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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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David Nogar worked in railroad operations for almost 50 years until retiring from the transportation business in early 2023.
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