New Orleans Jazz; 2; Papa Jack: The Patriarch

Some where in this 1885 map of all New Orleans, is the neighborhood where Jazz Pioneer Jack Lane was born. In New Orleans, in the summer of 1963, we visited a man known affectionately in Jazz circles and now Papa Jack Lane.

This is Jack Lane, credited as one of the creators of Jazz. He invented a foot pedal for the bass drum. In the early years, Papa Jack had as many as five bands spreading the phenomenon of Jazz to New Orleans and subsequently to the world by musicians grown and nurtured by him, among them the most famous names and jazz. This man as one of the principal sources for the growth of Jazz around the world may well be called the Patriarch of Jazz.

Papa, what did you first start playing music? Well, I couldn't say because I'm a kid on up, I used to be playing with tin bands and one thing, and after I got to around 12, 14 years old, I began to get the bands together. Your playmates, followed in the neighborhood? Yes, all, all out of the neighborhood, all the kids, all of us kids. Go to school, ask them to come from school, fire in New York, play around New York, make parades, you never know.

What kind of instruments did you use? What kind of instruments did you use? Nickel flutes. Nickel flutes? You remember, long can flutes yourself for a nickel. One of them, the kids used to get that, then two or three of the boys picked up on it all. This would be a spazin' band with a wash tub for a drum. Pi-pan is the rattle like a tamarind when you loosely fixed bent nails. Two blocks of wood with sandpaper rubbed together, a comb and a piece of tissue paper, and they were in business. What was the instrument? The likes of such as old trumpets, carnets, trombones, households, stuff like that, the kids picked by the stuff on them, you know. You must keep upon ramparts, because there's anything you want in a line of an instrument. You should keep them up from here, keep them, bring them here, wherever they used to get them from, I don't know.

But you could always buy and order instruments and some kind of their cheap. Great quantities of instruments were abandoned in New Orleans by the military after the civil and Spanish American wars. Of course, the city had always been a music center. How did you learn to play the instruments? A man by the name of Perkins. The finest boy, wherever you met your life, he was old musician, but still he was older than anyone of us. He was older than anyone of us. He was a man about, I'll say about, 22 years old, but he could read that music like nobody's business, and play. He was all musician. Do you remember some of the tunes used to play? Well, I remember the tunes, but the harmonica I couldn't. I'd like to have meatball, flouring.

I'd like to have meatball, flouring. What was that? Tiger rag? Tiger rag. To change that name, meatball, the tiger rag. Flouring and all that kind of a name we used to have for stuff. I mean, it was good music. You ought to think you can have a little bit for us. Well, et flurry used to go... Luh, la, la... Luh, la, la... Luh, la, la... Luh, la, la... Luh, la, la, la... Luh, la, la... Luh, la, la... Luh, la, la... That's how it used to go. That's great. Now, the other one, oh, yeah, we used to ducky bays, yeah. I'd like to relay the story about Kentucky bays all that's way back around about 1910.

1910 had planted bandwood with us and the stoves was in the, in the canvases hotel and they were playing for Mississippi one. And it was right in the park, in the center of the park, there was kind of a mound there, it was right around that mound, and we were on this side in a place called Kelly's hotel, the kids' band and my band, see.

That's where I had two bays out, I used to find a tree band, four bays, but this year I had two bays out. Now, these stoves are faster and more so, kids, kindergarten kids going to play music. Kids used to get around in here all of a sudden, all of a sudden, all of a sudden, it's a me. So one time I leave, to go to our engine house where we go to play, I took all the kids out of the street. And I said, here on Kentucky Day, I said, when you get the, get the tree over, I said, get it down, soft, soft, soft. They understood me, regular piano. Okay. Now they were in the park and they were blazing away, them soldiers, blazing away, and they had any bones, any buttons today and all that kind of stuff, you know.

Okay. Well, they got finished. How are they the kids? Start. Bum, bum, bum, bum, bum, bum, bum, bum, bum, bum, Kentucky Day. It may not bother them so they come across the street and cook hands with all of them and kids. Actually, they're two playing Kentucky Days. Yes, sir. Believe me or not. Not my band, but that is the band I had, but the kids band. And all of these are so light. And guys, come across right out of the park and cook hands with all of them, kids. I mean, they were no kindergarten then.

Papa Jack's kid bands expanded and grew into five or more adult bands that produced some of the most famous jazz musicians of our time, such as the original Dixie Land Jazz Band, which helped spread the word in 1916 by leaving New Orleans and going to Chicago, New York, and London. And by recording, original Dixie Land One Step, which Papa Jack has referred to as Plarrine. Nick Lovaca and Tony Spabara, Larry Shields, Johnny Stein, Eddie Edwards. I'll see the yellow Nunez and Henry Braggas. Then there was the New Orleans rhythm kings, with George Prunez. Steve Brown. Leon Rippola. On La Conna, Chink Martin, Charlie Cadilla. And Tom Brown took a band to Chicago in 1915, but they didn't record. And the original New Orleans Jazz Band. So much demand for my band that I kept organizing band after band until I got five bands. And I had them ago, and I mean they were going to make them money too. Even so, if we had to play all night long for $3, they were working at it.

Yes. It's a pain to play a picnic like a millenborg from nine o'clock in the morning to six at night in the afternoon. Three to hell with. Two and a half. Then, with Jeff, well I played to talk about playing music. That's how I'd leave that millenborg. I need to go to the suburban park, Christian park, or a certain amount of parks over the river. And I'd play over there till 12 o'clock at night time. I would hardly have any chance to get home, get something to eat, and all we had to do for another job. And I mean I kept busy. I mean they had me going all the time. It was seven days a week. You put it in there, you put it in there, you put it in there, you put it in there.

Yes. I've seen myself play five jobs in one day. One day, I advertised different kinds of pills for Dr. Kebler. It was then on Rapport and the Legiontees. Just from him, I advertised a medal with his ball. Just from the medal with his ball, get up town and play the day parade. I had to play the day parade, get back in that wagon. Play the finished playing that advertised with the ball. Get down in front of the street and play the view of the master, the views of the master. I tell you we had all this, I mean. Almost all these men are gone. He's about the only one living. Yeah, there's only about three, about three of them living. Out of about 35, 35, 40, and kids.

Do you see these old friends often? No. Don't see them. No. Only one. One of my knowers printed that off. He's crippling. They were living in a arena chair. They went north. They didn't even went north, you know. Chicago, New York, and appraisal and stuff like that. Yeah. That's because the most of my men anyhow is drafted. I was doing the first ball, I understand. They headed up the line to matches, Pittsburgh, Memphis, St. Louis, Chicago, East to Mobile, Pensacola, Jacksonville, and West to Galveston and the coast. Some could manage the train fare with many hitchhiked, but all of a carrying the jazz message to what must have been a waiting world. Ten-roof blues, high society. Melanburg Joy's, West End Blues, Usgrad Rambo.

South Rand Park Street, Hurray. Where did you get your first drop? At the World Fair, Cotton Sugar Exposition. Cotton Sugar Exposition. What year was that? That was 85. But what time? The close. I really don't know. How did you happen to get an instrument at the exposition? Were they selling in there? My old man brought it to me. I never knew no more about it than you did until he brought it to me. A little drum. My son loaned it to a policeman one time ago in a police man. He forgot who would loan it to him and never got the little drum back. No? He played corner at my boy's age, you know. He never got that drum back. But the big drum, I've been having all the while, I give that to Dr. Shushon. There's no jazz without a beat, and the drum is the boss. How appropriate that Papa Jack, the patriarch of jazz,

not only played the drum, but actually invented the foot pedal on the bass drum, as we know it today, according to a wealth of evidence. What you was going to tell him about the drum, about making your foot pedals on all yourself? Give me that stick. I can explain it better. I was seeing this was a rod. Well, on the end here I had a baseball. I strapped and hold and down to the cymbal to the foot pedal. Overhead, overhead from the baseball, I had a little arm leading out like that but it was sort of a hammer with it, John, and the pedal was right to the side of the drum. And that was hit. The same time I hit the bass drum and hit that pedal, that cymbal. On the top here, over the bass drum, of course I had a clamp to hold on.

Hold the rod up on the bass drum. He revolved and clamped. Then I had a spring from here, over to the side of the bass drum. And when that spring was used to pull that lever over, there's a lever over. Every time I went down and I started to snap, come back again, when I raised my feet, and make cymbal, double-lick, I could make a bridge right away and come back again. It was really good, it was really good to get up. The pedal was just a little piece of wood about that size with a little piece on the top of it, with the hinge. I used to work up and down. One end of this pedal was attached to the baseball. Jack Lane was born September 21st, 1873, and his 19th birthday of 1963

was marked by a parade of fire engines, all cars, many congratulatory comments by civic dignitaries, and most appropriately jazz. I was born September 21st, 1873, and I had a spring from here and I had a spring from here, and I had a spring from here. Then I had a spring from here, and I had a spring from here. I can pop in Jack's day, he sent his marching bands out for any number of very good reasons.

Mardi Gras, 4th of July, almost a stay, Memorial Day, Labor Day, Pignix, Civic Affairs and Edications, almost any excuse for a parade. They also played funerals for departed fellow members, their way as they put it of giving something to the family. For 60 years he belonged to volunteer fire companies, David Crockett, Dennis Schien, which he organized, and West End and Biloxi among them. Did you play during the Spanish-American War at the Games? What sort of engagements were there? Well, we played for the Army, for the soldiers. At the same time we played all the marches and all that sort of stuff. That's what I had that band for. Could have just sent to St. Louis for the exposition. Tommy Alfred, Tommy Oates, and Amy, what's his name? Tommy Oates.

Tommy Oates. Tommy Oates. Tommy Oates. Tommy Oates. Tommy Alfred. Oh, you late. You late. You late. You late. Well, they're right time in. Yes. Yes. And they asked me to go up there and send them up there, and I sent them three pieces up there. And I said it was five or together in that band. See? It was two extra men. The pump changed Louis. And they played. In the plastic, it was a pump garden, an artificial pump garden, right on the outside of the ground, this position ground. It just opened open there, and a platform. Now, what they have is a shed light, where the shed beer and stuff like that. Bring it out on the tables and open gardens, artificial pump gardens. Well, I was up there for a week with them, but I couldn't stay up there on the kind of having that band is going down here.

But the St. Louis boys variant at all? Yes. I said praise by nose and praise by air. Yes. Did they play straight stuff? Or did they get off? All the while. True. Tell me all the things. Ocean. And you lay when up there and welcome into ragtime. And they played pretty good. They were playing pretty good when I left. And I was going to stay one week. Do you feel there's any difference between ragtime and jazz? Not very much. Not very much. Because the jazz right now seems to me is too much swing in it. Now, I don't know whether I'm right or wrong. But it looks like to me it seems to me that way. Too much swing. And then another thing with this music, jazz music right now. The trombone will take down praise pot. Clarinet, take down praise pot. Drunkware praise, he's pot, and all that sort of stuff.

It never was a dream. Everybody had to stay in and fill out. No one to one instrument playing. Everybody, everyone in the band had to stay in and fill out the full number. No soloists? No. You just had somebody playing lead. Play the full number of everyone. No taking out, taking rest, the stuff like you see bands do now. Let the clarinet play a solo or something like that. Trombone, something like that. Violin or something like that. No, no. We all stayed in, fill out from the commencement of the number until we wound up. And that used to go forward with everybody. Did the rock is going on? The rock was one of them went down. Was he a pretty good musician? Well, I'd tell you.

Well, Nick played a clarinet, but he didn't play a clarinet which suits me. You understand? But still in order. He always was behind me, behind me, behind me, and always kept going. Now, he had the five bands I lead him. He lead the man, you see? So I kept Nick going along with me. So one night, we played a political parade. Had five bands out. I'm not pretty good at that. Nick had to be in one of them bands. Now, this is before I broke up the band. And some brother come out and ask who would you lead? I come out with a crowd of boys and ask who would you lead? So he was Nick, Nick, the rocker for the first one. And Nick kind of made some kind of arrangements with him. The next day, this man and Nick met together somewhere in other shows

with boys was telling me. And he overdone me as that there, on that job. Otherwise, I could have sent him. And the rest of the man over was one of the go. So then another night, about two nights and three nights after that, we were playing for the hours. Nick and Rocky sent him another call and prayer in his place because he was packing up ready to go north. What year was that, Papa? Well, I really couldn't say, I couldn't mention it. I didn't follow it up for you. The original Dixieland Jazz Band arrived in Chicago May 3rd, 1916, with Johnny Stein as leader and drummer, Nick, the rocker, Cornette, Henry Raga's piano, Eddie Edwards' trombone, and I'll see you on the next clarinet, who was incidentally Mama Lane's cousin. Their material was Dixieland one step,

delivery stable blues, Skeleton Jango, and High Society. Almost a year later, in February 1917, the first jazz record ever issued was made by the personnel just mentioned, for the exception of Stein and Nunez. Larry Sheeves came in on clarinet, and Tony Spargo on drums. The two numbers were original Dixieland one step at a delivery stable blues. Did Ragtime or Jazz come from New Orleans? Did Ragtime or Jazz come from New Orleans? Yes, they're right from the city, right from the city. Who started it? Who started what? Ragtime. I did. Yourself? Myself. My band started Ragtime. I did it in the city. How did you get the idea? Just simply come to us like that. Just simply come to us like that.

In fact, if he asked us to play any straight stuff, we wouldn't know it anyhow. We'd have to mix up a whole lot of stuff and make something out of it. That's how we did it. And I mean it went. Went, went, heavy. There are so many who claim to have originated jazz that it's reasonable to assume no one man is totally responsible. Stale Brad Lacombe, Nicola Rocca. Tom Brown, and more importantly perhaps, Buddy Bolton, Jollyrow Morton, and others. But it is possible, in a sense, to measure the contribution of individuals. And the measure from Jacqueline is in the record and enormous. Did you have a chance to make any recordings? Never. There wasn't such a thing. Television and nothing like that wasn't on the market. Nothing like that.

Therefore I couldn't do anything like that. And the wise I would have did it. Didn't some of your boys make records though? Didn't some of your boys make records? After they went, no. Who made records up there? Well, it was claimed. Noone asked. Rocca? Edwards? I don't know who else. Couple of many. I made records up there. All our numbers, all my numbers. Everyone knows. And what the thing is, they changed the name. That's all. Give a different name. What does jazz mean to you? What does it mean, Jimmy? Yes. Is it a way to make a living? Is it a way to be happier? Just what does it mean? Or is it all these things? Well, I never knew nothing about jazz. All right, Tom. All right, Tom. All right, Tom. All right, Tom. All right, Tom.

All right, Tom. All right, Tom. All right, Tom. What did they call it, jazz? It was ragtime music. What did it mean to you to be a musician? What did you get up to? What did you get up to? What did you get up to? I loved it. I loved it. It was a kid on. I loved to play music. I never wanted anything else but music. Music. Music is all I wanted. To indeed, within their lifetime, I've been part of the virtual birth, development and maturing of an art, as has Jack Lane in these 90 years of his life. Yet, he seems unaware of the significance of his contribution to art and culture. He played what he thought was a simple song, but the encores may never end. Music. Music.

Music. Music.