"The Sound of Jazz": An Interactive Essay
by Thomas Cunniffe
In 1957, most of the programs on television were presented live and in black and white. Educational television was in its infancy, and professional football had not yet become a television staple, so the three commercial television networks programmed cultural programming on Sunday afternoons. Two of the pioneering arts series were “Omnibus” and “Camera Three”, and both shows had featured jazz on occasion: “Omnibus” with a classic 1955 lecture by Leonard Bernstein, and “Camera Three” with a 1956 episode featuring the Gerry Mulligan Quartet.
“Camera Three” was created by producer Robert Herridge, a man with a wide range of artistic passions. Born in 1914, Herridge entered Northwestern University’s College of Arts and Sciences in 1933, and upon his graduation, was awarded a poetry fellowship from the University of California at Berkeley. However, Herridge grew restless, believing that “one should live at the center of experience of his own time”, and he hit the road, working on farms and road gangs, and writing poetry and short stories, some of which were published in “Scribner’s” and “American Mercury” magazines. After World War II, Herridge lived in Greenwich Village and entered television as a way to earn good money. The burgeoning television medium was looking for young talent and fresh ideas, and Herridge was committed to adapt great literary and musical art without diluting it for the small screen. His mantra became “Keep it pure” and on “Camera Three”, he showed that he could retain the essence of Shakespeare, Melville and Mulligan even when presenting them in a half-hour format.
At their debuts, “Camera Three” and “Omnibus” had been on CBS, but by 1957, “Omnibus” had moved to NBC. One of the series that CBS used to fill the gap was “The Seven Lively Arts”, whose executive producer was John Houseman. Houseman is remembered by modern audiences for his role as the stern Professor Kingsfield in the television series “The Paper Chase” and for his “we earn it” commercials for Smith-Barney, but in 1957, he was best-known for his early association with Orson Welles. Houseman and Welles hadn’t worked together for years, but he might have seen a Wellesean streak in Herridge. Like Welles, Herridge could produce remarkable works, but he had to keep the network and advertisers away while he did so. Herridge’s fierce commitment to his “pure” technique made him unwilling to compromise his vision and his approach. As a result, Herridge made many enemies, and rarely got the opportunity to create without interference. And also like Welles, Herridge is primarily remembered for one major work. For Welles, it was “Citizen Kane”; for Herridge, it was “The Sound of Jazz”.
Since the focus of the show was on the music, Herridge did all he could to focus everyone’s energy on the musical program. He allowed the music to run its natural length, letting the solos run one or two choruses each, and presenting performances that would last from three to eight minutes. Nat Pierce was hired to create open-ended arrangements that would focus on improvisation. Most of the music was based on the blues to allow musicians of different generations to play together with ease. The musicians were told to dress casually and were allowed to wear hats and smoke if they wished. Herridge hired Bruno Zirato, Jr., the sound engineer from radio’s “Woolworth Hour” to assist the “Seven Lively Arts” regular sound man, Sam Lane. The engineers used over twenty microphones for “The Sound of Jazz“, and in a rare move for television of the time, the microphones were allowed to appear on camera. There were no expensive sets for the show; rather Herridge presented CBS’ studio 58 as a bare studio (and even had the studio number mentioned in the script). Herridge and director Jack Smight hired the best cameramen in New York and told them to improvise, saying “Don’t be afraid to go for any shot you like; we can handle it in the control room”. It was a daring move, but some of the most arresting visuals on the show came from spontaneously captured reaction shots of the musicians.
the air date neared, Herridge took on his usual role as middleman
between the production and the network. Herridge insisted that the music
take priority, so the show’s script was cut to the bone, eventually
having little more than the names of the musicians. According to
Hentoff, CBS was making nervous sounds about not seeing the script, but
Herridge would simply assure them that everything was going well, that
the musicians would show up and there would be an hour of music on
Sunday. However, when one of the network brass found Billie Holiday’s
name on a list of drug users and tried to have her taken off the show,
Herridge fired back that if Holiday was fired, Herridge, Hentoff and
Balliett would walk off in protest, and the show would not go on as
planned (Years later, Hentoff recalled doing a folk music show with
Herridge. A studio page brought a note from the network that said Pete Seeger
was on a list of subversives and would have to be taken off the show.
Herridge read the note and tore it up, saying “They say we can’t use
Pete. The hell we can’t!”).
“The Sound of Jazz” was presented live, there was no opportunity for a
repeat broadcast. Apparently, CBS had a kinescope recording of the show,
but it was lost by the mid-60s. There are at least two surviving
sources of the show, one of which is said to be Herridge’s copy. The
show appeared without a copyright notice and has been considered public
domain material for many years. The program is best-known from excerpts
in jazz documentaries, including “A Great Day in Harlem”.
With the exception of two short commercials, the entire program is
presented in Flash video. The videos can be expanded to full screen by
clicking the button on the lower right corner of the video screen.
At 5:00 pm Eastern Time on Sunday, December 8, 1957, director Jack Smight gave the opening cue and the live broadcast of “The Sound
of Jazz” began as Jo Jones launched the Count Basie All-Star Big Band
into Nat Pierce’s “Open All Night”. Although the All-Stars were a pickup
band, they played Pierce’s original with power and precision. It was
precisely the right type of opening to get the show off to a
good start. At the end of the first phrase, the camera caught Basie
mouthing an enthusiastic “yeah!” and the energy never let up. Coleman Hawkins’ fiercely rhythmic solo led the way to short spots by Dicky Wells, Gerry Mulligan, Joe Newman
and Basie. Basie surprised everyone by forgoing his usual minimalistic
piano style for joyous two-fisted stride. Clearly, the musicians were
excited to do this show, and they performed at the top of their game.
John Crosby’s opening remarks are the most substantial part of the
script, but they bring up several questions. Note that Crosby never
refers to “Open All Night” by name, instead calling it “a fast and happy
blues”. As “Open All Night” was not recorded on Columbia’s soundtrack
album (which was actually recorded at a rehearsal four days before the
show), it’s possible that the piece was written especially for the show
and it may not have had a title by air time. Basie never recorded the
tune officially, and the title comes from Chris Sheridan’s Basie
discography. And note that Crosby says “you’ve just caught a glimpse of
Count Basie playing a fast and happy blues. Let’s join him!” Had
Herridge planned to open the show with the standard opening for “The
Seven Lively Arts”, followed by Crosby’s remarks and then “Open All
Night”? If a last-minute change was made, Crosby might have changed the
tense of the first sentence, but forgot to cross out the last. Aside
from the “Open All Night” issues, the script illuminates the immediacy
common to both live TV and jazz, notes that there would not be a talk on
jazz’s history nor an attempt to play all the styles within the hour,
and tells the viewers that “the most important thing about jazz is to
feel it [and] enjoy it”. Crosby segues into the introduction for Henry
“Red” Allen’s group, followed by Allen’s eloquent pre-recorded comments
on the blues.
was a New Orleans native who learned to play trumpet while playing in
his father’s brass band. He was a natural showman with an exuberant
stage presence and a unique conception of post-Armstrong trumpet. Miles Davis was a long-time admirer, and in the mid-60s, Don Ellis called him “the most avant-garde trumpeter in New York”! Allen’s group for “The Sound of Jazz” contained a wide variety of musicians. Pee Wee Russell and Rex Stewart
were such original talents that they defied categorization and Coleman
Hawkins had played a significant role in most of the jazz styles from
the 1920s on. The rest of the group,
Vic Dickenson, Nat Pierce, Danny Barker, Milt Hinton and Jo Jones, were
all well-known for their superb musicianship and flexibility in playing
Allen’s first selection was the Louis Armstrong/Jelly Roll Morton
collaboration “Wild Man Blues”. The reserved majesty of this work
stands in direct contrast with “Open All Night”, even though both were
blues and in the same key. Allen plays well behind the beat in his solo,
which features expressive smears, quarter tones, and blue notes. After a
dramatic solo by Hawkins and a smooth one by Dickenson, Russell plays
an extraordinary pair of choruses that shows that even an unintentional
squeak can become an integral part of a solo. Rex Stewart’s cornet solo
is delightful and the shot of him bouncing with joy at his own jokes is
one of my favorite shots in the show.
offers a change-of-pace from the blues, and Allen sings a fine
Armstrong-inspired chorus. All of the horns acquit themselves in their
solos, with the rhythm section offering fine support. Jo Jones plays a
wonderful drum solo, staying within the chorus structure and varying his
sounds to fit the chords. Allen’s final chorus is a masterpiece of
Allen, there was a brief commercial break. Apparently, there was no
sponsor for this show, and the only commercials on the kinescope are for
shows playing later in the evening on CBS. Today, we’re used to 15
minutes of advertising per hour on commercial TV; how refreshing to find
a commercial break with only one 30-second spot!
Sound of Jazz” marked Thelonious Monk’s first appearance on television.
Crosby’s intro fails to mention that in 1957, Monk was just starting to
be recognized for his unique contributions to modern jazz. His trio
played only one three-minute selection, but this version of “Blue Monk”
is one of Monk’s finest solos on film. Monk believed that using the
theme in improvisation was an important part of his music. Hentoff notes
that during rehearsals, Monk continued to refine his solo while
remaining within his allotted time frame. The solo is very thematic, but
contains several subtle and intriguing variations on the melody.
The visuals are almost as striking as the music. Monk wears a beret,
bamboo-framed dark glasses and a pair of soft-soled shoes. There is a
foot-tapping shot (which seems obligatory in jazz videos) that shows
Monk tapping and sliding his foot to the music. Count Basie sits in the
curve of the piano, obviously intrigued by Monk’s music (apparently,
Monk was not happy about Basie watching him), and there are widely
contrasting reaction shots of Coleman Hawkins, Jimmy Rushing and John
Crosby. If the viewer is surprised at Hawkins’ enthusiasm, he should be
reminded that Hawkins was one of Monk’s first employers!
Monk, the Basie All-Stars returned for two numbers. Crosby’s
introduction reveals another change: he refers to the rhythm section as
one of the most famous in jazz history, and then gives the names of
Basie, Freddie Green, Eddie Jones and Jo Jones. Of course, Crosby was referring to Basie’s All-American Rhythm Section, in which Walter Page
played bass. Page was scheduled to play the show, but was gravely ill,
and passed away 12 days after the show aired. Eddie Jones was Basie’s
current bassist and filled in for the Columbia recording and the CBS
broadcast. “I Left My Baby” features Jimmy Rushing’s
mournful blues singing and a tenor sax obbligato by Ben Webster. The
solos by Coleman Hawkins on tenor sax, Dicky Wells on trombone, Roy
Eldridge on flugelhorn and Count Basie on piano reflect the dramatic
tone of the piece.