The blue flame goes out


Mourners gather in the Hollywood Forever Cemetery at the burial on Nov. 2, 1987.

 

oody Herman's death at 74 ended seven months of physical struggle during which he stirred even the blase Los Angeles show business world with his stamina and determination, refusing to succumb to pulmonary and cardiac problems that left him a near skeleton, unable to speak and fed through tubes in his nose.

"He's tough!" marveled Polly Podewell, the young Herman vocalist who helped bring him home from Detroit, where he collapsed in March after medication he had been taking for altitude sickness affected his heart.

In the midst of his last illness, the 50-year band business veteran was threatened with eviction from the house in the Hollywood Hills hat he bought from Humphrey Bogart and Lauren Bacall when the Thundering Herd was first storming the heights after World War II.

"I've had this place. for 40 years," the Old Woodchopper said last year, "and I've probably lived here 40 months." No sooner were the words out of his mouth than the Internal Revenue Service, seeking to collect $1.6 million in taxes and penalties dating to the Kennedy administration, seized the house and auctioned it off.

Herman and his daughter, Ingrid Herman Reese, who survives (his wife, Charlotte, died in 1982) were permitted to rent it for a month, but when the illness struck and Woody could no longer work, they fell behind in the rent and the new landlord filed for eviction. . The IRS seized all of Woody's royalties, so he had virtually no income.

ublicity on his plight touched off a shower of show business beneficence. As Woody fought for life at Cedars-Sinai Medical Center, Frank Sinatra, Peggy Lee, Tony Bennett, Dudley Moore, James Coburn and Robert Wagner were among the world-famous figures who stepped forward, and all-jazz radio station KLON quickly gathered $4,600 to pay Woody's. back rent.

Another all-jazz station, KLON, coIlected money at a benefit concert in Long Beach early this month that featured the Young Thundering Herd, as his current band is known, under the direction Frank Tiberi, a 17-year veteran. It was no trick at all to find a number of stars among the thousands of band alumni to re-create the old days. From the San Fernando Valley drove Shorty Rogers, a trumpeter in the 1945 band; Terry Gibbs, who played vibraharp with the 1948 Herd; Bill Perkins, who joined the saxophone section on tenor in 1951; and Med Flory, class of 1953.

From the East Coast flew Jimmy Giuffre, who wrote the legendary "Four Brothers" chart that set a new sound for the 1949 group; and Al Cohn, who was one of the Four Brothers tenor saxophonists along with Giuffre, Stan Getz, Zoot Sims and Serge Chaloff.

Joining the current band as though they never left it, the silver-haired reedmen ran through "Four Brothers" and some of the other great numbers from the bebop days == Cohn's "The Goof and I," Tiny Kahn's "TNT" and "Not Really the Blues," plus a liberal helping of other hits from "Apple Honey" to "Early Autumn."

Last week, another tribute sponsored by KKGO brought out more immortal alumni, among them bassist Chubby Jackson, vocalist Mary Ann McCall, pianist Nat Pierce and trumpeters Pete and Conte Candoli.

"I understand Woody would like this band to continue .playing and carry on," said Perkins, "and I gotta say I don't normally like bands that carry on - like the Glenn Miller band. But I think Woody's an exception, because his music is jazz, and it's a cut above all that other music. There is no finer band around today."

Polly Podewell, Stacy Rowles, Nat Pierce and Jimmy Rowles at the cemetery.

his was the reputation of Herman's band almost from the time it came out as "The Band that Plays the Blues" in 1936. The Milwaukee-born Herman, who toured vaudeville with his parents at age 9 as "The Boy Wonder of the Clarinet," took over the Isham Jones group when the leader retired. The first Herman Herd was already playing the Roseland dance hall in New York City when Count Basie arrived with his first ensemble out of Kansas City.

"They knew exactly what they were doing," Basie remembered in his autobiography, "Good Morning;, Blues," "and Woody was very helpful, very generous. He gave me my first waltz arrangement. ‘Just take it easy,' he said, `and everything is going to be all right.'"

Like Basie, Herman always had a soft spot for the blues, and thus his music was readily understandable no matter how sophisticated it got - and he employed some very intelligent arrangers including Ralph Burns, Bill Holman, Johnny Mandel, Nat Pierce, Gordon Brisker, Neil Hefti, Giuffre. Cohn and even Igor Stravinsky, who wrote piece for the First Herd called "Ebony Concerto."

But the Boy Wonder of th Clarinet never fell into the "symphonic jazz" trap that swallowed Swing Era bands like Paul Whiteman's and Stan Kenton's, and sometimes even Duke Ellington's.

"I would never play down to an audience. Let them come and find us," said Herman. "People would like jazz to reach a lot bigger audience, but really I think it might lose something if everybody embraced it."

 

oody don't want to go, said Ed Dye, shaking his head.

Woody Herman's personal assistant and a couple of dozen graveside mourners were watching cemetery workers lower his casket with a hydraulic device after an unsuccessful attempt to slide the bandleader's remains into a crypt high above the ground at Hollywood Memorial Park on a November day in 1987..

A curtain flapped over the narrow house where the Old Woodchopper's body would rest.

For seven months, the 74-year-old musician had hung on after a stroke, battling emphysema and cardiac disease before both lungs and heart failed him and he died last Thursday in Cedars-Sinai Medical Center.

A Give him communion with the saints forever,@ Monsignor George Parnassus had prayed earlier during the funeral service at St. Victor's Roman Catholic Church in West Hollywood. During the final struggle, Parnassus said, Herman A suffered enormously,@ and felt A privation.@ He referred to the loss of the home in the Hollywood Hills that Herman bought in the 1940s from Humphrey Bogart, and which the IRS had auctioned off for payment of Woody's $1.6 million tax debt.

Cleve Herman, the KFWB radio reporter who broke that story, listened in a pew, his tape recorder in his hand.

Across the aisle, near her father's carnation-and-rose-covered casket, sat Ingrid Herman Reese, with Dye at her side. Woody's wife, Charlotte, died in 1982.

An outpouring of generosity from the show business world greeted the

news of Herman's trouble, and tens of thousands of dollars was raised to keep a roof over Ingrid's and Woody's head

But through it all, Parnassus reminded the mourners, A there wasn't a bit of bitterness@ on Woody's part. A He had faith that tomorrow would be better.@

A Woody had many blessings,@ Parnassus observed, A and I would say that you@ -- he nodded at Ingrid and the mourners who nearly filled the church -- A were among those blessings.@

hat was quite a statement,  for in the pews were Henry Mancini, Les Brown and Ray Anthony, fellow Swing Era bandleaders; Stan Kenton's widow, Audrey Kenton; arrangers Nat Pierce, Bill Holman and Don Menza; former Down Beat editor Gene Lees; record company president Albert Marx, singers Mary Ann McCall and Polly Podewell; and jazz musicians Ross Tornpkins, Jimmy Rowles. Stacy Rowles, Bill Perkins, Cappy Lewis, Pete Candoli, Don Rader, Marty Harris, Doug McDonald, Jack Nimitz and Terry Gibbs.

Hundreds of other famous and not-so-famous friends had attended several musical tributes to Herman as he lay dying,and more would be at the wake that night at Alfonse's in Toluca Lake.

Representing Woody's last Thundering Herd, and the hundreds of young musicians to whom he had acted as Road Father in his 50-year career, were trumpeters Bill Byrne and Diane White and trombonist John Fedchock. The band was in Stillwater, Okla., preparing for a memorial concert at Oklahoma State University that night.

Herman's boyhood friend from Milwaukee, Jack Seifert, delivered the eulogy, quoting the man Woody had called one of America's greatest poets; Johnny Mercer, who put lyrics to the band's tender ballad "Early Autumn" :

When an early autumn walks the land, 

the summer trees will understand ...

what memories we hold ...

a dance pavilion in the rain ...

a town grown lonely.'

"The jazz ambassador won't be making those endless one-nighters anymore," Seifert said. AWe=ve lost the greatest Pied Piper America has ever produced.@

Later, in the cemetery, the workers raised the silver and gray coffin again and slid it into the crypt. Then, as Seifert, Dye and the other mourners departed, the workers lowered the curtain.

Los Angeles Herald,, Nov. 3, 1987

 

 

 

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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