All language subtitles for JAZZ - 05 - Swing Pure Pleasure (1935-1937)

[Steppin' into swing society
Playing]

man: I think it's
terribly important that

jazz is primarily dance music.

So, you move
when you hear it,

and it always moves
in a direction of elegance,

which is the most
civilized thing that
a human being can do.

The ultimate extension,
elaboration, and refinement
of effort

is elegance where just doing it
gives pleasure of itself.

That's about as far
as we can get with life.

That's equivalent to what
Ernest Hemingway called

the sweat on a wine bottle.

If you don't enjoy how those
beads of sweat look, you know,

when you pour the white wine out
and you taste it

and how your partner looks
and how the sunlight comes
through, you missed it.

[Ridin' high Playing]

Man: January 1, 1936...
The swingos think that swing

is marking an indelible notation
on the evolution of jazz.

With them,
it's a creed, a code.

That's why the swing addicts
seem so glazed and dazed

in their nth degree appreciation
of this...Swing business...

So what is swing?

Ask any one of the swingoists,
and they all vamp off, "well,
swing is something like..."

But none seems able to define
just what it is.

Abel green. Variety.

narrator: In the mid 1930s,
as the great depression
stubbornly refused to lift,

jazz came as close
as it has ever come

to being america's
popular music.

It had a new name now--swing--

and its impact
was revolutionary.

Swing rescued
the recording industry.

In 1932,
just 10 million records had
been sold in the United States.

By 1939, that number would grow
to 50 million.

Swing--which had grown up
in the dancehalls of Harlem--

would become the defining music
for an entire generation
of Americans.

Man: I think that we all
have a hankering for the music

we were hearing when we were
14, 15, 16 years old.

I think that never
gets away from us,

and with me,
it was the swing bands.

That was my music.
This is where I was coming from.

This is the thing that gripped
my heart at the beginning,

and as is the case with anybody,
those things that you picked up

early in your life are the ones
you turn back to, you know,

when you want a little solace.

[Bugle call rag Playing]

Man: People needed
dance music, maybe more
than ever in america,

because the country
was in such doldrums.

So I think people needed
the escape of going to the savoy

and to those other places
to dance.

They needed those bands.

As an antidote
to the depression,
I think swing music

did as much as mgm musicals
to help america through.

Narrator: Swing provided
Hollywood with its theme music

and offered entertainment,
elegance, and escape for
a people down on their luck.

Radios and jukeboxes could
be heard playing swing along
every main street in america,

providing the accompaniment

for a host of
exhilarating new dances--

the big apple
and little peach,

the shag and susy q,

and the dance that had
started it all--

the Lindy hop--
now called jitterbugging.

Hundreds of bands
were on the road--

and young people
followed the careers

of the musicians
who played in them

just as they followed
their favorite baseball players.

Millions of white Americans
who had never listened
to jazz before

suddenly filled ballrooms
and theaters all over
the country--

the aragon in Chicago,

the alcazar in Baltimore,
and the Ali baba in Oakland;

the twilight
in fort dodge, Iowa,

and the moonlight
in canton, Ohio...

The arcadia ballroom in Detroit,

the Paramount theater
in New York,

and the palomar ballroom
in Los Angeles,

where Benny Goodman
had thrilled audiences

with his version of the music
first played by Louis Armstrong,

Fletcher Henderson, chick webb
and Duke Ellington.

Man: Swing music was
an electrifying development
in American popular culture.

It unleashed forces that,
I think, people didn't
know existed.

There had been dance bands,
sweet bands, sentimental bands,

but when Benny Goodman
reached those kids

at the palomar ballroom
in California,

it was like 20 years later
with rock and roll.

He was playing
a swinging rough music

that had been played
in black communities for years.

Ellington, you know,
wrote It don't mean a thing
If it ain't got that swing

3 years earlier,

and chick webb's band
was doing it

and Fletcher Henderson's.

It swept the country.

It was--it unleashed
some kind of pent-up excitement

and--and--and physicality
that I think nobody was
quite prepared for.

Also, this was the depression.
It was not an easy period.

And this was a music that
was just pure pleasure,
pure physical pleasure.

[Blue skies Playing]

Man: We are getting this money
out just as fast as we can

because we are anxious to get
the unemployed from relief rolls
onto payrolls.

We are not only building roads,
we are building Bridges,
we're building dams...

It is going into
public buildings
and various other projects.

Man: Song is the wind-chime
of memory,

and these were our songs.

They were part of
the daily ordinary...

And this, I think, is what took
Benny over the gap,

out of jazz,
into the American parlor.

He arrived with Blueskies.
Well, we knew Blue skies.

I mean, everybody knew
Irving Berlin so that
we were home free.

This is our guy.

Narrator: Within a month of
Benny Goodman's unexpected
success at the palomar,

his records stood at number 3,
number two, and number one in
California record stores.

He was 26 years old
and already being billed
as the "king of swing."

Suddenly, his music
was everywhere,

and Goodman, the reticent son
of Jewish immigrants from
the slums of Chicago,

was becoming a matinee idol.

Woman: I kind of was in love
with Benny Goodman.

I don't know why.

I thought he looked great,

and I loved the way
he just stood there,

and he didn't over--
you know--emphasize himself.

He was cool. To me,
he was a cool guy--in my youth.

You know,
I was 16 years old, 17.

Radio announcer:
The "king of swing".

Yes, sir, it's Benny Goodman
himself, playing...

Gordon: And I used to put
the radio on at high volume

and put my ear to it
to hear gene krupa,

and my mother would go crazy,
saying, "what are you doing?"

I said, "mom, shh!
I gotta hear this!"

Narrator: On march 3, 1937,
Benny Goodman's orchestra began
a two-week engagement

at the Paramount theater
in Times Square.

Until then, they had played
hotels and ballrooms

where alcohol was served
and the customers were
mostly adults.

[Sing sing sing Playing]

But at the Paramount,
everyone was welcome.

For the first time,
high-school students,

who had been buying up
Benny Goodman's records,

now had a chance to see
their hero in person.

Collier: The moment had come,

and they were
pouring out of the subways
around Times Square in mobs,

and the police didn't know
what was going on.

Where were all these kids
coming from?

What was it all about?

Gordon: The music had such
an incredible beat that it just
brought you out of yourself

and you got out of your seat
and you danced with whoever--
a stranger, you didn't know.

But it was just fun to get up
and move with that beat.

Collier: And the kids started
jitterbugging in the aisles...

Right up around the stage,
and some of them even jumping
up on the stage.

And that was what triggered
a great deal of publicity,

and Benny Goodman then,
although he had been successful,

now he had become
really an icon.

A great--a great hero
of popular culture.

Giddins: Benny was
a good role model.

He comes out,
he looks like a gentleman,

and then, in the middle
of a clarinet solo,

all of a sudden,
he's got one foot raised,
and he's hopping around,

then he sits down on a chair,
and he practically falls over,

and he becomes completely
consumed in the music,

and this is mesmerizing
for an audience because
it's not a show,

it's not a put-on--
it's Goodman.

Maher: The thing about Benny
that was so great was that
it was kind of an explosion.

He showed up on the scene,
completely unknown as far
as we were concerned.

We knew Ellington,
we knew all the other big names,

and here is this kid
nobody had ever heard of.

And overnight, this guy walks
into the American parlor with
jazz by the scruff of its neck.

And all of a sudden, jazz,
which was almost a cult music,

has become
American popular music,

and that's what Goodman did.

[Single petal of a rose
Playing]

Man: Jazz music
is not race music.

Everybody plays jazz music.
Everybody has always played it.

But if you teach the history
of jazz, you have white bands
and black bands.

But musicians don't
learn that way.

See, this is the big lie
in the way that it's taught.

Benny Goodman was going to learn
the clarinet from whoever
he could.

That's how music is.

You hear something you like,
and you want to play like that.

It's not so much that he was
the great white hope,

it's just that
the majority of people

who bought the records
were white,

the majority of people who wrote
about it were white,

the record companies were owned
by white people.

Just the music came out of
the afro-American community.

So it just stands to logic
and reason that the king of it
would be white.

Now, Benny Goodman himself
didn't think that.

Interviewer: Where did
you get your ideas from?

The ideas? Oh, man,
I got a million dreams.

It's all I do is dream...
All the time.

Interviewer: I thought
you played piano.

No. This not piano;
This is dreaming.

[Playing Symphony in black]

that's dreaming.

Murray: Ellington once defined
jazz as "negro feelings,"

by which he meant American negro
feelings put to rhythm and tune.

Ellington's music represented
the musical equivalent

to the American spirit
of affirmation in the face
of adversity.

It was constantly creative,
you know?

It generated resilience which
made an experimental attitude
possible.

Meant you developed
an experimental disposition...

Narrator: Duke Ellington never
publicly complained

about Benny Goodman's coronation
as "the king of swing"

or the enormous popularity
of the new, mostly white bands
that followed in his wake.

"Jazz is music," he said.
"Swing is business."

[Solitude Playing]

He continued on
his own independent course,
refusing to be categorized.

By doing that, his trumpeter
Rex Stewart remembered,

"he could stand above
his contemporaries...

In the manner
of a god descending
from olympian heights...

Let the world catch up."

Man: He was writing
for a special orchestra,

and he was not going
to be carried away

by a new trend or a new--
a new kind of style

just to say,
well, he's among them.

He wasn't worried about whether
he's number one or two or 3.

He wanted to be honest
to himself,

to what he wanted
to do with that orchestra.

And so he just swam through
the whole thing and still
comes out to be an immortal.

[Jeep's blues Playing]

Marsalis: At that time, there
still was this desire to push
the black man down at all costs,

and Duke Ellington--he was a man
with a lot of fire and pride,

and you can believe that
Duke Ellington did not like
what he saw going on.

And even though he wasn't
the type of man who would
come out

with a lot of
verbal pronouncements on it,

in his music,
he makes it very, very clear

that he is very, very proud of
who he is, what he is,

and he feels that his music
and the music of his people

was a tremendous contribution
to the world of music, bar none.

Narrator: An interviewer once
asked Ellington how he felt

about the fact that he
could not stay in many
of the hotels he played.

Ellington deflected
the question.

"I took the energy
it takes to pout," he said,

"and wrote some blues."

[Blue again Playing]

Louis Armstrong:
♪♪ I'm blue again ♪♪

♪♪ blue again... ♪♪

Narrator: By the mid-1930s,
Louis Armstrong,

the man who had first taught
a big band to swing,
was in trouble.

He was out of work, pressed
for cash, and hadn't recorded in
the United States for two years.

Two ex-agents with gangster
connections were suing him--

and one was threatening
bodily harm.

Armstrong needed help.
He hired a new manager.

Joe glaser was
a hard, hot-tempered man,
coarse and controlling,

with his own strong links
to the mob.

The two men never
had a written contract,
but for the next 30 years,

half of everything Armstrong
earned went to glaser.

In return, glaser worked
tirelessly for his star.

He bought out
Armstrong's former agents,
placated his ex-wife,

made sure he played the best
nightclubs and dancehalls,

and got him a lucrative contract
with decca records.

Armstrong was happy
for the help.

He was following
the practical advice

a New Orleans bouncer had given
him years before: In a world run
by white people,

"always have a white man
behind you."

Giddins: Joe glaser was tough,
he was brutal, he used to have
salamis hanging from his office.

The terrible odor.

And if he liked you,
he'd pull down a salami
and give it to you.

And Armstrong's devotion to
glaser, however much glaser
may disturb the rest of us,

his devotion to glaser was real
and it was absolute.

[Shine Playing]

Narrator: Armstrong also
appeared in the movies.

One of his first films
was a short called

a rhapsody in black and blue.

unlike Duke Ellington,
who always appeared on-screen

as he was in life--
suave and sophisticated--

Louis Armstrong,
a dark-skinned black man,

was offered
very different roles.

Giddins: He's dressed in
a leopard skin, he's standing
ankle deep in soap bubbles,

and he's performing in heaven
because somebody
was dreaming this.

So there's all sorts of
minstrel kind of humor
surrounding it.

Armstrong: ♪♪ oh, cherry drop
that mean, 'cause ♪♪

♪♪ my hair is gritty ♪♪

♪♪ just because my teeth
are pearly ♪♪

Giddins: But what are you
actually seeing?

You're seeing a very powerful,
charismatic black man

who is practically
flexing his muscles at you

because they are bared
by the leopard skin,

and singing the tune "Shine",

which itself
is a minstrel number,

in such a way that it becomes--

it loses whatever minstrel
or negative qualities it has.

And playing this unbelievable,
unprecedented, magnificent
virtuoso trumpet.

But the Armstrong effect
was just too complicated
for most people.

They became embarrassed
about it,

and they refused to see
what was clearly on the screen,

which was a brilliant,
brilliant young man

they're trying to imprison
with these stereotypes,

and he's just breaking
the chains right and left.

Narrator: Movies made Armstrong
even more famous

and introduced his music to a
still larger national audience.

Look out, boys,
for Public melody #1. Ha!

[Public melody #1 Playing]

Narrator: But as the swing era
reached its zenith,

most Americans remained unaware

of how central Louis Armstrong
was to the music they loved.

Giddins: When you listen to
Benny Goodman playing those
Fletcher Henderson charts,

and he goes, you know...

♪♪ Bap ba da doo Dee doo be doo
bap be dap ♪♪

You know, if you just make
the voice a little gravelly...

♪♪ Bap ba da doo da doo ♪♪

♪♪ bap ba da doo da doo... ♪♪

Giddins: You can hear Armstrong
in every phrase.

So, look out
for Public melody #1.

the more you listen to
those arrangements, the more
you listen to the soloists,

the more you listen
to everything in jazz,

the more you keep hearing
Louis, Louis, Louis.

I mean, he created
the vocabulary.

And we've never really gotten
so far beyond it

that it doesn't keep cropping up
and that you don't hear
echoes of it.

But in swing, it really is,
the sound that he brought,

that incredible power,
it's orchestrated for
a big band.

It's orchestrated Louis.
That's what the swing era is.

Marsalis: The big band music was
popular because first it comes
out of the soil of the country.

It has the happiness and joy
of the sound of jazz in it.

It was at a certain time in
the country where you have
a certain sophistication

and a belief
in adult sensibility.

You had the flowering
of the American popular songs.

So you had a lot
of popular material
they could sing and play.

You had radio, which was just
really kicking in, which was
projecting the bands.

And you had, also, a fantastic
belief in the country,

like a matinee
in the roseland ballroom
or then the cotton club.

They would hear that
on the radio and think,
"boy, this is some great thing,"

like, you would look
at something that would
say, "made in New York,"

and if you weren't in New York,
you would think, "boy,
New York City."

[Well, git it! Playing]

Radio announcer: A pleasant
and good evening to you,
ladies and gentlemen,

from Manhattan
to the golden gate.

It's another first nighter
on the air for the national
broadcasting company...

Collier: One of
the great thrills was
at the Paramount theater

when you would be a teenager--
12, even as young as 12, 13,
14, 15--

and you'd saved your pennies,
and you were able to go
to the theater

to hear your favorite band,

and you would hear
in the distance

the beginnings of the sound
of the theme of that orchestra,

and you would hear that very
faintly in the background...

[Band playing]

And then the band would
rise up on this rising stage
that they had

and come into sight playing
their classic theme...

And that was--that was chills,
I'm telling you,

that was chills right up
your back and across
the top of your head.

That was something.

Narrator: In the wake
of Benny Goodman's
astonishing success,

the sounds of dozens of
big bands now filled the air

and helped draw millions to
movie theaters and dancehalls.

Some played precious little
jazz, emphasizing pop tunes

and featuring attractive singers
guaranteed to boost
the box office.

But all of them encouraged
Americans to get back on
their feet and dance.

There was Woody Herman's
"band that plays the blues"

and the casa loma orchestra.

Bob Crosby and the bobcats.

Kay kyser and his kollege
of musical knowledge.

There were the all-girl
international sweethearts
of rhythm

and ina ray hutton
and her melodears.

Earl hines had an orchestra,

so did Benny Carter...

And Charlie barnet...

And jimmie lunceford.

Radio announcer: Men, jubilee
is on the air to bring you

riff number one of the battle
of barrel house,

boogie woogie,
and the blues.

For those of you who don't
cotton to a melodic handle,

the treble clef is now being
tintinnabulated by the cat

whose paw is the daddy of
the dicty downbeat,

jimmie lunceford.

[Playing Nagasaki]

♪♪ boy ♪♪

♪♪ ginger and dynamite ♪♪

♪♪ back in Nagasaki where
the fellas chew tobaccky ♪♪

♪♪ and the women
wicky-wacky-woo! ♪♪

♪♪ the way they entertain ♪♪

♪♪ and the women
wicky-wacky-woo! ♪♪

Narrator: Jimmie lunceford
once said that

"a band that looks good,
goes in for better showmanship,

"and seems to be
enjoying its work,

will always be sure of
a return visit."

Lunceford's orchestra
would demonstrate that
night after night.

He had fine soloists,

but it was the band's
astonishing ensemble precision

that brought the dancers
out onto the floor

wherever it played.

Giddins: Jimmie lunceford
had the greatest show band
that ever was.

The guys in that band
were beautiful.

They had the best-tailored
uniforms in the business,

and they all looked great.

And they had all kinds
of hand things, and they
had novelty vocals.

They had routines where
they would throw

the trumpets up in the air
and catch them simultaneously.

Man: Very few people are talking
about jimmie lunceford.

Jimmie had a great respect
for what he was doing,

and he infused his men
with that respect.

And he had a lot of
prima Donnas in that band,

but once they were
in that band,

they submerged
their personalities

into the overall ensemble.

And it was a tremendous band.

It was always at its peak.

[Getting sentimental
Over you Playing]

Woman: Mmm...What music,
let's dance.

Man: No, let's listen,
it's Tommy dorsey.

Announcer: And here's that
sentimental gentleman himself,

Tommy dorsey!

[Applause]

[Playing Song of India]

narrator: Though
he was billed as

"the sentimental gentleman
of swing,"

there was nothing sentimental
about Tommy dorsey.

He was combative
and tight-fisted,

a hard-drinking taskmaster
who created his own band

mostly because he could
no longer bear to play

alongside his brother, Jimmy.

But his band was hugely popular
and through its ranks moved

such stars as bunny berigan,
Dave tough, buddy rich,

and a skinny singer from
hoboken, New Jersey,

named frank Sinatra.

Shaw: Dorsey, he was
a superb musician,

he was a great trombone player.

Tommy made the trombone
into a singing instrument.

He was the first guy who took it
from a "blatting" instrument,

you know... ♪♪ ta da ta da
da dah da da da da dah ♪♪

And he made it into
a song instrument.

He played melodies on it.

His breath control was superb.

He was a hell of a player.
He had a hell of a band.

Very, very,
very underestimated.

Giddins: He really, I think,
more than anybody else,

was able to create an orchestra
that had two souls.

It could be a very good
jazz orchestra

and a very good pop orchestra.

It could be a sweet band
playing very sentimental tunes,

but it could also be
a very vigorous jazz band.

And he always kept
very good soloists in the band.

[Playing Gal from kalamazoo]

narrator: One of the most
popular swing bands of
all time was led by

another trombonist,
Glenn Miller,

who favored tightly
controlled arrangements--

and plenty of vocals
and showmanship.

♪♪ Hi there, Tex,
how's your new romance ♪♪

♪♪ the one you met at
the campus dance? ♪♪

♪♪ wait until
you see her ♪♪

♪♪ you'll agree ♪♪

♪♪ my hometown gal's
the only one for me ♪♪

♪♪ a-b-c-d-e-f-g-h-
I got a gal ♪♪

♪♪ in kalamazoo ♪♪

Giddins: I think the importance
of Glenn Miller

was that he popularized
swing music for a lot of people

who couldn't even get with,
you know, Goodman and Ellington.

He made it very romantic.

He created the sound of
that era that--that--

that a lot of people
will always associate--

people who were alive then--
with that period.

And it's not
a negligible contribution.

Certainly, it's not creative
in a traditional jazz sense,

but it's a--it's a potent brew.

♪♪ ...today ♪♪

♪♪ am I dreamin'? ♪♪

♪♪ I can hear
her screamin' ♪♪

Shaw: He had what you'd call
a republican band--

very straight-laced,
middle of the road.

And Miller was that kind of guy,
he was a businessman.

And he was sort of
the Lawrence Welk of jazz.

And that's one of the reasons
he was so big,

people could identify
with what he did.

They perceived what
he was doing.

But the biggest problem,
his band never made a mistake.

And it's one of
the things wrong,

because if you don't ever
make a mistake,

you're not playing at
the edge of your ability.

You're playing safely,
within limits,

and you know what you can do,

and it sounds, after a while,
extremely boring.

♪♪ ...in kalamazoo ♪♪

♪♪ zoo zoo zoo zoo
zoo zoo zoo zoo zoo zoo ♪♪

♪♪ zoo... ♪♪

♪♪ kalamazoo ♪♪

Narrator: In the years to come,
Glenn Miller and his orchestra

would turn out hit after hit,

including String of pearls,

little brown jug,
And In the mood

that would be among swing's
most familiar anthems.

[Applause]

[Stompin' at the savoy
Playing]

Man: I thought that
the happiest I could be

would be
in a jazz club, playing.

Then my dad said, "you're going
to be a cattleman."

When we'd drive the cattle,

my dream was that
the Benny Goodman band bus

would want to get
through the cattle

and I wouldn't let 'em through

unless they let me get
on the bus and play with them.

But in my mind that's
what I was--

someday I'd be heard

with some band
going through here.

Ha ha!

[Summertime Playing]

Giddins: Artie Shaw is probably
the finest clarinet player

that jazz has ever
produced technically.

A true virtuoso.

When you compare Artie
and Benny, what people
usually say is that

Benny swung more, he had
more of a blues quality,

but that Artie had
a prettier tone,

he was a more intellectual
player, a more lyrical player,

had a better technique.

Narrator: Artie Shaw was
Benny Goodman's greatest rival.

Gifted, erudite, articulate,
and opinionated,

Shaw successfully combined
chamber music with jazz

and won an enormous following.

But he was cursed, he said,
with serious-mindedness.

He disliked autograph-seekers,
disdained jitterbugging,

and was made profoundly uneasy
by his own success.

And now, ladies and gentlemen,

our own version of Cole Porter's
Begin the beguine.

Shaw: Well, the minute
you became a big, big smash hit,

it became very confusing.

Nothing in life
can prepare you for stardom.

Success is a very big problem,
bigger than failure.

You can deal with failure.

It's tough, it's hard, you fight
like hell to get--get it going.

But success is an opiate,
and you get very confused.

Things happen that
you have no preparation for.

And money comes in
and popularity

and people
throw themselves at you.

And you don't know
what you're into.

I couldn't handle it,

I didn't know what
to do with it.

Narrator: The basic truth,
Artie Shaw concluded,

is that popular music has
little or nothing to do with

musical values at all.

Shaw: I still wanted
to play music,

and the audience was saying,
"play what you're playing,

play the same thing over
and over, we like that."

And they never could get it
through their heads that

what they liked was something
I was doing on my way

to getting better.

That record that they liked,
Begin the beguine--

which became a millstone,

it became an albatross
around my neck.

Narrator: The overwhelming
success of Begin the beguine

would eventually propel
Artie Shaw past Benny Goodman

in popularity.

But in 1939, Shaw disbanded
his orchestra in frustration.

"I'm unhappy in
the music business," he said.

"I like the music--
love and live it, in fact--

but for me the business part
plain stinks."

[Truckin' Playing]

Man: August 27,
the Duke Ellington orchestra

will appear for one night only

at the turnpike casino,
Lincoln, Nebraska.

August 28,
Waterloo, Iowa;

August 29 and 30,

coronado theater,
rockford, Illinois;

August 31, orpheum theater,
Madison, Wisconsin.

September 2 and 3,

the Duke Ellington orchestra
will be appearing in Milwaukee.

Narrator: Despite the depression
and in part because of it,

swing music had become

a hundred-million-dollar
industry.

30,000 to 40,000 musicians were
employed to play dance music
across the country.

And another 8,000 men and women
were needed just to manage,

book, and promote
their appearances.

Even for the best-paid bands,

like Benny Goodman's
and Artie Shaw's,

the road was hectic
and exhausting.

Shaw: The problem was
to meet a payroll.

You have 14 to 20
or at times 40 men,

and you got to pay them
every week.

In my day, the men were
part of an organization.

We traveled together,
we lived together,

and I'm talking about times
when hotels were $3.00 a night.

Narrator: Some bookers insisted
bands cover 500 miles
between dates

and work
7 nights a week--

until the union finally
managed to get it decreased to

6 nights and 400 miles.

Andy kirk and his clouds of joy
averaged more than 50,000 miles

a year on rough roads.

"When I left Duke,"

one long-time Ellington
trumpet-player remembered,

"I slept almost a whole year."

[Living in a great big way
Playing]

Man: We did 300 one-nighters
and never even felt it.

After 300 or 400 miles
a day at a bus,

we couldn't wait to
get on the bandstand,

we had that vitality.

We wanted to play, you know,

even if we hadn't eaten all day.

'Course when I first
joined the band,

we were making about
$8.00 a night.

So we didn't play
for the money.

We played for ourselves.
We just loved to play.

Woman: Traveling could be
really kind of rough

because we'd travel for hours,

and then we'd have to
get out of the bus,

get on the stage,
and do a great show.

And somehow, it's so funny,

that the more difficult
the traveling was

or the more tired everyone was,
the greater the music.

The guys would come off
of a long, long ride

and sit on that bandstand
and blow us away.

It was unbelievable.

Woman: ♪♪ I don't want you ♪

♪♪ but hate to lose you ♪♪

♪♪ you got me in between ♪♪

♪♪ the devil
and the deep blue sea ♪♪

Narrator: The men drank hard,
gambled hard, played hard.

Woman:
♪♪ ...You've got me in between ♪

♪♪ the devil
and the deep blue sea ♪♪

♪♪ I ought to cross you
off my list ♪♪

♪♪ but when you come
a-knockin' at my door ♪♪

♪♪ fate seems to give
my heart a twist ♪♪

♪♪ and I come
running back for more ♪♪

♪♪ I should hate you ♪♪

♪♪ but I guess I love you ♪♪

♪♪ you've got me in between ♪♪

♪♪ the devil
and the deep blue sea ♪♪

Man on P.A.: Bus 112
for Newark, New Jersey--

narrator: "All you need
to survive on the road,"

Benny Goodman's
great trumpet player

bunny berrigan once said,

"was a toothbrush and a photo
of Louis Armstrong."

[Tough truckin' Playing]

Man: "November 1--
having bus trouble.

"Stay on road all night.

"Weather cold.

"Orchestra makes bonfire
with bus tire.

"Get help next morning.

"November 7--bus seized by
clothing store,

"finally redeemed...

"Too late for orchestra to make
date in cumberland, Kentucky.

"Woman proprietor of
southern hotel holds

king Oliver's trumpet
for rent."

Paul Barnes.

Narrator: On the road,
band leaders rarely paid
for food or lodging,

so many musicians spent every
other night sleeping on the bus

to save a little money.

Some bands were too poor
to afford a bus at all.

As many as 10 musicians packed
into a single touring car

and hauled their instruments
in a trailer.

Sometimes, stranded
between engagements,

they would simply pull
into a roadhouse, begin to play,

and hope passing the hat would
raise enough cash to buy dinner.

Traveling in
segregated america,

the musicians who had been
the first to play swing

had to overcome obstacles
unknown to whites.

Black musicians were
generally paid far less,

barred from cafes and restrooms
along the road,

were rarely permitted to eat
or sleep at the hotels

where they performed,

but they found a ready welcome
in black neighborhoods.

There were black-owned
and operated hotels

and rooming-houses
in every big town.

And there was a network of
celebrated cooks

eager to cater to
black musicians.

"They cooked for you like
they cooked for their family,"

one band-member remembered.

"And they didn't mind filling
your plate up."

Man: And we'd get in town
from the bus

just in time to get
the instruments out

and set up the bandstand
and go to play.

Hadn't had anything to eat.

I had no place to stay,
or anything.

We up there playing,
and the people crammed in there,

and my wife Mona
would be the only girl
traveling with the band,

she would go around to
the black neighborhoods
and talk to the ladies.

She says, "we haven't had
anything to eat.

We haven't had
any place to stay."

And these ladies were
awful nice.

They would get together
and call one another, say,

"well, Mrs. Jones will take two
over at her husband's house,

and Mrs. Smith say,
she'll take two."

By intermission time, Mona would
come down to that bandstand

with a great big basket of
chicken and potato salad

and a list of names:

"'Dizzy, you
and chu Berry are staying
over at Mrs. Jones house;

Charlie, you and so-and-so
over at Mrs. Smith's house."

And this is the way
we survived...

[Queen isabella Playing]

Man: Variety. June, 1937.

"Attendance records
are being broken

"practically every night
of the week.

"Claim is that many of
the smaller spots,

"including those far off
the beaten path,

"turn in better grosses
than recognized city palaces.

"Reason is that even
the bare-footed population

recognize band names
when they hear 'em."

[Smiles Playing]

♪♪ There are smiles ♪♪

♪♪ silly ol' smiles ♪♪

♪♪ that make us happy ♪♪

♪♪ happy all day ♪♪

Collier: When we talk
about swing,

the swing bands,
it's a little dicey

as to whether we're going to
call this jazz or not.

♪♪ There are smiles ♪♪

♪♪ that steal away
the teardrops ♪♪

Because a great deal of
that music really was

pretty commercial stuff.

The kids out there,
most of them, like any kids,

were interested in popular music
because that was the hip thing,

you had to know
the names of the bands.

♪♪ But the smiles ♪♪

♪♪ that filled my life
with sunshine ♪♪

♪♪ yes, yes ♪♪

♪♪ are the smiles ♪♪

♪♪ that you give to me ♪♪

That's swing music
if I ever heard it.

[Cherokee Playing]

Narrator:
Adults loved swing music,

but it was teenagers who made it
a national craze.

Trumpet sales doubled,

and sales of clarinets,

Artie Shaw's and Benny Goodman's
instrument, tripled.

There was an unofficial swing
"uniform."

Boys dressed in sport jackets
and slacks,

like the ones their heroes wore
on the bandstand.

Girls favored Bobby socks
and saddle shoes,

and pleated skirts that
flared when they got
onto the dance floor.

Narrator: Every important
bandleader had a fan club.

Young women showered
the best-looking players
with letters...

And telephone numbers.

Artie Shaw once dismissed
jitterbugs and ickies alike
as "morons."

Whose appearance at
the Paramount had pulled
them out of their seats,

confessed he was sometimes
frightened by their enthusiasm.

Giddins: To be a band leader
at that time was to be,
I suppose you could say,

like a rock musician
more recently.

They were courted by
the whole culture.

These were the new celebrities.

And it was something new
in the music.

It was something new
in American popular culture,

and it lasted
for almost 10 years.

[Grand terrace shuffle Playing]

Narrator:
But swing had its critics.

The sweet bandleader blue barron
denounced it as "nothing
but orchestrated sex....

A phallic symbol
set to sound..."

And Dr. A.A. Brill,
a noted psychiatrist,
was even more concerned.

Swing music represents our
regression to the primitive
Tom-Tom-Tom,

a rhythmic sound that pleases
savages and children alike.

It acts as a narcotic
and makes them forget reality.

They forget the depression,
the loss of their jobs.

It is like taking a drug.

Gordon: My parents, anyway,
didn't really understand
anything about music.

Why am I listening
to Duke Ellington?

Why am I listening
to Louis Armstrong?

And they're out of it
completely.

They don't even why I'm into it.

I loved it, that's all I know
and that's all I cared about.

There was that sense
that we were rebels.

We were doing something that
our grown-ups didn't know about

and probably didn't like
very well.

And the jitterbugging,
of course, is very much
a part of it,

that, that dancing,
because it was strenuous,

and the girls were out there
with their little short skirts
and their Bobby socks.

As they twirled around,
those skirts would rise up
a little bit like that.

Nothing like what we have today,
mind you.

[Body and soul Playing]

Man: I'm at my freshman year,
gonzaga university.

I'm in the gymnasium one day.

And I'm sitting at the piano.

And I'm playing.

And this guy comes in
and listened...

With his arm on the top
of the piano.

And he's listening to me,
and he's looking at me,
and he's kinda grinning.

So I finally stopped and I said,
"well, how do you like it?"

Or something like that.

And he said, "I like your touch,
you got a nice touch.

"But you're not playing
the right style.

You're not playing the right way
to play."

He takes me downstairs,
and he sets me down
in this room,

and he puts this Teddy Wilson on
record on with Benny Goodman.

And I had never heard this kind
of music before in my life.

Never heard any jazz.

I hadn't even heard
Louis Armstrong.

I hadn't heard anything.

Just American album
of familiar music.

And all of a sudden
I'm listening to this guy
play the piano.

I say, "holy mackerel,

wait a minute, wait a minute,
who is that?"

He said,
"that's Teddy Wilson.

And that's the way you should
play the piano, ace."

Narrator: One of Benny Goodman's
best-loved records

had been Body and soul,

played by a trio he used only
at recording dates.

The whole country
had heard the record,

but it had never occurred
to Goodman to bring
the trio on stage

because the piano player,
Teddy Wilson,

was a black man.

Wilson was the reserved,
urbane son of a librarian

and a professor of English
at tuskegee institute.

[Who Playing]

His light touch and seemingly
effortless technique

perfectly matched
Goodman's own playing.

[I've got a heart full of music
Playing]

Giddins: There was
never a piano player
like Teddy Wilson.

I think one of the things
that distinguishes him

from all the piano players
who precede him--

waller, Duke Ellington--

is they had
a very percussive tack.

Teddy Wilson had
a light, lyrical tack.

It's an exquisite sound.

He makes every key sound like
a chime or a bell.

And he's very fast.

And you realize that no one
has ever made the piano
sound quite like that.

After two measures you know
it can't be anybody else
but Teddy Wilson.

[Time on my hands Playing]

Narrator: Goodman had
first played with Wilson
at a jam session in 1934.

"Teddy and I began to play,"
he remembered,

"as though we were thinking
with the same brain."

Within weeks, Goodman had
brought his drummer, gene krupa,
and Wilson into the studio

to record together.

But when a concert was scheduled
in Chicago

and the promoter, Helen oakley,
suggested Wilson be included
on the program,

Goodman was reluctant.

Helen oakley dance: I said,
"let me bring Teddy in.

That'll be
a tremendous attraction."

Benny said,
"I'm not such a fool.

"I'm making a hit here,

"and i'm--this is gonna
be my career.

"I don't want
to wreck everything

"to present a black talent
in the middle of everything.

And so I don't like the idea."

Collier: This was
the depression, mind you,

and the last thing he wanted
to do was to jeopardize this

and throw it all out the window

by taking what seemed to
everybody to be a great chance.

Narrator: Helen oakley, who knew
how profoundly Goodman had been
influenced by black musicians,

and who was eager to show
that integration would work
on the bandstand,

finally convinced him
to take the chance with Wilson.

By that time, black and white
musicians were fraternizing
and had been for a long time.

They'd go into
midnight jam sessions together

and sit until 2:00, 3:00
in the morning

but what Goodman did,

he put Teddy Wilson in show biz.

[Sweet leilani Playing]

Narrator: Goodman never forgot
the trio's first appearance
in public.

"The three of us worked together
as if we had been born to play
this way," he said.

"The Goodman thing was as solid
as a family," Wilson said later.

"We were all there,
just like brothers."

Benny Goodman now saw no reason
why mere custom and prejudice

should keep him
from improving his band by
enlisting more great musicians

just because they were black.

In a rundown bar
in Los Angeles,

he heard Lionel Hampton,

a master of a new instrument,
the vibraphone.

Goodman hired him on the spot

and transformed the trio
into a quartet.

[I've got a heart full of music
Playing]

Man: They play every night,

and they make music
you would not believe.

Not a false note,

one finishing his solo
and dropping into
background support,

then the other,

all adding inspiration

until they get going
too strong to quit.

This is really composition
on the spot,

and it is a collective thing,

the most beautiful example
of men working together

to be seen in public today.

Otis Ferguson, The new republic.

narrator:
Despite the quartet's success,

few other white bandleaders
would dare follow Goodman's
lead.

The music may have been
color-blind,

but the country wasn't.

Lionel Hampton: We had a place
where we were sitting

and where the musicians
could stop and have a drink.

And a guy came over to Benny
and say,

"well, Benny, what you doing
with those niggers in the band?"

And Benny say,
"if you say that again to me,

I'll take the clarinet and bust
you across the head with it."

[On the alamo Playing]

Marsalis: Well,
jazz definitely is about
the possibilities of our--

inherent in our system,

because when a band plays,
they're dealing with
a negotiation.

The thing about jazz
is it's a healing,

but not by running.

It's the type of healing
of the engagement.

It's like, well,

uh, we have a--
we have a problem.

But we're going to heal it
with some soul.

But in order for us to heal it,
we have to deal with it.

And we can't run from it.

And the more we run from it,
the more we run into it.

Narrator: In 1935,

Duke Ellington asked a mostly
unknown 19-year-old singer

to appear in a short film
called "symphony in black."

♪♪ Saddest tale on land or sea ♪

♪♪ was when my man walked out
on me ♪♪

Narrator:
Her name was Billie Holiday

and she had already been living
the kind of hard life

she portrayed in the film.

♪♪ My man's gone,
I feels alone ♪♪

♪♪ I've got those
lost my man blues ♪♪

♪♪ he didn't treat me fair ♪♪

♪♪ it's more than I can bear ♪♪

♪♪ I've got those
lost my man blues ♪♪

♪♪ I've got those lost my man ♪♪

♪♪ can't get him back again
blues ♪♪

Narrator: She had been born
eleanora fagan in 1915

and was brought up in Baltimore.

Her parents never married,

and she yearned
all of her childhood

for her mostly absent father,

Clarence holiday,

a guitarist who once played
with Fletcher Henderson.

Her father's flashy example
helped lure her into
the music business,

but his hustling ways
were mirrored in many
of the predatory men

to whom she would be attracted
all her life.

She was molested and abused
as a child,

and by the age of 12,

she was working as a prostitute
in a waterfront whorehouse.

She earned extra money

singing along with the victrola
in the parlor--

the music of Louis Armstrong
and bessie Smith.

[Sobbin' hearted blues Playing]

At 13, she was in New York,

singing for tips
at rent parties

and small Harlem clubs,

singing for fun at jam sessions,

and eventually renaming herself
Billie Holiday,

after her absent father.

One evening in 1933,

she was singing in a club
called monette's

when the jazz critic
and promoter John Hammond
happened to drop by.

He was dazzled by
the way she looked...

And by the way she sang.

[A fine romance Playing]

♪♪ A fine romance ♪♪

♪♪ with no kisses ♪♪

♪♪ a fine romance ♪♪

♪♪ my friend, this is ♪♪

Narrator: Although she had
a tiny vocal range--

just over an octave--

holiday was able to make
each song her own,

in part by singing
just behind the beat.

She phrased the melodies
in the manner of jazz
instrumentalists...

And considered herself
a musician

before she was a singer.

♪♪ I might as well play bridge
with my old maid aunt ♪♪

♪♪ I haven't got a chance ♪♪

♪♪ this is a fine romance ♪♪

Narrator:
Hammond eventually arranged for
a series of recording sessions

led by Teddy Wilson.

Benny Goodman sometimes
sat in, too.

♪♪ A fine romance ♪♪

♪♪ my good fellow ♪♪

♪♪ you take romance ♪♪

♪♪ I'll take jell-o ♪♪

♪♪ you're calmer than... ♪♪

Woman: Billie had
that strange scratch.

She had that astonishing timing
ahead of notes, behind notes.

When you listen to
the early records,

the blues feeling,
which always suggests
a certain melancholy,

let's say, you know, it suggests
that life is going to play some,
some hard trick along the way,

it is perfectly balanced
by this kind of insouciance.

She's terribly witty.

Listen to her sing
A fine romance

she's practically ebullient when
she sounds in those early things
like a horn,

she's having the time
of her life.

♪♪ I've never mussed the crease
in your blue serge pants ♪♪

♪♪ I never get no chance ♪♪

♪♪ this is a fine romance ♪♪

Narrator: Holiday was
fiercely independent.

A woman who had known her
since childhood said,

"she was just don't care-ish."

[Pennies from heaven Playing]

Billie Holiday would remain
don't care-ish all her life,

cursing, drinking, brawling,

pursuing partners of both sexes,

leading a life
so close to the edge

that it was a wonder
to her friends that
she managed to survive.

But out of all of it,
she made unforgettable art

and would eventually
become the most important
female vocalist

in the history of jazz.

♪♪ Oh, every time it rains,
it rains pennies from heaven ♪♪

Marsalis: When you hear
Billie Holiday sing,

you hear the spirit
of bessie Smith

and Louis Armstrong

together in a person.

So you have that fire
of the blues shouter,

you have the intelligent choice
of notes like a great jazz
musician, like Louis Armstrong.

Holiday:
♪♪ be sure that your umbrella ♪♪

♪♪ is upside down ♪♪

Marsalis: But you have a--
with her,

a very profound sensitivity
to the human condition.

She tells you something about
the pain of the blues,

of life...

But inside of that pain
is a toughness,

and that's what
you're attracted to.

♪♪ There'll be
pennies from heaven ♪♪

♪♪ for you and me ♪♪

[Stompin' at the savoy Playing]

Man: Do you remember
what it was like?

Maybe you do.

Maybe you were there.

Maybe you were there in New York

2/3 of the way
through the 1930s

when there were
so many great bands playing.

You could go to
the Manhattan room of
the hotel Pennsylvania,

where Benny Goodman was playing
with his great band,

complete with gene krupa.

Maybe you'd rather go to
some other hotel room,

like the palm room
of the commodore

for red norvo
and Mildred Bailey
and their soft, subtle swing,

or to the grill room of
the Lexington for Bob Crosby
and his dixieland Bob cats.

And then
there were the ballrooms:

The roseland with Woody Herman

and the savoy with chick webb.

George t. Simon, Metronome.

narrator: The savoy ballroom, at
140th street and lenox Avenue,

was still Harlem's hottest spot.

And chick webb,

who had been one of the first
bandleaders to play swing,

was still in charge.

Giddins: Chick webb is a--
a phenomenon.

There's never been
anyone like him,
never will be again.

He was a hunchback dwarf,

suffered from
a spinal disfigurement
from his childhood.

An absolutely brilliant drummer.

[Harlem congo Playing]

Here's this little guy sitting
behind a full-size drum set

and yet they had to nail it down
to the stage

because the force
of his foot pedal

would have kicked the bass drum
right off.

[Drum solo]

Man: Chick webb was
my first hero that I ever saw.

And I walked in,
my old man took me there--

I was...Must have been
12 years old, to the theater--

and I'm looking for
a real, like a drummer

and all I see is
a gigantic bass drum

with a head sticking
over the top of it

and these two--
two arms flailing around,

playing the greatest stuff
I ever heard in my life.

[Drum solo]

Narrator: On may 11, 1937,

Benny Goodman ventured uptown
to challenge webb

in what was billed as
the "music battle
of the century."

"Fellas, this is my hour,"
webb told his men,

"anybody misses notes--
don't come back to work!"

4,000 fans jammed
into the ballroom,

and mounted policemen
and firemen had to be called

to control
the crowd of 5,000 more

who couldn't get in
and refused to go home.

Among those who did get in

were Norma Miller
and Frankie Manning,

professional Lindy hoppers now,

who had been taking on
all comers in dance contests
around the world.

They had come home to the savoy

to see their hero face
his most celebrated challenger.

[Don't be that way Playing]

The night that Benny Goodman
came to play against
chick webb...

Woman: 1938.

This was
an electrical night,

this was, I mean,
with the, the air

of being around
the savoy ballroom.

Here's Benny Goodman,
the king of swing,
and here's--

chick webb,
the king of swing.

The king of swing.

You know, as far
as we are concerned,

there's chick webb
going up against
Benny Goodman.

[Don't be that way Playing,
Benny Goodman]

Manning: You know,
Goodman was a giant

because they called him
"the king of swing"
at that time.

And any band
that played swing,

we would buy
their records.

So we we knew--
we knew about
Benny Goodman.

A lot of people
may not realize

that a lot of
the arrangements
that Benny Goodman had,

chick webb had
the same arrangements.

[Don't be that way Playing,
chick webb]

Manning: And when
they get on a bandstand,

now this is when you
can know which band
is the best,

by listening to them
play the same
arrangement.

[Don't be that way Playing,
chick webb]

Manning: To me,

chick webb outswung
Benny Goodman
that night.

Miller: I say
the same thing, yeah.

That was my feeling.

I'm not saying this
because--

not being prejudiced.

Yeah, because
it's chick webb

or because
I'm being prejudiced.

But to me, I feel that
chick webb outswung
Benny Goodman

that night, you know,

because I saw guys on
Benny Goodman's band--
bandstand

when chick webb
was playing...

I seen guys on there,
they'd stand up there
and say...

They just
shook their heads.

Narrator:
The Goodman band was routed.

Gene krupa bowed down in tribute
to the man who had beaten him:

Chick webb, he said,
had "cut me to ribbons."

"Nobody," one of webb's men
remembered,

"could have taken it away
from chick that night."

[These foolish things remind me
Of you Playing]

Narrator: Despite its
overwhelming popularity,

swing music had not captured
the heart of every musician--

or every jazz fan.

Some found big bands too stiff,
too regimented.

John Hammond, who had helped
build the Benny Goodman band,

now charged that swing
had become too commercial,

that it stifled freedom
and self-expression,

took jazz in
the wrong direction.

Giddins: There was
a pressure on even the best
of the jazz band leaders.

Not all of them fell
to that pressure,

but Benny Goodman on
a typical recording session

would make two great
jazz instrumentals

and then two pop vocals
at the same session.

So there was always this--
this pressure to be commercial,

to reach the popular audience,

to break the Glen Miller
barrier, as it were.

Man:
♪♪ drifting through the sky ♪♪

♪♪ while I wonder why my love ♪♪

♪♪ ever said good-bye ♪♪

Narrator:
One snowy night in 1936,

John Hammond grew tired of
listening to Benny Goodman
perform his familiar hits

at the congress hotel
in Chicago.

Hammond went outside,

got into his car,
and turned on the radio,

hoping to hear something new,
something different,

something less predictable.

He came across
an experimental station

broadcasting live
from Kansas City.

Hammond:
It was 1:00 in the morning.

The nightly broadcast
by the count basie band

from the Reno club
was just beginning.

[Jumpin' at the woodside
Playing]

Hammond:
I couldn't believe my ears.

Narrator: John Hammond
now had a new mission:

To bring count basie
and the sound of Kansas City

to the rest of the country.