New Orleans Jazz; 6; Oh Didn't They Ramble

This is Alvin Alcorn, one of New Orleans' top horned leader for this gig, incidentally, an old friend of Sidney Boucher. Sweet Him and the Bellgale, in style, without the bells, is that authentic or New Orleans jazz sound. Andrew Morgan earns his living selling insurance, with his clarinet he carries on in the tradition of Alphonse Bicou, Irving Fizzola, and other jazz grades. Captain Handy, sixty-four years old, has been playing sax since he was eleven. Bassman Kid Butler, whose unique handling of the blues, takes us back to the year one in jazz. Peo George Gano, whose banjo is reminiscent of The Rolling Twins, a close friend of Jelly Roll Morton,

and Sy Fraser, an old parade man, whose drum has boomed through the streets and alleys of the Crescent City for fifty years. This is jazz, not just any kind, but a special New Orleans brand. It started here, and it's being played by some of the people who were in on it almost from the beginning.

Who started it? Well, a lot of different people, and it started in the deep south and in the New Orleans area. What is jazz? Well, as an old saying, it is still true, but if you gotta have it explained, you ain't got it. You know, I don't know how to play it, but it's not a big deal.

I don't know how to play it, but I don't know how to play it. I don't know how to play it. I don't know how to play it, but I don't know how to play it. I don't know how to play it, but I don't know how to play it. I don't know how to play it, but I don't know how to play it. There's a kind of similarity between this area, which is called a pit of Paris in the United States, because some of the writers and famous artists

who spent time here during this century were Hemingway and Faulkner and Rob Bradford and Mark Twain earlier and O'Henry and Lecati O'Hern. Apparently, they found a kind of creative atmosphere here that made them turn out some of the things that they did turn out. So what I'm making a parallel, too, a parallel with, is the fact that jazz jumped from New Orleans to Europe rather readily and found the home immediately in Paris. And another little link of connection, which you don't have to work too hard to find, Sydney Boucher, a New Orleans clarinetist who went to Paris in the 30s, ruled the route there for about 30 years. Alvin Alcorn, I'll lead it tonight. Alvin, did you know Sydney? I knew Sydney very well.

Did you ever play with them? Well, no, I didn't. I never worked with Sydney, but I knew them very well. Did you ever tour Europe with them? No, I met Sydney again in 56 when I was on a tour with Kilori. There's the last time I saw a few of these ladies here in Paris. Well, Alvin plays a very fine horn, as you'll notice in a minute, because he's going to play us one of these quiet and subdued and soulful things called making a palace on the floor. Alvin, if you will. Emma, sweet Emma the Bellgale has one that she always does, and it always gets a big reception, and tonight will be no exception.

Bill Bailey, won't you please come home, Emma? Bill Bailey, won't you please come home? Bill Bailey, won't you please come home?

Now, won't you come home, Bill Bailey? Won't you come home? Oh, she cried all night long. I'll enjoy your cooking, baby. I'll even pay your rent, because I know I don't do that. Now, I remember that rain in the night, when I told you I was heading out there, nothing but a fine comb. I know I'm the blame, and it's a load I'm dead to change. Bill Bailey, won't you please come home?

Won't you come home, Bill Bailey? Won't you come home? Cry all night long. I'll enjoy your cooking, baby. I'll even pay your rent, because you know you don't ever have a thing. Now, I remember that rain in the night, and I told you I was heading out there, nothing but a fine comb. I know I'm the blame, and it's a load I'm dead to change. Bill Bailey, won't you please come home? Cry all night long. I'll enjoy your cooking, baby. I'll enjoy your cooking, baby.

Cry all night long. I'll enjoy your cooking, baby. I'll enjoy your cooking, baby. Cry all night long. I'll enjoy your cooking, baby. I'll enjoy your cooking, baby. Cry all night long. I know I'm the blame, and it's a load I'm dead to change. Bill Bailey, won't you please come home? You know, as prevalent as jazz is the world over today, there still is a tendency on the part of real jazz buffs to get together and form clubs.

Sometimes they're just listening groups, sometimes they're performing groups, and sometimes they're a combination as in the case of the New Orleans Jazz Club. This club is well represented here tonight, and the person that Harry Sushon and New Orleans Attorney, whose brother you may recall you met on one of the earlier programs in this series, Dr. Edmund Sushon. Harry, how did the New Orleans Jazz Club get started? Well, Vernon's such a colorful story that it's almost unbelievable, actually. There were five fellas back in 1948 who followed the Zulu parade all day long just to hear real New Orleans music, because that was the only place you could hear it in those days. Well, they decided something should be done about it, and they organized the New Orleans Jazz Club, which was originally, as you'd call it, a Listeners Club. The only place you could hear the jazz was if you'd pull out your old 78 records and play them. Well, that's just what we did. That's how it got started.

How many members do you have now? Oh, we have about 1,500 members. Really? Yeah, all over the world. Really, I think that's wrong. Tell me, Harry, you said that New Orleans Jazz wasn't being heard at that time except for to right there. Do you feel that, because of the rebirth of interest in New Orleans Jazz, that it's a kind of a cure form of jazz music that whenever died? It's the basic thing, Vernon, without knowing really something about New Orleans Jazz, I can't conceive of any musician playing any form of jazz, even modern jazz, unless he had the basic foundations of the traditional New Orleans music. Would you say it ever is dated? Dated? Yeah, in a sense that it may be dead. Yes, in the sense that Rembrandt's may be dated. Chippendales? Chippendales are any sort of thing, but not outdated or outmoded, certainly the foundation of everything. Well put, Harry, very well put. George Creole, George Gano. Chippendales, George Gano.

Chippendales. Chippendales. Chippendales. Chippendales. Chippendales.

Chippendales. Chippendales. Chippendales. Chippendales. Chippendales.

Chippendales. Chippendales. Chippendales. Thank you.

Chippendales. Chippendales. Chippendales. Chippendales.

Chippendales. Chippendales. Chippendales. Chippendales.

Chippendales. Chippendales. Chippendales. Chippendales.

Chippendales. Chippendales. Chippendales. Chippendales.

Chippendales. Chippendales. Chippendales. Chippendales.

Chippendales. Chippendales. Chippendales. Chippendales.