IN THIS ISSUE:

• Remembering Maynard Fergusen
• Remembering Stan Kenton 

Remembering Clarenceville

BY MIDGE ELLIS

I grew up in Corbin, Kentucky, fifty miles from Tennessee and fifty miles from Virginia — in other words, the middle of nowhere. But my dad was a jazz buff and taught all three of us kids to listen to and appreciate it. Never in my wildest dreams would I have ever imagined that I would actually know some of the greats I listened to on the old Atwater Kent radio, while sitting on my dad's lap late at night. He would let us stay up late on Saturday night to hear broadcasts from Cincinnati, New Orleans and even Detroit, over clear-channel stations. 

Later, I would meet some of these wonderful bands at the Blue Room in the Roosevelt Hotel in New Orleans and that is how I came to book them for country clubs in Mississippi and Louisiana. When Clarenceville was looking for something to bring into the new L.E. Schmidt Auditorium in Livonia, I naturally suggested jazz!

Out first band was Buddy Rich, who came and played for $1,700 — an unheard of small fee for a big band — especially one as well known as Buddy's. We charged $2 per ticket, the going price for a movie. I promised Buddy that I would have lots of kids there and we did. He played "West Side Story" and "Channel One Suite," back-to-back, at the end of the first set and the sold-out house went crazy, including the kids who were sitting right down front. The ovation was overwhelming and Buddy came off stage with tears dripping off his chin.

He realized that if we don't pass the music down to our children, we would surely lose it to rock and roll or something else. He loved kids and was really a soft sentimental wonderful guy, unlike most of the stories you hear about him. Those things must have happened, but I got to know Buddy really well and I know that his reaction was based on the way people approached him.

One of my favorite stories about Buddy was when he went on a European tour with Sammy Davis, Jr., in the early 80s. He came to Detroit straight from there and I picked him up at the airport. I asked about the tour and he told me the promoter was from hell. Both Sammy and Buddy were to have limos picking them up at the airport in Paris. One arrived for Sammy and drove away. The band was boarding a bus to go the hotel. Buddy asked the promoter where his limo was and he said he could only get one and Buddy could ride the bus.

"I thought this was a bad beginning," Buddy said.  "I told him my contract called for a limo and he said I'd have to ride the bus this time. I stepped up on the bus and told all the guys to get offwe were going back to the States." The promoter told him he couldn't do that and Buddy said yes he could and the guys started getting off the bus. They had a real confrontation that led Buddy into one of his tirades. Now, my mouth is no prayer book, but I learned a lot of good ones from Buddy's vocabulary!

He said, "Midge, I said every cuss word I ever heard or knew in my whole life. I even went back to my childhood and pull up 'pooh-pooh' and 'cah-cah'."  That's my Buddy! I loved him dearly and could probably write a book just about him. But two have already been written, so I'll just share my stories with you, okay?

Midge Ellis is a SEMJA member and the Director of the Michigan Jazz Festival, which will be held July 16 at Schoolcraft College. All rights reserved by Midge Ellis.