Second Timex All-Star Jazz Show Celebration: The Final Broadcast

We’ve finally reached showtime, the live broadcast of the second Timex All-Star Jazz Show on April 30, 1958. If you’d like to catch up on how we got here, here are links to Part 1, Part 2, and Part 3 of this series, each one jam-packed with previously unpublished photos by Maynard Frank Wolfe.

Before we get to the video, we do have a few more Wolfe photos from the night of the broadcast. Someone had the idea to dress Armstrong in full ambassador’s clothing, playing up the “Ambassador Satch” angle, so Wolfe took some photos of Armstrong with the driving force behind the Timex shows, Joe Glaser’s right-hand-man (and eventual successor at Associated Booking Corporation), Oscar Cohen:

Then it was time to whisk Armstrong off to CBS’s Studio 52, where he would appear as the guest on the lead-in to the Timex show, I’ve Got a Secret, hosted by….Garry Moore, the man who would be at the helm of the jazz show. The idea was to have Armstrong as the final guest and lead a parade down West 53rd Street featuring Moore and the Dukes of Dixieland, arriving at CBS’s Studio 50 just in time for the 10 p.m. start. Wolfe headed out to the street as Armstrong walked over to Studio 50, flanked by Cohen and longtime valet, Doc Pugh, caught mid-smoke:

Someone must have called out to Louis from the street, inspiring a little mugging in response:

Like the later show from January 1959 that we’ve already covered, Wolfe seems to have stopped shooting once the show was on the air. Vocalist Jaye P. Morgan was missing from our previous post on the stage rehearsals, but she’s in these shots, with Lionel Hampton, Gene Krupa, and Chubby Jackson, that do look like the might have been taken during the broadcast:

The same goes for this photo of Krupa with Lionel Hampton’s Orchestra, everyone looking as they appeared on the final show:

That concludes all of the Wolfe photos we have, which means it’s time to get the video of the broadcast! For the actual video, we have longtime reader (and all star drummer) Bernard Flegar to thank as Bernard uploaded the complete show to his YouTube channel (which features all sorts of goodies) four years ago.

Originally, this post was supposed to go live last week as we planned to simply share Bernard’s YouTube link–but then we realized that we had access to the audio of the complete show in very good sound. Could the sound be sync’d up to the video? Well, I don’t want to reveal how long it took to do so (the audio and video ran rat different speeds and had to be continually) adjusted, but the answer is yes. But then I remembered that we had an MP4 file of some of Louis’s performances with a sharper visual, though still in the wrong key–well, we swapped those into Bernard’s video as well.

The result is a mutt in four parts that took a few days to construct but I do believe it was worth the effort to hear the broadcast in such strong fidelity. Thus, without further ado, here’s Part 1!

Here are some notes!

• The aforementioned I’ve Got a Secret with Armstrong as the special guest is not on YouTube so we pick up with the parade about to start down West 53rd Street, with Moore in front and the Dukes of Dixieland (Frank Assunto (tp), Freddie Assunto (tb), Jac Assunto (tb), Jack Maheu (cl), Stanley Mendelson (p), Lowell Miller (b), Norman “Red” Hawley (dr)) playing a spirited “South Rampart Street Parade.” I like that the show the Timex special displaced was “Armstrong Circle Theater,” which could have been alternate name for the Timex show!
• About a minute in, we hear the “ticking” sound of drumsticks on snare rims, played in sync by Gene Krupa and Cozy Cole. This sets up the introductory portion of the program as the announcer names the principals and lets them blow a quick phrase, as Krupa and Cole switch from “ticking” to “swinging” and back again. It’s a bit disjointed–everyone seems a bit unsure as to when to come in and how long to play–but it mostly comes off as a fun way to kick off the proceedings.
• At 2:26, Lionel Hampton gets the coveted final introduction and launches into a turbo-charged blues that seems to borrow the structure of his venerable showpiece “Hamp’s Boogie Woogie.” Hamp eventually switches to playing a tom tom and the band shifts to “Flying Home” changes, climaxing with Hamp dancing on top of his drum! It would be a fun way to close the show, but we’re only 4 minutes in!
• Hampton then sings a cute jingle introducing Moore, the band plays a bit more of “Flying Home” and Hamp and Moore unleash some dance steps, probably the moves that broke everyone up in the rehearsal photos we shared in Part 2 of this series.
• Moore goes into his opening monologue, backed by a jazz trio (apparently Buddy Weed on piano) and the unique, and slightly annoying, sound of Randy Hall on tin whistle.
• At 5:45, Louis Armstrong comes out for what might possibly be my personal, all-time favorite footage of the All Stars on television in the 1950s (or really, ever). After a brief instrumental “When It’s Sleepy Time Down South,” the group launches into a turbo-charged “Muskrat Ramble,” boiling down what was usually a six-minute arrangement in live shows to about 2 minutes and 20 seconds. Clarinetist Edmond Hall is on fire and trombonist Trummy Young gets in his patented “Down by the Riverside” quote. The rhythm section really digs in, too; props to pianist Billy Kyle, and the two new men in the band, bassist Mort Herbert and drummer Danny Barcelona, neither of whom were on the first Timex show four months earlier. But it’s Louis who is the star, in peak 1950s form, no chops issues to report whatsoever. He quickly ditches the ambassador clothes and really gets down to business in the last choruses, his eyes rolling back in his head as he gathers steam. To put an exclamation point on matters, he closes with a stratospheric high Eb, which he only did when he was feeling extra good.
• It might seem like nothing could top that, but no, another glorious moment follows with “On the Sunny Side of the Street.” Again, some live versions would top 5 or 6 minutes but because of the packed nature of the program, there’s only time for two choruses–but Louis makes them count. The vocal is warmth personified and after a short solo by Trummy, Louis takes flight. There’s more great camera work as the sweat pours out of every poor and Armstrong’s eyes continue rolling back in his head; the notes are ones he minted when he first started playing this song 25 years earlier, but it took a lot of effort and dedication to pull it off. Just a sensational performance, one I’m sure the critics will have nothing to complain about (uh oh, foreshadowing….)
• At 11:50, it’s Armstrong’s turn to sing a short Timex jingle (Uncle Herschel!), which brings on John Cameron Swayze to do his thing. The full commercial has been edited out, but don’t miss Armstrong and trombonist Jack Teagarden each getting to play a snatch of “Time on My Hands.”

We’re off and running–onto Part 2!

• Teagarden’s segment immediately opens Part 2, finding him fronting an all-star small group with cornetist Ruby Braff, clarinetist Tony Parenti, and a rhythm section made up entirely of ex-Armstrong All Stars, pianist Marty Napoleon, bassist Chubby Jackson, and drummer Cozy Cole. Teagarden does his familiar, but no less effective routine on “Basin Street Blues,” singing the verse he helped compose and ending with his “trombone coda” calling card. Garry Moore then enters and asks the audience not to clap “because sometimes you’re on the wrong beat and it bugs them a little!” This appears to have been an ad lib and it’s a good one!
• Teagarden and Moore then introduce the band, with Teagarden seeming a bit stiff (he appears to forget Marty Napoleon’s name) but Moore, ever the professional, is relaxed and guides them through the sequence unscathed. Teagarden calls Braff “The Ivy League’s Louis Armstrong” and tells Braff to “Show them what I mean.”
• At 4:45, we switch sources again as Braff starts improvising, backed only by Cole’s cymbals. Soon enough, he’s answered by the unmistakable sound of Armstrong. The two trade and though Braff sounds quite wonderful, Armstrong was just having an all-time great night and almost swallows him whole (we have a taped conversation between Braff and Jack Bradley in the 1990s and Braff was still embarrassed by the episode, though I think he was being hard on himself–he sounds great). Armstrong strides over and leads the ensemble in a hard-charging chorus of “Jeepers Creepers” before singing it as a duet with Teagarden. My favorite moment occurs in the second chorus when Armstrong sings, “How’d you get so lit up?” and legitimately cracks Teagarden up–oh, the love they had for one another! They then trade with their horns, Armstrong improvising his eight, before an exciting rideout which finds Pops taking the melody up an octave–and going even higher than that for the coda! My goodness!
• At 8:20 Moore announces that it’s time for something different, giving the audience a primer on “cool jazz” as he brings on Gerry Mulligan’s quartet with Mulligan on baritone saxophone, Art Farmer on trumpet, Henry Grimes on bass, and Dave Bailey on drums. They stretch out a bit on a lively version of Mulligan’s composition “Funhouse,” indeed a fine change of pace. (Some online sources say this tune is “Night Walk,” but I can’t find anything with that title; it does seem to have more in common with “Funhouse” as a jam on “Bernie’s Tune” changes.)

Let’s move on to Part 3:

• Moore can immediately be heard saying, “How about a little ‘Birdland’?” which is a cue for pianist George Shearing to play a bit of his composition “Lullaby of Birdland.” Moore then introduces the full Shearing Quintet–Emil Richards (vib), Toots Thielemans (g), Al McKibbon (b), John Rae (dr), Armando Perazza (congas)–before they launch into “Cuban Fantasy.” Then Moore wants to make a point about the different styles in jazz, asking the Shearing Quintet to play a chorus of “September in the Rain”….before the same tune is performed by the Dukes of Dixieland, who come marching in from offstage.
• At 5:40, Moore talks briefly with Frank and “Papa” Jac Assunto before the Dukes do their arrangement of “Over the Waves,” featuring the two tailgate trombones of Papa Jac and Freddie Assunto. (Good thing 3-D television hadn’t been invented with the slides coming right at the camera.) The Dukes really break it up and must have impressed Louis, who would make two albums with them in the next two years.
• Around 9 minutes and 20 seconds in, Garry Moore warns the audience that Jaye P. Morgan is coming from the world of pop music but was going to attempt to sing jazz. I think she does marginally better than Ruth Olay, who we heard on the January 1959 show, but it’s still such an odd choice given the amount of superstar jazz vocalists on the scene in 1958. At least the rhythm section of pianist Buddy Weed, Chubby Jackson, Gene Krupa, and, on “The Lady is a Tramp” Lionel Hampton, sounds good. (And I’ll just say it; I grew up on “Gong Show” reruns so that latter tune seems to be an appropriate choice for her later pop culture image in the 1970s!)
• Moore and Morgan then indulge in some banter at 14:40, which I don’t have the high-quality audio for, so you’ll see it switch back to the YouTube version. But it’s back just in time for a plug for The Gene Krupa Story as Hamp leads the rhythm section through “Moonglow” and the members of his big band get into place. At 15:30, Morgan exclaims to Moore, “I think something’s about to happen!” leading the two to flee for safety. The “something” is an exciting performance of “The Chase” with solos for some of Hamp’s men (is that Ed Mullens on trumpet and Bobby Plater on alto?) before one of the best filmed showcases of Hampton’s two-fingered pianistics. Hamp makes it over to the vibes for the shout choruses, with Krupa driving hard, but sadly, Gene doesn’t get his innings (though he does get the lion’s share of the applause). Another Hampton sung jingle is a cue for John Cameron Swayze to do another Timex commercial, but that, too, has been edited.

And now, the grand finale:

• We pick it up with a little more of the subpar audio as Moore starts his good nights as Randy Hall’s tin whistle fills the air. The sound improves as Moore begins walking around the stage, thanking the Dukes of Dixieland and Buddy Weed’s Quartet, before he turns to the subject of the blues, bringing in an expert–Louis Armstrong–to testify on the matter. We’re able to switch visuals at this point, with Louis clearly reading a cue card, but he can’t completely contain his spontaneity, referring to Garry Moore as “Brother Garrison.”
• But at 1:25, Armstrong asks “Brother” George Shearing to play some blues, and the finale is off and running! I wrote about this years ago on my old blog and described it as a “Jazz Dream.” Borrowing from what I originally wrote, all you have to do is look at the assemblage at the start: Shearing soloing (Pops digging him), Gerry Mulligan, Jack Teagarden, and Chubby Jackson. Pops makes all the introductions, as natural as ever. The camera swings around and catches the great Hampton, backed by his entire orchestra, who stand around and let Hamp solo…isn’t that how things usually went? (I kid…I love Hamp.) Hamp doubles the tempo, and now we’re off and swinging.
  Now, have you ever had a dream where someone you’d least expect decides to pop up? That’s how I feel when Jaye P. Morgan shows up again to sing with Louis! Morgan almost dislocates her elbow trying to keep time, but Pops is there to save the day with a righteous scatted obbligato and a delightful turn on the tune’s minor strain, which Velma Middleton always sang in live performances. (Dig the reference to “chops”…hilarious!)
  Now wait a minute…who else is appearing in this dream of mine? Is that Gene Krupa peering from over Armstrong’s shoulder? Yessir, I believe it is. The camera cuts back to Armstrong and Morgan in a two-shot, Pops scatting beautifully, even quoting W.C. Handy’s “Memphis Blues,” which he always played in his trumpet obbligato to Velma’s vocals on the tune.
  Hamp then substitutes Charlie Parker’s “Blues For Alice” changes (a favorite of the vibraphonist’s), adding a slightly modern touch for four bars (though he uses those changes to quote “Carry Me Back to Old Virginny”!) and allowing Pops to get his chops together for a smoking outing. Again, in his live performances, Armstrong tended to take the tune at a rocking, medium groove, and he usually had his concluding solo minted in stone. But here, at a more lively tempo, Armstrong unleashes a steady stream of swinging improvisations, sounding very strong and undeniably creative, eventually coaxing his old friend Hamp into an engaging trade.
  Hampton then signals another tempo change, ushering in the aforementioned Krupa, who begins a furious drum battle with Cozy Cole. What’s a good dream without a drum battle? As Hamp’s orchestra begins wailing, host Gary Moore appears from out of nowhere behind a makeshift kit of drums with “John Philip Sousa” on the square bass.
  The credits begin to roll with Hamp’s orchestra wailing, Pops joining in and soaring over the uproar, which also includes the sound of the announcer making his closing announcements. Hampton begins urging the audience to get up out of their seats–I do have a feeling that this session might have continued a bit more after they went off the air–but alas, we fade out and the dream has come to an end.

Phew, that’s how you end a show! Not perfect by any means, but a really well-done finale as compared to the never-ending, cacophonous “Perdido” that would end the fourth Timex show and put Timex out of the jazz business entirely.

In our post on that fourth show, we provided a long look at the reactions to it, as it was heavily featured in the jazz periodicals of the period. That did not happen after the April 30, 1958 broadcast, but we’ll have some stuff to share in a bit.

But first, representing the mainstream press, syndicated columnist Jack O’Brien:

It should be pointed out that O’Brien was a close friend of Joe Glaser so he was probably going to rave no matter how it turned out, but his column was reprinted in dozens of papers around the country so it probably went a long way in framing the show as a success. Even in his follow-up, O’Brien wrote, “The wonderful Timex jazz show Wednesday triumphed over all opposition. It beat ‘This is Your Life’ and buried the fights. This means more jazz shows. Hurray.”

Another positive review came from Arthur Grace in the “Miami News”:

Over in the Black press, a syndicated review from the Associated Negro Press was also a rave, praising Armstrong and Hampton specifically:

Not every review was as kind as the ones shared above. “It’s a contradiction of terms but a jazz show can be square,” Variety wrote. “This was evidenced in Timex’s second all-star gig last week. In fact ever since teevee began to develop its romance with jazz, the affairs, for the most part, have been uninspired musical outings. (The ‘Seven Lively Arts’ show several months ago is perhaps the spotlighted exception!). In conception and execution the shows have been far behind current jazz moods and have failed to relay what the beat is all about.

“Instead, like the Timex show, they have relied on the tried and tested tootlers and have played it safe with a musical display that’s been heard over and over again on records, in clubs and theatres and now on teevee. Perhaps it’s all done to appeal to the uninitiated masses but if teevee is going to be adventurous and pioneering in the field of jazz, it should be a bit more courageous in its programming ideas.” Variety also referred to Jaye P. Morgan as “a standout bit of miscasting.”

The Timex show fared similarly in the jazz press, though coverage was scant. In his “Out of My Head” column in the June 12, 1958 issue of Down Beat, George Crater wrote, “The Louis Armstrong-Jaye P. Morgan duet on the recent Timex jazz TV show was one of the most incongruous moments in the history of man.” One month later, Down Beat published a letter on the subject from reader R. I. Toney. “To get right to brass tacks–Why the devil does Louis Armstrong have to ruin himself in the eyes of many like myself every time Timex pays for a jazz pot on TV?” Toney wrote. “If they want to put together an Armstrong show, then fine–I’ll watch it. If, however, there will be other people who should be seen and heard then tell him to stay out of the way.” Down Beat responded, “You tell him.”

The most vitriol was reserved for Rob Gannon’s “Vibrations” column in Metronome, which we’ll reprint in full below:

“Across the top of my note sheet I scribbled, ‘Another Blow to Jazz,’ after Garry Moore, in typical network spectacular fashion, led the uninspired Dixie group from the street on to the stage. After a technically sloppy montage-type intro with a half-dozen notes by as many principals: after the sweaty-faced closeups of ‘…the best-ambassador-jazz-ever-had’ – Armstrong. And while Lionel Hampton, complete with clapping musicians and unison swaying instruments, ruba-dubbed his way through a ’39 ‘One O’Clock Jump’ arrangement, just prior to tap dancing on his drums (as he did a few nights later, on [Steve] Allen’s show, climaxing by falling through one). Another Timex All-Star Jazz Show crashed about us.
“Once again the Grand Perpetuator of the Great American Jazz Fraud, Our Old Satchmo, dominated. His main solos: ‘Muskrat Ramble’ and ‘Sunny Side of the Street’–again.
“One guest on the ‘Armstrong Hour,’ George Shearing (with unnamed sidemen) was allowed a fleeting minute of some highly interesting ‘Lullaby of Birdland’ chord-changes before network producers channeled him into an incomprehensible–and dull–Latin. (Earl Wilson later said that Shearing ordered his agents not to book him on any more shows unless he can choose his own tunes.)
“Then there was Jaye P. Morgan, a fine pop singer and an occasionally inventive night club jazz vocalist, who debuted as a TV jazz singer on the show. She was scared–just as we all expected–and instead of a relaxed, thoughtful performance, let adventurism control. One wonders why the networks selected her to represent to the nation the best of vocal jazz.
Two high points in the show: Teagarden (always warm and entertaining–probably because he hasn’t been forced into the role of a nuncio) and Mulligan, who with Art Farmer, emerged undamaged in spit of terrible audio work.
So it was with the second Timex attempt to show the nation what’s happening in jazz. In spite of the fact that ‘Timex All-Star Jazz Show Saves Viewers the Price of Four Jazz Concerts’ (as one CBS-TV publicity release was headed), I for one feel that the program did a great disservice to the jazz community.
But I find myself, by far, in the minority, in my opinion. New York Post’s Jo Copolla, for instance, in a rather glowing review of the show, said, ‘Louis Armstrong, that happy horn-blower,’ made ‘music with such intensity that sweat glistened on his face….’ That’s one standard, but I always that it is the music that counts.
“Even Times man Jack Gould, probably most admired of New York’s TV critics, said that the program ‘…did constitute a forward step toward recognizing jazz as an art…’
“Only Village Voice columnist Bob Reisner, transcending his usual mediocrity, said this: ‘I am heartily tired of the big-name-drag blues and their old routines. Jazz does not consist of marching around clowning, sweaty displays of energy, screeching high notes…When it comes to jazz, Timex does not know the right time. His review’s title: What’s TV Got Against Jazz?”

That’s a pretty nasty review, and even Bob Reisner’s reference to “clowning, sweaty displays of energy, screeching high notes” seems to be a shot at Armstrong without mentioning him by name. But once again, we have the late, great Dan Morgenstern, to serve as the voice of reason in his Jazz Journal column:

“Too many attractions, but a well-paced show with plenty of spots for Louis: with the All Stars; with Teagarden (on ‘Jeepers Creepers’ which opened with fours between Ruby Braff and Louis, offstage— Louis’ fours being the high point of the programme for these ears); with Miss Morgan on ‘St. Louis Blues’ (she tried, but Pops sounded, and almost looked, younger than she), and riding on top of the whole assembly as the credits flashed by. These shows often meet with heavy criticism from jazz critics but among musicians the consensus is that it is beneficial to mix all styles of jazz and even feature names in the Popular Music field because this will attract a larger and more varied audience than any straight jazz progamme.”

Morgenstern was right and the second Timex All-Star Jazz Show was successful enough to warrant a third installment to be broadcast from Miami in November of that year. Unfortunately, Maynard Frank Wolfe didn’t make the trip so we don’t have any photos or stories to share from that one, though it was a rough night for Armstrong, who was dealing with a severely sore set of chops. But as already covered in great detail, he was back in peak form for the fourth–and ultimately, final–Timex show in January 1959.

So this concludes our deep dives on the second and fourth Timex All-Star Jazz Shows, as experienced through the lens of Maynard Frank Wolfe’s camera (with an assist to Jack Bradley for purchasing the negatives from Wolfe in the 1960s and to Mike Persico for discovering them in Jack’s home in 2017). Thanks for reading and feel free to leave a comment with your opinion on the second Timex show. Masterpiece? Overblown mess? Average? Missed opportunity? Let us know what you think!