By Loren Schoenberg
In the rarified precincts of the jazz pantheon, Lester Young is unique in that the true essence of his genius remains obscure. Armstrong, Monk, Tatum, Coltrane and the others recorded prolifically in the studio and out of it, etching a relatively complete picture of their abilities. To be sure, there were extraordinary moments that vanished the moment they were created, lingering only in the memories of those lucky enough to have witnessed them. But with Young, the overwhelming consensus of those who heard him when he was young is that he could and frequently did play extended solos, and that it was only in that form that he could express his unique and large-range sense of musical architecture. So we are left to parse, ever so minutely, the shards of that vision as they are to be found on the recordings that comprise this collection. All jazz soloists up through the advent of long-playing records in the '50s had to learn to express themselves succinctly and no one did it any better than Young at his best.
Young came from a musical family led by the patriarch, William “Billy” Young, who played all the instruments and made a living first as a teacher and then as a touring bandleader. The family’s story has been told in great detail in the three extant Young biographies (written by Frank Buchman-Moller, Douglas Daniels and Dave Gelly), all of which are well worth reading, as is The Lester Young Reader, Lewis Porter, ed.
Although born at his mother’s family home in Woodville, Mississippi on August 27, 1909, Young was raised in and around New Orleans, and was entranced by music from an early age. Rhythm was vital to his music, and it comes as no surprise that he started on the drums before switching to the saxophone. After the trials and tribulations that came from a sensitive nature married to an indefatigable need to assert his musical prowess, the teenaged Lester Young emerged as a demon on the soprano, alto, and baritone saxophones.
His relationship with his father was complicated. Billy Young knew early on how talented Lester was and always accepted him back into the fold after one of Lester’s frequent escapes from the family. This did not lessen the threat of yet another whipping for some infraction or of a tour into the Deep South, which remained all the provocation Lester needed to run away yet again, and by his late teens he strove to establish a life away from the family.
The majority of Young’s biography through the Basie years is covered in the session notes that follow. One misconception that should be cleared up before delving into the music is that contrary to the legend, Lester Young was never really a Kansas City musician. It’s true that he was playing there with Count Basie in 1936 when they got the call to come to New York, but he had spent the great majority of his time in the preceding years based in Minneapolis. Billy Young had established the family there in the late '20s and Lester found the atmosphere convivial enough to make it his home base. Lester married for the first time while there, and found frequent employment at The Cotton Club.
It was in and around Kansas City, however, that the best bands in the region were located, so Young began to gravitate there more and more frequently. There were stints with the famed Blue Devils, during and after Walter Page's tenure as leader, and six months with King Oliver in 1933. Indeed, this collaboration between Young and Louis Armstrong's mentor facilitates many fascinating connections in the jazz lineage. Many musicians have shared the bandstand for a night or two in bands put together for special occasions, but to play in a band for an extended period led by a major player cannot help but be a significant influence. The enormity of the linkage becomes apparent when you consider that Young shared musical ideas with both Oliver, who was Armstrong’s mentor, and with drummer Roy Haynes, a favorite of Charlie Parker, John Coltrane and Chick Corea.
The many links between the musicians that eventually formed the Count Basie band is illustrated by following Young after he left King Oliver. This was the tail end of Bennie Moten's reign as king of Kansas City jazz. In 1933, after many disastrous months on the road, the Moten band replaced George E. Lee's band at a new K.C. nightspot, the Cherry Blossom. When Moten told the band that he intended to pull up stakes and hit the road again, they called a band meeting, and with Moten's approval, voted to stay in town, and elected Count Basie the nominal leader. Bennie Moten, now without his road gig and his band, created a hybrid unit along with Lee to play across town, at the Club Harlem. Soon thereafter, the Texan saxophonist Herschel Evans (who would create the tenor battle as a jazz convention with Young a few years later) joined the new Basie band, and Young was hired by Moten/Lee.
It was during this period that the legendary battle between Coleman Hawkins (on tour with Fletcher Henderson's band) and Young took place. Hawkins was late for the Henderson job, and Lester, in the audience for the express purpose of hearing Hawkins in person, sat in the great man's chair, played his saxophone and clarinet, and then ran back to his own sparsely attended job without ever hearing Hawkins play. When the Henderson band returned to KC several days later, Hawkins lost no time in seeking out the "local" who had sat in for him. What ensued was one of the most fabled "cutting contests" in jazz history. For the first time in his career, Hawkins’ legendary endurance and creativity was not only matched but surpassed in a session that lasted well after the sun had risen. Young actually seemed to grow stronger as the hours went by, and Hawkins (who, soaked with sweat while being bested for the first time, played the last part of the session in his undershirt -- far from the norm for the sartorially splendid Hawkins) was nearly late for yet another night's gig.
When Basie landed an engagement at Sam Baker's hotel in Little Rock, Arkansas early in 1934, Herschel Evans switched places with Young so he could stay in Kansas City. And it was during that engagement that Young received the legendary offer from Henderson to take Hawkins' chair. Young played an active role in this. He gave a friend, George Dixon, from Earl Hines’s New York-bound band, a letter for Henderson, stating his willingness to come to New York immediately if needed. Young's replacement in Little Rock was Buddy Tate, who was to inherit Evans' spot in the later Basie band.
Most significantly, it was during this period that Young began playing with Count Basie, Walter Page and Jo Jones. The result of all those nights and the millions of quarter notes that passed between them would bear fruit when they finally recorded together on the legendary Jones-Smith recordings of November 1936. But Young's sudden entry into jazz's major leagues would have to transpire first.
When Hawkins decided to expatriate to Europe a few months later, Henderson called upon the unknown Young, not the established New York Hawkins-ite Chu Berry, to fill what was jazz's most prestigious tenor saxophone chair. What should have been an absolute triumph soon turned into something more akin to humiliation, as Young's ultimately short tenure was made unbearable by his fellow bandsmen's taunts as they found him to be the anti-Hawk. And if that weren't enough, Young, boarding with Henderson, was woken up by Mrs. Henderson every morning, and played Hawkins' recorded solos.
One good thing did come out of this unhappy time, and that was the beginning of Young's friendship with Billie Holiday.
Unable to bear one more early morning Hawkins musicale, Young found a room in Holiday's mother's flat. Not only was their musical partnership kindled, but Billie also introduced Lester to the ins and outs of life in New York. The Henderson band left New York for an extended tour of the mid-west (that included a night in Bix Beiderbecke's hometown, Davenport, Iowa) and the musical ostracism and stress finally became too much to bear. He requested a discharge, along with a note stating that he hadn't been fired. Then it was back to Kansas City, where he joined Andy Kirk's band, at which point Kirk's tenor man, Ben Webster, one of Hawkins' finest disciples, came to New York and gave the Henderson band just what they wanted.
For many musicians, this would have been the end of the story: going to New York to join the major leagues, and coming back a few months later, horn in hand. To make matters worse, Young didn't fit in the Kirk band either and he was let go shortly thereafter. He flitted between Kansas City and Minneapolis over the next several months, working in a variety of bands, auditioning in vain for Earl Hines, and struggling to make ends meet. While in Minneapolis, he heard a broadcast of the Basie band, and was so dissatisfied with the tenor player (one Slim Freeman), that he sent a telegraph to his ex-leader asking for his job back. This set in motion a series of events that would have both of them on the stage of Carnegie Hall in less than two years' time, and it all revolved around a member of the Vanderbilt family, John Hammond.
John Hammond was a leading jazz critic who had championed Young during his brief Henderson stint two years earlier. He was also closely associated with his future brother-in-law Benny Goodman, who was winding up an extended engagement at Chicago's Congress Hotel. Ever on the prowl for a new band to proselytize, Hammond happened upon the Basie band broadcasting on a short wave station from their nightly gig at Kansas City’s Reno Club. Inquiries followed, and by Halloween of 1936, the Basie band was on their way to Chicago to prepare for their New York debut Christmas week. It was during this Chicago stay that the Jones-Smith recordings were made. They were so named because Basie had already signed a usurious recording contract with Jack Kapp of Decca Records, so they made four sides under the names of the drummer and the trumpeter.
Loren Schoenberg is the senior scholar at The National Jazz Museum in Harlem, a member of the faculty at The Juilliard School, and from 1986 to 1995 oversaw the Benny Goodman Archives at Yale University. A prolific conductor, arranger, and instrumentalist (tenor saxophone/piano), Schoenberg has conducted the Jazz at Lincoln Center Orchestra and the WDR Jazz Orchestra, among others, and has played and/or recorded with Benny Carter, Benny Goodman, Jimmy Heath, Eddie Durham, Marian McPartland, Clark Terry, John Lewis, Christian McBride, and Buck Clayton, among others. From 1997 to 2005, he served as musical director for Bobby Short. He has won two Grammys for liner notes (1994 and 2004), and published The NPR Guide to Jazz in 2003. He hosts "Jazz Potpourri" on KSDS Jazz 88.3 FM San Diego each and every Sunday, from 12 to 2 p.m. PT.
He can be reached at loren@jazz88.org
