Percy C. Hughes Narrator

Margaret A. Robertson Interviewer

September 25, 1989 Minneapolis,

Percy C. Hughes - PCH Margaret A. Robertson - MAR

MAR: Mr. Hughes, could you begin by telling me when and where you were born.

PCH: I was born in St. Paul in 1922. I lived in St. Paul one year. All of my schooling and upbringing was in Minneapolis.

MAR: What part of Minneapolis? Society PCH: South Minneapolis, my schools were Warrington Grade School, Bryant Junior High School and Central Senior High School. And I was going on two years at the University of Minnesota and then Uncle Sam grabbed me.

MAR: What year was that?

PCH: The first part of 1943. I went into the army,Historical and I was fortunate, I guess I’d say—I’m black, so I’m very fortunate. I was assigned to a ground force band because of my musical ability. So, it was a learning process for me. When I really became aware of real good , I was surrounded in this band with guys off of ’s band, ’s band. I was stationed the first part of my army time at Fort Riley, so I got into Kansas City as often as possible, and that’s wherethe I heard Twin all of Citiesthese Jazz Greats.Oral That’s History when it startedProject rubbing off on me. Minnesota MAR: You mentioned that you had a musical background before you went into the army. How did that come about? Jazz in PCH: Well, I started playing clarinet at age eleven in the school system. And I worked and saved money and took private lessons. I went through high school in the band and the orchestra. I continued my instruments because then the neighborhood guys formed a little band. The clarinet players tried to perform like an Artie Shaw or a Benny Goodman through those years. And I stayed on the horn, playing the clarinet and by then, I think, my first saxophone was a C- Melody saxophone, and I was off and running, so to speak.

MAR: Was your family interested in music?

1 PCH: Yes, my mother was a pianist, and my brother studied the trumpet. Whenever company came to the house it would be, “get your horns out, boys!” and we’d have to perform for the company. I learned La Golandrina well. That was one of her songs for us.

MAR: So, tell me more about you and the army band. What kind of things would you play for, where did you go?

PCH: Well all right, we played a lot of band rallies and concerts. I can remember playing concerts all over Kansas, Missouri, and Kentucky, as we moved. And we played for the officers’ dances, both commissioned officers and the sergeants and non-commissioned officers’ dances. We were busy. We played a lot of the field ceremonies for them. I would imagine the average army musician was a good rifleman because it seems like we were always going to the rifle range. They really didn’t have a lot to do with us, other than the ceremonies and what not. I was kind of lucky, I was also assigned to Special Services because as a kid I was a very good baseball player, and so I was on the regimental baseball team also.

MAR: So the band was attached to the unit that you were in?

PCH: Right, right. We were a regimental band that was the title. Society MAR: Was this a segregated band too?

PCH: Yes, it was. Everything was segregated back in those years. I can remember being in Louisiana and each post or fort had two bands and that was the name of the game back in those years. But, we seemed to always get together for jam sessions. Quiet, but it wasn’t known all over the base. So I got to meet and make some neat friends. In my background, it was hard for me because I grew up not knowing about segregationHistorical or racism. My neighborhood was just a neighborhood. There wasn’t the black and white thing, Anglo, Negro, whatever it was—just a bunch of young people. You either liked each other or you didn’t, and it wasn’t because of the color of your skin. And thanks to my mom and dad, our home was always a popular place. Dad had a basketball hoop on the tree for us, and guys would come over. We had a ping-pong table, and we were quite the place.the [Interruption]Twin Cities Oral History Project

MAR: You were talking aboutMinnesota home life.

PCH: Oh, home life, right. And then to be inducted into the service. I remember going right to Fort Riley,Jazz Kansas. in And going to movies, I’d hear someone yell, “Hi Perc.” We’d be in the theatre, and that was segregated. And there would be someone I’d grown up with and played ball with, ping-pong with, gone to school with, and yet we were separated. It was hard for me not to become bitter. But I didn’t, thanks to my home training, I would say. I grew up being taught brotherly love, but at the same time my dad put a boxing bag in the basement and taught us how to box. Maybe that helped some, I don’t know. But that was hard to take, very hard to take. So, like in that article in the Minnesota Monthly, I was determined if I ever had the opportunity, which I’ve had all of these years, of maybe preaching brotherly love, and I use my bandstand for that. I was a little bitter though back in the ‘40s when I couldn’t buddy-buddy with the guys I grew up with. Pretty hard.

2

MAR: How long were you in the service then?

PCH: Three years. I went in in 1943 and was discharged in ‘46.

MAR: And you came right back to Minneapolis.

PCH: Right. I swore I’d never leave town, never. And actually, my band was so popular and in demand, I had a chance through Music Corporation of America to tour with Peggy Lee and after—bless him—Charlie Richter told me what the itinerary was to be, I lied my way out of that, because I had sworn I’d never go South again, and the tour was going to head South. And no way. It’s different now, that I know, I guess. I’ve been South, I’ve been to a Super Bowl in New Orleans, and my wife and I plan to go with another couple to Florida for spring training, baseball training. I’ll take a mouthpiece and sit in with whomever if the opportunity arises.

MAR: So when you came back to Minneapolis, you decided to go into music?

PCH: Oh, by then I knew music was my main interest. And like I say I had been in touch with the Naval Band personnel, most of those guys out at the Wold Chamberlain were out of the Kentucky area. On furloughs I used to sit in with them and we becameSociety friends and they knew I was a musician, a playing musician, and we were all discharged about the same time.

And the way it all happened, the guys couldn’t decide on who they wanted to be their leader—a little professional jealousy. So in a way I was the outsider, but this was my home, which made a little sense that maybe I would have more contacts. So I became the leader. I just inherited a great group of fine musicians. That was the beginning of the Percy Hughes music. Historical We were an instant hit with the colleges, the Universities. I remember playing many homecomings for, like, Hamline, Macalester, St. Thomas, the U of M—you name the schools— Canton.

We were very popular theand at Twinthat time theCities one guy Oralthat really History made it all come Project together for us was Leigh Kamman. At that time he was a disc jockey and you called people on radio that sold jazz, disc jockeys then, overMinnesota WLOL. He had a corner, “Jazz Corner,” he called it, jazz on Saturday afternoon. He used to have me on his program quite often. We became very good friends. Jazz in Then he started producing concerts, and I was always his house band backing up singles, and we would be part of the concert, playing our compositions. I remember backing up Patty Page before she gave her “Doggy in the Window” thing. She was just a very nervous, frightened young lady, and I helped make her hang loose just by talking with her and everything, back stage. She remembered that quite some years afterwards when she came to the Minneapolis auditorium, after she was very big—the “Doggy in the Window” and her other songs—and my band was a standby band. At that time, any time a big name person or group came to the Minneapolis auditorium they had to have a standby band. I used to get quite a few engagements like that. I can remember once with Duke Ellington. But anyway, she recognized me. She came

3 down, and we reminisced, and she thanked me again for making her comfortable. That was meaningful.

MAR: During this time were you a full time musician or did you have another job?

PCH: Before the war, I started working for Minneapolis Honeywell, and I was in their orchestra. Then, it was like immediately, I went into the service. And so after the war I went back into Honeywell. Well, the band became so popular, and we had a chance to play a whole summer up at Bar Harbor, up above Brainerd, Bar Harbor Resort, and we’d live up there. So, “Honeywell,” I said, “goodbye.” [Laughter] And, I worked two summers up at Bar Harbor, ‘48-’49. And the band was really on a roll then. Around the first part of the 1950s, I saw television start to kill the nightclubs. People were buying televisions and were sitting home watching all that top entertainment and all of a sudden the clubs that used to be like every night a Saturday night, it was just the weekends that were big. So, consequently, I started looking ahead and I went into the Post Office. I became a letter carrier for two reasons. First, I liked the physicalness of it. I figured that would be my health kick. And it was day work. If I did any other kind of work, I’d have to work nights. And I knew I would never leave music—that was my big romance.

MAR: So you were a postal carrier f or many years, right? Society PCH: Yes, I did my full thirty with my army time. I was pretty proud of that because I had good discipline. They say musicians drink and carouse. But when I left the post office I was able to leave a half a year ahead of the time because of the sick leave I had accrued. It taught me good discipline. At one time, I was a smoker. I quit smoking New Years Eve at the Point Supper Club, 1956. I quit then, and I haven’t had a cigarette since then. I’m proud of that. I don’t preach it, but I encourage people to forget the weed, any weed. Historical MAR: That’s right. Your first wife was a singer. Tell me about meeting her.

PCH: Judy Perkins. We kept her name even after we were married. She was very popular. She was a people person. We made a real good team. We sold brotherly love together. Judy’s sister— she’s still alive, God blessthe her—is Twin Anna Cities Mae Windburn Oral of thHistorye International Project Sweethearts of Rhythm. And that was an all-girl band that Anna Mae had and they were internationally known. They had an audience withMinnesota the Pope back in the 1930s. She’s a little older than I am, and Judy did some singing with her before she based herself here. We were married and worked together most all of her years, until, like I say, there was a period right, maybe three or four years before she becameJazz terminally in ill, where we had to split up musically.

She worked with a great trio. They called themselves Three On Cue. Ronnie Newman, the keyboard player who is the Twins organist and has been for quite a few years. And from time to time I’d work with them also while still maintaining my own music. But it was a very beautiful period of time in my life. She died of cancer, New Year’s Day, twelve noon, 1975. We had planned, before we discovered that she was terminally ill, to make an album. So I made that album; I promised her before she passed that I would do the album. And I did, titling it I Remember Judy. And what can I say, she was beautiful, and she had God—the Lord was with her. She told me just a couple of things. She wanted me to make that album. She told me to meet

4 someone, and she’d better be nice, or she’d come down and haunt me. I feel that I did meet someone, real nice. So I know she is smiling down on me.

MAR: When did you two meet, was it after...?

PCH: Oh, back in the 1940s. She was singing with a band back in 1946.

MAR: So almost right after you came out of the army?

PCH: Right, right. She was from Omaha, but she was here with her sisters and a brother. She was a very popular, fine vocalist. A lot of the young vocalists used to show up and just sit and prep on her. She was a purist, a pure jazz vocalist.

MAR: You mentioned your band played a lot of colleges and universities. What were some of the other spots that were popular at that time to play?

PCH: Nightclubs?

MAR: Yes. Society PCH: The first place we played was Treasure Inn, which was a University [of Minnesota] kids’ hangout. And it was a Black nightclub, which is very unusual. The club was well run, clean, and very popular, like I say with the University kids. Most every night we played there the place would be packed before we were due to hit the stand. We played there a couple of years, but there was an unfortunate happening, and that was the end of that.

That brought me up to 1948, when we went intoHistorical a place downtown Minneapolis, called Snyders. This was a place on Sixth Street between Hennepin Avenue and Nicollet Avenue, right across from Juster Brothers. We stayed there two years, and they let me go away to play in the summer months. We’d play Bar Harbor, up over Brainerd, Bar Harbor Resort, and we’d live up there and then come back to Snyders until summer and go back up to Bar Harbor. That [Snyders] was a popular place. Right aroundthe theTwin corner wasCities the Dome, Oral at that History time, and I can Project remember neat jam sessions with the bands, like, Red Allen’s band, who was loaded with just tremendous musicians. His piano player at that timeMinnesota was Fritz Jones who changed his name to Amad Jamal. He was very popular—a fine jazz pianist. He was nice—he left me with a couple of arrangements. After that, let me see,where did I go? You still want to know where I...? Jazz in MAR: Sure.

PCH: Okay. Oakridge Resort out of Anoka was another college hangout. I don’t know why they called it a resort. Well, it was a resort, it was right on a lake, Coon Lake, and this was another place where even the security guys, they were called back then the bouncers, were football players off of the University team—the big guys, they looked like linemen to me. And we were there a little over a year.

About that time is when I went into the Flame Cafe, and that had been named the Club Carnival.

5 I know that will ring a bell to a lot of people. The first act, I backed up was George Kirby who was an up-and-coming comedian at that time. I stayed there off and on until—(this was the very first part of 1950)—the middle of 1956 when I was replaced by Tex Ritter, a cowboy. [Laughter]

But through those years, I was the house band. We did shows. We went through the composers—Cole Porter... .names elude me right now, and we’d have even classical singers, depending on what the show was. We did that for a couple of years. Then a jazz program. I remember backing up Carmen McRae. I can remember Gene Krupa having his quartet there, , Buddy DeFranco, Count Basie, Sarah Vaugh, and my most favorite person— who I portray in Red Wolfe’s Echos of Ellington Band—. We became very close friends. We both played the same instruments, basically, the Alto [Sax]. He came in with a sextet, and by then I had had to reduce my band to a sextet, so we had the same instrumentation and we exchanged some charts. So, after Tex Ritter took my place, I went out to the Point Supper Club—a neat place. Six nights a week I worked out there. Six nights a week and I was carrying mail too, at the same time. But it was such a romance.

The owner, Larry Hork, said, “This is your room, Perc, do what you want with it as long as you keep people in there.” Which I did. The place was very popular and I remember Sundays being so great because a lot of the jazz entertainers that were in town would come out on Sundays and sit in with me. Greats like Johnny Smith, a fine guitarist; Toots [Mondello]Society the guy that doubles harmonica and guitar. Oh, I’m so bad on names. Oscar Peterson, Ray Brown, Ed Thigpen. Oscar Peterson was one of the bands at the Flame too, when I was there. We became good friends. I was a golfer at that time. I played golf with Ray Brown, a fine bassist. This memory bank of mine isn’t the greatest. I hope you will bear with me.

MAR: No, it sure is wonderful. What were some of the influences on your jazz playing? Historical PCH: First off, the years I was in the army, we had great charts for the jazz band—the dance band they called it then, because that was our primary purpose with the jazz end of the army ground force band, to play for the officers and band rallies and things like that. But fine charts that bands, like, bandleaders like Count Basie and Duke would send the band because of some of the members being formerthe members Twin of Citiestheir band. ThisOral band History I had after the Project war, we had three arrangers in the band: Frank Lewis, a fine arranger; Howard Williams, the bassist, who was a fine arranger; and David Goodlow.Minnesota David Goodlow is another person I want to get in touch with. Practically all of those guys, other than Irv Williams and David Goodlow are in that bandstand in the sky now. Jazz in MAR: Were Ellington and Count Basie some of your major influences?

PCH: Oh, gosh, yes. I remember my mother who was a pianist, she was bringing in those old 78s—some Duke Ellington music and some other jazz artists. So I’d have to say I was exposed to jazz at a very young age, beginning to learn the clarinet at age eleven. And then I was in a settlement house band, Phyllis Wheatley Band. I can remember back in ‘37, ‘38, ‘39, the most popular song being “In The Mood.” And what is my most requested song now—“In The Mood.”

MAR: So things kind of go in circles, don’t they?

6

PCH: Right, right. But I’ve been fortunate by having just fine musicians around me, and that’s what it takes. No man is an island by himself. And I’ve always encouraged—I’ve had young college musicians who would bring in--I knew they wanted to experiment on writing so I encouraged them to bring in their charts and we will play them. Which we did, and I feel that I’ve helped a lot of young people hone their wares.

MAR: Was there a lot of swapping of arrangements and people stealing riffs and that sort of thing, back then?

PCH: Oh yes. How do you learn? I had three favorite saxophonists back in those years. Number one was Johnny Hodges. I think mainly Johnny Hodges because he played pretty and I guess my inner feelings were more towards pretty than just plain multi-, multi-, multi-noted passages which I don’t think I’ve ever really been equipped for. Like the Charley Parker era, sure my group, we did some of those things, but within limits, because Percy Hughes didn’t have the Charley Parker touch. I would say that Percy Hughes has had a Johnny Hodges touch. Before those three musicians, my favorites were Benny Goodman and Artie Shaw because clarinet was my only instrument for quite a few years.

MAR: What was your influence with radio in those days. You mentionedSociety some traveling shows?

PCH: You talk about radio. Leigh Kamman was my radio bible, so to speak, because I liked what he played. He played Stan Kenton, whom I was really interested in because it was new form of jazz—some dissonance but it still made sense to me. He played a lot of Basie and Ellington’s, Woody Herman. So many bands influenced me. I remember back in the war years going to Omaha to a theater with a bunch of the guys from our armed forces band to hear , who was performing at this theatre withHistorical Erskine Hawkins who was a very good band. I don’t think he was related to Coleman Hawkins, who became one of my favorite tenor saxophones later on.

Being up late I had my radio on in the bedroom, listening. Early on—when I say early on I mean before I became an adultthe—I knewTwin music Cities had a lot ofOral meaning History to me. I had Projectno thoughts at that time of becoming a professional musician, but I knew I enjoyed playing the instruments. It was quite a thrill when a bunchMinnesota of us young guys got together at someone’s house where there was a piano. We tried to play a lot of tunes that just didn’t come off right because we were young and really didn’t know jazz that well yet. But most all of these fellows have put it together and are doing theirJazz things innow. Eric Eire...I can remember being at his home. He became a college professor, teaching voice, and to this day plays great clarinet and saxophone. He’s a dear friend. One of the guys from back in the middle ‘30s.

MAR: Do you think the presence of jazz programs on radio also helped you in terms of your audience in creating an awareness and appreciation for that kind of music?

PCH: I think it taught me stage presentation. And also going through radio, because I listened, I listened, I listened, and a lot of times the band leader would be able to speak for himself and I think it really rubbed off on me. I have no qualms with being an MC, master of ceremonies. It’s

7 not a nervous thing for me. Sure, early on it was, but I was always fortunate because I knew I had a product that was a good product so I didn’t have to, excuse the expression, “sweat that out,” when we were going to perform. We sort of looked forward to our performances.

MAR: Those articles and things that you saved in your scrap book, especially the things that were written by Leigh Kamman, mentioned that certain racial attitudes held your band back. Do you have any thoughts on that?

PCH: That’s true, that’s true. I found out later, one of my very closest friends on that band was the trombonist, like those two summers at Bar Harbor and he was white, Anglo-white. Harry Anderson, God bless him, we enjoyed Bar Harbor because—I didn’t know much about fishing but we both played golf, so instead of carousing, he and I played a lot of golf together and we fished a lot. The first downtown job I got was at Snyders and—this I never knew about until many years afterwards—Harry told me how the FBI had contacted him and wanted him to be like a, what do you call it? Keep in touch with them—

MAR: Informer.

PCH: Informer, yes. Inform about what? No one on my band messed with dope or anything. I had one thing I’d tell anyone on my band, “If you can drink and blowSociety your horn, okay. If you can’t drink and blow your horn, I don’t want you, or don’t drink. If you mess with dope, I don’t want you, and I don’t care how good you are, I don’t want you from the word go.” So, that was my band. The personnel on my band. . .to my knowledge no one around me messed with dope. I did some drinking early on myself, but I just wanted to make sure everyone had enough pride for their product that they wouldn’t get drunk and not be able to perform. And that’s something I could not buy. So, that’s the way it was. It took a real neat man that was interested in my music that opened the door at Snyders. Historical

So that was the first black group playing downtown Minneapolis, large group. There might have been some singles like Ozzie Dial, a fine lounge pianist and singer. She was a lady—that might have been the only reason she was able to perform, I don’t know. But by us playing downtown at Snyders for two years withthe no Twin problems, Cities I think that’s Oral what reallyHistory began to Project open the door for black musicians. I really believe so. Then I think it was just one of those things, if you are popular, I’m going to use you.Minnesota You might have been the biggest bigot in the world, but if I can put a buck in your pocket that speaks louder for some people I guess. But I’m redundant, if it hadn’t have been for Leigh Kamman I might never have gotten of f the ground. I think he was the wholeJazz cause of in Joe Public and the clubs realizing, hey, this is a group that can bring some money to me. And it worked, and I thank Leigh Kamman. We are both on the Twin Cities Jazz Society Board. And we’ve been board members since Jazz Society’s inception, so we are in touch with each other. He did the liner on this album I made, I Remember Judy. He’s quite a guy.

MAR: Do you think that discrimination held your band back, as far as getting jobs after Snyders?

PCH: You remember one thing: I did not want to travel. I knew I didn’t want to travel, and when one job was ending it seemed like there was another job waiting. That’s how popular the group

8 was. So, if you will excuse me, I didn’t go through the problems that maybe some other groups had. I was just very fortunate; we were in demand, period. All the time. And I could have gone back to Bar Harbor maybe another summer but we were firmly entrenched in the Flame Cafe, which was such a fine home for us, for the size group I had. And it was exciting, backing up big names and being around fine artists, until the cowboys came in.

MAR: Were you a sextet then, at the Flame?

PCH: No, I was ten pieces until around 1955, about the last year and a half that I was at the Flame was when I had to cut down to a sextet. And that was fun too, I had a nice sextet book and it was well organized.

MAR: You mentioned that your band was pretty disciplined—that it would be pretty hard for you to be a carouser and carry the mail the next day. Was that a problem with other bands?

PCH: Well, individually—I wouldn’t say other bands. There may be a few members in some of the other bands. There has always been booze, you know, connected with entertainers. And I’ll have to be very honest I didn’t know a thing about dope. I was accused of it once, and I was so frightened and irate later, and oh, what will this do to my mom and dad, so that I went down to the Narcotics Bureau and I told them, I confronted them, because Societythey had contacted the owner at the Flame. And he came up to me all gruff and mad, and I knew that the next move was that I’m out of there. So, after the fright I went down there and I made them realize that it wasn’t me. Then they brought out some photos and what-not and showed me this person that was calling himself Percy and was giving dope to some young people. So that set me on a good course, [laughter] as far as having any one around me involved with dope.

But I know—who am I kidding—now, but this Historicalis the truth—I didn’t know about dope. And when I was at the Flame—let’s see how old was I, I was going on thirty, about thirty—booze, sure I knew about booze, in moderation though. Remember all these years I was still involved in athletics, too. Yes, I preach you don’t need the sauce, you don’t need the dope. I do classroom things [University of Minnesota]—rather, I have been until my dear, dear friend, Professor Reginald Buckner passedthe away. Twin He used Cities to have me Oral over there History at least once Project a quarter, so I’d be over there maybe four or five times a year, and that was fielding questions, and playing, and I’d always say, “You don’t needMinnesota the sauce, you don’t need the dope. Enjoy life without it, you are not missing a thing.”

I rememberJazz [unclear] in—God bless him—he died of dope or something, but he was around town and he was in such bad shape when I was at the Flame that the union called me and told me, don’t let him on your bandstand. Now here is a man who had written so many fine compositions and played such great baritone saxophone with Woody Herman, and he was just out of it, just hanging on the edge. And I had to tell this man, whom I just idolized, “Hey, you can’t come on my bandstand.” That wasn’t easy. And shortly after that he died. You don’t need the dope.

MAR: Well, it certainly contributed to your longevity, I’m sure.

PCH: Yes.

9

MAR: You mentioned the musicians union. How powerful an organization was that?

PCH: The last decade I really don’t know, because I saw the guitar take over, the rock, and I don’t know just what to call it, the loud screeching guitar came in and non-union bands. And the club owners not going along with union rules and laws, and they’ve taken control of so many nightclubs. The union can’t do a thing about it evidently. So, I don’t know what to say, I have respect. I report and pay work dues, I don’t want to change my course. But I know a lot of fine musicians who have dropped out of the union and are still performing. I go this far: I try not to use any nonunion musicians; I’ll buy that, I don’t know, just because it’s a loyalty. But it’s flagrant. Guys with more gray hairs than me just dropped out of the union. They didn’t like the union not being able to keep nonunion music out of places. So, that’s the way it is now.

MAR: But in the era of the ‘40s and ‘50s it was a very strong?

PCH: Oh, very strong, very strong, maybe too strong. There were periods where it seemed more like a police state than anything else. I have to honestly say I saw a change as different officers got in there. But to begin with. . .I never had a problem, because, I won’t say the union ever threw any work at me, but, like I say, I was very fortunate I was always in demand. When I say I, I mean we. Society

MAR: Your band.

PCH: The band, because me by myself, believe me I know I would not—I don’t know, but you don’t do anything by yourself unless you are an Oscar Peterson pianist, then you don’t need anyone else. I’ve never seen a saxophone or a clarinetist just stand up and wow an audience by himself. Historical

MAR: Did you have to audition before the union before they accepted you?

PCH: Right, when I first joined the union. I thought that’s the correct way to keep out some phoneys—I believe in thethat. I rememberTwin Citiesthey asked Oralme to read History some music, Project which was no problem. My background was correct. I started out learning the instrument by reading music. So it didn’t frighten me at all. Minnesota

MAR: I’ve heard that some musicians tried to get around that by memorizing some pieces. Jazz in PCH: True. You know it’s kind of scary at the beginning dealing with the union. I won’t go any further than that. I don’t want to say anything that I might regret later. The union has always been good to me. Let’s leave it that way.

MAR: Okay.

PCH: Of course now, most always the board members are very close friends and guys I play with and used in my band. It’s neat.

10 MAR: We were talking about some of the places that you played in the ‘40s and in the ‘50s. Where did you play as time went on, after that period?

PCH: I left the Point Supper Club after seventeen years because it burned. That was in 1972. I went right into the Ambassador, and I stayed there nine and a half years, so that’s almost 1983. Since then I’ve played at the Chart House out in Lakeville. Oh boy, come on memory. I’ve been as busy as I want to be. I’ve joined Red Wolfe’s Echoes of Ellington Band. That’s my big romance in music, more so than my own—quartet, quintet, or trio, whatever. Basically my own Percy Hughes work now is quartet work. I play a string of Sundays at Richfield Legion Post, which I’m a member of, in their symphonic band. The Chart House and Myr Mar out of Garrison on Lake Mille Lacs, which is an important project f or me because I’m a teaching tennis pro, and I’ve had a tennis camp up there. I had my first one last year. I’m playing for people that I played for back in the ‘40s around Bar Harbor that have bought condos and townhouses in the Brainerd and Gull Lake area. They come over to Myr Mar whenever I’m listed to play there. So that’s a thrill.

My wife and I have a little trailer home on a lake only six miles from Myr Mar, so that’s kind of nice playing up in that area once again. I’m busy. Going back to 1983 and 1984, I started taking a lot of wedding receptions and doing some concerts, like the Twin Cities Jazz Society and the different jazz festivals around town like in Bloomington and Hopkins.Society I stay busy. Now I’m just trying to be a little more selective, because Red Wolfe’s Echoes of Ellington Band is really taking off—it’s very popular. And like I say, I portray the guy I listened and studied from, Johnny Hodges. So that’s my big romance now in music.

MAR: It must be rewarding after all these years to be part of a jazz community where you see people that you have kind of grown up with musically over the years. Historical PCH: Right, definitely, definitely. We had a big concert just two Thursday’s ago, titled “Two Hundred Plus Years of Jazz,” featuring four of us, where each of us has contributed fifty-plus years of jazz to the area, basically. And that was Red Wolfe, and Dick Norling, the bassist with Echoes of Ellington, and Al Closmore, the guitarist, banjoer, and myself. The place was packed, and what a thrill! On a theThursday Twin night, Citieswe had no ideaOral if we History were going to Project have forty people or what. And here the room was packed. That was very meaningful. We performed three different flavors of music. We had likeMinnesota an Echoes of Ellington, first, and then my quartet performed for an hour, and then we ended up with Red’s Port of Dixieland band, so three flavors of music.

MAR: HasJazz there beenin a star of jazz that’s been more popular in the Twin Cities over the years: Alexander Dixeland or...?

PCH: I call it mainstream, middle of the road, and that’s my forte—just playing the ‘30s and the ‘40s. Believe me, I’ve gone through the Cole training, the Charlie Parker, the Miles Davis. I have music upstairs that would sink a battleship. And as the things change, I’ve eliminated this style of music. You have to go with the time or you just sit home and watch TV. But I suddenly am able to play the things I’ve played all of my jazz career. You can play anything, and with proper taste, it’s going to be pleasing. I think the only out and out thing I cannot stand is screeching guitar, steel guitars, or whatever they are. I’m not too knowledgeable about some guitar playing,

11 and I’ve had some real neat guitarist, the Johnny Smith type of guitar. Like once again, I’ve been fortunate.

MAR: Is the Twin Cities a pretty good jazz town, all things considered?

PCH: I’d say so, I’m afraid right now we are going through another bad period where the clubs that have tried and are still trying to support you, I think they are losing. The Emporium of Jazz, it’s always shaky. The Artists Quarter seems to be holding their own. The musicians have had to make a lot of concessions to keep this going. I don’t want to delve into that either. And Bandana Square, I understand they are having problems. Fine Line, I don’t know exactly how they are holding on. I’m going to be on a concert there sometime after the first of the year. It is a nice room. I don’t know too many rooms that are selling jazz. It’s sad, because this Twin Cities area is loaded with great jazz musicians, really. Many, many reed men, oh so many, but one of my most favorite reed men in town is—for being able to play so many of the reed instruments— Davey Karr. He’s one of my big favorites. Tenor saxophonist, I’d have to say Irv Williams, whom you are aware of. That’s another thing I’m so happy with playingSociety with Red Wolfe’s Echoes of Ellington, I double four horns. I double the baritone sax, the soprano sax, and the alto, and the clarinet. So I think that’s what it’s all about. Stay on the horns, thank you Normandale Junior College.

MAR: Keeps you on the clarinet, doesn’t it? Historical PCH: Right. Right.

MAR: You’ve played jazz in the Twin Cities, now for fifty years. Are there some reflections on your career, some things that you think about? the Twin Cities Oral History Project PCH: Well, sometimes I find myself wondering where I would have gone if I had made that tour backing up Peggy Lee. I hadMinnesota a chance to be a house band at one of the big hotels in Vegas. And like I say, I passed up both of those opportunities. I don’t know, I would have to say I’m completely happy with my years in jazz. If I had to go to the casket tomorrow, I’d go with a smile. Like,Jazz I tell myin wife and children, make sure I’ve got a good reed and a mouthpiece in there with me. No, I have no regrets, none whatsoever. It’s all been good for me.

MAR: Thank you, Mr. Hughes.

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