Every Film of Charlie Parker, 10; The TV Host Did Not Insult Bird (But It Was Typical of the Era)

(Paying Subscribers, I have two unique audio supplements for you. This time I am posting them separately as Part 10A.)

Last time we saw the famous TV performance of “Hot House” by Bird and Diz in the most complete copy available. You may have noticed that the host Earl Wilson asks, at one point, "You boys got anything more to say?” In the 1987 documentary film Celebrating Bird, directed by the well-known critic Gary Giddins with Kendrick Simmons, Parker’s common-law wife Chan says that you can see anger on Parker's face when he hears the word "boys." A few seconds later, Parker gives Wilson a look as he says "Good," nods and exits, which Chan says is an example of how Bird "could kill with a look." Somehow her interpretation has become “fact.” Here is her scene from the documentary:

But, since you’ve read other essays that I’ve posted here, you know very well by now that it is my nature to question things. What started me re-thinking about Chan’s account was this: I asked myself, if Wilson hated Black people, why would he have accepted Leonard Feather’s invitation to host them on his show? In those days he certainly was not under pressure to have Black guests on his program. If there was any pressure at all, it would have been to exclude Black artists. And the show always featured an integrated band—Charlie Smith, their regular drummer, was Black! So I started looking into this: Who was Earl Wilson and what really happened on this TV show?

My goal here is not to “clear the name” of Earl Wilson. Nobody even remermbers him today, so that would be a ridiculous effort. Instead, I hope to aim for a more accurate and nuanced discussion of how racism worked then, and today.

In 2004, I consulted with some of my colleagues to find out what they knew about this program. First, jazz historian Dan Morgenstern responded as follows (in an email on May 10, 2004):

While integrated groups were perhaps not common, they were certainly not unheard or unseen, especially on shows originating from New York. Leonard Feather was always eager for opportunities to make the case for tolerance, and while Earl Wilson was certainly a “square,” as we said then, he was no bigot. This is a misreading of what's going on, and as far as Leonard's concerned, he may even have wanted to emphasize that the Downbeat awards went to Black musicians, since the majority of winners were still by far white then.

The late jazz critic and historian Ira Gitler provided some important background about Wilson (also on May 10, 2004): “Earl Wilson, probably through a press agent, often gave Dizzy mentions in his New York Post newspaper column and Dizzy did dedicate a tune to him—’That's Earl, Brother’.”

Yes, at the end of every  column, Wilson would write, "That's Earl, Brother." That was his “catchphrase.” (Get it? It means “That’s all, brother.”) His home base was the Post, but his column, “It Happened Last Night” (a take-off on the title of the popular 1934 movie, It Happened One Night), was syndicated, that is, distributed nationally to many small newspapers. (Many small papers did not have enough staff to write all the articles themselves.) Here is one example out of his many columns— it’s an odd one because it has a typo and a missing letter at the end, so it reads “tha’t earl, brother!” In it, Earl offers news from Dizzy, Lena Horne, the Famous Door nightclub, and more. This was printed in the Uniontown, Pennsylvania newspaper on September 13, 1947:

And here is a report of an event in Harlem that was attended by numerous Black stars including boxer Joe Louis, actor Canada Lee, Ellington’s family and his physician Dr. Arthur Logan—and some white guests including, yes, Earl Wilson, as well as lyricist Oscar Hammerstein. This is from the California Eagle, an historic Black newspaper that also reported Harlem news, on December 25, 1947. Here is the relevant portion of this long article, where some of these attendees are listed:

(Notice that Pee Wee Marquette, later known as the Master of Ceremonies at Birdland, was at this time “formerly of the Zanzibar” and working at Club Ebony.)

If you recall, I asked in my first essay on “Hot House,” why did Wilson "upgrade" Gillespie's award? Now we can say that it was because he was a fan of Gillespie, as well as personally friendly with him. After all, it wouldn't have sounded very impressive to say, "Here's to Charlie for being the best alto of the year, and to Diz for being the third best trumpet of the year." Even though that was what the award said, it would have been kind of insulting! So instead, Wilson ad-libbed that Gillespie was "one of the top trumpet men of all time"—which was certainly true, even if that’s not what the award was for.

How does one explain, however, Parker's expression during the presentation? Frankly, there is no such expression. I cannot find a “look that could kill,” which Chan claimed was there. He is smiling when he receives the plaque, and then his face settles immediately. He shows no change of expression later when Wilson uses the word "boys." If you pause the film in the previous essay, you will see his face before and after. Dizzy also shows no reaction. For your convenience, here are some stills of Parker:

Top Left: Receiving his award. Top Right: After the award. Bottom Left: When Wilson says “you boys.” Bottom Right: Parker after speaking.

It is a well-known phenomenon that if you tell people what they should see in a visual item, many people will “see” what you talk about, even if it isn’t there. In general, words, spoken or printed, have more power and take precedence over the visual image. (And over sound as well. I will give an example in a future post on Mingus.) So, after hearing what Chan said, many people claimed to have seen Bird’s “angry look.” But it’s not there. I have watched the film many, many times, and paused it frame by frame. There is no such look, not from Parker and not from Gillespie.

But why were there no angry looks? That is, why weren’t Bird and Diz upset? To understand this, it is necessary for you to try and put yourself back into that era. Musician and historian Bill Kirchner noted (in an email of May 11, 2004), “It was common practice in those days (and for years afterward) for jazz musicians of all racial and ethnic backgrounds to be referred to as ‘the boys in the band’ and ‘boy singer’ and ‘girl singer.’” Dan Morgenstern agreed (also on May 11, 2004): “Male musicians, regardless of color, were generally addressed as ‘boys’ in those days. I'm pretty sure Diz and Bird let that roll off their backs.”

Remembering that pianist Dick Hyman was the only surviving person from this TV show—he’s 96 years old as I’m writing this—Ira Gitler contacted him. He said that "Dick also confirms [that] if Parker was annoyed it wasn't because of the word 'boys.' The phrase 'boys in the band' was in common use among both black and white musicians in those days." In other words, one must always consider the context. If Wilson had addressed one of the artists as “boy!," that would have been clearly racist and offensive. But to say "you boys" to two musicians was benign. The practice of referring to musicians as “boys and girls” was definitely condescending, because it apparently came from some idea that music is not a serious profession, that it’s for “kids.” But that attitude was applied to white and Black musicians equally, and by Black and white media hosts.

For example, Ernie “Bubbles” Whitman, an accomplished Black actor and comedian, was also the host of several hundred variety shows in the 1940s and early 1950s. These were on radio and film, and featured Black artists performing for Black soldiers and Black audiences. Whitman regularly addressed the male entertainers as “boys,” because that was the fashion of the time. Here are just three out of hundreds of instances. These are from about 1944 to 1946. He refers to Jimmie Lunceford “and the boys,” Benny Carter “and boys,” and “The Amazing Mister C”—Benny Carter again—”and his all boy band”:

For another example, look at this moment from The Benny Goodman Story, a movie filmed in 1955—the same era as the Parker TV appearance—and released in 1956. In this short scene, the white producer of a dance event on a boat addresses the famous Black New Orleans trombonist Kid Ory (playing himself) and his band as “boys,” and also refers to the white band as “boys”:

And, if you go back to the previous post, you will notice that in the very first clip, when Feather first comes out, Wilson calls him “my boy,” which is not exactly the same thing, but something like it. After all, Leonard was 37 at the time, hardly a boy, and Wilson was only 7 years older.

Getting back to Parker on TV, please notice that there has clearly been some rehearsing before going on the air. The cameras know where to go and who will solo in what order. The dialogue is somewhat prepared, and it is already known that Wilson will hand out the awards. When Earl asks if “you boys” have anything to say, Parker knew in advance that he would say that, so his face does not show any surprise. Bird's own response was certainly rehearsed and might even have been written out. Notice that Dizzy makes no attempt to reply, which is not typical of him. He leaves it entirely to Bird, because they had already decided that Bird would reply, and they planned what he would say.

Parker says, "Well, Earl, they say music speaks louder than words, so we'd rather voice our opinion that way, if you don't mind." Wilson says alright, and Parker gives Wilson a look as he says "Good," nods and exits. It's quite possible that Parker was uncomfortable because he had to be in such a scripted situation. That alone could explain his expression on leaving the stage. He doesn’t look angry—if anything he reflects awkwardness. Here are two stills of Bird’s face after he says “Good”:

There have been other claims of racism surrounding this clip. Some say that Dick Hyman's face is not shown, and have suggested that this is reminiscent of Jammin' The Blues, with Lester Young in 1944, when the filmmakers were specifically told not to show the white guitarist Barney Kessel's face in an otherwise all-black band. But it is not true that they avoid showing Hyman's face. Hyman is clearly visible during the last 12 bars of Parker's solo, and again at the very end of the clip, as you can see here:

It’s true that during his piano solo only his hands are shown. But Ira Gitler asked Hyman about that for me, and reported (in an email on May 22, 2004): “Dick says it had nothing to do with the ‘Southern audience,’ just bad (or perhaps ‘inventive’) camera work. After all, as he points out, bassist Block was white, and he is shown clearly throughout.” Larry Appelbaum, former jazz and film specialist of the Library of Congress, agreed, noting (May 23, 2004): “The shot of Hyman's [hands during the] piano solo is a visual cliché of television in those days, much like the close-up of Parker's sax bell  at the beginning that tilts up to the hands on the keys.”

In short, none of the supposed "evidence" that racism was a factor in this show turns out to be valid. In Morgenstern's opinion, what happened here was the opposite of racism. It was actually a statement in favor of equality: “My opinion is that Leonard engineered the whole thing on the basis of both stars of bop being winners, to strike a blow for bebop and get in a few licks for what was then not yet called civil rights.”

One might ask, but wasn't Parker's own widow the source for the idea that racism was involved? Isn't she a reliable authority on Parker, and therefore, shouldn't we believe her above all else? Well, my experience has been that it is essential to talk with family members of musicians about their own experiences, but that they are not necessarily the most reliable sources for events at which they were not present. (And as I will show in a moment, Chan was not at the TV show.) For one thing, family members sometimes feel compelled to demonstrate that they are experts on the deceased, and that they know him or her better than others do. In order to do this they will sometimes exaggerate, or at least make a good story better. I have even known family members to relate stories that they had read in books, as though they knew them from personal experience. (Of course I recognized the stories, but I didn’t say anything to embarrass them.)

Family members will sometimes also make guesses, but present them as though they were facts. Most likely, that is what happened in this case. It was Chan's own idea that Parker was upset by the word "boys," and not something that she knew for a fact. She was not in the TV studio in 1952, so she didn’t experience this in person. In fact, she was at home with the kids, watching the show and recording the audio from the television speaker. And she proved that at the big jazz auction at Guernsey’s in 2005, by bringing out her audiotape. On her tape you can hear her voice and the voices of the two girls while the TV is on. (She was with Kim, her daughter from before she knew Parker, and her daughter with Parker, Pree. She was pregnant with their son, who would be born in August 1952 and was known as Baird.)

(Paying Subscribers, you can hear Chan’s tape in the next post. It includes a more complete version of Wilson’s closing announcement. And there is another bonus as well in Parker film post 10A, which is a supplement to this one.)

Perhaps more important, Chan was only interested in the music, and she turned on her tape recorder when Wilson asked Feather what tune they were about to play. She had no tape of the preceding conversation. And there was no way for her to review the broadcast after it aired, until the film was discovered in 1975. She even refers to watching the "video," which indicates that she had seen it recently on modern technology, presumably because Giddins and his crew showed it to her. She noticed that Wilson said “you boys” in the video, and, interpreting it through the lens of the 1980s, she simply assumed that Bird must have been insulted. But one can only understand the past in its own terms.

So, Earl Wilson was an enthusiastic fan and supporter to whom Dizzy had dedicated a tune. He was not a hostile racist. And there is no reason to think that either Bird or Dizzy was insulted by him.

BUT my goal, as I said, is not to “vindicate” Earl Wilson—he died in 1987, many years ago, and there’s no point in trying to “clear his name.” Instead, I am hoping to make possible a more accurate and nuanced discussion. Even though Wilson was clearly not “anti-Black,” he was part of a racist white society. There is no doubt that both Parker and Gillespie experienced the effects of racism every single day of their lives, in every kind of situation. I have demonstrated that Wilson’s use of the expression “you boys” in 1952 was not intended to be offensive, and was not taken as being offensive. But, without a doubt, Parker and Gillespie were regularly placed in uncomfortable situations, where their genius-level accomplishments were not respected. And even though musicians were usually addressed as “you boys” back then, Parker and Gillespie, with their truly amazing music, deserved better—as did everybody else, of course.

This ends our lengthy investigation of this particularly significant clip of Parker. (I have posted a supplement to this post—I’m calling it 10A—which includes, for those of you who are Paying Subscribers, Chan’s audio and the joined audio of the three parts of the film.) In the course of this series about Bird on film and TV, we have checked out some TV appearances for which only audio survives. The last essay in this series, part 11, will present the remaining audio from TV appearances after “Hot House”—coming soon!

All the best,
Lewis