My name is Monk Rowe and we are filming for
the Hamilton College Jazz Archive in Danbury, Connecticut. I'm very pleased to have veteran
trombonist Eddie Bert with me. Thank you very much for joining me.
EB: Thanks for having me. MR: I barely know where to start with a career
like yours, but it's very impressive to look at the people that have played with you and
the people you have played with. But maybe we'll just talk, we'll go backwards for a
moment. Tell me what you're doing right now with Bobby Short. It sounds great.
EB: Well I'm at the Carlyle and he added three saxes, two trumpets and a trombone about five
years ago. So I do that, among other things. MR: This would be your - let me do the math
here - 50- how long - I can't do the math - how many years have you been playing the
trombone? EB: Well I started when I was 13, so it's
quite a while. MR: Yeah. Long time. Did you come from a musical
background, your family? EB: No.
MR: No? EB: No.
MR: What made you gravitate - and was trombone your first instrument?
EB: Not really. You see I grew up in the Bronx. Then when I was ten I moved to Mount Vernon.
And in the Bronx they didn't have any band so I didn't know where that radio, the radio
stuff came from. I heard the radio and I heard music but I didn't know anything about it.
So then when I got to Mount Vernon they had a band in the school, in the elementary school.
And the teacher said, "here, try this trumpet." So I played the trumpet. And she said yeah,
you'd be a good trumpet player, tell your father to get you a horn. Nothing. So I had
to take what was there. And they had an E flat alto horn. And you don't do too much
with that. When the tuba goes oomph, you go pah. Oomph-pah, oomph-pah, oomph. And that
got kind of boring. So one day we were playing a concert in one of the schools and we were
playing the "Skater's Waltz," and the drummer couldn't play three-four. So I said let me
play that. Because I had some friends in the drum section you know. So anyway I started
playing bass drum and we were right in back of the trombones. And they had these counter
melodies in the marches and stuff like that. And I said yeah, I like that. So I had a broken
umbrella. And, you know the part that goes up? So I did that, and I had a razzer. You
know what a razzer is? MR: I think so.
EB: One of those big rubber things brrumph, brrumpt, brrumph. So I'd walk down the street
going like that. So finally my father says what are you doing? I says playing trombone.
But it isn't a trombone. I said yeah but I don't have one. So he finally got me one of
these stupid, it was like what we call a pea shooter. It was made by Wurlitzer. And it
was a terrible horn but it was a horn. So I played it for a little bit.
MR: It was a trombone but just a lousy one? EB: Yeah. But then after about a year he bought
me a horn. So that's how I started. MR: That's a great story. Wouldn't it be cool
to have a picture of you going down the street with that umbrella. You know it's funny too,
a lot of guys, did you say it was a Sears trombone?
EB: No a Wurlitzer. MR: Wurlitzer, okay.
EB: They made pianos but I guess they made a few instruments.
MR: Yeah that's true. EB: It was like Sears & Roebuck.
MR: Sure. A lot of those early instruments came from them, and the catalogue, and cost
five or six dollars. EB: Yeah.
MR: That's cool. So you had mentioned hearing the music on the radio.
EB: Yeah. MR: Was there particular things that started
to catch your ear at those times? EB: No but my cousin had a band. He was a
trumpet player. One of my cousins. And he said do you want to play with my band, because
he heard me practicing. And I said yeah. Because in those days you couldn't play jazz in the
school. They said that's not music so you can't play that. So we had to go to people's
houses. Guys would get together and we'd get what's called stock arrangements, and we'd
play them. So he had a band so I went with him and started playing these stocks. But
in those days you could go in the record store and they had 78s. And they had booths that
you could listen to records. So I got this record, Jones-Smith Incorporated. I didn't
know what it was but I liked the tenor player. So I had no idea who it was. But then I found
out it was Lester Young and that they were going in The Famous Door.
MR: Jones and Smith? EB: Jones-Smith. It was Jo Jones and Carl
Smith. MR: And who Smith?
EB: Carl Smith. Because the situation was that Basie had signed with Decca and they
were on their way to New York to record. And they stopped by Chicago and this guy from
Vocalion Records wanted them to record. But he couldn't record because he had a contract,
so they used the name Jones-Smith Incorporated. But it was actually Basie's rhythm section
with Lester and this guy Carl "Tatti" Smith on trumpet and James Rushing singing. And
they made four sides. And that was Lester Young's debut on records. And I had to hear
him. I mean you know, I said I've got to hear this guy, he sounded great. Because the tenor
is in the same register as the trombone. So the way I got to see him was the band was
playing at The Famous Door. I couldn't get in because I was too young. They wouldn't
let kids in. So I knew they were rehearsing for a record date so I called Benny Morton
and I said would you mind giving me lessons? So he said, the only way I could do that,
you're going to have to come to rehearsal and I'll teach you after rehearsal. Perfect.
I got to meet Lester and all the guys in the band.
MR: Oh that's great. EB: And I knew them like all my life.
MR: That would have been - EB: That was August of '38.
MR: '38. Yeah. That was their New York debut, wasn't it?
EB: Yeah well the rehearsal I went to they were rehearsing "Stop Beating Around Mulberry
Bush," "London Bridge," and "Jumpin' at the Woodside," which was a head arrangement, they
didn't have any arrangement for that you know. MR: God, what a moment.
EB: Oh yeah. MR: And the trombone section, was Benny -
EB: Dickie Wells and Dan Minor. But Benny was like a studious guy and I knew that he
would be receptive. Dickie was kind of wild in those days. I got to know Dickie later.
And Dan Minor was a great guy too, but Benny had that style and he was always practicing,
I could tell. So he was good. MR: And what did your father think of that?
EB: He didn't know what was going on really. He was a baseball player and he wanted me
to play baseball so he was a catcher and he bought the mask and the protection and anyway,
he later on became an umpire. MR: Really.
EB: So I had to go put the score up, so I used to bring my horn and in between innings
practice behind the scoreboard. MR: That's great.
EB: When I went with Charlie Barnet he finally says, "I guess you're serious."
MR: Yeah. He finally saw that there might be a future in this, huh?
EB: Yeah. MR: Wow. That wasn't actually your first job
was it? EB: No.
MR: With Barnet? EB: No.
MR: So you started, let's see, you got through high school playing in the school bands and
stuff, right? And then it says you went with Sam Donahue? When you were 18?
EB: Well the first band I went with was actually a non-union band. We played at a place called
the Post Lodge in Larchmont, New York for about a year, or maybe a year and a half.
And what it was, it was three saxes, two trumpets, a trombone and four rhythm. And we played,
it was on the style of the Savoy Sultans. And that was seven days a week. And well,
I was the only white guy in the band but that's what I wanted to play, with that kind of music.
So that's what I did. But it was a non-union band and all that. So then all of a sudden
I got this offer from Sam Donahue, so I had to join the union, like in one day and go
up to Boston and meet him. That's the way that happened.
MR: Did you have to do anything special to get into the union?
EB: No. MR: Just pay your dues?
EB: I think they gave me a second trombone part on "Tiger Rag" and see if I could play
that. MR: Yeah?
EB: You know, it was just a formality. But my father knew some violin player that was
in the union so he sort of got me in. MR: Gosh the union played a pretty big role
at that time, didn't it? EB: At that time, yeah.
MR: Yeah. Because you had to - if you wanted to quit a band, didn't you have to give a
certain amount of notice? EB: Yeah. But I didn't have to give any notice
because it was a non-union band. MR: I see.
EB: So that was bypassed. MR: So by this time you'd pretty much decided
this is what I'm going to do. EB: No, in other words, I liked to play and
that was it. In fact, I was making $17 a week with that band and I was going with this girl
from when I was 13 we met, only 13. And I said, "we can get married now." So we did.
Because I had to go on the road and I wasn't going to leave her, so $17 was a lot then.
MR: Oh my. You could send some money home, huh?
EB: Yeah. MR: Wow. What was it like being on the road?
How old were you? You were 18? EB: 18. Yeah.
MR: Traveled in a bus? EB: Well mostly buses, yeah, or cars, a lot
by car. So eventually I went with Red Norvo. We rehearsed for three months in a place called
Hartfellow's Hall, and it was on 48th Street. We rehearsed for three months in that. Guys
from Duke's band would come by. Because Red was well known at that time. But this was
like, he had a band from Pittsburgh and he had heard me jamming in a place which was
across the street from where Sweet Basil's is now. And we used to go in there and jam,
it was with a guy, I don't know if you know him, Luther Henderson. It was Luther Henderson,
Leonard Ware on guitar, and a bass player, Slim. And everybody used to go in and jam.
So Red Norvo and Mildred Bailey came in one night and he said, "I'm starting a band do
you want to come with us?" So I said sure. You know, and that's how I got with Red.
MR: Wow. That was your first recorded solo, wasn't it? With him?
EB: Yeah. MR: "Jersey Bounce."
EB: That's right. MR: Do you remember that moment? That session?
EB: Well yeah. It was in Liederkranz Hall. And in those days you'd be in the hall, or
this recording studio, and they would call downstairs and say, "start the wax." That's
where they got that name cutting wax, because I guess the machines were all in the basement
and they would cut, you know, the record, and that's how you made a record. So we recorded
three vocals that day with Mildred Bailey and "Jersey Bounce." But Red told me later,
he had a contract with Columbia and, as you know the war started, and that put a crimp
in that. So he never got use of the contract. He would have been a bigger name probably.
MR: Right. EB: But we did only those four sides.
MR: Do you remember what you got paid for that? You seem to have a pretty good recall.
EB: It was forty-one and a quarter at that time.
MR: Yeah. EB: That's what scale was. But years later,
like maybe 50 years later, somebody gave me a collection from 25 to 45 big bands. And
on it, or in it, was this "Jersey Bounce" by Red Norvo. I said well I know what it sounds
like. But let's see what they did with the CD. And I played it. It was slower, and I
played a whole different solo, because it was slower. So the way I figured it, that
one went about 3 minutes and 25 seconds. And in those days you couldn't go beyond 3 minutes.
So what must have happened, we made the first take, or one of the first takes, right? And
they said it's too long, you've got to shorten it. So we sped it up, you know we played it
faster. So that it would be about 3 minutes. So I called Red and I said, "hey, there's
another take on 'Jersey Bounce.'" He says, "how did I play?"
MR: Years later. That's great. How did I do. EB: I never would have known that there was
another take except somebody gave me this box.
MR: So they were able to somehow get the slower take on the wax.
EB: Well they can get it on the CD. MR: Right. But at the time they couldn't put
it on a 78. EB: No they couldn't put it on the 78.
MR: So that master survived or something. EB: Yeah, it's amazing. Because all the solos
were different, because of the tempo. MR: That's funny, we can't fit it on the thing
so speed it up. EB: But Red had a good band in those days.
Eddie Sauter wrote for him and a guy by the name of Johnny Thompson, who was studying
with Eddie sort of. So we had all good arrangements. And he had double reeds, like oboes, bassoons
- MR: Oh my.
EB: Flutes. MR: So that's where Eddie Sauter got that
thing in his head. EB: Well he had that, because he had worked
with Red. You know he was the trumpet player. And he played third trumpet with Red. He said
if that would have been fourth he would have played fourth. But he ended up a writer. And
he wrote great. But that's how he started with Red.
MR: What about the war years? Did you go in the service?
EB: Well the day after we opened at the Blue Gardens with Red, that was December 6, 1941.
So the war started the next day. But we did travel, we traveled in the midwest, did a
lot of theaters. And Jimmy Durante was, he did twelve weeks with us. But at that point
you couldn't get gas so we had to travel by train. We had our own car - I mean car on
the train, you know what I mean? MR: Sure. A Pullman type?
EB: Yeah. And they'd disconnect us and connect us with another train and all that. So we
did a whole bunch of theaters. Mildred did some of them with us. But Jimmy Durante was
part of the act, until the draft started getting through to the band. So then Red broke up
and wanted to get a small band. So he said I don't have any trumpet player that knows
how to play small band, you know in the big band it was different. So I said yeah, I know
a guy. And when I was a kid, I played with a band called Hal Gill, who was from Fordham,
which wasn't too far from Mount Vernon and in that band I met Shorty Rodgers, Stan Getz,
Manny Albam, all these guys were playing in the band. We were all a bunch of kids. So
I knew Shorty, and Shorty and I got a group together. We used to rehearse in Mount Vernon
and played gigs if we could get any. Nobody would hire us because we didn't have any saxophones.
What we had was trumpet, trombone and rhythm. So anyway, Shorty had just gone with Will
Bradley. That was his first band. So I called him and I said, "you want to go with Red Norvo
with a small band?" "Oh yeah." So I got him on the band.
MR: There you go. EB: So it was a great band. And I'm trying
to get some recordings of that band out. We were two days in George Simon's house recording,
because it was a recording band, in '42. And we were at The Famous Door so we were rehearsed
and the band was tight. A good band. Aaron Sachs, Shorty Rodgers, Clyde Lombardi, Specs
Powell and Hank Cohoot on piano. MR: What did the musicians in general think
about that recording ban? EB: We had to go along with it, but that ruined
the big band business. Because then vocalists started recording with string sections, recorded
in Europe, which they could do, and all of a sudden the vocalists were the big thing.
MR: Yeah. People's tastes changed because that's all they were getting?
EB: Yeah. Before there were singers with bands, like Frank Sinatra, Peggy Lee, they were band
singers. And now the band accompanied them. It reversed. So it ruined the big bands.
MR: It's too bad. It lasted almost two years, didn't it?
EB: Yeah. Then there was another one around '47.
MR: Oh. I didn't know about that. EB: That really did it.
MR: Did you have to go into the Army? EB: Yeah.
MR: What was your experience like? What did they have you doing?
EB: Well that's when I - I don't want to go into the whole story, but I had my horn with
me, and well I don't want to take time to tell all that but-
MR: Okay. But you managed to keep playing? EB: I wanted to get in the Air Force because
I'd heard Glenn Miller had a band in Yale. So I joined the Air Cadets and it took me
a month - he had to like get the okay for a college degree and stuff like that. And
so I spent a month in, what was it Camp - no Fort Dix when I was drafted. I was drafted
out of Woody's band by the way. Me and Nick Travis. And Bill Harris took my place.
MR: Oh my. I didn't know that. EB: But anyway I had passed everything with
the Air Cadets so they said, "what do you want to be, a bombardier or a navigator or
a pilot?" I said, "no, I want to be a musician." "We don't have any musicians in the Air Cadets."
"Oh really? Put me back in the Army." So they put me back in the Army. They said forget
all that. So then they started Special Service at that point, so I was shipped down to Alabama.
Camp Sibert. And people like Mickey Rooney and Joe Lewis were down there and all musicians
and actors and stuff like that. So anyway one day one of the commanders came through
and said "anybody got a band?" And Bill Finnegan was down there. He said, "yeah I've got a
band." He knew all the guys you know. So he got a band together and we had one arrangement.
They flew us down to Birmingham to play in the hospital for a dance. So we played one
arrangement, you know, played the arrangement. Then we played some head arrangements. Then
he said, "play the arrangement again." We played the arrangement again. So we got by
on one arrangement. And they loved it. So they said they're going to put you on tour.
So they made a tour. Meanwhile I got shipped out and I ended up, I'm not going to go through
it all, but I ended up in several camps and then finally got back to Sibert. And Bill
said, "where were you?" I said, "wherever they want me to go." So anyway he was going
to Camp Shanks. So I ended up going with him. So we were in Camp Shanks, which is up near
Nyack. So I was right near home, you know, across the river. So all we played was shows.
It was an unauthorized band. We had a dog act, we had a comedian, and an 18 piece orchestra.
And we played for Jo Stafford and Ethel Merman, who was pregnant. Anyway we played at the
point of our location and just played troops in and out.
MR: Okay. EB: So it was a good gig. So that was my Army
career. MR: Well at least you didn't have to go shoot
a rifle then. EB: No. Just for Basic Training.
MR. Was Chubby Jackson on the Woody Herman band when you were there?
EB: Yeah, he's the one that got me on because when I had the group with Shorty Rogers he
was teaching the bass player. So Chubby got me on Woody's band. Well first he got me on
Barnet's band. That was a great band at that point. And then he said the change is coming
and you've got to come in Woody's band. So I went in Woody's band and that's where I
got drafted. So that was that. Then the Army. And then when I got out of the Army I went
with Herbie Fields for a little bit. He was working around. I don't know if you know Herbie.
MR: Well you've got a succession of bands, kind of one after the other. Was there a particular
reason that musicians seemed to go from one band to the other quite often?
EB: Yeah. In other words I'm from New York, right?
MR: Yeah. EB: So you're based in New York. When Kai
Winding left Stan Kenton, this was in '47, he called and said, "I'm not going back with
the band so why don't you call Stan." Because he had seen me with Red when we were at The
Aquarium in New York, you know a club in New York. He came in with his band. That was when
that band debuted. And I was with Red at that time, with the small band. And he heard me
and he was friendly and all that. So I wrote to him and he said yeah, come on the band.
So that's California. So I had to go to California, right? I knew he was coming to New York because
we worked at the Commodore Hotel for a month and then we went to the Paramount Theater
and we did a lot of recording. This was in '47. So then he started back out to California.
And meanwhile I had a baby with my wife and I said I've got to jump off. So I had to jump
off. So that's what happened. I joined him three different times and I kept jumping off
when he'd go back to California. Because, you know, the family situation. That's the
way you stay married. MR: Yeah.
EB: So anyway, that's why I was with a lot of bands. Because I'd always do that. When
I went with Benny Goodman, he was going out, but he was going to stay out there for six
months he told us. He stayed for six weeks and then started coming back. So that was
kind of a drag. MR: What was it like to be on the road at
that time? Was it a tough life? EB: Yeah. I mean you don't eat right and all
that. Because you're traveling by bus mostly. And when you stop you stop. You're liable
to stop in some place that don't have that good food and stuff like that. So it's kind
of a scuffle. MR: And a typical day, would the bus leave
after you're done playing? EB: It depends how far the trip is. If it's
300 miles or 500 miles, you've got to leave after the gig. And you had to pay for your
own hotel in those days. So a lot of guys ghosted. In other words, you had two in a
room instead of one. Or three. Whatever you can get away with.
MR: Yeah. Okay. Wow. And what was the salary like? I mean I know it varied from band to
band. EB: Yeah. From a bill and a half to two bills.
But your expenses had to come out of that. So it wasn't like today. Today they put you
up. It's different. MR: I wanted to play a little piece here.
See if it jogs your memory. EB: Well I know it's Stan's band.
MR: Yeah. EB: It's probably Maynard.
MR: "Cuban Carnival." EB: Oh yeah.
MR: And you're on this, I think around '46 or so.
EB: No, it must have been '47. MR: Okay.
EB: I joined him in '47. MR: All right. '47. What did you think of
his music? EB: Well he featured trombones. That's why
I wanted to go with that band. And he was very popular. I mean guys were poll winners
in the band, like Shelly Manne and Art Pepper and all them. So I figured well let me go.
Because Kai had done great on the band and Kai and I were friends. So I went with the
band. And it was like a family that band. It was great. He was a great guy to work for.
Great. MR: Some people didn't think he swung very
good. EB: No. That he didn't.
MR: Okay. EB: One night we played in Mankato, Minnesota.
Mankato Ballroom. And generally Stan would like spread out. But this night the bandstand
was small. So we were like this. And the band started swinging. And of course we all wanted
to swing. So the band was swinging and he stopped it. He said, "this is not Basie. This
is Stan Kenton." So we were looking at each other like damn. We finally got off the - you
know- MR: That's really curious.
EB: Yeah I don't know, he just didn't understand swinging.
MR: I never thought about it backwards though, I mean like at that point how would you stop
swinging? EB: I know. We all looked at each other like
what is he talking about. I mean Shelly is a swinger. You know, Shelly Manne.
MR: Yeah. Don't swing. EB: Well we always used to go out after the
gig and go blow somewhere, wherever we were. But when you get on the bandstand it was Stan
Kenton. MR: Interesting. He did a lot of Latin oriented
stuff too I guess at that time. EB: Yeah. All kinds of stuff.
MR: But people who came to Kenton expecting to dance, was that a problem?
EB: We used to play the "Concerto to End All Concertos" and that was like all different
tempos. And I swear I'd see people dancing. I don't know what they were doing but they
were dancing. You know you'd have the crowd in the front they were all standing there,
and then in the back would be people dancing. Well maybe they caught the changes, I don't
know. MR: Oh yow. Interesting.
EB: But his band was very popular, very. MR: Yeah.
EB: He had like a machine. In other words, he had a guy that would go out a month in
advance and set everything up, have pictures in all the music stores, have the records.
It was his advance man. Then he would leave after the gig, wherever we were, he'd have
his car, and he'd leave and do interviews and be on the radio in whatever city we were
in, and it was like a machine. So it all kept rolling like that. It was very popular.
MR: Good self-promotion then. EB: Oh yeah.
MR: And Shelly Manne was on the group. Who were your section mates at the time, do you
remember? EB: That was Bart Varsalona, Milt Bernhart,
Harry Betts, Harry Forbes and me. Five bones. MR: Wow. That's a lot of people.
EB: Oh yeah. MR: A lot of payroll too.
EB: Well Pete Rugulo was writing most of the stuff and he wrote great.
MR: Yeah. I think that's one of his things. EB: Very knowledgeable about the horns and
how to write for them and all that. He's still writing.
MR: Was there any point in these years, late 40s or early 50s, did you ever think of changing
careers? EB: No I never thought of that.
MR: I'm glad. EB: To what?
MR: Well okay. It was a little late for baseball I guess.
EB: But I had to figure out a way to get off the road because it was getting to be like
I'd get in town and you'd try to get established and there was a lot of guys working and that
- don't forget, every radio station had a band. And there was hotels, every hotel had
a band. And there were theaters. That's all gone. There were a lot of clubs. I mean 52nd
Street, that was for a while, but then there was other clubs after that. And I mean guys
were established in New York. And you'd come in and they'd say, "don't hire him he's a
roadie." So I'd have to go back on the road. So my wife says, "why don't you use the GI
bill?" So I went to Manhattan School of Music and it took me seven years to get a master's
but meanwhile they heard I was in town so guys would call up and say can you do a date,
like and I'd have to borrow a horn and run down and do a date. But finally I got in with
the thing and I got established. MR: I never heard that particular term before,
"he's a roadie." EB: Yeah well in other words you get a name
that you're always on the road, which I was, but I couldn't do anything about it. Even
though I was from New York, I couldn't get into that core. But eventually I did by going
to school. Because when I went to Manhattan School of Music, Max Roach was there, John
Lewis was there, Joe Wilder was there, and there was all, it was like a jazz school almost.
MR: But you weren't taking jazz courses, right? EB: Oh no, no. They couldn't understand that.
MR: So you got a degree in teaching? EB: Yeah.
MR: Right. Did you ever really use it? EB: When I was doing my student teaching they
had me go to Yonkers to do - a guy was doing jury duty, you know, the band whatever. So
they said you go up there for two weeks. So I went up there and about the second or third
day I went to the principal and I said, "I got a record date can I take off tomorrow?"
He said, "what's a record date?" I said oh, Jesus, not for me. So I got out of that. I
never used it. MR: Oh that's funny, what's a record date.
EB: Yeah. If he didn't know what a record date was, I don't belong there. I had to get
out. You can't turn record dates down. I mean then you end up a roadie.
MR: Okay. You're right back where you started. EB: Yeah. So that was that. I forgot about
the teaching. MR: But you did get the degree.
EB: Yeah. I've still got it. MR: Yeah you've still got it.
EB: My wife wants me to use it, I said no, you know, not now.
MR: That's great. Good story. So Benny Goodman, Ray McKinley, Les Elgart. It kind of goes
on and on. EB: Well you see in those days there was a
lot of bands. A lot of bands. So you'd work from one to the other. Somebody'd always want
you and the phone would ring and you'd do it.
MR: But you managed to kind of do them - how do I put this - and stay on the East Coast?
MR: You had to grab the opportunities when they came, didn't you?
EB: Yeah. Well I went back to New York after we did the three weeks in Chicago and there
was Nola Studios, which was the place to meet. And everybody rehearsed there and so I rehearsed
with the Nonet with Miles Davis for four times. It was a good group. I enjoyed it and all
that. I came in one day and Kai Winding was there so I said ahh, see you later. So I went
down the hall and auditioned for Benny Goodman and I went with the bebop band.
MR: Oh my. EB: You know, with Wardell Gray and them.
Because they were right in the same place, you know, Nola's. But you know Junior Collins
that played with the Nonet? MR: Yeah.
EB: About 20 years later I saw him on the street and he said, "hey I ever tell you what
I told Miles you said?" I said, "no, what'd you tell him I said?" He said, "I told him
you said the band was out of tune." So 20 years later you find out why you were replaced.
MR: Oh my. EB: So I said, "What'd you do that for?" He
said, "ahh it was getting boring." MR: Jeez. And Benny was - was he making a
conscious effort to maybe get a little more modern with that group?
EB: Maybe he was I don't know. I don't know where he had that idea. I mean he didn't fit
in. But somehow he wanted to do that. Wardell was great.
MR: What was it like to work with Benny, or get along with him?
EB: Not like Stan. Well all the stories are true.
MR: Yeah they're all true? EB: Oh yeah.
MR: Okay. EB: Well he took us out to California and
said we were going to be there six months. Guys subletted their apartments. I had a cheap
apartment so I didn't sublet it. After six weeks he says, "I'm going to Lake Mead and
I'm going fishing. And then we're going up and down the coast for about a week or two
and then we're going back to New York." What about the six months? So guys jumped off.
Milt Bernhart was on the band. He's from California so he just jumped off. Nick Travis drove back
in a day and a half to Philadelphia, he got so mad. Straight through.
MR: Did you have your family with you? EB: Yeah.
MR: Oh man. EB: But it was lucky I didn't sublet my apartment,
I could send them back. MR: Did your kids have a sense of what you
did for a living? EB: Well they knew what I did, I don't know.
Every time I'd go out they'd say, "have fun." I'd say, "what do you mean, I'm going to work."
They still say that. Well I have fun but it's still, I don't want to let them know that.
MR: Good thinking. You want them to think that dad is working.
EB: Yeah. Somehow they knew. MR: Right. You had your own, some Monday nights
at Birdland. EB: Well for a while I had my own group. In
other words, when I was going to school, you know that Manhattan School of Music, I got
a group together. I had Duke Jordan on piano all the time and Sidney Dean on alto, a variety
of drummers. I had a lot of different drummers. Osie Johnson, Gus Johnson, Eddie Shaughnessy,
Joe Morello. And I worked Birdland and The Bohemia and we worked around Connecticut and
around Jersey. So in fact I did an album called "Kaleidoscope" which hasn't been put out on
CD, and that was that group. And it was - we had a lot of original material. I have some
tapes that I did of that and which I'd like to get out too but so far I haven't gotten
them out. MR: Was there ever any issues about integrated
bands at the time? EB: No.
MR: Not in New York? EB: No.
MR: That's good. EB: No I always worked that way. It's what
you play. It has nothing to do with the other thing. So I never got into that.
MR: Good. Tell me about, if you would, the Charles Mingus Jazz Workshop.
EB: Well I met Charles when I was with Benny Goodman the first time. We were in San Francisco
and Clyde Lombardi, the bass player with Red, you know Red's small band, well we were with
Benny at the time. Yeah it was Benny's band. Clyde was on Benny's band. And he said, "there's
a bass player I want to hear down in the International Quarter." I said, "okay, I'll go with you."
So we went. They had four basses and drums. Right? And Mingus is playing lead bass. So
that's how I met him. And the next time I heard of him he had joined Red's trio in 1950
and they were going back to play The Embers. He had been in California. Tal Farlo and Mingus.
So anyway Mingus got established in New York and he started this workshop. He and Teo Macero.
And we used to rehearse quite a bit. And it was all original material. And eventually
- I'm shortening it - Mingus got his own thing. I did an album with him at The Bohemia. It
was me, George Barrow, Mal Waldron and Willie Jones. It was in '55. And Debut, eventually,
I mean they put it out but it eventually got to Atlantic and went to a whole bunch of different
albums. It was put out many times. MR: Kind of piecemeal, or under different
titles? EB: Yeah. And eventually Fantasy put out an
eleven CD album of all the Debut stuff. And it said, I had read a review and they said
there was eleven tracks that were never issued of The Bohemia stuff. So I called Fantasy
Records and I said, "can you send me a cassette of the eleven tracks?" "Oh no, we can't break
up the - you know, you've got to buy the whole thing." So I said, "well I'm on it, can you
do anything?" So they said, "well we'll give it to you for five dollars a CD." So I said
okay. It came to sixty bucks. I wanted to hear some of the stuff from Debut anyway.
So I got the thing, and I looked up what I made for the date. Sixty bucks.
MR: Ooh. Yeah. EB: So I came out even.
MR: That's very interesting. Did he have a certain amount of - I should rephrase that
- did he require some things from his sidemen that other leaders wouldn't?
EB: Well yeah. I mean he wanted you to play his music. And the way you played his music
with a small group, he didn't write it out. You go up to his apartment and he'd play it
for you on the piano, and you'd learn it in your head. And that's how you learned it.
Because he said, "if I write it out you're going to play it different," which you do.
If it's written out you play it different. But if you get it in your head and you play
it like you want to play it. And he says, "play it your way." He didn't say any specific
thing. Here it is. Like for instance "Jump Monk." When I first learned that, it was by
rote. I just learned it. And when we went on The Bohemia, there was no music.
MR: No music. EB: And he'd change things during the night,
you know change little things. You'd be playing and he's singing in your ear, "play this,"
and he's singing. So you play it as he's singing it.
MR: Cool. EB: Oh yeah.
MR: You had to be on your toes. EB: Oh yeah.
MR: Gosh. Very interesting. Did they ever record, was it the Town Hall concert or something?
EB: Yeah. '62. MR: Right.
EB: Yeah they recorded that. But what happened was they pushed the date up a month, which
hung him up about writing the music. That's when he punched Jimmy Knepper in the mouth.
And I asked Jimmy how did that happen. He said he was copying music for him and he went
up to bring him some music and Mingus says, "write me something." So he says, "it's your
concert, it's not my concert." Bamm. You know. MR: I guess he was under a little pressure.
EB: Well yeah. But Jimmy didn't play the concert. He wasn't in the band. But he was doing the
copying I guess. MR: The concert was kind of a rough affair,
wasn't it? EB: Well we ended up, we were rehearsing while
the audience was there. And then he went out and made this announcement, he said, "ladies
and gentlemen this is a recording it's not a concert so if you want to get your money
back go to the box office." And the producer's in the back saying what is he talking about?
And half the audience left. But they had copyists copying the music while we were rehearsing
it on the spot. And they were recording it. It ended up so like this - and then the stagehand
said, "it's eleven o'clock and eleven o'clock we're pulling the curtain." So like that ended
that. So like I don't know, either Clark Terry or Ernie Royal went - and we started playing
"Mellow Tone." And that was the last tune on the concert. And as I went off I had a
plunger and I went - and it's on the tape. I mean it was all like tension.
MR: Was Mingus even still on stage at that point?
EB: I don't know. I wanted to get out of there before they threw the tomatoes or something.
MR: Or something worse. Wow. EB: It was a fiasco.
MR: You've got a history. I'm telling you, this is great.
EB: But they put the album out and it won an international critic's award. So figure
that one out. And they had all the wrong titles. Nothing matched up. They called "Mellow Tone"
"Sequence Two" or some weird title. I brought the music home because it was so hard, I said
I've got to study this. It was impossible. So I've still got some of it home, on onion
skin. MR: Here's a piece I hope - whoops, I think
I went the wrong way - from about that time. EB: Yeah that's Monk. Yeah.
MR: Now - that's good stuff. It's interesting when you say that Hall Overton caught the
spirit. Because those those dissonances in there, would Monk have told him to do that?
EB: I have no idea what Monk told him. But whatever he did -because you can't write like
what could I say - normal - you've got to write like Monk played it. And he don't play
all the notes in the chord. You know he just plays specific notes. That's how he gets that
sound. And you've got to know which ones to leave out. Otherwise it don't sound like Monk
at all. MR: What was it about the way you played that
you were able to find your way into - I'm not asking this very well, but you've participated
in what we now consider to be some important, historical situations.
EB: Yeah. MR: And I'm wondering what was it about your
playing or your personality or both that found your way into those things?
EB: I don't know. Something happened I guess. Lucky I guess.
MR: Lucky? EB: Yeah.
MR: But you must have had a quick ear and ability to deal with those sometimes chaotic
situations - it wasn't just reading the notes. EB: Yeah well you have to adapt yourself to
what's going on you know. I guess that's what it is. Because each band is different. It's
not like that now. Everything is like one level, there's no waves. But in those days
there was all kinds of stuff going on. I mean Mingus had his personality and Monk had his
personality, Benny Goodman had his personality, Stan Kenton, Woody. I mean they were all different.
So when you joined the band you had to fit in with that situation.
MR: What did you think of the bebop era when it came in, and was it called bebop at the
time or maybe that was after the fact. EB: Yeah I think the critics give boxes to
things. It was an evolution, not a revolution. I mean it just happened. We used to go out
and blow, and you'd be blowing like that, but when you come into the band you had to
fit in with the band and you had to disregard a lot of that stuff. But eventually it came
out with the small groups, you know, Charlie Parker and Dizzy and all them. Dizzy's band
could do that and also Billy Eckstine's band. I mean they played that way, but not the general
bands. MR: What happened to the audience for the
music during - oh gosh, mid 50s I guess. EB: Well I guess it got to be concerts instead
of dancing. The dancing is just starting to come back now, the last few years. But bands
in the early days played for dancing. Even Duke and Basie and all them, I mean they played
for dancing. But then it got to be concerts and the dances went another direction.
MR: Do you think that was a good or bad thing? EB: It wasn't good. I'd much rather play for
dancing. I like to see people dancing and enjoying themselves. I mean concerts are kind
of a drag. MR: So we've kind of made the music into a
high art I guess. EB: Yeah. Right. I mean I don't know if anybody
understands that. It's like a language. bebop, so-called bebop, that's a language. It's a
way of - we're talking to each other when we're playing. That's what it is.
MR: And talking fast sometimes. EB: Yeah, right.
MR: Tell me a little bit more about recording with Thelonious Monk. Was it like other sessions
you've done? EB: No. But we had a lot of rehearsal. We
rehearsed quite a bit. And just those concerts, he never did a tour with the band or anything
like that. I've been touring with the Monk All-Stars lately, the last few years, Johnny
Griffin and Phil Woods and Ben Riley. And Monk never did that. I think he went to Europe
one time. I didn't go with him. Jimmy Cleveland went with him. But that's about the only time
that he used that big band other than the Lincoln Center and the Town Hall. I mean he
did a Carnegie Hall but they never recorded that.
MR: Oh. Too bad. EB: Yeah.
MR: And I see you're now working with his son on occasion?
EB: Yeah. MR: That's great.
EB: Yeah we did a thing called "Monk on Monk" where he had about 25 people come in as stars,
come in and write. And I was on that. In fact that CD, if you play it on a computer you
get visuals. MR: Oh. Great.
EB: Yeah. It was something new in those days, a couple of years ago - those days.
MR: Right. CD ROM I guess they call it. EB: Something like that.
MR: Do you still get, I guess they call it residuals? Stuff from ASCAP? You don't get
any - I don't know if it's the right word. EB: Once in a while I get it for a tune.
MR: A tune. EB: Yeah. But when they re-issue anything,
you don't get anything. You know how many re-issues there are?
MR: Yeah. EB: And it went through, like for me it went
through 78s, EPs, LPs, now CDs. They're all different mediums. And we don't get paid for
any of them. MR: Wow. So some of those things have had
several lives. Wow that's too bad. EB: Oh yeah. One CD that I got paid extra
for was "Mingus and His Friends." They put out two CDs. It came out originally on one
LP. And the producer called me, Bob Belden. And he said, "how much did you rehearse?"
Because he knows I keep track of all that. And I told him and there were extra tracks
put out and I got a nice check. MR: Excellent.
EB: That's about the only one though. Generally they don't even send you the album. I mean
at least they could send you the album. I've got to go buy the album.
MR: That's low. EB: Yeah I went to - some Elliott Lawrence
thing came out and I went to one of these record stores and I said, "Can I get any break,
I'm on it, there's my name" I said, "I'm on it." "Oh we'll give you ten percent off."
But I mean the record company can't send you an album?
MR: You've toured overseas some? EB: Yeah.
MR: You went to, was it Russia with the Louis Armstrong-
EB: Oh yeah. For a month. I went through with Dick Hyman.
MR: What was it like playing in Russia? EB: They loved it.
MR: Yeah? EB: Yeah. Great. It was a great band. With
that band you get the feeling like when you go on the road with a band and you get tight.
That only happens on the road. And that month it happened. It was great. But it doesn't
happen too much anymore. MR: It seems to be that it's really hard,
whether from economics or whatever, for people to have bands.
EB: I know. MR: To keep anybody together, to gel.
EB: Yeah, right. Yeah it doesn't happen too often anymore. I'm working with a band now,
George Gee, and it's been together for about fifteen years. I mean it's spasmodic, you
know, working here and there. But we went to Zurich and worked this past summer. And
it was great. MR: What's the fellow's name?
EB: George Gee. Yeah he plays for swing dancing a lot. But it's a good band. In fact the first
night in Zurich we played in the train station and the other band was Basie. So Basie's band
and George Gee. MR: Wow. Like the old Savoy days, huh?
EB: Yeah. It was great. MR: Cool. Tell me about, you've written a
few tunes too in your life. And they've been, most of them inspired by particular things?
EB: Different things, yeah. MR: Yeah? Like what?
EB: Well when I was going to school I used to ride the subway and you'd hear the click
clack and all that, so I wrote a thing called "Little Train." Things like that. But in fact
I have an album I'll give you that I made with just bass and most of the tunes that
I wrote are on it, and Don Sickler, who is a publisher, put out a lead sheet book, so
you can have that if you want. MR: Excellent. When you did your tunes, your
recordings, back in the 50s, if you had put your own tune on it, you'd get a little extra
money? EB: Naa. Once in a while I see, like I get
a check with a whole bunch of countries listed, and a check for like $4.95 or something. BMI.
MR: I see. EB: But I guess I'm lucky to get anything.
So they're still playing them somewhere. MR: What's your view on the music scene these
days? EB: Well you've just got to try to make a
living nowadays. It's kind of rough. Not like before when there was that many bands and
things were happening. You don't even see people in New York. There used to be - we
used to get places to meet and all that, and that doesn't happen anymore.
MR: What was your - if you look back on your career, was there a series of years that you,
in retrospect would say, that's when I was the busiest or that's when I was really enjoying
myself the most? EB: Well as far as putting albums out, I had
seven albums out in the 50s. It was a great time. But I didn't follow it up because of
the family. You know you'd have to go on the road and stay on the road and all that, so
I didn't want to do that. I just stayed in New York and did recordings and jingles and
things like that, which was a good living. MR: When you would go to do a jingle date,
you don't know what to expect when you walk in to those things, right? You sit down and
use your reading skills? EB: Yeah.
MR: Sometimes you might not even know what the product is?
EB: No. It's all - do it then. But it works. You get used to it.
MR: And is this pretty much stuff that's done through the union?
EB: No. The union doesn't have anything to do with it. It's your connections. The union
just collects their work dues. MR: Oh gosh. What's in the near future for
you? I know you're doing Bobby Short. EB: Yeah well it's just day to day. I do what
I can. A lot of rehearsal bands and stuff to keep chops. But that's what you have to
do, and then do a lot of traveling. You know last Friday I worked in Morristown, New Jersey
and that's like 100 miles each way. And what was it yesterday, no day before yesterday
I worked in Lambertville, which is outside of New Hope. That was 150 miles each way.
And then I make some rehearsal bands, I do a rehearsal in Emerson, New Jersey, that's
65 miles each way. That's no pay. That's a rehearsal. Then I rehearse with another band
in Berlin, Connecticut, and that's 45 miles each way.
MR: Looks like you've got your mileage down anyway.
EB: Oh yeah. MR: Well looking at this list of bands and
I'm trying to think of someone you haven't played with. Is there somebody that you wish
you had played with? EB: Yeah, Duke. I had three chances to go
with him. The first one was when Oscar Pettiford was in the band and I had worked with Oscar
on Charlie Barnet's band. He had two basses believe it or not, Chubby Jackson and Oscar.
And that didn't last too long because Chubby one day came to Oscar and said, "we're going
down front with our basses and we're going to do a dance." So Oscar says, "I'm a bass
player, bye." And he split. MR: I could see Chubby doing that but probably
not Oscar. EB: Yeah. But anyway he wanted to get me on
the band, but that was in 1952 and I was trying to get established in New York and I couldn't
do that. Too bad. And another time, like I said, I was using Duke Jordan on piano and
one of my daughters in the morning she said to me, "somebody, Duke called you and wanted
to know something." So I said, "Well I don't have any work right now," you know, for Duke.
She said, "No, not that Duke, the Duke you have all the records of." I said, "You mean
Duke Ellington?" She says, "Yeah." He wanted me to go to the Howard Theater in Washington.
Evidently Lawrence Brown had gotten sick. But it was already too late. You know it was
the morning. And then the next time his sister called, Ruth, and said, "Duke wants you to
do the Far East and Australia" and all that. So I said I just got called for the Dick Cavett
Show. So when he came to do "The Dick Cavett Show" with Mercer and Cootie, he was on the
show, and I knew he was coming and I had gone to a stamp guy that I dealt with and they
had put out "Toga." They put two stamps of his out. One was purple and one was green.
I told the stamp guy if he can ever get sheets of them, you know. About three months later
I walk in the store and he says, "I got the sheets." I said, "What sheets?" He said, "Duke
Ellington." "What?" So I got two sheets. So I brought them to the show. And I said, "Hey,
would you sign them things for me?" He said, "Would you speak out, I can use the publicity."
So he signed the sheets. And then he said, "We missed you." And I said well you see what
I've got to do, and he said yeah, I know what you've got to do. I mean that was four years
work with Dick Cavett, right in town. But I still would have liked to have gone with
the band. MR: Well this has been marvelous talking to
you. I don't know if there's something that you'd like to talk about that I haven't asked.
EB: Well you asked quite a bit of stuff. I can't think of anything off hand.
MR: I'm glad you didn't become a baseball catcher.
EB: Yeah, me too. After I heard Lester, that did it.
MR: That's really interesting too that you happened to hit upon that first recording.
EB: I know it. And I had no idea who it was because Jones-Smith, that doesn't tell you
anything. But I found out. MR: Wow. Well I'm glad you played the trombone
instead of the tenor sax, because you've played with so many great people. Best of luck and
keep doing it. EB: Well you know I bought a tenor just to
see what "Blue and Sentimental" would feel like playing. And this guy that has a music
store in New Haven, Sol Libro, he called me for a gig and he says, "You'll never find
it, you better meet me at the store." So I said okay I'll show up early. So I brought
the tenor and I brought it in the store. And he says, "What's that?" I said, "My tenor."
He says, "I thought you played trombone?" So I said "Really?"
MR: You put him on. EB: So he'd had a heart attack recently so
I said wait a minute, I just wanted you to evaluate the horn. MR: Thanks for bringing your material here.
