'You ain't never did nothing but play great'


 

Teddy Edwards remembers stuff in his little crib near LaBrea.

 

Victor, this guy that used to be the maitre d' of the Polo Lounge, was holding something for Teddy Edwards.

Victor is a New York kind of a guy, always wears a tie, knows how to palm a $50 tip. So when he saw Edwards, who is also a New York kind of a guy although he can't seem to get out of L.A., he palmed the card and slipped it to him with a few words under his breath.

This happened on one of  those nights on Melrose. Edwards slid the card in his wallet and one day when he had a moment he looked at it.

And that is how, after all the other things he had become since he left Jackson, Miss., like the first resident be-bopper on the West Coast, the author of an unproduced musical for Frank Loesser and Benny Goodman, a man whose portrait hangs on a wall with a Rembrandt in Antwerp, and the toast of Proust's old neighborhood in Paris, Teddy Edwards became a movie star.

''I call these guys up. They were looking for a saxophone player to play a part in a low budget film. They were really happy and they said man, we were waiting to hear from you.

'We set up a meeting, and Al Gomez, who was the producer and the writer, who was Robert Diaz Leroy, they came by to see me.''

Soon Edwards was shooting the movie, ''River Bottom,'' about the homeless in Los Angeles, but before that he made a few changes in the script, not quite enough for a co-screenwriting credit, but then it was his maiden voyage in the medium. ''I went through it and I marked certain things and added this and that and the other, from my experience.

After it was all over, they gave Edwards, who has a heartbreaking death scene with a child actor, top billing, over the title.

The show, wrapped last year, is still previewing and awaiting distribution, but that doesn't bother Teddy Edwards. At the time, he was recording material from the musical he started for Goodman and Loesser. It was going to be Goodman's swan song. Originally titled ''Blue Clarinet,''it was  much developed and retitled for the record ''Blue Saxophone.''

Now that record, a complex and soulful entity with a killer string section, brasses, and a five voice chorus, is out on PolyGram.

And this fall he's got a new one, recorded at the La Villa club amid Proust's old stomping grounds in the St. Germaine neighborhood of Paris, and due out any minute. Produced by PolyGram Jazz France CEO Jean-Phillipe Allard, it's got a top flight Parisian rhythm section (Christian Escoude, guitar; Thomas Bramarie, bass; and  Alain Jeanmarie, piano) plus Betty Carter's drummer, Al Vester Garnett, on it, and some ballad vocal tracks by Edwards' old friend Spanky Wilson. Strings were added in the studio, an unusual procedure for a jazz record.

''Tom Waits is the one who got me my conract with PolyGram. He's wonderful, he's America's best lyricist since Johnny Mercer. He came down to the studio on the ''Missisppii Lad''  album, that's the first one i did for PolyGram, and he sang two of my songs, wouldn't accept any money, just trying to give me the best boost that he could.''

The two met when Edwards backed Waits on a gig at the Troubadour  Edwards played on the soundtrack of the 1982 film ''One From the Heart,'' in which Waits appeared. They toured Europe, Australia and New Zealand together the year the film was released.

It was quite a trip, and it began when Edwards, the boy, got interested in jazz from listening to the radio down in Jackson, Miss. ''We had  national hookups at different clubs like the Grand Terrace in Chicago you could hear Earl Father Hines band at 11 o'clock at night. Or you could hear Fletcher Henderson's band and listen to Chu Berry and all these great guys. Then there was Cab Calloway and Duke Ellington who used to come from the Cotton Club.

''We didn't even have a radio at that particular time. I used to go over to this ice cream parlor, and they had a little crystal set in the window. and I'd go over there at seven o'clock every Wednesday and listen to Benny Goodman.'' (He wound up playing with Goodman in New York and California in the 1960s.)

He started playing with big bands in 1938, when he was 14, came to Los Angeles with the Ernie Fields band in 1945, when Central Avenue was roaring, with Lionel Hampton, Duke Ellington, Art Tatum and the like.

''Me and (pioneer trumpeter) Howard McGhee, we had the first bebop band in the West.  We had this band together before Dizzy and Charlie Parker came to Billy Berg's, because Howard had been to New York and knew what was going on at Minton's.

''McGhee talked me into playing the tenor, instead of alto that I'd been playing with Roy Milton and his Solid Senders, a rhythm and blues band. That was because he preferred the tenor and trumpet sound rather than the alto and trumpet sound.  Our first job was at the Alabam Club on Central. I hit it right at the peak of everything. It was heaven.''

Soon he began recording and writing, such records as the immortal ''Up in Dodo's Room,'' with Dodo Marmarosa; ''The Duel,'' with Dexter Gordon, and his own ''Blues in Teddy's Flat,'' which sold a million copies.

He backed Billie Holiday in the Bay Area in the 1950s and joined Benny Goodman in the 1960s; he toured Japan with Milt Jackson in the 1970s and went to Europe with Tom Waits in the 1980s. Now it's the 1990s and he's a movie star or starlet.

But somehow, he never made it big.

Here's his take on that: ''A guy in San Francisco told me one time, he says 'Teddy, you know why you never made it big?'  I said no. He said, 'Well, you ain't never did nothing but play great. You haven't been busted for drugs. You haven't whupped some woman's ass up and down the street. You ain't done nothin'. You gotta do something.

But Teddy Edwards has done a few things they'll remember him for. He gave a 7 1/2 hour interview to Rutgers University that's going on file at the Library of Congress, and another one to the Smithsonian Institution.

''In Belgium, outside of Antwerp, they have Billie Higgins and my picture in the museum where Rembrandt's most famous painting is, The Night Watch. They have our picture up on the wall with Rembrandt and Van Gogh and all those guys.

 ''So I've had a lot of wonderful things that happened in my life and I've made a lot of people happy around this world.''

 

 

Teddy tries out a few on his tenor.

 

 

 

Text and photographs by Tony Gieske

Tony Gieske has been reviewing jazz and occasionally playing it on his cornet since the 1950s, when he wrote the jazz column for the Washington Post. Now he works for the Hollywood Reporter, where his reviews and photographs, such as these, appear regularly.The photographs are available as prints or as scans by sending an e-mail to grnskl@earthlink.net. More jazz stuff can be seen by clicking on the links beneath.

 

 

Jumpin' in the Boneyard: The prelude

The night they remembered Woody

Woody remembers Woody

Woodchoppin' for the old Woodchopper

The blue flame goes out

Riding with the boys on the Count Basie bus

A mockingbird sang on Citrus Place: Annie Ross

Melissa Manchester's voice does everything she asks

Earthy delights with the Bricktop of the blues

Uan Rasey: Play it reverently

Young Jazz Giants: Newsy and juicy

A taste of the new Brownie, Maurice Brown

Hank Jones: Not a minute to waste

Horace Silver becomes more spiritual

Take your time, Sister D

Gerald Wilson reveals the secret of bebop

Teddy Edwards: 'You ain't done nothing but play great.'

No sun, no day: Sun Ra

Tiny Grimes: 'I never could afford the other two strings'

'Ain't that a bitch!' said Jay McShann

Woof of melancholy, warp of jazz

'Pop, can you play this thing?' Stacy asks Jimmy Rowles

Hamp's last stand

Hamp's last stand: The outtakes

Final flight

'I never wanted a band,' said Marshal Royal

Twinkly but unblinking: Lorraine Feather

Pronounced john-gear-off

Miss Peggy Lee, 1920-2002

The real Count

'A little trumpet player from down in Dayton named Snooky'

Sweets Edison: Death of a Mainstay

Hubbard in the hood

With abandon but chops: DDB

Dwight Trible, kick-ass holy man 

'I'm Roy Haynes, Dammit!'

High kicks and belly blows: James Carter

The accursed Coltrane

Jazz Fusion Is Not Dead: Billy Cobham

Brookmeyer: Soft spoken but hard core.

Snakes in the Clover: Steve Lacy

Sam Rivers: Like Bartok rocking out

Les Paul, Solid Body

Billy Higgins: We're really blessed

A night full of deep things: Charles Lloyd

Death of the horse whisperer

Talking about Chet Baker

A visit from the Poinciana Kid

 Adieu to Art, a Euro-gentleman of jazz

Blues for Bags, 1923-99

A night with the Florence nightingales 

 An ancient afternoon with Dizzy

Bill Berry's Own Private Ellington

A Bowl full of bebop

A blessing blows into town

Blowing with Buckaroo Banzai

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