All language subtitles for Little.Satchmo.2021.WEBRip.x264-ION10_English

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(SINGING) La-da-da, yes.

Louis Armstrong was
born in New Orleans,

the birthplace of jazz.

From his southern roots to
music ambassador of the world,

his influence is still with us.

Unknown to the
public, he fathered

one child in his life,
a daughter named Sharon.

He called her his
Little Satchmo.

This is her story.

[cassette clicks]

[on cassette tapeÑ: This
is Louis Satchmo Armstrong,

getting ready to send a bit of
a letter to a fine young lady

by the name of Miss
Sweets Preston.

And I know Sharon's a good girl.

She better be.

You Sharon?

Did you hear what I said?

You better be a very good
girl, because the present

that I have for you, I
won't give it to you.

I mean, if you miss
one time being good,

I ain't gonna give it to you.
[laughs]

Tough daddy, tough man,
because I come up the hard way,

and I ain't let you
get away with nothing.

Of course, I shouldn't say that.

But I'm just kidding, baby.

My name is Sharon Preston-Folta,

and I am Louis Armstrong's
daughter, his only child.

I have waited my entire lifetime
to say that publicly out loud,

because up until
this very moment,

I wasn't allowed to admit to
anyone other than my closest

family and friends that
the blood of a legend

runs through my veins.

[piano music]

And now, the number
that became our theme song

when it's sleepy
time down South.

On June 24, 1955, Louis
Armstrong became a father.

Lucille Preston
became a single mom.

And I, Sharon Louis
Preston, became invisible.

That's the way it was,
the way it had to be.

[trumpet playing]

Satchmo was married,
traveling in the rare air

of upper white society,
the kind of Black man

who put whites at
ease by defying

racial attitudes of the time.

Under that context, publicly
fawning over a child fathered

with his mistress wasn't exactly
an option for Louis Armstrong.

[trumpet playing]

It's widely believed he was
childless when he died in 1971.

There were even rumors
he was impotent.

The truth is, he always
wanted to be a father.

And I think he even
thought he was a good one.

But we had to keep
it all secret.

[gentle piano music]

For more than 50
years, I swallowed

that bitter secret whole.

Some days it went down easy.

Other days, I had
to choke it down.

Every faded memory, every
hushed conversation,

every missed moment
settling like rocks

in the pit of my stomach.

[jazz music playing]

Armstrong's views and
knowledge of fatherhood

were shaped by a
childhood without one.

He rarely talked or wrote about
his own father, whom he once

described as a sharp
man who, quote, "did not

have time to teach me anything,
because he was too busy chasing

the chippies. "

[jazz music playing]

My father was raised by
his grandmother, Josephine

Armstrong, in a rough New
Orleans neighborhood known

as The Battlefield, a
place my father described

as full of church people,
gamblers, hustlers,

cheap pimps,
thieves, prostitutes,

and lots of children.

♪

The city was such an amalgam
of cultures and influences,

Louis, short, chubby,
barefoot, and charming,

was a mischievous waif
who became the face of it.

Music was everywhere.

And he eventually followed
it up the Mississippi,

playing for three years
with a riverboat dance

band, which fully formed him
as a master at a young age.

But without a father,
Louis was brought up

with no male presence in his
life, no real example of how

to lead a family or
be a man in the world.

He adopted the attitude,
keep a wife and a stable

of sweethearts to #####

But always remember, the trumpet
is your one and only true love.

[trumpet playing]

Louis was married four times,
had countless one-nighters.

And numerous women
enjoyed his largesse.

One of his favorites had a
clandestine affair with him

that stretched 20 years
across performances,

tour dates, and continents.

That woman is my mother,
Lucille "Sweets" Preston.

[jazz music playing]

She was a small-town
Harlem girl.

She loved to dance.

She would make up
routines in a room

and pretend she was on one
of Harlem's chorus lines

she'd seen up close.

By 1940, she was working in
clubs in her native Harlem

and on the road, where she met
Luther "Slim" Preston, a lanky,

sky tall dancer with wiry
legs and mesmerizing rhythm.

They called themselves
Slim and Sweets.

They were loved and in love.

They toured on the
Chitlin' Circuit,

and under manager Joe
Glaser's care, opened

for some of the greatest
performers of the day, Count

Basie, Lionel Hampton,
Billie Holiday, the Nicholas

Brothers, Coles and Atkins,
and of course, Louis Armstrong.

[trumpet playing]

My father adored
Slim and Sweets.

My mother fell in
love with Louis

while performing in
the same nightclubs.

She never acted
on those feelings,

however, because she
was married to Slim.

My mother tells me that
she never really knew

how much everyone loved
and respected Slim

until he passed away in 1950.

Family, friends, fellow
dancers, entertainers,

and people in the industry
filled Slim and Sweets'

apartment for the repast.

Among them was Louis Armstrong.

I am told that he
crossed the living room,

took my mother's hand,
and boldly proclaimed,

I'm supposed to
take care of you.

He added, I'll be back tomorrow.

Those fateful words
marked the beginning

of my parents'
secret love affair

of more than two decades.

Mom opened herself
up to Louis's love.

She fell hard.

So, it seems, did Louis.

[jazz music playing]

♪

♪

[Louis Armstrong on tape]
Hello, Sweets.

It's your baby.

I'm sitting here all by myself.

All the cats are
all gone to bed.

Of course, they had a night out.

But I had to work all
day long in the studio.

The main thing I want to tell
you, I'm coming home soon.

We got about three more
dates, and homeward bound.

I sure would be glad to see
you and the little shiver.

How's my little
pregnant mother this AM?

Hmm?

I will do like the
farmer did the potato.

I will plant you now
and dig you later.

So be a sweet girl
for your daddy

and don't worry about a thing.

Yeah, this is the
letter written at 2:00

in the morning, where he's
thinking about where they would

be at 2:00 in the morning.

Yeah, that's the
way I'll state it.

So he's pretty descriptive.

[gentle piano music]

Her blind love and allegiance
had devastating consequences

for Sweets, a woman who
was hopelessly, tragically

in love with a man who she
never seemed to realize

would never be her own.

And here are photos of Mom,
the three of us, really.

In this picture, Mom
is pregnant with me,

sitting there with a
photo of Dad, me inside.

So it's the only photo where
I could say I'm actually

in there with my parents.

"Hmm, I hadn't
heard the good news

concerning my little
Satchmo being on its way

for two months.

Wow.

If you have a baby for me,
you must have no fear at all.

The baby must have
my name right away.

Oh, I'm so proud right now.

I forgot to ask you,
would you marry me?

Hmm.

Yes?

Yes?"

[jazz music playing]

She was in love with the most
famous Black man in the world

and carrying his child.

And he loved her back, but not
enough to claim her publicly,

not enough to tell the world
that he had a daughter,

and her name is Sharon Louise.

Louise, after Louis.

"You must remember, I've
never had a baby before.

P. S. , I never had a
baby before, you dig?

Now, don't say that I'm carried
away over it all, because I am.

Tee-hee.

With all my love
and more besides,

your future husband, Old
Satchmo, Louis Armstrong. "

My father made a lot of
promises to my mother.

She tucked them in her pockets,
in her dresser drawers,

in little boxes, in her heart,
in her mind, in her soul.

[MUSIC - LOUIS ARMSTRONG, "LAZY
RIVER"]

(SINGING) Up the lazy river
where the old mill runs.

Whenever he was in town, he
was there with us, his family.

And in the summers, he took us
on tour with him as his family.

He was saving up for a house
to keep with us, his family.

And so my mom kept Louis
Armstrong's secret,

followed his very specific
instructions on how to lie low,

until the two of
them could go public.

[(SINGING "LAZY RIVER"])
♪ Throw away your troubles.

♪ Dream a dream of me.

♪ Dream a dream of me.

Sweets would travel far
and wide to meet Louis.

His valet, Doc Pugh,
served as a go-between,

channeling all
communications whenever

she needed money or just
wanted to get a letter to him.

[jazz music playing]

It was the music that deluded me

into thinking my father was
around more

than he actually was.

I can remember many times waking
up in the middle of the night

and hearing my
father's music playing

on the stereo downstairs.

I'd tiptoe down
the steps and peek

into the darkened den, where my
mother would be sitting alone

with her glass of what we
called her Sherry Herring

and the sound of my
father's records.

[jazz music playing]

Sometimes, I heard her crying.

Other times, when
the record ended

and the needle crackled
against the wax,

the silence would take over.

It was deafening.

I'd turn around and go
back upstairs, pretending

I'd never heard a thing.

[jazz music playing]

I would see him on TV, in
a newspaper, or a magazine,

off carrying his duties
as a US ambassador.

Our ambassador of jazz.

Louis Satchmo Armstrong,
whose golden trumpet

has preached the gospel
of New Orleans jazz

on every continent.

We clung to those
moments, every one of them,

grateful for what
we did have of him.

[MUSIC - "SUZY CUTE"]

(SINGING)
♪ Suzy plays, Suzy swings.

♪ And you can get her
all these things. ♪

♪ Little baby Suzy Cute.

♪ Oh yes.

♪ That's my baby, Suzy Cute.

And this is some of
his creative artwork.

And it's a collage.

It's got my father's face in
here three times, Mom in here.

But what struck me
was, at the bottom,

he wrote in his
famous green pen ink

signatures, family portrait.

Girls, Suzy Cute needs a mummy.

Suzy Cute needs you.

Louis adored the
idea of being a daddy.

He dangled that elation
and that divorce

talk in front of Sweets'
face like a carrot.

And she bit, because
she adored him.

She fell hard for
the sweet talker

with the horn and
that Louisiana charm.

A sweet talker, he
most certainly was.

[Louis Armstrong on tape] But I
want to know how you're feeling.

And quite naturally, I'm sure
you're otherwise doing all right.

My man's taking care everything.

And wish you all the happiness.

And I know Sharon's a good girl.

[gently piano music]

It's the car I remember, that
long, black, shiny limousine

floating down the street,
chin in my tiny hand,

face sometimes
pressed to the window,

sometimes aimed at whatever show
happened to be on my uncle's

black and white television set.

I'd imagine that somewhere in
the back of that big old car,

my father sat, dressed in his
elegant suit and fine shoes,

his horn never far
away, waiting to fold

mother and me into his massive
arms, excited to see us, happy.

When we knew he was on
his way, it was magic.

My mother would
start preparations

from almost the second the
phone handset connected

with its cradle.

My father would
call or write her

with the details
of his schedules

the clubs where
he'd be performing,

how long he'd be in town,
when he'd be able to visit us.

And she'd head straight to
Macy's, John Wanamaker's,

or Gimbels, to round up a
new, colorful, fancy pinafore,

lace ankle socks, and shiny
patent leather Mary Jane shoes

just for me.

The night before
his arrival would

be spent in the kitchen,
squatting between my mother's

knees as she pulled the hot
comb and wads of DAX grease

through my thick curls.

I looked pretty, elegant.

My mother made sure of it.

I was, after all, Louis
Armstrong's daughter,

his Little Satchmo.

[MUSIC - "I WANT A LITTLE GIRL"]

(SINGING) ♪ I want a
little girl to love a lot. ♪

♪ I'd give anything.

And then came the waiting.

[ticking]

My mother, always by the
window or the telephone,

alternately looking for the
car and listening for the phone

call that would alert her to
my father's exact arrival.

[MUSIC - "I WANT A LITTLE GIRL"]

(SINGING) ♪ I want
a little girl. ♪

And it absolutely delighted
me to fall into his embrace

and feel his lips on my
cheek and smell his scent.

He'd take a firm look at me
and smile that 1,000-watt smile

and hand me a sock full of coins
he'd saved up just for me while

he toured.

That feeling, that closeness
I felt to my father,

would be fleeting,
would last about

as long as it took for
him to pull away from me,

then take my mother by
the hand and lead her

into the bedroom,
where they would

stay secluded for the
remainder of his short visits.

And then I would plop
down on the floor

and dump out all the
coins and run my fingers

across the pennies
and the nickels

and the occasional coin
from some distant land

my father had traveled
to, completely

unaware of how much money
I'd poured onto the floor,

but excited and grateful anyway,
because my daddy had bought

them special, just for me.

"Give Sharon a big kiss.

Tell her, if she's forgotten
old Satchmo, I don't blame her.

I feel she's too
young to understand.

Regardless, I love her, and
I am saving money, especially

for her college education.

Whatever college
she wishes to go to,

I got her covered, because
as long as old Satchmo lives,

her happiness is assured. "

Louis Armstrong said he
would take care of Sweets

and their baby, his family.

And she believed him, because
the checks were coming.

[scatting]

But I wanted so much
more than his money.

I wanted, needed him.

[scatting]

Chances were always that
if he had a performance,

Sweets knew that the
Lucille who bore his name

could show up at
any moment, looking

for the best seat in the house.

Sweets could accept Louis's
invitations to the club

where he played,
only if she came

with her beard, Sharon's uncle.

Every move they made
had to be stealth.

My father couldn't acknowledge
her presence in any grand way

or tell anyone other than
his closest associates

what he was consistently telling
my mother I want for you.

I want for you to be my wife.

It's you and me.

"I want you to know that I
love you and Sharon dearly,

and from the bottom of my
heart, and always will.

The only things
missing is that I

am starving to see you and be
with you more moments than you

may think.

Whether you want me or not,
you will have to marry me.

I pray to God every
day for that moment. "

[jazz music playing]

This in particular,
my uncle couldn't stand.

The sneaking around is
what he used to call it.

I called it simply fun.

There was nothing like
being a five-year-old

in the dressing room of
one of my father's gigs,

or especially on the tour
bus with him and his band.

It was something to
put my little hand

into that massive palm of my
father's and climb the stairs

up into that huge automobile.

[jazz music playing]

The whole world, it
seemed, would show up

with pen and paper in hand,
waiting for the bus doors

to open and my father to tumble
down the stairs, his laughter

and those big old bright
eyes delighting anyone who

happened to be in the vicinity.

We just pulled into
our stop for the night

when two young white
kids walked by.

One said, very excitedly, look,
this is Louis Armstrong's bus.

So what?

The other sneered.

He's just another nigger.

I'll never forget the look on
my father's face, how deeply it

sliced and seared.

My father turned to me
and said, in this world,

no matter how big you get,
you'll always be a nigger.

Flawed as it was, that was
one of the few instances

in which Louis spoke
wisdom to me as a father,

as if he had something he
needed desperately to share

with me, daddy to daughter.

Louis Armstrong had
adoring fans who

spanned the globe in cultures,
backgrounds, languages,

experiences, and races.

Though he faced
mounting criticism

for not hitching himself fully
and vocally to the Civil Rights

movement, my father cared
deeply about the conditions

of his people.

[MUSIC - "WHEN THE SAINTS
GO MARCHING IN"]

(SINGING) ♪ Yes I want
to be in that number ♪

♪ when the saints go
marching in. ♪

♪

He was not there to
potty train me or wean me

from a bottle or
outstretch his arms to me

as I took my first step.

He wasn't there to teach
me how to tie my shoes

or cut my meat
with a sharp blade

or ride a two-wheeler
with the wind in my face.

But this, this is
one of those lessons

he'd left for me,
that there will always

be people who feel that way,
the way those kids felt.

And that's reality.

[jazz music playing]

While other
children made the most

of what Harlem had
to offer, my mother,

fully aware that her sole
job was to take care of me,

made a point of taking me
outside the neighborhood

to experience much more.

[jazz music playing]

We'd get on the 5th
Avenue bus around the corner

from our building and ride
downtown to Central Park,

alternating between
grabbing the rings

on the colorful,
legendary carousel

and prancing in the grass on the
grounds of one of the many park

playgrounds.

♪

I was very fortunate
to have all the material

trappings of being raised upper
middle class, private school,

roller skates, ice skates,
and private music lessons.

I got a new bike
every other year,

the latest toys at
Christmas and birthdays.

And I had a fabulous
collection of Barbie dolls.

The money my father provided Mom
and me gave us the opportunity

to live a life like my
classmates and people

that we went to church with.

Other times, we'd go to the
Metropolitan Museum of Art

and marvel at all of the
great works of the masters.

And we'd visit the Museum
of Natural History.

Or at the behest of
my father, Joe Glaser

would send my mother
tickets to Broadway plays.

Those afternoons were heaven,
full of fantasy and majesty,

going around and
around on that carousel

and feeling free and seeing
everyone smiling and happy

and getting dressed up in
my finest, and mother too,

to take in a play.

Classic.

This wasn't what people
I grew up around did.

This, I gather, is what my
father held onto as evidence

that he was a good father
to me, the fact that he

was a sound provider.

He always emphasized that
my future was on his mind.

He paid for private
school, and until the day

he died, saved for
my college education.

[band playing]

♪

Come on, folks.

Everybody sing.

And this really gives me a
sense of the iconic stature

of my father.

A trip to Hawaii, taking a
publicity photo for Pan Am.

And on that trip, they
created a special menu

for him and his crew.

And this is sent to my mother.

Honey, dig this ####

Pops.

My mother's rent was covered by
the many checks Dad had sent us

through Joe Glaser.

And eventually, he
even saved up enough

to have Glaser buy us a house
in Mount Vernon, New York.

It was a great house with a
huge indoor wraparound porch.

We had three floors with
two bedrooms upstairs,

a living room,
dining room, kitchen,

and a den on the main
level, and a full basement.

We also had a big backyard,
a side yard, and a two car

garage.

But we never had a car,
because mom didn't drive.

And even though friends,
company, and family visited us

in that big house
in Mount Vernon,

it was still very lonely.

"Impress upon Sister Sharon,
she has her own home paid for.

Wow.

I travel all over the world,
and I don't see these things.

Tell Sharon she is the most
blessed child in the world.

The only thing she
will probably miss

is the lovely, juicy kisses
she gives to her daddy Satchmo.

Tee-hee.

And believe me, that
little chick can kiss.

I love them and miss them.

So tell Sharon, if she ever
forgets Satch, she's nowhere. "

Our years in Mount
Vernon turned out

to be the darkest of our lives.

By the time we
moved there in 1962,

my parents were in the
12th year of their affair.

Mom was putting up
with the situation,

but she was getting
increasingly tired of being

the woman on the side and
was starting to pressure

my father about marriage.

[MUSIC - "SOMETIMES I FEEL
LIKE A MOTHERLESS CHILD"]

(SINGING) ♪ Sometimes I feel
like a motherless child. ♪

♪ Sometimes I feel like
a motherless child. ♪

♪ Sometimes I feel.

I was always a little
chubby as a toddler.

But I had become very
overweight as a young child,

weighing in at 135 pounds
by the time I was eight.

The teasing was relentless.

Food and television,
they were my comforters.

Often, I was left
alone in my silence.

Panel, as you know,
one question at a time,

in turn, moving clockwise.

We'll begin.

The same was true of my mother,

who seemed to find solace only
in the rhythm of my father's

horn.

It was when we were
in Mount Vernon

that dad made his most famous
pop recordings, "Hello Dolly"

and "What a Wonderful World. "

[MUSIC - "WHAT
A WONDERFUL WORLD"]

(SINGING)
♪ What a wonderful world.

Louis Satchmo Armstrong.

[scatting]

♪

Each of these things
made me happy, my mom too.

But one of the hardest and most
confusing parts of my childhood

was viewing all the
press about my father

and never seeing anything
about my mother and me.

He cared about us, sure.

But clearly, we were
outsiders in his world.

I can vividly recall a
visit he made to our home

in Mount Vernon, where I
watched him like a hawk,

trying to commit to
memory his daily habits.

I recall on a recent
trip to England, Louis,

you kind of shattered protocol.

I remember him
standing in the kitchen,

listening intently to the radio.

It's important you keep up
with current events, he boomed.

I nodded, grateful for even
that small morsel of advice

from my dad.

[MUSIC - "NOBODY KNOWS
THE TROUBLE I'VE SEEN"]

(SINGING)
♪ Nobody knows my sorrow.

Soon though, I
was asking questions

about my father, each one flying
at my mother at a rapid clip.

When was he going
to live with us?

Why weren't we traveling with
him in the summers anymore?

Why was my name Preston
instead of Armstrong?

Mom's answers were
always evasive.

I'd be left to my own
assumptions, my own fantasies.

[MUSIC - "LITTLE GIRL BLUE"]

(SINGING)
♪ Little girl blue.

They played out in my closet,
a walk-in affair with a small

window overlooking the side
of our house and driveway.

I'd sit in that
closet for hours,

marveling at the squirrels
dancing from one tree

to the next.

I wondered what my
father was doing

and when he'd be
coming back to us.

It was in that
closet that I stared

at a picture my mom had of him
with a little blonde child.

They were smiling at each
other, and she was hugging him.

And he was hugging her back,
a vision that haunted me,

because I'd never known such
affection from Louis Armstrong.

I didn't and still don't have
any pictures of us together.

Well, this is a great photo
of him smiling and, you know,

hugging a young fan.

But I would see this, and
I would see many pictures

like this, hugging fans and
looking similar to this,

and would just wish it were me.

So it would make
me a little sad.

But I just saw a lot of it
and was pretty used to it.

When he wasn't there, it was his
shirt that brought me to life,

a Hawaiian style print
he left over at our house

after one of his rare visits.

It was huge and blue gray
with pale yellow flowers

and sandy leaves.

It had his smell on it,
the smell I later realized

was a mix of an earthy
aftershave, cigarettes,

cologne, and weed.

I hoarded it in my
closet, my secret place.

And occasionally,
I'd dance with it

or put it on or
sway to his music,

or just hug it like he did that
little girl in the picture.

[MUSIC - "UNCLE SATCHMO'S
LULLABY"]

(SINGING) ♪ Lu la lu
la lu, lu la lu la ly. ♪

♪ Uncle Satchmo's lullaby.

[Louis Armstrong on tape] I just
thought I'd send this tune to you,

because I just finished
recording it with a little

11-year-old child,
German girl of course,

by the name of Gabriele.

And she's smart as a whip.

She remind me so much
of Sharon, that I

thought I'd just
send you this tune,

"Uncle Satchmo's Lullaby. "

Isn't it beautiful?

[girl singing in German]

(Louis singing)
♪ And I say good night.

How do you like my German, baby?

[speaking German]

[girl singing in German]

I'm the only child
Louis Armstrong ever had.

He knew it, my mother knew
it, and I know it too.

[scatting]

Though the feeling was
fleeting, in those moments,

I felt close to him,
like he really was there.

But he wasn't.

And by age 10, after
all the questions,

after all the secrets,
I finally found out why.

Here's Johnny.

[applause]

I was, as usual, perched in
front of the television set,

alone in my thoughts while
I waited for my father

to sit in Johnny Carson's
chair on "The Tonight Show. "

This was a big deal for me,
a big deal for any African

American who thought it exciting
to see a Black person on TV.

But obviously, more
so for me, because,

well, that person was my dad.

One of the most extraordinary
forces in all of music

is with us tonight,
Louis Armstrong.

[applause]

He was so alive in
that chair, sitting there

with his humongous personality,
talking and being so very

cavalier in his conversation,
which centered on his doings

with Lucille.

And my wife Lucille
and I, we [inaudible]

A feeling of sheer horror
washed over me like a tsunami.

So he asks me, he says,
have you any children?

I said, well, no Daddy.

But we're still willing.

[laughter]

[cheering, applause]

I couldn't believe
what I was hearing.

Each word morphed into a siren,
blaring this one true thing.

The Lucille my father
was speaking about

was not my mother.

The house was not our house.

Did he ask you what
your religion was?

The life which he was
laughing and bragging

about to the world, to me,
was not my own, not ours.

My wife is. she's Catholic.

As fast as my
feet could carry me,

I rushed down the
stairs from my room

to where my mother sat in
the den staring at the TV.

So when he told me he's
going to pray for me.

Mom, I demanded, what
is he talking about?

Who is Lucille?

What house in Corona?

He says his wife
Lucille lives in Corona,

but I know he's not
talking about you.

She won't give him a
divorce, she insisted.

He loves us, and
he would be with us

if he could just get a divorce.

But he has to be with her.

Stunned by her confirmation,
I backed out of the den,

stumbled back upstairs and
numbly cast myself down

onto my bed.

The pillow made quick
work of muffling my cries,

catching my tears.

[MUSIC - "UNCLE
SATCHMO'S LULLABY"]

♪ Iu la lu la ly
lullaby. ♪

This is when I was 10.

This is really when life
changed a lot for me.

And I really learned another
part about my family.

This is when I learned
that my father was

married to Lucille Armstrong.

But this is my confirmation,
so it was a good day.

"Dear Sharon, your daddy
Satchmo love you very much.

I think of you every day.

May the Lord bless. "

My father had invited
my mother and me

to see him perform at the
Steel Pier in Atlantic City.

We all went out to check out
Marvin Gaye, who was performing

at a nearby club.

I, a fan of the Motown
sound, and an adolescent

who, for the first time, had
a girl crush on a sexy soul

singer, was in love
with Marvin Gaye.

My father had a
problem with this.

My father actually
got upset when I asked

to see Gaye's second show.

He didn't yell or
overreact to me.

But he wasn't his
usual easygoing self,

which is the side
of him I always saw.

Suddenly, my mother
who was visibly upset,

pulled me over to the side and
said, you made your father mad.

You should have never asked
to see the second show.

You should have never asked him.

The last thing I
remember hearing

was my mother
shouting to my father,

when are you going to marry me?

My father yelled back, never.

I stood there, bleary-eyed,
confused, heartbroken.

We cut our vacation short
and left the next day.

All of us were
shaken to the core.

And my mother, with a
12-year-old daughter

to care for, was
forced, finally,

to let go of her happily ever
after with Louis Armstrong

fantasy, and realized that
the other woman in his life,

the Lucille who wore
his wedding ring,

had a hold on the part
of my father's heart

that my mother could
never ever have.

[trumpet playing]

While the other Lucille
carefully and meticulously

enjoyed the life that we'd hoped
to have with Louis Armstrong,

my mother and I lived
in their shadow.

"P. S. , if you're ready to
bury the hatchet, I am, huh?

Well, dear, it's been
a long time no see.

But don't think for
once that I don't think

about you every living day.

Of course, I take it for granted
that you're OK in every way.

That's my consolation, anyway.

Give my little daughter
a big kiss for her daddy.

Tell her I love her much, much,
much, which means a whole lots.

I love you too, darling.

Of course, you
already knows that.

How could you think otherwise
after all these years?

Now, you just stop your pouting
and give your Daddy Satch

a big smile with
the nicest thought

that you ever had in your mind.

Love aplenty, Satch,
Louis Armstrong. "

[MUSIC - "CABARET"]

(SINGING) ♪ blow your horn,
start celebrating. ♪

♪ Right this way.

♪ Your table's waiting.

It was a year before Sweets
would take Louis's calls

and let him into their home.

Not long after that,
he became very ill

and spent months in a hospital
for heart and kidney failure.

Louis wanted nothing
more than to play.

He refused doctor's orders
to cut back on his schedule.

To Louis, putting
down his instrument

meant he was giving in
to the illness, to death.

He needed to blow that
horn, and so he did.

"Dear Sweets and Sharon, don't
you all get the least idea I

don't love y'all's dirty
drawers, because I do.

Mr. Glaser has his instructions,
keep Sweets and Sharon happy.

Dig?

You have nothing
to squawk about.

The only thing missing is me.

Huh, that can come
later, just like

and when it's supposed to be.

Sharon may not realize
how and what I mean to her

and doing for her.

But I am sure, as
she matures, she'll

dig Pops as the man who will
be loving her until the day he

dies or she dies.

That's sincerity and
from the heart stuff.

God knows I love you both madly.

From your boy, Louis Armstrong. "

In that letter was $700 cash,

$500 of which he sent at
my mother's direction

for a new accordion for me.

And the rest, he added
so that mom could

buy something nice for herself.

The last time we saw him
was at one of his New York

performances.

Mom and I went backstage
for a short visit

in his dressing room.

We were among many guests,
and our brief hello

was anything but
private and personal,

though he did ask
me about school

and how I was progressing
with my music lessons.

We were just part of the
entourage, nothing special.

Louis Armstrong died
this morning at his home

in New York in his sleep.

He was 71.

And although he had been
quite sick earlier this year.

Mom jumped up and screamed.

I froze.

Just like that, my father was
gone from our lives forever.

Armstrong was one of
the greatest musicians

in the history of jazz,
a legendary entertainer.

My mother eventually
folded me in her embrace.

But we offered little
comfort to each other.

Louis Armstrong's death was
promptly reported in Moscow.

We'd spend the rest
of the evening staring

at the television
until we fell asleep.

(SINGING) ♪ Refuse to shine.

Armstrong was laid out in
the New York State Armory.

More than 25,000 fans got
to say goodbye to him.

But his family was
forced to stay away.

Sharon's aunt was one
of the many mourners

and served as a silent
representative for the family.

(SINGING) ♪ When the saints.

Days later, they received
a stack of saving bonds

that he had been keeping for
Sharon's college education, 25

bonds and $1,000 each.

He didn't live with us, true.

And by the time he died,
we hadn't physically

seen him for two years.

But while he was no
more, his presence

still felt constant, surreal,
because my mother wouldn't

let him go, because I had so
many unanswered questions,

because the world loved
Louis Armstrong and his music

so much that his fans all
but defined him, completely

unaware of his complexities,
his perfect imperfections.

[MUSIC - "NOBODY KNOWS THE
TROUBLE I'VE SEEN"]

(SINGING)
♪ Glory,

♪ hallelujah.

I can remember, when I was
10 years old, walking away

from the Jones Beach Theater
with my father, mother,

and uncle.

My cousin, who traveled with
us during the summers, at 16,

became a single mother.

My father turned
to me and said, I

want to let you know, if
it ever happens to you,

don't worry about it.

I'll be there for you.

How ironic that I turned
16, my father passed away.

And a month later,
it did happen to me.

And of course, he was not there.

That I, daughter
of Louis Armstrong,

became pregnant as
a teen should come

as neither shock nor surprise.

The statistics tell the story.

Children in
single-parent households

are more likely to get pregnant
as teenagers than their peers

who grow up with two parents.

No one noticed the
promiscuity, the exploitation.

[Louis Armstrong on tape]
Well, I'll be seeing you, fräulein.

That's what they call the
ladies over here, "fräulein"

My life of secrecy
continued in a new chapter,

the secret child now
having a secret child.

After a while, it
becomes a way of being.

Confused and frightened,
I kept it to myself,

willing it to go away.

It did not.

I'm so tired right now,
I couldn't raise an eyelid.

The gang here all said hello.

And just as my boyfriend
and I went our separate ways,

Dave Gold and
Associated Booking Corp

sent the last savings bond
that my father had purchased

for my college education,
effectively ending

the last connection
between Louis Armstrong

and my mother and me.

My mother ended up taking a
job as a cook at the Christian

Brothers residence at
Iona Prep School preparing

weeknight dinners.

With bills piling up and a huge
debt of taxes on the house,

my mother sold our Mount Vernon
residence for not much more

than the original
price from 1962.

By 1976, I'd earned an associate
degree in liberal arts.

I transferred to Iona College
and graduated with a BA

in communication arts.

In time, my mother got
a full-time position

with the Girl Scouts and was
hired as a cook for the priest

at Holy Family Church, a
job that lasted 17 years.

My father had disconnected
us from his life

while he was living.

And his death made it
all the more glaring.

I was ashamed of the fact that
his blood ran through my veins.

I kicked off my
newfound independence

by finally moving
away from my mother.

I was an account
executive at the only jazz

station in the area, a success
despite the heartbreak,

despite the odds.

And just when I was willing to
open my heart, I met Howard.

Howard and I may seem
like a very unlikely pair.

He says, for him, it
was love at first sight.

For me, the connection
was pure, because he

was and is a man I can trust.

Through the years, and
becoming a grandmother,

I knew in the back
of my mind that I

had to resolve the
legacy of my father.

I found out firsthand how I'd
been successfully and legally

erased from Louis
Armstrong's life

with just a few
strokes of a pen.

This is an amendment to his
will signed by his surviving

wife, Lucille Armstrong.

She crossed out, "and I",
changing the document,

the deceased never
had any children.

And then wrote in, "nor did
he ever adopt any children. "

Seeing this document
just really made

me know that this
rendered me invisible.

[jazz music playing]

It was right then, right there,

that I decided to tell my
story, to tell the world

that I am here, that I matter.

Finally, mom agreed.

No more secrets.

It was with her blessing
that I set out on my journey

to discover myself,
to discover my father.

Today, I walk with
my head held high,

the truth bathing me in light.

My son, my grandchildren, my
family, my friends, and now

the world know Louis
Armstrong did indeed

have a child, a daughter.

And she is alive.

And the blood of the father of
jazz runs through her veins.

And she has a name
and a heart that beats

and a tongue that can finally
profess loudly, succinctly,

with conviction, I am
Sharon Preston-Folta,

Louis Armstrong's
daughter, his only child.

I've waited my entire lifetime
to say that publicly out loud.

And this was given to me with
that old school lamination

Scotch tape.

And it's a special note,
"Thank you, Sharon.

I love, ooooh, four o's, which
means you, your pappy Satch. "

And not sure what
the expression is,

if he's laughing or
crying or just singing.

But he thought that this
was the photo he wanted

to send to me with a note.

And there are so many
things that I didn't keep.

I'm so happy that
this is still one.

[MUSIC - "BOY FROM
NEW ORLEANS"]

(SINGING) ♪ You are very
kind to Old Satchmo. ♪

♪ Yes.

♪ Nice looking boy.

We were deprived
of having my father.

And he made it painfully clear
that he was deprived too.

[Louis Armstrong on tape] Anyway,
good night. And God bless you.

From your old boy, old Satchmo,
gizzard Louis Armstrong.

(SINGING) ♪ This old
boy from New Orleans. ♪

His legacy was built on
making people happy and at ease.

And anything to tarnish
that legacy was dangerous.

But Satchmo was more
than a caricature.

He had desires.

He had longings.

He had secrets.

And in private, he made
sure to defend the things

that he loved.

And one of those was me.

But we always longed for more.

I still do.

And I know in my
heart, so did he.

Hi, Dad.

I thought that telling our
story would bring me some peace.

And it has.

But it's left me with so
many more questions too.

There is some sliver of
light that reminds me

of all the things I loved
about you, your hearty laugh,

how special we felt to
be in your presence,

the way that grumbly,
froggy voice of yours

sang out my name, Sharon.

Until now, I've been
nothing more than an enigma,

a footnote in your narrative,
worthy, in some cases,

of not even a sentence
in your public life.

But yet, we were so much
more a part of your heart,

being rendered invisible hurts.

I need you to know that.

But I've come to
accept that you did

what you thought you could
do, and that was best for all.

It wasn't, but that
doesn't make you any less

my father, the man whose
shadow I lived in all my life,

the one who shaped me, shaped
who I am, and loved me.

Love, Sharon, your
Little Satchmo.

[MUSIC - "UNCLE SATCHMO'S
LULLABY"]

♪ Lu la lu la lu,
lu la lu la ly. ♪

♪ Uncle Satchmo's lullaby.

♪

[jazz music playing]

♪

♪