The Newport Jazz Festival

I Was Relishing a tumblerful of fine old Kentucky sour mash at a Boston house party one evening in February, 1954. Present at the gathering were a number of charming couples, among them Louis and Elaine Lorillard of Newport, Rhode Island.

The conversation bounded from subject to subject, as it is wont to do at affable gatherings, and finally alighted on music. I heard that the Lorillards had been instrumental in bringing the New York Philharmonic to Newport the previous year in what had been a questionable artistic triumph and an unquestionable financial flop. I learned, too, that the Lorillards were still in the market for musical grief, this time in the form of a jazz concert. Nevertheless, it was a jolly evening: the whiskey was hearty, the music good, the guests convivial and the conversation rosy and rich in wondrous imagination.

As the evening drew to a close, I mustered my courage, cleared my throat and told Mr.and Mrs. Lorillard that I thought their idea of a jazz concert in Newport was a fine one, and if they wished to phone me the following day, I should be happy to explore the possibilities further.

Frankly, I never expected to hear from them again. I didn't know then of Elaine's amazing tenacity when she grabs hold of an idea. As I expected, however, there was no call the following day, but about a week later the phone jingled and I heard the pleasant voice of Elaine Lorillard asking if I had a few moments of time to spare.

So started the planning for the first Newport Jazz Festival in 1954, the ultimate results of which are well known to jazz aficionados. What is not so well known is how close I came to throwing in the towel and giving up the whole project. Nobody knows – not even the Lorillards – the misgivings, the doubts, the fears that plagued me before I finally accepted the responsibilities for that first Festival.

For one thing, there was the little problem of transportation. There are no trains into Newport, and no planes. And here I was, planning on bringing in thousands of people. Then there was the monstrous responsibility of spending, carte blanche, up to $20,000 of Lorillard's good, green money while he and Elaine vacationed in the sunshine of Capri. Was I the man for this job? Could I handle it? There was no book to go by: this had to be played strictly by ear.

If it had not been for the insistence of my parents, and also of Terri Turner and Charles Bourgeois (both staff members of my Boston night club, Storyville), then I am afraid I would have passed. Even now, I'm a little awed at the enormity of the undertaking.

We had made tentative plans, in case of rain, to hold the 1954 Festival in the Naval Gymnasium rather than out-of-doors at the Casino. At 6 P.M., the second day of the Festival, raindrops big as lemons started to fall; it was too late to shuttle the crowds over to the alternate site. As I walked dismally through the streets of Newport, at least several gross of wet jazz fans asked me what we were going to do. "It's not going to rain," I yelled back, and followed it up with a feeble smile. Everyone thought I was weak in the head: it was pouring. Louis Lorillard got so excited he ordered me to refund all the money, which would have meant a personal loss to him of $20,000. I told him, "These people have come to hear jazz and they'll hear it rain or shine." Sure enough, the paid-up people stormed into the Casino as if it were a twinkling, moonlit night and I will never forget that ocean of umbrellas as I gazed out at the crowd from the band shell. At 8:30, as if the Muses had willed it, the heavens cleared. I still shudder when I recall that Mr.Lorillard's first thought was to give back all the money.

Another incident from that first Festival vivid in my memory involves Dizzy Gillespie. I have always had the greatest respect for Dizzy as one of the most important trumpet men in the entire history of jazz, but for some reason Dizzy's comic antics on the bandstand had always irritated me. In my most snobbish manner I decided to ask Dizzy to cut the clowning and just concentrate on his music. Seeing his goateed jaw drop several inches, once I had made my suggestion, was one of the most painful experiences of my life. I really hit him below the belt and I think it wrecked the entire Festival for him. Dizzy hardly spoke to me for over a year. I didn't realize at the time that his clowning was as much a part of his personality as his trumpet playing. Not only that: Dizzy probably has as great a sense of comedy timing as most professional funnymen in the business. The incident taught me never to interfere with the performance of an artist I have hired. If I do not like the way an artist performs, I have the privilege of not engaging him.

Exactly one week before the opening of last year's Newport Jazz Festival, the telephone rang in my Boston apartment at 4o'clock in the morning. It was Louis Lorillard. Terri Turner had been in a serious automobile accident and was in the Newport Hospital. Groggy as I was, I could not fully realize the impact of Louis' words. I remember mumbling something about getting down to Newport first thing in the morning, then flopping back in bed. Ten minutes later I sat bolt upright: had I dreamed that Terri was in an accident or was it really true? I was as close to panic then as I have ever been in my life. What condition was Terri in? Would she live? Would she be maimed for life? What would happen to the Festival? Terri controlled the inner workings completely: ticket sales, reservations, employment, public relations in Newport, contacts with local merchants, concessions, selling of boxes, rooms for artists and guests of the Festival, and one hundred other not-so-minute details. This wasn't like a Broadway show; we had no understudy ready to step in. Everyone involved, including Terri from her hospital bed (drugged as she was to help kill the pain), worked ten times harder. My partner, Cecil Steen, took the entire week off from his business and did his level best to organize the state of utter confusion that reigned. Louis Lorillard left his travel business; Elaine, I believe, did not sleep for an entire week. Strangely, the public never knew of this backstage drama that went right along with the glamor and excitement of the second Newport Jazz Festival. Fortunately, Miss Turner, although slightly patched up, is again operating at top efficiency.

The dates for this year's Festival are July 5th, 6th and 7th. For the first time, I will use the services of an active board of advisors to help me choose the talent to appear. I hope to follow their suggestions as closely as possible since the board consists of just about every important jazz critic in the business: Leonard Feather, John Hammond, Nat Hentoff, Allen Morrison (Editor of Ebony), Bill Coss, Barry Ulanov, George Simon and Marshall Stearns.

One of the faults of the past Festivals can be attributed to several of the musicians themselves who have not fully grasped the significance of Newport and have treated it as they would any one-nighter. As a result, they have merely played the same routines used in night clubs and concerts all during the previous year (this by no means applies to all musicians who have appeared at Newport; only a few have been guilty). We hope to correct this fault with the complete cooperation of the musicians. As a case in point, this year will mark the first Festival appearance of Sarah Vaughan. Rather than have her do her regular act, we hope to exploit her talents as one of the greatest singers in modern jazz by building a background group including Miles Davis, Sonny Stitt and/or Zoot Simms. I am sure this will whet the appetite of any true jazzo-phile.

There will be more of an international flavor this year than ever before: the brilliant young Japanese pianist Toshiko will appear in full formal dress; Jutta Hipp and Bernard Peiffer, two magnificent German pianists, will be there. The West Coast isn't exactly out of this country, but it's still 3,000 miles from Newport, which is, to say the least, "pretty far out." It will be represented by Chico Hamilton's wonderful quartet, among others. Dave Brubeck's quartet and Gerry Mulligan's new sextet featuring Bobby Brookmeyer will be present. The big bands of Stan Kenton, Count Basie, Duke Ellington and Dizzy Gillespie will be in imposing evidence. Displaying their individual talents will be Teddy Wilson, Gene Krupa, Kay and Jay, Anita O'Day, Roy Eldridge, Ben Webster, Charlie Mingus, Art Tatum, Buck Clayton, Jimmy Rushing ... even the new classical sensation, Frederick Gulda. Satchmo will be back, along with Muggsy Spanier, Eddie Condon and his All-Stars, and many, many others from every school of jazz.

What has given the Festival a unique validity, what has separated it from the sundry all-star jazz concerts that tour the country each year, is its academic aspects, its serious analysis of jazz music. In the past, Professor Marshall Stearns, Director of the Institute of Jazz Studies and Professor of English at Hunter College, has organized jazz panels and discussions that were presented in the afternoons preceding concerts. The audiences at these free forums were not only large, but enthusiastic as well. Last year, live music was added to these panel discussions; plans this year call for further enlargement of this workshop-seminar idea.

What has happened in the past and what will happen in 1956 is only a tiny part of the original dream of the Lorillards and myself. Eventually, we hope to establish a true festival atmosphere: a full six-week period during which students, musicians and teachers can gather in a relaxed atmosphere for a healthy interchange of ideas. This, inturn, could lead to a permanent summer school for the serious jazz student: during the week there could be small concerts for those most interested: at the end of each week, there could be huge, all-star concerts designed for the general public.

Of course, all this dreaming demands money, and lots of it. So far, the Festival has managed to sustain itself with only a minor deficit (contrary to public opinion, the Festival is currently in debt to Louis Lorillard to the tune of $8,000). In order to make the dream come true, outside money will be necessary and at present we are approaching various foundations in the hope that they will be interested in helping. There is little doubt that once organized, a Festival of this sort could be self sustaining. The problem is the initial outlay of funds.

The stationery of the Newport Jazz Festival bears a motto: "To encourage America's enjoyment of Jazz, and to sponsor the study of Jazz, a true American Art Form." The enormous impact of the Festival and the reams of publicity accorded it by the press, has done much to help us attain the first half of the goal. With still more active interest by all concerned with jazz, and with a good long run of luck, perhaps the Newport Jazz Festival can fulfill its objectives completely. I hope so.

Rocking 'round the Newport clock: Jimmy Rushing and Lester Young

Wild Bill Davidson, Bud Freeman and Pee Wee Russell.

Dinah Washington

Left to right: Louis and Elaine Lorillard chat with jazz impresario George Wein.

Above: four members of the jazz panel ponder the performance of one of the groups, attempt a later analysis of what they heard.

Lower left: questions and discussions are encouraged among serious-minded jazz fans attending a packed panel session in the afternoon.

Lower right: the Duke of Ellington grinningly greets Paul Desmond and Dave Brubeck.

Top: the great Basie Band breaks up the people to the accompaniment of clicking camera shutters.

Lower left: Trummy Young and Louis "Satchmo" Armstrong apply their brass to some dixieland

And lower right: cool schoolers Gerry Mulligan and Paul Desmond bleep out the strains of a more modern medley.

Above: Clifford Brown, Woody Herman and Herd, and Chet Baker.

Above: Clifford Brown, Woody Herman and Herd, and Chet Baker.

Above: Clifford Brown, Woody Herman and Herd, and Chet Baker.

Below: smartly dressed spectators gaze fixedly at bandstand during one of the evening concerts.