JazzProfiles: Billie Holiday: The Strange, Sad and Sorrowful Life of

Thursday, May 5, 2011

Billie Holiday: The Strange, Sad and Sorrowful Life of

“I loved her. It was almost like she grew to be a part of me. Her insides were her outsides, you know? When she passed I was crying, not crying with sorrow, but crying because she was at peace at last. It was so beautiful, she gave so much feeling, it was overwhelming.”

- Shirley Horn [vocalist and song stylist]

“A great woman, very cool, and the hippest thing I ever knew.”

- Etta James [vocalist and song stylist]

“How many Billie Holidays are there and which do you prefer? Elated or dour, funny or truculent, sweet or sour, our Lady of Sorrows or 52^nd Street’s Queen, early Billie or late, Billie of hope or Billy or heartache, Billie with Pres or with strings, Lady Day or Lady Nightmare or Lady in Ermine, Lady Be Good, Lady in Red, Lady Luck, Lady Blue, Lady Divine, the Lady Who Swings the Band, Lady Mine – crank up the record machine, listen closely and take your choice.

For Billie Holiday is one of those exceptional artists whose work is a perfect tuning fork for our own inclinations. She echoes our emotions, rehabilitates our innocence, cauterizes our nerves.

That she managed so capacious a vision with her slim vocal range and infinite capacity for nurturing demons is a miracle to which generations of interpreters have been and will continue to be drawn. The greatest art never loses its mystery. The better we know hers, the more dreamlike and sensational it seems.”

- Gary Giddins

I had a fleeting look at singer Billie Holiday, once.

It came in the form of her appearance of The Sound of Jazz, a CBS television “Seven Lively Arts” special that was broadcast on Sunday afternoon, December 8, 1957.

Our television set was positioned in the living room of a third floor bay window out which one could see the streets, tenements and church bell towers in what has now become the fashionable Federal Hill area of Providence, RI.

It was a dreary day with skies that darkened and became very foreboding the way late afternoons could often, suddenly become during early New England winters [these also stayed late].

After two, stirring performances of Traditional or Dixieland Jazz by trumpeter Henry “Red” Allen’s All-Stars, the camera turned to Billie who was seated on a stool with members of pianist Mal Waldron’s group standing behind her and off to her left.

Suddenly, everything on the television screen looked and sounded as though it had become sluggish and subsumed by the murky mood of the day.

When the TV cameras focused on Billie, the view from the television screen appeared to go into slow motion. In this they were aided and abetted by Billie enunciation’s as her singing was languid, almost lethargic.

The TV cameras panned around the standing musicians in an unhurried manner and tenor saxophonists Lester Young, Ben Webster and Coleman Hawkins along with trumpeter “Doc” Cheatham and trombonist Vic Dickenson all took solos interspersed around Billie’s singing that were measured, bordering on being belabored.

Earlier that summer, I had attended the Newport [RI] Jazz Festival and loved being amidst the music and the musicians in what seemed like one continually joyous celebration of life.

But while watching and listening to Billie, I was struck by how strange, sad and sorrowful the music could become.

At the time, I was too young to realize that the television program was trying to achieve a “primitive” aura or that strange, sad and sorrowful were indeed an accurate description of Billie Holiday’s short-lived life [she died two years later in 1959 at the age of 44!].

Some months after Billie’s death, I purchased an issue of The New Yorker magazine and a record album of the music from The Sound of Jazz.. Whitney Balliett’s savvy writing in the former and Eric Larrabee’s liner notes to the latter offered me details about Billie television performance that provided a deeper understanding of what I had witnessed that dreary day in December 1957.

We thought we’d share Whitney and Eric’s essays with you, along with a video tribute to Billie which concludes this piece, as a way of remembering the role that Billie Holiday played in shaping The Sound of Jazz.

Miss Holiday

“Toward the end of her life, Billie Holiday, who died last summer, at the age of forty-four, had become inextricably caught in a tangle of notoriety and fame. It was compounded of an endless series of skirmishes with the police and the courts (she was shamelessly arrested on her deathbed for the alleged possession of narcotics); the bitter, vindictive, self-pitying image of herself established in her autobiography, published in 1956—a to-hell-with-you image that tended to repel rather than attract compassion; and the fervent adulation still granted her by a diminishing but ferocious band of admirers. Her new listeners must have been puzzled by all this turmoil, for she sang during much of the fifties with a heavy, unsteady voice that sometimes gave the impression of being pushed painfully in front of her, like a medicine ball. She seemed, in fact, to be embattled with every song she tackled.

Nonetheless, her admirers were not mad. Between 1935, when she popped out of nowhere, and 1940, Miss Holiday had knocked a good portion of the jazz world on its ear with a hundred or so recordings, several dozen of which rank with the greatest of non-classical vocal efforts. Part of the success of these recordings, which have an uncanny balance of ease, control, unself-consciousness, emotion, and humor, is due to the accompaniment provided by small bands made up of men like Lester Young, Buck Clayton, Roy Eldridge, Benny Goodman, and Teddy Wilson. Though their work—in obbligatos that underline the grace of her voice, in exemplary solos, and in tumbling, laughing ensembles—often takes up as much space as the vocals, it is Miss Holiday who continues to astonish.

Until she appeared, genuine jazz singing had been practiced largely by a myriad of often obscure blues singers led by Bessie Smith, and by a handful of instrumentalists led by Louis Armstrong. Bessie Smith leveled a massive lyricism at limited materials, while Armstrong's coalyard rumblings, though irresistible in themselves, occasionally seemed to have little to do with singing. Distilling and mixing the best of her predecessors with her own high talents, Billie Holiday became the first full-fledged jazz singer (and, with the defection in recent years of Ella Fitzgerald and Sarah Vaughan, possibly the last). She could sing anything, and her style was completely her own. She appeared to play her voice rather than sing with it. In addition to a hornlike control of melody and rhythm, she had an affecting contralto that took on innumerable timbres: a dark-brown sound, sometimes fretted by growls or hoarseness, in the lower register; a pliable oboe tone in the high register; and a clear, pushing, little-girl alto in between.

Her style came in three subtly different parts. There was one for ephemeral popular songs, one for the more durable efforts of George Gershwin and his peers, and one for the blues. Since she was primarily an improviser, not an interpreter, she was often most striking when handling pop songs, like "Yankee Doodle Never Went to Town," "It's Too Hot for Words," and "What a Little Moonlight Can Do," which she spattered with a mocking, let's-have-some-fun-with-this air. Thus, at a fast tempo, she might loll back in half time, and not only elongate each word, so that it seemed nothing but vowels, but flatten the melody into a near-monotone of four or five notes. Then, in the last eight bars or so, she would suddenly pounce on the beat, pick up the melody, and close in a here-I-am rush. (If the evil was in her she might stomp such a number all the way through, rocking it relentlessly back and forth and coating it with dead-serious growls.) At slow tempos, she would use the full range of her voice, adding exaggerated smears to her phrases or dotting them with series of laughlike staccato notes. At the same time, she was busy fashioning a deceptively simple and thorough melodic variation on the tune, smoothing its wrinkles, toughening up its soft spots, and lending it far more lyricism than it usually deserved. This was accomplished not by superimposing melodic candelabra on her material, in the manner of Sarah Vaughan and her baroque students, but by unobtrusively altering its melodic and rhythmic structure with a flow of marvelously placed phrases that might wander around behind the beat, and then suddenly push ahead of it (each syllable urgently pinned to a staccato note) or slide through legato curves full of blue notes and generous vibratos. Miss Holiday's rhythmic sense had much in common with Lester Young's, who would sooner have gone into another line of work than place a note conventionally. Moreover, her enunciation of pop songs was a mixture of clarity and caricature, bringing into action that rule of ridicule that the victim be reproduced perfectly before being destroyed. Her "moon"s and "June"s rang like bells, and one didn't hear their cracks until the sound began to die away. The composers of the pop songs she sang should be grateful; her renditions ("Ooo-ooo-ooo/ What a lil moon-laight can do-oo-oo"), and not the songs, are what we remember.

Her approach to Gershwin and such was almost reverent in comparison. In a number like "Summertime," she allowed the emotion that she had spent on lesser materials in sarcasm or near-flippancy to come through undisguised. Ceaselessly inventive, she would still shape the melody to fit her voice and mood, but in such a way that its beauties—and not hers—were pointed up. (The number of popular singers, to say nothing of jazz singers, who have been able to slip inside their material, instead of plodding along beside it, is remarkably small.) "Summertime" became a pure lullaby, "But Not for Me" a self-joshing lament, and "Porgy" a prayer. When there were superior lyrics on hand, she underlined them with a diction and an understanding that shunted the meaning of each word forward. More than that, she would, at her best, lend a first-rate song a new and peculiarly heightened emotion that, one suddenly realized, its composer had only been reaching for. And the effort never showed.

Miss Holiday simply let go when she sang the blues. She was never, however, a loud singer, nor did she depend on the big whisper of most of her microphone-reared successors; instead, she projected her voice firmly, keeping in steady balance her enunciation, timbre, and phrasing. She was, in fact, a model elocutionist. Free of the more complex structures of the standard popular song, she moved through the innumerable emotional pastures of the form, ranging from the down-and-out to the joyous to the nasty and biting to quiet, almost loving blues.

Then, in 1944, when Miss Holiday started recording again (after the recording bans), the magic had begun to vanish. Perhaps it was the increasing strain of her private life, or the mysterious rigor mortis that so often freezes highly talented but untrained and basically intuitive performers. At any rate, she had become self-conscious. Although her voice had improved in resonance and control, her style had grown mannered. She ended her phrases with disconcerting, lachrymose dips. She struggled with her words instead of batting them about or savoring them. The melodic twists and turns lost their spontaneity. One could accurately predict her rhythmic patterns.

Even her beauty—the huge gardenia clamped to the side of her head; the high, flashing cheekbones; the almost motionless body, the snapping fingers, and the thrown-back head; the mobile mouth, which seemed to measure the emotional shape and texture of each word—implied careful calculation. From time to time, some of this stylization lifted—she never, of course, lost her presence, which became more and more melancholy —and there were glimpses of her old naturalness. After 1950, her voice grew deeper and coarser, and her sense of pitch and phrasing eluded her, and finally she became that most rending of spectacles —a once great performer doing a parody of herself that could have been bettered by her inferiors. Her still devoted partisans clamored on; they would have done her greater service by doffing their hats and remaining silent. …”

“The best thing that ever happened to television happened on CBS between five and six in the afternoon on Sunday, December 8. At least that was where and when it happened first; the program may have been run at a different hour and date in your part of the country, and—if there is any justice—it will be repeated, the more often the better. It was an installment in "The Seven Lively Arts" series called "The Sound of Jazz," and as far as I'm concerned you can throw away all previous standards of comparison. This is where live television began to amount to something.

It was opened and closed, and from time to time interrupted, by John Crosby as "host," but mostly it was musicians playing jazz—in a bare studio, dressed in whatever they liked (hats, sweat shirts, it didn't matter), smoking, talking to one another, or just walking around. Each group was introduced and then away it went, with time enough (in nearly all cases) to get the music going, while the camera roamed over the faces of participants and spectators. There were no phony or elaborate explanations. As the executive producer, Jack Houseman, remarked approvingly to the music critic Virgil Thomson, during the dress rehearsal: "This is the first program about jazz that doesn't say it started in New Orleans and then went up the river."

Technically "The Sound of Jazz" gave the appearance of being very (as they say on the Avenue) "primitive." You knew that you were in a studio and that these people were being televised. If it sounded better to have a microphone right in front of a man's face, there the microphone would be; and if one cameraman got in another's way he didn't scurry ashamedly out of it. But this impromptu effect, of course, took a deal of contriving. The musicians couldn't believe at first that hats were really okay, and Billie Holiday had to be persuaded to appear in slacks and pony-tail instead of the gown she had specially planned on. The air of casualness was in fact the end product of months of work.

THIS milestone was primarily made possible by Houseman, his assistant Robert Goldman, and the producer for this show, Robert Herridge, who had the unbelievable courage and good sense to hire good taste and turn it loose. They found two jazz critics with some ideas, Whitney Balliett and Nat Hentoff, and after the usual round of conferences and memos, gave them complete artistic control. Balliett and Hentoff, from the start, had the kind of program in mind that they eventually produced—one that would concentrate on music. When I asked Balliett at what point they had decided in favor of visual realism and informality, he thought a moment and said, "I don't think it ever occurred to us to do it any other way."

They got the musicians they wanted, whether currently well known or not and whether or not "485" (the address on Madison of the Columbia front office) would have made the same choice. They were able to assemble combinations of musicians whose booking arrangements usually keep them apart, and also let an old-timer like Pee Wee Russell play side by side with a modernist like Jimmy Giuffre. The name of one performer made "485" nervous, but Balliett and Hentoff put their feet down—and they won. Let it be written that as of 1957 there was still some decency left, and somebody willing to fight for it.

As "The Sound of Jazz" came into the final weeks before air-time, it began to make other people uneasy, and for better reasons. Since there was so little of the normal panic on the surface, everybody panicked inside. The director, Jack Smight, found that he was twice as jumpy without actors around to worry about; and when "485" found out in the last few days that there really wasn't any script to speak of it began to emit angry noises: "What are you doing down there?" Balliett and Hentoff could only answer that everything was going to be fine, the musicians would turn up, and there would be some music. They hoped this was true.

THEY needn't have worried. If you were lucky enough to have seen "The Sound of Jazz" I don't have to tell you how great it was and, even if you weren't, what I'd want to do anyway is sell you an explanation of why it was great. The cornerstone of live television, class will please now repeat, is the human face—with its spontaneity and tension, its halo of contradictions, its hints of life lived and life to come. Of course the TV camera is merciless; it draws on the person behind the face for all the resources that it can find there. It is not one eye but millions of eyes; it has high expectations and asks that the person before it be poised in the balance, somehow challenged or tested, so as to bring forth the most meanings from the ever-changing interplay of expressions in the face.

What made the jazz musicians extraordinary, when the camera put their features through its harsh examination, was how much it found there. Children and animals make the best movie actors, as Douglas Fairbanks said, because they are un-self-conscious and unable to fake. No more could these musicians be anything but themselves, for they are committed to independence and to a headlong attack on the cosmos. It showed; here— and no kidding—were individuals of stature and profundity, of flesh and substance, of warmth and bite. The music was good, yes, but what lifted "The Sound of Jazz" to a level hitherto un-attained was the sight of it being made. As a lady in White Plains sat down and wrote CBS as soon as the show was over, one so seldom has the chance "to see real people doing something that really matters to them."

Neither Balliett nor Hentoff expected the visual effect to be as sensational as it was. They knew that director Jack Smight "dug" jazz, but they would never have dared anticipate the deft and intricate camera work that enabled him to cut from one shot to another as skillfully as though he were a movie editor, working with developed film instead of a live show. The cameramen simply outdid themselves (for the record, and giving them a credit line they should have had on the air, they were Bob Heller, Harold Classen, Joe Sokota, Jack Brown, and Marty Tuck). Balliett and Hentoff's long and careful planning had made it possible for the musicians to extemporize; now the cameramen and director could extemporize too, with the freedom to smudge the edges—leave that head half in the way—of practiced talent, the artistic intelligence that dares to risk a blunder because it knows precisely what it is doing. Jazz is like that, and as a result the two effects of "The Sound of Jazz"—on the eye and on the ear—were miraculously in tune with each other.

NOW there is talk not only of a repeat but of a series, and no one could better deserve it than this new-found team. But one wonders if the miracle can happen twice. Part of the reason that Balliett and Hentoff were let alone was that no one in high authority really understood what they were up to. Now the secret is out and thpre will be many hazards. As I sat with them in producer Robert Herridge's office, going over the first day's mail, the phone rang and Herridge answered it. He listened, laughed explosively, and hung up. "Lawrence Welk," he said, "demands equal time."

—ERIC LARRABEE

The personnel and solo sequence for the Billie Holiday video tribute are -

Fine and Mellow—Billie Holiday with Mai Waldron All-Stars including: Lester Young, Coleman Hawkins, Ben Webster, tenor sax; Doc Cheatham, trumpet; Vic Dickenson, trombone; Mai Waldron, piano; Jo Jones, drums; Danny Barker, guitar; Jim Atlas, bass.

1st chorus: Holiday

2nd chorus: Young

3rd chorus: Webster

4th chorus: Holiday

5th chorus: Cheatham

6th chorus: Hawkins

7th chorus: Holiday

8th chorus: Dickenson

9th chorus: Holiday

10th chorus: Holiday

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Table of Contents Introduction pp. 6-10 Prologue - Seeds in the Swing Era from Modern Jazz by Alun Morgan and Raymond Horricks pp. 11-20 Chapter 1. The Miles Davis 1948/1949 Group from Modern Jazz by Alun Morgan and Raymond Horricks, pp. 21-29 Chapter 2. The Los Angeles Jazz Scene of the 1950’s The Gerry Mulligan Quartet by Robert Gordon, pp. 30-38 Chapter 3. The West Coast Sound by Robert Gordon, pp. 39-48 Chapter 4. Two Tenor Conversation with Bill Perkins and Richie Kamuca by John Tynan, pp. 49-53 Chapter 5. Bill Perkins - The Gordon Jack Interview, pp. 54-58 Chapter 6. Richie Kamuca - The Gordon Jack Interview, pp. 59-62 Chapter 7. Bob Cooper - Quietly, Always There by Steven A. Cerra, pp. 63-68 Chapter 8. William “Buddy” Collette, 1921-2010 by Peter Jacobson and the Central Avenue Sounds Editorial Committee, pp. 69-73 Chapter 9. The Forgotten Ones - Buddy Collette - by Gordon Jack, pp. 74-77 Chapter 10. Harold Land [1928-2001]: The Hard Bop Legacy - Steven A. Cerra and John Tynan, pp. 78-82 Chapter 11. Jack Montrose by Gordon Jack, pp. 83-89 Chapter 12. Chet Baker - “The Jazz Musician Interview” by Jerome Reece, pp. 90-99 Chapter 13. Remembering Wardell Gray [1921-1955] - Part 1 - The Ira Gitler Notes, pp. 100-104 Chapter 14. Remembering Wardell Gray [1921-1955] - Part 2 - The Michael James Essay, pp. 105-111 Chapter 15. Remembering Wardell Gray [1921-1955] - Part 3 - The Herbie Butterfield Essay, pp. 112-117 Chapter 16, Remembering Wardell Gray [1921-1955] - Part 4 - The Alun Morgan Essay, pp. 118-122 Chapter 17. Funny Frank [Rosolino] by John Tynan, pp. 123-125 Chapter 18. Lou Levy - John Tynan, pp. 126-129 Chapter 19. Lou Levy - An Interview with Steve Voce, pp. 130-137 Chapter 20. Jimmy Rowles: Sprinkling Jazz by Steven A. Cerra, pp. 138-144 Chapter 21. Jimmy Rowles: The Len Lyons Interview, pp. 145-150 Chapter 22. Pete Jolly - Some Variations by Steven A. Cerra, pp. 151-163 Chapter 23. Willis and John Haley - Bill Holman Talks About Zoot Sims, pp. 164-176 Chapter 24. Bill Holman: Recollections of Fellow Musicians from The Early Years with Bill Dobbins, pp. 177-187 Chapter 25. Bob Gordon -Baritone Blues by Gordon Jack, pp. 188-193 Chapter 26. The Great Herb Geller by Gene Lees, pp. 194-203 Chapter 27. Herb Geller and Interview with Gordon Jack, pp. 204-212 Chapter28. Teddy Edwards: A Tenor Saxophonist of Importance by Steven A. Cerra, pp. 213-215 Chapter 29. The Advent of Victor Feldman by Steven A. Cerra, pp. 216-226 Chapter 30. Victor Feldman and Frank Rosolino: The “Lost Recordings” by Steven A. Cerra, pp. 227-231 Chapter 31. Nascent Lennie Niehaus by Max Harrison, pp. 232-239 Chapter 32, Bud Shank - Burning Brighter by Fran Kelley, pp. 240-242 Chapter 33. Bud Shank Parts 1 and 2 by Doug Ramsey and Gordon Jack, pp. 243-261 Chapter 34. Milt Bernhart by Gordon Jack, pp. 262-265 Chapter 35. Bob Brookmeyer: An Interview with Bill Coss, pp. 266-270 Chapter 36. Extracts From An Interview with Bob Brookmeyer by Wayne Enstice and Paul Rubin, pp. 271-278 Chapter 37. Bob Enevoldsen with Gordon Jack, pp. 279-283 Chapter 38. Marty Paich and A Band Within A Band” by Steven A. Cerra, pp. 284-293 Chapter 39. Cal Tjader - The 1957 Downbeat Interview by John Tynan, pp. 294-297 Chapter 40. Cal Tjader, Paul Horn and the 1958 Monterey Jazz Festival, pp. 298-302 Chapter 41. Cal Tjader: “A Certain, Smooth Elegance” [La Onda Va Bien] by Steven. A Cerra, pp. 303-309 Chapter 42. “The Latinization of Cal Tjader - Or … what’s a nice Swedish boy like you doing in a bag like this?” by Harvey Siders, pp. 310-316 Chapter 43. College Goes to Jazz - John Graas and the Westlake College Quintet, pp. 317-321 Chapter 44. “Don Fagerquist - The Forgotten Ones” Series by Gordon Jack, pp. 322-325 Chapter 45. Bass Players: Scott LaFaro and Gary Peacock by Martin Williams, pp. 326-333 Chapter 46. California Hard 1 - Clifford Brown, Herb Geller, Hampton Hawes and Dexter Gordon by Robert Gordon, pp. 334-343 Chapter 47. California Hard II - The Curtis Counce Group, Chet Baker Quintet, Pepper Adams - Mel Lewis Quintet and Others by Robert Gordon, pp. 344-354

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Table of Contents Introduction: The Jazz West Coast Style of Music by Steven A. Cerra, pp. 6-9 Prologue - West Coast Sounds by John Dutton, pp. 10-16 Chapter 1. Central Avenue Sounds by Bob Gordon, 17-32 Chapter 2. Shorty Rogers and His Giants - by Bob Gordon, 33-44 Chapter 3. Shorty Rogers and the Development of the West Coast Style of Jazz by John Graas, pp. 45-48 Chapter 4. Shorty Rogers - The Gentle Giant by Howard Lucraft, pp. 49-53 Chapter 5. Shorty Rogers The Steve Voce Interview, pp. 54-58 Chapter 6. Shelly Manne - The Lighthouse and Shorty Rogers - Steven A. Cerra, pp. 59-73 Chapter 7. The Lighthouse Café as an Incubator for West Coast Jazz by Steven A. Cerra, pp. 74-77 Chapter 8. Jim Giuffre Musician by Nat Hentoff - Jim Giuffre Composer As Told to Downbeat [John Tynan], pp. 78-81 Chapter 9. The Passionate Conviction: An Interview with Jimmy Giuffre by Lorin Stephens, pp. 82-90. Chapter 10. Jimmy Giuffre in the Jazz Literature : Jordi Pujol, Will McFarland and Francis Davis, pp. 91-101 Chapter 11. Jimmy Giuffre - The Pastoral Man by Ed Michel, pp. 102-112 Chapter 12. Peter Welding - Booklet Notes to The Complete Pacific Jazz and Capitol Recordings of the Gerry Mulligan Quartet and Tentette with Chet Baker [Mosaic MR 5-102], pp. 113-118 Chapter 13. Gerry Mulligan: The Gordon Jack Interview, pp. 119-125 Chapter 14. The West Coast School Of White Musicians And Its Soloists - from "Modern Jazz" by Morgan and Horricks, pp. 126-134 Chapter 15. The Composers of the West Coast School - from "Modern Jazz" by Morgan and Horricks, pp. 135-142 Chapter 16. Shelly Redux – More Thoughts From and About The Manne by Steven A. Cerra, pp. 143-153 Chapter 17. Shelly Manne & His Men at The Blackhawk: A Review of the Jazz Literature by Steven A. Cerra, pp. 154-169 Chapter 18. Shelly Manne and His Men Play Peter Gunn by Lester Koenig, pp. 170-172 Chapter 19. Hank Mancini - Jazz Musician by Steven A. Cerra, pp. 173-175 Chapter 20. Stan Getz - East of the Sun: The West Coast Sessions - The Ted Gioia Notes, pp. 176-181 Chapter 21. STAN AND GERRY - Occasional Collaborators" by Gordon Jack, pp. 182-185 Chapter 22. Shelly Manne: “Portrait of a Jazz Success” by John Tynan, pp.186-193 Chapter 23. Art Pepper - "The Whiteness of the Wail" by Gary Giddins, pp. 194-197 Chapter 24. Art Pepper-Marty Paich Inc. by Alun Morgan, pp. 198-203 Chapter 25. Art Pepper Plus Eleven by Marty Paich, pp. 204-207 Chapter 26. "Straight Life - The Story of Art Pepper" by Gary Giddins, pp. 208-212 Chapter 27. Art Pepper by Larry Kart, pp. 213-217 Chapter 28. Stan Levey - The Alun Morgan Interview, pp.218-222 Chapter 29. Stan Levey: From Left to Right - The JazzProfiles Interview by Steven A. Cerra, pp. 223-231 Chapter 30. Stan Levey - The Gordon Jack Interview, pp. 232-236 Chapter 31. Mel Lewis in the Jazz Literature - Steven A. Cerra, Ed.. pp. 237-247 Chapter 32. Mel Lewis – Life in Los Angeles - Chris Smith, pp. 248-253 Chapter 33. Mel Lewis, Terry Gibbs and The Dream Band by Terry Gibbs and Chris Smith, pp. 254-258 Chapter 34. Larry Bunker - Portrait of a Jazz Drummer and Studio Musician - The Gordon Jack Interview, pp. 259-263 Chapter 35. Larry Bunker - Modern Drummer Interview with David Levine and the Steve Voce Obituary for the Independent, pp. 264-269 Chapter 36. Whatever Happened to Larry Bunker? by Mal Sands, pp. 270-277 Chapter 37. JazzLife - Hollywood and Los Angeles by William Claxton, pp. 278-284 Chapter 38. Dave Pell by Gordon Jack, pp. 285-288 Chapter 39. Dave Pell - The Complete Trend and Kapp Recordings 1953-1956 by Steven A. Cerra and Jordi Pujol, pp. 289-296 Chapter 40. The Case for Dave Pell - The Octets and Beyond by Steven A. Cerra, pp. 297-302 Chapter 41. Chico Hamilton Quintet - The Robert Gordon/Mosaic Records Notes, pp. 303-307 Chapter 42. The Chico Hamilton Quintet by Gordon Jack, pp. 308-312 Chapter 43. Terry Gibbs' Big Band - "Vamp 'Till Ready" by John Tynan, pp. 313-318 Chapter 44. Part 1 - The Terry Gibbs Dream Band from “Terry Gibbs Good Vibes - A Life in Jazz,” pp. 319-326 Chapter 45. Part 2 -The Terry Gibbs Dream Band from “Terry Gibbs Good Vibes - A Life in Jazz,” pp. 327-334 Chapter 46. Part 3 -The Terry Gibbs Dream Band from “Terry Gibbs Good Vibes - A Life in Jazz,” pp. 335-344 Epilogue: Jazz on the West Coast - “Preface” by Robert Gordon, pp. 345-347

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Should you like to purchase a copy, here’s the Table of Contents for - A Dave Brubeck Reader, Volume 1 - 1948 to 1972 which is now available as a paperback and an eBook exclusively on Amazon.com. Once the cost of publication has been met, I am donating half of my royalties to the local school district for use toward the purchase of musical instruments for individual students. Introduction, pp. 7-9 Prologue - Dave Brubeck: A Life in American Music by Doug Ramsey, pp. 10-35 Chapter 1 - “Time to Begin” by Fred M. Hall, pp. 36-43 Chapter 2. The Dave Brubeck Octet by Dave Brubeck and Dr. Frank Tirro, pp. 44-51 Chapter 3. The Dave Brubeck Octet: A Formula and A Dilemma by Raymond Horricks, pp. 52-57 Chapter 4. The Dave Brubeck Octet by Philip Clark, pp. 58-70 Chapter 5. Cal Tjader and The Dave Brubeck Octet and Trio by S. Duncan Reid, pp. 71-78 Chapter 6. The Complete Storyville Broadcasts - Jason Yale, pp. 79-83 Chapter 7. The Formative Years of the Dave Brubeck Quartet by Philip Elwood, pp. 84-94 Chapter 8. Brubeck at Oberlin, A Review of the Jazz Literature by Steven A. Cerra, pp. 95-104. Chapter 9. 1954 Jazz at College of the Pacific and Jazz Goes to College - Wayne Morrill, Katie Neubauer and George Avakian, pp. 105-114 Chapter 10. The Early Years at Columbia Records and Brubeck Time by Stephen Crist, pp. 115-120 Chapter 11. Dave Brubeck Answers His Critics - Don Freeman DB 8.10.1955, pp. 121-123 Chapter 12. Ralph J. Gleason - “Dave Brubeck: What Makes Him Tick,” DB 7.25.1957, pp. 124-130 Chapter 13. Ralph J. Gleason - Dave Brubeck: 'They Said I Was Too Far Out' DB 8. 8. 1957, pp. 131-137 Chapter 14. Ralph J. Gleason - Dave Brubeck: First Things First, DB 9.5.1957, pp. 138-145 Chapter 15. The Quartet from These Jazzmen of Our Times by Raymond Horricks, pp. 146-152 Chapter 16. Jazz Impressions of the U.S.A. and Dave Digs Disney by Philip Clark, pp. 153-159 Chapter 17. Jazz Impressions of Dave Brubeck by Steven A. Cerra and Howard Mandel, 160-166 Chapter 18. Digging Dave Brubeck and Time Out - Alan Goldscher, pp. 167-182 Chapter 19. Metrical Experimentation from "Dave Brubeck's Time Out" by Stephen Crist, pp. 183-189 Chapter 20. Dave Brubeck’s Time Out: Why It’s So Great - Kile Smith, pp. 190-192 Chapter 21. Dave Brubeck - Beyond Take Five - John Edward Hasse, pp. 193-196 Chapter 22. Dave Brubeck and Stan Kenton: Alike and Unalike by Harry Frost, pp. 197-200 Chapter 23. Pops - Dave and Iola Brubeck - The Real Ambassadors by Steven A. Cerra and Ricky Riccardi, pp. 201-210 Chapter 24. The Real Ambassadors by Penny M. von Eschen, pp. 211-218 Chapter 25. The Real Ambassadors by Keith Hatschek, pp. 219-225 Chapter 26. Mr. Armstrong and Mr. Glasser - Gary Giddins, pp. 226-228 Chapter 27. Beyond Time Out - The Undiscovered Dave Brubeck by Steven A. Cerra, 229-237 Chapter 28. Dave Brubeck, Composer, by Leonard Feather, pp. 238-244 Chapter 29. A Quartet of Five (Dave Brubeck) by Gary Giddins, pp. 245-249 Chapter 30. Dave Brubeck: The Man on the Buffalo Nickel - Gene Lees, pp. 250-268 Chapter 31. Compadres with Brubeck and Mulligan - Jerome Klinkowitz, pp. 269-278 Chapter 32. “A Quarter Century Young: The Dave Brubeck Quartet,” Arnold J. Smith, DB March 25,1976, pp. 279-288 Epilogue - Dave Brubeck: The Smithsonian Oral History Program NEA Jazz Masters Interviews, pp. 289-352 Bibliography, pp. 353-360 Discography, pp. 361-364

Our Thanks to Alan Parr for this review on Amazon.UK.

The very title makes it clear that this is not a biography in the conventional sense. However, in many ways it works better than a normal biography. The author has identified six phases of Gerry Mulligan's career and illustrated each with several suitable pieces of writing - not his own, but drawn from a vast array of sources - including both contemporary and retrospective pieces such as comprehensive sleeve notes, magazine articles, and interviews. I realised that there are considerable advantages to this approach. A conventional biographer will form a picture of his subject and this view will tend to shape everything he writes. The use of pieces from several dozen writers helps us get a much more rounded picture of the subject - and it is clear that Gerry Mulligan did indeed have several sides to his personality. True there are a number of episodes and anecdotes which get repeated several times but I did not find this obtrusive; rather, seeing the same story from different sources helped me form a more balanced picture. Biography or not Steve Cerra has arranged the materials to enlighten us about each stage of Gerry's career. It all works beautifully, with important recordings illustrated with the original sleeve notes and contemporary reviews, and for each self-contained section it is natural to return to listen once more to the recordings themselves. This isn't one of those books where you say 'I couldn't put it down' and I suspect the author would be rather disappointed if anyone did. I'm pleased to say it took me six weeks to read. I've enjoyed Mulligan's music for more than sixty years - we called our first cat Mulligan - but I learned a great deal. It's not just the book list that is extensive; the author's knowledge of Mulligan's music and across the jazz scene as a whole is encyclopedic. I enjoyed the book immensely and was happy to take my time to enjoy each section and its associated music. I unreservedly recommend A Gerry Mulligan Reader.

Many thanks to Jeffrey Sultanof for these reviews.

“I salute Steven Cerra, drummer and writer, who has self-published two extraordinary volumes on Gerry Mulligan and Bill Evans. Cerra, who continues publishing a blog called Jazz Profiles, also writes a column right here for Substack. His Substack column reprints articles that in many cases are hard to find. That’s what he has done with his readers. He has gathered liner notes and often hard-to-find articles and interviews of said artists. Reading them for the first time or re-reading them after many years is fun and enlightening, and puts them into active circulation. Previously, you would have to go to specialist libraries or private collections to find them. Having them easily accessible is a boon to historians like myself for obvious reasons - the information is at my fingertips (literally) and it is easier to find sources of quotes for accurate footnoting. These are also the sorts of books that you can’t put down once you start reading. I urge you to check them out. [They are available exclusively on Amazon both as paperbacks and eBooks. Just type in Steven A. Cerra in the Books section on Amazon’s site to search for them.] Kindle prices are $9.99 each - a bargain!!!”

Ricardo Pinheiro's Latest - TONE STORIES - Coming from Fresh Sound on April 19th

Ricardo Pinheiro completed a Degree in Music at Berklee College of Music, Boston; Degree in Psychology Sciences at the Universidade de Lisboa; and a PhD in Musicology (Ethnomusicology) at the Universidade Nova de Lisboa. He studied with Mick Goodrick, George Garzone, Ed Tomassi, Ken Pullig, Wayne Krantz, Ken Cervenka, Chris Washburne and Salwa Castelo-Branco. He played/recorded with Peter Erskine, David Liebman, Chris Cheek, Mário Laginha, Eric Ineke, Perico Sambeat, Stephan Astbury, João Paulo Esteves da Silva, Remix Ensemble, Matt Renzi, Jon Irabagon, John Gunther, Mike Del Ferro, André Charlier, Benoît Sourisse, among many others. He teaches at the Escola Superior de Música de Lisboa, and is the Director of its Masters in Music Program. He played and participated in conferences and meetings in Austria, Greece, Spain, France, The Netherlands, Germany, U.S.A., Denmark, Italy, South Africa, among other countries, and published articles in journals such as Acta Musicologica of the International Musicological Society, the Jazz Research Journal, or the International Review for The Aesthetics and Sociology of Music. https://www.ricardopinheiro.com/bio

My thanks to Dr. James Williams for this 5 Star Amazon Review

A Gerry Mulligan Reader - Our Thanks to Kevin Goss

When I heard that Steven was writing this book, I couldn't wait to receive it because I have enjoyed his jazz writing for some time, and I have been a Mulligan disciple for over 40 years. The first surprise when it arrived is the size of this book. I was expecting it to be the standard paperback size, but this book is large. Given that the print size is standard, that was when I realized how comprehensive the book was going to be. Cerra covers Mulligan's music from his beginnings as a teenager to his final output while also paying attention to the legacy Jeru left behind. Using a combination of full articles, excerpts, and personal observations it's clear that this is a labour of love. I highly recommend this book for any fan of Gerry Mulligan, but also for any fan of jazz. Mulligan is in the pantheon of great jazz innovators and his legacy is given the justice it deserve's in Cerra's tome. Read this book and buy Gerry's music. You'll regret neither.

Our thanks to Jim Harrod at Jazz Research

At last, a resource of critical writings gathered in one place covering the career of one of the most influential jazz artists of the 20th century. The large format, 8.5 x 11 inches, enables a decent font size to read this collection that includes liner notes from many Mulligan CD releases where the text was often so small that a magnifying glass was needed. Cerra’s choice includes many hard-to-find items like a chapter from the now out-of-print and pricey Ruddick biography of Chet Baker discussing the formation of the Gerry Mulligan quartet.

Many thanks to Bill Crow for the following -

Steven Cerra sent me a copy of his new book, “Gerry Mulligan, Writings on a Jazz Original,” a fine collection of writings about Gerry, including some of mine, plus some interviews. Steven writes: “The purpose of this book is to provide the reader with a sequential and thematic account of the life and music of Gerry Mulligan (April 5, 1927-January 20,1996.) I’ve been enjoying reading it. Steven Included an anecdote from one of my books: …Gerry continued to work with his quartet: Brookmeyer, Mel Lewis and me. We appeared on Mike Wallace’s television show during the time that Wallace was in the process of building a reputation as an investigative reporter. Wallace’s TV interviews were popular partly because of his prosecutorial style. At the rehearsal, Wallace was courteous and low-key. He asked questions that had been prepared by his staff, and Gerry answered frankly about his career, his experiences with drugs and the law, and other aspects of his life. On the air, Wallace’s tone became more contentious, and instead of asking the questions he had asked at rehearsal, he said accusingly, “I understand you were involved with drugs, and did some time because of it!” This left Gerry with little more to say than “yes.” Though Wallace was using the information Gerry had given him at the rehearsal, he gave his audience the impression that he was confronting Gerry with the results of his own private investigations. Gerry managed to field Wallace’s questions with his usual aplomb, but he found himself at a loss when Wallace asked him, “I notice there are no black musicians in your group. Is this accidental, or by design?” Actually, it was the first time in years that, by happenstance, there were no black musicians in Gerry’s quartet, but any short answer to that question would have sounded lame. As Gerry considered how best to respond, Bob Brookmeyer glared at Wallace, jerked a thumb at Mel Lewis, and said frostily, “We’ve got a Jewish drummer. Will that help?” Wallace dropped the subject.

Our thanks to Pierre Giroux writing in the Jan. 2024 Ed. of The New York City Jazz Record

“Gerry Mulligan: Writings on a Jazz Original, by jazz historian Steven Cerra, delves into the life and work of the groundbreaking baritone saxophonist, composer, arranger and bandleader. The book is a reader, and its seven discrete chapters cover specific periods in the musician’s musical life, each chapter presenting selections from essays, articles, interviews and liner notes by various hands and providing insights into Mulligan’s unique style, contributions and impact on the jazz genre. Throughout a nearly 50-year career (this month marks the baritone saxophonist’s 28-year deathaversary), Mulligan was at the inflection point of many changes in jazz. In 1944, at the age of 17, he started out in big bands and his musical career from then until the early ’70s represents his most productive and innovative period. This fact is reflected in the compelling written material sourced by Cerra, which comprises the book’s first three chapters and represents over two-thirds of the book’s pages. Among the many highlights, we learn of the impact he made arranging and composing for the big bands of Gene Krupa, Claude Thornhill and Elliot Lawrence in the mid to late ’40s, his captivating contributions to the Miles Davis Nonet Birth of the Cool sessions (1949) and the formation of the groundbreaking pianoless quartet with trumpeter Chet Baker in the early ‘50s, which foreshadowed the West Coast jazz movement. For the balance of the ’50s all the way into the early ’70s, Mulligan burnished his reputation with various iterations of the quartet, which included trombonist Bob Brookmeyer and trumpeter Art Farmer. He also led an influential sextet that included Brookmeyer, saxophonist Zoot Sims and trumpeter Jon Eardley, led his own twelve-piece Concert Jazz Band from 1960-64 and joined Dave Brubeck’s group from 1968-72. This is not meant to be an exhaustive recounting of Mulligan’s activities but rather to demonstrate the richness of his endeavors. Readers will additionally gain valuable insights into Mulligan’s musical influences, collaborations and partnerships, which affected the evolution of his distinctive sound. Contributors to the book include George T. Simon, Ira Gitler, Michael Cuscuna, Jack Gordon, Nat Hentoff and Leonard Feather, among others. Mulligan died on January 20, 1996, at what would be considered a still youthful 68. Cerra has provided a comprehensive and insightful exploration of his contribution to jazz, offering a profound exploration of Gerry Mulligan’s musical legacy as well as his enduring impact.”

Our Thanks to Gordon Jack.

Here’s another unabashed plug, this time by Gordon Jack, who is a frequent contributor to JazzJournal where this review is currently appearing. What is omitted from his summary for ethical reasons is the fact that Gordon Jack has contributed a number of his fine essays on Gerry to the Mulligan Reader. The book is available as both an eBook and a paperback exclusively on Amazon.com. With the holidays coming up, why not consider purchasing a copy for the Jazz fan in your family? Gerry Mulligan: Writings On A Jazz Original by Gordon Jack “Steven Cerra studied drums with Victor Feldman and Larry Bunker before going on the road with Bobby Troup, Anita O’Day and Juliet Prowse during the sixties. He eventually left the music scene in 1970 to pursue work in other fields. His interest in Gerry Mulligan began when he first heard the Mulligan sextet’s famous 1954 San Diego concert which featured Jon Eardley, Bob Brookmeyer, Zoot Sims, Red Mitchell and Larry Bunker. That album began a life-long interest in Mulligan’s music. This is the third book published this year devoted to one of the most innovative performers of the post-war jazz scene. The Gerry Mulligan 1950s Quartets by Alyn Shipton is a forensically detailed look at one of one of the genre’s most unique small groups. Being Gerry Mulligan: My Life In Music comes from a collection of audio tapes he left behind which have been lovingly reconstructed as an autobiography by Ken Poston. Back in 1986 Raymond Horricks wrote a brief appreciation which he expanded in 2003 to include a discography of commercial and bootleg material (Gerry Mulligan’s Ark). Jerome Klinkowitz’s 1991 Listen: Gerry Mulligan is a useful reference but Jeru’s Journey by Sanford Josephson published in 2015 is a disappointing attempt at a biography revealing little that is new. Just like the Miles Davis Reader and the Duke Ellington Reader, Writings On A Jazz Original offers something a little different. The fifty-two articles, interviews and liner-notes by major jazz writers here reveal a fascinating anthology of his activities over the years: George T. Simon (Insert notes to Elliot Lawrence Plays Gerry Mulligan), Peter Welding (Insert Notes to Birth of the Cool), Peter Welding (Insert Notes to The Complete Pacific Jazz and Capitol Recordings of the Gerry Mulligan Quartet and Tentette with Chet Baker), Steven Cerra (Gerry Mulligan and Stan Kenton), Alun Morgan (Insert Notes to The Fabulous Gerry Mulligan Sextet), Nat Hentoff (Gerry Mulligan-The White Mainstreamer), Leonard Feather (Before and After), Bill Crow (From Birdland to Broadway), Bill Kirchner (Booklet Notes to The Complete Verve Gerry Mulligan Concert Band Sessions), Michael Cuscuna (Booklet Notes to The Age of Steam), Gene Lees (Meet Me at Jim & Andy’s), Ira Gitler (Swing to Bop) and Mathew Ruddick (The Life And Times of Chet Baker). There are three Downbeat Blindfold Tests that Mulligan undertook including one with Harry Carney. Cerra also includes interviews with Gerry’s two wives Arlyne Brown Mulligan and Franca Rota Mulligan. Writings On A Jazz Original is a most welcome addition to the extensive literature already devoted to one of the giants of the music. When the definitive Gerry Mulligan biography is finally written, Steven Cerra’s book will be an essential source. Gerry Mulligan: Writings On A Jazz Original By Steven A Cerra. Self Published. 355 pp. Gordon Jack

My thanks to Michael Steinman at Jazz Lives

“GERRY MULLIGAN: WRITINGS ON A JAZZ ORIGINAL,” by STEVEN A. CERRA (Amazon, 2023) www.jazzlives.wordpress.com Posted on November 9, 2023 | 4 comments “Forgive the culinary metaphor, but some books are snacks, some are satisfying dinners. Steve Cerra's new book on Gerry Mulligan is a delightfully overwhelming banquet. When I first received a copy, I found it engrossing but I also thought, "I might need a few weeks to do this book justice." So this admiring review comes with the caveat that I, the admiring reviewer, have read here and there in the book. But I think it is such a valuable compilation that it should get heralded right now. To me, Mulligan is in the odd position of being simultaneously celebrated and viewed at a curious distance. He had a nearly fifty-year career as a jazz luminary, a deep influence as a singular player of a sometimes-underestimated instrument, the baritone saxophone. For some, he would have been slightly behind Ellington's majestic Harry Carney; for others, he would have outstripped Carney as an innovator and creative thinker. Mulligan appeared to "move with the times," but in reality he stubbornly chose to be himself, no matter what the context: his piano-less quartet, his Concert Jazz Band, the "Birth of the Cool" group; his later recordings that each seem to be jubilant explorations of new landscapes. To understand him, one has only to make a quick mental list of the people he played with and chose to work with: Bill Crow, Miles Davis, Brew Moore, Charlie Parker, Bob Brookmeyer, Chet Baker, Dave Brubeck, Jimmie Rowles, Dizzy Gillespie, Duke Ellington, Jack Teagarden, Tony Fruscella, Bill Charlap, Zoot Sims, Johnny Hodges, Teddy Wilson, Thelonious Monk, Art Farmer, Ben Webster, Phil Woods, Elliot Lawrence, Joe Sullivan, Gene Krupa, Annie Ross, Billie Holiday, Clark Terry, Stan Getz, Paul Desmond, Lee Konitz, Chubby Jackson, Charles Mingus, Mel Torme, Shorty Rogers, Zoot Sims, Lionel Hampton, Cleo Laine . . . and that is not including his arrangements for Lawrence, Krupa, Claude Thornhill, Stan Kenton, and his own groups. He has been categorized as part of the "cool jazz" or "West Coast jazz" school, but those schools are merely names journalists give to groups of musicians when they need a quick and often inaccurate classifier. Cerra's book is not the only one on Mulligan: Sanford Josephson's biography, JERU'S JOURNEY: THE LIFE AND MUSIC OF GERRY MULLIGAN, appeared in 2015, and two oral histories appeared earlier. But Cerra's book, an appealing collection, does not duplicate the previous works. It is a Reader, or a collection of articles, interviews, and liner notes to recordings. As such, it is not only a shifting multi-layered portrait of Mulligan, person and artist, it is also a cross-section of journalistic and essayistic jazz history. Consider, if you will, a book of reviews of Ulysses: a reader would learn not only about the subject, Joyce's work, but how it was regarded, decade after decade. Thus, Cerra's large-format book (with illustrations) is fifty-plus perspectives on the artist, his groups, his colleagues, and his reputation as the times shift. Cerra himself doesn't demand center stage, but his writing is clear and unfussy, a pleasure. Let us assume, even if it's heresy, that the imagined reader isn't terribly fascinated by Jeru in all his many selves. The book is still an arresting collection of stories (I was reading it last night, or this morning, at 2 AM). I didn't know that George Duvivier had been invited by Duke to join the band at the same time Duke found Jimmie Blanton, and why Duvivier said no; I hadn't known how Al Cohn had lost one eye; his tumultuous relationship with Chet Baker, his working relationships with Miles Davis, Gil Evans, and much more. For those who thrive on darkness, there's heroin, cancer, imprisonment, broken hearts as well. I won't describe the book more, because I don't want to take away the serendipitous joys of finding a new story, a new insight, musicians seen from multiple perspectives. At first, I was disconcerted that the book lacked an index (possibly a financial decision) but rambling through its pages, I have welcomed the opportunity to find surprises without arrows pointing to them. One of the most charming aspects of Mulligan is that he understood, and loved, the whole history of the music. Had there been a jazz festival with Leon Roppolo and Ornette Coleman on sequential stages, Gerry would have sat in with both of them and made everyone feel at home with his presence. And, in turn, he was loved and respected by Coleman Hawkins and Rex Stewart, among other "elders." This leads me to the filmed evidence (December 1957) of the magic moment when I first saw and heard him live. You'll recognize the sublimely glittering crew, and please marvel once again at how Jeru not only gets comfortable but lifts the music: After Jimmy Rushing walks to one side, there's the Basie rhythm section (without Walter Page, who was ill): Basie, piano; Eddie Jones, double bass; Freddie Green, guitar; Jo Jones, drums. Then Ben Webster, tenor saxophone; Bennie Morton, trombone; Joe Wilder, trumpet -- then Gerry, soaring, lyrical and down-to-earth; Vic Dickenson, trombone; Roy Eldridge, trumpet; Emmett Berry, trumpet; Coleman Hawkins, tenor saxophone; Dickie Wells, trombone; Joe Newman, trumpet; Basie and the ensemble, cheered on by Billie Holiday. Of course there are thousands of hours of Gerry on record and film to savor. But this book will add to the enjoyment, and I salute its diligent author-editor. It's available as a large-format paperback or ebook here, and Cerra says in his acknowledgments that after publishing costs have been met, half the proceeds will go to the Gerry Mulligan Foundation "to support school music programs and acquiring instruments for students," commendable indeed. Make room on your shelves.”

With gratitude to Gary Giddins

Some Early Reviews

WELL DONE STEVE! Just received your handsome Reader. Although I'm familiar with it from your emails over the years, I intend to start re-reading now it's in book form. It's been a long struggle, but your book provides essential information to the ongoing Mulligan research which hopefully will one day result in a full-blown biography. Steve WONDERFUL. I have only read the introduction thus far, but I wanted to tell you, that I can see that this book is just what I was expecting, and I believe that it will fill a huge void in understanding - and appreciating - Gerry Mulligan. Whilst I have enjoyed (to a degree) all the books previously published about Gerry, I do not believe that any of them, bar perhaps Alyn Shipton's recent publication, have come anywhere near addressing Mulligan's real significance in jazz history. I think you have achieved something special in pulling this together. I thank you. I hope you make a fortune - both for the Foundation and for yourself. (I have already persuaded a good friend to purchase this book and will try with others I know). Congratulations, and above all thanks. I now look forward to months of careful reading (probably with Mulligan playing in the background....) Hi Steve, Well, I've read enough of your book to allow me to think that I can comment intelligently on it. First off, it's great! I love your idea of telling the story by way of excerpts from the writing of various authors. I do think that it gives a more well-rounded picture of Jeru than any single author could offer.I was familiar with many of the pieces, of course, but reading them again--the excerpts surrounded by other essays/articles that focus on the same period--helps me, at least, get a firmer idea of the author's point of view on that subject. And there were/are various excerpts in your book that I hadn't seen before. I was especially happy to find the piece by Matthew Ruddick from his book on Chet Baker. I think it's the best summation of the beginnings & contributions of the original Quartet that I've ever read. I'll have to get Ruddick's book. I do love the book and appreciate the time and effort that you've put into it. It's a worthy addition to the jazz canon, and I'd unhesitatingly recommend it to anyone. And, print format or not, I'm really enjoying reading it.