The story: It is always challenging to write objectively and accurately about Artie Shaw’s music and personality. On the one hand, much of the music Shaw made during the swing era was wonderful, indeed great. On the other, when exploring Shaw’s music, one usually encounters a good many myths and distortions surrounding the man, and sometimes his music. These often have their genesis in pronouncements Shaw himself made as early as the late 1930s (and for decades thereafter), when journalists were insatiably curious about this handsome young (and later not so young) man, who was articulate and intelligent, and could play the clarinet and lead his swing band so brilliantly. They constantly besieged him, seeking quotes, interviews, pictures, feature stories. For awhile, he gave them what they wanted because he understood that in order to have success in the music business on the scale he wanted and eventually had, one must interact productively with the press. The media was awash in Shaw stories, pictures and features. Disentangling fact from fiction in these can be a chore. (At left: Artie Shaw in 1940.)
The year 1939 was the year when Shaw went from being a virtuoso clarinetist who led a very good swing band, to becoming a swing era superstar whose band appeared almost constantly on network radio (sine qua non to great success during the swing era), whose records sold in the millions, whose band appeared everywhere they could across the nation for top money, and who appeared in short musical films, and a feature film made by M-G-M in Hollywood. The upward arc of Shaw’s climb to success was interrupted in April and May of 1939 when he was stricken by a blood disease that almost killed him, and sidelined him for several weeks just as his band arrived in Hollywood to make the film and appear at the Palomar Ballroom for an extended engagement.
During the time all of this was happening, Shaw also had to maintain his clarinet playing at virtuoso levels, which was easy enough when he was working with his band, because he was then playing the instrument six to eight hours every day. In addition, he had to keep his sensibilities as a jazz musician, intact and healthy. This is difficult under “normal” circumstances, when one can think about the music one is playing, can select music that is conducive to jazz, and can experiment to see what works best. As success came to Shaw, all of these musical considerations became more difficult to deal with. Increasingly, his time was also spent in discussions with his personal manager, his booking agency, his band manager, advertising executives, network radio executives, publicists, venue owners, music publishers and, alas, the media. He also had to be the musical director of his band. This involved deciding what music would be played, how it would be arranged, how it would be rehearsed, and how it would be performed. He also had to deal with the musicians in his band, all of whom were talented and some of whom were temperamental. These issues wore on Shaw.
While he and his band were appearing in Boston in August of 1939, Shaw was involved in incidents where his fans, whom he later described as hysterical young people, rushed at him in a street, and began tearing his clothes off and pulling his hair out. They gouged their initials into the paint of his car, and indeed turned a car he was riding in over in a frenzy of “adulation.” Soon thereafter, there was an incident where Shaw’s band appeared an hour late at an engagement just north of the U.S-Canada border near Buffalo, New York, (through no fault of their own – Artie himself was at the venue when the gig was supposed to have started), and the venue manager began harassing Shaw about it, threatening to reduce the agreed amount Artie was to receive for playing the dance. Shaw pulled his band off the bandstand before the scheduled ending time of the gig, and there was a near-riot in the ballroom. Lawsuits flew, and the press had a field day. Shaw’s stress level increased.
The Shaw band toured throughout the Midwest for the first three weeks of September, then returned to Manhattan for a ten-day engagement (September 22-October 2) at the Strand Theater in Times Square, playing five shows a day.
Shaw’s last appearance on the weekly NBC Old Gold Melody and Madness radio show was on October 3. He and the radio show came to a parting of the ways for a complex set of reasons including some bad press, Shaw’s ever-increasing stress, the fact that the concept of the show, Shaw’s music and the offbeat comedy of Robert Benchley, made an incongruous combination, (Shaw wanted his own radio show, not an unreasonable wish given his popularity), and the overriding fact that he was exhausted from four months of non-stop work and travel after he returned to work after he had nearly died. He then reportedly took a vacation to Palm Springs, California from October 4 – 18, when he returned to New York.
For almost all of 1939, Shaw had no personal life away from his band, because he was almost never away from his band. While he was in California he became involved in a relationship with beautiful Hollywood starlet Betty Grable. The media loved it. That relationship soon became fraught with difficulty. (Betty Grable and Shaw are shown at right in the autumn of 1939.)
By the time the Shaw band opened at the Cafe’ Rouge (on October 19), Artie discovered that the hot water he had jumped out of just before he took his vacation had gotten hotter while he was away. A lengthy interview he had given to Michael Mok of the New York Post shortly before it appeared in that newspaper on September 26, proved to be damaging. Among the opinions Shaw had enunciated: “…I don’t like the crowds. I’m not interested in giving people what they want. I’m interested in making music. Autograph hunters? To hell with them!” And: “My friends and advisors tell me that I’m a damned fool. ‘Look here, Artie,’ they say, ‘you can’t do that! Those people MADE you.’ Want to know my answer? I tell them if I was made by a bunch of morons, that’s just too bad. And besides if they made me, what do they want my autograph for? You don’t worship your own creature, do you?” The waves of bad publicity that were caused by that interview continued. Artie was now so stressed that he was having constant headaches. The stresses continued unabated, indeed they increased. The press was more interested than ever in Shaw. In yet another ill-advised interview, this one with Dave Dexter of the music tabloid (later magazine) Down Beat that was published on October 15, he stated that he: “hated the music business,” and was going to leave it “…just as soon as I’m fixed for life financially, and that time isn’t far off.”
Predictably, the end came all too soon. On November 15, Shaw walked off the bandstand at the Cafe’ Rouge in the middle of the evening, and didn’t return. Frantic and exhausting discussions between Shaw’s managers, agents, and other business associates and him for more than two days ultimately came to nothing. Finally, he had a meeting with his band on November 18, when he told them he was leaving, and then got into his car and began driving. Some time later, he reached Acapulco, Mexico, where he sequestered himself. His engagement at the Cafe’ Rouge had some seven weeks to go. His contract with Victor Records had not been even half completed. Engagements booked into early 1940 had to be cancelled. This was a major catastrophe for Shaw’s booking agency, General Amusement Corp.
That, essentially, was the end of Artie Shaw’s first great band. But it wasn’t the end of Shaw’s musical career. He would return to music and then leave again and again over the next fifteen years. Each time he returned, he made fine music. His first return to full-time bandleading happened in the summer of 1940. Although he had been compelled by his contract with Victor Records to enter the recording studios in Hollywood (where he was by then living) on two occasions in the first half of 1940 (a major hit, “Frenesi” was among the recordings he made then), Shaw had no standing band until June of 1940. He had used studio musicians to make those Victor records.
But behind the scenes, Shaw and his managers were actively pursuing opportunities that would feature him and a band on a sponsored network radio show, and in another feature film. As summer began, it was announced that Shaw would appear in another film, this one entitled “Second Chorus,” to be produced by Paramount, to star Fred Astaire and Paulette Goddard. He was also selected to appear on the weekly George Burns and Gracie Allen NBC network radio show. He now had no choice but to form his own standing band, which he did in late June. The first Burns and Allen show aired on July 1.
He was aided greatly in this process by the coincidental disbanding of Benny Goodman’s band, which had been playing in southern California. Goodman’s chronic sciatica had by the summer of 1940 become so painful that he was advised to have surgery to alleviate some of the discomfort. He left his band in early July, and immediately the following Goodman sidemen transferred to Shaw: lead alto saxophonist Les Robinson (Shaw’s lead alto player from 1937 through 1939, who had been Artie’s contact in the Goodman band); tenor saxists Jerry Jerome and Bus Bassey; trombonist Vernon Brown; pianist Johnny Guarnieri; and drummer Nick Fatool. Around this strong nucleus of players, Shaw built his new band. His first trumpeter was Billy Butterfield, who was also a fine jazz soloist. (See below.) His eventual first trombonist, Jack Jenney, was also an excellent jazz soloist (especially on ballads), had very recently decided to give up his own band, which had been commercially unsuccessful.
The instrumentation of this band was that of a standard swing band (three trumpets; two [sometimes three] trombones; four saxophones; and four rhythm) plus six violins, two violas, and one cello.The string section was gathered for Shaw by violinist Alex Beller, who acted as concertmaster for the strings. This band started out very good, and just got better as time passed. Shaw’s own playing at this juncture, despite his relative inactivity for the previous seven-plus months, was superb.(*) (At left: Shaw and Lana Turner in his house on Summit Ridge Drive in Los Angeles – spring 1940.)
Despite the almost immediate cohesiveness of the musicians Shaw had hired, and the continuous demands of ballroom operators and theaters across the nation for personal appearances, Shaw vetoed all proposals to take this group on the road. The band remained in Hollywood. At first, they rehearsed, played the Burns and Allen radio shows weekly, and through late July and early August worked on Second Chorus. Shaw meanwhile continued to reside in his house on Summit Ridge Drive with M-G-M starlet Lana Turner, whom he had met while filming Dancing Co-ed the previous summer. They had married earlier in 1940.
Butterfield sometimes shared the first trumpet book with George “Jumbo” Wendt, a Los Angeles-based musician. Although both were powerful players, it is rather easy to differentiate between their playing: Wendt had a faster vibrato and a more piercing sound. Although Wendt can be heard playing lead parts on “Marinella,” “Danza Lucumi,” and the first part of “Dancing In the Dark” (including the solo), Butterfield’s fat, ringing lead trumpet tone most often defined the sound of Shaw’s 1940-41 brass section, including on the brilliant finale of “Dancing in the Dark.”
[ii] Jack Jenney had to complete commitments with his own band before he could join Shaw. Consequently, he did not appear in the film Second Chorus. He joined the band in time for its first Victor recording session, which was on September 7, 1940.
(*) It was at this time that Shaw began to use plastic reeds on his clarinet instead of the more common cane reeds.
Composed by Hoagy Carmichael; arranged by Artie Shaw and Lennie Hayton.
Recorded by Artie Shaw and His Orchestra for Victor on October 7, 1940 in Hollywood, California.
Artie Shaw, clarinet, directing: Charles William “Billy” Butterfield, George “Jumbo” Wendt, Jimmy (Jack) Cathcart, trumpets; Truman Eliot “Jack” Jenney and Vernon “Red” Brown, trombones; Les Robinson and Neely Plumb, alto saxophones; Clarence “Bus” Bassey and Jerry Jerome, tenor saxophones; John A. “Johnny” Guarnieri, piano; Alton Reynolds “Al” Hendrickson, guitar; Jud De Naut, bass; Nicholas “Nick” Fatool, drums; Truman Boardman, Ted Klages, Bill Brower, Bob Morrow, Alex Beller, Eugene Lamas, violins; Allen Harshman and Keith Collins, violas; Fred Goerner, cello.
The music: In late March of 1940, Artie Shaw and his new bride, Lana Turner, took a honeymoon of sorts. Lana had never seen New York, but Artie was a denizen of Manhattan. So they decided to take a train trip, departing Union Station in Los Angeles, and heading to New York (via Chicago) on the Santa Fe Super Chief. When they arrived in New York, they stayed at a luxurious hotel, and spent the evenings dining in Manhattan’s best restaurants, sometimes taking in a Broadway show, then making the rounds of the dozens of venues in New York that then presented live music.Lana loved swing and jazz, and courtesy of the M-G-M dancing school, she was an excellent dancer.
At one such venue, the Ice Terrace Room of Hotel New Yorker, they danced to the music of Bob Crosby’s band. The de facto leader and music director of the Crosby crew was dance band veteran Gil Rodin. Artie and Gil exchanged pleasantries during the evening, but what struck Shaw most about the Crosby band was the trumpet playing of a 23-year-old from Ohio, Billy Butterfield. Butterfield played some lead and some jazz solos. The sound he got on trumpet was big, yet velvety, and he had a great high register, plenty of power and tons of technique. The next day, Shaw contacted Butterfield, and revealed that he was soon going to be doing some high-profile work in Hollywood, that would involve a movie and a network radio show, and that when he put together a band to do this work, he wanted Billy to be his first and solo trumpet. A tentative agreement was reached, and soon thereafter, Butterfield left the Crosby band, and jobbed around in New York and Chicago, waiting for Shaw’s call. It came in mid-June.
One of the things Shaw resented about the chaotic months of 1939 when he was becoming a swing superstar, was that he had no time then to work on music for his band to play. He certainly remedied that in the first half of 1940. He collaborated extensively on the arrangements that he recorded with studio musicians on two recording dates in the first half of 1940, and he conceived the overall structure of the arrangement we hear of “Star Dust” then also. Shaw had a good arrangement in his 1939 band library on “Star Dust.” Basically, it was a straightforward dance chart that showcased his solo clarinet. But Butterfield’s trumpet playing inspired Shaw to create something new: a dramatic setting for three virtuoso solos. Shaw’s blueprint included a soaring open trumpet solo that he wrote out for Billy Butterfield to start the piece, and then space for him to play a rhapsodic, improvised clarinet solo, and lastly, an eight-bar spot for trombone virtuoso Jack Jenney to improvise. The backgrounds for the soloists were to be subtle and shifting, employing the reeds, strings and brass. He and arranger Lennie Hayton, who had been a successful radio conductor in New York in the mid-1930s (whom Shaw had worked with then), was in 1940 trying to break into film work in Hollywood, collaborated on the rest of the minimalistic chart during the summer of 1940. (Trumpeter Billy Butterfield is shown above left.)
Butterfield’s solo at the beginning of the arrangement starts without the orchestra.They pick him up ever so gently, and he delivers the melodic paraphrase of the melody of “Star Dust,” which was written by Shaw, with exactly the golden trumpet sound and ringing authority Artie had envisioned. The strings spell Butterfield, and play melodically for eight bars, setting up his return for the climax of his solo, a titanic high E-flat, that I have heard more than one trumpeter describe as orgasmic. The orchestra plays an eight bar interlude after Butterfield to set-up Shaw’s entry on clarinet. Artie then plays a brilliantly constructed improvised solo that includes some choice Shavian high-notes, including a singing high A. Many musicians have surmised that Shaw wrote out this solo beforehand because of its perfect structure, but he didn’t. At least one other recording of this band playing “Star Dust” exists, and it has a different clarinet solo.
Trombonist Jack Jenney (1910-1945) was well-known within the music business as a virtuoso performer who had uncommon skill as an improviser on ballads. However, he was little-known to the public in 1940. After his solo on Shaw’s “Star Dust” record became known, first to musicians, then to swing fans, and then to people who knew little or nothing about music, he became a legendary figure.
Music historian Gunther Schuller, in his classic study of the music of the swing era, made these observations about Jenney’s solo: “For me. The most memorable moment of the performance has always been Jack Jenney’s magnificent trombone solo, considered in its day for all its romantic cast, a major breakthrough statement, both in technical and expressive terms. The (for the time) extraordinary octave leap to high F was admired far and wide by musicians and sophisticated audiences, not only for the ease with which Jenney’s managed the deed, but for his elegance and sensitivity of phrasing. It must be remembered that few trombonists had ventured into that uppermost range of the instrument – Tommy Dorsey went above his favorite high note, D-flat, only once in his recording career – and if someone like Bobby Byrne or Trummy Young occasionally tackled a high F, it was almost always by a step-wise approach, never head-on in such a difficult, dare-devil octave leap. Jenney’s rich, full-bodied sound added to the emotional appeal of the passage.”(**)
Jenney’s solo on the broadcast version of “Star Dust” is also a totally different improvisation from the Victor recording.
Jack Jenney’s solo on Artie Shaw’s recording of “Star Dust” was in many ways the beginning of a new school of velvet-toned and elegant but technically demanding trombone performance in jazz and American popular music. Those who followed the trail he blazed included such giants of the instrument as Urbie Green, J.J. Johnson, Milt Bernhart, Dick Nash and Bill Watrous.
(**) The Swing Era…The Development of Jazz – 1930-1945 by Gunther Schuller, Oxford University Press (1989), page 704.
This recording was digitally remastered by Mike Zirpolo.
Mike another fabulous article. As both a former personal manager, record company scout and tour manager for rock and pop bands it is amazing how many of the intrigues, personal problems etc. were similar to my own experiences. Your insights into the musical proficiency or lack there of, were especially interesting to me as I was called upon often to help in the studio and select replacements for the inevitable changes that go on with band members.
Beautifully written, thoughtful piece! One addition – Jenny had recorded STAR DUST with his own band in late 1939 for Okeh. His expansive solo (in two takes) is similar in mood and construction to his brief solo on the Shaw record.
Although Artie played somewhat different Star Dust solos during live performances, I have read that the Curator of the Artie Shaw Collection at the University of Arizona has stated that Shaw’s solo on the issued RCA record is written out note for note in Lennie Hayton’s hand on the original score. I don’t know whether this true, but I thought I would pass it on for discussion purposes. Also, the high (concert) A in Artie’s solo is a B on the clarinet, which even more difficult to play, particularly in tune – as I well know since I (try to) play the transcribed solo almost every day!
Michael, I haven’t seen the original Hayton score to Stardust, but I *seriously* doubt Artie’s solo was written out by Lenny. Some of the charts in the UofAZ Shaw collection are later versions/revisions/adaptations (re-arranging or simply adding 4th bone and 4th tpt parts) of the originals and it wouldn’t surprise me if one of the later adaptations had Artie’s original studio solo written out. Just my opinion, but I’d bet money on it. I just can NOT fathom Artie playing a written solo like that.
John, here are the comments from the Clarinet Bulletin Board on this subject:
“Well I emailed a professor at the University where the Artie Shaw library is housed. He said the “Stardust” solo was one of the very few written out solos by Artie Shaw. He changed things very slightly during the performance.
I too contacted the prof in charge of the Artie Shaw collection, and he was kind enough deal with my persistent questions and look into the original chart written by Lennie Hayton.
According to the prof, the famous solo from Star Dust, recorded in 1940, is in the chart in Lennie’s hand.”
Again John, I’m not in a position to know whether these comments are true, but I don’t believe it would be accurate to say that no Shaw solos were written out. I believe that at least some of the solo part on “Concerto for Clarinet” were written out. Parts of the solo were lifted from Shaw’s improvised “Blues” performance with Paul Whiteman at Carnegie Hall on December 25, 1938, and a cadenza in the Concerto was copied from the “Light Cavalry Overture.”
I have contacted Keith Pawlak at the Univeristy of Arizona Artie Shaw archive and asked him to explain what is on the “Star Dust” arrangement we have been discussing. Here is the explanation he sent to me. I am printing it verbatim: “Hayton wrote out a foundation for the solo, which is of course based on the melody. Shaw then embellished what Hayton wrote and made it his own. So, sort of.
Incidentally, it was typical during the 1930s for Shaw’s parts to have stacked chords spelled out on the staff where a solo was indicated (chord symbols weren’t indicated). So it was rather unusual for Hayton to give some “guidance” to Shaw on his part – even if Shaw only loosely followed what was written. I wouldn’t be surprised though if Shaw worked with Hayton to write the arrangement of “Stardust.” As it was customary for Shaw to do that sort of thing with Jerry Gray.”
Assistant Professor of Music
University of Arizona
Fred Fox School of Music
P.O. Box 210004
Tucson, AZ 85721
Regardless of whether Artie’s solo was fully improvised, IMHO his 1940 “Star Dust” is still the greatest “pop” record ever made!
Hi Michael (x2!)
I agree it’s possible that Lenny wrote out a “sketch” for Artie to play during the solo section, but for it to be written out verbatim, well…..until I’d see it with my own eyes…..
If we listen to the 1949 recording of Stardust (on the Thesaurus Transcriptions 2 disc set), Artie plays some similar ideas (and again, goes up to the high B), but I think that’s more due to how incredibly popular the original recording was and what a “staple” his solo became in the 9 yrs. since the original studio recording with strings. Lastly, as we’re all very aware of here, Artie was an INCREDIBLY prolific improvisor. I just *highly* doubt he’d play a written out/pre-conceived solo. Can we think of any other tune (or different take) in Artie’s vast recording output where he played the same solo twice? I can’t.
Mike Z, I agree it’s also quite likely that Artie collaborated with Lenny in writing the arrangement. I think I read in Simosko’s book that Artie often wrote out sax soli’s and whoever the arranger of the tune was, he then incorporated them into the arrangement.
In the end, who really knows? It’s just my “Shaw fanatic” opinion(s).
Thanks for the great (as usual) article, Mike! I LOVE having discussions like this with fellow Shaw enthusiasts (and players!).
Best to both of you!
I want to add my thoughts to this wonderful discussion.
First, I appreciate that all who have commented have done so. Well-considered comments like the ones that have been made in this discussion help all of us to get closer to the truth about matters that are important to those of us who enjoy great music from the swing era. But history is not an exact science. So all thoughtful opinions have value, and help us to get closer to the truth.
My opinion is that Artie Shaw improvised the solo we hear on his Victor recording of “Star Dust.” I say that for many reasons. I mentioned in the post that Shaw had a different arrangement of “Star Dust” that he played in 1938-1939. That arrangement allowed him to play an entire chorus solo. I have gone back to the Shaw aircheck recordings of “Star Dust” from December 6 and 23 of 1938. The solos Shaw played on those performances are different from one another, indicating to me that he improvised them. More telling, perhaps, is that one week after he recorded the 1940 arrangement for Victor, he performed the same arrangement on the NBC Burns and Allen radio show. The solo he played on that broadcast is significantly different from the one on the Victor recording. This suggests that he improvised it. Also, on all other recordings Shaw made of “Star Dust,” he played different solos. I think it would have been anathema for Shaw, who was a great improviser, to have played a written-out solo on any tune in any performance. That was not the way he worked. (This does not of course apply to his playing of “classical” music.)
Why then would Lennie Hayton have written whatever he wrote on the 1940 Shaw arrangement of “Star Dust”? My informed speculation is that he and Shaw most probably collaborated on the arrangement. Shaw knew exactly what he wanted to do with this entire arrangement. Hayton facilitated that by writing to Shaw’s specifications. Shaw did not need Hayton’s guidance with the harmonic structure of “Star Dust.” He undoubtedly was quite familiar with that by 1940. But perhaps they discussed the general outline of what Shaw wanted to do in his solo, and Hayton notated that in some fashion so that Artie would have a roadmap of sorts of where to go with his improvisation. But this should not be confused with the notion that Hayton wrote out the solo, and Shaw read it while he played it. That, I think, did not happen.
Raving about “Star Dust” in all regards is absolutely deserved, as are the performances of Billy Butterfield, Artie and Jack Jenney, plus of course Lennie Hayton’s arrangement. This must be one of the very best in all of light music. Period.
Wish that I knew more about music composition. All I can say is GREAT.
I would like to include the comments of clarinetist Kevin Ritter here for the benefit of Shaw fans who want to know as many facts as possible about Shaw’s iconic solo on his Victor recording of “Star Dust.” Here they are:
“Just to add finality to a point raised in the comments section of the attached article, I have copies of the score and all the parts to “Star Dust” and Artie’s solo from the 1940 record is not written out at all, in the Full Score of the 1940 arrangement, or on either of the two sets of Parts from 1940 and 1944/45 respectively.
In 1944 when AS resumed activity as a civilian bandleader, approx. 25 arrangements from the period of 1940-42, all of which were written for the three big bands based in Hollywood (Jul 1940-Dec 1940) and New York (Jan-Mar 1941 and Sep 1941 – Jan 1942) and included strings, were completely re-orchestrated for the postwar band without strings. In the 1944 revised version of “Star Dust” in which the strings were done away with, at some unknown point AS transcribed his clarinet solo from the 1940 record in pencil and he wrote it on the back side of his own clarinet part. The written clarinet part (on the front and in ink) was like every other “Artie” part in his book – as just a conductor’s lead sheet of the whole arrangement transposed for Bb clarinet with indications of where his solo sections were for him to play, and includes other sections where he plays arranged sections of the arrangement with the rest of the band. But as I said, it is on the back side of the ink part that AS scribbled down his clarinet solo from the record (that he made four years earlier) in pencil.
I should also point out there is no indication of when Artie might have even pulled that particular Lead / Solo Clarinet part out of a file cabinet and actually turned it over and scribbled out his famous solo on a few blank staves on the back of the sheet in pencil, whether it might have been in 1944/45 when the ink part on the front was copied, or at any later date in the 40s, 50s, or even 60s, 70s, 80s, 90s, or even 2000’s long after he quit performing in public.”
Thanks Kevin for your impressions from both the musical and historical perspectives.