Bart was a sex freak, and he had an enormous joint, one of the biggest I’ve ever seen. Occasionally on the road he’d invite some of the guys down to his room, where he’d have some real tall showgirl-hustler. He’d haul out his joint and slam it on the table top, and then he’d have the chick do a backbend or something and give her head while we smoked pot and drank and watched. A lot of the guys in the band considered themselves real cocksmen, but I’ll have to admit that the kings—for pure downright sex and the number of freaks they knew in each town—were Bart and the bass player, Eddie Safranski. And Eddie was there, too, on the highway.
Al Porcino was up in front, a marvelous trumpet player, a nice-looking guy about six feet tall. In his room sometimes he’d take Ray Wetzel’s pants and put them on, the pants from his uniform. He’d fill himself up with pillows and dance in front of the mirror. A couple of times he even went out on the stand like that. He always wanted to be a band leader. He had a book full or arrangements, and wherever he went, all his life, he’d get guys together and rehearse them like a big band. So he was out there with June, leading us, twirling his trumpet like a baton, marching backwards and shouting out commands, and we were doing all these movements, and we were all drunk and running into each other.
Bud Shank was marching, playing his flute, playing all those trills like they do, and Milt Bernhart—he had a big moustache at the time—he looked like Jerry Colonna. He was the lead trombone player and nobody could play louder than him. He had the most fantastic chops of anybody I ever heard. He was playing his slide trombone and walking, pointing it up in the air and going “Rrrr rruuuhh uhhh!” And we went into “When the Saints Go Marching In,” and we were just shouting. And we really believed that we were marching in the Rose Parade or something. Cars and trucks were coming, and it was so far-out for this to be happening in that spot that they pulled off the road to watch, and they had cameras and kids and dogs, and they had the whole place bottled up, and the highway patrol finally came and made us get back in the bus. We were blocking the road. That was one of the great times. We had some great times.
STAN TURNS MINNEAPOLIS ‘INNOVATIONS’ INTO MUSIC APPRECIATION SESSION by Leigh Kamman
Minneapolis—Stan Kenton blew into Minneapolis in March with a North Dakota blizzard, and the storm converted his first concert into a music appreciation session. With two concerts planned, at 7:30 and 9:30 p.m., and only several hundred spectators there for the first concert, Stan decided to combine the two at 9:30.
In appealing to the audience Kenton said, “Thank you very much for climbing through the storm. We appreciate very much you all being here.
“I wonder if we might ask a favor? So that everyone may enjoy or reject what our music offers, we would like very much to combine the two performances into one.
Meet the Band “Meanwhile, we would like very much to have you meet the band . . . get acquainted with violins, cellos, violas, brass, reeds. If you want to know something about drums, see Shelly Manne. If you have questions about vocal music, see June Christy. In fact, we invite you to come on stage. If you can’t get up here, we’ll come down there.”
Forty musicians and several hundred spectators swarmed on stage and through the audience. Shelly Manne demonstrated percussion. Maynard Ferguson spoke for the brass section. June Christy talked to aspiring young singers. And the local musicians checked their ideas against those of the big band musician. The local cats and fans did some genuine worshipping while the Kenton crew did some genuine responding with answers and autographs.
Session In spite of storm and a serious air crash within the city limits, the crowd grew as 9:30 approached. At 9, Art Pepper, Bob Cooper, Buddy Childers, Don Bagley, Bud Shank, and Milton Bernhart played a jam session.
The crowd gathered in front of the stand while the Kenton men honked. By 9:30, some 1,200 persons had plodded through wind and snow to Central high auditorium. And at 9:45, the concert got underway with everyone happy and receptive for “Innovations.” down beat, April 21, 1950. Copyright 1950 by down beat. Reprinted by special permission.
(Lee Young) I always liked Stan Kenton. A beautiful person. As a matter of fact, I think he used to be rehearsal pianist at the Florentine Gardens on Hollywood Boulevard. The first time I met Stan, I met him with some disc jockey. Stan’s one of the warmest people you would ever meet. He’s just an elegant man. I’m talking about years ago; when you meet him now, the man’s just the same. The man’s the same. So you wonder, they must have thrown the pattern away. When you see what goes on today with people, you wonder how . . . Seems like all the wonderful, compassionate people were born a few years ago. Seems that way.
Bob Cooper and June Christy
(Coop) We were all very young when we got together with Stan, and he was like a father to us. He worried about people’s problems and tried to resolve them when he could, so we had a high regard for him. And, of course, Stan had people across the country that worshiped him, idolized him, and that was part of the magnetism of the band, Stan’s personal magnetism.
(Christy) I’ve often said that if Stan wanted to run for president, it would be a landslide because he had that powerful personality, that ability to win people over. No one’s perfect, but he was great to his people, and we were his children, and we were all protected. I think you’ll find very few people who’ll say anything negative about him. I can’t really think of anything.
(Coop) We always thought we should make more money.
(Christy) That’s true.
(Coop) That’s about the only thing.
I joined the band in 1945. The band Art joined—that was probably my favorite of Stan’s bands. Art was there and Bud Shank, and I was getting to play more solos than before because the band was getting into a younger trend of music that we enjoyed. Shorty Rogers started writing some arrangements, Gene Roland, the more swinging things. I think all the jazz soloists in the band enjoyed it much more than Stan did. He still liked the flashy type of arrangement. And I never felt that Stan really knew when the band was swinging its best. We would wait for the moment when he got off the stand to go check the box office or something, and then we’d call all the music that we liked to play.
(Christy) The audience reaction to that band was usually great, but it depended upon where we played. If we played for an audience who expected to listen to the band and not dance, they were avid fans, and they wouldn’t budge a muscle. They’d just listen with their eyes wide open and their ears wide open, but, as we often did, sometimes we’d be booked into a dance palace, and people looked at us as if we were freaks because there was nothing to dance to and the band was always loud. So, if you weren’t a Kenton fan, the band wasn’t that popular. For the most part we played for Kenton fans.
Traveling was no joy, but we were so young, and I, for one, was so thrilled at being with the band because that had been my ambition ever since I can remember. I started singing when I was about thirteen in my hometown, and I had to be a girl singer with a band. I would have settled for any band, but Stan, who was at his very hottest at that moment! I was in seventh heaven.
I had promised my mother I would finish high school before going to the big town, Chicago. And I did. I was all packed the night before graduation. Packed! I had two dresses and one pair of shoes.
It was a fluke thing that I got the job with Stan in the first place. I’d heard that Anita [O’Day] had left the band and I figured that this would sure be an opportunity. I’d heard that the band was coming to Chicago. I thought at the time (I was totally wrong) the first place they’ll go is the office that