ART FARMER NEA Jazz Master (1999)
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Funding for the Smithsonian Jazz Oral History Program NEA Jazz Master interview was provided by the National Endowment for the Arts. ART FARMER NEA Jazz Master (1999) Interviewee: Art Farmer (August 21, 1928 – October 4, 1999) Interviewer: Dr. Anthony Brown Dates: June 29-30, 1995 Repository: Archives Center, National Museum of American History Description: Transcript, 96 pp. Brown: Today is June 29, 1995. This is the Jazz Oral History Program interview for the Smithsonian Institution with Art Farmer in one of his homes, at least his New York based apartment, conducted by Anthony Brown. Mr. Farmer, if I can call you Art, would you please state your full name? Farmer: My full name is Arthur Stewart Farmer. Brown: And your date and place of birth? Farmer: The date of birth is August 21, 1928, and I was born in a town called Council Bluffs, Iowa. Brown: What is that near? Farmer: It across the Mississippi River from Omaha. It’s like a suburb of Omaha. Brown: Do you know the circumstances that brought your family there? Farmer: No idea. In fact, when my brother and I were four years old, we moved Arizona. Brown: Could you talk about Addison please? Farmer: Addison, yes well, we were twin brothers. I was born one hour in front of him, and he was larger than me, a bit. And we were very close. For additional information contact the Archives Center at 202.633.3270 or [email protected] 1 Brown: So, you were fraternal twins? As opposed to identical twins? Farmer: Yes. Right. Brown: Could you state your mother and father’s names? Farmer: My mother’s name was Hazel and her maiden name was Stewart. My father’s name was James Arthur. Brown: Is that S-T-E-W-A-R-T? Farmer: Yes. Brown: And that’s the same spelling for your middle name? Farmer: Right. Brown: Were you the oldest children of this marriage? Farmer: Yes, I have a sister who still lives in Arizona by the name of Mauvalene Thomas, and she’s two years younger than I am. That would make her 64. I have a half-sister in Los Angeles. We share the same father, so that’s why she’s our half sister. And that’s the closest family I have. Brown: Do you have any recollections of your upbringing in Iowa? Farmer: [chuckles] Not really, ‘cause I was so young. When we moved, I was four. The recollections are like playing with the babysitter or something like that when I was just a little kid. Brown: What were the occupations of your mother and father? Farmer: My father died in an accident. He was working in some kind of a steel foundry in Omaha, and there was some accident there, and he burnt and died a few days later. My mother worked as a… what’s it called? Those people that fix feet. Brown: A podiatrist? Farmer: Yes, right. That’s where she worked. Brown: So, she was a medical doctor? For additional information contact the Archives Center at 202.633.3270 or [email protected] 2 Farmer: No, I mean like, not as a doctor, but someone who takes corns and calluses off the feet. Not a doctor. She also worked as a teacher’s help when we moved to Arizona. Brown: What precipitated the move to Arizona? Farmer: My mother and my father separated, and my grandmother was suffering from some kind of sickness like asthma or something like that, and she was advised to go out West where it’s very dry, for some reason, so we moved up there, moved to Phoenix. Brown: When you say “we” that’s at that time…? Farmer: That’s my mother, my grandfather, my grandmother, my brother and my sister and I. Brown: So, this constituted the family that you grew up in? Farmer: Yes. Brown: What were the names of your grandparents? Farmer: My grandfather’s name was Abner Stewart, and my grandmother’s name was Mattie, until they got married of course. And my grandmother, her mother was Indian. Brown: Which tribe? Farmer: I’m not sure. I would just make a guess, but I have no real foundation to say. Brown: ‘Cause in the previous interviews, you’ve claimed Blackfoot. Farmer: Yeah, I’ve said that. It seems like I heard that somewhere, but I don’t have any documentation for that, really. All I know is that the way the story came down to me was that my grandmother’s mother was a member of an Indian tribe, and she was so mistreated by the white people, that she went with the black people. And that’s the way everything started. Brown: What did your grandparents do? What were their occupations? Farmer: My grandfather on my mother’s side was a minister in the AME church, and my grandmother named Mattie, she was like a teacher. So I heard, she was the first black woman to get a degree in Iowa. Brown: Is that a college degree? Farmer: Yeah, it wasn’t called college, it was called normal school. For additional information contact the Archives Center at 202.633.3270 or [email protected] 3 Brown: [chuckles] Okay. Farmer: [chuckles] Yeah, okay. Brown: So, perhaps you can talk about your earliest recollections in Arizona. What town? Was it in Phoenix? Farmer: Phoenix, Arizona. Brown: So, you were in the city? I guess it was a city by then. Farmer: Yes, well, it was sort of a town. It was a nice little town. I remember the town, Phoenix, at that time had wooden sidewalks in the center of the city, like where the jail and the courthouse and all of that was. Wooden sidewalks just like in Western movies. It was a peaceful place. Like I said, we moved out there when we were four years old, and you could still see Indians walking around. They would come to town from the reservation, and they had a certain attitude about property. They would come by, and if they felt like sitting down, they would sit down right on your doorstep. They figured, well, everything is free, nobody owns anything. That’s the way they felt about land. Brown: Did you talk to them? Farmer: No. Brown: Any interactions with them? Farmer: No, I had no relations, but I remember when we were in high school, this was in the 40s, the schools were segregated. So, we went to the black high school, and we liked playing football, but we got the hand-me-down uniforms from the white school. We couldn’t play football against the white school. We played football against the Indians, and they were like, most of them were grown men [chuckles]. And the playing field was like a field that had previously been a cotton field, so it had stalks sticking up from the ground. So, like, if you get tackled, you’ll hit the ground, those stalks will tear you up. That’s the way we grew up there. It was like in the South. Brown: A very conspicuously segregated society? Farmer: Yeah, I wouldn’t say intentionally conspicuous, but that’s the way it was. Like if you wanted to go to a movie, you had to sit in a certain section in the balcony, what we called the “crow’s nest.” If the movie didn’t have that section, then you just didn’t go in there. Brown: How large was the black population in Phoenix? For additional information contact the Archives Center at 202.633.3270 or [email protected] 4 Farmer: At this time, it wasn’t very large, but I couldn’t give you any number that had any meaning. Brown: Was it separated white, black and Indian? Farmer: Yeah, basically the segregation was white, black, Indian and Mexican. The Mexicans went to the same school that the whites went to, and the Indians had their own school on the reservation. So, we had our school, like Booker T. Washington Grammar School and George Carver High School. Brown: And were the teachers in the school black? Farmer: Yes, they were all black. Brown: So it was a black run school? Farmer: Yes, black teachers, black principal. The first white teacher that I ever saw was a lady that used to come by the grammar school to give piano lessons once a week. She was very nice. Brown: Was the black community a close-knit community? Farmer: Close, yes. Brown: It was? So, you knew basically everyone? Farmer: It was based around the church, as usual. Brown: And your grandfather was…? Farmer: He was a minister. We moved out there because he had been assigned to a church there. Brown: And where did you live? Farmer: We lived in the parsonage. The parsonage is always next door to the church. We lived there until he died. After we had been out there for three or four years, he died. Brown: If you left when you were four, it was when you were seven or eight? Farmer: Yes, right. Brown: So, essentially, the head of the household became your grandmother? For additional information contact the Archives Center at 202.633.3270 or [email protected] 5 Farmer: Yes, my grandmother. Brown: Did this have an adverse impact on your livelihood at that point? Farmer: I don’t know. No, because I was still very young. When he died, I was like six or seven, less than ten years old anyway, so I wasn’t doing anything but getting up and going to school.