Continued from the Previous Blog Post, "The Mad Mab: the Life & Times of Charlie Barnet - the Early Years Charlie Barnet’s orchestra was released from its Grill Room engagement in the Paramount Hotel at the end of May 1933 due to slow business — being in the depths of the Depression. His orchestra was under contract to the CBS Artists’ Bureau at this time which was able to get the band booked for a few engagements after the Grill Room — the first being at the New Kenmore Hotel in Albany, followed by two additional gigs in Dayton and Columbus, Ohio. Barnet admits in his autobiography that jobs were scarce at the time for a band his size, and he lost two of his lead trumpet players at the start of the tour because they couldn’t afford to go out on the road with the low wages he was able to pay them. While seeking to recruit replacements, none other than Jack Purvis (please refer to Part 1) once again came onto the scene. This actually was fortuitous for Barnet as, in addition to being a brilliant trumpet player (albeit highly erratic) he wrote new charts for the band, along with another of Barnet’s trumpet players, Nathan Van Cleave — which served to begin moving the Barnet band away from the initial cache of Jan Garber arrangements that got him started. Van Cleave later when on to become a highly regarded composer in film, television and radio in Hollywood, and invented a new type of record needle for improved sound. At the conclusion of the engagements in Ohio, CBS had no further bookings for Barnet’s band in sight, so he returned to New York and disbanded, despite trying to hold his band together. During November 1933 CBS got him a booking at the Roseland Ballroom which helped but, by his own admission, “The band was unbookable on a steady basis, and the quality of the music wasn’t too good.”1 As 1934 began, Barnet was still seeking a musical direction that would both fulfill his band-leading aspirations but also be bookable in the kinds of venues that would allow his enterprise to be financially viable. Early that year he met Ozzie Nelson’s manager, the owner of a furniture company named Milton Roemer, who also had a radio show. He had Ozzie Nelson booked into the Cocoanut Grove on the 26th floor of the Park Central Hotel in Manhattan and he asked Charlie if he wanted to fill-in for two weeks. The venue offered substantial airtime on both the CBS and NBC radio networks, as well as local radio stations WOR and WMCA. This was precisely the kind of exposure Barnet was seeking for his band, and he, “…jumped at the chance.”2 The two-week stint ultimately led to the band being booked back into the Cocoanut Grove for the summer, from early April through September 1934, when the Nelson band went on tour. During this period, the Barnet band broadcast on Friday nights on WABC, and Saturday and Sunday nights on WOR.3 From there, Roemer offered to book the band into the Roosevelt Hotel in New Orleans the week after Christmas, preceded by gigs in Providence, RI, Boston, Wildwood, NJ in October and the Apollo Theater in New York in November. Charlie Barnet was the first white band ever to play the Apollo Theater. Once in New Orleans, the Barnet band started playing both the Fountain Room and Blue Room at the Roosevelt Hotel beginning December 29, 1934 — broadcasting regularly on New local radio station WDSU from both rooms in the hotel. However, by early February, Charlie and his band were told to leave the hotel — and presumably never come back.
So the Barnet band’s last performance at the Roosevelt Hotel was on February 8, 1935. The band broke-up, and they all made their way back to New York. He gigged around the city upon his return, sometimes using members from his New Orleans band.6 And then he married his first wife — Joyce O’Day — “…mostly because of the way things were going and [I] wanted someone to comfort me…”7 However, within a short period of time, “It was a definite mistake, as I soon realized, because I really wasn’t ready for marriage. And it was very unfair to Joyce, who married me in good faith.”8 At this point, Barnet next got set-up for a college date tour through the South fronting another musician’s band (because his own had essentially disintegrated through the New Orleans debacle). He decided that the day before he was to leave on the tour was a good time to tell his wife that he didn’t think the marriage was working and that they should get a divorce. By his own reckoning, she didn’t take the news very well and she immediately got an attorney — who in turn wanted to tie him up in legal proceedings in New York. Barnet, who promptly got his own attorney, sent him out-of-state before any papers could be served.9 With the completion of that last tour in the South, Charlie made his way to Miami, knowing he couldn’t return to New York without being served divorce papers. His wife Joyce was obviously stung over his desire for a divorce, especially so quickly after their marriage, and — knowing the background of his family, no doubt assumed that there could be lucrative alimony payments in her future. So Barnet gigged around on various one-nighters, ultimately leading a 5-piece group at the Gang Plank Club for four weeks on Biscayne Boulevard using local Miami musicians which, by his own admission, made for a horrible band. He was then able to briefly join up with a band led by Chicago percussionist, Jerry Friedman, when it opened at the Palm Island Casino. Friedman was known for his work on drums and on the marimba and was fronting what was essentially a show runes band. It was during his stint with this band that Barnet got wind that his wife Joyce was coming to Miami with her lawyer to serve him with papers, so he hurriedly booked passage on a boat to Havana. It’s been reported by Barnet that his wife and her lawyer arrived on the dock just as the boat pulled away and he shouted to them, “Millions for defense, buy not one cent for alimony!”10 What a guy. Upon arrival in Cuba, knowing that he couldn’t work as a musician, he essentially became a gigolo of sorts for almost four months, holed-up in Sloppy Joe’s Bar, located at the corner of Animas and Zulueta streets in Old Havana on the same block as the Plaza Hotel. As he describes in his autobiography, “Cruise ships would arrive regularly in Havana and there were lonely women looking for thrills in a foreign country. My headquarters was Sloppy Joe’s, a popular bar all the tourists visited. For a fee, I would take the women to all of the nightspots, as well as to sex shows if they wished. I was able to make pretty good time with some of them.”11 At this point it should be obvious to even the casual reader, that Barnet's appetite for sex was virtually insatiable — and his capacity for commitment to marital fidelity was apparently non-existent. Remember, he was married at least eleven times — and by some counts, thirteen. And it's a characteristic that stayed with him his entire life.Yet his commitment to his music was seemingly unshakable.
He described Havana as a wide-open town at the time, “…where you could get anything you wanted.” While there, he lived with a ‘beautiful’ Panamanian woman named Anita Corday who worked as a hostess at the Montmartre Cabaret.12 Eventually Barnet received word from his attorney that a marginal cash settlement had been reached with his first wife — and no alimony. So, he was free to return to New York. Upon informing his Panamanian consort that he was leaving, she reportedly flew into a wild rage and tried to slash him with a piece of broken glass — that she had bitten off with her teeth. Just more spreading of goodwill, it seems. But he was soon on his way back to New York. In a final ironic twist to the entire Cuban episode, Charlie’s Panamanian flame knew what ship he was taking back to Florida and would be waiting for him with the intent of doing him harm. He had to sneak on-board the boat through the baggage and freight entrance and make his escape from Cuba. So both coming and going, he left very angry women glaring at him from the dock. What a guy. Once in New York, Barnet again called Milton Roemer, who had arranged for his Park Central Hotel engagement in the Cocoanut Grove, the ill-fated booking at the Roosevelt Hotel in New Orleans, and even the brief booking at the Gang Plank Club in Miami. Charlie at this point had no band, no money, and had to basically start from scratch. Astoundingly, Roemer was able to get Barnet an extended engagement at the Glen Island Casino in New Rochelle, NY for the following spring. At the time, the Glen Island Casino was one of the premier ballrooms in the country, and it offered any band that played there extensive primetime radio air time. Good fortune once again seemed to smile upon Charlie Barnet, despite himself — but there was a catch. In return for the booking and subsequent tours, Barnet would have to give Roemer and Michael Dezutter, the operator of the Glen Island Casino, a percentage of the band’s receipts, in perpetuity, for the life of the band. While Barnet weighed the pros and cons of the deal, given his present situation, and the potential benefits offered by the Glen Island Casino engagement, he elected to take the deal.
I think music critic George T. Simon put it best, in a review he wrote of Barnet’s band in the July 1937 issue of Metronome where he ceded that the band could potentially be a great band — and Barnet himself could be a great leader, but... “…Charlie Barnet lacks just one important qualification, and it’s a deficiency which is keeping him from reaching truly great heights. Charlie Barnet seems to have no sense of responsibility… This writer has interrogated various people who have worked for Charlie, and they’ve all come through with the same story: ‘We could have a swell band, but man, we have too much fun We play for ourselves on the stand, and when we’re not playing we’re usually out someplace knocking ourselves out. You know — weed and whiskey — the usual story!’ There’s no doubt whatsoever in this writer’s mind that Barnet, if imbued with a fine sense of responsibility, could come to the top with one of the greatest bands in history. He has all the other qualifications: personal musical and commercial. Potentially he’s about the world’s greatest fronter for a band, and that’s saying a lot. Here’s a fervent prayer that all those potentialities will be realized before it’s too late. It’s up to you, Charlie Barnet!” Shortly after George T. Simon’s review was published, Barnet broke-up his band and went to Hollywood to try his hand at acting one more time, at 20th Century Fox studios, appearing as an extra in a few westerns, and reportedly as a bandleader in two films: Love and Hisses (1937) and Sally, Irene and Mary (1938), although I can’t find any documentation of that on the Internet Movie Data Base. But regardless, he was soon back fronting a band again by December 1937 in Rhode Island at the Arcadia Ballroom. The musical orientation of the Barnet band changed fundamentally with his return from California. This time, after wandering aimlessly through the 1930s with no clear, jazz-oriented musical direction, he determined that he, “…now wanted to incorporate Duke Ellington’s harmonic approach and tone colors with Count Basie’s rhythmic drive.”14 A worthy aspiration to be sure. The addition of Andy Gibson as an arranger for the band based on a recommendation from Juan Tizol (valve trombonist with Duke Ellington), followed by Billy May as another arranger while it was playing in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania in June 1938, its breakthrough opening at the Famous Door at 35 West 52nd Street in New York City on January 1939; and the recording of Cherokee for RCA Victor on July 17, 1939, all converged to finally establish a viable trajectory for Charlie Barnet’s musical aspirations. Both arrangers brought a more swinging, modern sense to Barnet’s book — and it made an immediate difference. With the Famous Door engagement, Barnet sent for Billy May to take up residence with the band in New York from Pittsburgh, paying him $15.00 per arrangement. 52nd Street in New York City at around the time pf Charlie Barnet's debut. The sign to the entrance of the Famous Door jazz club can barely be seen underneath the Club Samoa sign. With its NBC wire, resulting remote radio broadcasts, and critical reception, the Famous Door engagement was deemed as critical to Charlie Barnet’s ultimate success as a bandleader as Los Angeles’ Palomar Ballroom was to Benny Goodman in 1935. Barnet played the Famous Door from January 17 through March 22, 1939. It was also around this time that Charlie first began also playing alto saxophone. Up until this time, it was strictly tenor — with Coleman Hawkins as his principal influence. Cherokee was recorded at the RCA Victor studios in New York on July 17th. A composition by English jazz musician and bandleader, Ray Noble — the Barnet arrangement by Billy May provided unique but very compelling rhythmic patterns that not only provided Barnet with his first major hit recording, but it spawned numerous derivatives — the most well-known being Redskin Rhumba, which no doubt got its start as a head arrangement riffing off of Barnet’s closing saxophone solo in Cherokee, and ultimately becoming its sequel. This is not the original recording of Cherokee, but this is pretty much a note-for-note version, filmed for Snader Telescriptions in Hollywood on November 3, 1950. It features Barnet on tenor and alto saxophones, John Markham, drums; Ed Mihelich, bass; Donn Trenner, piano; Dick Meldonian, Chet Ball, Jack Laird, Bill Holman, Bob Dawes, reeds; Dave Wells, Dick Kenney, Ken Martlock, trombones; Gene Roland, Carlton McBeath, Irving Goodman (Benny's brother), Marvin Rosen, Eddie Stress, trumpets. Redskin Rhumba became so popular, that Barnet used it as his theme in numerous variations for not only most of the 1940s but indeed, for the rest of his career. In similar fashion, Pow Wow became a sequel to Redskin Rhumba, the elements of both being incorporated into a follow-up head arrangement that ultimately became the New Redskin Rhumba of the mid to late 1940s. While the sequence of musical examples provided below may aurally seem somewhat tedious, they are included for reference here to demonstrate the evolution of the rhythmic pattern Billy May established with his original arrangement of Cherokee. This pattern, and the virtually endless variations that came out of it, became singularly identifiable with Barnet's band and sound. When one first heard the opening bars to any of these variations, there was absolutely no mistaking whose band it was. And as previously noted, Barnet used it as his theme for the rest of his career, The original RCA Victor recording of Redskin Rhumba, waxed in New York City on October 14, 1940. Personnel includes: Barnet, tenor & alto saxophone; Conn Humphries, Leo White, Kurt Bloom, James Lamare, reeds; Ford Leary, Claude Murphy, Don Ruppersburg, Bill Robertson, trombones; Billy May, Bernie Privinm Sam Spear, Lyman Vunk, trumpets; Bill Miller, piano; Bus Etri, guitar; Cliff Leeman, drums. This was actually a 'head' arrangement continuing from Cherokee. The composer, Dale Bennett, was actually an alias used by Charlie Barnet in an effort to keep any of his divorced wives from dipping into his song royalties. The third iteration of Billy May's original rhythmic conception of Cherokee, this is the original Decca recording of Pow Wow, waxed in New York City on October 21, 1943. Personnel includes: Barnet, alto saxophone; Buddy DeFranco, Ray DeGeer, Kurt Bloom, Mike Goldberg, Danny Bank, reeds; Eddie Bert, Ed Fromm, Spud Murphy, Bob Swift, trombones; Peanuts Holland, Al Killian, Jimmy Pupa, Lyman Vunk, trumpets; Dodo Mamarosa, piano; Turk Van Lake, guitar; Russ Wagner, bass; Harold Hahn, drums. Like Redskin Rhumba, this too was a 'head' arrangement credited to Dale Bennett, The line-up of sidemen here is fairly spectacular. Al Killian provides he soarung trumpet responses to Barnet's alto. The opening riff on Barnet's alto was taken from bandlear Teddy Hill's theme, Uptown Rhapsody. The New Redskin Rhumba, the forth and final (though there were countless derivations with every performance and broadcast) iteration of the Cherokee rhythmic concept. This version here is from a Universal-International Studios musical short, recorded and filmed in Hollywood on July 6 and 8, 1948. Personnel includes: Barnet, alto saxophone; Walt Weidler, Bud Shank, Bob Dawes, Frank Pappalardo, Al Curtis, reeds; Paul Washburn, Herbie Harper, Karl de Karske, trombones; Jack Hanson, Irv Lewis, Dave Nichols, Lammar Wright, Jr. (substituted with Neal Hefti in the film), trumpets; Claude Williamson, piano; Iggy Shevack, bass; Dick Shanahan, drums. The soundtrack for this number was recorded on July 6th, with filming done July 8th. Lammar Wright performed solo trumpet on this arrangement on the soundtrack, but was substituted in the film with Neal Hefti — most certainly because he was black. I believe the solo trombonist was Herbie Harper. If I'm wrong, someone kindly let me know. Following that fateful recording session, Barnet’s band headed west, playing engagements that included Frank Dailey’s Meadowbrook Ballroom in Cedar Grove, New Jersey from July 25th through early August; the Sunnybrook Ballroom in Pottstown, Pennsylvania on August 12th; two more stops in New Castle, PA and Columbus, OH; then finally arriving and opening at the Palomar Ballroom in Los Angeles on August 23rd. Barnet remembers that by the time the band reached Los Angeles, their recording of Cherokee began, “…to break real big, during [their] engagement at the Palomar.”15 The Palomar gig was very successful, but on October 2, 1939 the Palomar Ballroom burnt to the ground, destroying the band’s instruments and library. Count Basie provided Charlie with some arrangements, and the band limped back east — slowly rebuilding their book, with Billy May and Andy Gibson working feverishly. The incident that resulted in Charlie Barnet’s nickname, the “Mad Mab,” or “Wild Mab,” or just “Mab,” occurred during a gig at the Cedar Point Ballroom in Sandusky, Ohio on August 2, 1940 in which, after a typical Barnet band drinking session, someone picked up guitarist Bus Etri and threw him into the hotel’s water fountain. The incident was picked-up in the local press as well as a local theater, and was memorialized in the Bus Etri arrangement entitled, “The Wild Mab of the Fish Pond.” Somehow the nickname stuck.16 By 1940, Glenn Miller had lured arranger Billy May away from the Barnet band, leaving Charlie principally with Andy Gibson and Skip Martin — along with his own arranging skills. But May had made his contributions to Barnet’s band when it mattered. Now fully established, Barnet cruised through the 1940s as a major player in American jazz — arguably fitting an entire lifetime of hard living and driving jazz into a single decade. Even a cursory review of his experiences and musical output would fill entire volumes, much less a couple of blog posts. If you’re interested in learning more, the best reference available today is probably his own autobiography, “Those Swinging Years,” which can be found on Amazon and the Resources page of this website. The original arrangement for Charlie Barnet's composition, Skyline, recorded for Snader Telescriptions in Hollywood on November 3, 1950. The personnel here is the same as it was for Cherokke, as it was filmed during the same session. Barnet’s band got another boost when he recorded his own composition of Skyliner for Decca on August 3, 1944. It was ultimately used as the theme music for the late 1940s US Armed Forces Network program "Midnight In Munich", broadcast from the AFN station in Munich, Germany, and hosted by Sgt. Ralph Moffat. With its powerful transmitters, this AFN station could be heard as far away as into the UK, and Skyliner was heard every night at the opening of the program. Andy Gibson, Billy Moore, Skip Martin, and later Bill Holman continued to contribute fine arrangements to the band’s book through the 1940’s. Andy's Boogie (1950) - Filmed in Hol;lywood on November 3, 1950 A fine example of the kind of blues arrangements turned in by Andy Gibson when the band wasn't jumping. The personnel remains the same here as with Cherokee and Skyliner. By the end of the decade, Barnet realized the music business as he knew it was coming to an end and essentially stopped performing full-time in 1948 — pulling bands together either for special engagements or filmed musical shorts thereafter. Like Artie Shaw and Benny Goodman, he formed a bop band in 1949, but it was short-lived. He finally quit altogether by 1967. But he hopefully could look back with some satisfaction over what he had accomplished since 1940. He had great vocalists sing with his band, including Lena Horne and Kay Starr, and many fine sidemen — too numerous to mention here — but most significantly, Benny Carter, Buddy De Franco, Maynard Ferguson, Dizzy Gillespie, Bill Harris, Neal Hefti, Peanuts Holland, Bill Holman, Philly Joe Jones, Barney Kessel, Al Killian, Oscar Pettiford, Eddie Safranski, Eddie Sauter, Doc Severinsen, Bud Shank, Charlie Shavers, Willie Smith, Clark Terry, Juan Tizol, and frankly, so many others. East Side, West Side (1948) Filmed in New York City for 20th Century Fox Studios as part of a Movietone Melodies musical short, this was technically Charlie Barnet's attempt at a Bop band. Personnel includes: Barnet, tenor and soprano saxophone; Vinnie Dean, Dave Matthews, Kurt Bloom, Danny Bank, reeds; Ken Martlock, Dick Kenney, Obie Massingill, tombones; Doc Severinsen, Tony DiNardi, John Howell, Dave Burns, trumpets; Claude Williamson, piano; Nelson Boyd, bass; Cliff Leeman, drums; Bunny Briggs, vocal. Look for the trumpet solo by a very young Carl 'Doc' Severinsen. Also, the vocalist here is Bernard 'Bunny' Briggs (1922-2014) who was an American tap dancer inducted into the American Tap Dancing Hall of Fame in 2006. He appeared frequently as a vocalist with Barnet's band, including the 1947 Town Hall Concert in New York. A devout Roman Catholic, Briggs wanted to go into the priesthood, byt his priest told him that, "God clearly wanted him to be a dancer." His mother however did not approve of his career as a dancer, and once told Charlie Barnet that she would rather see him operating an elevator than performing with his band. Wanderin' Blues CBS-TV Telecast (Ford Star Time Theater) on March 8, 1960 - "The Swingin' Singin' Years" Personnel includes: Barnet, tenor (on Redskin Rhumba intro) and soprano saxophone; Bob Jung, alto sax; Don Fagerquist, trumpet; Dick Nash, trombone; John Bannister, piano: Harry Babasin, bass; Unidentified, drums. Incidentally, even in 1960 — they were still introducing him as "the Mad Mab." Charlie Barnet developed what he termed a ‘love affair’ with California and retired to Palm Springs where he and his eleventh (and final) wife had an, “…oleander-fringed swimming pool and his-and-hers Cadillacs”17 — with a secondary apartment in San Diego where he maintained a 40-foot yacht with a 500-mile cruising range that he would take out a month at a time when the weather in Palm Springs got too hot.18 He died from complications of Alzheimer's disease and pneumonia at San Diego's Hillside Hospital, on September 4, 1991, at the age 77. A life well lived, indeed. Thanks for the swinging music, Charlie. N O T E S 1 Charlie Barnet, “Those Swinging Years: The Autobiography of Charlie Barnet,” (Louisiana State University Press, 1984; DaCapo Press Edition, 1992), 34 2 Ibid. 55 3 Dan Mather, “Charlie Barnet: An Illustrated Biography and Discography,” (McFarland & Company, Inc., Publishers, 2002) 13 4 I bid. 16 5 Ibid. 6 Ibid. 17 7 Barnet, op. cit. 65 8 Ibid. 9 Ibid. 10 Barnet, op. cit. 67 11 Loc. cit. 12 Barnet, op. cit. 68 13 Ibid. 71 14 Ibid. 77 15 Mather, op. cit. 40 16 Ibid. 53 17 George T. Simon, “The Swing Era 1944-1945: The Golden Age of Network Radio,” (Time, Inc., 1970) 34 18 Ibid.
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![]() Charles Daly Barnet, more popularly known in the jazz world as Charlie Barnet, was born in New York City on October 26, 1913. While not necessarily my favorite big band leader, he was certainly one of them — at least from a musical standpoint. For me, the most romping versions of his band were in what I thought was its heyday during the late 1940s. He never became as well-known as some of his other leading counterparts of the era. I think this was probably due to the fact that he seldom let his music get in the way of having a good time, and so he wasn’t as driven and focused on personal success as an Artie Shaw, Benny Goodman, or a Tommy Dorsey. And for me, that’s a large part of his appeal. Here was a guy who ran a string of successful bands from 1928 through 1965, was known for his ability to consume a fifth of scotch a night in his prime, traveled with a personal valet and two monkeys — Herman and Rebop, and was married at least eleven times, — with some biographers contending it was really thirteen.1 Barnet readily admits his good fortune in life in which money, or lack thereof, was never an issue. He came from a prominent family in New York. His grandfather at the time was an executive vice-president of the New York Central Railroad in-charge of its passenger traffic department. Charles Daly Barnet had such a meteoric rise and stunning reputation in the industry that newspaper accounts in 1908 openly speculated that he was poised to succeed William E. Newman as president of the New York Central.2 Charlie contended in his autobiography that it was his grandfather who had the idea for the 20th Century Limited operating between New York and Chicago on its initial schedule of 20 hours.3 That may well have been true, but if it was, it’s a fact that has seemingly been lost to history, save for Charlie’s recollection. Rail historians generally credit George H. Daniels, general passenger agent for the New York Central, as the man who, “…conceived, fought for, and christened,” the 20th Century Limited, which had its inaugural run on June 15, 1902.4 In fairness to Mr. Barnet’s recollection, and having worked in the railroad business for half a century, I can attest that it’s not really that uncommon to come up with an idea and have someone else appropriate it and run with it. Charles Daly didn’t get promoted to vice president of traffic until 1906 — four years after the inaugural run of the train. Prior to that he worked as a passenger agent for various New York Central affiliated lines, which would certainly put him in a position to come up with the idea. So, I think we can’t really fully assess the validity of Charlie’s claim without further research, which is beyond the scope of this post. In his autobiography, Barnet recounts that his mother divorced his father when he was only two years old. He indicated that both of his parents had an innate musical sense and could play the piano. His mother had told him that, when coming home from a musical show, his father could, “…go to the piano and play the whole score,” by ear.5 He indicated that his mother never had a bad thing to say about his father, and that he thought his mother was still in love with him. His grandfather, Charles Frederick Daly, “was [apparently] so incensed by something that he did that he forced the issue of the divorce.”6 He claims he never saw his father again after the separation and divorce — which is probably true.7
Charlie’s parents separated in March 1916 and ultimately divorced. But throughout 1916, the family was prominent enough for the New York Times and Sun to carry ongoing stories regarding the custody battle for Charlie between his mother and father. The newspaper reports indicated that during this period, Willard Barnet made repeated attempts to reconcile with his wife. Remembering that at this time, Charlie would still have been less than three years old, it is not surprising that he would have not recollected, nor have any knowledge of this. Charlie’s mother Charline had to sue her ex-husband after he refused to release his son — and his nurse! — after a scheduled visitation.8 After Charlie had finally been returned to his mother, Willard Barnet then sued Charles Daly for $500,000 in a continued effort to reconcile with his wife and to regain custody of young Charlie, citing Daly as causing the alienation of his wife’s affections.9 His petition was ultimately denied by the judge after determining that Charlie, either being held somewhere in the Adirondacks, or in the state of Maine (there were conflicting contemporary newspaper reports), could not be brought back to New York City without undue risk to his health — ostensibly due to a polio epidemic in New York at the time.10 Once Willard Barnet ultimately lost any custody of his son, he apparently drifted out of Charlie’s life and died in the Tampa Bay area in Florida on November 7, 1933 at age 44. He remarried in 1932 in Florida to one Ola Belle Knott and died the following year.11 There’s one final irony to the story regarding Charlie Barnet’s father. In his autobiography, Charlie recollects, “As executive vice president of the New York Central Railroad, he [Charles Daly] was entitled to a private car to travel around the country for business and pleasure. I vaguely remember making a trip in it to Florida with my mother and grandmother.”12 As it turns out, that trip was, among other things, reported in the press. The arrival of Charlie and his mother, along with his grandparents “in a private car of the New York Central,” was reported on February 10, 1917 [arrived] into the village of Belleair Heights — no doubt for a stay at the Belleview Hotel, which was coincident with the celebration of Gasparilla Week in the Tampa Bay area.13 The private car would have arrived on a regularly scheduled train at the Clearwater rail station over the Seaboard Air Line railroad. By early 1917 of course, Willard would have been completely out of Charlie’s life — the Daly family having endured and resolved all of the custody litigation from the previous fall. It’s a remarkable coincidence that his father would ultimately be buried in a cemetery less than a mile away from that train station, 16 years after his young son made a trip as a 3-year-old to Clearwater and Belleair Heights on a New York Central business car with his family. Willard Barnet never got to see the fame (and notoriety) his son ultimately achieved. After her separation and divorce from Willard Barnet, Charlene and young Charlie lived with her parents. By his own account, Charlie felt that he was given a stable, comfortable and loving upbringing, and expressed gratitude for that in his autobiography. Charlie’s grandfather ultimately resigned from the New York Central out of disdain for the manner in which the federal government had nationalized and managed America’s railroads under the auspices of the United States Railroad Administration during and after World War I. He went on to become president of Liberty Bank and a vice president of Durant Motors, a company founded by Buick and General Motors founder William Durant. The company produced cars for 10 years, from 1921 through 1931, before going defunct. Charles Daly ultimately died at his home in Manhattan in 1928 at Bretton Hall from heart disease, after suffering a heart attack while traveling through Europe.
Barnet also recounted that, during this stay, and through a schoolfriend he met while attending the Berkeley-Irving School in New York City, whose father was playwright Vincent Lawrence, got him a part as an extra in the 1930 Paramount Pictures’ production of “Playboy of Paris,” starring Maurice Chevalier and Frances Dee (her film debut). Barnet claims he played three uncredited parts in the film: a barber, a man on a bicycle, and a patron sitting at a table in a club.17 It’s incredible to me how Barnet always found ways to get these kinds of opportunities for himself. This would be an ongoing theme throughout his life and career. I’ve also always been amazed at the speed with which Charlie Barnet got himself established in the music business, formed his own bands, and even began recording — especially given the slowness with which he ultimately began to credibly read music, as his propensity was virtually always to work his playing of tunes out by ear. He picked up his practical musical experience by playing random dance jobs, through which he met another musician, who had a regular gig as the Golden Pheasant restaurant on 23rd Street at Union Square. Through this musician, Charlie was able to land a regular job with the band that played the Golden Pheasant.18 It wasn’t long at all during his stint playing Chinese restaurants in Manhattan that Charlie got the urge to start his own group and get himself booked on a trans-Atlantic ocean liner. In his words, he began haunting, “…the fly-by-night offices that handled such matters.”19 In July 1929, he signed a contract with Louis’ Booking Office in the Gaiety Theater building at 46th Street and Broadway for a five-piece band on the SS Republic, a United States Line vessel, between Hoboken, New Jersey and Bremerhaven, Germany.
With union membership came the ability to get better gigs, and Barnet ended up with a band known as Frank Winegar and his Pennsylvania Boys which had a number of recordings during the late 1920s. It was not a jazz band in any sense, and the bassline was played using a sousaphone — which is pretty much everything you need to know. But it was his stint in this band where he finally began learning how to read music in earnest. Charlie left the Winegar band in early 1932 and decided to head south, then west, freelancing (a very charitable use of the term here) with guitarist Scoop Tomson, picking-up additional musicians along the way — most notably Jack Purvis, in Louisiana. The exploits recounted by Barnet during this trek through the Deep South, Texas, Mexico, Arizona, and finally ending up in Los Angeles, defy belief, and I would refer the reader to Barnet’s autobiography for those interested in the details.
In the follow-up post, we'll briefly review the work of subsequent versions of this orchestra and listen to some of its music to hopefully instill an appreciation for the leader's musical tastes and style. T O B E C O N T I N U E D N O T E S 1 George T. Simon, “The Swing Era 1944-1945: The Golden Age of Network Radio,” (Time, Inc., 1970) 34 2 Associated Press, (1908, October 5). “Daly Says He is Not to Succeed Newman.” The Buffalo Times 3 3 Charlie Barnet, “Those Swinging Years: The Autobiography of Charlie Barnet,” (Louisiana State University Press, 1984; DaCapo Press Edition, 1992), 1-2 4 Arthur D. Dubin, “Some Classic Trains,” (Kalmbach Publishing Co., 1964), 58 5 Charlie Barnet, “Those Swinging Years: The Autobiography of Charlie Barnet,” (Louisiana State University Press, 1984; DaCapo Press Edition, 1992), 1-2 6 Ibid., 2 7 Ibid., 2 8 (1916, May 20) “Wife Sues Barnet: Declares Her Husband ‘Unfit’ to Have the Care of a 2-Year-Old Son,” The New York Times 20 9 (1916, September 7) “Cause of $500,000 Suit: Husband Sues Her Father, Vice President of New York Central Lines, for Alienation of Affections,” Chicago Tribune 7 10 (1916, September 7) “Court Says Barnet Cannot See Child: ‘Safety First,’ Asserts Judge, Who Fears Boy Will Catch Paralysis,”New York Sun 5 11 Find a Grave - William Raymond Barnet, Clearwater Municipal Cemetery, Pinellas County, Florida, USA (https://www.findagrave.com/memorial/24860728/willard-raymond-barnet) 12 Barnet, loc. cit. 13 (1917, February 11) “Patriotism at Belleair,” Brooklyn (NY) Eagle 42 14 Barnet, op. cit. 5 15 Ibid. 6 16 I bid. 7 17 Barnet, op. cit. 42, 43 18 Ibid. 10 19 Ibid. 10 20 Dan Mather, “Charlie Barnet: An Illustrated Biography and Discography,” (McFarland & Company, Inc., Publishers, 2002) 2 21 Ibid. 3, 4 22 “Jack Purvis,” Wikipedia, last modified on 11 November 2024, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jack_Purvis 23 Ibid. 24 Ibid. 25 Ibid. 26 Mather, op. cit. 8 27 Ibid. For close to the last 10 years or my career, I found myself longing more and more towards my ultimate retirement. No more getting up on those cold, dark winter mornings between 4:00 and 5:00am, I thought. No more 2 ½ to 3-hour commutes to my office in New York City — or the 60 to 70-hour workweeks. Not to mention having to put up with the seemingly never-ending posturing, end-runs or even sniper attacks by overly-ambitious corporate guerillas who count themselves as co-workers. Ah yes. Retirement. That golden period of life when I could finally work on that novel; pursue the study of music; catch-up on all of that deferred reading, and wake-up on my own without the alarm clock, asking myself, “What do I want to do today?” It all just seemed too good to be true. And guess what? It was. At least to a degree. I do wake-up on my own without the alarm clock — generally between 7:30 and 8:30 each morning. So far so good. But then I immediately come face-to-face with what turned out to be one of my most significant challenges in retirement — time management. How could that possibly be, one might ask? The whole idea of retirement is not to have to manage one’s time — because that’s the one thing of which a retiree is supposed to have in profuse abundance. Is it not? Here is what I very quickly learned about the passage of time in one’s retirement: a rigorous, self-disciplined approach to time management is arguably far more critical in retirement than when still working full-time. Why? Because it is far more insidiously easy to squander away whole days, weeks, and even months during one’s retirement than one ever could while still working full-time. When working, most of us have structured activities at specific times during the day that are mostly imposed on us by our employer, or dictates of our business requirements if self-employed. While engaged in performing these activities, which we often grudgingly refer to as “the grind” or “the rat race.” But they do serve a useful function in that they structure our daily activities so that we actually accomplish something, presumably measurable, each day (whether we want to do it or not). Full retirement, however, is another story — as I was to find out. I woke up slightly after 7:30 that first day, was shaved and dressed and downstairs in the kitchen making coffee by 8:15. I retired to my library to savor my first cup of coffee and to check emails on my smartphone followed by some light reading. A couple more cups of coffee and I noticed that it was almost noontime! “What happened to the entire morning?” I thought. After puttering around and taking care of what seemed to be a few simple, mundane items in my library, I checked the time and saw that it was approaching 2 o’clock. It seemed that I had only been working about 10 minutes — but 2 hours had elapsed. What the hell happened? Had I been a victim of missing time? Given that it was early March, I was fast approaching the time — weather permitting — for my outdoor afternoon ritual of a fine hand-rolled cigar with 4 ounces of bourbon, rum, or scotch. The time for this would get later as spring rolled into summer and the days became longer. And on those days that I felt might be particularly special, I would perhaps mix up to three servings of a Manhattan, Sidecar, or Aviation cocktail in a cocktail beaker rather than just imbibe on straight spirits. It would take me close to a half hour to get all of the necessary smoking and mixology paraphernalia into position either on the front patio or rear deck, including the Bluetooth speakers necessary to provide the requisite mood music for the afternoon experience. By the time I lit up the stick and took my first puff, it would be about 2:30. My cigars generally last 2 to 3 hours. That puts me to at least until 5 o’clock. Add another 20-30 minutes for clean-up and putting everything away, and we’re now going on to 6 o’clock. Time for a dinner with my lovely wife, then catching a couple hours of the news and streaming programming afterwards, and then it’s time for bed. Realizing that I accomplished absolutely nothing on this day, I rationalized it by counting it as the start of a ‘decompression period’ to adjust from the regimentation of the daily work life. However, as the days turned into weeks and the weeks into months with virtually no change in my daily routine — and no productivity, I realized that my fundamental approach to retirement (which really wasn’t an approach at all) needed to change. Indeed, the fact that this very blog remained fallow all of last year is a testament to just how quickly wasted time can fly by. We are all no doubt familiar with that supremely ironic axiom of life that, the older we get — and the less time we have left — the faster that time whizzes by. I have a theory about that. I think that as we get older, our mental processes gradually and continuously begin slowing down. And as a consequence, it appears to us that time is speeding up. It really isn't — it just appears that way due the ever-decreasing speed of our brain functions. Do you remember how slow time used to pass when we were kids? It seemed like summer vacations lasted forever. I believe that's because our little brains were working a mile-a-minute — absorbing everything around us like sponges. But alas, that almost imperceptible, gradual slowing process seems to commence by the time we hit adolescence. So, while we can;t do anything about the continual slowing of our thought processes, we can still make the most of the time we have about being smarter and more disciplined with the way we use the time remaining to us. There are multiple ways to do this. What I'm about to describe is what simply works for me. The first thing I did was to establish structure to both what I wanted to achieve during these years — both short-term and long — and how I expected to fulfill those objectives through specific actions. I also knew that writing down those goals and steps towards implementation was extremely important in achieving them. I started by establishing benchmarks for what I wanted to achieve during the next 12 months. In my case, it was the completion of the first draft of my novel; where I wanted to be in my progression in the study of music; a schedule for reinvigorating this blog with key topics I wanted to feature throughout the year; and finally, identifying and forecasting sources of additional income to supplement my pensions (because having to reduce one’s discretionary expenditures during retirement….. sucks). If you think achieving each of your goals will go beyond a calendar quarter, make sure you estimate (and write it down on the same document) where you think you need to be at the end of each quarter to make you projected end-date. Once your goals and associated milestones have been established for the upcoming year, you should create daily checklists for yourself as reminders of what you want to accomplish each and every day in order to make your milestones. If you don’t do this, trust me — time will absolutely get away from you beginning Day 1. Take some time over morning coffee or tea to review your progress on a weekly basis to digest the progress you’ve made over the previous week, and to make adjustments to either your daily activities or milestones, if needed. Above: One of numerous potential approaches that can be taken during retirement with which to resist the propensity to simply watch time (and life) pass-by with disconcerting speed. Now if all of this seems like way too much work to embark upon during your retirement — that’s absolutely your choice. One of the few great things about retirement is that you get to determine how you want to live it. Some of us are perfectly content with waking up each morning simply enjoying the relaxation and watching the day pass by.
I don’t happen to be cut from that cloth. And as a result, I developed the strategies I’m outlining here as hopefully helpful suggestions for those retirees with a like mindset. There are certain things I’ve wanted to accomplish in my life that I deferred to my retirement when I would “have more time.” And this brings me to the final point I would like to make, from my own experience, regarding waiting for anything in life. First, tomorrow is not guaranteed. My wife and I have both been fortunate to make into our retirement years — but not everyone in life is so blessed. So, if you find you have special things you want to accomplish in your life, start working on achieving them once you know what they are — even if you think you don’t have the time while you’re still working and perhaps even supporting a growing family. Second, even if you make it to retirement, you have no idea what your mental acuity or physical capabilities will be like once you get there — and those factors could make achieving your personal aspirations more difficult. As for me, my mental and physical capabilities still seem to be adequate, but the degradation of my vision makes it more difficult for me to do the kinds of things I want to do. And let’s face it — in terms of me fulfilling one of my own aspirations, mastering a musical instrument at age 70 is much more difficult than at age 7 — of even age 37. So, the earlier you can start, I think the better your chances of seeing true fulfillment. And finally, one of the more sinister aspects of retirement, at least for me, has been what I perceived to be age stereotyping and perhaps even discrimination. I worked continuously in railroad operations for 50 years before retiring two years ago. I took six months off, and when I decided I wanted to return to being actively engaged in business activities with others, I couldn’t help but get the sense that I was being perceived as frankly old, maybe tired, passé, and perhaps even irrelevant to the reality of the today’s world. I sensed people looking at me thinking, “You’re retired. Why do you want to do anything? Go back to the ‘home.’ The world is moving on (and you ain’t part of it).” Hopefully this is not the experience of many others in my age group. But I for one do not intend to fade quietly into the night. I have stuff I wanna do, and things I want to share. And I intend to do it with the time I have left. So it’s for those like-minded individuals that I wanted to share my own thoughts about effective time management during the retirement years. ‘Cause it’s easy to waste, and we don’t have much left. I hope this may have been helpful to some. Good luck! © 2025 David Nogar All Rights Reserved As a preface to this blog post, kindly reference my posts from October 14, 2018 and August 12, 2023 regarding the late jazz vocalist Helen Carr for additional background and contextual information regarding the event described here.
When she died, it appears it was left to her son Gordon to handle her funeral arrangements, and she ended up here. Her son Gordon was just 18 years old when she died, stationed at Fort Hamilton in Brooklyn with the U.S. Army. Gordon died in 1988, and we have very little information about him. I came out to this site a few years ago in an effort to see if Helen Carr’s date of birth was inscribed on her gravestone, as I could not find any record of her birth date - and it was at that time that we discovered that her grave was not marked. So Ms. Carr’s niece Jean, and I, both knew we needed to mark this grave - and that’s what brings us here today, We don’t know what kind of funeral service Helen Carr was given here 63 years ago. We do know that she was raised as a Christian as a youngster, and we are here to provide her with a Christian service today as we dedicate her grave marker. St. Luke’s Lutheran Church is a Church of which I was once a member back in the 1980s, and it’s located only three blocks from Helen Carr’s last Manhattan residence. It’s a wonderful place of worship that just celebrated its 100th anniversary, and we’re very honored and privileged to have Dr. Arden Strasser join us for today’s service."
© 2024 David Nogar All Rights Reserved
Mention the enjoyment of a fine hand-rolled cigar these days, and many if not most, will take a disdainful look at the person suggesting the enjoyment of something so unhealthy, smelly and unsightly. After all, the stereotype of the middle-aged, overweight, sweaty male, chomping on a stogie, will no doubt fulfill the image most non-smokers may have of your basic cigar smoker. About 5% of American adults currently smoke cigars. 8% of those cigar smokers are male; about 2% are female – and that number is growing annually. For example, about 7.6% of all U.S. high school students smoke cigars; but 6.2% of all female high school students smoke cigars on a regular basis – more than three times as many adult females. These figures come directly from the CDC.
Take it for what it’s worth. From this point onward, this article is for those who remain open to new sensory, life experiences that have proven themselves for hundreds of years – and how to make the most of them. What to Smoke The selection today of quality, hand-rolled cigars is enormous. If you’re new to cigar smoking, my advice would be to try as many as you can so that you can ultimately settle down on what you truly like. And you won’t know until you come across it. Cigars come in all shapes, sizes, strengths, characteristics and flavors. Everyone’s tastes are unique – and cigars will be no exception. My own personal favorites include:
In my opinion, you can’t go wrong with any of these. Each one has its own unique characteristics, aroma and flavors. Any Padron, and to a somewhat lesser extent, Davidoff's The Late Hour for example, always have an easy draw, good even burn, and they put out plenty of smoke. The Partagas D5 is currently my favorite Cuban cigar. The Macanudo Gold Label is an exceptionally mild smoke with a velvety texture on the tongue and in the mouth. The Cohiba Siglo VI isn't a bad smoke, but thanks to the recent extortionist pricing policy of Habanos S.A., the state-run tobacco company in Cuba, the Siglo VI is now going for about $130 a stick - and it is positively not worth the money. You're better off going with any of the other favorites I identified above. If you must smoke a Cuban, I would definitely recommend any Partagas Serie D. If there is a particular cigar you think you’d like to try, but are unsure if you will like it – look-up the cigar online and read some reviews to get an idea of the flavor and aroma notes of it. But also don’t be afraid to try something completely unknown. Pairing With Spirits and Other Beverages
For a straight spirits accompaniment, try a McCallum 12 or 18, Dalmore Cigar Malt, Knob Creek bourbon, Weller's 12-Year bourbon, Martel Blue Swift or cognac, or maybe even some 15 or 21-year Appleton Estate Jamaican rum (if you can find it), all on the rocks. Every different combination will be a rewarding experience. Interestingly, one beverage that gets mentioned consistently as being excellent to pair with cigars is coffee - especially expresso. I have also often paired with craft soft drinks such as artisanal root beer, vanilla cream or black cherry soda, or cola – all with excellent results on a hot day. And yes, Coke works just fine - at least for me. Pairing with Food
No Hard and Fast Rules The main thing to keep in mind however is not to be reluctant to try as many different cigar-drink-food pairings as you can. They are as infinite and complex as wine and food pairing – and arguably more versatile. Don't forget, cigar tobacco - like wine - varies by climate, soil conditions, the aging and seasoning processes used, and the techniques used by the torcedors in a given location or country. So give this a try. Sitting outside on a cool summer evening with a fine cigar, quality whiskey, and some cool jazz playing in the background..... it's quite hard to beat. I've had some of my most profound thoughts about life during these sessions. Cheers! © 2024 David Nogar All Rights Reserved
This blog post is about three years late. Almost five years ago, I did a blog post regarding jazz vocalist, Helen Carr, which can be found here. It was really only intended as a one-time post to provide some information about a little-remembered vocalist of whom very little information was known - despite the fact that she recorded with many significant jazz artists of the day, and still has two albums in print. That post prompted contact from Helen Carr’s niece, who lives in Washington state. I won’t mention her name here out of respect for her privacy. During the course of our communications, she very graciously provided me with additional information and assistance regarding her aunt, which prompted me to do further research. Despite some conflicting information on the Internet, Helen Carr died from complications resulting from cancer at 4:20am on Tuesday, September 20, 1960 at Roosevelt Hospital in Manhattan, which is now part of Mount Sinai West, located two blocks west from Columbus Circle and Central Park South. She did not die in an automobile accident as has sometimes been reported. The mortuary handling her burial was the Joseph T. Kennedy Funeral Chapel at 941 Amsterdam Avenue, about seven blocks north of the hospital. For some reason however, arrangements were made to bury Helen Carr at Rose Hill Cemetery in Linden, New Jersey on September 24th. And that is where she is today. It appears it was left to Helen’s son Gordon to handle all of the funeral arrangements. At the time, Gordon Carr was serving in the U.S. Army at Fort Hamilton in Brooklyn. He himself passed away in New York City in 1988 at the age of 42. I made a trip out to Rose Hill Cemetery several years ago to see what additional information might be gleaned from the inscription on her gravestone. To this day for example, no record of Helen Carr’s birth can be found, and no one in her family today knows the actual date of her birth. I thought this information might be found on her gravestone. However, when I got to her plot, I found that there is no gravestone. Helen Carr is buried in an unmarked grave. So at this point in her life, it appeared that Helen and her son had each other - but it seems that was pretty much it. Consequently, lack of funds for a more elaborate burial may very well have been an issue. Nonetheless in surveying the situation out at the cemetery, I just knew we couldn’t let it stay this way. I can imagine few things sadder than struggling and scraping to achieve the dreams and ambitions of your youth, only to die at the very young age of 37 - probably alone - and to be buried in a place where there’s nothing to mark your resting place. Surely Helen Carr deserved better than that. So, I informed Helen’s niece of what I found, and we worked together to do the right thing. Without her support and approval as Helen’s closest living relative, we would never be where we are today.
© 2024 David Nogar All Rights Reserved
The past six months have certainly been interesting ones, to say the least. At no time in human history has a respiratory disease been used as a pretext - on a global scale - for curtailing civil liberties, driving millions into unemployment - not to mention the permanent closure of hundreds of thousands of small businesses. And of course, let's not forget the 'mandatory' mask mandates by government fiat. We are told to avoid handling cash. Too easy to spread the virus that way, they say. Instead, use only credit or debit cards, so that there is an electronic record of every one of your purchases. Is it a coincidence that promoted or mandated exclusive use of these cards can also provide for direct, 3rd party control over your money, when the appropriate time comes? We're being told to acclimate to a 'new normal.' But what will such a 'new normal' look like? Permanent masks while in public? Will bars and restaurants, as we know them, ever be allowed to open again? Will we ever be able to go to the theater or to a jazz club again? Perhaps not until we're all forced to take a mandatory vaccine? For a flâneur who wants to savor life, as well as enjoy and appreciate those with whom he/she shares humanity - these are ominous, if not sinister times, indeed. But these are all rhetorical questions, which may or may not be answered as events continue to unfold, and are not within the scope to address here. Those questions will be discussed at length in subsequent posts as we explore the real reasons we find ourselves trapped in this new reality of the year 2020. And trust me, it's a rabbit hole as deep and as sinister as it gets. For now, the question at hand for this post then is, given the circumstances of our new reality - what is a flâneur to do? The first and most basic element in flânerie is Social Interaction. Social Interaction has been significantly curtailed over the past six months due to: our virtual house arrests since mid-March; the mask mandates; and the apparent mass neuroses of getting too close to other human beings for fear of contracting the COVID-19 contagion. It's hard to imagine a more effective combination of factors that could be as damaging to our common humanity and bonds to one another, than by establishing these artificial, and mostly unwarranted barriers. #socialengineeringatitsworst We're not going to get into the reasons for this here, as I previously mentioned, but rather we'll talk about how to still get the most out of life as a flâneur under these most trying of circumstances. 1. Social Interaction (with Those Closest to You) If you lost your job or other income as a result of government actions in response to the virus, hopefully you have been able to obtain unemployment or small business assistance and other special considerations for paying your monthly expenses until you can return to generating other income or wages and catch-up - or otherwise resolve your outstanding financial obligations. Particularly if you have a family, this will be an overriding consideration until these life circumstances change. Sometimes life throws overwhelming challenges at us, and certain things must be set aside until we can stabilize or situation - but that doesn't mean we have to stop living. In the meantime however, most of us will be spending more time than ever at home, and this provides us with a unique opportunity in which to spend much more quality time with our families, as well as for our own introspection and intellectual pursuits. My wife an I spend an evening cocktail hour out on our front terrace every day, weather permitting. It provides us with an opportunity to spend time together that we would ordinarily never have time to do - giver our pre-lockdown work schedules. Therefore, try to turn this situation into a positive experience if you can, by rediscovering your own spouse or family.
© 2020 David Nogar All Rights Reserved
“With a million neon rainbows burning below me And a million blazing taxis raising a roar Here I sit, above the town In my pet pailletted gown Down in the depths on the ninetieth floor…" - An excerpt from a composition by Cole Porter, written for the 1936 Broadway musical, Red, Hot, and Blue When one comes across the name Helen Carr, to many people it often has a very vague ring of familiarity to it. Who was that? Was she in films? In music? But in reality, most people don’t know Helen Carr. Nor have they probably seen or heard any of her work. To those who know of her, she has an aura of legend and mystery – principally because there is so little known about her, and because of her premature death – the cause of which very little is also publicly known. Helen Carr was a jazz singer. The actual location of her birth presently remains undefinitive, although both the 1930 and 1940 U.S. Census records record her birthplace as Utah, and the liner notes of her Bethlehem album, Down in the Depths of the 90th Floor further confirm that she, "hails from Salt Lake City." However, no corroborating documentation has yet been found. Various sources report multiple dates for the year of her birth, ranging from 1922 to 1928. Her second husband, pianist Donn Trenner indicated that she had, “…never been honest about her age.”[1] My guess is that October, 1922 is probably the most accurate date based on U.S. Census records and private family correspondence, making her five years older than Trenner. Helen Carr, Sammy Herman, Joe Bianco and Donn Trenner in New York City, February 1947 Photograph by William F. Gottlieb She was attractive and had a pleasing voice, but she would not be my favorite type of jazz singer. Her voice was soft and breathy – almost sounding like a bluesy Marilyn Monroe. She was clearly a mature singer who was in command of her material and was quite poised on the bandstand. Donn Trenner opined that he could hear the influence of Billie Holiday in her voice. I think that’s a bit of a stretch, but she did have a sultry quality, and she could interpret music with great feeling.[2] The jazz vocalists I truly prefer are always women, but are also those who can project with great clarity – and who can swing – even on ballads. That is why my favorite will probably always be Ella Fitzgerald, followed very closely by the best jazz vocalist working today, Vanessa Rubin. When Donn Trenner first met Helen Carr, it was on a double-date with Jimmy Hanson, a tenor saxophone player with the Ted Fio Rito band in 1945. They had just finished their gig at the Golden Gate Theater in San Francisco, and drove to the Mondre Café in Oakland with two women they had met earlier. Trenner was driving the car, and when he looked at Helen Carr in the rear view mirror seated on the back seat with Hanson, he knew that she was the woman he really wanted.[3] At the time, she was an operator for, “… a telephone service in bars and late-night clubs where one could dial-up a song. You told the operator what song you wanted to hear and they would play it from their central station.”[4] Shortly thereafter, Donn Trenner was drafted into the military, but he continued to date and remain in touch with Helen Carr. At one point he was transferred to Scott Air Force Base near Belleville, Illinois about 25 miles east of downtown St. Louis, and Helen moved to the Midwest to be near him. The Chase Park Plaza Hotel in St. Louis, Missouri and accompanying Steeplechase Room - just one of a number of entertainment venues that have been part of this iconic hotel for decades. She moved into a place next to the Chase Park Plaza Hotel in St. Louis. According to Donn Trenner’s autobiography, “They had a venue called the Steeplechase Room with a trio lead by a great guitarist, Joe Schirmer. That’s where Helen learned one of Cole Porter’s lesser-known songs, “Down in the Depths of the 90th Floor." The song has three different segments; it’s not written as a standard thirty-two bar song form. It tells a story, which requires a distribution of different emotions within the lyric content.”[5] That song became one that is most associated with Helen Carr, as hers is arguably the definitive version – in much the same manner as Artie Shaw’s version of Cole Porter’s “Begin the Beguine” is certainly the most definitive version of that. Interesting to note, by-the-way, that neither song follows the standard 32-bar format. When Donn Trenner was discharged from the military in the autumn of 1946, he and Helen Carr moved to New York City to a small flat on West 86th Street and began looking for work. Several months later they eloped, getting married in Elkton, Maryland.[6] But unfortunately from the outset, even before they got married, there were behaviors exhibited by Helen that ultimately doomed the marriage. According to Trenner, she, “… reacted in negative ways whenever she was in the presence of other women.” He at first attributed it to insecurity, but he soon realized that it was more than jealousy, and characterized it as a neurosis.”[7] Remember too as noted earlier, the wide variation in her reported dates of birth, as she frequently, apparently misled about her age. I won’t elaborate on this behavior in terms of her jealousy and mistrust any further here, but for those who wish to research this aspect of Helen Carr’s life further, I would refer you to Donn Trenner’s autobiography. During this period, Donn Trenner claimed he could only play with bands where a spot could also be guaranteed for Helen Carr, or things just wouldn’t work out given her behavioral issues. They played with Blue Barron and Chuck Foster, and ultimately got a call to join Buddy Morrow in 1947. After the work with Buddy Morrow ended in 1948, the couple moved back to San Francisco where they had first met, and where Helen had a child named Gordon from her first marriage still residing. Even at this point, Trenner claims that he did not know much about Helen Carr’s past.[8] An East Coast edition of The Donn Trio and Helen, featuring Sammy Herman and Joe Bianco, in New York City. The West Coast, and presumably original edition of The Donn Trio and Helen, with John Setar on reeds and Tony DeNicola on drums, late 1947 or 1948. Once back in San Francisco, they put together their own group, known as The Donn Trio and Helen, which was together for about a year when Charlie Barnet made the couple an offer to tour with his big band, which they did during 1950-51. This resulted in Helen Carr’s only known filmed performance, a Snader Telescription, which also included Donn Trenner playing piano. The only known filmed performance of Helen Carr, here with Charlie Barnet & His Orchestra, and with Donn Trenner on piano. There was some excellent research done on the Obscure & Neglected Female Singers of Jazz & Standards forum that indicated while in San Francisco, an article in the Oakland Tribune on Friday, July 22, 1949 reported that Helen Carr was awarded five weeks’ custody of her son who was living in a foster home after her divorce from her first husband, Walter A. Carr, a chef in Orinda, CA on November 24, 1947. (Note that according to Donn Trenner’s autobiography, they were married in Elkton, Maryand in late 1946 or very early 1947.)[9] The California Birth Index indicates that Helen’s son, Gordon William Carr, was born on August 2, 1942, and that Helen Carr’s maiden name was Huber.[10] The Oakland Tribune on Friday, June 13, 1941 recorded a marriage license issued in Reno, Nevada to Helen M. Huber (age 19) and Walter A. Carr, both of Oakland. So that, along with the 1930 and 1940 U.S. Census records, would seem to solve the mystery of her birth year (e.g., 1922).[11] Researching her name in the 1930 and 1940 Census and other newspaper records indicate that she was living with her parents in Danville, Illinois in 1930; in Kansas City, Missouri when her father died in 1936; in Seattle, Washington with her widowed mother in 1940, working as an usherette in a theater; and finally shown as being registered to vote in Alameda County, California with her mother by 1944 (though married in 1941).[12] After leaving Charlie Barnet, Donn Trenner worked with Les Brown from 1954 to 1961. Helen was not part of the band, but she did travel frequently with her husband. During this period however, she picked up recording gigs and club dates when she was able, including two record albums for the Bethlehem label in 1955. The first being, Down in the Depths of the 90th Floor, followed by, Why Do I Love You. Interestingly, her picture never appeared on either album cover.
While in Philadelphia finishing an engagement with Oscar Pettiford and Anita O'Day, three days before Mothers’ Day, Trenner was in a greeting card store looking for a card for Helen when he was approached by a woman who asked him if he was ‘all right’ because he looked rather sad. They spoke for a few minutes, and while he claims she wasn’t soliciting for a date, she left him with a card that had her name and telephone number written on it in case he needed someone to talk with. While back in his hotel room, he was writing a thank you note to the woman when Helen, who had been in New York, unexpectedly arrived at his room to drive him back to Manhattan. So he shoved the half-written note under a pillow, and of course his wife found it.[13] A very bad move indeed. All of this only reinforced Helen Carr’s mistrust in him. Nonetheless, they headed off back to New York from Philadelphia in their blue Buick, and an argument ensued in the car, to the point where she was apparently beating Trenner over the head with her shoe while he was driving. As he approached the toll plaza to the Pennsylvania Turnpike, he pulled off to the side of the road, dove out of the car and ran for cover in some bushes, all of this occurring at about 2 o’clock in the morning.[14] According to Trenner, she drove back and forth several times looking for him while he was hiding in the bushes, until finally getting on the Turnpike and returning to New York alone. Trenner returned to Philadelphia for the night. The woman with whom Donn Trenner spoke in the greeting card store was named Joan Martin, who also happened to be a close friend of Chan Parker, Charlie Parker’s wife. Chan lived in New Hope, Pennsylvania and owned an ice cream parlor called the Bird’s Nest. That was where he ultimately found Joan Martin who came back to Philadelphia and took Trenner to her apartment until he returned to New York. While back in New York, Trenner claims he found papers proving that Helen Carr had never gotten divorced from her first husband (although this would appear to be contrary to the Oakland Tribune article from 1949), so he was able to get his marriage to Helen annulled. All of this would have been around 1958. Chan Parker married Phil Woods shortly thereafter (Charlie Parker died in 1955) and left New Hope, PA for France in 1959.
This young girl, who lost her father at about age 14, and who traveled around the country with her mother until ultimately settling in northern California, became a big band and a club jazz singer who recorded two albums that were reissued on CD, and that are still in print – almost 60 years after her death. And there still remains a cadre of jazz researchers and aficionados who want to ensure that this lady – this sensitive and talented human being, is not forgotten. And a worthy aspiration that is, indeed. Rest in true peace, Helen Carr. Manhattan, I'm up a tree The one that I've adored Is bored With me Manhattan, I'm awfully nice Nice people dine with me And even twice Yet the only one in the world I'm mad about Talks of somebody else And walks out With a million neon rainbows burning below me And a million blazing taxis raising a roar Here I sit, above the town In my pet pailletted gown Down in the depths on the ninetieth floor While the crowds at El Morocco punish the parquet And at 21 the couples clamor for more I'm deserted and depressed In my regal eagle nest Down in the depths on the ninetieth floor When the only one you wanted wants another What's the use of swank and cash in the bank galore? Why, even the janitor's wife Has a perfectly good love life And here am I Facing tomorrow Alone with my sorrow Down in the depths on the ninetieth floor. Down in the Depths of the Ninetieth Floor Composed by Cole Porter in 1936 NOTES [1] Donn Trenner and Tim Atherton, Leave It To Me… My Life In Music (Albany, GA: BearManorMedia, 2014), 54. [2] Ibid., 29. [3] Ibid., 23. [4] Ibid., 23. [5] Ibid., 29. [6] Ibid., 31. [7] Ibid., 31. [8] Ibid., 34. [9] http://forums.stevehoffman.tv/threads/obscure-neglected-female-singers-of-jazz-standards-1930s-to-1960s.588217/page-38 [10] Ibid., 38, post by Eric Carlson. [11] Ibid., 38, post by Eric Carlson. [12] Ibid., 38, post by Eric Carlson. [13] Trenner and Atherton op. cit., 53 [14] Trenner and Atherton op. cit., 53 [15] Trenner and Atherton op. cit., 55 © 2018 David Nogar All Rights Reserved
“Now is the winter of [my] discontent, made glorious summer by this sun [that is New] York.” - with deepest apologies to William Shakespeare, for bastardizing his opening line from, Richard III; (not to mention John Steinbeck), however, the relevance of the re-wording should become apparent below. It has been over eight months since my last blog post. There is a reason for this. I have spent the time adjusting to a very difficult new phase of my life – reconciling the realizations, failures and disappointments of the past two years into a positive path forward that will allow me to rebuild momentum in a clear direction and, perhaps above all else, continue to lead the life of a self-professed flâneur who does his best to bless others through his interactions with them. Being a sexagenarian has been a most interesting experience. In working my way up to it, I often heard the term, “golden years,” applied to this period of life, and wondered how that “gold” would manifest itself in my own. I’m a little less than halfway through this ‘golden’ decade now, and to be brutally honest – I expected something much better. It fact, it’s probably been the most unhappy, unsatisfying period of my entire life. At least so far.
As a consultant, I work for a large worldwide firm, and I’m making more money now than at any other time in my career. And I hate every single minute of it. I feel like a whore who pimps himself out for an hourly billable rate, and I see nothing substantive, constructive, or certainly fulfilling, coming out of my billable activity and, more importantly, my remaining time in this life. But yet I continue to do it. Why? Two reasons primarily: 1) the money – and the unwillingness (at least until now) to live on less; and 2) the knowledge that my professional working career for all intents will be over forever once I quit because of my age. I think that pride has a lot to do with it too. I've had the privilege of being able to hold so many responsible positions during the course of my career, that I guess I'm having a hard time reconciling myself to the fact that this is not the way I thought it was all going to end. But we also have no business defining our value as humans through something as superficial (especially in today's crass and narcissistic work environment and culture) as job stature - do we? It's important not to fall into the same trap as perhaps Ethan Allen Hawley from the Steinbeck novel, isn't it? ![]() I also lost a very cherished friend through circumstance, who had provided me with critical emotional support and camaraderie through this period. That loss created a profound emptiness and sadness for me, and I think that’s the point at more than any other time where I really lost my sense of direction, and truly settled into a mindless, depressive routine that’s quite similar to that of a prison work release program: get up; go to work; return home; grab something light to eat; go to bed; get up…. Don’t think about anything else. Just do what you have to do, and get it over with – until the next day. Until you die. Or quit. Such a routine transforms one’s life from truly living in every moment – to just putting in time. And I’ve been horrified to learn that time fast forwards exponentially when you do that. It is precious time wasted, that can never be regained. I cannot believe it’s been over 8 months since my last blog post here. That, shall never happen again. And the power to ensure that rests solely with me. It’s just a matter of making the necessary adjustments to one’s life expectations in order to pursue the true calling. Most of us get wrapped up in this 'game of life’ - that ubiquitous treadmill that ensnares us, fills us with unnecessary desires that make others wealthy, siphons off our time, and sucks us dry through virtually our entire lives. It takes courage to flip the table over, get up, and walk away. That’s what I’ve decided I have to do.
However, such an offline sojourn as this recent one was useful at least in this instance, to help me understand the consequences and imprudence of veering away from the very premise of my blog and website in the first place. That confirmation was definitely needed by me in 2018. And my absence also reaffirmed the pitfalls of social media that I spoke about in laying out the foundations for this blog and website. Don’t live in your smartphone. Live in reality. Go to a bar. Order a drink. Start talking to the person next to you. Turn the phone off. Do something - or at the very least enrich someone's life, even just a little bit, through your interaction with them. You know, I read so many platitudes that people post on their social media pages. So much of it is all the same basic 'let-me-convince-myself-I'm-really-happy-because-I-say-or-think-this' kind of stuff. Everybody seems to be searching for an answer. It’s as though we’re all unhappy. We’re all depressed. We’re all looking for things to get better. Well, what if things aren’t going to get any better? What if, as Jack Nicholson posed the question in the 1997 film, this is truly “as good as it gets?” Trust me. You won't find happiness or fulfillment in your smartphone. All you will do is waste precious time. Follow the desires of your heart instead. Anyway, I did make some good friends over the past 18 months. Ironically, they’re virtually all bartenders. I guess that’s all you need to know about the current state of my mind. So the summer in New York was not without its rewards – including the discovery of some outstanding venues for food, libations, entertainment, and most importantly, social interaction, which will all be reviewed on these pages in upcoming months. If I’m lucky to live as long as my father, I have about 10 years in this life left. That time will fly by in a blink of an eye. How do I really want to spend it? Certainly, not like the last two years, especially. I think I now know. The American Flâneur has, in a manner of speaking, returned. So with the end of summer, comes the autumn and then the winter. And with it, hopefully the ultimate end of the discontent, depression, and what the French call ennui, so that by next spring, the disappointments and sadness will be far behind me, as I move forward down that final stretch, with a renewed sense of purpose and energy. © 2018 David Nogar All Rights Reserved Well, another New Year's Eve is now behind us, and the famous ball high above New York's Time Square has dropped the 141 feet in 60 seconds yet again, heralding the beginning of another year. While most of the world is no doubt quite aware of this annual event in the heart of midtown Manhattan, one is sometimes prompted to ponder to how many people have actually experienced the dropping of the ball in-person.
The tradition of the ball drop at New Year's Eve in Times Square actually began 110 years ago, with the 1907-08 holiday season, which was instituted by Adolph Ochs, who at that time was the publisher of the New York Times. Prior to that, he had used fireworks to herald the beginning of each new year at the newspaper's headquarters at 1 Times Square. To date, there have been a total of six balls used over the past 110 years, with the original one being five feet in diameter, constructed of wood and iron, and illuminated with 100 incandescent light bulbs. The original ball was manually hoisted up the pole by a team of six workmen, and weighed 700 pounds.
The line for the Waterford Crystal cocktail reception queued along 42nd Street to the private elevator lobby. The photo at the right would be the author polishing the Waterford Crystal panels with a flourish using his pocket square. No Windex, however. All of this is to say, that the Times Square Ball has a rather interesting history, and is frankly worth checking out if you get the opportunity - but not on New Year's Eve.
For me, I prefer a quiet New Year's Eve, normally in the solitude and comfort of my own home. I like to reflect on my blessings of the closing year, and to plan for the new year in a way that will allow me to improve as a human, and to make the most beneficial, productive use of my time - as our tomorrows are never guaranteed. Parties with good friends are always great. But for me at least, not on Amateur Night - which occurs regularly on December 31st. And so, to all of my family, friends and readers, I wish you all a healthy, happy, safe and prosperous New Year, filled with all of the blessings life can bring. © 2018 David Nogar All Rights Reserved |
Author
David Nogar worked in railroad operations for almost 50 years until retiring from the transportation business in early 2023.
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