photo of Woody Herman and Arno Marsh in 1952, courtesy of Arno Marsh]
JW: How did you do the wash? AM: Hotels had laundry service. You usually didn’t eat in the room. You ate in hotel coffee shops.
JW: How did the band travel in ’52 and ‘53? AM: By car. Woody leased a fleet of four cars. We didn’t follow each other. That was a recipe for trouble. Each driver knew the directions and drove independently of each other. [Photo of Arno Marsh and a photo-miffed Woody Herman in 1952, courtesy of Arno Marsh]
JW: What about the wardrobe and drums? AM: We carried our horns in the cars. But the band boy handled all the clothes and drums. He drove a small van. He traveled independently as well, often leaving ahead of us so he could get there first and set up. [Photo of Arno Marsh, left, and Bill Harris on solo trombone in 1956, courtesty of Arno Marsh]
JW: Where did you eat? AM: At truck stops. You have to remember that this was the days before air conditioning in cars. In warm weather, it could be very hot. And if the heat wasn’t working, cold in the winter. [Photo of Arno Marsh soloing with Woody Herman in 1956, courtesy of Arno Marsh]
JW: And if you were black? AM: Oh, it was much harder. I remember we did a concert tour with Dinah Washington and the Mills Brothers. When we got down South, they had to stay in black neighborhoods. I was driving a station wagon on that trip while the rest for the band was on the bus. I was driving the guitar player in the Mills Brothers. I stayed where Dinah and the Mills Brothers stayed. I can tell you it was demeaning for people as talented as they were. But the places we stayed were so friendly to me, and the food was so good. [Photo of Victor Feldman on vibes with Arno Marsh behind, right, in Woody Herman's 1956 road band, courtesy of Arno Marsh]
JW: When you went back home, what did you do? AM: I formed my own group. Norm Schnell on piano, Bob Tuller on bass, Dick Twelvetrees on drums and me on tenor. We worked at the Hotel Rowe in Grand Rapids. Then we went up north in the summer, since hotel management would shut the Rowe in the hot weather. [Photo of Woody Herman's Third Herd courtesy of Arno Marsh] JW: What did you do in the years that followed? AM: I played the Rowe for a couple of years. Then in December 1955, I went back with Woody. [Photo of Woody Herman's Third Herd, courtesy of Arno Marsh]
JW: Why? AM: I missed the big time. Woody kept that band together until 1956. Then he broke it up to go into the Riviera Hotel in Las Vegas.
JW: What did you do? AM: I went to Chicago and transferred into the union there. While I was there, Stan Kenton was at the Blue Note. He needed a saxophonist because Lennie Niehaus was leaving. His wife had just had a baby. Tenor saxophonist Bill Perkins shifted to lead alto, and I played Bill’s tenor book. The other reeds were Billy Root on tenor and Pepper Adams on baritone.
JW: Big difference in the reed sections? AM: Oh yes. Woody was the kind of bandleader who would get up and start stomping and swinging right away. Kenton’s band was so heavily loaded it was like trying to pick up a house. The emphasis was always on volume rather than swing. This was 1956. I was with Kenton for only about 30 days. He broke up that band in Los Angeles.
JW: What was next for you? AM: I decided to transfer into the Los Angeles local. While I was there, I played in one of Maynard’s Dreambands [pictured]. The charts were by Al Cohn, Johnny Mandel and Willie Maiden. The reeds were Joe Maini on alto, Richie Kamuca and me on tenor, and Willie Maiden on baritone.
JW: What else did you do in L.A.? AM: I auditioned for Les Brown and got the gig. Billy Usselton was leaving to join Ray Anthony, who had landed a TV show. But then Usselton decided not to leave, and the Brown gig fell through for me.
JW: What happened next? AM: I joined Hank Penny in Las Vegas. Hank was a country humorist. The band behind him was a small jazz group. I spent two years with Penny in Vegas.
JW: How did you get the job? AM: Sue Thompson, Penny’s wife, sang with his band. She talked to the band’s bass player to introduce us.
JW: What was the town like back then? AM: Vegas in the late 50s was really different. It was just starting to surpass Reno’s population. There was so much work for a musician. If you could play, you didn’t stop working. I transferred into the Las Vegas union. [Pictured, from left: trombonist Trummy Young, radio personality Ted Phillips and Arno Marsh in 1957 outside radio station KOWL in Lake Tahoe, courtesy of Arno Marsh]
JW: You played with Charlie Ventura there? AM: That’s right. Charlie came into the Thunderbird Hotel and needed a tenor player. Ventura was a sweetheart. Al Cohn had written his book. They were all groovy charts. There were four reeds, two trombones, two trumpets, Charlie on tenor, and a trio. We were working opposite Jackie and Roy in ‘57.
JW: Did you stay out there? AM: I did. I worked the Reno-Lake Tahoe-Las Vegas circuit.
JW: Did you spend any time in New York? AM: Yes, when I was with Woody in ’52 and ‘53. One time we were working at the Band Box, which was next door to Birdland. During a break, we went up to the street for some air. A cab pulled up and Charlie Parker jumped out. But he couldn’t pay the driver. I remember he was playing Birdland that night with Art Taylor, George Duvivier and Bud Powell. [Photo by Bob Parent]
JW: What happened? AM: While the cab was idling, Parker ran down to the bar to get some money. But he came back empty-handed. They wouldn’t give him an advance. So I paid his fare.
JW: Did you get to know Parker? AM: I was rooming with baritone saxophonist Sam Staff in Woody’s band. Sam played baritone. We roomed at the Hotel Knickerbocker, which was on 45th St. just east of Broadway. Sam knew Parker, and sometimes Parker would come up, and they’d play chess. Parker was a real nice guy.
JW: Was that the first time you met Parker? AM: Actually no. One time, when I was with one of those territory bands back in 1946 or '47, we played in Kansas City. After our show was over, a bunch of the guys went to this old movie theater on 18th and Vine, which had become a club.
JW: Why? AM: They had what were called Blue Monday Sessions. These were jam sessions that would start late Sunday night and last until daybreak on Monday. Well, we’re playing one of those, and in comes this guy with an alto saxophone. He got up and played in front of us and floored everyone. It was Parker. He was in K.C. visiting his mother.
JW: Who was your biggest influence? AM: Chu Berry, Ben Webster and Coleman Hawkins. Sonny Rollins. And Wardell Gray and Stan Getz. I loved Getz and marveled at his playing. His ability, facility and knowledge and concept were amazing. [Photo of San Getz and fan Roy Mathers]
JW: What was the turning point in Las Vegas for jazz musicians? AM: I think the long musicians strike in 1989. After it was settled, the hotels didn’t want us anymore. There’s very little work there now for older musicians. I live about 25 miles out of town. I play once a week or so with a couple of bands that features young musicians and us older guys. It keeps our chops in shape.
JazzWax clips: Here's Arno Marsh in 2009 with fellow saxophonist Tom Hall playing Disc Jockey Jump. Arno is on the left...
Here'sHow High the Moon at the Lighthouse in 2004, featuring Bob Summers (tp), Arno Marsh (ts), Ross Tompkins (p), Chuck Berghofer (b) and Paul Kreibich (d)...
Here's Nancy Wilson at the Sands in Las Vegas singing I Can't Get Started with Arno blowing a tenor sax obbligato...
And here's Arno with Woody Herman in 1958 at Peacock Lane in Los Angeles playing Gene Roland's arrangement of Ready, Get Set, Jump...
This week in The Wall Street Journal, I interviewed retired singer Linda Ronstadt for my "House Call" column in the Mansion section (go here). We talked about growing up in Arizona, singing around her family house, Linda's fondness for Bing Crosby and Rosemary Clooney, and her new diagnosis (it's not Parkinson's).
Here's Linda singing Tracks of My Tears in 1975...
Jan Menu. Following my post on 10 Gerry Mulligan tribute albums, readers wanted to know a little more about baritone saxophonist Jan Menu and his album, Mulligan Moods (3D). Born in 1962, Jan is from the Netherlands and studied at the Conservatory of Music in Hilversum. He began as a tenor saxophonist but switched to the baritone and doubles on soprano. Backing him on the album are Jesse van Ruller (g), Clemens van der Feen (b) and Joost van Schaik (d). You can listen here.
Here's Jan and the Four Baritones featuring Katharina Thomsen...
Most famous home runs.Here are 20 of the most dramatic home runs in baseball history [photo above of Bobby Thompson, center, after clocking the ninth-inning "shot heard 'round the world" and helping the Giants beat the Dodgers to the National League pennant]...
Slim Gaillard radio. On Sunday (July 21), Symphony Sid Gribetz will host a five-hour radio broadcast celebrating composer, vocalist, pianist and guitarist Slim Gaillard on WKCR's Jazz Profiles from 2 to 7 p.m. To listen from anywhere in the world on your computer or smartphone, go here.
Here's Gaillard in action (dig the size of his hands and fingers, not to mention his superb keyboard technique)...
David Crosby.Here's the trailer to the new David Crosby documentary, Remember My Name...
Extraordinary vocal group.Here'sGente Stelar singing After the Love Has Gone...
Jazz 'n Roll. Here, this jazz group from Israel takes on Tears for Fears' Everybody Wants to Rule the World. Vocalist Ella Tadmor is backed by Omer Rizi (p), Alon Carmelly (b) and Asaf Dagan (d)...
Marc Myers writes regularly for The Wall Street Journal and is author of "Anatomy of 55 More Songs," "Anatomy of a Song," "Rock Concert: An Oral History" and "Why Jazz Happened." Founded in 2007, JazzWax has won three Jazz Journalists Association awards.