“Mysterioso” (1945) Artie Shaw and His Gramercy Five (two versions) – with Roy Eldridge and Barney Kessel

“Mysterioso”

Composed and arranged by Artie Shaw.(*)

Recorded by Artie Shaw and His Gramercy Five for Victor in Hollywood on August 2, 1945.

Artie Shaw, clarinet, directing: Roy Eldridge, trumpet; Michael “Dodo” Marmarosa, piano; Barney Kessel, electric guitar; Morris Rayman, bass; Lou Fromm, drums.

The story:

Hollywood, mid-1944. Then as always, it was a place of suspended reality. If one asked Artie Shaw when he returned to the United States after his military service why he landed in Hollywood, he likely would have said to be near his then-wife, Betty Kern, and their infant son, Steven. But it was far more complicated than that.

When Artie Shaw returned to the U.S. (San Francisco) from service in the U.S. Navy in the Pacific Theater of war in mid-November 1943, he was hospitalized at the Oak Knoll Naval medical facility just outside of Oakland, California. He was in a “…malaise that had stricken him somewhere in the Pacific. His migraine headaches recurred, he felt deeply depressed, and he drifted into a near psychotic stupor.”(1)  Although he was allowed to leave the hospital around Christmas 1943 to visit his wife Betty Kern (daughter of composer Jerome Kern) and their tiny son in Beverly Hills, he returned to Oak Knoll shortly thereafter, where he remained until he was given a medical discharge from the U.S. Navy in March of 1944.

 Artie Shaw and his Navy band – somewhere in the Pacific, 1943.

He then commenced psychotherapy with Dr. May E. Ginsberg Romm in Beverly Hills (five days a week, one hour per session) in an effort to recover from the various traumas he suffered while in the Navy.(2) Shortly thereafter, he and Betty Kern were divorced. He later described himself when he reentered civilian life as being in “a state of dysfunction.” If he played the clarinet at all, I suspect that he simply practiced enough to keep his performance chops in shape. He did not actively seek work.

Slowly, through early 1944, he regained his health. He lived alone in his house in Beverly Hills located at 906 North Bedford Drive during this time, but was a sought-after guest at the almost constant cycle of parties held at the homes of people involved in the movie-making business. He was, after all, a celebrity, and someone whose recent military service in and near various active battle zones made him something of a heroic figure, though Shaw himself eschewed playing the role of war hero. At these parties were many beautiful, young women. It was not long before he was drawn to a particularly beautiful woman whom he met at one such party in 1944, twenty-one year-old Ava Gardner.

I am hardly an expert when it comes to beautiful women, however I do appreciate feminine beauty. There are many beautiful women in this world, but very few are so stunningly, incredibly beautiful that when one sees them, one becomes breathless, light-headed. Ava Gardner was such a woman. Her initial impact on Artie Shaw was unquestionably powerful. I have a copy of a recorded interview of Shaw that took place in the 1990s, fifty years after his liaison with Ava Gardner was over, when Shaw was in his eighties. The somewhat obtuse interviewer was questioning Shaw about what made Ava so very attractive. Artie excitedly attempted to explain this, but finally gave up and said simply: “Have you ever seen Ava Gardner?”(3)

Among many of Ava’s bewitching personality traits when she and Artie Shaw were together, perhaps the most attractive was that she didn’t put on airs. Although she was certainly aware of her powerful effect on men, she was nevertheless just herself, and at that time, that meant that she was a girl who had been born in rural Grabtown, North Carolina, and was something of a tomboy. She loved swing music, loved being around Artie’s band members, and generally loved to have a good time. Trumpeter Roy Eldridge, who was very much on the Shaw scene then, once told me (4) without a trace of irony in his voice, that Ava was a lot of fun to be around. She had a great sense of humor, and was quite comfortable participating with Shaw’s band members in their jokes and story-telling, including the off-color ones, which she particularly relished.(5)

In 1944, Ava Gardner was still being groomed by Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer for stardom. Her career in movies (she had been contracted to M-G-M since 1941), which to that time had consisted of basically unbilled walk-ons with little or no dialog, was at a standstill. Nevertheless, she very much wanted to be a movie star. She was a denizen of Hollywood. In addition to her actual work at M-G-M over the previous few years, she had been married to one of the biggest stars in Hollywood then, M-G-M’s Mickey Rooney. If he was not the king of the M-G-M lot then (Clark Gable was), he certainly was a prince. The movies he appeared in had for many years been among the most successful in terms of ticket sales. Her association with Rooney allowed her access to the very pinnacle of Hollywood social life. But Ava Gardner wanted to be invited to the best parties because of who and what she was, not because she was Mickey Rooney’s wife. Nevertheless, in 1944, Artie Shaw was a big star in the pop music world, and she was still relatively unknown. Although her public profile rose significantly during her time with Shaw, roughly mid-1944 to early 1946, in many ways she put her ambitions on hold then.

Artie Shaw himself was always ambivalent about Hollywood. On the one hand, he loved the glitz and glamor of Hollywood, including the beautiful women who sought his company, and of course the money that could be made working there. He also liked associating with various Hollywood writers, many of whom were intellectuals. On the other hand, he regarded the moguls who ran the film studios as cretinous buffoons, who had more money and power than brains. Throughout his life, Shaw had a pronounced anti-authority attitude. This aspect of his personality was quite active during his post-military service years in Hollywood, from 1944 through 1946.

To say that some of Shaw’s attitudes about Hollywood rubbed-off on Ava Gardner while they were together would not be inaccurate. Before her relationship with Artie Shaw, she basically accepted without question the rather weird ways of Hollywood as things the way they were. If one wanted to play the Hollywood game, one had to follow the Hollywood rules. And Ava very much wanted to play the Hollywood game. Shaw’s rather constant criticism of Hollywood made her adjust her attitudes somewhat. She gradually became rebellious about many things that, according to Artie Shaw, were stupid – but never within earshot of her bosses at M-G-M. So she gradually was pulled into a relationship with Shaw by the gravitational force of his personality, and his charm, which was considerable. Ava Gardner began living with Shaw at his house on Bedford Drive in the summer of 1944. She dedicated herself to being Artie Shaw’s woman. She was in love, or what passed for love in Hollywood.

But was Artie Shaw in love with Ava? Based on the available evidence, that remains an open question.

The music – the issued take:

We will analyze the issued (second) take of “Mysterioso” first. It is a blues, and it bears a resemblance in places to the successful 1941 Artie Shaw orchestra recording of “St. James Infirmary.” The introduction establishes the rolling ostinato created by bassist Morrie Rayman and pianist Dodo Marmarosa’s left hand, which continues throughout the performance. The quivering sounds that are heard in this first chorus were created by Shaw’s clarinet and Roy Eldridge’s cup-muted trumpet. The atmospheric chords come from Barney Kessel’s electric guitar.

Artie Shaw and four-fifths of his Gramercy Five on the stage of the Strand Theater in Manhattan in January of 1945. Drummer Lou Fromm was to bassist Morrie Rayman’s left.

The second chorus establishes the melody, such as it is. The blend of instruments heard in this sequence is Shaw’s clarinet, Eldridge’s muted trumpet and Kessel’s guitar. They are supported by drummer Lou Fromm’s softly brushed snare drum in 4/4 time.

Maestro Shaw steps out with the first solo. It is soulful. Listen to the tasty right-handed accompaniment he gets from Dodo Marmarosa, whose left hand continues to play the ostinato with bassist Rayman. Barney Kessel follows with a series of chords before adding some melodic notes in his last four bars. Roy Eldridge in the last soloist, and his sound and ideas evoke a caravan of Bedouins moving slowly over the hot sands of the Sahara Desert in the crepuscular hour. Once again, pianist Marmarosa’s right-hand comping is notable, and rhythmically more intense in this tract. (Above left: Artie Shaw and Roy Eldridge in early 1945.)

The next chorus is a reprise of the second ensemble chorus. The coda consists of a couple of choice floating chords from Mr. Marmarosa.

The alternate take:

The first take on “Mysterioso” was doomed early-on by a stumble by bassist Rayman, whose fingers didn’t quite get completely in-charge of the first chorus ostinato. Also, the ensembles in this take are a bit stiff, something that was remedied in the second take.

In the second chorus, we hear that the three instruments that play the melody phrase it slightly differently than they would do on the second take. Once again, Shaw, a most sensitive leader, recognized this and made the small but telling change that we hear in the issued recording.

Shaw’s solo here reveals that he knew how he wanted to begin and end, but in between, he plays quite differently than he would a few minutes later on take two. Barney Kessel’s solo here is very different as he quotes verbatim form the melody of “St. James Infirmary,” then creates a fine improvisation to complete his chorus. Roy Eldridge, like Shaw, knew how he wanted to begin his solo, and does so here in similar fashion to what he played on take two. But after that, he creates a different and effective improvisation to complete his chorus. (At right: Barney Kessel and Morrie Rayman.)

The recordings presented with this post were digitally remastered by Mike Zirpolo.

Notes and links:

(*) The name “John Carleton” appears with Shaw’s as a co-composer of this tune. “John Carleton” was a pseudonym that Shaw used on occasion when making composer attributions. “John Carleton” and Artie Shaw were the same person. Why Shaw did this remains unexplained.

(1) See: Middle-Aged Man Without a Horn, by Robert Palmer, in The New Yorker, May 19, 1962, pages 47 et seq. Although in this article it is asserted that Shaw had suffered a breakdown on Guadalcanal, another source has that happening on Espiritu Santo. See Harold S. Kaye Dave Tough and the Artie Shaw Navy Band in World War II, in Storyville 2000-2001. This lengthy article can be accessed here: https://nationaljazzarchive.org.uk/explore/journals/storyville/storyville-2000-2001/1265124-storyville-2000-2001-0016?q=Dave%20Tough%20with%20the%20Artie%20Shaw%20navy%20band

Bottom line, there does not appear to be any direct evidence as to where or when this happened. My informed speculation is that it happened near the end of Shaw’s service in the Pacific, specifically somewhere in Australia in October of 1943. At that time, Shaw was examined thoroughly by Lieutenant Commander Mark Gerstle, M.D. who concluded that his condition required that he be “returned to the United States.” See: Nightmare in the Pacific …The World War II Saga of Artie Shaw and His Navy Band, by Michael Doyle (2025), 168.

(2) May E. (Ginsberg) Romm (October 14, 1892 – October 15, 1977) was an American psychiatrist, Freudian psychoanalyst, educator, and author. After graduating and establishing a practice in New York, Romm moved to Hollywood in 1938 and influenced psychoanalytic infusion into American cinema. Many people in the Hollywood film community, including producer David O. Selznick, were her patients. She was an expert on fetishism and exhibitionism and considered the most influential Hollywood Freudian of the mid-twentieth century. (Wikipedia)

(3) This information comes from a 13-part radio series called The Mystery of Artie Shaw, produced in 1998 by Ted Hallock.

(4) I was fortunate to speak on a number of occasions with Roy Eldridge in the late 1970s when he was leading a small band that was playing at a club on West 54th Street in Manhattan called Jimmy Ryan’s. Hereafter: Conversation with Roy Eldridge.

(5) Conversation with Roy Eldridge.

Here are links to other great performances by Artie Shaw and His 1945 Gramercy Five:

https://swingandbeyond.com/2019/08/28/the-grabtown-grapple-1945-artie-shaw-and-his-gramercy-five/

https://swingandbeyond.com/2025/03/14/i-was-doing-allright-1945-artie-shaws-gramercy-five-featuring-dodo-marmarosa-and-barney-kessel/

https://swingandbeyond.com/2018/01/06/little-jazz-trumpet-titan-roy-eldridge-rockin-chair-1941-with-gene-krupa-scuttlebutt-1945-with-artie-shaw/

And here are some links to wonderful recordings by a later Gramercy Five:

https://swingandbeyond.com/2022/02/05/sposin-1954-artie-shaw-and-his-gramercy-five/

https://swingandbeyond.com/2019/02/09/my-funny-valentine-1954-artie-shaw/

https://swingandbeyond.com/2017/03/24/bewitched-bothered-and-bewildered-1956-ella-fitzgerald-and-1954-artie-shaw/

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2 Comments

  1. Mike, Thank you for another insightful study! It brings to mind the 1972 LP “Artie Shaw Featuring Roy Eldridge” (RCA Vintage LPV-582), which contained both takes of “Mysterioso” and 14 other selections, each in outstanding sound. Hard to believe it’s been more than 50 years ago that my Brother Jay got it while we were both just teenagers! And one of the things that stuck with me about that album were the liner notes by the esteemed Dan Morgenstern, who, referring to the two takes of “Mysterioso,” wrote, ” . . . Shaw’s two solos prove conclusively that he was a real improviser, not a set solo player.”

  2. You are welcome Christopher. My copy of that LP, which I also acquired when it was first issued, still resides in my archive. Little did I know then that I would one day meet and communicate often with Dan Morgenstern, and benefit from his vast knowledge of jazz, and his personal relationships with hundreds of musicians whose music I appreciate. Dan was also instrumental in getting my biography of Bunny Berigan published. He was always very generous with his time and knowledge, and a great guy.

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