We have spent several weeks putting together five packed posts featuring hundreds of photographs Maynard Frank Wolfe took during the rehearsal of the fourth Timex All-Star Jazz Show in January 1959 (you can now access all the posts in this series HERE). With the rehearsals out of the way, it is time to actually share audio and video of the final, live show!
We’ll begin with the audio as, after the broadcast aired, a copy of the audio was sent to Louis Armstrong, who immediately dubbed it to reel-to-reel tape. Here’s the audio from Armstrong’s tape:
LAHM 1987.3.63
Armstrong’s copy is in very good quality, if not exactly pristine, but that’s probably Louis’s fault as he tended to dub audio at 3 3/4 speed, resulting in a diminishment of the original quality. The audio of the broadcast was recorded at a higher quality and was issued on LP on the Sounds Great label in 1987. Collector Shawn Martin (known as “The Crippled Drummer”) has uploaded the tracks to his YouTube channel; here’s Louis and Dizzy’s “Umbrella Man” moment in beautiful sound:
What about video? Even though videotape was in existence, the four Timex All-Star Jazz Show only survives as a grainy kinescope–and even that kinescope survives in varying degrees of quality. The most complete copy was donated to our Archives by jazz historian Franz Hoffman and though it’s not exactly high definition, it definitely is watchable and the sound is good. However, three performances came out on a DVD several years back in sharper quality; thus, we have made an edit using Franz Hoffman’s copy as a basis and swapping in the three DVD performances to provide the most complete version we’re able to share (neither the video nor Armstrong’s audio included the original Timex commercials, hence the 48-minute running time):
A few notes as you watch along:
- John Cameron Swayze kicks off the broadcast from outside Studio 50 on Broadway. Once inside, we hear the voice of Jackie Gleason reading George T. Simon’s script about it being a “Golden Age of Jazz” and our eyes corroborate what we’re hearing as the entire cast is shown on stage, just chatting and existing while Duke Ellington plays “Satin Doll.” This could have been the whole hour and I’d be happy!
- Gleason is finally shown at 1:25, though he’s washed out in the print we have. He introduces himself as “a guy who’s just nuts about jazz.” Ellington segues into “Take the A Train” getting in a half chorus before Gleason formally introduces him.
- At 1:55, the Duke takes over with a rollicking “Rockin’ in Rhythm.” Solos are by Harry Carney (on clarinet), Quentin “Butter” Jackson, and Cat Anderson, the latter just getting warmed up with the high notes that are to become a theme of the program. A great start!
- The camera pans back at 4:29 to show Louis Armstrong sitting next to Gleason, digging the end of “Rockin’ in Rhythm.” Gleason shows off Esquire’s January 1959 “Golden Age of Jazz” issue and Art Kane’s photo of him inside, prompting Armstrong to joke that he’s “Esquire’s answer to the Playmate of the Month!” Ellington starts quietly playing “Just Squeeze Me” in the background as Gleason explains that Timex was going to utilizing some intimate, close-up shots; he doesn’t offer any more details but resulting newspaper coverage did applaud the show’s use of “vest” cameras. Having two great ad libbers like Gleason and Armstrong sticking to cue cards seems like a missed opportunity, though Armstrong seems to want to break free with his, “I’ll get you, Mr. G!”
- This sets up Armstrong and Gleason’s duet on “Now You Has Jazz,” which begins at 5:50. Armstrong sings lead and introduces the members of the All Stars but I personally get a kick out of Gleason’s spontaneous responses (“Is that who that is?” upon Armstrong introducing Peanuts Hucko always makes me laugh). The introduction of Danny Barcelona gets Armstrong out of his chair and over to the band. After a quick swig of water to prevent any dry chops, the All Stars fly into “Tiger Rag” at 7:51, with Armstrong and Trummy Young indulging in some comic “arguing” at one another–but there’s nothing funny about Armstrong’s high notes, which are as serious as your life! This must have been important to Pops as his chops were not at 100% during the previous Timex show and some critics called him out on it.
- A Timex commercial originally aired after Armstrong returned to his spot next to Gleason, but for our purposes, at 10:00, the Dukes of Dixieland take over with “Slide, Frog, Slide,” a feature for trombonist Freddie Assunto. They might seem like outliers to modern audiences but their late 1950s records were tremendous sellers and they had already appeared on a previous All-Star Jazz Show. One minute later, Armstrong and Gleason launch into a discussion about the history of tailgate trombonists in New Orleans, which leads to a humorous faux pas by Louis as he points to Freddie Assunto and says, “That boy over there….Duke? Is it Duke? He played it real good!” Louis might not have known his name, but that would change after he’d make the first of two studio recordings with the Dukes later that year.
- As the subject turns to New Orleans funerals, the Dukes begin to play a quiet version of “Just a Closer Walk With Thee” in the background, though perhaps it was still a little too loud, as it drowns out one of my favorite exchanges, with Gleason saying, “You know, the way they’re playing it, it must have been a pleasure to die,” and Armstrong responding, “Well, I mean, I died once myself–almost!” Gleason’s line was in George T. Simon’s script but Armstrong’s wasn’t! (He was supposed to say, “Well, we musicians had ourselves a ball anyway!”)
- Armstrong can be quickly glimpsed walking past a camera, leading one to think he might have been heading over to join the Dukes, but instead, he lets them have their moment, with trumpeter Frank Assunto really deep in his Armstrong bag towards the end of the performance.
- At 13:27, Gleason tells us, “That’s what they call that real jive,” perhaps not Simon’s finest moment (though it doesn’t appear in the first draft of the script). Gleason then begins to introduce Dizzy Gillespie, unfortunately mangling his name with a “Jillespie” pronunciation. It also appears Gleason might have originally missed his mark as Gillespie can be seen in the background already counting off his band in time, leading Gleason to wander back to the left.
- Finally, at 13:51, Gillespie’s quintet launches into their arrangement of “St. Louis Blues,” complete with handclaps and, at one point, some dance steps by the leader. Gillespie and this same exact personnel would immortalize this take on W. C. Handy’s classic the following month, recording it on February 17, 1959 for the Verve album Have Trumpet, Will Excite. Gillespie gets nearly four full minutes to himself and really makes the most of it, even scatting and dancing a bit towards the end.
- But at 17:37 comes the moment we’ve all been waiting for: “Umbrella Man.” Two nights earlier, Louis Armstrong had never played “Umbrella Man” and according to eyewitness Dan Morgenstern, he didn’t even know the tune as it a Gillespie specialty. But after a couple of days rehearsing, Armstrong took to it, sounding quite comfortable and as if he had been playing it for years. There’s really not a lot to say about this clash of the titans that hasn’t been said before but for me, I love that Dizzy plays like Dizzy and Louis plays like Louis. Neither man cedes any ground and they each play in their individualistic, instantly identifiable styles–styles that went on to change the sound of jazz. But then there’s the vocal duet, showcasing their natural comedic sensibilities. I’m still not sure if it was spontaneous or worked out in rehearsal but Dizzy apparently pops a “p” on the word “parasol,” spritzing Armstrong in the process and leading Pops to respond, “Your parasol is juicy, boy!” The wave of laughter that follows has the sound of surprise to it, so it’s very possible it was an in-the-moment ad lib. Diz responds with a perfectly timed swipe of his mouth with the sleeve of his jacket, which is only topped by Armstrong getting in a primetime network TV plug for Swiss Kriss! These types of things don’t always live up to the hype, but it’s safe to say that “Umbrella Man” exceeds it.
- At 20:40, Gleason, Armstrong, and Gillespie go into their scripted routine, which we’ve seen about two dozens photos of them rehearsing for. Gleason gets in a Kramdenesque “to the moon” and Diz’s timing of his comedic monologue is impeccable. We’re almost halfway into the show and I think it’s been pretty sensational, myself….
- ….but then at 21:21, Gleason begins to introduce the much publicized Ruth Olay. I’m of the “If you don’t have something nice to say, don’t say anything at all” school of thought, but her vocal on “I Let a Song Go Out of My Heart” is pretty rough. I guess it’s hard to reconcile the choice of Olay with the fact that in January 1959, Billie Holiday was still alive, Ella Fitzgerald was thriving, not to mention Peggy Lee, Dinah Washington, Sarah Vaughan, you name it. This was quite a spot for Olay to land (with the help of Joe Glaser and Oscar Cohen) and I’m not sure how much it did for her; critics were much more brutal than I (more on that later).
- Gleason strolls back on at 23:45 and gets in a nice ad-libbed response to Duke’s “truly formidable” French pronunciation. Ellington proceeds to call on the band’s “two senior Senators”; “Well, let’s get out the varsity team,” Gleason shouts, with patented hand gestures, definitely loosening up as the show goes on. Harry Carney’s baritone (and circular breathing) is up first on “Sophisticated Lady” at 24:24, while Johnny Hodges follows on an earthy version of “Things Ain’t What They Used to Be” at 26:07. Top shelf stuff by the Duke!
- At 28:14, it’s back to Gleason and Armstrong, with Louis hesitating a bit in his reading of the cue card as he seems to be waiting for Gene Krupa to start playing. Once he hears Krupa’s beat, he relaxes and radiates nothing but warmth for the drummer. Krupa tells Armstrong that “it’s worth the trouble and the time coming in from Chicago” to be there; remember, in part one of this series, we surmised that Krupa missed the first scheduled rehearsal because he was in Chicago. The conversation between Krupa and Armstrong is beautifully unscripted as Armstrong lets us know that Barbara Dane is going to “chirp one” and then he gets a plug in for his pal Bobby Hackett, mentioning he was going to catch a train down to Miami to make his gig at the Miami Spring Villas; I looked into it and Hackett did open at that venue, but on January 15, eight days later. Thus, it wasn’t a real rush, Pops just wanted to plug his friend’s gig (though he calls it “Miami Villas Springs”–close enough). What a guy.
- Finally, at 29:23, Krupa kicks off a performance that had really gone through some different permutations in the previous days–and hours. In the original script, Hackett was to get a showcase of his own early in the show, and Krupa and Armstrong would team up for a separate feature later on. Then after Armstrong introduced “Now You Has Jazz” at the first rehearsal, the decision was made to combine Krupa and Hackett’s appearances into one number. Armstrong favorite “Ole Miss” was chosen and numerous Maynard Frank Wolfe photos survive from the rehearsals of the cats most likely swinging it like mad. But now we’d like to call your attention to the YouTube interview with Barbara Dane that we shared in our previous post. In it, she mentions getting this major opportunity but had difficulties making it to New York, finally arriving on show day. George T. Simon gulped when he saw her but Louis made it clear that he still wanted her to sing so Simon acquiesced–telling Dane she would have exactly 60 seconds on the show. Though most comfortable with the blues, Dane had recently sung “Old Fashioned Love” on Bobby Troup’s Stars of Jazz television show and knew that one chorus would take one minute. A decision was made to rehearse it….as a medley with “Ole Miss”….at the speedy “Ole Miss” tempo. As Dane explained, Armstrong knew the tempo wasn’t right and promised to rectify it. The solution was to kick off “Ole Miss” at a loping, medium tempo, which can sound a bit jarring at first when you’re used to hearing it as an All Stars romp. Still, it’s always a kick hearing Hackett play second trumpet and after one chorus of “Ole Miss,” Dane comes in with her interpolation of “Old Fashioned Love,” getting a tasty Hackett obligato for good measure. Krupa then doubles the tempo and we’re finally back in All Stars territory for “Ole Miss,” though the generous Armstrong lets Hackett take two dynamite choruses, Krupa really booting him along. The camera, however, catches Krupa’s ride cymbal go slightly awry, a sign of things to come. Krupa follows Hackett with three exciting choruses with some nifty snare work, though he mostly lays off the ride. Armstrong, Hackett, and the All Stars come charging in for the rideout choruses, which are exciting as can be, but when the camera goes back to Krupa, his ride cymbal is now completely vertical! (Credit to the quick-thinking director, Dave Geisel, who calls for a close-up of the cymbal.) Krupa makes the most of it in his final drum break, even stabbing the cymbal like a sword for good measure, as Pops climbs up to a sky high concert Eb–wow! A lot went into that performance, which could have gone off the rails, but I think it’s another highlight of the show.
- A Timex commercial originally aired next so we pick it up at 32:55 as a close-up of Sam Jones’s bass and the sound of Joe Saye’s piano and Les Spann’s flute, creating a mysterious mood–temporarily broken by the sing-song scat singing of Ralph Kramden, I mean, Jackie Gleason. This is all done to usher in the next guest, vocalist Dakota Staton, who performs an effective rendition of “The Thrill is Gone” backed by her regular pianist, Saye, and three members of Gillespie’s quintet, Spann, Jones, and drummer Lex Humphries.
- At 36:23, Gleason walks Staton over to the other side of the stage and sets up a meeting with George Shearing’s band; they had collaborated on a Capitol recording, In the Night, the previous year so this was a natural pairing. They swing out on a number featured on that album, “I Hear Music,” before Staton requests Shearing play that “cha-cha” he was rehearsing. Shearing responds at 38:15 with his arrangement of “It’s Easy to Remember”; once again, in addition to the leader’s piano, the members of Shearing’s group were Warren Chiasson, vibraphone; Toots Thielemans, guitar; Carl Pruitt, acoustic double bass; Ray Mosca, drums; Armando Peraza, congas. Gleason remains present for the performance, smiling gently and smoking his cigarette, but resisting the urge to break into any Reginald Van Gleason-inspired dance moves.
- The final Timex commercial followed–apparently with Shearing’s group providing backing for John Cameron Swayze–before it was thrown back to Gleason at the 40:28 mark. With only about 8 minutes left in the show, it was time to bring on the All Star group made up of Coleman Hawkins, Dizzy Gillespie, Roy Eldridge, Vic Dickenson, Marty Napoleon, Milt Hinton, and Jo Jones, which would lead to the concluding jam session, with Gleason promising “the bust out of all times”…perhaps he should have left out the word “out.” Anyway, “Body and Soul” was an apt choice, but with the clock ticking, there was no time for Hawkins’s famous ballad interpretation. Instead, Jo Jones kicks it off at an uptempo and Hawkins takes charge in long meter, getting quiet backing from the other horns. Roy Eldridge takes off on the bridge, splitting it with Gillespie. Roy and Diz loved each other but Dizzy always brought out Roy’s competitive side (which wasn’t hard, especially with Louis Armstrong standing offcamera). After the bridge, Roy comes back with one of his electrifying high notes, which Diz builds off of beautifully, the two men exchanging fire until the end of the chorus. Jo Jones then takes a short drum solo and pianist Marty Napoleon sets a riff, which sets up a vocal duet between Dakota Staton…and Ruth Olay. Olay sticks to singing the lyrics, while Staton scats circles around her, while the impatient horns noodle in the background. This takes up a full chorus, which could have been put to better use in almost any other way. Another drum break by Jones leads to Dickenson finally getting the bridge to himself before the tempo finally settles into ballad mode. Alas, in a bit of foreshadowing, the last eight bars are rather messy. Hawkins clearly wants the lead but the other horns won’t give it away easily and kind of step on each other in the background instead of teaming up for some nice harmonies or organ pads. It’s a gas seeing this dream band on this venerable standard, but it sure could have used a bit more rehearsal (and a bit less singing).
- But that’s nothing compared to what follows: the final jam session on “Perdido.” I’ve been writing about it in foreboding terms this entire series and now you can judge it for yourself–the carnage, I mean, the music begins with a Jo Jones drum break at 43:47. By my clock–and more importantly, the CBS live television clock– only 4 minutes and 30 seconds remained of airtime. George T. Simon and the crew must have exhaled; they made it to the finish line and still had 4 1/2 minutes for Louis Armstrong, Dizzy Gillespie, Roy Eldridge, Bobby Hackett, Coleman Hawkins, Vic Dickenson, Milt Hinton, Marty Napoleon, Jo Jones, Gene Krupa, the Dukes of Dixieland, and the entire Duke Ellington Orchestra to jam on something simple like “Perdido.” Magic time!
- Alas, what followed was the exact opposite of “magic,” though it’s quite impressive if you watch it with the sound off. I’ve never tried analyzing it before but I guess there’s a first time for everything. At 43:47, the exact group that just played “Body and Soul” begins “Perdido” but in a ragged, almost New Orleans-ish polyphonic style. When one listens to an authentic traditional jazz ensemble, as played in this broadcast by Armstrong’s All Stars or the Dukes of Dixieland, the way the trumpet, trombone, and clarinet seamlessly blend makes it sound so easy that some listeners might assume it was easy. But hearing messy ensembles, even featuring geniuses like Roy and Diz, just provides evidence for how difficult it really is to play in that style. In this case, the culprits are the trumpeters; Hawkins provides rock solid melody and Dickenson, though under-recorded, was a masterful ensemble plyer. But Eldridge and Gillespie continue nudging each other, to the point where Vic appears to walk away from the noise and even Dizzy turns his back to Roy and stops playing before the chorus is over.
- Okay, not a great start but at 44:28, matters calm down as the Ellington band takes over, featuring Paul Gonsalves’s tenor. As photographed in the rehearsals, Gonsalves was always going to be featured, though his star-making “Diminuendo and Crescendo in Blue” was taken away. Gonsalves wails over trombone riffs, the trombones glancing at sheet music placed at their feet. The camera soon reveals that Gene Krupa has joined in as a second drummer to Ellington’s Gus Johnson, while Hawkins, Dickenson, Eldridge, and Gillespie have made their way over to this part of the set.
- The third chorus opens at 44:59 with a blast of Ellingtonian brass, led by Cat Anderson, who clearly heard Roy Eldridge’s dog whistle and wanted to demonstrate that he could do that, too. As the horns riff, Cat screeches and the whole thing feels like it might be building up to a climax–only thing is there’s three full minutes left in the broadcast! Fortunately, at 45:17, we hear the melodic playing and golden tone of none other than Louis Armstrong, who takes a killer bridge. The horns go back to riffing, but this time with responses by Armstrong, an excellent moment as Pops’s tone cuts through the din.
- Armstrong continues in the lead as the fourth chorus begins at 45:30, as he’s firmly in the upper register, but playing the most relaxed melody imaginable in the middle of such chaos. Though Armstrong is technically in the spotlight, that doesn’t stop Eldridge and Anderson from playing their highest notes in the background, indulging in a game of “I can play higher than you” that nobody asked for. The clatter continues through the bridge, as Armstrong seems momentarily defeated by it, but he storms back for the final eight. The camera captures Ellington comping furiously until Duke catches himself in the monitor and smiles to assure everyone that it’s going to be all right.
- A fifth chorus of “Perdido” kicks of at 46:04, with the cameras letting us know that Jo Jones and Milt Hinton have been energetically wailing away the entire time, while Bobby Hackett has also magically appeared behind Louis. The Ellington band is holding it together with arranged riffs and even some wild shouts from the trombones in the bridge, but the whole thing is obscured by the trumpet high notes.
- Chorus six commences at 46:37 with Louis attempting to take control–if you really listen, his tone still cuts through–but he’s generally crushed by the avalanche of riffs happening in the background. The audience offers some tentative applause, perhaps sensing an end to the carnage as Dizzy Gillespie is the first to bail at 46:50, but somehow, a Jo Jones drum fill seems to clear the path for another Herculean Armstrong bridge. But even Louis just smiles and stops playing at its conclusion for a few seconds, perhaps hoping the end was near….
- ….but instead, a seventh chorus begins at 47:12 with one of the trumpets starting a new riff. At 47:15, the camera catches Armstrong gesturing, almost angrily, perhaps in Elllington’s direction? The camera cuts instead to Jackie Gleason, there to deliver the show’s final words. But for once, “The Great One” is speechless; he starts to say something and instead smiles and does a little shiver, as if a chill ran up his spine or experienced an invasive medical procedure of some sort. That’s all Gleason could muster so the camera goes back to the music, where they’re still working over that riff. At 47:27, though, there’s a sign of hope: the credits start to roll! Ellington is indeed now up and directing traffic so perhaps that’s what Armstrong was asking him to do seconds earlier. Armstrong gets off yet another powerful bridge but then it’s more cacophony; Dizzy is stomping his entire leg, trying to feel the time, though he’s standing directly in the middle of three action-packed drummers.
- At 47:44, an eighth–and final!–chorus begins with Ellington snapping his fingers, doing his best to look pleased. I have to give his men credit as they never really do stop laying down a series of exciting, arranged riffs; it’s really Cat Anderson, Roy Eldridge, and Dizzy (to an extent) who I identify as the main culprits for playing as if they were trying to break CBS’s lease at Studio 50. Dizzy is now playing again, but starts tilting his neck and holding his trumpet sky high for a few seconds, before throwing in the towel again. He just smiles and starts snapping his fingers in time. The trumpets take the last bridge off as the trombones continue riffing and clarinetist Jimmy Hamilton sees a spot to take off. Everyone charges back for the final eight bars, but mercifully, the clock struck 9 and the Timex All-Star Jazz Show went off the air. Somehow, CBS retained its broadcasting license and an episode of The Millionaire came on at 9 p.m., though I’m sure some viewers at home had echoes of “Perdido” ringing in their ears.
Okay, I admittedly wrote a lot of that in tongue-in-cheek fashion, but the critics of the time were not so friendly. First out of the gate was William Ewald, whose syndicated United Press International column appeared in hundreds of newspapers over the next few days. “The aim is to provide a spectacle, a circus of sound and faces, an unconscious burlesque, if you will, of jazz complete with words like ‘dig,’ ‘man’ and ‘blowing up a storm.'” Ewald thought Armstrong Gillespie tried “gamely, but awkwardly to mesh their styles” and even felt Ellington was disappointing. Here’s his complete review:
However, over in the Black press, Pittsburgh Courier writer Harold L. Keith loved the show. Keith does reserve some criticism for the end and lists artists he wishes would appear on a future show but overall, it’s a glowing review–perhaps too glowing? I hate to indulge in conspiracy theories, but it must be pointed out that Joe Glaser was behind the show and he had a very good relationship with the Black press; then again, that didn’t always help when it came to coverage of Armstrong. Anyway, here’s Keith’s article from the January 19 issue:
Write In, Folks, for More of the Same
Timex Jazz Show the Swingingest!
“Right About Face” would have been an apt title for the tremendous jazz show which Timex so graciously presented over CBS-TV last week. The terrific presentation, which was put on with Jackie Gleson as emcee, was in marked contrast to the first Timex program, which “died” as Hoagy Carmichael officiated at the piano.
Never in the history of U.S. TV has there been such a show. From the opening moments when the Duke Ellington band, keyed by the screaming trumpet of Cat Anderson, swung on the opening tune the program moved or to a cacophonic climax.
To summarize, the “gasser” there was Louis Armstrong’s combo with Peanuts Hucko on clarinet and Trummy Young on ‘bone playing “Hold That Tiger.” And then Dizzy Gillespie cut loose on the “St. Louis Blues” after which he hooked up in a duel with Louis, both instrumental and vocal, on the “Umbrella Man.”
Ruth Olay, who slightly fluffed in her intro, recovered enough to sing a lusty “I Let a Song Go Out of My Heart” with Duke Ellington’s band behind her. And then, two gents whom Duke described as his “senior senators,” namely, Messrs. Harry Carney of the baritone sax and John Hodges of the alto, pulled out respective solos on “Sophisticated Lady” and “Things Ain’t What They Used to Be.”
Dakota Staton, who stood head and shoulders above the other femmes in the show, sang in a manner which was the antithesis of her selection, “The Thrill Is Gone.” She chipped in with “I Hear Music” backed by the George Shearing Quintet which incidentally improvised on the Timex Commercial with John Cameron Swayze in such a swinging manner the crowd had to applaud.
All of this, plus the Dixielanders, set the stage for the entrance of the “grey Bean,” Coleman Hawkins accompanied by Dizzy, Milt Hinton. Joe Jones, Little Jazz Roy Eldridge, and Vic Dickenson, who were later joined by Olay and Dakota on *Perdido” with Duke’s band taking the whole thing “out.”
THERE WERE quite few high spots, and no low ones on the show. Jackie Gleason, a supremely confident, suave, sometimes blase emcee, proved a willing straight man for the quip of the night when he and “Pops” Armstrong engaged in repartee. Jackie had spoken of the funeral music of the old New Orleans jazz bands remarking: “It must have been a pleasure there to die.”
Laughed “Pops”: “You know I died there once myself–almost.”
Another item of Interest to musicians occurred when the mischievous Roy Eldridge, busily gaged in swapping fours with Diz, left Diz challengingly hanging on high C, but Diz was there with as equally ringing a note to prove that be could blow with anybody, “Pops” included.
At the conclusion of the giant thing, Gleason announced that Timex wants to present the best in jazz and urged all of the friends of jazz to write in about whom they would like urged all of to write about would like to hear on the Timex program.
Where, oh where are the fans of such folks as Max Roach, Thelonious Monk, Art Blakey, Cannonball Adderley, Art Farmer, Dinah Washington, Miles Davis, The Modern Jazz Quintet, and James Moody? Not to mention Billy Taylor, Oscar Peterson, Horace Silver, ErrollGarner, and others.
If you want to hear them on the next Timex show, write in to CBS and Jackie Gleason and make your preferences known.–HLK
Ewald was a television columnist and Keith handled the Courier’s general entertainment duties. Eventually, jazz writers began weighing in–and it wasn’t pretty. Future author Tom Scanlan was then contributing a “Jazz Music” column in Army Times. Here’s his January 24, 1959 column, “Free Advice for Timex”:
“Whether you know it or not,” said Jackie Gleason, bubbling over with enthusiasm during the most recent Timex All-Star Jazz Show on TV, “you are living in the golden age of jazz!”
Some golden age. If this were really the golden age of jazz, Ruby Braff (who worked only a tiny handful of club dates throughout 1958) and other expert jazz musicians such as Roy Eldridge and Teddy Wilson and Ben: Webster and Vic: Dickenson and Bud Freeman would have more “gigs” and more record dates than they could handle, their records would be best-sellers, the likes of Thelonious Monk could never win any kind of jazz poll, and Jack Teagarden would be a millionaire.
Surely, if George T. Simon, the Timex jazz show’s writer, is responsible for that line about the “golden age,” he is living in a dream world.
As for the show itself, it was what all previous Timex jazz hours have been: noisy, confused, crowded with too many performers, and disappointing.
Dizzy Gillespie’s group played some swinging music and the ensuing duet by Diz and Louis Armstrong was memorable, but far more typical of the program was the way in which three of the greatest musicians in jazz, Coleman Hawkins, Roy Eldridge and Vic
Dickenson, were rushed on at the end to participate in what was introduced as a “jam session” but which quickly developed into almost interminable noise.
Roy, incidentally, played all of 32 bars. Too bad talent like Eldridge can’t get half the time allotted to some of those “pop” singers that Timex persists in hiring for its jazz shows.
During the program, Gleason invited viewers to write to Timex and explain what and who they’d like to see on the next Timex jazz show. This viewer is not without a number of suggestions for Timex and here is one on the top of my list:
Jazz is under no compulsion to be sensational; for example, Timex, it is possible to present an hour of jazz on TV without featuring even a single loud drum solo. Honest.”
*********
By February 1959, the jazz periodicals all took turns weighing in on the Timex show. First up, a two-page editorial by Bill Coss in Metronome Music U.S.A., with the Timex discussion beginning in the third column of the first page:
Down Beat devoted two articles to the Timex show in its February 19, 1959 issue. Because Jackie Gleason asked for letters, columnist Will Jones responded with a pretty scathing screed, blasting Timex for “turning some of the most-respected persons in jazz into a bunch of blathering Uncle Toms. And when I saw Uncle Toms, I don’t mean to draw any color lines. You’ve created some white Uncle Toms, Timex–bouncing, howling, finger-snapping caricatures of jazz performers, conned somehow into appearing not as themselves but as a misguided ad man’s version of what the great watch-buying unwashed think jazz performers ought to be.” Here’s Jones’s full letter:
In the same issue, Don Gold got in some shots of his own, knocking Gleason for his “Jillespie” pronunciation and calling the “Perdido” finale “indescribably offensive.” Here’s Gold:
One month later, the esteemed Nat Hentoff sounded off in the March 1959 issue of Metronome Music U.S.A. Hentoff blasted Timex but was in an interesting position as he helped mastermind the 1957 Sound of Jazz broadcast and could (rightly) hold that up as a gold standard. Hentoff took shots at every aspect of the show, including the Armstrong-Gillespie “Umbrella Man” and anonymously quoted an artist who was clearly Roy Eldridge: “It seems like no one got a chance to really be heard unless he was with the Glaser office. My part was cut and cut and cut until I had only eight bars. I’m not with Glaser.” Hentoff concludes by quoting Miles Davis’s take on the show: “It looked like a Christmas tree on a planation.” Here’s Hentoff in full:
But we’ll conclude with the late, much missed Dan Morgenstern, living in New York and describing the scene in his column for the British magazine, Jazz Journal:
ON THE SCREEN: The fourth Timex Jazz Show, currently being dissected by the critics, had Louis, Duke, Dizzy, Shearing, Roy, Hawk, Vic Dickenson, Jo Jones, Krupa, Hackett and singers Dakota Staton, Barbara Dane and Ruth Olay. Oh, and we almost forgot the Dukes of Dixieland. Too much for one hour; Roy, Hawk, Vic and Jo especially were shortchanged. The finale was bedlam, everybody blowing on “Perdido”: Louis, Roy, Cat Anderson and Hawk the only distinguishable sounds emerging from the chaos. But there was a duet between Louis and Dizzy, on “The Umbrella Man” which was worth the
whole show, especially the two choruses of trumpet-interplay; a good muted “St. Louis Blues” by Diz; “Rockin’ in Rhythm” as a rousing opener by Duke, and later “Sophisticated Lady” by Carney and “Things Ain’t What They Used To Be” by Hodges.
The variety-show approach to jazz that TV is favouring has its obvious limitations. But it seems to draw, and perhaps the people who tune in to hear Shearing or Staton are a little intrigued and surprised by Louis and Duke. It seems a waste of talent, but to call it “a disgrace” as one noted critic did, is to miss the point. These shows are designed for mass appeal, not for the literate jazz audience. They sell watches, and they cost money. They buy jazz “acts’—would the critic prefer trained seals? If it is contended that these shows “hurt” the “dignity” of the music, we would counter that jazz has withstood all kinds of environments and all manner of presentation, some much worse than commercial TV. It has managed to survive. And if something has inherent validity, it ain’t so easily robbed of its a. But we know what the real issue Some people want jazz to be a virgin, and when she is dressed up for sale they cry “prostitution”. In reality, jazz is a gal who’s been around, perhaps more than the critics. And she has learned how to be all things to all men, while remaining herself withall. The marriage of jazz and TV is a natural, but the marriage of jazz and intellectual ivory-towerism is not, and never will be. The intellectual’s just don’t have the money to keep her interested. and who can live on words? Another Timex show is coming up in April; March will have a second “Swing into Spring” for which Ella has been inked. Miss Fitzgerald and Duke appeared on the “Telephone Hour” in February. Jonah Jones was on Garry Moore, and, as a filmed repeat, on Fred Astaire. Steve Allen had Condon with Pee Wee and Rex et. al., Woody Herman and band, and the Mulligan foursome. It’s here to stay boys, you might as well learn to live with it.
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Morgenstern mentions “Another Timex show is coming up in April,” but alas, it was not to be. Timex, perhaps after reading these assessments, decided to get out of the jazz business and instead began sponsoring a series of Frank Sinatra specials later that year. It is quite ironic that 1959 is still held up to be the golden year in jazz history but those living through it seemed extremely grumpy about the scene and especially how it was presented on television.
Our work here is through–but there has been a request to do a similar series featuring Maynard Frank Wolfe’s photos from the April 30, 1958, second Timex All-Star Jazz Show so we might be back in this world sooner rather than later. But please, leave a comment with your feelings: was the 1959 Timex show a disgrace? Or a masterpiece? A bit of both? Let us know–and thanks for reading!