More great stuff from the magazine archives!

My previous post concerned the exciting discovery of a searchable online archive for Record World, during its time one of the three primary U.S. weekly music industry trade publications.

 

In my delight over focusing on Record World entries related to Guaraldi, I initially neglected to investigate more about the host site: worldradiohistory.com

 

Oh. My. Goodness.

 

Record World is just one of dozens of magazines and journals offered with similarly searchable archives; you’ll find the list here.

 

Alternatively, clicking on the “Music Magazines” button, along the top row, will open a sub-menu allowing quick access to a given magazine’s entire archive.

 

The depth and scope of this site are simply jaw-dropping.

 

It remains a work in progress; some archives aren’t complete, and occasional issues have missing pages. But it’s still astonishing.

 

Having thoroughly examined Record World, I subsequently turned my attention to Billboard, Cash Box and Down Beat (as it was known, in the early days). 

 

Billboard began publishing in 1894. The entries are spotty until 1936, after which each year is pretty much complete. (Most crucially, it’s much easier — and more reliable — to search here, than in the Google Books Billboard archives, which return only some hits for a given search term.)

 

Cash Box ran from 1942 to 1996, and its archive is solid.

 

Down Beat, which debuted in 1934, is the most haphazard. 1934-36, 1938 and 1963 are entirely (or mostly) missing, and the entries are thin in 1971-77, and 1979-83.

 

All three magazines yielded plenty of fresh information about Guaraldi. I was particularly pleased by bits and bobs in the early 1950s, a period where information about his activities is quite scarce.

 

That said, the absence of 1963 in the Down Beat archive was vexing, since that was a busy year for him. Additionally, several of the Down Beat entries are weeks — even months — out of date, in terms of the information presented, which also is frustrating.

 

Some highlights:

 

• Thanks to Down Beat, I now have this earliest known photo (by far!) of Guaraldi performing with a combo. The quality isn’t terrific, but that’s him at far left. Until now, I was aware of Guaraldi performing with this quartet solely in the spring of 1951, but this photo ran in the November 16, 1951, issue. That’s intriguing, because Guaraldi had joined Cal Tjader’s trio as of mid-September. Was he simultaneously moonlighting with Chuck Travis? Unlikely, as the schedule with Tjader was full. But Guaraldi’s activities were sparse for most of 1951, until he joined Tjader, so it’s entirely possible that the gig with Travis was off and on throughout the summer. (Regardless, this Down Beat photo and caption obviously ran months after Guaraldi had left Travis.)

• This gig was new to me: On March 9, 1955, Down Beat reported that “Jerry Dodgion now leading the house band at the Black Hawk [sic], with Dottie Grae on drums, Dean Riley [sic], bass, and Vince Guaraldi, piano.” (Dodgion was part of the Guaraldi Quartet, with a different bassist and drummer, on Modern Music from San Francisco, recorded in August of the same year.)

 

• On December 28, 1955, Down Beat reported that “Vince Guaraldi drawing a lot of comment for his piano playing these nights at hungry i.”

 

• On March 7, 1956, Down Beat gave a thorough review of the Woody Herman band’s performance at New York’s Basin Street. (Guaraldi had joined Herman’s band the previous New Year’s Eve.) The lengthy piece includes this comment: “In the rhythm section, Woody has a find in pianist Vince Guaraldi, a San Franciscan recommended by Ralph Gleason. Guaraldi plays with rare economy of means, much warmth and taste, an excellent beat, and a real feeling for the blues vein in jazz.”

 

• Billboard gave a very nice review of Guaraldi’s first album, Vince Guaraldi Trio, on September 29, 1956: “Altho sales are unlikely to be spectacular, this is one of the pleasant surprises of the month. Guaraldi is a young San Francisco pianist who has been getting rave notices with the Woody Herman band. Evidence here says he’s a tasteful, authoritative and facile modernist, and that he swings. Further, he has a sense of humor. Guitarist Eddie Duran and bassist Dean Reilly are worthy colleagues. Try their version of John Lewis’ ‘Django’ for a real delight.”

 

• On May 2, 1957, Down Beat reviewed Introducing Gus Mancuso; Guaraldi performed on three of that album’s tracks. The review includes this comment: “Guaraldi is a particularly stimulating soloist (and isn’t it time for another LP by him?)” And, indeed, Guaraldi next album, A Flower Is a Lovesome Thing, arrived a few months later.

 

• On February 19, 1959, Down Beat reported that “Pianist Vince Guaraldi, scheduled to leave the Cal Tjader Quartet this month, is planning a musical partnership with drummer Johnny Markham and bassist John Mosher.” Guaraldi actually split with Tjader on January 18 or 19, and his next known booking followed immediately: at Lenny’s, in Oakland, every Tuesday evening, as part of tenor saxman Harold Wylie’s Quartet, alongside Markham and bassist Jerry Goode. I’ve no evidence that Guaraldi ever headed a trio with Markham and Mosher.

 

• Billboard noted the rising interest in Guaraldi’s Black Orpheus album on December 15, 1962: “Vince Guaraldi on San Francisco’s Fantasy label is grabbing solid sales action. Jazz Impressions of Black Orpheus has gone over 7,000 in album sales within six weeks, and is spreading to other areas. The single ‘Cast Your Fate to the Winds' [sic], a segment of the album, started in Sacramento, spread to all of Northern California with 10,000 discs out, and is now moving strongly in Southern California.”

• Fantasy ran a cute ad in Cash Box, on February 2, 1963; check it out at right. (Note Fantasy's address: As I’ve said elsewhere, it’s Treat Avenue, not Street!)

 

• On June 8, 1963, Cash Box tagged the Guaraldi Quintet single “Zelao”/“Jitterbug Waltz” — from the album In Person — as a Best Bet: “Vince Guaraldi, who scored last time out with ‘Cast Your Fate to the Winds’ [sic], could duplicate that success with this top-flight bossa nova follow-up stanza. The tune is a contagious, easy-going lyrical ballad with a danceable, rapidly-changing beat.”

 

• On September 18, 1965, Billboard noted that Guaraldi’s single, “Theme to Grace” — taken from the Grace Cathedral Jazz Mass LP — was “predicted to reach the Hot 100 Chart.” (Alas, it didn’t happen.)

 

• On August 6, 1966, Cash Box tagged Shelby Flint’s vocal cover of “Cast Your Fate to the Wind” — on a single backed by “The Lilly” — as a Best Bet: “Shelby Flint could make lots of playlists with this sweet, lyrical reading of this oft cut ditty. The lark does a smooth, lilting job on the tender lyric. Watch closely.” (Indeed, her single made Billboard’s Top 100 chart for six weeks, peaking at No. 61.)

• Finally, this was an eye-opener: Guaraldi’s first album for Warners, Oh Good Grief, made Billboard’s Best Selling Jazz LPs chart for two consecutive weeks, on June 29 and July 6, 1968. He’s at the bottom of the chart both times … but that’s still charting! 

Playboy visits San Franciso ... back in the day

This post has very little to do with Guaraldi himself, but it does concern his San Francisco environment, and specifically many of the jazz clubs where he performed.

During the first decade and change after its debut issue in December 1953, Playboy magazine ran an occasional “On the Town” feature designed as a “cosmopolitan’s guide” to national and international cities — Paris, Tokyo, New York, London and others — that were becoming accessible to the publication’s upwardly mobile male subscribers, thanks to the rapidly expanding network of airline travel. The June 1958 issue was highlighted by a lengthy focus on San Francisco: where (and how) to lodge, dine, drink and be entertained. 

 

Since Hugh Hefner was an avid fan of mainstream and progressive jazz, the exhaustive article included a generous coverage of Baghdad-by-the-Bay’s then boisterous nighttime jazz scene. (The action probably was richer and more extensive right then, than at any other point in time; many of the clubs cited would close, change hands or go bankrupt within the next few years.)

 

Although the article makes fascinating reading as a time capsule, one must, ah, tolerate the wincingly archaic “dating tips” sprinkled throughout, such as…

 

[San Francisco] is a place of beautiful women, characterized (more than in any other city) by independence, good jobs, a friendly love of pleasure, hideaway apartments of their own, unpretentious poise, and an utterly charming knowledge of how to dress and behave, to please a man.

 

…and…

 

Your first stop, preferably just before sunset, should be the Mark Hopkins, up at the glass-enclosed Top o’ the Mark. Relax, have yourself a drink, take time to watch the sunset, and get the feel of the city here. Many a San Francisco visitor settles for the first girl he meets — only to rue it later, when finer prospects cross his path.

 

(Ouch!)

 

Further along, having offered suggestions for the best dining and dancing, we finally come to the late-evening options. I’ve extracted those with a strong — or even fleeting — connection to Guaraldi’s career, at that moment or soon to occur:

 

…

Dean Reilly: Gentleman bassist

Damn, we just lost another one: the final member of Guaraldi's original trio.

Dean left us a week ago Tuesday, March 9, at the youthful age of 94: the same age as Eddie Duran, who we lost back in November 2019. And, like Eddie, Dean kept performing almost to the very end. Unlike Eddie, who had only a guitar to keep track of, Dean was famous for lugging his massive double bass from car to stage (and back again, at the end of a gig).

They met in the early 1950s, because Dean "stalked" Eddie.

"I saw a guy with a guitar case going into an apartment across the street," Dean told me, during one of our many chats in 2010, "and I waited for him, and introduced myself. And it went from there."

Eddie, in turn, introduced Dean to Vince; the friendship blossomed to include all three. Their casual "garage band" sessions turned serious with an offer from Enrico Banducci in 1954.

"I was jamming with Eddie," Dean explained, "and somehow Vince got word that we could have a job at the hungry i, so we got together for that purpose."

The gig was all-consuming: six nights a week — Mondays were dark — and somewhat unscheduled, because of the club's intriguing layout and arrangements. "Name" acts — the Mort Sahls and Kingston Trios — were booked into the main showroom. It was separate and enclosed, with ticketed, theater-style seating and waiters who circulated and took drink orders. Guaraldi's trio played in the amusingly named "Other Room," actually the rear postion of an extended foyer/lounge area.

"We lived close by, but we drove separately," Dean continued, describing a typical evening. "It was a lot easier to park in those days. We'd start playing at 9 p.m. and continue until 1 a.m. The Other Room was where people lined up to go into the showroom. There were some bar stools, but people mostly stood in line, waiting for the show to begin; we played for their enjoyment, and to put them at ease.

"We were the frosting on the cake. We were on our own; we played what we felt like playing, when we felt like playing it. It was unbelievable, to be so loose. We'd call tunes among ourselves: standards, blues. We didn't have arrangements at first; the arrangements — key changes, that kind of thing — grew out of tunes we'd repeat over time."

This first "classic" Guaraldi Trio co-starred on Vince's first two Fantasy albums: The Vince Guaraldi Trio and A  Flower Is a Lovesome Thing. There was no drummer; as with the Nat King Cole Trio, the set-up was piano, guitar and bass. Dean easily "covered" for the absent drummer.

As you'll read in this lovely San Francisco Chronicle obit, Dean went on to perform alongside just about everybody you could think of.

As mentioned in my post on Eddie, linked above, my fondest personal memory of Dean came early in the summer of 2012. The Gods smiled upon me; I was able to hire him, Eddie, drummer Colin Bailey and pianist Jim Martinez for a performance at that year’s Beaglefest (an annual convention for fans of Charles M. Schulz and Peanuts). It was a fabulous reunion and blending of Guaraldi's two early trios: an evening of magic.

Godspeed, Dean. Heaven's massive jazz band just got a lot more swing.

Eddie Duran: Guitar maestro

My fondest personal memory of jazz guitarist Eddie Duran came early in the summer of 2012. The Gods smiled upon me; I was able to hire him, drummer Colin Bailey, bassist Dean Reilly and pianist Jim Martinez for a performance at that year’s Beaglefest (an annual convention for fans of Charles M. Schulz and Peanuts).

Eddie Duran, "in the moment" during a private concert
June 30, 2012. (The arm at upper left belongs to
drummer Colin Bailey.)

It was a reunion of Vince Guaraldi’s former sidemen, from his “classic” early trios: Eddie and Dean, at Vince’s side for a lengthy gig at San Francisco’s hungry i nightclub, and while recording his first two Fantasy Records albums; and Colin, who with bassist Monty Budwig put Vince on the map with the release of 1962’s Jazz Impressions of Black Orpheus and its breakout single, “Cast Your Fate to the Wind.” Jim, the (comparatively) young pianist who stood in for Vince that evening, likely couldn’t believe his good fortune. The appreciative audience definitely couldn’t believe it, as this quartet — never before having performed together, or even rehearsed — breezily powered through a couple hours of Guaraldi jazz classics. (Including, of course, plenty of Peanuts melodies.)

The three Guaraldi veterans were the epitome of graciousness. They joined us earlier in the evening for a banquet dinner, sitting at different tables in order to interact with as many attendees as possible. Once they started playing, a few hours later, they were wholly in the groove. As one would expect, distinct personalities emerged; Colin and Dean, all smiles, were quick with an occasional quip between — and sometimes even during — numbers. But Eddie was all business. his gaze was wholly absorbed by his guitar, particularly during his positively magical solos.

Several years earlier, he’d been one of my favorite interview subjects, while assembling the wealth of material for my Guaraldi biography. Eddie had a terrific memory for detail, and he vividly painted “word picture” descriptions of the hungry i environment, and the hilariously Spartan, spit-and-bailing-wire simplicity of the Fantasy recording sessions, circa mid-1950s. “[The first album] was recorded in the garage of a building south of Market. They didn’t do any extensive preparation for sound-proofing; it was just a bare garage … although they did spread some carpets on the floor.”

Eddie spun wonderful anecdotes about club gigs with Vince, several of which were much too coarse to have made it into my book. (I rapidly came to the conclusion that jazz musicians tell the best stories … and also the filthiest!) Eddie enjoyed a remarkably prolific career, with and beyond Vince, as this San Francisco Chronicle article recounts briefly. (Additional details, although still woefully incomplete, can be found at Wikipedia.)

Eddie was lucky enough to make a successful career out of doing what he loved, and he maintained a performance schedule right up to the very end. We lost him November 22, 94 years young. I like to think this was merely a change of venue, and that — somewhere, somehow — he has been reunited with Vince, and they’re both enjoying the most amazing jam sessions with all manner of other jazz cats.

Loss of Faith

Sad news from San Francisco.

Faith Winthrop played a major role in Guaraldi's early career, working at his side for much of 1955 at the famed hungry i nightclub. She continued to perform during a long and successful career, and her memory was remarkably vivid when she graciously provided a lengthy interview during my book's research phase.

The San Francisco Chronicle honored her with a generous obituary, reprinted here in full:

***********

Faith Winthrop, jazz singer who founded Glide community choir, dies at 87

by Aidin Vaziri
July 10, 2019

Faith Winthrop, the jazz vocalist who founded Glide Memorial Church’s community gospel choir and mentored Bay Area luminaries such as Ledisi, Lavay Smith and Paula West, died on July 1 in San Francisco. She was 87.

Her death was confirmed by Erika Lenkert, her daughter, who said the cause was complications from what was expected to be a simple surgery.

Winthrop moved in the mid-1950s from her native Massachusetts to San Francisco, where the classically trained singer established herself on the city’s vibrant club scene. She worked as the house singer at the hungry i in North Beach, where she warmed up audiences for up-and-coming stars like Woody Allen, Barbra Streisand and Mort Sahl. Her backing band included pianist Vince Guaraldi, guitarist Eddie Duran and bassist Dean Reilly.

Known for her silky voice and dramatic vocal interpretations of the standards, Winthrop was dubbed “San Francisco’s grand dame of song” by Philip Elwood, the music critic for the Examiner. She performed at venerable jazz institutions like the London House and Mister Kelly’s in Chicago, and the Blue Angel and Village Vanguard in New York. She made her television debut on the Today Show, before deciding to settle down in San Francisco to start a family with Hans Lenkert, with whom she had a brief relationship.

Winthrop worked as a faculty member in the music department at Mills College in Oakland, the Jazz School in Berkeley and the San Francisco Conservatory of Music. She also taught private lessons out of her homes in the Haight and Cole Valley, tutoring everyone from pop singers like Al Jarreau and Romeo Void’s Debora Iyall to screen stars like Divine and Keanu Reeves.

In 1966, Winthrop became the founding director of the Glide Ensemble, the community choir at the Rev. Cecil Williams’ Glide Memorial Church in the Tenderloin.

In the 1970s, Winthrop joined the Sometime Sondheim Singers performance group. Erika Lenkert, an author and former writer for The Chronicle, recalled sitting under the piano at their Cannery performance space and singing along to her songs.

“My mother was a very spiritual person who lived in gratitude and wonder,” Lenkert said. “She had an incredible ability to help people find and embrace themselves just as they are. She passed away the same way she lived life: surrounded by loved ones, music and song.”

Faith Winthrop was born in Boston on Nov. 18, 1931, to Russian immigrants Sarah Kaplan and Maurice Winthrop.

In the early 1950s, she moved to the West Coast, where she lived in a cottage in Malibu, owned by Mickey Rooney, and scored a record deal. She eventually made her way to San Francisco, living for a brief spell on a houseboat in Sausalito.

Winthrop released a pair of albums featuring standards and original material, 1993’s A Leap of Faith and 2007’s Havin’ Myself a Time!

Winthrop often recounted the tale of meeting Billie Holiday at George Wein’s Storyville Club in Boston in her early years as a performer.

“I was singing ‘Lover Man’ while they adjusted the mikes and lights, and in walked Billie holding her two Chihuahuas,” Winthrop said. “I saw her, stumbled through the song, and she came up and said, ‘Sing the song, girl, sing it!’ and I nearly collapsed, but I did finish it.”

In 2016, Winthrop moved to a retirement community in Mill Valley, where she taught voice lessons to fellow residents and her 13-year-old granddaughter, Viva Wertz.

Until her death, Winthrop performed twice monthly at Fior d’Italia restaurant in the city.

Lenkert is planning a celebration of life event for September. Details will follow and will be posted on her Facebook page.

Winthrop is survived by her daughter, Erika Lenkert, and granddaughter, Viva Wertz.

You're a picture LP, Charlie Brown

Fantasy/Concord surprises us this week with the release of a vinyl version of last summer's CD compilation, Peanuts Greatest Hits (discussed in greater detail in this previous post). Ah, but this isn't just any LP; it's a gorgeous picture disc with a smiling Charlie Brown on one side, and an equally (atypically?) cheerful Lucy on the flip side.

You can see the album in action — literally — during this YouTube promotional video. Note, as well, that the disc is being played on Crosley's Peanuts "Cruiser" Record Store Day Turntable, released back in late 2014 (but still available via Amazon and other outlets, if it slipped past your radar).

As one final bonus, Rock Father Magazine is giving away one of these picture LPs via an online raffle. A bit of registration is required, and entrants also need to cite their "favorite record of all time." (One wonders if responders who mention a Guaraldi album will get preferred scrutiny.) As these words are typed, the contest continues for only 11 more days, so if you're interested, don't delay!

But if you'd rather not wait, and/or don't fancy your chances in the raffle, of course you can purchase the picture disc right away, via Amazon.

********

Speaking of LPs, I just caught up with celebrated comedian Dick Gregory's East & West, released back in November 1961, just as his star was rising. The album has been available on CD for quite a few years at this point, and it's an important listen for several reasons.

Guaraldi shared a stage with Gregory numerous times, most famously during a nationwide college and university tour that began at Sacramento State University on October 23, 1963, and was scheduled to conclude at Detroit University on November 23. It didn't work out that way, thanks to an assassin in Dallas, Texas; the tour was cut short.

Gregory was already quite famous by the time this tour was put together, and East & West features two of his earliest sets, both from 1961: the first at the Blue Angel in New York City; and the second during his debut at San Francisco's hungry i. The precise recording dates aren't given, but it's known that Gregory did a lengthy stint at the hungry i during the summer of 1961. Since he mentions Soviet cosmonaut Gherman Titov's Earth orbit as a recent event — and it took place on August 6, 1961 — we can assume that this set was recorded either August 7 or 14, as hungry i bookings (at that time) usually began on Monday evenings.

Gregory touches on numerous other topics, such as airline hijackings; he also playfully disses San Francisco and, toward the end of the set, fantasizes about what he'd do if elected President of the United States (a particularly pointed segment, all these years later).

But the best part comes toward the beginning, when Gregory takes a lengthy poke at the hungry i itself, mere minutes after having been introduced by club owner Enrico Banducci:

Ain't no place in the world like this crummy joint. This is a weird place ... this is a basement! Three dollars a head they charge you, to get in a basement. I bet you don't go in your own basement for free, at home! You should see this joint when the fog lifts: no second floor! This is what you would call an 86-proof Disneyland. You ever been to a nightclub with no tables? Ain't this weird? It's sorta like drinking in church!

But they have to have joints like this in San Francisco, to bring tourists in. A lotta people come here, just for these types of places. Sorta like a nice place you'd like to visit, but you wouldn't want in your own neighborhood...

Given what I heard about the hungry i from the numerous musicians I interviewed, it sounds like Gregory really nailed it...!

Yankee Songbird

My wife and I spent an enjoyable few hours Wednesday afternoon, at San Francisco's St. Francis Yacht Club. The occasion was a lunchtime presentation by Medea Isphording Bern, author of the just-released photo memoir, San Francisco Jazz. (I discussed this book at length in a previous post.) Medea included us on her guest list, and I must say that the club prepares an impressive lunch spread. Her talk covered the background and creation of her book, accompanied by nifty PowerPoint highlights of the photographs within.

Although we arrived with the expectation of enjoying Medea's presentation, the event delivered an unexpected bonus. We were seated next to veteran jazz chanteuse Pat Yankee, 87 years young, who has mischievous eyes and an impressive memory for details stretching back more than half a century. (That's Pat on the cover of Medea's book, by the way, in an award-winning 1962 publicity shot by photographer Emilie Romaine.)

Medea, who knows of my interest in All Things Guaraldi, had orchestrated the seating arrangement for a reason; this became obvious the moment we were introduced to Pat.

"I knew Vince quite well," she said, "and he accompanied me once."

Do tell, I encouraged her.

"This was when I was working at Goman's Gay '90s, which would have been from about 1952 to '56," she continued, settling into the story.

[Goman's Gay '90s operated from 1941 to 1967, initially at 555 Pacific Avenue, in the old Barbary Coast. In 1956, the club moved to 345 Broadway, where it remained until it closed.]

"Everybody knew everybody back then. Enrico Banducci — he owned the hungry i, you know — he had a television show at the time. This was when the Keanes had all their paintings up in the little gallery room. Vince had his piano there, and he'd be playing when people came out of the big room."

[That would be Margaret and Walter Keane, who became famous in the late 1950s and '60s for her wildly popular paintings of wide-eyed, often gloomy-faced children; they're the subjects of Tim Burton's recent film Big Eyes.]

"Enrico used this space for his television show. He'd interview people, before they performed something; he was quite a character. So he said, 'Come on over, and be on my television show.' So I did. And Vince played for me.

"Now, it wasn't Vince's thing to play something like 'A Good Man Is Hard to Find,' but he did, and he was just wonderful.

Current Events

Photo courtesy the Associated Press

A few Guaraldi-themed tidbits in the news...

The Rev. Canon Malcolm Boyd, the famed priest, author and activist who made quite a splash with his 1965 book of prayers, Are You Running with Me, Jesus?, died February 27, at the impressive age of 91.

Boyd was a hard-charging activist who never worried about whether his socio-political image would clash with his religious training; indeed, he cheerfully employed the latter to further all manner of causes in the realms of civil rights, gender equality and much more.

Early in his career, in the late 1950s and early '60s, he was a popular coffeehouse fixture who reached out to the era's poets and beatniks, earning the media label "the espresso priest." This eventually brought him to San Francisco, where his path crossed Guaraldi's on two notable occasions: first and most famously on May 21, 1965, when Boyd delivered the core sermon during the debut of Guaraldi's Jazz Mass at Grace Cathedral. Alas, Boyd's stirring oratory wasn't included on the album — Vince Guaraldi at Grace Cathedral — that Fantasy subsequently released.

That said, the original Fantasy LP, released in September 1965, was packaged with a printed copy of Boyd's sermon. (And here's a funny story: I wasn't aware of that until just a few days ago, when somebody mentioned that detail in passing. Curiosity prompted me to pull out my old LP, where — lo and behold — I did indeed find the single-fold "booklet." I'd never known it was there! All the many, many times I played that record, back in the pre-CD days, but the printed sermon never revealed itself by sliding out with the disc. And since I bought the LP used, probably at some point in the 1970s, it no longer had the wrapper which likely bore a sticker mentioning the inclusion of that document, and so I didn't know to look for it!)

Their second collaboration took place in September 1966, during the first week of what would become Boyd's month-long run at the hungry i. Activist comedian Dick Gregory was the headliner; Boyd shared the bill, "performing" his prayers/poems to musical accompaniment. His regular partner, guitarist Charlie Byrd, had a conflicting gig at El Matador the first week; Guaraldi is known to have stepped in for at least one night, and possibly for that entire week.

Boyd was famous enough to have earned lengthy obituaries in newspapers and media outlets throughout the country, but the best I've seen (by far) is this one, from the Episcopal News Service. It even mentions Guaraldi, if only in passing.

Boyd was a titan. My wife and I were fortunate to see him perform in person, in August 2010, when filmmakers Toby Gleason and Andrew Thomas screened their just-completed documentary, The Anatomy of Vince Guaraldi, at the second annual Sausalito Film Festival. The film was followed by Boyd, who — accompanied by a piano trio — re-created the beatnik-era style of jazz-inflected prayer and poetry that would have characterized that memorable month at the hungry i. As I wrote in my book's epilogue:

Audience members could close their eyes, lean back, let the experience wash over them, and imagine the intervening years melting away: imagine being transported back to 1966, in spirit if not body, to witness the birth of a new sort of prayerful protest movement.

Boyd clearly was moved by Gleason and Thomas' film: enough so that he made a point of introducing Thomas to Michael Battle, who had begun work on an authorized biography of Boyd, which was published in 2011 as Black Battle, White Knight. In that book, Battle reprints an e-mail that Boyd wrote, shortly after viewing The Anatomy of Vince Guaraldi for the first time. Excerpting the relevant portion of that note:

I realize the incredible impact of the Jazz Mass on my consciousness. More to the point, I can see its impact on Vince Guaraldi. ... For both of us, I think, we'd found a freshness, an innocence and simplicity, that would mark us indelibly. I look back at the event, collaborating with Vince, as a kind of magical moment. Two strangers met, exchanged a brief encounter on a great stage, and the gods seemed to smile or, at least, show friendliness.

After that, we went our own ways.

As it happens, Boyd has become Thomas' most recent project. The filmmaker is collaborating with author/scholar Mark Thompson on a documentary-in-progress titled Disturber of the Peace: The Many Lives of Malcolm Boyd. Additional information can be found at the film's web site.

We need more impassioned agitators like Boyd, but — as the saying goes — we'll not see his particular like again, any time soon.

******

On a happier (concert) note...

Our Canadian neighbors will have the opportunity to enjoy a Guaraldi program at 10:30 a.m. Friday, March 13, when pianist Duncan Cooper and his trio — John Beach, bass; and Chris Lingard, drums — present "A Tribute to Vince Guaraldi" at the John M. Parrott Art Gallery in Belleville, Ontario. The event apparently will be more than music, as Cooper also promises to discuss Guaraldi's life and career. Admission appears to be free; check here for details.

Down here in the States, veteran jazz pianist Larry Vuckovich, Guaraldi's one and only formal student (way back in the day!), will honor his mentor with a couple of concerts in the near future: a treat for those of us in California.

First up is "Larry Vuckovich's Vince Guaraldi Tribute Ensemble," performing at 8 p.m. Saturday, March 14, at the Piedmont Piano Company in Oakland. The set list will be familiar to those who've enjoyed Vuckovich's recent Guaraldi tributes, described in this earlier post. The band personnel have changed a bit: bassist Seward McCain has been replaced by Jeff Chambers, and drummer Leon Joyce Jr. is sitting in for Akira Tana. McCain's absence is unfortunate, since he also remains a direct link to Guaraldi, having been part of Dr. Funk's final band, back in the 1970s.

Ticket information and other details can be found here.

Later in the spring and down in Southern California, the Los Angeles Jazz Institute is presenting an ambitious, four-day tribute to jazz impresario Howard Rumsey, "Music for Lighthousekeeping." Rumsey, 97 years young, is best known for forming the ensemble that became known as the Lighthouse All-Stars, the house band at the eponymous Hermosa Beach restaurant/nightclub. The festival, taking place May 21-24 at Los Angeles' Sheraton Gateway hotel, will feature 26 concerts, rare films and special presentations.

The schedule is frankly stunning, in terms of the talent assembled for this long weekend, and must be seen to be believed; take a gander at this program.

Guaraldi fans will want to pay particular attention to "Concert 23," detailed at left, which features Vuckovich and his band.

But that's not the only Guaraldi element. Four short cinema events are scheduled throughout the weekend, all boasting "rare films from the L.A. Jazz Institute Archive." The May 23 screening, dubbed Mambo Las Vegas, makes a point of mentioning Guaraldi. I've no idea what those archive materials might be, although I'm trying to find out (and will share whatever I learn in this space).

A little of this, a little of that ... strikes again

Another round of short Guaraldiana bits...

Director Tim Burton's new film, Big Eyes, is a stylized biographical drama about the tempestuous relationship between Margaret and Walter Keane (played by Amy Adams and Christoph Waltz), the former best known for her pop-art paintings of small, wide-eyed children, which were quite the rage in the late 1950s and early '60s. The story's "hook" is the fact that Walter initially took credit for his wife's work: a ghastly artistic tussle that eventually climaxed in a famous courtroom trial ... all of which you can see in the film.

For our purposes here, though, Burton and production designer Rick Heinrichs are to be commended for re-creating Margaret's artistic origins with such authenticity. She was "discovered" in the 1950s at San Francisco's hungry i nightclub, where owner Enrico Banducci was approached by Walter, to use the venue as a gallery showcase for his new bride's work ... although patrons initially believed that they were Walter's paintings.

The film spends some time in a re-created hungry i, where at one point the Cal Tjader combo can be seen and heard performing in the background (actors portraying the musicians, of course). The club's exterior establishing shot, shown above, has an added bonus: signs that advertise the entertainment within, which accurately includes the Vince Guaraldi Trio and Faith Winthrop! (Click on the image for a larger view.)

The production team certainly did its homework ... because there aren't many sources that mention Guaraldi, Winthrop and the Keane paintings, all at the same time.

That said, the research wasn't perfect. A second Guaraldi "sighting" pops up further along in the film, as Amy Adams' Margaret Keane wanders into the club with one of her newest paintings. Look closely, toward the upper right of this darkened hallway, and you'll see a poster with Guaraldi's name and signature publicity pose. (Again, click on the image for a larger view.)

But — and this is a big "but" — that particular photo comes from Guaraldi's mid-1960s publicity kit, whereas this early portion of Burton's film still is in the mid- to late 1950s. 

Margaret Keane and her husband had parted company long before this photo of Guaraldi would have been circulating; during his hungry i days, he wasn't yet sporting his signature mustache, as shown in this photo with Winthrop, at right, which was taken in the famed club.

Indeed, Guaraldi made a point of growing his famous mustache, and then keeping it as part of his iconic appearance, because he looked so boyishly young without one (not a good thing for a jazz musician, at the time).

So ... Heinrichs deserves credit for finding what looks like an authentic, vintage Guaraldi publicity poster ... but it's the wrong decade. (Oh, well.)

*****

Further on the subject of San Francisco jazz clubs, I've exchanged several e-mails with a fellow fan named Edward, who remembers seeing Guaraldi perform at the Blackhawk — way back in the day — while being in the cramped, chicken wire "underage cage" that separated teens from the adults in the club proper, who were drinking alcohol while enjoying the show.

The Blackhawk's "underage cage" (photo courtesy of the San Francisco History Center)

"It was so abominably smokey, I could barely see him," Edward recalls, "let alone the issue of jostling for position at the screen. The cage was small: maybe about the size of a normal tract home bathroom, say 5-by-8 feet. Depending on how many other people were in there, it could be tight, and visibility was poor. I remember not staying long, because I hate cigarette smoke, especially in industrial-strength concentrations.

"The Blackhawk was on a corner, and to get into the cage, one had to walk up the side street and enter via an obscure door. The cage was above the club's floor level: a sort of balcony along the side of the club's long dimension.

"I wasn't underage; I would have been 22 or 23, and I likely learned about Vince from the Black Orpheus album. My date and I were in the cage because I had a tight student budget and didn't want to pay the club's cover charge!"

*****

Back in early December, I was contacted by an editor at Cuepoint, the "music hub" of Medium, a nifty new Internet site dedicated to long-form, magazine-style writing. With the approaching annual re-broadcast of A Charlie Brown Christmas, they asked if I'd be willing to supply an excerpt from my Guaraldi bio, focusing on the sequence of events that led to Dr. Funk being selected to write the music for that debut Peanuts TV special. As an added bonus, they were even willing to pay me for the effort.

Who could refuse? I agreed immediately, even though December is always an insanely busy month for me ... and, for obvious reasons, they wanted the finished piece very quickly. They offered to cherry-pick the contents of Chapter 10, but I wasn't having any of that. (I do my own editing, thank you!) The abridgment actually proved a bit more challenging that I had expected, because I wanted to come in under 3,000 words ... and it's a long chapter. But it was an interesting exercise, and I finished the work in five days; the draft then had to be approved by my publisher, McFarland, which maintains control over such things. They okayed it as written, so I passed it along to the folks at Medium, and it was published on December 16.

Those who have my book won't find anything new, of course, but I was delighted by the story layout, which included a vintage photo of director/producer Lee Mendelson, during the 1963 filming of his first documentary, A Man Named Mays. That photo was new to me, although the various photos of Guaraldi himself were familiar.

During the next several weeks, I received numerous e-mail notices that the story was "tracking" quite well: In the first 30 days, it generated 11,532 "views" (3,040 on December 18 alone), 2,288 "reads" and 132 recommendations. It has tapered off since then, although there was an interesting "viewing spike" on January 20-22. (Ah, social media ... such a mystery!) At any rate, Medium seems to feel these are worthy stats, so I rate the experience successful on both sides.

*****

And, finally...

Jazz pianist/singer Diana Krall has been making the media rounds to support her new album, Wallflower, and her corresponding concert tour. On February 4, she took over the Wall Street Journal's Speakeasy Facebook page to handle questions from fans. She wound up fielding 17 questions, on topics ranging from who cooks the best breakfast in their house (husband Elvis Costello, as it turns out), to the second-best thing she's good at, after singing. (You can visit the site to find the answer to that one.)

But I'm particularly delighted by Question 6, and her reply:

Is the late, great Vince Guaraldi an influence on your musical style?

Absolutely. Still is.

I'd love to know who posed that question!

The other Ella

Hang onto your hats, kids; this one's huge.

Guaraldi backed a number of female singers during the early stages of his career. He memorably accompanied Faith Winthrop when both were house musicians during 1954 and '55 at the hungry i. Several years later, after fresh stints with Cal Tjader and Woody Herman, Guaraldi once again commanded his own trio and became the house band at Palo Alto's new club, Outside at the Inside. From the spring of 1960 through early '61, Guaraldi and his trio would play their own sets and also back headlining singers such as Helen Humes, Toni Harper and his former hungry i colleague, Faith Winthrop. 

For two weeks during the summer of 1960, Guaraldi flew to New York and backed June Christie at the famed Basin Street East.

None of these sessions was recorded, nor did Guaraldi hit the studio with any of these singers. Indeed, until just a few weeks ago, I would have said — with confidence — that Guaraldi never had been recorded while backing a female vocalist.

Wrong, wrong, wrong.

Imagine my surprise, boys and girls, when a recent eBay auction featured an item that rocked my world: a Galaxy Records 45 starring vocalist Ella Jamerson, back by none other than the Vince Guaraldi Trio.

The single — Galaxy Records #724 — features Buddy Johnson's blues ballad "Since I Fell for You" on the A-side, and is backed by Victor Young and Edward Heyman's "When I Fall in Love" on the flip side. (Doris Day made the latter a pop hit in 1952.)

Okay ... so who's Ella Jamerson? How did she encounter Guaraldi, and where has this disc been all my life?

She was born November 13, 1931, in Rome, Georgia; she and her family moved to San Francisco's Daly City district when she was 9. She grew up singing in gospel choirs and choruses; as a young adult, she joined groups such as the Angelairs and the Inspirational Tones. The latter ensemble split up in 1961, at which point Ella put together her own group, with an eye toward performing in San Francisco-area nightclubs. This new group — The Apollos (note the final vowel) — became a fixture at the Sugar Hill, on Broadway; later, and quite notably, they shared billing and sang back-up for young Barbra Streisand, during a gig at the hungry i.

Considerable more detail about Jamerson and The Apollo(a)s can be found in this 2005 essay by Opal Louis Nations.

For our purposes, however, I'll note that Fantasy Records' Sol Weiss caught The Apollos during their hungry i appearance, and clearly was captivated by what he heard. At that point, the group was a quartet: Jamerson, Joanna Bosley, Hiram Walker and Ron Brown. As of the early 1960s, Fantasy's subsidiary Galaxy label had been moribund for a bit, having stalled after putting our four singles featuring Cal Tjader, and one featuring Vido Musso (Galaxy 701-705). As reported in Billboard on July 21, 1962, Weiss "reactivated its Galaxy subsid to showcase pop, folk, R&B and gospel talent." Artists signed included Saunders King, Johnny Lewis, the Holidays, the Playgirls and, yes, The Apollos. The latter were first out of the gate, cutting two singles: Galaxy 707, featuring "I Can't Believe It" and "Sometimes I Feel Like a Motherless Child"; and Galaxy 708, with "Say a Prayer" and "Lord, Lord, Lord." Sadly, despite a live stage delivery that was known to be electrifying, those 45s didn't do a thing for Fantasy/Galaxy or The Apollos.

But they eventually came to Guaraldi's attention, and he clearly liked what he heard. As for what came next ... well, let's allow Jamerson to continue the story, in her own words. Because yes; she's still with us, and I was overjoyed to chat with her on the phone a week ago.

"I was at Fantasy one day, and Sol told me that Vince was interested in me," she began, in a sparkling voice that remains crystal-clear, all these years later. "Sol said, 'You understand that this won't be a group thing, right? It's just you he's interested in.' That was so surprising, but what the heck? I didn't know Vince from Adam, and I'd never recorded as a soloist. But I said okay. So Sol introduced me to Vince, and I went to his home and met his mom, his wife and his two children. They were all very nice.

Guaraldi's career: Nailing down every event

The third disc of Stan Getz's four-CD set, The Bossa Nova Years, is playing as these words are typed: a languid, lovely reminder of the film Black Orpheus; the subsequent explosion of sensual, Latin-hued music in the U.S. pop world of the early 1960s; and the impact both had on Guaraldi's career. I'd love to have been in the adjacent seat, the first time he saw that film in a San Francisco movie theater. Ralph Gleason got the pianist to reflect on that seminal moment in the charming 1963 film, Anatomy of a Hit, but of course hindsight isn't the same as being present in the moment.

Guaraldi's life was filled with such moments, many of them taking place during otherwise ordinary gigs at greater Bay Area jazz clubs such as the Blackhawk, the hungry i, Outside at the Inside, the Trident and El Matador. One of my many "getting ready" exercises, while preparing the outline and itinerary that prefaced my plunge into the actual writing of my book, was an attempt to identify where he performed, and when, for as much of his life as possible. This began as a useful chronology; it quickly blossomed into an obsession. If I knew where he was for the first few weeks of, say, November 1968, I had to clock his movements for the rest of that month (which I was unable to do, alas).


I got lucky at times. Guaraldi's mother saved many things, such as the three-page itinerary of his 1956 winter and spring tour with Woody Herman's Third Herd; it wasn't complete, but ads in newspapers across the country helped fill many of the holes. Herman was a very popular draw; most of his band's performances were publicized.


The San Francisco Chronicle's entertainment section also was a blessing, as it listed who was appearing at every greater Bay Area club during the upcoming week. I had to be careful, though; I discovered that those bookings sometimes changed after the paper had gone to press, and that -- at other times -- careless reporters occasionally made mistakes. At times, a listing would claim one thing, but the given club's display ad -- on the same page! -- contained entirely different information. 


That phase of the research would have been much easier if the Chronicle -- and its companion paper, the San Francisco Examiner -- had entered the 21st century and made its archives available online. Alas, it seems the Chronicle and Examiner are destined to be the last big-city U.S. papers to make that transition (and they still haven't). The only option? The painful study, day by day, of the four or five pages of entertainment news via a microfilm reader. (My eyes are still crossed.)


The effort was worthwhile, though, because a portrait of Guaraldi's career began to take shape, which helped immensely during the subsequent construction of the book's narrative. But this was only the Bay Area: just part of the picture. Guaraldi toured a lot during the first 15 years of his career, whether on his own or as a member of units fronted by Woody Herman or Cal Tjader. I'd get occasional hits with respect to specific stops in larger markets, thanks to papers such as the Chicago Tribune, the Boston Globe, the Los Angeles Times and the New York Times (all of which do have online archives). Daily Variety, Variety and Billboard also were great help, and here's something I was delighted to discover: Google Books has made every single issue of Billboard available online, at no charge. What a Godsend!


The resulting timeline blossomed to a size and scope that outgrew the eventual destination for its data. Much of the information wound up between the covers of my book, but I didn't want the reader -- particularly the casual reader -- to drown in minutia. Ergo, much got left behind. But I also didn't want the information -- and the effort required to compile it -- to go to waste. Enter the Vince Guaraldi Timeline, a companion web page designed to complement Vince Guaraldi at the Piano. This web chronology contains everything I learned about Guaraldi's movements, along with who played at his side, when known. It's a "living" document; new information continues to surface all the time. 


Which leads to the obvious request: If you remember seeing Guaraldi perform at a particular venue, on a particular date, please get in touch. If you're one of Guaraldi's former sidemen, and you recall being with him at a particular gig -- note all the timeline entires with "sidemen unspecified" -- please get in touch. If you know of a gig I left out, absolutely get in touch. If you saved a poster from one of the many "group gigs" Guaraldi joined during his latter-career appearances at Bay Area rock and folk clubs, please get in touch. If you took pictures -- even ill-focused snapshots -- please get in touch. If you saved a souvenir program, or a newspaper ad such as the one at the top of this post, please get in touch. 


Despite the wealth of information in this document, many, many gaps remain ... all waiting to be filled.


Think of it as your contribution to history!