Collecting Jazz

The Jazz Record Collector is the craziest: he's happy to hock his last clean suit for a new hunk of wax and he's likely to go for broke over a dusty original featuring some early-day sideman like Dominick LaRocca. The wise collector buys his records when they are issued, of course – and this is usually a cinch when one is concerned with material in today's cooler idiom – but there are some of us who weren't around when Earl Hines was thumping the ivories for HRS and Armstrong's Hot Five was blowing Le Jazz for Okeh. To us befalls the task, albeit pleasant, of combing assorted junk shops, attics, antique stores and grandma's cobwebbed victrola cabinets, hoping to locate a cache, or else – and this is much more sensible and equally as satisfying – settling for reissues of the early classics, waxings readily obtainable at the corner music mart.

Collecting originals is slow, tedious, mostly unrewarding work. As a certain crew-cutted comic would say, you can't hardly get them kind no more. Once or twice a year somebody strikes it rich – Jack Stanley, a Twin Cities radio announcer, not too long ago stumbled onto 4000-odd waxings packed in orange crates and tucked away in the second floor of a neglected warehouse, the take including 200 mint copies of Red Nichols Brunswicks and Mole and Venuti Okehs; and Houstonian Claude Nave recently turned up half-a-dozen foreignlabel jazz classics in a Dallas loan shop, the number one item of the haul being Fletcher Henderson's immortal Fidgety Feet on the French Brunswick label – but, in general, undiscovered jazz sides are as scarce as motion pictures in 3-D and the fan who persists in ferreting them out invariably winds up with eyes akin to two air pockets in a cloudbank.

The fact that record firms – particularly the majors like Victor, Columbia, Decca, Mercury, Capitol and Coral – regularly delete discs from their catalogues is argument enough that platters should be bought as they appear. In the early 1940s I had a friend who took great sport in needling me about collecting jazz. One evening he barged into my diggings, bowed low, and handed me a new copy of Bob Crosby's Gin Mill Blues, pasquinading, "Stow that in your wax stacks, man, so that 25 years from now you won't be burning rubber, canvassing all the shops for a beat-up copy." Today, the swinging Bobcats long disbanded,it is necessary to pay a fancy premium for this record – if you can find it!

W. Cecil Trotwein, St. Louis discophile who specializes in Ellington and Waller platters, housing the works in a six-by-eight-foot five-tiered cabinet, says. "There was a time when a 'moldy fig' (pre-1940 wax enthusiast) like myself haunted the junk parlors, frantically accumulating vintage items like Bluebirds by the Johnny Dodds Trio and Gennetts by King Oliver's Creole Jazz Band. Everything had to be on original labels to be any good, so unless a cat had a bundle of jingle in his jeans he didn't acquire many records. But today, man, the average collector can get all this good ol' stuff on reissues, form the backbone of his collection, and add the new material as it comes out."

Cecil, who got his jazz indoctrination via Fate Marable and other steamboatin' bands, explains, "There are two basic kinds of jazz record fans, those who buy music and those who buy labels. Most of us are interested mainly in the music so I don't care if I get my Weary Blues on a 1927 Vocalion or a spankin" new Columbia LP. In fact, 1 prefer the LP because the reproduction is superior. The idea, man, is not to be a drag, like the cat who was a label collector. Only labels, that is. I don't know how he managed it, he either steamed off the labels or sawed them off from the grooved parts, but he had the best group of labels you've ever seen. No music, man, just those damn labels with holes in 'em."

Like the majority of today's collectors, Cecil concentrates on the more recent releases, paying special attention to groovings like the new Label X "Vault Originals." But aware that many jazz sides are yet to be reissued, he peruses the auction columns in the trade papers, too, grabbing up an oldie or three when the price is right.

"This is seldom the case," he laments."The gems of the 1920s have all but disappeared from the lists – now you mostly see the earlier small-label stuff of Thelonius Monk, Gillespie and Don Byas offered – so when an Oliver or a Jones and Collins dandy does happen to show, the competition is tough and the bidding high. Like I bought a cutting of East St. Louis Toodle-oo by Duke and his Kentucky Club gang off a recent list. Fine record, fine price. But a buddy of mine, a cube who just doesn't dig really swingin' wax, says I should've used the loot for a down payment on a new Caddy. Myself, man, I tool a Plymouth, but do I have the records!"

Fritz Oest is a jazz purist who made a haul during the war when given a pile of ancient Muggsy Spanier Bluebirds by a Dutch farmer in whose home Fritz's Army Engineer squad had established a command post. Fritz concurs with Trotwein: "Most jazz fans," he says, "when they start a collection, are concerned with the music on the record, not the color and printing of the label, and the music collectors get all the kicks. Either they collect jazz, period, or else they specialize in an instrument like, say, clarinet, or else an artist like maybe Sutton or Goodman or Parker, or often a particular sound like Dixieland or Chicago or progressive. Oh, they may have a few old originals – I do, but I'm lucky; I happened across a jazz-happy Dutchman with a private share-the-wealth plan – and, naturally, they get the new discs as they are released, but, all things considered, for a complete representative and historical collection, a new record fan must rely on reissues."

Reissues on LP constitute the groundsel of more than three-quarters of today's collections, and, says J. P. Kirkland, one of the West Coast's most avid discophiles, "Such items make it increasingly simple to put together a wellrounded collection." Kirkland has some 4000 discs, cross-indexed by file cards and numbers, and at least 10 per cent are long-play jobs. He prefers the longplay discs for many reasons: "They are easier to store, unbreakable, cheaper and easier to index; what's more, the tone quality is usually near-perfect."

Kirkland's suburban Los Angeles home is equipped with high-fidelity speakers in three rooms, a 100-record (mostly Bunk Johnson, Glenn Miller and Charlie Barnet sides) jukebox in the rathskeller, and a floor-to-ceiling platter library in the den. "But you don't plunk down money for such a setup until you're a confirmed jazz addict," he warns, "or until you strike oil and retire with a fixed income (which is exactly what Kirkland did!). My advice to the beginner is to concentrate on the newer discs, and to shop around for every kind of jazz record. Make up a representative library and don't specialize until you've examined all phases of jazz. And you may as well face facts: there are some discs you'll never get. Nick Rongetti's Spanier and Russell albums of a decade ago, for example. These became priceless right after pressing. Cut in an anteroom of Nick's Tavern – God, what a place when it was jumpin'; like the walls were going in and out! – those that were mailed out were so poorly packed that they were chipped or broken on arrival. If you have records like these, friend, you've an investment better than a diamond."

In gathering a collection, a neophyte will do well to employ one of the accepted discographies as a guide. Orin Blackstone's Index to Jazz is perhaps the most thorough, succinctly written in Orin's news-reporter style; Charles E. Smith's Jazz Record Book, which contains a 125-page jazz history, is likewise first-rate.

One of the most unusual jazz Baedekers is that published in Paris shortly before the liberation. This is the 1943 edition of the original Hot Discography, compiled and edited by Charles Delaunay while a member of the French underground. As would be expected, the printing is not of the best caliber, but the Delaunay notes and arrangement of material are flawless. For the collector interested primarily in pre-war releases this is a Parisian delight rivaling the Folies Bergere.

"It's smart to use a discography for reference, but let your personal tastes dictate your collection," advises Dave DeLane, one of southern Indiana's better known collectors. "Jazz is one helluva large category, spanning Dixie, boogie, blues, swing, bop, progressive and the newer, erudite modern sounds. To me, modern music is a fad, utilizing a harmonic structure that requires strict attention. It's jazz all right, but it's not basic and it'll pass. I like the older, happier music. It comes more from the heart than the head, and you can enjoy it without benefit of a college music appreciation course.

"In collecting, whether barrelhouse or modern, don't buy on hearsay evidence. You should hear the biscuit a few times, feel it. That's the thing with jazz, a man's got to feel it. Hoyte Kine, prominent Cleveland collector and record authority who had everything ever etched by Armstrong, once told me, 'Never live for your collection, live with it.' You can file your platters in cabinets or racks – my stuff's mostly LP, so I use wrought-iron racks, covering the records with a cloth hood to keep out dust – but don't bankrupt yourself with collecting expenditures. Collecting is most enjoyable as a hobby, a means of relaxing, not as a way of life."

Perhaps the best jazz collection in the country is owned by Dr. Hubert Pruett, ex-American League pitcher who holds the record for striking out Babe Ruth. "Doc" Pruett has close to 30,000 platters, all tabbed and indexed and set up in sections. He has about 12 feet of Vocalions, probably twice this amount of Columbias. Once or twice a week he hies himself downstairs and literally gets lost in his recordings. "Doc" loves music – "You have to love it to be a true collector," he says – and, like Dave DeLane, his jazz library is his escape and method of relaxation.

Then there's Bill Culter, Columbus (Ohio) druggist, Eddie Condon-fancier, and proud possessor of a six-figure ranchstyle home built around an Avery Fisher Custom Sixty high-fidelity set. Bill's music shop-on-the-hill contains thousands of platters, all tagged and cross-indexed by bands, vocalists and sidemen. Bill's partial to pianists Jess Stacy and Joe Sullivan (who penned Little Rock Getaway eons before it became a Les PaulMary Ford smash), blue-blower Red McKenzie, Benny Goodman and, of course, Condon. Bill credits Eddie with doing more for jazz than probably any other musician. "He lives his life and his music in a real humorous way; he just won't quit," avers Bill, whose admiration for the guitar player is reflected in a library leaning heavily towards Condon discs, among them the driving, basic LP (concluded overleaf)

"We Called it Music."

Once you've decided on the type of collection you want and have purchased and bartered and prayed your way into a pile of pleasant-sounding shellac, some serious thought should be given the problem of storage. For 78-and 45-rpm discs, the best bet is still the standarded eight-, ten-or twelve-record blank album, available everywhere' at nominal price. For 331/3-rpm discs, there is no better protective covering than their original folders (but, remember, only one record to a folder). Dampness, dust and excessive heat are injurious to record surfaces and for this reason album storage in a sturdy, ventilated cabinet is recommended for further protection. You can build your own or purchase one ready-made, but insist on a cabinet with at least two shelves, one about 12 inches high for 78s and 45s, the other about 14 inches high for 331/3s. Sectionalized cabinets are preferable because they make your periodic indexing chores a bit simpler.

Vertical filing is advised by those in the know. "All records should have up-and-down storage; if you've got them on the horizontal, they're likely to slide off and get trampled," says Harry Stone, St. Louis disc jockey-bandleader-collector. Harry procured many of his older waxings while working in a record emporium during his high school days. "No, I didn't steal 'em," he's quick to point out when one marvels at the size and scope of his collection. "I just took records in lieu of salary. It was a gasser, too. The man I worked for admonished me many times for taking home 'junk' by Krupa and Miller and BG and Shaw; said I should get the 'finer' stuff of the day by Kaye and Lombardo. Not that there's anything wrong with Lombardo; Armstrong likes what he does. But I pride myself on knowing something lasting when I hear it and those 1935-1940 numbers like In the Mood and Summit Ridge Drive are the staple items in my collection. I've made up my own albums, built around the bandleaders, and have them thoroughly indexed. I can pull out whatever you want to hear in less than a minute."

Harry's collection might be entitled "From Beiderbecke to Brubeck," as it includes all manner of jazz platters, and even some that aren't jazz. "Good music is my criterion," he says, "and I appreciate the well-scored and well-executed whether by James or Kenton or Victor Young."

Most confirmed platterbugs have invested in hi-fi equipment within the past year or two, and collectors' chatter is now spiced with frequent references to impedance, woofers and ohms. Crazy as it sounds, such lingo is fast becoming part and parcel of the record game (Down Beat, the jazzman's bible, recently added a complete hi-fi editorial section.) Hi-fi last year accounted for one-third of the sales in a $750,000,000 combined record-instrument-sound industry. But there's no need to go financially overboard on hi-fi; if you're an average-heeled record fan, you can buy, assemble, and install a hi-fi rig for less than $200.

However, before you start shopping for high-fidelity apparatus, make absolutely sure you want it. Because maybe it won't do you any good. The American Hearing Aid Association estimates there are about 4,000,000 Americans who simply can't hear sounds in the higher frequencies. So, before you shell out a couple of weeks' pay to reproduce hi-fi sound in your quarters, it would be a good idea to make certain you can hear it. You might lend an ear to the Victor disc, Adventures in High Fidelity. The brainchild of George Marek, RCA Victor's A and R man, this waxing plays the same musical passage in varying stages of fidelity. If you can't dig the difference, buy yourself a good radiophono combination and apply the money saved to increasing the size of your wax piles.

If you do go in for high-fidelity, don't get carried away. If there's a good sound engineer in your town, go to him, let him size up you, your residence and the thickness of your wallet, and then assemble a rig to fit. You see, there are no rigid standards for hi-fi. Any manufacturer can term a piece of junk hi-fi, and many of them do. By the same token, some manufacturers produce expensive, ornate equipment which emits sounds the human ear can't hear. For instance, several speakers now on the market will faithfully reproduce tones of 22,000 cycles per second – fine for your dogs but absolutely worthless to you. Of course, if you've a pup who digs blues 'n' bop, well ...

For several technical reasons, the best hi-fi comes only in component parts, and they can be installed in a variety of ways. A good idea is to order matched sets of component parts, assembled and ready to install at discount prices, from sound specialists like Lafayette Radio in New York, Walter Ashe in St. Louis, Oberline, Inc. in Hollywood, or Voice and Vision in Chicago. Or, if you're the type that likes to lean on the reputation of an established name, RCA Victor has on sale coast-to-coast matched components in combinations from $150 to $1500.

A fine rig, reasonably priced, can be put together as follows: Bogen DB10-1 Amplifier ($54.50), Webcor three-speed record changer ($35), GE sapphire cartridge for 78s ($5.75), GE diamond cartridge for LPs ($19.95), and University 6201 speaker ($44.25). A fine auxiliary speaker is the eight-inch Wharfedale ($24.50).

The best way to house all this? There is no best way. Bookcases are excellent; so are desks, step-type end-tables and even liquor cabinets. Boxing-in the speaker is the big problem. A closet lined with sound-absorbing material is ideal. The speaker should be placed in a baffle, to reduce the sound thrown out the back end, and should be located on the far wall from where you sit, pointing directly at you.

"Hi-fi is a real fine adjunct for your collection, and so is insurance – after all, you wouldn't play around with an uninsured automobile, would you? – but the main thing is the records," stresses Sammy Gardner, whose jumping Mound City Six can be heard on the Delmar label, "and a beginner can put together a good group of wax for less than $100."

Listed here is a varied, fundamental collection, running the gamut from Bunk to Monk. By no means a complete discography, consensus opinion is that it's representative, chock full of happy sounds, and exemplary of what is currently available on 33 1/3-rpm discs at moderate price:

Jam Session Coast-to-Coast: Eddie Condon's All-Stars, The Rampart St. Paraders – Columbia

Swinging at the Sugar Bowl: Bob Crosby and Band – Coral

Blue Prelude: Woody Herman and his Orchestra – Coral

Carnegie Hall Jazz Concert (1938): Benny Goodman – Columbia

We Called it Music: Eddie Condon and Wingy Manone – Label X "Vault Original"

Stan Getz at the Shrine: Stan Getz – Norgran

BG in Hi-Fi: Benny Goodman – Capitol

The Louis Armstrong Story (Volume II): Louis Armstrong and his Hot Seven – Columbia

Kansas City Jazz (Volume I): Bennie Moten – Label X "Vault Original"

Glenn Miller and His Orchestra (Limited Edition, Volume I) – RCA Victor

This is Duke Ellington – RCA Victor

Experiment in Jazz: Bill Russo – Universal

Papa's Golden Wedding: Oscar ("Papa") Celestin – Southland

You're Hearing Shearing: George Shearing – MGM

Jazz at Oberlin: Dave Brubeck Quartet – Fantasy

Horn A-Plenty: Bobby Hackett and his Orchestra – Commodore

The Bix Beiderbeck Story (Volumes II and III): Bix Beiderbeck – Columbia

The Rockin' Chair Lady: Mildred Bailey – Decca

Shades of Bix: Jimmy McPartland and his Band – Brunswick

Night in Manhattan: Lee Wiley, Joe Bushkin – Columbia

Gone-Garner-Gonest: Erroll Garner – Columbia

Four Saxophones in Twelve Tones: Lyle Murphy, Frank Morgan – Gene Norman Presents

Fats Waller Plays and Sings – RCA Victor

Wolverine Jazz: Bud Freeman and his Orchestra – Decca

Piano Moods: Ralph Sutton – Columbia

Kid Ory's Creole Jazz Band – Good Time Jazz

Old Sounds from San Francisco: Dave Brubeck – Fantasy

Another Evening with Charlie Ventura and Mary Ann McCall – Norgran

Jim Brown