Interview with Art Landry

Art Landry Narrator

Carl Warmington Interviewer

May 8, 1987 Nokomis, Florida home of Mr. Landry

Art Landry - AL Carl Warmington - CW

CW: I'm sitting on the porch with Art Landry, now ninety-eight years old, as he recalls some of the highlights of his famous Victor Recording Orchestra engagements. Art begins with the early musical days of the Landry Family Orchestra in Minneapolis.

AL: I was a concert violinist, and I used to appear in concerts with my father and mother. My mother had played the organ at the Curtis Hotel for many years, and my father was a teacher and a concert singer. We went to Minneapolis becauseSociety they were going to have a symphony. Emil Oberhoffer had the first orchestra--I think that was in 1903. We went there to give a concert, and my father said, "This is where we are going to stay. We are going to make our home here."

He had read in the paper about going West, and we went west, west, west. We went to Minneapolis by way of Duluth. In Buffalo, we took the boat and went all through the Great Lakes. It took two weeks to get from HistoricalBuffalo to Duluth, and then we went down to Minneapolis. It was a great experience for us, for the whole family.

Finally, my father got interested in the Minneapolis School of Music, and we made that our home. We werethe booked Twin as a family Cities out of theOral University History extension Projectdivision. Before that, we had played the Lyceum and then the Chautauqua circuit. We were booked all over Minnesota. We playedMinnesota the Iron Range and all the other towns--Rochester and Biwabik and Hibbing and all those old terrible places to work in the wintertime. My God, it was below zero weather, you know. I can tell you some of the funniest stores you ever heardJazz about barnstorming in on the concert tour in the early 1900s. Fantastic.

CW: When did you get involved with your own orchestra?

AL: Well, when I came back from the service, I had been away close to three years, lacking two months. My mother and father lived at the Curtis Hotel in Minneapolis. When I came back, I knew it was going to take at least a year, if not much more, to get into the shape I was when I left the concert tour to go into the Marine Corps.

I was going down the hotel hallway to get to the elevator when I was seen by Mr. and Mrs. Mellany. They owned the hotel. They said, "Hello, Arthur, how are you?"

"Fine and dandy," I said.

They said, "Oh, are we glad that you kids are home! Your father and mother have been worrying about you for years. Would you like to have dinner with us tonight?"

I said, "I would be delighted," because I had come off a ration kit--I ate everything, you know. So I went to dinner with them that night.

After dinner, Mr. Mellany said to me, "Arthur, I wonder if you could do me a favor?"

I said, "I will if I can--I would be tickled to death. I don't know what the favor could be, but whatever it is, I will try."

"Well," he said, "I don't know anything about music, except what I like. I know what I like and what I don't like. I don't know where to get an orchestra, but I would like to put in some supper music." Society "I think that's a good idea," I said.

"Well, will you help me?"

"Yes," I said, "I’ll go down to the union tomorrow and put a notice down there. I'll have an outfit for you within a few days." Historical So I went down to the union and put a notice up on the board with my telephone number. The hotel had a big ballroom of course, and the dining room had that little stage. So we would have our auditions there.

My God, I was amazedthe. They Twin were terribleCities. I didn't Oral have Historythe nerve to recommend Project anyone. I must have listened to a dozen combos. You see, all the good ones were gone. We were just getting back, and theMinnesota services had drained all the available musicians. That's why it was so hard to get them. So I thought I would keep trying. I was walking down in front of the office,Jazz and inMr. Mellany saw me and asked me how it was going.

I said, "I've got some trouble. I've got some bad news for you, Mr. Mellany. I've listened to a dozen combos in the last few days, but I wouldn't recommend them. You would throw them out before the week was out. But I'll keep on."

Then the thought came to me--gee, I'm home, why not?

I said, "Mr. Mellany, would you mind if I put a combo together, a sextet?"

He said, "Would you do that?"

"Of course," I said.

He said, "What are you going to do about your concerts?"

Well, he didn't know that it was going to take me a year, so I explained it to him.

"Oh," he said, "Is that the way it is?"

I said, "Yes, it will be at least a year before I go back. I don't mind playing supper music."

So I did. I put a sextet together--Art Landry's Symphonic Sextet.

CW: What was the make-up of this sextet?

AL: I had a piano, violin, French horn, and saxophone. All of these boys played two or three instruments each. I have a recording of that group. Now, you won't believe this, but I used to play "Scheherazade" and "The Swan" on my concert tours. So what I would do is put them to rhythm. Society

[Music]

The boys were marvelous--they knew all the melodies. But it wasn't jazz. Of course, you couldn't use the word "jazz" in those days, because the connotation was bad.

So our group started playing. Mr. Mellany cameHistorical in with his wife . He had a table near the entrance, in the corner, and he and his friends used to have dinner there. When we had opened, he took out a whole page ad "Art Landry and His Classical Sextet are now playing at the Curtis Dining Room for Dinner. We have the finest dinner music in the land." You know anthe ad like Twin that cost Cities a lot of money. Oral We History hadn't talked Projectabout the money for this--we didn't know anything about money. We were actually auditioning.

So we started, and peopleMinnesota thought it was great. Within a week, the place started filling up. Then within a month and a half, you had to have reservations. Ropes came up--you know, the plushJazz ropes in went up at the entrance. If you didn't have a reservation, you might have to stand there for a long time.

Three or four weeks went by, and Mr. Mellany never said a thing about money. We were playing our brains out. Finally, one day the head waiter came up to me. He had a silver tray with Mr. Mellany's card on it, and he said, "Mr. Mellany would like to see you after the session."

I thought, "Well, it's either yes or no. He either likes it or he doesn't."

So I told the waiter that I would come down to see Mr. Mellany. Mr. Mellany's wife had left, and I sat with him at his table.

He said, "Arthur, I like the music. I think it's great. Now I'd like to know what this is going to cost me."

Well, I was thinking, "God, he spent all this money."

He had fixed up the platform beautifully, with red plush carpet. We were wearing tuxedos--it was high class. So I thought I would leave it up to him.

I said, "Mr. Mellany, I don't know much. This is new to me. I work from the concert stage. You spent a lot of money promoting this thing. I don't know how far you want to go, but I want to be fair. I will leave it up to you."

He said, "I've been giving it some thought, you know."

"Well," I said, "That's fine. I'm glad to know that."

He said, "I'll tell you, now this is negotiable. If you are not satisfied,Society we'll get together. But I want to tell you in advance, I have no secrets. I love the music, and we'll get together one way or another."

I said, "Fine, that's fine with me."

He said, "I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll give your men fifty dollars a week, and I'll give you a hundred dollars a week. You will have a suiteHistorical in the hotel and your meals. If that is satisfactory with you, fine. If it's not, we'll get together."

So I said I would take it up with the boys. The next morning, I called them and said, "I want you to get in a little bit early tonight, about a half an hour early, if you will." the Twin Cities Oral History Project They all agreed, and when they came in later, they said, "What's up, Art?" Minnesota I said, "Well, we had a proposition made to us, and I want to know whether it is all right with Jazzyou." in

So I told them what it was, and they all said, "Well, we hope you took it."

"No," I said, "I wouldn't take it without talking with you guys--after all, some of you guys play with the symphony."

They were getting thirty-five or forty dollars a week for playing Bach. True, they only worked for two days, but they had rehearsals. Even so, who hired musicians at supper time in those days? That was cream on the butter.

I said, "Well, I'll go back and tell him."

So I went back and talked with Mr. Mellany, and he was delighted.

He said, "Well, that's fine."

And it seemed as if the music got better from then on. I made all the arrangements. I'd take these Broadway shows and make arrangements from them. People would come in just to hear the doggone arrangements.

CW: This was supper music, without dancing.

AL: Oh, no dancing at supper time! This was from six to eight p.m., with no dancing. Never! About two or three weeks after that, about fifteen minutes into the session, a couple got up and started dancing to "The Swan" and "The Barcarole." I looked at the piano player, and he looked at me, and we thought, "What the heck is going on here? Who are they? They must be from the sticks."

Well, you know, Minneapolis is in the sticks. So if we thoughtSociety Minneapolis was in the sticks, you can imagine where the sticks really were--it could be in South Dakota. [Laughter]

Anyway, in comes Mr. and Mrs. Mellany. They sat down, and they stopped and looked.

I said to the piano player quietly, "This is it, boys." Historical I want to tell you something, they were both looking. Then Mr. Mellany stood to get a better look. All of a sudden, he sat down as if nothing had happened. Then he started to order his dinner. the Twin Cities Oral History Project I said to myself, "Well, I'm going to go down there after the session. I'm just going to take the bull by the horns, either it is supper music or it isn't. Are you satisfied? What is wrong with it?" Minnesota

I wentJazz down there in later and said, "Mr. Mellany, what do you think? How do you like it?"

He said, "What, like what?"

I said, "You know..."

"I love the music," he said. "What's the matter, aren't you boys happy?"

"No," I said, "I'm thinking about the dancing."

"Oh," he said, "it's their money. I don't give a darn if they want to dance at supper time."

I said, "Well, you know they don't do that."

"Well," he said, "they are doing it now."

I said, "Yes, they are. You don't mind?"

"No," he said.

Well, the boys hadn't gone home--they were waiting to see what had happened. So I went back and I told them that everything was okay. We were on the job the next day.

We had started playing in the fall, in late September. We had the big Christmas dinner party, and then New Years. That went late. About two or three weeks after that, a fellow came in and sat down. I forget what paper he worked for, but I knew him. He listened while he was eating. Of course, all we were playing was classical. I will admit that we did play around with the arrangements. Boy, did he razz us in the Sunday paper. Did he take us to time! "Art Landry desecrates the classics." Holy Toledo! My father read it on Sunday. He caught me on the corner and said, "You better go downstairsSociety and get the paper."

I said, "What's wrong, Dad?"

"Boy, you'll find out," he said. "I can't tell you, but it's a dilly."

So I went down and read it. I couldn't believeHistorical it. This guy knew the family. He knew my past, and he had given me good write-ups before. I couldn't believe this. I had seen him there eating, and I had told the waiter, "Don't give him a check--he's a friend of mine." [Laughter]

Variety picked it up,the and differentTwin newspapers Cities pickedOral it up.History Within a week Project or two, if you don't think everybody knew Art Landry and His Symphonic Sextet, you've got another guess coming. They hadMinnesota a patsy, and they were going to nail him to the cross.

In thoseJazz days, Variety,in the vaudeville and music publication had a record of where all bands were playing. The only way to get in touch with a band was to go to Variety, because we were playing one- and two-night stands, or at one hotel for one week and another the next.

Eddie King was the recording manager for His Master's Voice.

CW: Is that the same as Victor Recording?

AL: Yes, Victor was His Master's Voice first. His Master's Voice was London Records. It came here as His Master's Voice, and then it became Victor Recording. Then it became RCA [Radio Corporation of America] and so on.

Anyway, Eddie King went to Variety to find out where our band was playing. He was going to California because Hollywood wanted to use some of his recordings for background music for a picture. He thought he would stop off in Minneapolis and see the guy who was causing all this commotion.

One night I was sitting there, and the room was filling up nicely. This man came up and gave me a little card. There was a little dog on it listening to a gramophone. The card said, "His Master's Voice, Edward King, Recording Manager, Camden, New Jersey, Victor Recordings."

"Well!" I thought to myself.

I showed it to the boys, and they laughed and said, "Who in the hell is putting you on?" Musicians did that then. They were young, you know, and they got into mischief.

I said, "My God, I don't know." Society

They said, "Do you think it would be Johnny Long at the Radisson?"

"Oh, no," I said. "He wouldn't do that to me--I know him."

So we kept guessing. Well, would it be so and so? Would it be Ben Rubinoff? Who could it be? I didn't know, but it was a funny one. HistoricalSure enough, someone was putting us on. Who in the world would want Art Landry and His Symphonic Sextet from Minneapolis? That recording company had [Igor] Paderewski--they had the greatest recording artists in all the world. The last thing they would want would be dance records.

"Well," I thought tothe myself Twin. "As long Cities as he wants Oral to see me,History I'll go down Project and see him."

Of course, with a sextet,Minnesota I couldn't leave. I was the director, playing first violin--I was playing the lead. Jazz in After a while, the waiter came up and said that he wanted to see me.

I thought to myself, "Boy, he's really putting me on here."

I told the waiter, "You tell him I'll come down." Then I let the piano player take the last number.

"Mr. King?" I said.

"Yes," he said.

"I'm Mr. Landry," I said. "Welcome to the Curtis Hotel."

"Well," he said. "I'm interested in recording your orchestra."

I said, "What?"

"We want to record your orchestra," he said.

I said, "Do you mean on His Master's Voice--Victor Recordings?"

"Yes," he said.

"Well, that's fine," I said. I was thinking that as long as he was putting me on, I would put him on.

He said, "When do you think you will be able to come to Camden, New Jersey?"

Well, you know me--I can put it on. I said, "We couldn't do it Societyuntil the last two weeks of May, when we have our vacation. We then go to the Interlachen Club, and we play there all summer. Then we have another two weeks of vacation, and then we come back to the Curtis." That wasn't true at all, but as long as he was putting me on, I wanted to let him have it.

He said, "Well, then we will figure on the last two weeks in May and the first two weeks in June." Historical

I said, "I'd be tickled to death to do it. All you have to do is send me a check for a thousand dollars, certified. We will need our railroad fares, our hotel accommodations, and our food. Then we'll be very glad to go to Camden, on our vacation." the Twin Cities Oral History Project "Well," he said. "You'll hear from me." Minnesota I said, "Thank you." And I came back and I told the fellows, and they roared. Jazz in "You mean that's what he told you?" they said.

"Yes, and do you know what I told him?" So I told them our conditions.

"Oh, that's good, Art," they said. "That'll teach him."

Well, we forgot about it. Don't you know--late in May, I was going by the office in the Curtis Hotel and the clerk said, "There's something here special delivery for you, Mr. Landry."

I walked over, and I picked up the envelope. There, over in the corner, was a little dog listening to a phonograph. I was dumbfounded.

"This can't be," I thought to myself. "How far will these guys go? How would they get an envelope like that with the logo on it?"

So I opened it up, and sure enough, there was a check, certified, for a thousand dollars. There was our railroad fare, our hotel accommodations and taxi, and food service in the hotel. Well, I couldn't wait for six o'clock. The boys always came in fifteen minutes to half an hour early, and they were sitting in the kitchen, tuning up.

I told them about it, and they looked at me like I was crazy.

I said, "Well, look at the check."

The piano player said, "Gee, that's a certified check, Mr. Landry."

"Yes, it is," I said. "And here, look at the tickets." Society One guy said, "I'm married. I can't go. I can't leave town--I play in the symphony."

That was the horn player. He played saxophone and flugelhorn--you can hear on the record.

I said, "Well, if you don't want to go, it is very easy for me to say we're not able to go-- that we have taken another engagement. We'llHistorical forget about it . If you want to stay here and be small time, stay here and be small time. I'll find somebody else who will go, because I'm going to Camden. If you want to stay here and starve to death, you can do it."

They said, "Well, can we sit on it overnight and talk it over?" the Twin Cities Oral History Project "Sure," I said. "Talk it over with your wives." Minnesota Some of them had kids, you know--little kids, little babies. The next day when they came back,Jazz they all agreedin to go. So we went, and we made the records.

CW: What were the records that you made?

AL: Well, I'll tell you what I did. When Eddie King had talked to me, he had told me that they wanted to make novelty records. You never heard of novelty records? They were dance records. You see, Victor was in competition with Genette. All these other companies were recording dance bands and everything else. Victor wanted to get into the business, but they couldn't afford it in terms of prestige. They didn't want to let the prestige slip, so Victor called them novelty records. I have one of their ads, "Do you want

to dance? Dance with Victor Recordings." I have it on screen, and when I show it, people laugh. My God, can you imagine calling them novelty records? Anyway, we recorded "Rip Saw Blues."

CW: And "Three O’clock in the Morning?"

AL: Yes, "Three O’clock in the Morning"--that was a classic. Also, "Five Foot Two, Eyes of Blue," "Sleepy Time Gal"--all of those, we made five recordings. These had all been rehearsed, because we were playing them already. We just went in there and knocked them all off in two hours and started back the next day.

CW: Do you remember the size of the recording studio?

AL: Oh, do I remember! It was all black, with no windows. They had big horns and wax records. No microphones.

CW: Masters?

AL: Masters, yes. I sat right up in the horn. A violin was absolutely essential and very, hard to control. Drums were out, bass was out. Their low vibrationSociety was too slow and would kill it, you see. So I had made all the arrangements to conform to the recording equipment they had, because I got all the information on it before I went. I had been making records, unknown to Victor, with Genette.

CW: Oh, for heaven's sake. Before this? Historical AL: Yes, I've got Genette records right here. I've got quite a few of them. Then we did "The Covered Wagon." That was in the picture, and we did it for Genette. Anyway, the records came out, and by gosh, did they sell. Wow!

Anyway, before I leftthe I called Twin up that Cities news boy andOral told himHistory that we were Project going to record for Victor. Minnesota "What!" he said. "Art, you're not in the service anymore. Why don't you grow up?"

I said,Jazz "If you don'tin believe it, it's all right. I have a contract, and I thought you'd like to know, since you did such a good job on me a little while ago. I thought maybe you'd like to put this in your column."

"That'll be the day," he said.

"Okay," I said. "God bless you," and I put the phone down.

We didn't open up at the Curtis until September and these records were out by then. At High Squires Music on Nicollet, they had big ads with my picture on them. I want to tell

10 you--if you don't think I didn't come back home with a band and all the boys, you've got another guess coming. Sure enough, we played out at the Interlachen and then we came right back to the Curtis. What I had told Eddie King had come true. If they had written the script, they couldn't have done it any better.

So I called this news boy up. I said, "I've been wondering how long it will take to make a believer out of you."

"Art," he said, "you've got a good recording. I've heard some of the records, and they are pretty darn good."

"Am I still desecrating the classics?"

He said, "Well, I couldn't see it at first. At the very outset, I thought you were infringing on the classics, and I didn't like it."

"Well, I said.”I guess you are the only one. Everybody else evidently liked it. Thank you for the boost." I put down the phone and never heard from him again.

That's how we started. That was our first run. We were at the CurtisSociety maybe another year. Then I heard from a man named Tink Humphreys. He was the manager of the Orpheum circuit from Chicago to Los Angeles. The King circuit was from Chicago to New York. That's why they called the company Keith's Orpheum. They had two entities. Mr. Keith, Mr. Albee, and Mr. Proctor bought the franchise on 42nd Street from Oscar Hammerstein, the first of the vaudeville producers, for $250,000. They built the Palace. I have a copy of the Variety Review, with headlines on the front page, "Two Dollar Vaudeville A Bomb." It showed where theyHistorical paid $1,500 for one week's advertising in the New York paper, a full page ad and everything else. I've got a program with Ed Wynn on it and all the other people.

When I got to New York, the thing to do was to boost our record. They wanted us to go on the road and play.the They Twin didn't want Cities us to stop Oral any place History too long. Anyway, Project we got a chance to play the Palace, because we knew Tink Humphreys in Chicago. He brought us in because he had heardMinnesota us at the Curtis.

CW:Jazz Was your in group still called the Sextet at that time?

AL: Yes, we were still Art Landry's Sextet. In the meantime, we went on WLAG, "The Call of the North" radio. I used to go on the air after I got through at night. I would say, "This is the old night owl. Phone in or send us a penny post card with your request, and we'll play it for you. We don't care if it's opera or jazz or musical comedy."

CW: In other words, you picked up on the name of radio station WLAG, "The Call of the North," and started calling yourself "Art Landry's Call of the North."

AL: Yes, I had "The Call of the North Orchestra" and started using that name. As you can see on that program, I wrote "Dreamy Melody." The band is pictured on the front page. Do you know that just last week, a man from Minneapolis found that program? His name is Harry Falk, and he sent me a copy when he found out that I was living here in Nokomis.

From then on, we played the Majestic, which was the class house. The Palace in Chicago was not the class house. And I was billed over Valeska Surret, the great dramatic actress. She was boiling, because she was the biggest legitimate attraction at that time. She headlined wherever she went. She packed them in, but she had to sit with me--Art Landry and His Sextet, The Call of the North Orchestra.

CW: What year was this?

AL: This is getting into the year 1922.

CW: And big bands were prominent...

AL: ...Yes, after that. Society CW: And when you performed on stage, would you have acts with you?

AL: No, sir. We brought the finest musicians--we contracted with the best of them. I was the first fool to ever put a band together as an orchestra. We had strings--it wasn't a band then. We didn't call it a band. That was an orchestra, as you can see from the front page of the program there. It was always consideredHistorical an orchestra. The only reason it was called a band was that the word "orchestra" was too long for the marquee. So some stagehand decided to put up the word "band." The first time I walked down the street and saw "Art Landry and His Call of the North Band," I pretty nearly died. We had a quartet there--we had fellows who played guitars and banjos. Everybody in the band played at least three instruments. the Twin Cities Oral History Project

CW: Tell me a little bitMinnesota more about your band . Did you memorize your programs? Did you have music on the stage?

AL: Jazz From the in time I started until I retired in 1942, this band never had a sheet of music on the stage. We played for Al Jolson and Bill "Bojangles" Robinson and all of them. We backed the greatest--the finest singers and dancers. Sooner or later, we had to play for them, because they all played vaudeville. We came along at a time when we were the only ones. We had good musicians from Minneapolis. They were legitimate musicians--they weren't jazz hounds. I had three fellows in there who could arrange.

CW: How many of them were originally from Minneapolis?

AL: The first band was all from Minneapolis. Everyone in The Call of the North Orchestra was from Minneapolis. I didn't change any of the men for about--oh, I guess it was four or five years. Then some of them wanted--oh, I'll tell you what happened.

We had a dry spell. The theatres at that time closed for July and August, because they had no cooling systems. It was kind of rough, see? Here we were in New York for four weeks without work. So the boys got together and came up to my hotel room. They said, "Art, we want to talk something over."

"Fine," I said.

"Look," they said. "It's the middle of the summer. We can't stay here and pay these prices. We'll starve to death."

I said, "What do you want to do?"

"Well," they said. "If you don't mind, we would like to go home."

I said, "Okay--that's fine and dandy." Society So I went down and got their fares, and they all left. I stayed on at the hotel. I was sorry to see them go. It was a sad night. We all went out to a place where you put a nickel in for coffee--the Automat. We had our five-cent coffee and everything. We had a nice evening, and we were all sorry because we all liked each other. Up to that time, it was great for them, but they just couldn't stand two months of not working, and that's what the future looked like. So I called it a night and went back to my hotel and stayed there. Historical Two days after they left, my phone rang. "Is this Art Landry? My name is Bill Billingsley." He had a very famous last name--he was a well-known booker for Ziegfield. "I'd like to talk to you about playing in the Follies. There is a new show this year called the Main Street Follies--would you be interested?" the Twin Cities Oral History Project For a minute, I thought to myself, "I don't have an orchestra." But I said, "Yes, I would like to talk with you. I'llMinnesota come over and see you."

I don'tJazz have to intell you that Mr. Ziegfield was tight with the dollar. By that time, we were getting pretty good money. We were paid the highest prices musicians had ever heard of-- the highest price ever paid for an act in vaudeville. We had played the Palace, and instead of being there for two weeks, we were held over for nine. That was unheard of.

All the bookers were in the Bond Building in downtown New York. I went down there and said, "What can I do for you?"

He said, "Well, I've been talking with Mr. Ziegfield about the Main Street Follies. You know he's never had a band. He goes for women--he doesn't go for music."

I said, "No? Well, he doesn't know what he's missing." I had a lot of push--I never backed off anybody. I would always go for the gag. "If he can afford to pay me, I'll play for him."

"Well," he said. "How much do you want?"

I said, "I want $3,000 a week."

And he looked at me and said, "Are you out of your mind? Al Jolson doesn't get that."

I said, "I don't give a damn about Al Jolson, or Fanny Brice, or Georgie Jessel, or anybody else. I don't care who he has."

At the time, Ziegfield had Fannie Ward, the perennial flapper. She was a flapper when she was sixty years old, and you couldn't tell the difference. She was one of the greatest stars of all time, and she got $2,000 a week. "If one person can get $2,000, surely a whole band, including me, should be able to get that much money. If he doesn't want it, he can forget it." Society I didn't wait for an answer. I said goodbye, and I walked out. I didn't have an orchestra, so I wasn't taking any chances. [Laughs] Two days went by, and in the meantime, I hadn't paid my rent. Of course, we had lived at the hotel right along, and we always paid up. The last month I hadn't paid because I wanted money to go out and eat and put up a front.

Anyway, the guy called me up and said, "Look, Art, you haven't paid your bills in the whole month." Historical

"That's true," I said. "We are going to be working very shortly again."

He said, "Well, the boss tells me that unless you pay this week, I'm going to have to take your keys." the Twin Cities Oral History Project

"If your boss feels that Minnesotaway," I said, "that's fine. If he doesn't have confidence in me after what he has seen--well, that's too bad, he is going to lose. My orchestra and I will never stay hereJazz again." in

He said, "It's not up to me."

Two days later, the booker called me and said, "Art, I've got an offer for you."

I said, "I don't listen to offers. I'll tell you what I want and what I have to have. If I don't have it, you can forget it."

"Don't you want to hear it?" he said.

"Nope," I said, and I banged down the telephone.

The next morning he called up and said, "Art, I got you the deal you wanted."

I said, "Isn't that nice? The reason you got it is because old Ziegfield found out that he couldn't get us for peanuts."

So I went down and signed the contract. But I haven't got a musician, see, and it's already August. In four or five weeks, I've got to have an orchestra with a whole new act and everything else.

Well, I knew a man who was in his sixties, George Alabama Florida. Now that's a name, isn't it? He was the advance man for the Ed Wynn show and all those other big shows that were on the road. He was out of work. I met him at the Automat.

I said, "Hello, George."

He talked like W.C. Fields. "Artie," he said. "How are you?" Society "I'm fine," I said.

He said, "You are, are you?"

"Yes, I am," I said. "Are you working?"

He said, "Hell, no. I'm starving to death." Historical

"Would you like to go to work with me?" I said.

He said, "When would you like me to start?" the Twin Cities Oral History Project "I want you to start right away," I said. Minnesota "How much?" Jazz in I said, "$200 a week."

"Two hundred a week?" he said. "You're damn right I'll work for $200 a week."

I knew that he was one hell of a man. I knew that he usually got more than that, but I took the chance that he might take it. I didn't have any money to throw away, either. So I said, "Now, we are going to need publicity, and I'm going with Ziegfield."

"What?" he said.

I said, "I'm going with Ziegfield--I'm going with Main Street Follies."

"Are you sober?" he said.

"Listen," I said. "I'll show you the contract. I'll have it in a couple of days."

Sure enough a few days later, I showed him the contract.

"I'll be damned," he said. "That's fine."

I said, "I want you to do the publicity. I'm going to get a lot of publicity, but I want a part for my band. I want you to go to work on that."

So he did, and we opened up with Main Street Follies. It was one hell of a good show.

CW: Tell me a little about it.

AL: Well, they had the Billingsleys, who had a great family act. They had the most beautiful women, and the most beautiful scenery. I have a pictureSociety of it. I'm going to show you our set that he made for us. It's a gorgeous thing. Before that, my band and everybody filled the whole stage, and they were like sardines. People would come in, and when the curtain would go up, they would just applaud to see what was there.

CW: Were you on a platform?

AL: No. Bands were not elevated on a platformHistorical because of the scenery behind them. If we put platforms up there, you would have to have a guy on one for twenty or twenty-five minutes. Nobody stayed on over fifteen or eighteen minutes at most--and that's including encores. They were smart. They wouldn't let anything go, no matter how good it was. It would only go so far.the They Twin wanted theCities audience Oral to want Historymore out of every Project act that appeared. So we played on the ground, but we had them placed like this so you could see them. The theatre was upMinnesota like this, you see, and the only ones who didn't have a platform hill was the first four or five rows downstairs.

Anyway,Jazz we played in there. By gosh, I want to tell you something, if you don't think that the orchestra really got them, you have another guess coming. It was the hit of the show, and they had the greatest stars.

CW: Did you open with the band?

AL: Oh, no. I wouldn't open up a show for anybody. I wouldn't care who it was. We opened the second half after intermission.

CW: There was a pit orchestra, then.

AL: Oh, yes, and they were a good one, too. You know, they were wondering what we were going to do. The competition was on, you see. They were afraid of stage bands. They were always wondering what our choice of music would be. I opened up with Liszt's "Second Hungarian Rhapsody." [Humming music] There's the brass in there, you know. I wanted to wake them up. Do you know what the conductor of the pit orchestra did? He went out and got an opener that was just as big and maybe even better. Well, I was always prepared. I said to the boys, "That will be enough."

"That will be enough?" the musicians said.

"I'm not going to interfere with this guy," I said. "Let him put on the brass."

The curtain went up very, very, slowly. When the audience saw the band and the sets-- holy Toledo, the audience broke with applause because it was just beautiful. And you could hear the rhythm and the melody because the music was so soft. The next show, he sat down and didn't play at all, so we played loudly--da, da, da. This competition went on week after week and on the road, too. It was fantastic. We were having a good time now because we rehearsed every day. Society CW: Was this orchestra made up of Minnesota boys?

AL: No, no. I went up to Union 802 in New York. Everybody knew who I was. I told them I was putting together a band locally. I went to the union president and told him, "Now, I know you don't like musicians coming in here from out of town, so I'm going to organize my New York orchestra. I'd like to put up a notice down here." Historical He said, "I'll be delighted."

He called a guy out to put up my notice, and within two days, I had my pick of the finest musicians in New York.the I Twinweeded them Cities out. My Oral first solo History saxophone player Project had been with John Phillips Sousa. He played saxophone, and I want to tell you something, he really played solo clarinet,Minnesota too. All of them were like that. I had my choice of the best. Once I had fifty-seven musicians waiting overnight to audition. So I auditioned them on stage in the morning. Jazz in CW: What theatre were you in?

AL: The Broadway Theatre. We could only rehearse there so long. The dancers and everybody else had the stage all afternoon, but I could get in there in the morning. The musicians didn't like it. I also made a point that there would be no music on stage. A lot of them said, "What do you mean--there isn't going to be any music?"

I said, "We do not use stands. If you can't memorize, forget it. Say so now."

CW: That eliminated some of them, didn't it?

AL: Just two. I replaced them. I had told them when I hired them, if you can't memorize, you're out of luck. So we memorized the whole stage show.

CW: You directed with your bow?

AL: Yes, my violin bow.

CW: You were not doing any master of ceremonies in that show?

AL: Only for my own. I would introduce the trumpet and trombone players. The trombone player would stand up. Some of the boys may remember him from Minneapolis--Boyce Cullen, one of the greatest trombone players of all time. "The B" would put his trombone over there, and I would say, "Ladies and gentlemen...."

Cullen played the "B" without moving the slide, and we featured that on our show. I had heard him one day when he was playing the trombone downstairs. He hardly moved the slide--he did it all with his lips. Boy, I thought to myself. So I made an arrangement for him. Society

CW: Was he from Minneapolis?

AL: Yes, originally, he was, but he had left and gone to New York. I was glad to get him because I knew who he was. So when I heard him playing, I said, "Would you like to play that as a solo?" Historical

He said, "I don't mind."

"Well," I said, "I'll make an arrangement." the Twin Cities Oral History Project I was noted for making arrangements for those who stand in front of my band. All I did was go "bum, bum, bum..."Minnesota [Humming] Then that's all he did. His slide only moved a few inches. When he got a few seconds into it, the people would start to applaud. They had never heard anything like this in their lives. I had other guys--like the horn or the saxophoneJazz player in-- who would step out.

One day for an encore I did something that floored everybody in New York. I said, "Ladies and gentlemen, we've been having a lot of fun with popular and semi-classical music. I'd like to be serious for a moment and play a number that I'm sure you're all familiar with."

I quietly turned to the boys and said, "Ailee, Ailee."

I put up my hand like this and they went, "Bum..." [Humming music] and I played that number, and the orchestra was marvelous behind me. Of course it was very familiar to the Jewish people and nobody had ever dared to do that in vaudeville before. We had done so many encores, and knowing we had a predominantly Jewish audience I thought, "Well, let's play 'Ailee, Ailee'. They'll enjoy that."

And it was far and away from what we had just been playing--"Saint Louis Blues," and so on. When I got down to the low parts, I could actually hear the audience breathing. And I thought to myself, "Boy, have I got these people pegged!"

When I got through, you never heard such a standing ovation. To think this Irishman would have the audacity to play "Ailee, Ailee" in New York City! The audience was marvelous.

George Alabama Florida said to me, "What was that you played?" He had never heard of it. [Laughs] He had never heard of it--he didn't know what it was.

CW: What did George do in terms of public relations?

AL: This fellow had more gimmicks than anybody you ever saw.Society What I had planned was to go out on the road and cash in. At that time, Ed Wynn and all those fellows would go on the road after they played their shows in New York, and they would clean up. So I thought to myself, "I want to get the cash in first."

We played all the way to California and back again, barnstorming.

CW: Was this in 1923 or 1924? Historical

AL: This was in 1924.

CW: By that time,the the theatre Twin presentation Cities was Oral strong, andHistory you would Projectbe the headliner.

AL: That's right. Minnesota

CW: But you would have acts with you? Jazz in AL: By this time, I had gotten in the booking business. I had opened up my booking office for bands and acts. At one time, I had seventeen bands working out of New York-- good name bands.

CW: Lots of musicians?

AL: Oh, yes. They would come in as a whole band. They would come and say that they wanted us to book them.

CW: This would be for what?

AL: For hotels, for anything that would come up.

CW: Pavilions?

AL: Yes, for pavilions on the road, for one-nighters, for everything. That's why I opened up the office, because I didn't want to pay all this. You see, we had to pay six percent to the local union, four percent to the master union, and then another seven or eight percent or even ten percent to the booker. What the heck--that was right off the gravy, right off the top. I had a big net here. I was paying higher than scale. To get these guys on the road and to get the best, I became the instrument for that.

CW: Tell me a little bit about the many bands you booked.

AL: Do you know Ted Mack? He was with me. He got a band, so I booked him. I booked Ted Mack into the Paramount Hotel in New York. He became the replacement to Major Bowes on the "Amateur Hour." I had Darrow Barber, who was with the New York society bands for years. He was my bass player. I had Jimmy Curtis, the singer. He made records for OK Recordings and for other people. He went out Societyand did pretty well. Oh, I had a lot of people. I had a lot of society bookings, because of the class of our orchestra. They were always neat--they were always gentlemen. We had very strict rules.

CW: Tell me about them.

AL: First, nobody in my orchestra in the FolliesHistorical could stay with the band if he went out with a chorus girl. If they had anything to do with the other acts, that was it. Drinking was out. You could not come to that stage polluted. I don't care if you only had three beers. Every man had to go by George Alabama Florida, and he had a nose. They finally realized this. the Twin Cities Oral History Project I told them, "I'm paying you big money. It's my reputation that is at stake, not yours. These are the rules." Minnesota

One man challenged it by going to the union. They called me up, and I went before the union.Jazz They said, in "We understand that you have certain rules that are not proper, that interfere with people's rights."

I said, "Look, I have these rules for my own protection, as well as the protection of the orchestra. We are gifted artists, not jazz hounds. We have the finest musicians in the country, and nobody is going to upset that. I don't care who they are."

CW: Who was the president then--Webber?

AL: Yes, Webber was the president of the national American Musicians Union. They brought me in front of the national union. I explained my rules to them.

I said, "My musicians are told when they come in that they cannot bring liquor into the theatre. I will not put up with it. Now if you want to go out and have a couple of beers someplace, that's your own damn business. But don't ever come into the theatre with it. If you want to work here, that's what you've got to do." Of course, I had a reputation, I admit it. I was pretty stiff.

On the other hand, the boys in the orchestra had been getting thirty-four or forty-eight dollars to play Bach and Beethoven. You could play this stuff in the Follies three times and you would know it. It was easy compared to classical music, and the money was nearly twice as much. I would say that at the time when most road men were getting sixty to sixty-five dollars a week, I was paying $125. Of course, I would go into a big auditorium or armory and pack in 2,000 people at a dollar and a-half a piece. I'm telling you something, that's what we would do. Otherwise, I could not have afforded to pay so much.

CW: Tell me a little about the stage presentation. Society AL: The last time I played the Palace, the Hippodrome, and Radio City, the money had gone up. I was asking for $20,000 a week. But look at what I was paying. I had musicians who were getting $500 a week. I had a drummer who was making between $2,000 and $2,100 a week. We had so much work--radio, theatre, nightclubs. I was a workaholic. And the boys didn't give a damn because they were making more money than they ever thought was in the whole world, and so was I. Historical I had told them, "If you don't want to work, this is not the place. There is a list of men who want to work for me--I've got nineteen trombone players who are the best in the business who want to be here." the Twin Cities Oral History Project Anyway, Mr. [Edward F.] Albee said, "You are getting too expensive for me." Mr. Albee was booker and generalMinnesota manager of the Keith Orpheum in New York City and also booked the Palace.

And JazzI agreed within him. "Mr. Albee, I know this is a lot of money."

CW: This was Mr. Albee of Keith-Albee Circuit that became RCA?

AL: Yes, he was in full charge of the Keith-Albee Circuit. They had the RCA Radio Station, which had 4,200 seats. They could pay a headline act $20,000 or $50,000 a week and get away with it easily, see.

Did you know that the Rockettes were with us first? I have a program that shows the Rockettes on Broadway. When I first came to New York, I brought the idea from

California. I had been out to California and back again, and I said that the Rockettes were it. They were with me at the Hippodrome, and when the Hippodrome closed, they went to Radio City. They've been there ever since. It's a wonderful place.

Getting back to my presentation, I knew that vaudeville was at the end of its rope. They could not pay us the prices that we had to have because Public, Capitol, Paramount, and Roseland Ballroom were there. I played the Palace on Broadway, and four weeks after that, I headlined at the Roseland Ballroom. Four weeks after that, I headlined at the Capitol and then I headlined at the Paramount. You see they were all bidding for the name, because now there were four different places. The Public-Paramount Circuit went from coast to coast. There were big theatres in Saint Louis, Kansas City--they were building them all over the doggone country.

CW: What was it called in Minneapolis? The Public Paramount?

AL: Yes, Harold Bernstein's father owned it. I went to high school with Harold; he used to play on the football team with me. I went there to the Public for two weeks and was held over for fourteen.

CW: What year was that? Society

AL: Well, that was still the 1920s.

CW: It must have been 1928 or 1929.

AL: Yes, it was around there. Of course, I haven'tHistorical been there since.

CW: Well, it's gone.

AL: I've heard that. Mr. Joe Smith, formerly of the Minneapolis Symphony, told me that. I also played the Lyceum,the Twinand now that'sCities gone. TheOral Curtis History is gone, the LeamingtonProject is gone. The only thing that isn't gone is the old maestro himself. Minnesota CW: Getting back to your stage presentation...

AL: Jazz ...Well, Haroldin B. Franklin was president of the Paramount at the time. I knew him. Boris Morris was his vice president, so I went to see him. Boris said, "Mr. Franklin wants to talk with you."

I said, "What about?"

He said, "Well, I don't know, but why don't you come up and see him."

So I went to Mr. Franklin's office.

Mr. Franklin said, "Art, how would you like to play the Paramount?"

I said, "Can you afford to pay the kind of money we get?"

"How much are you going to have to have?" he said.

"Well," I said, "we've got to have so much."

He said, "That's a lot of money. Do you do the whole show?"

"Of course," I said.

So I put together a plan to give Mr. Franklin an idea of what everything was going to cost. He said, "By the way, you probably have more experience than any other guy in the business. Do you know anything about a minstrel show?"

Well, I didn't know anything. But I never said "no" to anything, so I said, "Do I know? I know."

George Alabama Florida's father used to have the original minstrelSociety show, the George Alabama Florida Minstrels. George used to sit with me and tell me these cockamanie jokes.

"Lucy?"

"Yes, Mr. Bones." Historical "Can you tell me what man in the army wears the biggest hat?

"Of course I can. It's the colonel."

"Wrong." the Twin Cities Oral History Project

"What do you mean I'mMinnesota wrong?"

"YouJazz are so wrong. in It's the man with the biggest head."

George used to tell me these jokes, and I would look at him and think to myself, "Does he really think this is funny?"

So I called George up and said, "Why don't you come over to the hotel? I've got to submit an idea to Public. We're going to go on the Public Circuit from New York to California and back again."

He said, "What? That's fine. I'll be right over."

So he came over, and I asked him, "Do you know anything about minstrels?"

He looked at me strangely when I asked him that question.

"Did I tell you that my father owned the George Alabama Florida Minstrels?"

"Well," I said, "I think you did."

I had a way of straight-facing those guys. By doing that, I got their attention.

"I've got a show to put together within three weeks."

"Oh, that's easy," he said.

We laid the whole thing out. We had Ray Bolger, Bill Robinson, the Whistler, and the Old-Fashioned Quartet, and I put this whole dang thing together. It ran forty-five minutes, and it was the greatest minstrel show you ever saw in your life.

We had to audition, because Mr. Franklin had told me, "You knowSociety I've got to see this, Art."

I said, "I'll be ready for you."

So when we were finished, I called him up and said, "Harold, we're ready. When can we audition for you? Historical "Can you come tomorrow morning on the stage of the Paramount?" he said.

I said, "Yes, we'll be glad to do it then. But you have to supply all the stands."

We had to have stands,the because Twin these Cities were big theatresOral. TheseHistory were not Project vaudeville ho uses with 1,400 seats. These had 2,800 or 3,000, or more. Minnesota "All right. What do you want?" he said. Jazz in So I got a hold of George Alabama Florida and said, "What do we want?"

He told me, "You want your basses up there, and you want your brass up there, just like a minstrel show."

"Is that the way?" I said.

"Yes," he said, "that's the way to do it."

So we made the sketches and sent them down to the Paramount. Sure enough, when we went down the stands were all up. They were covered with the design we had ordered-- black-and-white and blue-and-white stripes. Fantastic, you know. Then we had a big skirt on the back with a paddle wheel. That's the way we had wanted it, and that's the way they had it.

When the show was over, Mr. Franklin said, "That's the greatest show I've ever seen. That will kill them. It was marvelous."

I said, "Thank you. When do we start?"

"In two weeks," he said.

So we started, and we traveled coast to coast. We went down the Mississippi to Saint Louis and way down to New Orleans. And if you don't think they didn't eat up our minstrel show, you have another guess coming. It was wonderful. When I played Cincinnati at the Keith-Albee Theatre, it was brand new then. We went in there, and people just loved it. It was there that I met Captain Lemke of the Mississippi Show Boat.

CW: Yes, I remember him. Society

AL: One day, I saw this guy standing there, and I said, "Who is the guy there with all the stripes and everything?"

"Captain Lemke," they told me.

I said, "Captain Lemke of the Show Boat?" Historical

"Yes," they said. "He's waiting for you outside."

"Bring him in," I said.the Twin Cities Oral History Project

So he came in and said, "My name is..." Minnesota I said, "I know who you are." Jazz in "I know who you are, too," he said.

I said, "You do?"

"Yes," he said, "I have come to see you. I have heard a lot about you. I saw your show, and you have to play my boat."

I said, "What do you mean--`your boat'?"

He said, "I am Captain Lemke of the Mississippi Show Boat, the greatest show boat on the Mississippi."

"It is?" I said.

"Yes, it is." he said. "You know that I can't pay you what you get here, but next winter, I want you to take this show that you've got here on my boat."

I said, "Do you have any idea what this is going to cost?"

"No," he said. "But I'd like to have the show. I can promise you that you will have the best time in your life. You'll have a private room on the boat, you'll get your meals and everything else. All you have to do is do the show one day and one night."

"Well, I said, "I'll have to take it up with the boys."

So I did. I asked them, "Do you want to lay off? We are going to be laid off, you know. Do you want to lay off, or do you want to take a pretty ride down the Mississippi?"

Well, it was unanimous. We went on the Mississippi. We wentSociety from Cincinnati all the way down to New Orleans on Captain Lemke's show boat. We came into those towns with big signs, "Art Landry and His Minstrels." [Making sound of a boat whistle]

CW: Did you usually travel by train?

AL: Yes, and I'll tell you what I did. When I was playing, I got tired of sitting in cold stations with the lights turned down after weHistorical got through with the show, waiting for a train that didn't leave the station until three or four in the morning. So I went to an auction sale in Milwaukee. In those days the Depression was coming, and all of the presidents of these big firms were selling their private cars. There were about a dozen private cars that they were selling. the Twin Cities Oral History Project

George had said to me, "I think we should go to Milwaukee." Minnesota "Why should we go to Milwaukee?" I said. Jazz in He said, "Because they are selling off private cars."

"Railroad cars?" I said. "Why in the world would I want a railroad car?"

He said, "Look. If you buy them, they will keep them up for you. You will get a special service in the station. You can leave your theatre and go right to your private car. You don't have to stay in the station when it's cold, when the lights are down for three hours, somewhere in the sticks."

"My goodness," I said. "That's an idea. What do you think they are going for?"

He said, "I don't know, but if it's too high, you don't have to buy them."

So we went off to Milwaukee. The darn auction started off at $3,000...$3,500...$4,000...$4,500.... Then it started to slow down, because money was tight. Well, I was making money. So all of a sudden I said, "$5,000."

The auctioneer said, "We're not going to argue with you. We'll let you have the damn thing--there are a lot of them." So I got my first car, and then I got my second car. I've got pictures of them.

The car was immense. I'll bet you it cost them a good $20,000 or $25,000 to make.

CW: Was it in good condition?

AL: Oh, yes. Not only that, but George made a deal with them. In every station we pulled into, they put us on Track Eight or Nine, with a guard there, so the public couldn't get on the train. Of course, we also had Big John with us. He was a Pullman man, furnished to us by the Pullman Company. I paid his salary, of course. Society

I had a living room and bedroom in my car. I took the bar out because of Prohibition. I didn't want people coming in to inspect it every time we played somewhere, hoping to find a beer or something.

Then I was introduced to a man named Murphy. I said, "Are you a carpenter? Historical He said, "Yes."

I said, "They tell me you can make a bed." the Twin Cities Oral History Project "Yes," he said. "It disappears into the wall."

I said, "It does? You can'tMinnesota see it at all?"

"No,Jazz sir," he said. in

So he made me one of the first Murphy beds. [Laughs] When you lifted it up, it looked just like a bookcase.

I used to go in and out of my living quarters. Big John had a galley in my parlor. He was six-foot-three and there wasn't an inch of fat on the guy. He was a nice looking black man, with salt-and-pepper hair. He was something to behold--he was so meticulous. He kept that car cleaner than anything you have ever seen. That's all he did.

Then I got a second car, a Pullman. The boys slept in the upper berths, and the uppers were made up every day when they went out. They had a galley there in the back, too. We had a man there who would get them their breakfasts, and they paid for that. So they could sit in their Pullman with all this extra room. You could put a lot of people in there, you know--it had twenty-four bunks. The electricians and stage hands and George Alabama and everybody else would sit there and play cards and enjoy life.

CW: So you had a car all to yourself?

AL: Oh, yes, sure. It didn't cost us anything extra. All I had to do was buy the train tickets, since they would have had to furnish us the cars, anyway. We made a deal with them. We went all over the United States into Mexico and up into Canada. Everybody knew about our railroad cars. They even put gold letters on it, "Art Landry and His Minstrels." People wanted to see inside, so after we got off and the cars were cleaned, people were allowed to go through. It was a good promo.

Did we have fun! We went all the way to California, and we met all the great stars-- Douglas Fairbanks, Mary Pickford, all the big shots. Of course, I had met them and Charlie Chaplin when I played the Orpheum. Society CW: This was in the Twenties, when Hollywood was going strong?

AL: The town itself wasn't that big. They said that Hollywood would never amount to anything because it was too far from industry and the East Coast. It was all right for actors, who were making big money, but everybody else was making fourteen dollars a week. I can't believe that I've lived long enough to see the growth of the West Coast. When I first went to San Francisco, it was aHistorical town of about 175,000.

CW: You were playing stage presentations then?

AL: Yes, all the waythe. It wasTwin great becauseCities you Oralhad the wholeHistory year. Out Project there the theatres were open all the time. Minnesota CW: Tell me about some of the important acts you had on your program.

AL: Jazz We had whistlers,in bass singers, the best. I used to stay at the Astor Hotel in New York. All the big families stayed there, so I stayed there, too. At the time, bands were considered a challenge to vaudevillians. Up until we came along, a band never headlined. Music never headlined. Ed Wynn, Sophie Tucker--you name them--they were the headliners. Along came a guy like me who would headline over anybody.

I went over to the NVA--the National Vaudeville Association--to apply for membership. They thought it was a trick, and they refused me. They said, "You're not an actor, you're a musician. You belong in the musician's union. Go over there."

A whole year passed, and a new president of the association was elected. All the stars on Broadway were invited over to the NVA for a performance, because they had a nice stage and auditorium. I was asked to give a show there. Now the only ones who could play in the NVA auditorium were those who had headlined on Broadway.

When I received the invitation, I asked the guy, "Who asked me to come over?

He said, "What do you mean--who asked you?"

"Was it the president?" I asked.

"No," he said.

"I think you'd better find out," I said. "I don't think they want me."

So he went over and told the president. "Mr. Landry says he doesn't know whether he could play because he doesn't know if you want him."

"Oh," the president said. "He's the band man?" Society "Yes," he said.

"Well," the president said. "I'll let you know tomorrow."

They had a meeting of the board of directors, and they decided, what the hell, let him come in. Historical So I wrote a little story about vaudeville, with music behind it. The title was, "I Am Vaudeville." They didn't know what the hell I was going to do, but the place was full. I can guarantee you that they were hanging on the chandeliers because it was the first time that a musician was ever asked to play in vaudeville's house. So I started with my story. I told them who I was,the what Twin I did as aCities vaudevillian, Oral and so History on. When you Project hear the music, you will know why I got a standing ovation after the introduction. Then I played my regular show. It was a terrificMinnesota hit, and I finally was notified that I could join. A man who was the kind of showman I was should certainly be entitled to membership in the VaudevilleJazz Association. in

CW: Can you remember some of the acts that performed with you that night?

AL: I did the whole show, but Pat Rooney did the encore. I didn't hire anyone else, and I gave them an hour's show like they never had in their lives. It was over before they could say, "Jackrabbit," you know. I gave them the big Paramount finish, with "God Bless America" playing as the big flag went down. If you don't think those actors went for it, you have another guess coming. They were all wise to it, they all knew what I was doing, but they had to go along with it. I had nailed them to the cross. [Laughs] I always

accepted a challenge. I knew when I was being challenged, and I knew when I wasn't being challenged. I learned that early in the business, and I carried that into New York with me.

CW: Who was the most famous of the acts who played with you?

AL: That I backed up with music? Al Jolson. I have tapes with him--I've got a tape of "California, Here I Come." He used to go out there and get down on one knee, you know.

He called me one day and said, "I want you to appear with me one week from next Sunday at the Winter Garden Theatre."

Years ago, you could have concerts on Sundays, but you couldn't have vaudeville. Vaudeville had dancing and slapstick, and they wouldn't put up with that on a Sunday.

"Well," I said. "I'll look at my schedule."

He said, "I already looked. You're open."

I didn't want to commit myself, so I said, "Well, I'll tell you whatSociety I'll do..."

"Come on," he said. "I want to know because I want to start publicizing it. I'd like to have you."

I said, "Well, listen Al, I don't want to put you on the spot, but I get a lot of money."

"I know it," he said. Historical

I said, "Do you know what I get?"

"Well, " he said. "I theknow youTwin get a lot.Cities I've heard Oral you get History a lot, but I would Project still like to have you there with me."

So I said, "Okay. You'veMinnesota got yourself a deal."

That Jazzfellow was in not afraid of anybody as far as performing was concerned. He would have Pat Rooney, who was a marvelous dancer--singers, comedians, whatever.

CW: Jugglers?

AL: Jugglers, anything that was a dumb act. But because this was a Sunday, it was just the orchestra and him. It was a two-hour show with a fifteen-minute intermission. It was hard work, but the place was jammed. They were all standing outside trying to get in, but it was standing room only.

There was a rule in the theatre that you had to start your encores at least five or ten minutes before the closing hour of eleven o'clock. The show had to be over by eleven o'clock because the theatre owners and operators didn't want to pay double time and a half to the musicians, crew, and actors. It was a big deal. So here we were, going along, and it was fifteen minutes to eleven. Jolson was still standing out there on stage, and he said to the audience, "What would you like to hear?"

And somebody said, "`Climb Upon My Knee.'"

"You've got it," he said.

He turned around to us, and of course the reason he was great with us was because we knew all the songs--we didn't have music.

CW: You knew the right key?

AL: We knew what the right keys were if they were anything different. He sang everything in the keys they were written in at that time. He was a standards man. He was really great. So he went out there, and it was a quarter to eleven, and he kept on singing. It got to be five minutes to eleven, and he came to me after a songSociety and said, "Do you want to go on?"

I said, "I don't care--as long as you want to sing, Al."

Eleven o'clock came, and then it was eleven-fifteen. By that time the manager was walking backstage, up and down, tearing his hair out. He was going crazy. Then Al says to the audience, "You haven't heard anythingHistorical yet."

It was eleven-thirty, eleven forty-five, and the manager is back there fit to be tied. He's ready to go to the hootennnay. the Twin Cities Oral History Project Finally, Jolson begs off at twelve o'clock. That guy did fifteen encores. Now, I never in all my life saw a fellow who could go out and sing that many songs and survive. He was one heck of a guy. Minnesota

He said,Jazz "I'm tickledin to death that you like it, but I'm getting tired. I hope you will excuse me. Please see me next week."

The curtain went down, and Jolson went backstage. The manager was ready to kill him. He said, "I want to tell you..."

Jolson said, "Just a minute. This isn't going to cost you a dime. I'm going to pay them."

The manager looked at him absolutely dumbstruck. He had gone through all this for an hour, and now this guy comes out and says that it isn't going to cost him. He said, "Okay, if you are going to pay them, I don't give a damn." And he walked away.

Jolson said to the stage manager, "How much do I owe you and your men?"

He called his boy over to bring him his checkbook, and he just sat down and wrote out the checks and signed them.

Then he said, "Art?"

I said, "Al, I hate to do this to you, but you know the union says I've got to get..."

"Oh," he said. "That's all right. How much do I owe you?"

So I told him, and he didn't bat an eye. He gave everybody a check, and he said, "Thanks very much. You were marvelous tonight. I think it was one of the best nights I have ever had in the theatre."

Do you know what happened? Nobody cashed their checks. That'sSociety what they thought of this fellow. He was such a dedicated actor. He would sing until the stars came out, if you would listen.

CW: What was the most popular song he did?

AL: "Climb Upon My Knee, Sonny Boy"--oh, everybody loved that. And of course, "California, Here I Come"--the audience wouldHistorical start applauding right in the middle of the song. This guy was fantastic. We had some performers in those days. There is nothing like them today--the Eddie Cantors, the Georgie Jessels.

Of course, everybodythe was Twin making money Cities in those Oral days. EddieHistory King said Project to me one day, "Art, you're making quite a lot of money with your records and your royalties. Why don't you buy some Victor--His Master's Voice--stock? You've got everything else you need-- you're doing all right." Minnesota

I said,Jazz "Well, okay,in fine. How much do you think I ought to buy?"

"Well, " he said, "why don't you just take a certain percentage of your royalties in stock instead of money?"

"That's a good idea," I said.

So I talked with the financial people at Victor and they welcomed me in. I ended up with 700 shares of His Master's Voice stock. Some of the other people working at His Master's

Voice as managers and musicians also bought stock, along with Mr. King. There were about four or five of us who owned an awful lot of stock.

Then Joseph P. Kennedy came along with the big idea of consolidating. He was a big wheeler-dealer. When it came time to make a deal with RCA, we got together.

By this time, I was a pretty shrewd businessman. I said to them, "We've got to hold out. We are not going to let them have this stock. Let them get all the stock they want except ours, and then when the time comes, we will make a deal." So they all agreed.

When I met Joe Kennedy, he said, "Art, I'll give you two for one."

"I'm not interested in selling it, Mr. Kennedy. I'm satisfied with the way it is."

I refused his offer, so he walked away.

Well, then the crash came, and they wouldn't give you twenty cents for the stock. Our stock went down to nine dollars.

The fellows got together with me and said, "What are you goingSociety to do?"

"I'm going to hang onto it," I said. "We can make records. We have Paul Whiteman, we have Fred Waring, we have the greatest artists in the country. People are not going to stop living just because the stock market is down. We don't need the money."

Well, the damn banks closed. My bank, City Bank of New York, closed with a bang, too- -went out of business. We lost our neck--I thinkHistorical we got ten cents on the dollar. Oh, but I didn't panic. My wife and I sat down, and I said, "Dear, we're crashed, we're out."

"We are?" she said.

"Yes," I said. "But theyou know, Twin I'll tell Cities you something. Oral We History still can go out Project and make money. I still know how to maestro, I still know how to make money. I'm not going to let anybody know that we Minnesotalost a dime. We are going to keep it to ourselves."

She said,Jazz "I think in that's a good idea."

So when they talked to me about "The Crash," I would say, "What crash?"

I would clown around about it. I would pretend it didn't bother me any--so you lost a million, so what. That's the way to talk, you know. But I'm going to tell you something, if you don't think I was hurting, you got another guess coming. I read the handwriting on the wall. But when they offered me nine dollars a share, I thought to myself, "I'll starve to death before I sell my RCA stock for that."

So I'll tell you what we did. We went out and barnstormed. We went out into the armories and let people in for a dollar a piece. You and your girl could get in for two dollars. The girls were working at jobs getting twelve cents an hour, but service people were not hurting as much. We would get 1,500 or 2,000 people in an armory, and if you don't think we were making money, you have another guess coming. It was hard work--it was a different town every night. George Alabama Florida was one guy who knew the sticks. Sometimes the towns were only a few miles from each other--maybe fifty, maybe seventy-five, maybe a hundred miles apart. We went through New York--from Albany to Schenectady to Troy to Rochester. The towns weren't that far apart--we could make it in a bus overnight. And boy, don't you know that we were making $5,000 or $6,000 or $7,000 a week? But we earned every cent. Sometimes when I went on the platform, I could hardly keep my eyes open because I had been driving all night. But I stayed with it.

The hotels kept their orchestras in the dining rooms. I could show you places where, for a dollar and a half, you could get dinner with a fifteen-piece orchestra. During the Depression, prices came down. I played the Hippodrome during the Depression and made more money than they ever took in their blooming lives. I started four shows a day. We called it the "Milkman's Matinee" at eleven o'clock in the morning. People would be going to look for work, and by ten or ten-thirty, they had already gotten their "no." The "nos" went this way and that, but I'll tell you something, you couldSociety go to the Hippodrome at eleven o'clock in the morning and for fifty cents you could sit in the fourth balcony, up on top, and see a whole show. It was seventy-five cents for the next balcony, a dollar for the mezzanine, and a dollar and a-half for the orchestra seats. They were lined up outside, because they could all get fifty cents. They were on relief, they had to have something, and here they could spend two hours for just fifty cents and really enjoy themselves. So they did. Historical Do you know how much money we took in the first week that we played at the famous Hippodrome Theatre during the Depression? It was $125,000. They were lined up all around the block. Of course, the prices at night went up. The people who had money went anyway. the Twin Cities Oral History Project It was a funny thing--when I talked to Albee, he asked me how much I wanted. I told him $20,000 a week. Minnesota

"You'reJazz out of inyour cotton-picking mind, you know," he said.

"Well,” I said, "If you think so...But I'm used to playing on a percentage. I do that all through the year. I knock off a lot of money every week in the sticks. Here you have a big theatre--6,200 seats, 200 seats larger than Radio City. Were you talking about four shows a day?"

He said, "What do you mean--four shows a day? Who are you going to play to?"

So I made him a bet. I would give him twenty-five percent of the first dollar that came in to the box office, and I would take the rest.

"You're crazy," he said. "You'll lose your shirt."

I said, "I will, will I? It's my shirt. Why should you worry?"

"You've got yourself a deal," he said.

That was the worst deal he ever made in his life. I was there fifteen weeks, and the policy was so good, I'd like to have that as a band policy for a big orchestra. I got Paul Whiteman, Vincent Lopez, Fred Waring, and George Olson. I got them all in there at the Hippodrome. It cost $2.20 to get in and hear the biggest and the best bands in the world. So we had that as a band policy for a whole year. And the first thing you know, I'm back in the driver's seat and making money. Then Billy Rose's Jumbo came along, and I leased the theatre to them. They were there for three years and eight months, and it was one of the biggest hits that was ever in there.

CW: And then they tore it down. Society AL: Yes, they tore it down, because they couldn't follow it with another act. They even tried cut-price opera, but it didn't work.

CW: Going back to the big bands, you mentioned some of your contemporaries-- Whiteman, Waring, and Lopez. Give me a thumbnail sketch of your memories of Whiteman and Waring. Historical AL: I first met Paul Whiteman in 1917, when I joined the Marine Corps in Valejo, California. He, Rudy Wiedoeft, Fred Hume--five or six guys who were recording artists-- and myself were all there at the same time. When I met Rudy Wiedoeft, who was making records for Edison theand who Twin was the Citiesworld's greatest Oral saxophone History and clarinet Project player, I said, "What are you doing here?" Minnesota He said, "Well, I joined."

Did youJazz know inthat Whiteman had played viola with the Denver Symphony?

CW: Yes.

AL: He was a good musician. We had him and Bert Hume, who was a classical concert pianist. As soon as they found out that we were all there, the commanding officer got us all together after boot camp. We started entertaining the soldiers and putting on shows. The next thing I knew, we were all detailed to the band. The only guy the band could really use was Rudy Wiedoeft, who played clarinet and saxophone. And I mean he really played them.

I said to Rudy, "I don't know what I'm going to play."

"Well," he said, "You can carry the clarinet."

So they gave me an old clarinet, and I carried the darn thing.

Then Rudy said to me, "Why don't you learn to play that? What the hell--with you being a musician, you ought to be able to play that in a few months, if you've got a lip."

"Will you teach me?" I asked.

"Sure," he said. "We'll go down to the beach tomorrow morning after colors."

So we went down there, and he showed me how to play. I didn't know it, but with my technique, I had a natural lip for breathing. I didn't realize it at first, but in half an hour, I could get a tune. Then he showed me the fingering. In about two or three days, I was playing this thing. He gave me exercises and everything else. I already knew how to read music, so he didn't have to teach me that. All he had to do was teach me the instrument-- the fingering and everything. The first thing I knew, I was playingSociety duets with him.

He turned around to me one day and said, "Hey, do you know something? You really could go on to play that instrument if you wanted to take it seriously."

At the camp there was a soldier who played the saxophone. He had alcohol problems. He always needed money for alcohol. He got away with it since everybody was protecting him because he was such a nice guy. One dayHistorical he took his saxophone to Valejo and hocked it. By golly, they caught up with him and put him in the brig. Finally, they sent him to the hospital to dry out.

I went into the pawn shop and said, "How much do you want for the saxophone?" the Twin Cities Oral History Project "Well," the clerk said, "I paid seventy-five dollars for it." Minnesota "Seventy-five dollars!" I said. "What did you really pay for it? Jazz in "Oh, pretty close to that," he said.

I said, "No, you did not. I recognize that instrument. You bought that from a Marine and gave him thirty dollars for it. I'm willing to give you a little profit on it, but please don't take me over."

"I'll tell you what I'll do," he said. "I'll give it to you for fifty dollars."

I said, "I'll give you forty-five for it."

"You got it," he said.

So I took it back to the Marine, who was out of the band by that time. He was on the cure. I went over to see him, and I told him, "I've got your saxophone, and I'd like you to know that you can have it if you want."

"No," he said, "I don't want it any more. I'm not going to have anything to do with band music, because that's why I got on the liquor." He later went back to straight duty.

So I got his saxophone, and I learned to play it. When I got back to Minneapolis, I could play the violin, the saxophone, and the clarinet. I then required everybody in the orchestra to play at least three instruments. If I could do it, they could do it. On this record that I'm going to play for you a little later on, you're going to hear the horns and everything else. You'd swear it was a twenty-piece orchestra, but it's only six men.

I've got tapes of "Three O’clock in the Morning" and "Rip Saw Blues" and I've also got records here at my music studio. This is the song that I told you about, the one I played at the NVA. I was the first musician ever allowed to perform in the NVA who was not in the union. Here it is--I hope you enjoy it. Society

[Music]

CW: Very good.

AL: You like that? Historical CW: Yes.

AL: That's why they let me in. [Laughs] I enjoyed it, you know. I had an ability for sounds that I'd beenthe developing Twin ever Cities since childhood. Oral When History I was a kid, Project I had to write music. I had to write my exercises, as well as play them. That was part of our tutoring when I was a little fellowMinnesota. I was an apprentice to a master violinist and violin maker. That's how I learned, so it was nothing new to me. I could sit down and write music like you write a letter. The melodies would come according to what I was writing. Having an educationalJazz background in in both France and England is pretty good, you know.

I've got another record here. We were talking a little while ago about old actors. George M. Cohan had the highest paid family act in vaudeville at that time. We were talking about the Dixieland Jazz Band, and now I'm going to let you hear, for the first time for you and anybody else--George M. Cohan and the Dixieland Jazz Band. I hope you like it.

[Music]

CW: That's wonderful.

AL: Is that a surprise?

CW: It is.

AL: Isn't that recording of good quality? I take out the highs and put in the lows so that it is acceptable today. I had met George M. Cohan and played with him in vaudeville.

Let me tell you a funny story about him. In those days, there were four of them in the act-- a daughter, a son, and Josephine, his wife. His daughter and son got a chance to get into a musical at the end of the season in June. Of course in those days, all the theatres closed in the summer because there was no air conditioning. They came to Pop and told him about the offer. They would get nearly as much for starring in the show as they were getting for the act. They were telling him that they would like to have that opportunity. Poor George was in a spot, you know. But being a fair-minded guy and a good father, he said they could go ahead.

So they went to work during the summer. They rehearsed two months and then opened in the show. And I'm going to tell you something--they were fantastic. They were a big hit. It was their first time on Broadway, and boy, they really drew. InSociety September, George and his wife were living out on Long Island, where all the actors lived in their summer homes. The vaudevillians were all going down to the bookers, getting ready to do another season.

George asked his son and daughter, "How about us doing a double act?"

But they had spent many years on the stage, and they were enjoying their act, so they didn't want to go back. Historical

"Well, would you mind if I did a single act?"

They didn't mind, sothe he went Twin down toCities Broadway Oral to the ParkHistory Theatre. Project

He saw Mr. Albee and Minnesotasaid, "Hello, Pat, how are you?"

"Fine and dandy," Pat said. "What have you got on your mind?" Jazz in George M. said, "I want to do a single."

"Is it really going to be a single?" Pat said.

"Yes," George M. said.

"Well," Pat said, "I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll book you on Fifth Avenue, and we'll look at you. Then I'll tell you what you are worth."

George M. said, "When can I open?"

"In two weeks," Pat said. "I've got an opening for a headliner down there."

So George M. did headline for him, and of course, he was a performer like Al Jolson. This fellow was fantastic. He stopped show after show. And he really brought in the business. In show business they always say, "Pay off the act." There was no package in those days, so they would pay off the act. Pat went down and knocked on the dressing room door.

George M. said, "Come in."

"Hello," he said. "Young fellow, I'm just down here to pay you. Here it is--one, two, three, four, five, six."

George M. looked at him and said, "Six dollars! I thought you were going to pay me what I was worth."

"That's what you're worth," Pat said. Society There was no place for George M. to work--he would have to work in a nightclub, and he wouldn't do it. He was a stage man. So he didn't say anything, but when he went out for supper that night, the dancing team in the next dressing room came out and said, "Hello, George. Hey--what was the extra dollar for?" [Laughs]

Vaudevillians really put each other on in those days. But I'll tell you one thing--when there was any trouble, they hung together likeHistorical nothing you ever saw in your life. They really were a family.

George M. went home and told his wife about it. She said, "Well, you don't need them. Let them go on without us--we don't care." the Twin Cities Oral History Project About a month or two went by. Of course, a booker called up and said, "George, I'm going to find an openingMinnesota for you."

"I'm Jazznot interested," in George M. said.

"What do you mean you're not interested? They'll give you $1,000 for you alone. You only got $1,400 for your whole family," the booker said.

George M. said, "I'm not interested. If Mr. Albee wants me, let them call me up himself."

Sure enough, two or three weeks weeks went by, and Albee needed a headliner. You know that they were always looking for headliners. He finally got around to calling George M.

"This is Mr. Albee," he said.

George M. said, "Hello. How are you, Mr. Albee?"

"Fine and dandy,” he said. "I'd like to have you play the Palace."

George M. said, "I'm not interested. I'm retired, and I'm not going to perform any more."

"Oh, you've got to," Mr. Albee said.

George M. said, "Do you really want me to? How bad do you want me?"

"I'll tell you what I'll do," Mr. Albee said. "I'll give you what you got for your act, for you alone--$1,400."

"Not enough," George M. said.

"What!" Society George M. said, "That's not enough. That's not what I want. I want $2,000."

And do you know that he got it? [Laughs]

He really had talent. There are stories that nobody else ever heard about, but we knew about them because we were playing there in those days. We met all these marvelous stars, and they were really marvelous people.Historical They had talent that you can't even think of today.

CW: And to think that they had to fill a big auditorium with their voices. They really had to articulate. the Twin Cities Oral History Project AL: Absolutely. There were no microphones, no help at all. Minnesota CW: And they had to time their material perfectly. Jazz in AL: The timing--yes that was it. Of your theatre actors, some of the best were former vaudevillians--Ed Wynn, all those guys. My wife, Ann Butler, played in Tolstoy. I have a program of it I just found yesterday. I'll show it to you later on. The producer couldn't believe it. It was the biggest and most expensive show ever produced on Broadway. She was the only one in a cast of 200 who went through the whole script without a hitch.

Let me play something for you. This Al Jolson--you've got to hear Al Jolson. This is when we played at the Winter Garden with him, and he was singing, "California, Here I Come." Oh, could he sing it.

[Music]

That was Al Jolson and Art Landry and His Victor Recording Band.

[Music]

CW: Did you always do just a verse and a chorus?

AL: Yes. Al Jolson, with his timing and delivery, was a fellow who could sit there with an orchestra for two hours and then do an hour of encores. I don't care--I can listen to Caruso for just so long. But Jolson had a personality. As you heard, right in the middle of the song, they started to applaud. He was electrifying them. He was really great.

CW: Now, did he clue into that departure?

AL: No, no, I could follow him. I knew his style. Let me tell you something that a lot of people don't realize. I had the finest musicians to be had in the land. In that orchestra, I had five guys. The fellow who wrote "Mares Eat Oats" was my piano player. His name was Jerry Livingston. He passed on a couple of years ago. HeSociety made a lot of money on "Mares Eat Oats," you know.

I had men there who were the top men wherever they went. They could have had their own orchestras. They had a certain pride in this orchestra. We had the highest standards of any orchestra. There were certain things we would not do. Other orchestras would go on benders, or they were gamblers, or they were drinkers, but our orchestra was always clean. A lot like Perry Como and his band, hisHistorical life.

As a matter of fact, here is an audition record of Perry Como. He came in one day while I was recording. I had let the boys go fifteen minutes ahead of time because I wanted them to go home to eat andthe dress Twin and get Citiesready for the Oral night show. History If I could, Project I always let them off fifteen minutes ahead while I stayed there. This night I had let the orchestra go, and Mr. King came over. HeMinnesota said, "We've got an audition today."

I said, "Who is it?" Jazz in "A fellow by the name of Perry Como," he said.

I said, "Who?"

"Perry Como," he said. "You know, the Italian kid."

I said, "Oh, from Ted Weems' band. Okay, fine and dandy."

"What are you going to do about music?" he said.

"I'll get my guitar," I said. "We'll get along--we'll be able to hear him."

I then asked the crew and technicians to stay on for a few minutes. Here is the record we made. It's short, but they only wanted to hear Perry Como. There was no rehearsal.

All I asked him was, "Perry, what would you like to sing?"

He said, "How about `The Posies' or `Sleepy Time Gal'? You recorded that record a long time ago. I'd like to do either one."

"Well," I said, "Which do you prefer?"

"How about `The Posies'?" he said.

Here's what happened.

[Music]

CW: Wonderful, wonderful. Society

AL: Now you know why they signed him, don't you?

CW: Yes.

AL: Now that fellow sounds just the same today as he did years ago. His voice hasn't changed at all. He never abused it. He was neverHistorical a smoker or a drinker. There you are--if there is any better example of what doing the right thing will do, there it is. There has never been any gossip about him--he is a family man. I look forward to getting a call from him every once in a while, not very often. the Twin Cities Oral History Project He will say, "Maestro?" Minnesota And I'll say, "Yes. Is this Perry?" I can tell by his voice--it is always quiet.

"I can'tJazz fool you," in he will say.

"No," I will say, "I would know your voice any place, no matter where I was."

He will get a laugh out of it. He will ask me how I am, and he will tell me, "You know, I hear wonderful things about you. You are going all over the place, making special appearances."

I will say, "Yes. I'm not going to stop. I'm going to keep right on going." Then we'll have a little visit.

I heard from Ray Bolger just about six months before he passed on. Of course, he started with me. He was a fine artist. I've got a record here when he was king of the records. When he first came to New York, I said to Eddie Finney, "You've got to get this guy. You've got to hear this fellow at the Palace Royale. He's a friend of mine. Besides, he is something; he's a very fine man."

So Finney went to see him. Ray Bolger wasn't much of a big recording man, and he wasn't much for nightclubs. But Finney signed him up.

A while after that, George Gershwin came to see me one night. I was walking around Broadway, and he said, "Arthur, I have something for you. This is my best composition-- would you look at it?

"Yes," I said. "I'll look at it." So I looked at it, and it was "Rhapsody in Blue."

CW: No.

AL: I looked at it, and I said, "Oh, this is marvelous, George. How in the world did you ever get into this stuff? Isn't this over your head?" Society

"No," he said, "I wanted to do this. That's why I came to you, because you've got a big orchestra and you can do this."

I said, "I just got through recording. I'm sorry, but I'm going on the road and I'll be gone for three or four months. But gee whiz, you ought to have this recorded. This is marvelous. Why don't you go over and see PaulHistorical Whiteman? He is going to make records for His Master's Voice."

"But he's only got nine men," George said. the Twin Cities Oral History Project I said, "My God, you have a whole list of people there you can have. My gosh, we've got the best musicians there in recording. There are thirty-three men there, and about fifteen or sixteen of them are houseMinnesota men."

"Well,"Jazz he said, in "I'll try it."

So I forgot about it. The next thing I know, I'm walking around some street in some city and I hear... [Humming]

I thought to myself, "My God, where have I heard that before?" Well, I hadn't heard it before, but I had seen it. I remembered the melody. I thought, "My God, that's `Rhapsody in Blue'--he's made a record of it."

So I went into the store, and I listened to it. I said, "How much do you want for it?"

The clerk said, "A dollar and a half."

"Good," I said. "You've got yourself a deal."

So I have that record--"Rhapsody in Blue" with Paul Whiteman. Would you like to hear it?

CW: Yes.

AL: It's the original record. I hope you enjoy it.

[Music]

CW: I'd like to hear one of your early records.

AL: This is "Sleepy Time Gal" which sold an awful lot of records. I hope you enjoy it. I haven't played this in years.

AL: Wasn't that your theme song? Society

CW: Yes, all the time in the hotel.

[Music]

CW: That's a gem. Now is that the Curtis groupHistorical playing?

AL: That's The Call of the North Orchestra. That record is over fifty years old.

CW: It's a nice arrangement. the Twin Cities Oral History Project AL: That's the first time three clarinets ever played a chorus. The trombone players were in triple time. [HummingMinnesota] We used to do those things just to get the attention of the musicians and the audience. They'd hear a trombone, and then they'd hear something else.

CW:Jazz Did you indo the arrangements on that?

AL: Yes, I did all the arrangements on that stuff. Do you have time for another one?

CW: Yes, sure.

AL: This is a record I told you about when I played "Scheherazade" at the Curtis Hotel. I used to play a violin solo, and now you are going to hear it in rhythm. This is what got the newspaper man all upset, and he accused me of desecrating the classics. Here it is.

[Music]

AL: Like that?

CW: It's terrific. Why didn't you ever record it commercially?

AL: I never got around to it. I'll tell you why. Commercially, I doubt it would sell because it's classical.

CW: Whiteman did something like that.

AL: Yes, he did, but this is only six men. When our sextet played, you heard all the strings, then you would hear horns, horns, horns, then the French horn. The melody was played with the flugelhorn. Did you notice the bass? We didn't have a bass. Those six men could play about fifteen instruments.

CW: What was that?

AL: The piano. Society CW: No.

AL: That was a Steinway piano.

CW: For goodness sake! I'm glad you told me, because that makes all the difference in the world. Historical

AL: Yes, that was played by only six men. I played this for them at NBC [National Broadcasting Corporation] years and years later, and I asked them to guess how many men were in it. Of course, some of them said twenty, and others guessed eighteen. There were only six men thethere. NowTwin you areCities going to Oralhear the firstHistory clarinet I everProject recorded.

[Music] Minnesota

CW: Oh, that's wonderful. Jazz in AL: Isn't that marvelous?

CW: It is.

AL: It's a classic today, you know. Nobody has these records today. I just have them here for people who want to come in and hear them, like you. Here is a recording from 1914.

[Music]

AL: There you have it.

CW: Tell me about it.

AL: I was playing in Philadelphia then. The Philadelphia Symphony was recording, and I went over there and they asked me to play it. So I played it. I already had made three records with the orchestra.

CW: So that was Art Landry playing violin?

AL: Yes, in 1914, I was a concert violinist. I knew nothing about jazz. I had never heard of it--it was not in my life at all. I can still hear the same thing, only years and years later of course, but in rhythm. That's what makes the story. Mr. Edison was quite a guy. He was deaf, you know. You had to holler when you talked to him.

CW: Yes. Describe the studio.

AL: That was probably one of the best studios available. They still had disks, you know. Now that sounds like a great big orchestra because of the new equipment and everything else. But at the time, that didn't sound that good. We have cleanedSociety it up since then, but it shows you what we did in there. It was a good orchestra. They had--I imagine--eighteen or twenty pieces--but they couldn't put them all in there. That's the way they recorded in those days, when Genette became a manager of sound. The sound was good. It was not like the first recordings. We didn't have microphones then, and the violin had to play into the horn. The trombones and trumpets were fine, but basses and bass drums were out because the vibration was too slow. We hadHistorical to make up for it by playing right at the horn and playing as loud as we could to get anything to come out.

CW: That was a flat...

AL: ...One of the firstthe flat Twin recordings, Cities the first platterOral records History instead ofProject the cylinders.

CW: That's what I thought.Minnesota

AL: That's right. We had big horns, but they did a pretty good job. We were able to pick themJazz up. There in is a lot on those old records that I can clean up now. As a matter of fact, I've got a tape that is much better than that, but that's the original and that's what you wanted to hear. That's why I put it on. This is a cleaned up tape, but that shows you how good it was at the time. These are all classics. Nobody has recordings of these except me, and now you.

CW: Thank you, Art Landry.