Saturday, February 8, 2014

When she was Bebop “Bobbie” Carroll

By David "Chet" Williamson Sneade

In his monumental memoir, Notes from a Battered Grand: Fifty Years of Music, from Honky-tonk to High Society, Worcester-born author Don Asher dedicates all of chapter one to his first encounter with the legendary local pianist, Jaki Byard. In chapter two he turns his attention to yet another great home-grown talent, Barbara Carroll.

Here’s his riff: “My days at Martha Cantor’s North Main Street studio were numbered. I didn’t tell her I was simultaneously studying elsewhere. But she had detected something coarse and alien infiltrating the texture of my playing, and she was puzzled. ‘Your legato lines are losing definition and clarity, Donald, and I can’t seem to put my finger on the difficulty.’


Concurrently Barbara Carroll (nee Coppersmith) was getting herself seduced, drawn down the same sordid, enchanting alleys. She had made her pilgrimage to Dominic’s Café, which was becoming a Mecca for southern New England piano players. (Hearing Jackie [sic, Jaki Byard] in that environment was like encountering Horowitz on a drink-stained spinet in a back-road motel cocktail lounge.)

Jaki Byard
I would see her near the front of the line at the Plymouth Theater on Sunday afternoons and in the tiny cubicles at Carl Seder’s Music Mart listening to King Cole and Teddy Wilson records, head bent, eyes closed. Then suddenly she had deserted Martha Cantor and was playing three and four nights a week in the eastside Worcester dives and turnpike roadhouses strung halfway to Boston like dingy boxcars on a coal-littered siding.

Within a few weeks I followed suit, divulging to Martha the Dominic’s-Byard-Saxtrum connection. She was devastated. Two of her prize pupils jumping ship in the space of a month to vanish, perhaps forever, beneath the waves of vulgarity. She phoned my mother to express her dismay, sorrow, and sympathy, and my distraught tearful mom all but said Kaddish over my watery grave.”

Carroll was born in Worcester. The date was January 25, 1925. These days she lives in Manhattan where she has resided since leaving New England more than 50 years ago.



Carroll grew up at 41 June Street where she began playing the piano at age five. She is the youngest of three daughters. Her parents were David and Lilian (Levine) Coppersmith. By the way, a cousin is bassist Mike Palter, who is one half of the duo with his wife pianist/singer Lynn Jackson.








My two older sisters had been given piano lessons and violin lessons and all kinds of music lessons. Nothing happened,” Carroll recalls. They were not interested and they didn’t practice. So, my parents were rather unhappy, disenchanted with the whole idea of music lessons.

Young Barbara Coppersmith at the piano

I came along and I really wanted to play, but at that time things were tough, money was tight and I was really discouraged to take lessons. I persisted. I really showed them that I was serious. So, they started getting me piano lessons. I was about eight years old when I began studying classical piano.”

As Asher mentioned, Carroll studied with Martha Cantor, who was long considered to be the foremost classical piano teacher of the area. She was the sister of theatrical impresario, Arthur Cantor. Yes, Martha Cantor was one of my teachers,” Carroll says. “I think I went to her home. I studied with her for a while. Then I studied in Boston with private teachers. Then I went to the New England Conservatory of Music.”

In a radio interview with Terri Gross on “Fresh Air,” heard on NPR, Carroll talked about technique. “As far as formal training in playing the piano,” she said, “I certainly think it is helpful in giving you the technical ability to play the piano and play whatever you want. If you have the technique you can go ahead and play whatever comes to mind.”

Commerce High School

Carroll also told Gross that she used to play things that she heard on the radio and “try to compose little things. I was very interested in playing.” Of those she heard on the radio, Carroll singles out Art Tatum, Teddy Wilson and Nat Cole -- “all the people who became my idols. That’s when I became very interested in jazz. I don’t recall seeing any of them in Worcester at the time. I was very young. I was mostly listening to the records. That’s all it was, except classical music, which is what I was studying. I didn’t study jazz. Jaki Byard was around and wonderful.”

While still a teenager Carroll began working around town. “We had a little group in high school,” she says. “We used to play Bar Mitzvahs, weddings and things like that. It was usually three or four pieces... clarinet, drums – not the greatest instrumental assortment, but we worked with what we had. We played some jazz. It was all head arrangements. You couldn't classify it as arrangements. It was just getting together and playing tunes.”

In an interview with Marian McPartland during her spotlight on “Piano Jazz,” Carroll talked about her transformation from classical to jazz, saying, “It wasn’t anything that I sat down and formulated and analyzed. It was something that I innately knew I wanted to do. There was never any question in my mind. Because I was young and innocent, I suppose, and very naive, it never occurred to me that it might be very difficult for me to do these things. Number one, because it was difficult to play jazz anyway. It wasn’t a stable kind of living. Secondly, because I was a female. That was relatively unheard of in those days.”



After graduating from high school Carroll moved to Boston to attend the New England Conservatory of Music, earning tuition money gigging around town. “There was a man named Sam Sax who was giving a course in jazz,” she says. “I took that for a little while. 

My stay at the conservatory was rather brief because I wanted to go to New York. I went to school for awhile and began playing in various clubs around Boston, at the Mayfair and the Latin Quarter. In those days they had a house band and what they called a relief band, which was a rumba band. And lucky me,” she says sarcastically. “I played with the rumba band. I learned a lot of rumbas that way.”













Carroll says she worked with band-leader Ruby Newman, who was instrumental in her making connections in Boston. “He was a society band leader, who got me my union card, which was very nice. It allowed me to work.”


In a great piece by Sue Terry in the New York's musicians local 802 newsletter, Terry notes that Carroll eventually left school to pursue music full time. "In those days you worked real late, 'til 2 or 3 in the morning,” the pianist said. “It was hard to get up and go to school every day.”

Terry reports: “She was accepted into the Boston AFM chapter in 1944, a necessity in order to work in area clubs. Her talents as a pianist on the Boston scene, which also included a stint with a four-piece rumba band brought her to the attention of United States military personnel. They enlisted her to do a USO tour with an all-woman trio, Elinor Sherry and the Swinghearts.”



Carroll recalls, "The guitarist was a wonderful musician named Marion Gange, who had been with the Ina Ray Hutton band. So we had this little trio and we went to play the hospitals, playing for the boys who had been injured, who were blind, or amputees. There was a whole troupe - a juggler, musicians, singers, about 15 people - who would go right into the hospital wards and play. We would start in New York and go all the way down south and out west to the coast of California and back. We played Army, Navy and Marine bases."

After the war, Carroll found herself in Philadelphia. In 1946, she spent a year and a half playing solo piano in a cocktail lounge. In 1947, Carroll finally worked up the courage to move to New York. “The big city beckoned me,” she told NPR’s Terri Gross. “I got to New York City as quickly as I could.”

In an interview with Downbeat, Carroll talks about those early days of freelancing in New York and dealing with sexism. In his book, A Biographical Guide to the Great Jazz and Pop Singers, Wil Friedwald quoted Carroll: “When I first came to New York, I couldn’t get any work using my real name, so I had friends who would send me to jobs. But they would tell the contractor to look for a ‘Bobby’ Carroll. By the time they realized that ‘Bobby’ was ‘Bobbie,” who was actually Barbara, it was too late.”

Carroll told Downbeat that she would “arrive at the location, go up to the bandstand, the leader would look at me, say, ‘Who are you?’ and I’d say, ‘I’m the pianist for the evening.’ Everybody thought if you were a girl, you couldn’t play, you know.”

But, as Friedwald pointed out, “After they heard her play, Carroll was never fired, and eventually, acquired a reputation under her real name and gender identity.”

Forming her first trio, Carroll made her debut at the Club Downbeat at 66 West 52nd Street – then known as “Swing Street.” “I was lucky,” she said. “I played opposite Dizzy Gillespie’s big band. I had a marvelous trio, Chuck Wayne playing the guitar and Clyde Lombardi on bass. At that time, Dizzy had John Lewis playing piano, Ray Brown playing bass and James Moody on saxophone. There were two acts, Dizzy and then my trio. We were there for four weeks and it was heaven.”

Carroll, Lombardi, and Wayne
The Trio going over the music
In his book New York Nights: Performing, Producing and Writing in Gotham, author Nick Catalano quotes Carroll’s take on the city in the late 1940s. “During this exact time period, the glory days of Fifty Second Street were in full swing with bebop sweeping the street like a tornado. At The Onyx, The Three Deuces, Jimmy Ryan’s, and other clubs, the bandstands were alive with the black beboppers who had invented the music up in Harlem and were now performing it for packed houses of whites who could not get enough of it. Charlie Parker, Dizzy Gillespie, Miles Davis, Bud Powell, Oscar Pettiford, Max Roach and other black boppers ruled supreme on Swing Street, and white players of repute were fighting to access the new music and jam along.”




Charlie Parker listens to Dizzy Gillespie sitting-in with Carroll's trio.

Carroll and Dizzy Gillespie
The energy and excitement was explosive. For Carroll, it was, “really something for a little girl from Worcester, Massachusetts.” According to Pizzi, in 1948, Carroll was Benny Goodman’s next choice (following his fall out with Mary Lou Williams) to record with his short-lived bebop combo, which featured Wardell Gray on tenor saxophone.

Through Goodman, Carroll made her earliest documented recording as part of a studio band led by Ake “Stan” Hasselgard. According to Friedwald, the Swedish clarinetist was both “Benny Goodman’s only protégé on his own instrument and probably the first person to play bebop on that instrument.”



Hear a clip of “Cottontop,” recorded in November 18, 1948 at: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=chwrtgiBgtE

Friedwald also reported that over the next few years, before her self-imposed retirement, Carroll recorded on “many classic early modern jazz sessions, including a live recording at the Royal Roost (with J.J. Johnson, Lee Konitz, Cecil Payne, Buddy DeFranco and Max Roach) in which she spells Bud Powell himself for one number and a fabulous studio date (with Red Rodney, Serge Chaloff, Al Cohn, and Oscar Pettiford) that’s been issued under both Chaloff and Pettiford’s names at different times.”



Georgie Auld
After the Club Downbeat, Carroll’s next steady gig in New York was at Georgie Auld’s Tin Pan Alley in the Hotel Markwell, at 49th and Broadway, where she worked as a single. According to Friedwald, Carroll’s first date as a leader happened in 1950, a date that included two originals, “Barbara’s Carol,” and “The Puppet Who Danced Bop.”


In 1951, when bassist Clyde Lombardi left to join the Woody Herman band, Carroll not only hired a replacement, she would meet her future husband, Joe Shulman, a known player around New York having participated in the Miles Davis’ Birth of the Cool sessions.

Claude Thornhill Orchestra, featuring bassist Joe Shulman

Carroll recalls their meeting. “My bass player was leaving so Herb Wasserman, the drummer, suggested I call Joe, who was a friend of his. Well, at the time he was playing with Peggy Lee and name bands like Claude Thornhill. So I said, ‘Oh, he wouldn’t want to work with me. But Herb told me to call him anyway. It turned out he was at liberty and so he came down and rehearsed with us. He found he liked the musical freedom of a small group, so he stayed on.”

The new trio’s first gig was at The Embers, 161 East 54th between Lexington and Third Streets. “They always had two attractions at once,” Carroll told writer Sanford Josephson. “Lo and behold, when we got there for rehearsal, I was told that the other act was Art Tatum. I restrained myself from running out on 54th Street into the traffic. Anyway, it was such an experience because we would play and then he would go on. He was so wonderful to me, so encouraging. And having the opportunity to listen to him every night was stunning.”

Art Tatum
Carroll told Downbeat magazine that the pianist, although intimidating, was very supportive. “The first time we were there,” she recalled, “He was very sweet and very helpful to me. He didn’t give me technical advice, but he realized it was a trauma playing opposite him, and he was very encouraging.”

These were heady times for Carroll and company. As Friedwald wrote: “Her trios and quartets provide accompaniment for such colossi as Paul Desmond, Stan Getz, and even Charlie Parker and Billie Holiday.”

Often hailed as the first feminine disciple of Bud Powell bop piano school, Carroll also began to acquire society following, playing many of the finest supper clubs in New York. She performed on stage as a jazz pianist in the Rodgers and Hammerstein production, Me and Juliet. And, through her work in theater, began to accompany cabaret singers.

See: Carroll with Sylvia Syms in a 1952 performance of Benny Carter’s “Lonely Woman” http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s4wwuRczxK8&feature=fvst



In 1957, tragedy hit. Her husband of three years, Schulman, died of a heart attack while the couple vacationed on Fire Island, NY. He was 33 – Sept. 12, 1923-Aug. 2, 1957. Shulman was one of the more in-demand bassists of his generation and his talents were diverse and all encompassing. He worked and recorded with everyone from Les Brown to Django Reinhardt, from Peggy Lee to Duke Ellington.

In her grief, Carroll continued working for as long as she could. “After he died it was very difficult,” she said, “because I wanted to work, but you see I was working with a trio and I needed a bass player and so I had to audition bass players. And, it was extremely difficult. Nobody played as well as he and, of course, nobody could fill his shoes …. It took a long time to get over that.”

Bebop Bobbie Carroll took time off from music in the 1960s. She returned to the music scene in 1972 and continues today. Her diverse musical career has encompassed appearing on Broadway with her trio in Rodgers and Hammerstein's Me and Juliet. Her extensive resume ranges from appearances in concert halls, jazz clubs, to major TV shows and festival stages throughout the world. She has also performed for President and Ms. Clinton at the White House.
In her illustrious career Carroll has recorded more than 30 albums. In her interview on “Fresh Air,” Gross asked Carroll how it felt to always be referred to as the 'lady pianist?' Asking, “I imagine you were thought of as almost like a novelty act, because you were a woman?”

Carroll answered by saying, “You put it very nicely. You are saying, 'lady' pianist. Actually what people would say when they were giving you the ultimate compliment was: 'Gee, you play good for a girl. Or, worst still, you play just like a man.'”

Note: This is a work in progress. Comments, corrections, and suggestions are always welcome at: walnutharmonicas@gmail.com. Also see: www.worcestersongs.blogspot.com
Thank you.

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Tuesday, February 4, 2014

Of Bishop, Billie, and the blues

By David "Chet" Williamson Sneade 

Reading the bullet items in her tragic life, it’s no wonder she became a poet. The grist in her biographical mill gushes out with grief and psychic pain, yet Elizabeth Bishop wrote it all down to become one of the most acclaimed poets of her generation. She was the Poet Laureate of the United States (1949-’50), won the Pulitzer Prize for poetry (1956), and The National Book Award (1970).

Born the only child to William T. Bishop and Gertrude May (Boomer) in Worcester on February 8, 1911, Elizabeth’s father died before her first birthday. Her mother then suffered a series of breakdowns before being committed to a mental institution when her child was only five years old.

The Bishop family home, 1212 Main Street, Worcester, MA

There’s more misfortune and triumph in Bishop’s well-documented life and times. This piece is about one particular slice of anguish that the poet endured. It is a pointed, three-cornered triangulation between her, a famous socialite named Louise Crane, and the legendary jazz singer Billie Holiday.

Bishop and Crane
Billie Holiday, circa 1940
















In 1930, Bishop enrolled in Vassar College in upstate New York where she majored in English Literature and co-founded the literary magazine Con Spirito. And, according to many accounts, Bishop also minored in off-campus social studies – especially those regarding her sexual orientation. While at Vassar she befriended a collection of young intellectuals – men and women -- including Louise Crane. The two young women would later become lovers.

Bishop graduated from Vassar in 1934, the year her mother died. After school, Bishop moved to New York City to pursue her dream of becoming a writer. She was first published in 1936. A collection of her poems appeared in Trial Balances, an anthology featuring young writers. Marianne Moore wrote the introduction. It looked like Bishop was on her way. Then, more tragedy.

Bishop, from class picture at Vassar
On November 21, 1936, Robert Seaver, a boyfriend from Bishop’s college years, committed suicide. As Brett C. Miller tells it in his book, Elizabeth Bishop: The Life and Memory of It, “Seaver had wanted to marry Elizabeth, and she told him that she felt that she would never marry … . When Seaver shot himself, perhaps in frustration at his loneliness and his physical limitations, the only note was a postcard, which arrived in her mailbox a few days after his death. It said, ‘Go to Hell, Elizabeth.’”

In the face of insurmountable grief and guilt, Miller says Bishop escaped to Key West, Florida with Crane, where the two young women purchased a home at 621 White Street, located on the beach, and lived together. Bishop described the place as “perfectly beautiful – inside and out – very well made, with slightly arched beams so that it looks either like a ship’s cabin or a freight car.” 

Bishop with her cat, Minnow
Bishop would reside there off and on for the next nine years and published her first volume of poems, North and South (1946), inspired by Bishop and Crane’s routine of “summering” in New York City and "wintering" in Key West. Miller also noted that the years of 1938 and 1939 was a particularly rough time for Bishop. Alcoholism and depression became issues in the poet’s life.

Bishop seaside with Winnie-Davis Crane (sister-in-law)

"Sleeping Figure," watercolor by Bishop
Crane is best known for her pedigree and literary associates. Her father was the American millionaire (Crane Paper Company) and former Massachusetts governor, Winthrop Murray Crane. Her mother was Josephine Porter Boardman, founder of the Museum of Modern Art. In addition to Bishop, Louise Crane was also friends with the writers Margaret Miller, Marianne Moore, and Tennessee Williams. Crane was raised in Dalton, Massachusetts.

In the late 1930s, early ‘40s Billie Holiday was a jazz star ascending. After successful tours as the “girl singer” with Count Basie, Artie Shaw, and Teddy Wilson, Holiday set out on her own. One of her first gigs as a single was at Cafe Society in the Greenwich Village section of New York. 

Josephson, 1939
Owned by the legendary Barney Josephson, it was a new venue with a new policy. One of the first of its kind, it was to be an integrated nightclub. Holiday opened at the club in January of 1939. In an interview with Whitney Balliett for The New Yorker, Josephson said: “Billie was my first female singer, when I opened Cafe Society … . She was the star of the show … . John Hammond helped set it up. Billie was not a newcomer, she had been around, but nothing happened for her until she came to Cafe Society.”

Holiday singing at Cafe Society

Cafe Society is also where Holiday introduced the controversial song-poem, “Strange Fruit” to audiences. Introduced by Josephson to Holiday, the piece is essentially a protest song against the lynching of black men in the South, an unconscionable act still practiced at that time. It would become Holiday’s signature piece.

Strange Fruit by Abel Meeropol, AKA, Lewis Allen

Southern trees bear a strange fruit,
Blood on the leaves and blood at the root,
Black bodies swinging in the southern breeze,
Strange fruit hanging from the poplar trees.

Pastoral scene of the gallant south,
The bulging eyes and the twisted mouth,
Scent of magnolias, sweet and fresh,
Then the sudden smell of burning flesh.

Here is fruit for the crows to pluck,
For the rain to gather, for the wind to suck,
For the sun to rot, for the trees to drop,
Here is a strange and bitter crop.

In all probability, Cafe Society is also the place where Bishop, Crane, and Holiday met. Unlike Bishop, who was more private and reclusive, Crane was a party girl who loved the big lights and big city. By the 1940s, Crane was spending as much time in New York as in Key West.

Poet as a young Bishop
In 1941, with the assistance of her mother, Crane started organizing “Coffee Concerts” at MoMA. Some of the names to appear include: Mary Lou Williams, Baby Lawrence, Benny Carter, Maxine Sullivan, and Billie Holiday.

In a letter written to poet Marianne Moore, dated June 5, 1941, Crane raved about the show. “Last night has given me something to think about for fifteen years!” Crane said. The concert was reviewed in The New York Times, mentioning a few of the songs that Holiday sang: “My Man Don’t Love Me” [sic. “Fine and Mellow”], “Forbidden Fruit” [sic. “Strange Fruit], “God Bless the Child,” and “I Cried for You.”

According to writer Tyler T. Schmidt, Crane by this time became more than a fan of Holiday. She started following her from club to club, even around the country while on tour.

In her book, Desegregating Desire: Race and Sexuality in Cold War American Literature, Tyler says, “Louise Crane was an obsessive-compulsive Holiday fan and initiated Bishop into jazz cafes and the singer’s songbook.” Tyler cites the singer’s account of their relationship in Holiday’s autobiography, Lady Sings the Blues: “Brenda -- her pseudonym for Crane -- was crazy about my singing and use to wait for me to finish up. I wasn't blind. I hadn't been on Welfare Island for nothing. It wasn't long before I knew I had become a thing for this girl.”

Lady Sings the Blues was ghost written by William Duffy. In an interview with Producer-director David Turnbull, Duffy revealed that Holiday was “happy to write about her bi-sexuality and even prepared to name names,” citing relationships with among others Tallulah Bankhead and Orson Welles.


Turnbull, who produced a documentary on Holiday for the BBC, told reporter Allison Kerr that Holiday sexuality had never been discussed on TV before, attention usually focused on the singer’s drug use. “There wasn't room for the stories we heard about men taking their wives backstage to meet Billie, and then finding out that the wives had actually gone off for the night with her,” Turnbull said.

Holiday by Carl Van Vechten
The coup de grâce for Bishop was the learning of Crane and Holiday’s relationship. Although the alleged affair has never been fully substantiated, the rumors abound. 

Jonathan Ellis, in his book, Art and Memory in the Work of Elizabeth Bishop, wrote, “the relationship is said to have ended after Bishop discovered Crane in bed with Billie Holiday.” Writer Mark Howell in the Florida publication, Keynews said, "Within a couple of years of their arrival here, however, Crane left Bishop for Billie Holiday, the blues singer, whom she pursued in New York City. Bishop, it was said, became suicidal."

Ironically, Bishop was also a huge fan of Holiday, and jazz and blues singers like Bessie Smith in general. In fact, she wrote a collection of poems, called “Songs for a Colored Singer” with Lady Day in mind, hoping that she might consider singing and recording the work some day.

Writer Camille Roman in her piece, “Billie Holiday and Other Stars: Bishop with Louise Crane” also identifies Crane’s infatuation with Holiday and suggests that in order to construct a clearer picture of Bishop, further studies should be done in the way of considering the poet’s “night life.” Roman also says that the poems were written from the perspective of a rival as much as that of a fan.

From "Songs for a Colored Singer"  
IV

What’s that shining in the leaves,
the shadowy leaves,
like tears when somebody grieves,
shining, shining in the leaves?

Is it dew or is it tears,
dew or tears,
hanging there for years and years
like a heavy dew of tears?

Then that dew begins to fall,
roll down and fall.
Maybe it’s not tears at all.
See it, see it roll and fall.

Hear it falling on the ground.
hear, all around.
That is not a tearful sound,
beating, beating on the ground.

See it lying there like seeds,
like black seeds.
See it taking root like weeds,
faster, faster than the weeds.

all the shining seeds take root,
conspiring root,
and what curious flower or fruit
will group from that conspiring root?

Fruit or flower? It is a face.
Yes, a face.
In that dark and dreary place.
Each seed grows into a face.

Like an army in a dream
the faces seem,
darker, darker, like a dream
They’re too real to be a dream.

-- Elizabeth Bishop

Songs for a Colored Singer” was first published in 1944. Composers Ned Rorem and Elliott Carter would later set the lines to music.


Elizabeth Bishop continued to write long after this dramatic episode with many more tragedies and triumphs. 

Fortunately, the life of this great poet is well-documented. She died in Boston on October 6, 1979.



Note: This is a work in progress. Comments, corrections, and suggestions are always welcome at: walnutharmonicas@gmail.com. Also see: www.worcestersongs.blogspot.com
Thank you.


Resources