Dempsey J. Travis exposes the good, white side of Black Jazz

by Corey Hall

    Before the cellar.

    After: the opera house.

    That is how author and historian Dempsey J. Travis described Norman Granz's advancement of jazz music and musicians through concert and record promotions.  Through his bold business acumen and genuine concern fro artists, Travis added, Granz secured weekly pay for his clients that ranged from $800 to $900.  Before, they had been making less than $10 a night.

    Travis pays tribute to the promoter in his new book, "Norman Granz: The White Moses of Black Jazz" (Urban Research Press). Had it not been for Granz, Travis believes progress for Black musicians through integration would have been delayed by at least 20 years.

    When asked what impressed him most about Granz (1918-2001), Travis recalled the time the promoter took numerous Black jazz musicians - including Illinois Jacquet, Dizzy Gillespie and Lester Young -- to Houston in the 1950s.  These musicians, along with singer Ella Fitzgerald, were scheduled to perform in the Granz-created Jazz at the Philharmonic (JATP) series, which earned international acclaim for its participants.

    "Houston in my day, the 1960s, was as racist as Mississippi," Travis said.  "So for him to bring these musicians there in the 1950s took some imagination and some balls."

    For a detailed account of what happened on the Houston trip, Travis quoted Granz directly from Gillespie's autobiography, "To Be Or Not to Bop."  After renting an auditorium and hiring a ticket seller, Granz demanded that the audience be integrated.  To make his point clear, he removed signs that read "Negro toilets" and "White toilets" from the surrounding area.

    "In those days," he said, "all my shows were mixed, on purpose, because if a cat played, I don't care if he's green, Black, or whatever.  It so happened, most of my cats were Black, but there were some white - Gene Krupa and people like that."

    If a white patron had a seat next to a Black person and asked for another seat, Granz refused.  He gave the person a refund instead.  "We did everything we could, and of course I had a strong show...When people wanna see your show, you can lay some conditions down."

    Once the performance began, Granz recalled, three White men asked for and received his permission to watch from the backstage area.  While waiting for the preceding performance to conclude, Jacquet,  Gillespie and Young played dice backstage while Fitzgerald and her secretary ate their  lunches.

    "And all of a sudden, these (white) cats break down the door.  These duded did not have to do that because all they had to do was go turn the knob," he said.  "They came in with flashlights and guns drawn...They were police, of course, and they said, 'You're all under arrest for gambling!' "

    As Granz realized what was happening, he saw one officer disappear into a bathroom.  Seeing this, he told the officer's colleagues that he would watch them all in case they tried to plant something illegal in the room.  In response, one officer put a gun in Granz's gut and threatened to shoot.  Granz dared him to do so, and the man backed down.

Cuts from the cats

    Travis divides his book into 14 chapters, which he calls "cuts."  Each cut is devoted to a single musician, such as Mary Lou Williams, Clark Terry and Oscar Peterson.

    A former jazz pianist himself, Travis remembered being blown away by Williams, Art Tatum and Peterson.  Granz, Travis said, invited Peterson to join the JATP series at New York's Carnegie Hall in 1949.  Peterson's astonishing debut, he added, secured his place with Granz and jazz aficionados everywhere.

    "He opened that September evening playing 'Tenderly' and tore the 57th and Seventy Avenue hall down," Travis wrote.  "Peterson was taking his initial approval bows when he got the signal from Granz standing in the left wing of the stage to play three more numbers."

    Travis also recalled what happened soon after when he saw Peterson in a cutting contest at a New York City nightclub.

    "...[A] group of New York's best piano players gathered around the baby grand piano listening intently with both ears and (waited) for the contest to begin," Travis wrote.  "...When Oscar finished his exhibition, Art Tatum said, 'Young man that was very nice.  Now I would like to play a song for you.' The song that Tatum played for Peterson was 'Little Man You Have Had a Busy Day.' "

    "Tatum was really giving Peterson a message," Travis said.  "Peterson was just tearing up the piano, and this cat comes up and plays that song so softly.  Tatum was telling him, 'I'm the boss,' and he was the boss piano player.  That song said it all."

    Travis also details Granz's generosity toward numerous musicians, especially the chapter on Terry, a trumpeter, first played for the JATP series in Japan, he requested and received a financial advance for travel expense.  After the performance ended, Granz refused to accept Terry's payback, Travis wrote, because he enjoyed his playing so much.

    Eight years later, Travis added, Granz heard that Terry was about to have an operation.  He called and asked if he needed any help.  Terry said thanks but no, as his medical insurance would cover the costs.

    However, when Terry returned to the States from his hospital stay overseas," Travis wrote, "there was a small envelope in his mailbox with $5,000 check along with a note from Granz saying, 'Please use this bread as backup money.' "

    Granz's desire to treat all artists well, no matter their race, Travis said, also extended to women such as Fitzgerald and Williams, whom Travis identifies as "The Lady Who Swings the Bands."  Williams recorded for Pablo, Granz's record label, and also performed at a JATP concert.  Williams' composing skills were awesome, Travis added, noting that her songs were transformed into a ballet and performed by the Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater.  She also played at the White House in 1978 for then-President Jimmy Cater.

    Travis' memories of Williams date back to 1936 at the Savory Ballroom in Chicago.

    "She actually blew my mind with her ability to sound like Earl Hines, Art Tatum, Willie 'The Lion' Smith, James P. Johnson, Claude Hopkins and Fats Waller," Travis said. "She was able to put them all in one neat package...The jumping but relaxed piano style of Mary Lou Williams was mind boggling."

    The book's final cut contains an excerpt from Duke Ellington's autobiography, "Music Is My Mistress."  Ellington, who played his first European tour for Granz in 1966, praised the promoter for his excellent personal and professional skills.

    Through Granz, Ellington also worked with Fitzgerald on a later tour and with Frank Sinatra in a film entitled "Assault On a Queen."  Granz, Ellington said, "represented (my orchestra) beautifully as an impresario, and thus left me feeling very much indebted to him."

    "It makes a big difference when the man who is doing the talking is a millionaire.  He had no qualms," Ellington wrote.  "Everything had to be cleared through him and he took full responsibility.  Although he was acting in effect as my manager, he never took a percentage or fee."

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