We are filming today for the Hamilton College
Jazz Archive in Los Angeles. I'm very privileged to have Ms. Vi Redd with
me. I am very pleased to have you here today. VR: And I'm very happy to be here. MR: And you look appropriate for Valentine's
Day too. VR: I should say. MR: You look great. VR: All in red, huh? Just like my name but it's two D's. MR: I've been reading about the L.A. jazz
scene recently, and your family, you and your brother and your father, come up so often. VR: And my aunt, Mrs. Hightower. MR: Yes. It's quite amazing. You must have had music in your house from
your first memory. VR: Right. As far back as I can remember there was music
in the house. Somebody was playing, people were coming from
Louisiana who might have had some hard luck or something and they were coming to stay
with us for a time, then of course my aunt, Mrs. Hightower, she stayed with us. You know they had extended families quite
a bit then. And my mother used to say, when I'd say, "There's
too much noise in the house." And she'd say, "Why Lloyd Reese used to rehearse
a twelve piece band in the living room. So what do you mean?" And I'm sure you've heard of Lloyd Reese also. MR: Yes. So he rehearsed in your living room. VR: He used to rehearse, my dad played with
him too for a while, and they'd have rehearsals there at the house. MR: And your father came from New Orleans? VR: Uh huh. Daddy was born in Baton Rouge, Baton Rouge
as they say. But he grew up and spent most of his childhood
in New Orleans until he came west with my grandmother. MR: What was the reason for coming west? Did he ever talk about it? VR: She came out cooking. She was cooking for a family, and she'd had
a restaurant in Baton Rouge, and this is what I was told, that's why they came out, and
for more opportunities. MR: What directed you to first of all singing? VR: First of all singing, well, my aunt, Mrs.
Hightower, I mean you did everything with her you know, and as I recall, the first time
I ever appeared in a church, and there was so many churches we went to, First Day AME
- it a very popular, well known church here in Los Angeles now. It was formerly called Aithen Town, but now
it's First Day AME. It's been very active in all the social programs,
and Pastor Murphy is a wonderful minister there. But I must have been about five or six when
I sang, and that's the first time I sang "I will make you fishes and men if you follow
me." And I remember that singing in the church
for the first time. And then after that there was piano and then
there was the instruments and so forth. But we all sang. MR: You had mentioned a tune that you can
recall. VR: Oh that was later. MR: That was later? VR: That was later. We had a friend that came from Louisiana and
- one of my mother's classmates, her name was Maeola Gibbons. And she was going to Southern University or
something at the time and she had some bad luck or something. She came and she stayed with us and she played
beautiful piano. And she used to play this song called "Never
Should Have Told You." And she'd sit there and play, and she was
a very attractive woman, and that's when I kind of felt like I wanted to sing too. When I heard [sings] Never should have told
you/That you're marvelous - and so forth and so on. MR: So were you a singer before you were a
saxophone player? VR: It was all going on at the same time. It was all going on at the same time. Maybe singing first, because I didn't start
the saxophone until I was about twelve, thirteen. But I had piano and I regret to this day that
I didn't keep it. I can play just to teach myself songs or things,
but I didn't keep up on it. I was always trying something new. "Try this. You like this? Play the clarinet." So I ended up with the alto saxophone and
the soprano saxophone. And when I was in college I took flute, and
oh boy that knocked me to my knees. That was very difficult for me, especially
the last register, and I don't think I can play it today. MR: The high one or the low one? VR: The high one. Yeah. I just could never- and then I was busy playing
for dances. I had a little band then and Eric Dolphy was
in the flute class, and I said I'll never be able to play this thing you know. I had such a hard time with that flute that
I said oh forget it. You know when you're like 18, 19, what do
you think about the future so to speak. MR: Right. Well Eric did all right with the flute. VR: I should say he did. Yes he did. MR: The music that was played in your house
off the records, was it a combination of things? VR: Yes. Because my aunt loved Duke Ellington, and
of course we loved Nat King Cole and it's very interesting too, because I have a cousin
now that I see often. In those days some of the families frowned
on jazz, as some of them still do unfortunately. It's very, very sad to know that they made
these wonderful contributions and people would call it the devil's music. But I was blessed in that. I didn't come up in that kind of environment. And I had a Christian home, but my aunt, Mrs.
Hightower, who had been in vaudeville and knew Sam and Hattie McDaniel, in fact Sam
McDaniel used to work with my father. You know we were all about the arts too. This was important to my family. So we heard some of all kinds of music, and
when she would teach us we'd play marches, we'd play overtures, we'd play jazz - just
all kinds of music. And she adored Duke Ellington's music. So I heard some of everything coming up. And Carl used to come over because his mother
used to say, "Don't bring that jazz in here." He just wanted to hear Nat King Cole, you
know. But he'd have to come to our house to hear
it. And I'm very grateful for that experience. MR: And your aunt taught in the public school
system? VR: No. She taught in the public schools down south,
but when she came to Los Angeles she taught privately, but she filled up the public schools
with her students. Many, many, many of them. MR: And some well known people including yourself. VR: Right, right. Melba - Melba Liston, Dexter Gordon took lessons
from Aunt Alma. In fact Dexter's father was her doctor. Dexter's father was a doctor and his brother
was a dentist. And she just was the greatest teacher in the
world. And I used to wonder, how did she learn so
much? Where did she get all of this knowledge that
she gave us? She was a most unusual woman, a special woman,
Alma Julia Webster - my family was Websters on my dad's side - Alma Julia Webster Hightower
was her name. She was about, she wasn't five feet, not very
tall about four-nine, with little tiny feet and hands, but just - could roll a drum like
Art Blakey. She was a phenomenal woman. MR: Just had a kind of all-encompassing feel
for music. VR: Right. And not only music, she taught dancing. She taught dancing and she taught my late
brother, she taught him a lot of the Bert William materials. And she was just something else. I've never known any other woman like her. MR: Yeah. How did swing music affect your father's profession
as a drummer? He started out as a Dixieland oriented drummer? VR: Well I guess it was all meshed for him. I mean and it's kind of hard to divide the
idioms. Daddy played with Kid Ory, he played with
Les Hite, in fact Daddy took - when Les Hite, no when Benny Goodman, Lionel Hampton went
to join Benny Goodman, Daddy took his place in the band. MR: With Les Hite. VR: With Les Hite, yeah. And he played with all different kinds of
- then his last gig, his really last gig was at Disneyland, the Young Men From New Orleans,
so I guess he sort of went back to the traditional. But Teddy Edwards always mentions that during
the early bop era, when it was coming through in Los Angeles, Daddy would be on gigs and
the guys, some of the other guys that would be working with Daddy would say, "Get those
guys out of here, those boppers, we don't want to hear those boppers." And he said Daddy was always so tolerant. He said, "Yeah, let the guys play, you know,
I'll play with them." He and a gentleman by the name of Poison Gardner,
he said they always took up for them. Teddy Edwards always tells me that. "Your dad was so nice" he said. Everybody would run us out but Alton. My father was a wonderful man. MR: That's such an interesting thing-
VR: Benevolent man. MR: With bop music, that it had such an effect. I mean some people just loved it, and then
others- VR: Others went nuts. Well we danced to it. MR: How did he feel about you - aspirations
as a career in music? VR: He wasn't too happy about it. Because I really didn't start off to have
a career in music. You just were going to play something. You're going to do music. And then by the time I got out of high school
I wanted to teach music. And my first two years in college that's what
I started out to be, a music teacher, and then I switched. But all during this time I was performing. For dances I had a band around town called
the Futuristic Five, and I was just talking to my friend the other night, I think I was
one of the first women around L.A. during that time, early '50s and late '40s that had
a band, had nerve enough to get a band. So Martha Young played piano, that was Lee
and Lester Young's niece, and my brother played drums, and Walter Benton, a very fine tenor
player which you might have heard of, has been in ill health some years recently, he
played tenor, and I played alto and sang and got the gigs. MR: All right. VR: Morris Edwards was the bass player. He lives in New York now. I mean that was really something in the early
50s. MR: What did your song list consist of at
that time? VR: Oh we were playing Diz's things, we were
playing "Good Bait" we were playing let's see, oh boy, some of the popular things, like
things that Jessie Belvin might be singing, in fact Jessie Belvin, the late Jessie Belvin,
he would come in and sit in and sing with us sometimes, and we played Tea - we had a
version of "Tea for Two" that I know would have been a million seller. MR: If you could have got it recorded? VR: Oh yes, yes, yes. And we did "There's a Small Hotel" and [scats]
oh we had a deal on that going. And let me see I sang "Don't Blame Me," with
the Sarah Vaughan influence and let's see what else. MR: During World War II, when a lot of the
fellows were in the service, did that make a difference for the opportunities for women? VR: Well see I was still in school then. I didn't really start until '48, that's when
I got out of high school. But see I wasn't playing then. My father wouldn't let me come in the clubs,
that was taboo. You know at that age. I got started really like in the early 50s,
and the late - oh '48, '49 is when I got my little band together and I started playing
all these sorority events and things like that. Sororities, fraternity dances, we used to
play over at the place call the Alpha Bowling Club. It's a church now. And I'd play one night and Hampton Hawes would
have a band there the other night. And the war thing, when the war was going
on, I was in school see? So I wasn't out there trying to compete for
jobs. My father was really active at that time. And he did well. MR: When was your first opportunity to record? VR: My first opportunity to record was in
1962 I believe. Leonard Feather came to hear me play one time. He was very impressed with my playing. And then Art Blakey, my former husband, Richie
Goldberg, was a drummer, and he knew all the musicians from back east, and when he came
out here, we married out here and everybody would end up at our house one time or the
other for me to fix spaghetti and chili and stuff. But anyway, that's when I met Art Blakey. And Art Blakey asked me to come and sit in
with him one night. And it was at a place called the Renaissance,
which is now the House of Blues. And so I took my horn, and ironically Dexter
was there that night too, and we had a great time. And Alan Douglas from United Artists was there
and he heard me, and he decided to record me for United Artists and Leonard was in the
middle of it, and that was my first major recording. The album was called "Bird Calls" it's a collector's
item now, whatever that means. MR: Did you have control over what you wanted
to play on that record? VR: Well for that date, for some strange reason,
Leonard thought that the timbre or the sound of my instrument was much like Bird, and I
heard that, and I don't know how to even say that, you know, he was such a master of the
instrument. And so he came up with the idea of "Bird Calls"
and I did most of the tunes that Bird had done at one time - "Anthropology," "Old Folks,"
oh what else is on there "Just Friends." But now Bird played "Just Friends" but I just
sang it. I had excellent musicians to work with, Leroy
Vinnegar and Russ Freeman, Richie Goldberg was on drums, Bobby Whitlock - I had good
support so I didn't have to play every single one. And I did sing "If I Should Lose You" - I
did that on there too, a song that I had heard in my childhood that I always liked. This same lady used to play that song. It's an old song. An old song. MR: Were there opportunities that weren't
available to you, traveling with like perhaps the big bands and so forth? VR: Well the only time that I really traveled
with the band was much later, in the late 60s, when I went to Europe with Basie. And let me see it was after Joe Williams had
left and they needed somebody, they needed somebody that could sing the blues, and I
mostly sang rather than playing, those guys had some problems with me playing. But that's the only time - oh well let's see
I'll go back a little bit. The first time I went out on the road was
in the 50s with a gentleman that's still very dear to me, his name is Dick Hart. And he was very nice about really hiring women
musicians too, he'd always have a woman in the band. So I went to places like South Dakota and
Montana - you know that was my first experience like traveling someplace. But later on, as I said, I went with Basie
on a tour of Europe in '68. We were gone, let's see, I think I was gone
for about 18 days, something like that. It's been quite a while ago. It was great fun. Then before that, when I first went to Europe,
I went as a single and then I played with European musicians. I was at Ronnie Scott's and I worked two weeks
opposite Ben Webster, then two weeks opposite Max Road, then two weeks opposite Archie Shepp,
and four weeks opposite Coleman Hawkins. So I really had the whole history of jazz
right there. You see I went over as a singer to get around
this thing they had, the British had- MR: Oh they had a ban or something. VR: A ban, yes. So they said I was a singer. Leonard Feather told them I was a singer that
played the saxophone every now and then. But when I started playing they said uh huh. The union over there said no, you're a saxophone
player, and you've got to join the union. So I did. MR: You joined the musician's union over there? VR: Over there, yeah, in England, I had to. MR: That reminds me of something I wanted
to ask you about and that is the union here in L.A.
VR: I still belong. MR: Right. VR: It's called the Professional Musicians,
but I don't think it's very effective for - I think it sort of caters to the studio
musicians, you know. I imagine in years past I think it was more
beneficial when there were more clubs open and more jazz musicians were working. There used to be a business agent there who
was a friend of my father, named Elmer Fane. And then later Jimmy Clark. And they kind of monitored the clubs. But I haven't been particularly - I keep up
my membership. I should be a life member by now, but they
don't particularly do anything for the musicians, unless it's on a large scale. I know like if you're playing in the orchestra
for the Academy Awards or something like that, they get your checks for that. But the musicians that are out playing jazz
and jazz concerts and things, it doesn't appear to me that they're doing that much at this
- now they may be doing some things that I'm not aware of, but I don't see it much. I don't know when I've seen a union agent
come in a club. MR: It was a pretty significant event when
the two unions merged? VR: Right. MR: Some people, it seems like I've read that
that wasn't a positive thing for everyone concerned. VR: At the time there was quite a bit of confusion
about it. Many of the black musicians kind of got lost
in the - that union over there on Central Avenue, and I worked in it briefly when I
was in college with Florence Kadries. Oh gosh, now you don't have enough time for
me to go there. MR: Sure I do. VR: No you don't. That was like headquarters. Florence Kadries, that's where Norman Granz
got his first seven musicians. Florence Kadries was the secretary/treasurer
to that union. She was a wonderful woman. A wonderful woman. Piano player. She played a lot for choirs too. And her mother and my grandmother were very
close friends. And everybody just loved Florence Kadries. And of course Paul Howard worked there, who
earlier had the Quality Serenaders. Did you ever hear of them? The Quality Serenaders? MR: No, afraid I haven't. VR: Paul Howard, and oh it was just like headquarters
to all of the black musicians. You know they went there. And it appears as though when there was a
merger, at first they kind of got lost in the shuffle. But then as time progressed and as the Civil
Rights movement was becoming more and more prominent, they started to hire. Well Florence worked there for a while, and
Elmer Thane worked there and Paul Howard even worked there. They took a few of the people that had been
there a long time. And of course Buddy Collette was on the board,
he might still be. But it had its problems, and I guess they
just kind of worked themselves out. MR: Did the musicians' union have a place
where the bands could come and rehearse? VR: Right. They still have it now. MR: You kind of have a social get together. VR: Right. Now that's another thing I think, the geographics
of when they merged. Everything was flowing along Central Avenue
sort of. It was sort of the decline but there were
a lot of musicians that still lived on the east side, a lot of black musicians, and that
was right at Washington and Central you know, whereas if you want to fraternize you'd have
to go all the way to Hollywood. You see what I'm saying? MR: Right. VR: And that was kind of a problem too. And some of the white musicians were very
hesitant about socializing and that probably made it more difficult for some of them to
feel at home. Because at 767 as it was called, everybody
hung out and they played cards and that kind of thing. But I'm sure it has improved. MR: So even though it was a positive let's
say social step, it's almost like they closed your building. VR: Yes, they did. They closed the building, then it was sold. I think the building was sold, and I don't
know how they figured out the finances, I really don't remember that. But Morrell Young and Buddy Collette, they
were really involved in it. MR: You had an opportunity to play with Dizzy
Gillespie? VR: Yes, at the Newport Jazz Festival in 1968
I did, and that was a thrill, and I got to know him as a person. And I got to know Mahalia Jackson, because
when I went to Europe with Basie she was just so taken aback about me playing and singing
with the band. She remarked to me, "Hey girl, whatchya doin'
up there? Don't you know I'm the star?" And she would call me, and we got to be good
friends, whenever she called or came out to L.A. And Sarah, she was a friend of mine and
I thank God that I have had the pleasure of really knowing some of the finest people in
jazz. Carmen McRae was my buddy, and Hazel Scott,
I met Hazel when she came out to Los Angeles. Let's see that was about, before I moved where
I'm living now. I met Hazel in about 1970, and we became like
sisters. And I'm very grateful to have known the musicians
that I know - Max and Eric Dolphy of course, I've known him since school days. I'm playing a mouthpiece he gave me before
he left Los Angeles. MR: What kind of mouthpiece is it, just for
a technical question. VR: It's a Brillhart. MR: Who do you name as your basic influences
or people that you looked up to on the saxophone? VR: Well you can't speak about the alto saxophone
unless you say Charlie Parker, Bird Parker. At the time when - I saw Bird one time, in
that 767 when he came in there when he had some union problem see. You know he wasn't concerned about a union
card or whatever, but he came to Los Angeles and he didn't have his union card, and the
Mr. Elmer Thane said, "Oh you can't play" blah-blah-blah-blah-blah. And he came and I was working there that day,
and he asked Florence, "Florence, please ask Thane to give me my card." He was so humble. That's the only time I ever saw him. And he had such a humble spirit. And I said, "Florence, is that Bird? Is that Yardbird?" She said, "Yeah, that's Bird." But I never got a chance to hear him play,
you know? I never got a chance. But in some strange way his music was in the
air, and it influenced me and so many others. And of course I liked - who was this guy,
Tab Smith? MR: Tab Smith? VR: And Sonny Stitt was a good player. I got to know him later on. We played together one night in Chicago in
the 70s. But I don't know, music, who influenced me,
the whole nine yards, it just seems like osmosis. It's just I can't say that I tried to play
like somebody or I tried to sing like somebody, it was just whatever I did it just happened
sort of. I like vocalists very much, because my aunt
used to make us, when we had to play a solo, she used to make us learn the lyrics to the
song. And she'd say, "You're supposed to play like
you're singing." So I always did. I liked Billy Eckstine very much and I hope
that explains it. MR: Yes it does. VR: Does it? MR: And that's good advice about knowing the
lyrics to a song. VR: Right. And Buddy Collette paid me a wonderful compliment
once. My dad gave him his first job. And he told me when I was playing one time,
he says, "You know what? You play a melody just like Frank Sinatra
sings." And I said, "Oh really?" And he said, "You're singing all the time." And I said yeah, well my aunt made us learn,
if you're going to play [sings] In my solitude you haunt me. We had to learn that. We had to learn. And I said I don't know it, I just want to
play it, and she'd say, "No, learn all those lyrics." And I think that's good for instrumentalists. As they say, the saxophone is sort of like
an extension of the human voice. I've heard that said. I don't know if it's true why a trumpet wouldn't
be, but I have done that. MR: Was your soprano playing something that
you carried through your whole career? VR: When I had my band, I used to like to
play Latin music with the soprano. And it wasn't that popular then, when I first
started my orchestra about 1951 or something like that, and I have a soprano now that I
don't play much because for some reason the mouthpiece doesn't work right. MR: It's hard to keep them in tune. VR: Oh isn't it though. My aunt used to call them a fish horn. Yeah, she's say in New Orleans when the fish
man was coming around, he had a soprano saxophone. That's what she told me. And he's play the fish horn. MR: Is it a straight one. VR: Yeah. I have a straight one. But I have played the curved one. But I have trouble with it. I don't know maybe I need a new one. I was talking to Wayne Shorter about it, but
they're so terribly expensive nowadays. MR: Yes, they sure are. VR: You used to get one in the pawn shop for
fifteen dollars, but not anymore. You can't get anything in the pawn shop for
fifteen dollars. MR: Oh that's interesting. Can we talk about how you got into education? VR: Well I used to teach a couple of blind
students when I was in college and after a while my - let's see I graduated, at the time
I graduated I didn't have a teaching credential, I received my B.S. in social sciences, so
I had to go back to get the credential at USC. But then my oldest son, Charles Meeks, used
to say, "Mother, I'm tired of going to Nanna's" you know, when I'd go away to play. And one day that just stuck with me, I've
got to be home now with these guys, the two of them. So then I started teaching. And I still played. And I'd go like on Christmas breaks, two weeks,
you know spring break I'd go to Chicago or something like that. I was able to fuse it and keep working some
and then keeping steady money coming, you know with my teaching salary, which wasn't
the greatest but I enjoyed it. I enjoyed it and part of the time I taught
the special education children and then the other time I just taught regular - fifth grade
was my favorite grade. And of course I gave the kids a lot of music. I would teach theory to the children, music
theory. And that's how I really got off into education,
because my older son just sort of demanded, "Mother, we want you to stay home." MR: He wanted you to be there. VR: It's very ironic because I don't see him
that much now. MR: Right. How about, gosh you've had so many nice honors
here. VR: Oh yeah. MR: The Smithsonian, and you've also done
some lecturing at USC and UCLA. VR: Yes. Last quarter, the third quarter of last year
over at SC I was a lecturer on jazz and women in jazz. Last night I got a call from my grandson,
who's down at Hampton University in Virginia. And he said, "Nanna, guess what I'm doing?" He said, "I'm doing a paper for English on
women in jazz." He said, "Ella Fitzgerald, Sarah Vaughan and
you, Nanna." MR: Good company. VR: Yeah. He said "did you know?-" I said, "yeah you
know I knew Sarah." I didn't know - I'd met Ella once but I didn't
know her. He said yeah - and he was so excited. He said, "It's going to take five minutes
so before I finish it I'll call and read it to you." That's Charles' son, his name is Jamal Meeks. And he's taking music and business down at
Hampton. So he's interested in music. He's starting late taking music but it's in
the genes so I know it's coming out, it can't escape. MR: Yeah right. It's inevitable. VR: Right. MR: How do you feel about the history of how
women have been treated in the world of jazz? VR: Like they've been treated in other professions,
not too good. But it's improving as I see some of the younger
women musicians playing. Not a whole lot, but I saw, recently there
was some television shows that were using an all-women's band. But it was like a gimmick thing again, like
going back to that gimmick thing and I don't like that. Terri Lyne Carrington, she's a marvelous drummer. And the Bloom lady? MR: Jane Ira Bloom. VR: Uh huh. She's serious. And there's a violinist here, I speak to her
every now and then, can't think of her name right now. I think she's out of the road with, what's
this guy's name? He's real big in the New Age sound? MR: Oh, Yanni or one of those fellows? VR: Yes. She's playing with him now, Yanni. And of course there's Nedra Wheeler. Have you heard of Nedra? MR: No. VR: Oh she's a very fine bassist. Very fine bassist. She played with Elvin a couple of times when
he'd come to town. And she's traveled to Japan and about. But it's improved some, but just like I mean
for women, and then the gender thing and the race aspect, where black women are concerned,
we have two strikes, but it has improved, I'll say that. You'll run across a guy sometimes that don't
want you to play with them. A lady was asking me that. Her daughter was concerned because the guys
wouldn't let her play. I said, "Well just keep practicing, and just
get on up there and just play, push them out of the way." If they don't want you to play you just play
anyhow. And you always have the audience on your side. So just play. Practice and get good, and the more you play
the better you'll be. So that's it. You have to get kind of - you don't have to
particularly be masculine but you have to be forceful. MR: Aggressive. VR: Aggressive, that's the word. You have to be aggressive and say hey, I want
to be heard too you know? I still get snubs after all these years sometimes,
and I just get on up there and play and then after that then they say, "Oh, okay." MR: You have to prove yourself. VR: Right. Absolutely. MR: You had worked on a project with Benny
Powell? VR: Oh yeah, for the National Endowment. MR: Yes. VR: Oh what a great time we had. We were on the jazz panel for about three
years for the NEA, the National Endowment for the Arts, and we traveled to different
spots to where they were having problems with jazz or there was no funding or that kind
of thing. But now the NEA has been cut back so, you
know I can imagine the jazz program is really catching h-- now. I'm not too familiar with what they're doing
right now in the jazz program. But that's what Benny and I did together. And we had a great time, he's a wonderful
guy, a fine musician. MR: What's your opinion of the state of jazz
music today? VR: I mean those that are playing jazz are
playing great. Those that are playing. I hate the fact that there's no jazz on AM
radios, where a lot of younger people could hear it. Most of the jazz is on the FM dial, and so,
well I guess most people have FM's now but that's unfortunate, that we don't hear enough
of it. Or like in Europe where they have the bands
play for the radio stations and they play jazz. The music that's being played by the Marsalis
family, and the other, what's his name, Roy? Hargrove? MR: Hargrove, yes. VR: Oh I love his playing. And Geri Allen. They are performing well, it's just that there's
not enough of it. When I was young that's all you heard was
jazz, jazz bands, and rhythm & blues bands, like Roy Milton and those kind of groups. But you don't hear too much of it now. MR: Is there much of a live jazz scene in
L.A. these days? VR: Yeah, it's sort of activating up over
in the area by Leimert Park. Billy Higgins has a club over there called
The World Stage. And on Saturday afternoons he has many jazz
people, the jazz veterans come over, like Max is in town, or Elvin's in town, they'll
come over there and play with the other young people. In fact they do that every Saturday, somebody's
there. And it's sort of a Renaissance over in that
area over there in Leimert Park. But there are not a lot of clubs like there
used to be a long time ago. So the kids really don't have a place to perfect
their craft. I think Billy's about the only place in L.A.
where they're doing that now. It's called the World Stage in Leimert Park. And he's had some fine musicians come out
of there. black Note, have you heard of that group? B Sharp Group? They came out of Billy's place. And there's a fine young lady that plays flute,
that unfortunately I cannot recall her name now, she's doing great, and she's this offshoot
of Billy's program over there on Saturdays. MR: Maybe we should go over there this afternoon,
huh? VR: You should. But oh I have something else to do. But you should. You should see it. You really should. MR: It says on your page you gave me here
that you're frequently spotted making the rounds of churches in the Los Angeles area. VR: Yes. Somebody's always wanting me to play for somebody's
funeral or something. I played for Dorothy Donegan. And I play at my church and that's where I
began playing you know, in church. And that's where my roots are. And I enjoy it, and if a friend of mine will
ask me why will you play for our women's day or something like that - in fact I have to
play for Sister's Day, Sunday after next, at my church, for black history month. I'm on the program for that. So I enjoy it. I enjoy the music of the church very much. MR: Is there a connection between jazz and
Gospel for you that you can put into words? VR: It's kind of hard. In fact, Kid Ory told me many years ago when
I was in college, that jazz started in the church. Now I don't know if he meant the traditional
kind of jazz or what. But I'd like to say even your, just say like
an Aretha Frankin. Your strongest artists have church backgrounds. Your best singers and instrumentalists - Milt
Jackson told me once, "You know I came up in a sanctified church" you know, the influence
of the music of the church, you could hear it so in the Gospel music. I'm sure you hear it in my playing, when I
play at church. It was something that was just in your bones
so to speak. And if you come up in the church, and this
is another interesting thing I found out too, as a sort of a side way to get to your question. I guess I get pretty animated sometimes. MR: That's fine. VR: I used to think growing up in a black
community, everybody went to church. That's what I used to think you know, because
that's all we knew. The church has been the centerpiece for black
life for so many years. But then there are some musicians that did
not come up like that. And you ask them to play something - "Precious
Lord" or something like that, and they don't know what you're talking about. You understand what I'm saying? But for those of us that grew up in churches,
and the majority of us did, the music of the church is definitely heard in jazz. The rhythm and like I said, some of the people
were in Gospel so they look down upon jazz and jazz players. And it's unfortunate that they have these
feelings about jazz musicians and people that sing the blues. I'm sure God thinks just as much of a B.B.
King as he thinks of some top notch Gospel singer. You know what I'm saying? It disturbs me. Because it's very selfish and - I'd better
stop. MR: I think it's well said. VR: It's very selfish for one thing. And how can you deny that the two aren't akin
to each other? MR: Well look at Duke Ellington. VR: Oh, come Sunday, the "black, Brown & Beige
Suite" This music is gorgeous. And at UCLA that lecture I gave, there was
a young man there in the class who was feeling the same way as I'm feeling about this snubbing
of people who play jazz and rhythm & blues. My church is not like that though, fortunately. And some of them are doing better. At First AME they have a saxophonist over
there who's definitely jazz influenced, and at my church, Faith United Methodist Church,
we've been trying to get a jazz vesper going. So maybe it's changing but still some of the
people who just do Gospel music, they look down yet on jazz
as not something God would condone, that kind of thing. I hope I've explained that. MR: I think you did. VR: Because I don't want to be misunderstood
about that. But I am very concerned about that. The whole world loves jazz, but a fraction
of those who created it predominantly. MR: It's certainly been one of America's great
contributions. VR: I should say. MR: To the whole world. VR: I should say. What else? Everything else is European. I mean it's the truth, other than maybe the
native Indian music. You see? Then that's a long - it gets really involved
in sociological whys and wherefores I guess, and religious conservatism and that whole
thing. MR: Do you have any feelings about popular
music these days? VR: I don't listen to much of it. I don't. You know I just don't listen to it much. The melodies that I've grown up with, where
have they gone? They were so beautiful. I liked some of Burt Bacharach's things that
he did with Dionne Warwick. There's a new singer, a young singer, I guess
he's in the pop idiom, Maxwell I think his name is, I like some of the ballads he's doing. But some of the things I hear - and these
people are nominated for Grammys and you know, nominated for this award and that award, and
making bookoos of money, I just wonder, where is the talent? Where is the talent? I don't hear it and I don't feel it. You know so most of the times I'm listening
to either the jazz station or I listen to the talk stations a lot which are non-musical. But I listen to the jazz station and on Sunday
I listen to Stevie Wonder's station, KGLH because they play a whole Gospel thing on
Sunday. But just like they are, this and that, this
is the latest star, you know, the average public doesn't know from one year to the next
who's the big person this year. Like I mean we knew Ella Fitzgerald forever. MR: There's some longevity to those-
VR: Right. Nancy Wilson forever. But these people, once it's Suzy so- Carmen
Bradford I listen to. Have you listened to her? MR: Uh huh. VR: She's marvelous. But I consider her in the jazz idiom. She's a great singer, and why we don't hear
more of her I don't understand it. I don't understand that. But as far as just regular pop stuff? Ut umm. I listen to the talk station. You can't feel it. You've got to feel something when a person
is singing or playing. You've got to feel something. Some of this stuff, you can't even understand
the lyrics. It's just out there. MR: It seems like the emphasis on the music
has switched so much to the rhythm end of things. VR: Maybe so. Maybe that's it. MR: That the melodies and the lyrics have-
VR: The melodies are gone. Just gone. You don't hear much melody. MR: I've noticed it when students go out and
they'll buy great hits of 1993, and they'll bring them to the lesson and they'll want
to play them on the saxophone. And you look at the melodies, and there's
very little there that they can transfer to their instrument. VR: To their instrument. MR: Where with the melodies from earlier era,
they could be sung or they could be played. VR: Absolutely. "In a Sentimental Mood" or "I've Got it Bad,"
or "Stella by Starlight," and "Here's that Rainy Day," "A Foggy Day." You just don't hear it anymore. I miss it and I really feel as though I try
to be very open minded too, because I listen to some of what the contemporary artists are
doing sometimes. I mean I just don't turn off the radio, I'm
not going to listen - I used to listen to a station every night from 9:30 to 10 that
was playing some, that was on television though, that was doing some more contemporary things,
and I really tried to listen. And like you said, I can't hear any melodies. And melodies are important. Lyrics are important too. But I guess-
MR: Well do you ever take out your recordings from years ago and put them on? VR: Yes, I do, I do. And I must say they still sound fresh. When I listen to the - I did a thing too with
Al Grey and the Basie band. Well most of the guys were from Basie's group. And hey, when I listen to me play "Dinah"
or play "Put it on Mellow," or something like that, I think it sounds pretty good for being
you know like 30 years ago or something. I'm really pleased at the contribution I've
made for women, to inspire women, not for women. But I get calls too nowadays from the younger
women wanting to take instruments. And how do I get started and all that kind
of thing. And my aunt just found that reasonable saxophone
that time and said, "Open your mouth" and she put the mouthpiece in there and said "ta"
and that was it. You're just going to play. And we didn't have much choice. And my mother used to say, and I hear people
say nowadays, oh I wish I had taken the piano. I wish I had taken the so-and-so. But my mother would say, "Listen, I'm the
mother because I'm supposed to tell you what you're supposed to do and what's good for
you." That's what mother does. I mean nowadays the kids tell mother everything. Like, "I don't want that. I don't want this, I'm not going to Sunday
School." There's a lot of kids telling parents. But when I grew up, my parents, my mother
said well what's the point in having a mother? I mean a mother and a father are to direct
you, and to tell you what's going to be beneficial to you in the future. Because they know. See but there's a lot of kids telling the
parents nowadays, what they're going to do. And then when grew up they said "ooh I wish
I had taken that, my mother bought a piano but I just wouldn't listen." MR: Well it sounds like you came from a very
strong family, and strong in music. VR: Yeah. Strong. My father was like a gentle, very benevolent
man. Always concerned about the sick, and the musicians
in those days had more of like a - they were concerned about each other and each other's
families, that kind of thing. And my mother was strict though. But I don't regret it today. I don't regret it to this day. "No you can't date yet, you can't date until
you're 16." And then when I got to be 16 it was a bus
ride across town. And then she said "oh no, you have to wait
until you're 18 to be unchaperoned." That kind of thing. I mean you tell a kid that today, you know
- but then the whole society has changed. MR: I saw an interesting quote from Marshall
Royal about your father. VR: Oh you did? MR: He said your father could sell cheese
to Wisconsin. VR: Oh you did? Daddy was a wonderful guy I'm telling you,
he was a wonderful man. MR: And he must have been a good promoter
of his own talents. VR: And he was a good provider. I had a wonderful childhood. And when I see poor little babies now, not
enough food, no Christmas trees and no this, and oh my God, we'd have the tallest tree
and the most Easter eggs and that kind of thing. That was fun to us. Maybe it's not as much fun now. Maybe the kids have other things to compensate. Maybe they have all the video games and that
kind of thing. But Daddy took us riding on rides - he'd get
us in the car and drive us out Wilshire Boulevard. And he was a special kind of guy. And maybe he could sell cheese to the - but
you know why he probably said that? Because in addition to Daddy doing his drums,
that was number one, Daddy sold tombstones, and Daddy sold cars. And he made a good living for the family. And my mother loved it. MR: Oh boy. VR: Well I'd like to read that about Marshall. Ironically I played at Marshall's funeral. I did, I played "Tenderly" for Marshall. He and Evelyn used to come over when I was
a kid and they loved my mother's gingerbread. And they used to come over often for dinner. And every time he'd see me he'd say, "Mattie
could sure make good gingerbread." MR: Well it's in that book. VR: About his life? MR: No it's in that book L.A. Sounds. VR: Oh is it? MR: Yes, in Marshall's chapter. VR: Marshall's section. MR: Yes. VR: Daddy could sell cheese to Wisconsin. Well he just about could. MR: Well this has been quite fascinating. Is there anything that you'd like to say that
I haven't thought of asking you? VR: I'm looking at my husband. I'm looking at my husband. Let me see. Oh I can say I'm very happily married. I have two sons, I lost one. And I have three grandchildren. And I hope that they will - I know their lives
won't be like mine, you know things are so different, but I hope that they will be able
to experience, well Jamal, the other one, he's at UCLA, he's a business major, that's
Brian Meeks. And then I have a little tiny one, he's three,
that's Shawn Meeks. God only knows what he's going to do, he's
a smart guy. But I hope they will be involved in the arts
in some way. You know it's one thing that I hate too is
that so much of music and the arts have been cut out of the school programs you know. And that might be another reason why we're
not getting so many musicians. I don't know if it's happened where you live,
but here in Los Angeles, we lost so many of our music teachers and kids used to rent a
clarinet for $3 per semester, then if you didn't like that then change to the trumpet. But that's kind of gone by the wayside now. And I'd like to say something about the use
of alcohol and drugs before I - stay away from it. Stay away. It's destroyed too many fine, fine musicians
so early in life. And I recommended it. MR: People that you were acquaintenced with
along the way, you saw that it just- VR: I saw that it wrecked so many lives. And I am blessed that I've never gone down
that way. It's not my goodness, it's been God's mercy,
because I've seen everything and been exposed to everything. But I tell all the young people, stay away
from it, you don't need it. You don't need anything to make you feel better. It's a false sense of what you really are. They say a glass of wine is good for the heart. But you don't know what that might lead to
for you, in a given situation. So I tell all the young people that I come
in contact with, stay away from drugs of any sort. Because you don't know how it's going to deal
with you. I once read a book when I was in college about
drug addiction. And it said never underestimate the power
of the poppy. And that's always stayed in my mind. And then when I saw so much around me, what
was happening to so many of my contemporaries, it really enforced it in my mind. So you have to ask God to help you sometimes. You may not be able to do it of your own self. But that's one thing I say to young people
all the time. Stay away from drugs. MR: I'm glad you said it. VR: I think it's very important. Be happy. As I said before, I'm very happily married
now. There was a time when I wasn't so happily
married, but I kept trying. MR: All right. I understand Charles, your son is playing
professionally with Chuck Mangione? VR: Oh yeah. He's back with Chuck Mangione now. MR: He's a bass player, isn't he? VR: Yes, he's a bass player and sings also. And I'm proud of his contributions. He's quite a talented person. Quite a talented person. He was teaching school for a while but I think
he kind of got - he wanted to perform some more years. MR: Well, it's in his genes, right? VR: Yes, I think so. On both sides. His mother and father, so I guess he just
wanted to do his thing. And I think he's doing his thing now. MR: Well I want to thank you for sharing your
time with me today. VR: Oh it's been a pleasure. I think well, you know there are not too many
of us around that were active in the 50s and 60s and 70s, and in sound mind and body. And I consider it a blessing that I'm still
here to talk about things that have happened in the past and were very significant in terms
of jazz history, and in terms of the roles of women in that. Oh we didn't mention Mary Lou Williams. MR: Well how could we - wasn't she an unbelievable
talent? VR: She used to write to me when she became
so ill that she was down at Duke University, she used to write to me, and I'd write to
her, at the time she was quite ill. But I'll have to come back another time. MR: I'd just wanted to wrap up and ask you if
there's something that you'd really like to do in the future that you haven't done yet? VR: Okay. I've done a lot of things you know with that
instrument playing and concerts, but I would like very much when I hear my instrument,
when I hear me on a record or something, I'd like for my instrument to be used in a movie. That's the one thing that I desire. And I think that it would be very effective. I'm not saying it in any vanity, but I just
want to play in a movie. If just my instrument or even my instrument
with other instruments. I just feel that so intensely, and that's
what I'd like to do. MR: Do you have a picture in your mind of
what would be going on? VR: Something with children, or even a mystery,
some kind of mystery. But I hear myself. I'm wanting to hear myself I guess I should
say, in a movie. And Lalo Schifrin does movies and I met him
when he was with Diz, and I've been saying I was going to call Lalo and let him know
what my desire is. And often times people will say, "Jazz musicians? Do you read music?" Of course I read music. I had a guy ask me that one time. I was doing a record date for Rahsaan Roland
Kirk. And he says, "Well do you read music?" And I thought that was so strange. Of course I read music. MR: I'm a musician. VR: Yes, absolutely. But some people feel like jazz musicians - but
hey, I had a heck of a teacher. MR: Well I hope you find that desire fulfilled. VR: I really hope that that wish is granted. MR: And remember, you said women have to be
a little aggressive in the music business. VR: Right so here I go. MR: So maybe you should make that call. VR: All right. MR: Thank you. VR: Thank you. It's been a pleasure.
