* "Jazz Memories" were written in 1987-88 and originally published in jazz notes: Newsletter of the Gainesville Friends of Jazz, Inc. - Copyright 2018 Estate of Jon Henry.
#1:
There was a lot of jazz played in Philadelphia in the 30's and 40's from mediocre to great. Somewhere a bit above mediocre was the 12-piece Henry/Dawson Swing Band that played Saturday night dances at the American Legion Hall in downtown Philadelphia around 1941-2. They played all the swing and ballad tunes of the day. Orchestrations cost 75-cents each, including the great "Killer Diller" arrangements by Fletcher Henderson, Mary Lou Williams, Gene Gifford, Jimmy Mundy, Larry Clinton, Edgar Battle, and Edgar Sampson. Tunes like King Porter Stomp, Moten Stomp, White Heat, Study in Brown, Roll'em, Goody Goody, Blue Lou, Down South Camp Meeting, Organ Grinder Swing, Dream of You.
I played rhythm guitar and tried to be as steady as Freddie Greene. What really excited me was when Will Harris stood up to take his trombone solo. His burr tone and choppy rhythmic delivery was already well established and, although there were some fine musicians in the band, we all recognized that Will was special. He constantly amazed us with his inventions and most of the time took double solos. He had trouble reading music cold but no trouble interpreting it.
After the gig, I would drive Will to White's Cafe on Fitzwater Street in South Philadelphia - a corner bar, narrow and long - about 15' x 60", white tile floor and walls with booths on the side. The musicians were at the back near the "Ladies" entrance. Turtle on piano and Danny Baxter guitar, and occasionally Charlie Ventura would sit in, too. When I first saw Danny's fingers, I realized what a distance I had to go to be a pro. They were all calus like petrified hot dogs but agile. Will would unpack his trombone and sit in for about an hour, then I would drive him home up Ridge Avenue to North Philly. A few years later, after he learned to read music better, "Bill" was with Woody Herman and I went to New York and joined the art staff at Esquire Magazine.
I played rhythm guitar and tried to be as steady as Freddie Greene. What really excited me was when Will Harris stood up to take his trombone solo. His burr tone and choppy rhythmic delivery was already well established and, although there were some fine musicians in the band, we all recognized that Will was special. He constantly amazed us with his inventions and most of the time took double solos. He had trouble reading music cold but no trouble interpreting it.
After the gig, I would drive Will to White's Cafe on Fitzwater Street in South Philadelphia - a corner bar, narrow and long - about 15' x 60", white tile floor and walls with booths on the side. The musicians were at the back near the "Ladies" entrance. Turtle on piano and Danny Baxter guitar, and occasionally Charlie Ventura would sit in, too. When I first saw Danny's fingers, I realized what a distance I had to go to be a pro. They were all calus like petrified hot dogs but agile. Will would unpack his trombone and sit in for about an hour, then I would drive him home up Ridge Avenue to North Philly. A few years later, after he learned to read music better, "Bill" was with Woody Herman and I went to New York and joined the art staff at Esquire Magazine.
Above: Jon with his guitar, 1938 (Atlanta?)
Below: Jon with the "Esquires Band," 1937 (Philadelphia)
Below: Jon with the "Esquires Band," 1937 (Philadelphia)
#2:
Fifty-second Street (NYC) was alive with jazz in 1946. Bop was developing and musicians were playing anywhere they could whether they were getting paid or not ---- Fats Navarro, Allen Eager, Diz, Bird, Getz, Miles, Slam, Garner, Hawkins, Hank Jones, Tatum, Billy Holiday, Cecil Payne, Illinois Jacquet, etc.
Between 5th and 6th Avenues on 52nd Street, there was the 3-Deuces, the Spotlight, Onyx, Yacht Club, Hi-Hat, Downbeat, and Jimmy Ryans. Many were converted row house basements with a staircase to the street. People walked around stopping on the sidewalk in front of a club to listen for awhile, then move on to the next club a door or two away. Most of the groups were 3 to 6 musicians. It was a big event when Dizzy and his 18-20 piece band came to the Spotlight Club. The night we were there, the room was filled with people crowded around tables just large enough to hold a few drinks. For some reason, my wife and I - without tipping anyone - were seated up front. When the band opened with Shaw 'nuff, OOp-Bop-Sham-Bam, then Things to Come, the sound bouncing off the low pressed-metal ceiling was the most fantastic, pure and undistorted musical sound I'd ever heard. My entire body vibrated; I became one with the music. They had no (and needed no) amplification. The closest any group since has come to that sound was in the 60's, standing in front of the speakers of Sun Ra's Arkestra in Central Park; but then the enjoyment quickly turned to pain as distortion set in.
After a few years, jazz on 52nd Street slowly disappeared and the strippers moved in, except for the 3-Deuces and Jimmy Ryan. Then, it was just Jimmy Ryan who catered more to New Orleans style music. For awhile, 52nd Street was a great jazz woodshed like 10th Street would be for abstract expressionism 8 years later.
Between 5th and 6th Avenues on 52nd Street, there was the 3-Deuces, the Spotlight, Onyx, Yacht Club, Hi-Hat, Downbeat, and Jimmy Ryans. Many were converted row house basements with a staircase to the street. People walked around stopping on the sidewalk in front of a club to listen for awhile, then move on to the next club a door or two away. Most of the groups were 3 to 6 musicians. It was a big event when Dizzy and his 18-20 piece band came to the Spotlight Club. The night we were there, the room was filled with people crowded around tables just large enough to hold a few drinks. For some reason, my wife and I - without tipping anyone - were seated up front. When the band opened with Shaw 'nuff, OOp-Bop-Sham-Bam, then Things to Come, the sound bouncing off the low pressed-metal ceiling was the most fantastic, pure and undistorted musical sound I'd ever heard. My entire body vibrated; I became one with the music. They had no (and needed no) amplification. The closest any group since has come to that sound was in the 60's, standing in front of the speakers of Sun Ra's Arkestra in Central Park; but then the enjoyment quickly turned to pain as distortion set in.
After a few years, jazz on 52nd Street slowly disappeared and the strippers moved in, except for the 3-Deuces and Jimmy Ryan. Then, it was just Jimmy Ryan who catered more to New Orleans style music. For awhile, 52nd Street was a great jazz woodshed like 10th Street would be for abstract expressionism 8 years later.
#3:
In the middle and late 30's in Philadelphia, there were three theaters where the great swing bands played. Up North Broad Street was the Nixon Grand; on South Broad Street was the Lincoln; and at 11th & Market was the Earl. They all showed a cartoon, a newsreel short, a full-length movie, and then the curtain would go up to reveal the band: Fletcher Henderson, Cab Calloway, Duke Ellington, Chick Webb, Andy Kirk, Jimmy Lunceford, Bob Crosby, Fats Waller, Willie Bryant, Count Basie, Casa Loma, Lucky Millender, Claude Hopkins, Mal Hallet, Tommy Dorsey.
They would play the tunes they were famous for but with a surprising difference -- the tunes would last for 5 to 8 minutes, not the 3-minute limit dictated by the 78-rpm record we were used to hearing. Also, hearing the thythm section was a treat as the state of hi-fi was years away. Anyone judging them from records is only hearing a very weak version of what they really sounded like, especially Chick Webb - a fantastic drummer who pushed the band much like Art Blakey.
Of all these fine "swing bands," the one that still stands out was the Jimmy Lunceford Band. They were not only exciting in their musicianship, but they put on a kind of gymnastics on stage ending with tossing their instruments into the air in rhythm to the music. Perhaps a bit hokey for today but very exciting then.
They would play the tunes they were famous for but with a surprising difference -- the tunes would last for 5 to 8 minutes, not the 3-minute limit dictated by the 78-rpm record we were used to hearing. Also, hearing the thythm section was a treat as the state of hi-fi was years away. Anyone judging them from records is only hearing a very weak version of what they really sounded like, especially Chick Webb - a fantastic drummer who pushed the band much like Art Blakey.
Of all these fine "swing bands," the one that still stands out was the Jimmy Lunceford Band. They were not only exciting in their musicianship, but they put on a kind of gymnastics on stage ending with tossing their instruments into the air in rhythm to the music. Perhaps a bit hokey for today but very exciting then.
#4:
In the 1930's, when jukeboxes played only one side of a 10" 78-rpm record, the other side stayed in mint condition. These records eventually ended up in used record stores at 10-cents each. This was a great bargain as new Decca, Bluebird, and Vocalion cost 38-cents; and Victor, Columbia, and Brunswick cost 75-cents. So, for 10-cents you got a playable "Body and Soul" by Hawk and a brand new "Fine Dinner" on the other side.
I discovered many fine musicians and small groups for 10-cents that I would not have risked 38- or 75-cents on; Louis Jordan, Sidney Bechet, Blind Boy Fuller, Pinetop Smith, Slim and Slam, Joe Marsala, The Delta Four, Mound City Blue Blowers. The big bands were well publicized and most had air time on radio.
Many of the better records were marked "Race" so that was something to look for as the stores didn't bother to group the records by category. There was a lot of miserable Hollywood cowboy stuff to wade thru to get an occasional gem but the results made it worth the time.
Some brands never reached the used record stores, especially Commodore and Blue Note. They not only never put out a bad record but they also, unfortunately, never made the jukebox scene. One could say, "The more things change, the more they stay the same."
I discovered many fine musicians and small groups for 10-cents that I would not have risked 38- or 75-cents on; Louis Jordan, Sidney Bechet, Blind Boy Fuller, Pinetop Smith, Slim and Slam, Joe Marsala, The Delta Four, Mound City Blue Blowers. The big bands were well publicized and most had air time on radio.
Many of the better records were marked "Race" so that was something to look for as the stores didn't bother to group the records by category. There was a lot of miserable Hollywood cowboy stuff to wade thru to get an occasional gem but the results made it worth the time.
Some brands never reached the used record stores, especially Commodore and Blue Note. They not only never put out a bad record but they also, unfortunately, never made the jukebox scene. One could say, "The more things change, the more they stay the same."
#5:
On the west side of New York City's Broadway, near 46th Street, was a small record store called the Whirling Disc. George, the salesman, was a walking jazz discography. He knew about the most obscure event or person in jazz.
This was in the 40's before LPs and cover designs. The 78-rpm records were in brown sleeves with a large hole in the middle so one could see the label and were in racks identified by the artist. If you wanted a record that was long out of print, like "Doggin' Around" by Basie, you would ask for it and George would stoop down behind the counter and come up with a record with no label. George would assure you that it was what you asked for. When you got home and played it, it was, and a good pressing. I never knew if it was from the original master or recut from a mint record. George would always say they were supplying a need that the recording companies were ignoring. Forty years later they still haven't learned much.
This was in the 40's before LPs and cover designs. The 78-rpm records were in brown sleeves with a large hole in the middle so one could see the label and were in racks identified by the artist. If you wanted a record that was long out of print, like "Doggin' Around" by Basie, you would ask for it and George would stoop down behind the counter and come up with a record with no label. George would assure you that it was what you asked for. When you got home and played it, it was, and a good pressing. I never knew if it was from the original master or recut from a mint record. George would always say they were supplying a need that the recording companies were ignoring. Forty years later they still haven't learned much.
#6:
The Cork 'n Bib was a small bar/cafe at the train station in Westbury, Long Island, 30 minutes from New York City. Charlie, the proprietor, being a former jazz musician, was able to get many fine musicians to play there on Friday and Saturday nights. During the 50's, we saw Billie Holiday, Calo Scott, Roy Eldridge, Mingus, Hawk, Lee Konitz, Art Blakey, Terry Gibbs, etc.
They also gave Sunday afternoon performances. We were there one Sunday with our 2 daughters, Sue 8 and Nancy 13. Sitting at a round table about 12-feet from the bandstand, we were all sipping lemonade. Sue had her back to the band so she was not prepared for Blakey's downbeat... KABLAM, BLAM, BLAMM!!! She swallowed her ice cube. She is now 40 but always faces the band when she goes to a jazz joint.
They also gave Sunday afternoon performances. We were there one Sunday with our 2 daughters, Sue 8 and Nancy 13. Sitting at a round table about 12-feet from the bandstand, we were all sipping lemonade. Sue had her back to the band so she was not prepared for Blakey's downbeat... KABLAM, BLAM, BLAMM!!! She swallowed her ice cube. She is now 40 but always faces the band when she goes to a jazz joint.
#7:
In New York City during the 60's, there were some fine, exciting jazz clubs: the Five Spot, Vanguard, Half Note, Village Gate, Cafe Bohemia, Eddie Condon's, and Slug's.
Slug's...in the Far East: To be exact, 242 East 3rd Street, a not too "safe" part of town then but once inside (the club) you felt safe. I remember one night, Rahsaan Kirk was playing and I was photographing from my table, large and round that anyone could sit at, much like the automat tables. I was a bit frustrated at a man directly across in line to the bandstand and partially blocking the camera view. I later found out he was Albert Ayler.
Half Note: I had an album cover to do called "Smokin' at the Half Note" with Wes Montgomery and Wynton Kelly. My daughter, Sue, and I went there at dusk. She was to lean against the outside wall blowing cigarette smoke and I would take the picture that would include the overhead Half Note sign, using a 24mm wide-angle lens. Sue did not really smoke and before long was becoming quite dizzy. A few rolls of film later, we were on our way home. The shot that I ended up using was a straight shot of just the neon sign.
C'est la vie!
Slug's...in the Far East: To be exact, 242 East 3rd Street, a not too "safe" part of town then but once inside (the club) you felt safe. I remember one night, Rahsaan Kirk was playing and I was photographing from my table, large and round that anyone could sit at, much like the automat tables. I was a bit frustrated at a man directly across in line to the bandstand and partially blocking the camera view. I later found out he was Albert Ayler.
Half Note: I had an album cover to do called "Smokin' at the Half Note" with Wes Montgomery and Wynton Kelly. My daughter, Sue, and I went there at dusk. She was to lean against the outside wall blowing cigarette smoke and I would take the picture that would include the overhead Half Note sign, using a 24mm wide-angle lens. Sue did not really smoke and before long was becoming quite dizzy. A few rolls of film later, we were on our way home. The shot that I ended up using was a straight shot of just the neon sign.
C'est la vie!
