New Orleans Jazz Club, Jan.-Feb., 1958				Nos. 1 & 2
Vol. 9
					Salute to the Dukes

	The Dukes of Dixieland
There are five words that epitomize the steady rise to the top which cover "The Dukes" like a tent. They are: hard work, clean living and teamwork				spot job with Leon Rappolo (a relative of, but not THE Leon). While playing this job (at age 13), Frank was offered an opportunity to get together a band to play at "Mama Lou's" in Little Woods. (This is a spot reminiscent of old Milneburg, and resembling this famous jazz spot in many. many ways. It's on the lake front, and although a suburb of New Orleans, is quite close to the city). In June of 1946, Frank organized his own band. his brother Freddie joined him, and the group played at Little Woods for 3 consecutive months, only abandoning the job when the school session resumed.
Most of America only knows them thru their wonderful "Audiofidelity Records". We'd like to let you in on the ground floor, and straighten out all you guys who believe that success comes to the "lucky ones" easy. Let's start from the very beginning.
Freddie was born December 3rd, 1929 in Jennings, La. This is a little country town, not too far from New Orleans. Attending school there, he began playing trombone. Within the year. although he was still in the 5th grade, he was considered good enough to play with the High School Band.
				In the winter of 1946, Freddie left Frank's small band to join a dance
				band and work week-ends across the river at Moonlight Inn. The five piece combo consisted of Frank on trumpet, John Gervais on piano, Tommy Balderas on guitar, Willie Perkins on drums, and Pete Fountain on clarinet and sax. Gervais later played with Lester Bouchon's outfit, while Pete Fountain is the same who played with
Jac Assunto, his dad, an experienced trombonist and all-around musician, began giving him lessons. He began to know the importance of clean, crisp playing, and developed a big, round, bodyful tone.
Frank, Freddie's brother, was born January 29th, 1932. As soon as his older brother began taking lessons
				the "Basin Street Six", and is presently with Lawrence Welk. This organization worked at many private clubs throughout the city, and for a few weeks at the famous "Hide-A-Way" on St. Bernard. It was at this time that Frank, then 16, named his band the "Basin Street Five". They were in great demand all thru 1948.
from his dad, the younger brother began taking a deep interest in the
proceedings. After his second lesson (from Jac, his dad), his teacher refused to give him any more lessons! He was listening to Louis Armstrong and Bunny Berrigan too much, and refused to practice.
Meanwhile. Big Brother Freddie was practicing like a demon and won a part-scholarship to St. Aloysius High School. Soon after this, he began playing a few dance jobs with the other kids in school. Stimulated by this success, Frank practiced more and more, and during his first year in high school, was asked to play a				Frank Assunto and Pete Fountain attended one of Tony Almerico's Sunday afternoon jam session at the Parisian Room on Royal Street. When they told Sharkey Bonano and Irving Fazzola that they too could play dixieland music, they got a good horse laugh because of their extreme youth.
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			The Dukes
		(Continued from Page 1)				again to Baton Rouge for 12 more weeks. On returning to New Orleans, they found themselves firmly entrenched in the Famous Door, this time . . . "for keeps". We estimate their stay at Bourbon Street's most famous jazz bistro as being almost 5 straight years!
Then and there Frank and Pete decided to show 'em. They offered their services for a party which was to be given for the Parisian Room musicians.
Besides Frank and Freddie and Pete, Stanley Mendelson joined them on piano, with Henry Bartels on bass, Tony Balderas on guitar, and Willie Perkins on drums . . They were an immediate success. Tony Almerico and Joe Gemelli (co-owners of the Parisian Room) decided to try to get the boys a shot at the Horace Heit Contest. They won. From then on they were tagged with the name. "The Junior Dixieland Jazz Band" of New Orleans. They bought uniforms and joined Local 174.
						Recording sessions began to bob up - their first, we believe, being for Roger Wolfe. famous M. C. and jazz aficianado of radio station W.D.S.U. Then Columbia, then Okeh, and from then on - so fast and furiously that we cannot enumerate!
						Betty Owens, "The Dutchess". joined the band, and contributed many fine vocal efforts. She too, can be heard on many of their recordings. Her famous "Go back where you stayed last night" is strictly a classic. She has contributed many, many more and is still contributing (in spite of the busy chores that go with motherhood).
A short while before this (your reporter cannot recall the exact date),
the New Orleans Jazz Club was approached by this group for an "audition" to appear at one of the monthly meetings. This was granted, and the place selected (not by choice, but of necessity!) was a lower room in the old Association of Commerce building. The Board of the NOJC was to do the auditioning. They were bowled, over by the youth of this aggregation,. in spite of having been tipped off before hand! We sort of recall that there was no piano in the building, that their bass player did not show up, and somewhere in the fogged up re-, cesses of our memory we seem to conjure up a young lady guitarist! It was a strange looking conglomeration'. But . . . when those kids started to blow, Man! That was it!
						There have been changes in personnel which are worth mentioning in passing: Ray Burke on clarinet; Bill Shea on clarinet; Buck Rogers on drums; Stanley Mendelson on piano; Artie Seelig on piano: Roger Johnston on drums; Harry Shields on clarinet: Harold Cooper on clarinet, `little' Chink Martin on bass and a few others.
						Scouts from famous hotels and jazz night spots from all over America be
						gan to seek them out at The Famous Door. Such fabulous hotels as the "Dunes", Las Vegas. Nevada signed them up for the Sinbad Lounge, where they were a sensation. "The Thunderbird Hotel", also at Las Ve gas, and several other equally well known hotels and night spots in this same town eagerly sought their con tract. Chicago beckoned to them "be (Continued on Page 3)
In 1950, they got their first real break, and filled in for Sharkey at the Famous Door on Bourbon Street. From here they went to Baton Rouge for a 10 week engagement, came back to the Famous Door for 3 weeks, then
2							THE SECOND LINE, Jan.-Feb., 1958

	The Dukes
(Continued from Page 2) tween seasons". The "Preview" and the "Blue Note" and "Jazz Limited"				trombone you have ever heard! His± duets with Freddie are strictly out of, this world! You'd think this was all„ wouldn't you? But it's not! Papa Jac sits in on banjo every now and then,. and contributes a fine solid beat to the already great "back line". Quite a man, eh what?
all were packed to capacity whenever the "Dukes" played there.
At the present writing, the "Dukes of Dixieland" are exclusive recording artists for the internationally famous "Audofidelity" label. After their very first album, their place in the jazz record field was assured. They have since put out 6 more albums on this label, with promises of still more to come. Their royalties are now mounting up into five figures!
				We cannot close our salute to "The! Dukes" without recalling with much! pleasure, the many times they offered; their services to the New Orleans Jazz Club at their monthly meetings, and how much they added to the Annual Festivals that the club gives; each year. One of the most unselfish': contributors to the early NOJC meet-1 ings was Papa Jac himself, for frequeenly he would sit in with one hand; after another at the St. Charles Hotel! - simply because he was the only trombonist in the house! Sometimes, until his lip would bleed!
Although so far our story of "The Dukes" has been limited entirely to "the kids", it's high time we let you peep behind the curtain and get some real low down. Jac and Mama Assunto had built an exquisitely lovely ranch type home in Jefferson Parish -investing wisely, while the iron was hot. Or so he thought. But the iron was not nearly so hot as it was to eventually get! It was still spankingly new, when the offers from Las Vegas began to come in thicker and faster. It was good business for them to sell this beautiful New Orleans home, and move lock, stock and barrelhouse to Las Vegas. Here, they are living in great style, in good taste, and with a margin that goes straight into a good old sock which they call "a bank" (yea, they got those things too, in Las Vegas - and not necessarily run by a croupier!).
				Evidence of the unselfishness which! characterizes this fine group of New Orleans musicians was shown at the "Preview" in Chicago during the month of July of 1957. Ray Burke,! Johnny Wiggs and Ed Souchon had been invited to sit in with them on a Sunday night. Instead of announcing] in a casual way that this visit was to take place, Freddie and Frank made! the announcement night after night, stint after stint for 3 days preceeding.. Also, they made known that these; three "visitors" had just recorded fore "Golden Crest" - and what a fine! recording it was! Results: instead of the usual Sunday night crowd, the l Preview was jammed and packed' tight! There are, we believe, few mu-sicians who would be so generous and! self effacing as this group was to the visiting 3 oldtimers!
Mama and Jac have been intimately and intensely interested in the success of their boys. Their advice and guidance has been the hub of the wheel around which the "Dukes" have revolved.
Not satisfied with contributing the business know-how, Jac has surprised his most ardent admirers by joining his boys on the smoothest, cleanest				One thing to wind up on a particularly nice chord: these kids really do believe in dealing with "Vital Statis-
					(Continued on Page 15)
THE SECOND LINE. Jan.-Feb.. 1958									3

4		THE SECOND LINE, Jan.-Feb., 1958

Is Jazz A Folk Art?

By William Bruce Cameron

Jazz, that most American of all music, presents a number of paradoxes which excite frequent and often vehe

folkways all carry certain connotations: primarily a homogeneity of genetic and ethnic background, and see

ment arguments among both its detractors and its adherents. One of these concerns the status of jazz as a folk art. This writer takes the weasel-position that it both is and it isn't. but he is willing to take on all comers by asserting that it is not folkish in the ways in which most writers think it is and that its true folk qualities are largely unheralded and unrecognized.

ondly, a uniformity of character and disposition permitting ready and accurate prediction of behavior on the part of peers. "They aye our kind of folks." They lack pretention and have a kind of rude honesty about the roles one takes and the use or disuse of social graces. "He's just plain homefolks." They are traditionally oriented and have time-sanctioned social cod(,

The terms folk and folkways are familiar concepts to sociologists. They have revered ancestry in usage by people like Wundt, Lazarus and Steinthal, who studied folk-physcology, or what today we would call "culture and personality," and William Graham Sumner, whose classic book, Folkways, established for all time both the meaning and significance of this term. In seeking some device with which to measure culture, numerous scholars have independently discerned continua between diametrically opposite types, ranging from the small, intimate, isolated and homogeneous community to

plus a storehouse of wit, philosophy, technical advice and metaphysics. All of these are transmitted and diffused by words of mouth and frequently contain diametrically contradictory principles, stated with equally epigramatie force, and bound together by the single tie of long common ownership. "Folk: hereabouts have always done it thisa - way."

This core of meanings is not ac-cepted by sociologists. In opening the 1956 seminars on American music of Cooperstown, Carlton Sprague Smith; divided music into three broad groups; "folk, urban, and art music." He fur-thur asserted that, generally, folk music resembled urban music of a few gen, orations previous. In this most sociologists would concur. The city tends to be the center f culture and the locus of innovations. These then radiate: to the surrounding areas, where, if sufficiently isolated, they may become: embalmed, often to the detriment of the arts but to the joy f later culturologists who can find a nearly pure lode of culture long since worn out and dis

the large, formal, accessible and heterogeneous. Robert Redfield calls these two polar types the "folk society" and the "urban." Although other sociologists may prefer different terminology, viz., sacred - secular, gemeinschaftgesellschaft, status-contract, all readily understand the meanings and the logic behind them.

Folk, "folks," folkish, folksy, and

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THE SECOND LINE, Jan.-Feb., 1958

5

				Is Jazz A Folk Art?
(Continued from Page 5) carded in the more accessible urban areas.						in Burl Ives tones, there are small town boys, who hop rides to the city, taking along their beat-up, second-hand horns. They have eyes for the big towns and all its ways. For them the main stream of American music is not Elizabethan balladry winding its dwindling way down to Colvin Hollow, but rather the blues, moaned or blown in the cotton fields, mixed with gin and sin on Rampart and Bourbon Streets, broadcast in a million one-night stands in dance halls and theatres all over the land. and now trained, polished and implemented at Julliard, Eastman and North Texas State College. No falsettosinging, modal-chord-strumming, nostalgia-pulling "folk bit" for them. These boys have their hip cards punched, their axes in hand, and they
-I promised conflict, and I have just spent three long paragraphs in apparent idyllic agreement. Where is the 'conflict? Right here: Jazz is not a rural music, but characteristically urban. It is not basically committed to the preservation of the past, but instead tries ostentatiously to outdate itself daily. While many Jazz musicians come from the country, often the "big-foot country," they leave behind folkish ways as fast as they can and strenuously dissemble urbanity in dress, speech, bearing and tastes.
At the very time that urban bred middle-class boys go to college and major in folk-lore and prowl the countryside attempting to "collect" some hitherto unpublished version of "Barbara Allen," which they will then sing
						want to cut out on the rural scene and dig what's making on the street.
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	6

Is Jazz A Folk Art?

(Continued from Page 6)

seems to be true that the early jazz sounds that were played on instruments were fashioned in part. after previous vocal sounds. A man first plays what he has heard. Only later does he find a sound which is really his own. But this does not mean that jazz stopped back there. The idea that a jazz musician should be musically ignorant has long since been discredited. Today it is the folksinging kids who can't play a guitar out of the key of E without a capo. The jazzmen know their horns. Granting that jazzmen heavily favor the flat keys (band instruments feel "left handed" in sharps), the man who can't blow in all twelve keys is properly ashamed of it.

As far as I can tell, the only thing that country life ever contributed to the art of jazz was to make the music man so unhappy that he had to moan, so bitter that he had to shout, and so very glad to get to the city that he laughed and jumped for joy. Not that the city_ was kind. Like other natural forces, the city neither rewards not punishes; it merely reacts. And inexorably, many a talented migrant has been debauched, ground up, destroyed by the impact of urban demands and temptations in a sensitive personality who has only ruralways to go on. But for the sake of the art, the point still must be made: even if the city destroyed these men, at least it listened, and the country never did. Otherwise they would have stayed. Art for art's sake is laudable, but it does not buy bread, and the two main attractions the city has always held for the jazz man are music and bread. The larger the city, the more and better of both.

We can't defend this next point, yet we must state it: instrumentalists usually suspect that vocalists are not really musicians. Practically all jazz musicians are instrumentalists, while most folk music in America leans on the lyrics. Many a modern jazzman of stature is a college or conservatory graduate himself. He does not collect music like a folklorist; he creates it. Jazz today is a living, changing art. The people who are making it are urban instrumentalists and composers and skilled improvisers, which is really just another word for a fast-thinking composer who blows his horn well. They live in the city; they work in the city; they feel with the city when they feel anything other than their art. They

But there is another part of this paradox: the jazz man goes to the city; he is not necessarily, nor even typically, born there. Good jazz men all know this. Listen to any discussion about who blows good horn and where. Like as not the boys will agree on some of the big names, but each will add, "But you ought to hear Bobby Cohn in Cincinnati, or Johnny Phillips in Pekin." They know that there are literally hundreds of top-notch musicians who still live in the hinterlands, who have never gone to the big towns or who never return there. Jazz is where you find it. You often find it languishing in the small towns, but you almost never find it in the hills and hollows.

(Continued on Page 8)

Another misunderstanding centers on the folkishness of jazz technique. It

THE SECOND LINE, Jan.-Feb., 1958

7

Is Jazz A Folk Art?

(Continued from Page 7)

can Negroes, the wall is nearly impenetrable. Even if he is a Negro, but urban and educated, the wall is still there. Willis James recounts an episode in which he was trying to study the music of an isolated Negro community. As a college professor, he had to struggle to gain a little confidence. Why was he there? Was he an investigator of some sort? Did he want to ridicule their ways? What good reason could he have to come to them? At long last a man gave him one sardonic lyric:

may be refugees from the swamp lands, but their feet are clean and they wear shoes. They are trained, intent, knowledgeable and sophisticated, and they are critical about what they are

doing. Folksy they are not.

Despite all this, there is a kind of folk quality about jazz, although professional folklorists are not likely to find it. Collecting folklore of any sort demands that the collector establish rapport with his folk. Anyone who has done field work knows well enough how difficult this can be. The researcher is rarely even from the people, much less one of the people, and they know it. If he has the right informal credentials, a congenial personality and some friends in the area, he may bit by bit be admitted, but it is often slow going. The more different his ways and background, the less trustworthy will his data be. If he is white and the people he is interested in are Ameri

Listen what I tell you

Understand me well

Strangers ain't welcome here

Home folks is catchin' hell!

This underlines the problem of research among, the really primitive grass-rooters of jazz. Long used to subjugation and exploitation, these people cannily avoid any commitment as long as they can, and if they must talk with the researcher in order not to be rude, they try to figure out what kind of answer he wants and then give it to him. Usually the answer is a kind of double talk which simultaneously says to all the real people around them: "Look here at this man. What is he up to anyway? Let's give him a pleasant answer and maybe he'll go away." Under these circumstances, the old jazz

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THE SECOND LINE, Jan.-Feb., 1958

8

		Is Jazz A Folk Art?
(Continued from Page 8) musician will agree that he was once on such-and-such a band and that he probably heard such-and-such a tune twenty years before it came out. In fact he will agree to almost anything, because he doesn't really care. Many current myths in jazz apparently arose in just this way. Some of these myths are gradually being dispelled.				the center of controversy which he does not seek. He much prefers to go on just playing good jazz.
				This does not characterize all jazz musicians. Some of them are violent personalities and vocal about their dislikes. But the jazz man today is often in the public eye. To eat he must get along. It is easier to get along if you don't let people get too close to you. So he often cultivates an easy front that goes about two inches deep and he keeps private his real feelings. These he shares only with other musicians and close friends who have proven that they can be trusted.
The research problem today is more complex, because the musician is more sophisticated, but it remains similar. Musicians, like folk people, are intensely loyal to their own kind, and although they are obviously urban, they are in peculiar and deliberate ways isolated. They do not fear to talk with people. They will pass the time of day with anyone. They appear to the stranger affable and casual, but also shallow and superficial. This is largely just a blind, serving the same purpose as the "Yas, suh, boss!" of the old southern Negro. Although I play a little jazz myself and have been able to establish fair rapport with most jazzmen I have talked with, there is one prominent saxophonist whom I know from whom I have never been able to get one word of criticism about another musician's playing. It is not, I am sure, that he is not critical. The excellence of his own performance gives the lie to this. His affability is a cover. Helloes not trust me. I might air his critical comments in an article like this one and thereby make him
				The jazz man then does have the folk characteristics of intimacy and isolation and group loyalty. Also he has the unwritten code of conduct which he has learned in the only way in which it can be learned - by first hand participation. Marshall Stearns reports how this even cuts across national boundaries. A foreign newspaperman, a jazz fan, suppressed a good story because it could have caused embarrassment to the Gillespie band on their Middle East tour.
				Another characteristic of f o 1 k people is a cultivation of various delicious brands of private humor. These are meaningful only within the group and they are often expressed in language which defies translation into other tongues. The-jazzman's-world-abounds with such humor. Jazzmen also have
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THE SECOND LINE, Jan.-Feb., 1958   9

JAZZ JAMBALAYA

By Bob Morris

old favorites a sizzling workout. In on the act were Tony Fougerat, trumpet; Bill Crais, trombone; Francis

A jam-packed assembly marked Oc

tober's meeting of the Jazz Club.

The Roosevelt Hotel's University

Murray, clarinet; Hal Marranto, piano; Al Bernard, bass; and Len Ferguson, drums.

Room was r, v, e r f 1 o w i n g with peo

ple as one of the most talent-packed programs in many months unreeled.

Other musicians who sat in before the evening was over included pianist Tony Donken and drummer Al Babin.

Kicking off the evening's proceedings were Sharkey and his Kings of Dixieland, w h o dropped by on the way to their reg

Sherwood Mangiapane's Jazz Band provided some solid, stirring renditions of not-yet-done-to-death evergreens. Playing in a relaxed-but-vigorous manner were Bill Gallaty. trumpet; Tom Brown, trombone; Raymond Burke, clarinet; Hal Marranto, piano; Sherwood Mangiapane, bass; and Sal Guiterrez, drums.

ular stint at the

Dream Room. Performing in a cohesive, smoothly swing style were

The October meeting was one of the most enthusiastic of the year. Nobody left early.

Sharkey Bonano, trumpet: Joe Rotis, trombone; Harry Shields, piano; Johnny Gervais, piano; Al Lobre (subbing for Chink Martin), bass; and

November Meeting

Monk Hazel, drums.

Phil Campo observed his 15th birthday (the meeting was Oct. 28) by leading the Harmony Kings through the next set. Besides Phil on trumpet, the lively ensemble consisted of Cliff Archer, clarinet; Frank Bonansinga, piano; Lobre, bass; and Darryl Prechter, drums.

Enthusiasm knew no bounds at the Jazz Club's November meeting. The University Room crowd was a little thinner than customary, but it really got what it came to hear: Jazz.

Emcee Jim Dunbar got things going by bringing on the Jivin' Dukes, returning to the club by popular request. On hand were Tom Maggiore, trumpet and sax; Bert Boe, clarinet and sax; Robert Pell, piano; Henry Martinez, guitar; and Al Bernard. bass.

Some stirring jazz was presented by the Musical Moods Morris Schneider, trumpet and vocal; Harold Peterson, clarinet; Bill Farrell, piano; Eddie Chambon: and Henry Rodriguez, drums.

The Viscounts next showed how jazz is played in New Orleans. Paced by drummer Len Ferguson's Gibraltar-solid rhythms were Chuck Stevenson, trumpet; Paul Crawford, trombone; Francis Murray, clarinet; Tony Donken, piano; and Bob Chiccarelli, bass.

An enjoyable change of pace was offered by the Goldenaires, a vocal quartette from the New Orleans Recreation Department. Giving out with the close harmony were Roy Picou, Augie Wenzel, Gene Ravain and Henry Gabb.

Fougerat's Footwarmers gave some 10

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THE SECOND LINE, Jan.-Feb., 1958

			Jazz Jambalaya
	(Continued from Page 10)						Phil Campo, tp; Tom Casey, tp; Johnny Castaing, dm; John Chaffe, bj; Eddie Chambon, bs; Bob Chiccarelli, bs; Emile Christian, bs; Mary Jane Collins, pn; John Connally, sax; Harold Cooper, cl; Bob Coquille, bs; Bill Crais, tb; Paul Crawford, tb; Curtis Davidson, tp; Sam Dekemel, bugle; Jack Delaney, tb; Peter Deuchar, gt; Tony Donken, pn; Charlie Duke, dm; Charlie Dupont, tp.
Stu Bergen came on with a handpicked crew and gave sizzling renditions to some of the evergreen tunes. With Stu on trumpet were Bruce Voorhies, trombone; Murray, clarinet; Hal Maranto, piano; Bernard, bass; and Ernest Martinez. drums.
The Harmony Kings, headed by yong Phil Campo, were next to work over various jazz standards. Aiding trumpeter Campo were Voorhies, trombone; Cliff Achee, clarinet; John Walls, piano: Bernard, bass; and Darrell Prechter, drums.
							Paul Edwards, dm; Bill Farrell, pn; Len Ferguson, dm; Tony Fougerat, tp; Pete Fountain, cl; Don Franz, dm; Bill Gallaty, tp; Biddie Gaubert, pn; Lloyd Gaubert, tub; Malcolmn Genet, bj; Johnny Gervais, pn; Sal Guiterrez, dm; Bob Havens, tb; Monk Hazel, dm; Al Hirt, tp; Armand Hug, pn; Bill Humphreys. bj; T. Milton Hynes, dm;
Some lively jazz interpretations were presented by the Jazz Club Stompers: Tom Casey, trumpet; Voorhies, trombone; Boe, clarinet; Maggiore, sax; Doc Mulley, piano; Bernard, bass; and Harold Scherer. drums. For a grand-slam finale this group was augmented by Stevenson, Crawford and Murray to provide a double-barreled front line. They made Nov. 25 a night the spectators recall with alacrity.
							Roger Johnston, dm.
							Gerry Leonard, tp; Roy Liberto, tp: Al Lobre, Jr., cl; Al Lobre, Sr., bs; Tom Maggiore, tp-sax; Sherwood Mangiapane, bs; Hal Maranto, pn; Ernest Martinez, dm; Henry Martinez, gt; Charles McDonald, pn; Tony Mitchell, cl; Doe Mulley, pn; Francis Murray. cl-sax; Anthony Palmisano,
'57 Lineup
Looking back over 1957 it's evident that a lot of jazz talent saw jam-session action at the Jazz Club's monthly meetings. Here, for the record, is an unofficial listing of the artists who performed during the year:
							pn; Robert Pell, pn; Harold Peterson, cl; Darrell Prechter, dm; Shorty
							Reese, sax; Vernon Roccebert, drn; Henry Rodriguez, dm; Joe Rotis, tb;
							Johnny Roupe, tb; Harvey Rubin, pn. Joe Salter, bj; Harold Scherer, dm; Luke Schiro, cl; Morris Schneider, tp:
Cliff Achee, cl: Tony Almerico. ti); Frank Assunto, tp; Al Babin, dm; Eddie Bauman, tb; Johnny Bayersdorffer, tp; Don Berg, dm; Stu Bergen, tp; Walter Benedict, bj; Al Bernard, bs; Louis Bisso, pn; Bert Boe, cl-sax: Sharkey Bonano, tp; Frank Bonansinga, pn; Dominic Boracco, bj; Tom Brown tb; Dick Bruce, bs; Raymond Burkt, cl.
							Jake Sciambre, pn; Art Seelig, pn; Harry Shields, cl; Louis Sino, tb; Dr.
							Edmond Souchon, gt-bj; Chuck Stevenson, tp; Stan Surgi, dm; Mike Tra
							pani. tp; Bruce Voorhies, tb; Howard Voorhies, co; Russ Wait, bj; John
							Walls, pn; Johnny Wiggs, co; Roy Zimmerman, pn.
THE SECOND LINE, Jan.-Feb., 1958										11

		DECEMBER MEETING
Ali kinds of celebrities dropped in on the Jazz Club's Christmas party. Such as:					ano; Dr. Edmond Souchon, banjo; Bob Chicarelli, bass; and Len Ferguson, drums.
	(,a) Gene Austin, the celebrated						Everybody who came had a ball.
singer, and his gracious wife.
(b) John Getz, producer of the NBC television show, "Wide Wide World."
							"THE SECOND LINE" is published by the NEW ORLEANS JAZZ CLUB 2417 Octavia Street, New Orleans 15, La. Copyright 1958 by the N. O. Jazz Club
(c) Santa Claus, holder of the record as the jazz fan who lives farthest north.
						Reproduction in whole or in part cannot be done without prior written permission
The annual shindig was staged in lieu of the month's regular meeting on December 16 in the Roosevelt Hotel's gaily decorated University Room.
						Harry Souchon    President Bob Morris Vice-President
						Philip Giroir    .. .   - Treasurer Helen Ark -_ Recording Secretary Jo Schmidt Corresponding Secretary
Crooner Austin's appearance was warmly received, and he responded by praising the work the Club has done in boosting jazz.
						R. A. Tiug    Editor
						"THE SECOND LINE" is the official organ of the New Orleans Jazz Club. It is published if and when the men and women engaged in this Civic, Non-Profit enterprise have the time to devote to it. There is no "SUBSCRIPTION" to this little magazine - it is given as a "bonus" to our members. Literary contributions are solicited, and will be given all consideration for publication - but no monetary recompense is given for these.
TV executive Getz came to gather ideas for the all-New Orleans program of "Wide Wide World" planned for February 2. He was so enthusiastic about our native music that arrangements were made for a Jazz Club session to be telecast from the Streckfus riverboat President.
						Attempt will be made to publish this magazine at least once every other month. Applications for membership should be addressed to Mrs. Jo Schmidt, 3205 St. Charles Ave., New Orleans, La.
The jovial Mr. Claus scored a personal hit by dancing with the ladies and distributing gifts. (Club members gave him an assist by each bringing a 50-cent wrapped item.)
						ACTIVE MEMBERSHIP   $6.00 CORRESPONDING MEMBERSHIP $4.00
						JUNIOR MEMBERSHIP   _   $1.00
A Yuletide motif dominated the room, each table having a centerpiece of poinsettias, with red candles amid pine boughs sprayed with "snow." Toy musical instruments and red felt musical notes adorned the tree, which gleamed with silver dust.
								Congratulations
					The Times-Picayune of January 9th. 1958, carried the interesting announcement that Harry Souchon, President of the New Orleans Jazz Club, vas recently appointed as a member of the Board of Directors to the "Legal Aid Bureau". This organization is a United Fund - Community Chest agency, and is composed of some of the leading legal minds of the city. Congratulations, Mr. Souchon!
Len Ferguson and the Viscounts, the band engaged for the occasion, performed admirably as dancers filled the floor throughout the evening. The enjoyable Dixieland music may be credited to Chuck Stevenson, trumpet; Paul Crawford, trombone; Francis Murray, clarinet; Tony Donken, pi
12						THE SECOND LINE, Jan.-Feb., 1958

		Is Jazz A Folk Art?
	(Continued from Page 9)					have a special haircut to play good horn; you merely get the haircut to look like other musicians. Talking the current slang does not give you the beat. All of this is just jive.
their own John Henrys and Mike Finks about whom all manner of enormous lies are told. In fairness, some of the lies are true.
But while the language is obscure and personal, it is not characteristically archaic. In much linguistic research among folk people in the United States we can find clues in Elizabethan or other early literature. Isolation and illiteracy aad their typical errors in transmission, but isolation restricts innovation. Jazz, being urban, thrives on invention and change, and the language of the jazzman moves like the hand on the keyboard, twisting the words, changing them, recombining them and discarding them when familiarity reduces their freshness of impact.						A final similarity to folk music lies in the content of the soloist's improvisations. While the ideal of the im
						proviser is a completely fresh and original melody, actually most melodies are constructed from bits and snatches of previous ones, patched together and unified so that they are in a sense original, but in another sense strongly imitative. There are few great original talents in jazz. Nearly everyone shows plainly the influence, not only of specific musicians, but also of time and cultural milieu in which he learned to improvise. Just as the folk ballad singer borrows verses from other ballads to shore up his own, so also does the improviser borrow "licks," "riffs," and other small segments to add sparkle and continuity to his own personal ideas. To copy whole someone else's chorus is either a mark of great adulation, particularly when this chorus has already become famous on a record and would be immediately recognized by all sophisticates, or else it is a cheap and deceitful way of feigning an ability to improvise which is actually lacking. But to borrow a useful measure here or there is merely regarded as common sense and good taste.
At any point there is a jargon. In the swing era it was called "jive talk." Jive referred generally to the kidding around, self-consciously phoney mannerisms which the jazzman affected, both in his personal behavior and in his music. A great jazzman summed it up when he said: "There's nothing wrong with jive, as long as you know it's jive." Unhappily, at all periods there have been those who forgot, and always there have been outsiders who never knew. The language of the jazz group is always full of jive, partly drawn from the storehouse of folk-wit which the jazzman brought with him in his trek to the city, partly coined on the spot to express an immediate need, much of it found haphazardly in sheer experimentation with words. But very little of it is really poetic. The language is in general ambiguous, improverished and insignificant. The real core of the jazzman's subculture is the music. All else is superficial to it, coming and going like flotsam on the sturdy fluid wave. You don't have to
						To sum up, jazz does have its roots in folk music, especially in the blues. (Continued on Page 16)
THE SECOND LINE. Jan.-Feb., 1958										13

JANUARY MEETING

Roy Liberto and his Famous Door Five entertained the Jazz Club with some rousing Dixieland music at the January 20 meeting in the Roosevelt Hotel's University Room.

The Jazz Club's board of directors for 1958 were elected at the January

meeting. The Club's officers were to be named later by the board from its own membership.

Trumpeter Liberto's entire crew was on hand: Bill Crais, trombone; Peewee Spitelera, clarinet; Artie Seelig, piano; Emile Christian, bass; and Roger Johnston, drums.

Automatically returned to the board by virtue of the key positions they hold were: Harry Souchon, 1957 president; Jo Schmidt, corresponding secretary; and Dr. Edmond Souchon, Second Line editor.

The Viscounts likewise provided a stirring session. The personnel comprised Chuck Stevenson, trumpet; Paul Crawford, trombone; Francis Murray, clarinet; Tony Donken, piano; Al Bernard, bass; and Len Ferguson, drums.

Six other directors were elected by written ballot to fill out the nine-man board. Eighty-one ballots were cast at the meeting. Three incumbent directors were returned to office:

Helen Arlt, 81 votes. Phil Giroir, 61. Bob Morris 60.

Young Warren Luening headed a pick-up group which had never played together before (some of the members had never even met), and some amazingly good quality jazz resulted. The combo consisted of Luening, trumpet; Bob O'Rourke, trombone; Bert Boe, clarinet; John Walls, piano; Bernard, bass; and Darrell Prechter, drums.

Also elected to the board were:

Pete Miller ( a past president of the Club), 58 votes.

Louis Bisso, 50. Durel Black, 50.

Other candidates:

Lucille Kottwitz, Louis Kohlmeyer, Allain Andry, Francis Murray, and Bill Prutzman.

Another fine aggregation displaying the traditional jazz spirit was composed of Phil Campo, trumpet: Bruce Voorhies, trombone; Murray, clarinet; Doc Mulley, piano; Bernard, bass; and Prechter, drums.

Affable Larry Wilson emceed the program.

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THE SECOND LINE, Jan.-Feb., 1958

Jazz Scholarship Fund

George Lewis' Band

Joe Glaser, president of Associated Booking Corporation, has just set a precedent in pioneering by setting

On January 15th, 1958, George Lewis and a very great band, migrate to "The Red Arrow" in Stickney, Illinois. The "Red Arrow" is one of the most tried-and-true jazz spots near Chicago, and is just a stone's throw from Cicero. Franz Jackson and his All-Stars have been holding sway at this celebrated spot for many months.

up a scholarship to help some outstanding jazz musician at Berklee School of Music in Boston, Mass. This college is recognized internationally as the educational center for the study of jazz.

Mr. Glaser is well known to all of us as one of the nation's most celebrated booking agents, and features most of the top names in jazz. His best customer? None other than Louie Armstrong! (But . . . isn't "Berklee" similar to Juliard in New York? Nothing but `bop' and progressive, methinks!)

No. 1. Be sure to watch a coming issue of "The Second Line" for a fine story (with pictures) of Franz Jackson's All-Stars.

George Lewis' band closely approximates his original group. The present personnel includes: George on clarinet, Thomas Jefferson on trumpet, Big Jim Robinson on trombone, Slow Drag Pavigeau on string bass, Joe Robichaux on piano, and Joe Watkins on drums.

They will only stay for 4 or 5 days, and then begin a trek designed to further spread the gospel of real New Orleans music.

The Dukes

(Continued from Page 3)

tics"! In the excitement of listening to them at "The Preview", we did not make a written note of the exact figure, but somehow or other the lucky number "6" seems to jump at us. That's the number of grandchildren that Mama and Papa Jac now can claim! Even the "Dutchess" has contributed her share, and between vocals has learned to pin a square diaper and fix formulas! You can't beat a family like that! They're bound to succeed - and they have!

The New Orleans Jazz Club salutes its famous alumni, and starts the year of 1958 with a great big parcel of good wishes for their continued climb up the, ladder. How much higher can they go?

THE SECOND LINE, Jan.-Feb., 1958

15

Is Jazz A Folk Art?

(Continued from Page 13)

of another time are his sincerity, his playing mainly for himself and his

And these roots go deep. Probably twenty percent of the music played at the 1956 Newport Jazz Festival was frankly blues, all kinds of blues, in

friends, his suspicion of strangers, and above all his deep and abiding convic

tion that he must follow his music where it leads him because it reflects

cluding Green Blues. But it did not sound much like Bessie or Cow Cow or Leadbelly. The roots lie there, strong and deep, but the tree keeps branching upward into more rarified air all the time. The connection between the early blues singer and the contemporary West Coaster is more than just a tenuous aesthetic one. Both are members, though of different years, in a warm fraternity of kindred spirits. To the jazzman, other jazzmen are "home folks," although he will likely disdain the word. The main qualities in which the jazzman resembles the folk artists

the essence of his life.

EDITOR'S NOTE: The N. O. Jazz Club thanks the N. Y. Folklore Quarterly (Winter1956) and Dr. Cameron for permission to re

print this splendid article.

Dr. Cameron is Chairman of the Department of Sociology at Bradley College, Peoria, Ill. A previous article by him, "Sociological notes on the Jam Session" appeared in the Sepr.-Oct. and Nov.-Dec., 1956 issues of "The Second Line."

One of Dr. Cameron's major vices (we hope) ! comes out in his picture accompanying this article. He is a wonderful valve-trombonist and also plays a fine vibra-harp. He supplements his income as a professor by spot jobbing several times a week.

THE-MUSIC

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THE SECOND LINE, Jan.-Feb.. 1958