Part 1 - Louie Bellson [1924-2009] - The Smithsonian Jazz Oral History Program NEA Jazz Master Interviews

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As you read the first installment of the multi-part interview with one of the greatest drummers in the pantheon of Jazz drummers and who was one of the sweetest denizens to ever inhabit the Jazz World, please keep in mind that he was 81 years old at the time it was undertaken.

The details from such a long and illustrious career may have a tendency to cloud over with the passage of time, hence the occasional promptings and chronological clarifications by Anthony Brown who excels in his role as a sensitive interviewer. 

Something else to marvel over in Louie’s recollections of the early years of his career was how accessible music was for those who wish to learn it and to play it. Schools, music stores, music teachers, home learning and myriad venues to perform came in all shapes and sizes for those who wanted to indulge in music, an art form that Aristotle asserted could imitate the emotions and character of humans, such as gentleness, happiness, anger, sadness and braveness.

The Smithsonian Jazz Oral History Program NEA Jazz Master interviews are provided by the National Endowment for the Arts.

LOUIE BELLSON NEA Jazz Master (1994) 

Interviewee: Louie Bellson (July 6, 1924 – February 14, 2009) 

Interviewer: Anthony Brown with recording engineer Ken Kimery 

Date: October 20-21, 2005 Repository: Archives Center, National Museum of American History, Smithsonian Institution Description: Transcript, pp. 116 Transcriber’s note: inaudible words are marked “[?]”. Brown: 

Today is October 20th, 2005. 

We are in the home of musician-percussionist-humanitarian extraordinaire Louie Bellson at his home …… in San Jose, California. We are in his lovely home with his lovely wife, Francine, and we are conducting the official Smithsonian Institution Jazz Oral History interview with the incomparable maestro Louie Bellson. 

Louie, this oral history is an attempt to capture your life in music, for you to tell the story of your life in your own words. We’d like to start at the very beginning [and] have you talk about your early childhood, your family, and then progress through your career. 

The reason why we are particularly interested in your interview is because of the breadth of your accomplishments not only as a percussionist virtuoso, but also because of your involvement as an arranger, as a composer, as an educator, and as a humanitarian. These are some of the topics we hope to be able to bring to life during the discussion of your life in music. So, Louie Bellson, if you could start by giving us your full – your very full name – your original name from birth. I know that there are several discrepancies, and it’s probably very long, but if you could do that and give us the exact date of your birth and location. 

Bellson: It was in the magazines for years. Leonard Feather had it 26 of July, but it’s really July 6th. I was born Luigi Paulino Alfredo Francesco Antonio Balassoni. With that I could [?] the cello and play it. But that’s my full name. The reason it was changed, because Dad had a music store at home. Nobody could really think of all those names, and they misspelled Balassoni. So that’s why it became Louis Bellson or Louie Bellson. 

Brown: What year were you born? 

Bellson: 1924. 

Brown: 

What city or town? Bellson: Rock Falls, Illinois. Rock Falls, Illinois, is about 90 miles from Chicago. I was 13 1/2 pounds when I was born. Like Francine says, that’s where I got the double bass drums. 13 1/2 pounds. That’s a big baby. That’s a giant of a baby. My dad was big. My mother was small. So I got the smallness from my mom, and the bigness in my hands and feet from my dad. 

Brown: Can you tell us about your childhood? Do you remember the address of the home where you were born or where you lived first, originally lived? 

Bellson: Yes. It’s amazing. They located the house where I was born. It’s 708 Eighth Street, Rock Falls, Illinois. It’s 706. 

Brown: Francine is allowing us to correct that. 

Bellson: 706. That’s my birthday. 706 is my birthday. 

Brown: Okay. 706. 

Bellson: They located the house, and three years ago we started a festival there, where I play with a big band and do a seminar, have a drum contest. This is the fourth year coming up. Rock Falls, Illinois. They have a marker in the front stating that I was born July 6th, 1924. 

Brown: So that’s where you lived as a child? That’s where you grew up? At that house? 

Bellson: Only when I was a real small child. I’d say by the time I was 11 or 12 years old, I had moved to Peoria, Illinois, and then to Moline, Illinois, where I really grew up. Went to high school there, junior high school. That’s where I started playing. 

Brown: Let’s back up. Could you tell us your parents’ full names?

Bellson: My dad is Louis, Sr. My mother’s name was Carmen. That’s the American name, Carmen. 

Brown: Do you remember their Italian names? 

Bellson: Yes. My dad was Louis Balassoni. My mother was Carmen Bartolucci. 

Brown: Do you know where they were from in Italy? Bellson: My father was born in Naples. My mother was born in Milano. So I’m half Milanese and half Napolitan. 

Brown: Are they both first generation or second generation in America? 

Bellson: Second, I think? 

Brown: So they were born in America? 

Bellson: Yeah. No, they’re first generation, born in Italy. They came over. Our family – we had eight children, four girls and four boys. The girls came first. Four of the girls were my mother’s sister’s. Have I got that right? 

Brown: Francine, do you want to make an editorial comment here? 

Bellson: Dad was married to my mother’s sister. 

Brown: Why don’t you stop. Let’s get some clarity. [recording interrupted] Louie, if you could tell us about your siblings. Tell us about your early family recollections. Bellson: There were eight children altogether. All the girls came first, and then the boys came second. But the first three girls were from my dad’s first marriage to his wife who came from Italy with him. Those three girls – his wife passed away, so my dad sent to Italy for the sister. When the sister came to America, they had five children: one girl and four boys. So actually Josephine, Dee Dee, and Edie are my half-sisters. Mary is my full sister. And of course the four boys. 

Brown: Do you remember the names of your brothers? 

Bellson: Yes. The oldest brother was Frank. He passed away. The oldest girl was Edie. She passed away. The rest of us are still around. That’s Tony. He’s younger than me. Henry is the baby of the boys. Josephine, Dee Dee, and Mary are the girls left. 

Brown: You were born in one place in Illinois. Then you moved to Peoria. Then you moved to Moline. Do you have any recollections of Peoria? 

Bellson: Yes. My dad worked for Bierly Brothers’ music store. He had not gotten his own music store yet. He just taught there. We were there for about five years. Then we moved to Rock Island and then Moline. Finally my dad got his own music store. When I was – I’m backing up – when I was three years old, that’s when my dad took me to a parade. When that drum section passed me by, I said, “That’s what I want to play.” My dad said my little finger pointed right at the drums. I was so definite that he started me at three-and-a-half years old. 

Brown: Your father was a professional musician? 

Bellson: He played all instruments and taught all instruments. 

Brown: He came from Italy as a musician? 

Bellson: Right. 

Brown: Do you know anything about his training in Italy, how he became a musician? 

Bellson: He knew every aria from every opera. He studied – I was a legit performer myself. When they call me a jazz drummer, I smile, because I was brought up with the opera – all the opera [?], and classical music. Of course, Dad having a music store, I got all the records – the jazz records that came in from Louis Armstrong, Benny Goodman, Duke Ellington, Count Basie, Lionel Hampton, Cab Calloway. I knew all those records when I was a kid. 

Brown: Francine said earlier that you only spoke Italian when you were a bambino. So Italian was spoken in the house? 

Bellson: Yeah, we spoke Italian all the time, because my parents didn’t understand English too much, so we spoke Italian. I spoke very fluently when I was a kid, but now I forgot it all, because after being on the road 50 years – or 70 years now – if I don’t talk to anybody, you lose it. But I still know all the cuss words. 

Brown: You remember the important things. Can you talk about any recollections of your childhood, about the neighborhood? Was it an Italian neighborhood and therefore it was easy to continue to speak Italian? Did you have trouble going to school when you went to school and didn’t speak much English? How was it? What recollections do you have of your neighborhood and schooling? 

Bellson: Rock Falls, they had a large Italian settlement there. In fact my dad used to go there just to give lessons. Most of the people were poor. They paid him off by giving him home-grown tomatoes, home-grown wine – grapes. That’s what happened. My recollection of Peoria – we didn’t stay there too long. My dad opened a restaurant. [?] ate up all of our profits, so he decided to give it up. That didn’t last long at all. From Peoria we moved to Rock Island for a few years. Then we finally got to Moline. Dad had his own music store. He taught everything there: string instruments, brass instruments, woodwinds, percussion. We had all the teachers there. It was a class A music store. 

Brown: Did you start taking lessons in your dad’s music stores, or did you study with a private teacher elsewhere? 

Bellson: I studied with my father first. I spent about a year with him. Then he said, “I can’t teach you anything more.” So I went to Chicago to study with Roy Knapp. Remember Roy Knapp? He taught Gene Krupa. Buddy [Rich] took a few lessons with him too. When I went to study with Roy, he had me play something on the drum set. He said, “I can’t teach you anything. You know it all already.” I said, “No, no, no.” So he started me on xylophone, marimba, and vibes. He started me on harmony and theory. I branched off after Dad started me and I took over with Roy Knapp. By the time I was 13, 14, 15 years old, I was teaching in my dad’s music store. That’s where all these books came from. Most of my students were – I was 13. My students were 40 years old, 50 years old. 

Brown: Let’s back up. You studied with your dad for a year. You pointed at the drummer in the parade and said you wanted to play drums. So your father started teaching you shortly thereafter? 

Bellson: Yeah. 

Brown: Started giving you lessons? Snare drum lessons, I imagine? Or full kit? Bass drum? Anything else other than . . .? 

Bellson: Snare drum first. A parade drum too, at that, because he believed in going up through the ranks. That doesn't spoil me, by giving me a brand new set of drums. He could have got me a set for nothing. He said, “No. You can work for it.” So I had a parade with gut snares in the bottom. You know what that means. Mistakes come out loud and clear. When I studied with Roy – when I played for Roy, Roy said, “I can’t teach you anything on the drums. I’m going to get you on the mallets and tympani.” 

Brown: How old were you when you went to study with Roy? 

Bellson: I was about 15, 16 years old. I’d take a train, go to Chicago. What I would do is take my lesson from Roy, stay over a couple of days, and of course catch Gene at the Panther Room at the Hotel Sherman, or go to the theater and see Cab Calloway, go back and see a little Cozy Cole, and catch all the – Jo Jones with Basie’s band. Never missed that. But my early training in Moline – I was very fortunate that there was a nightclub there called the Rendezvous nightclub. The four players there were all from Kansas City. The leader was Specks [Speckled] Red. He came from Des Moines, Iowa. But Argo Percy Walker was from Kansas City – Jo Jones style. Steiner was the saxophone player. Bates was the bass player. Every Tuesday night they let me play the whole night with that quartet. That’s where I learned what swing was all about. They taught me how to play for soloists, how to back up a band – big band, small band. Then with my dad, I played every night in the music store. He had an accordion band. I played drums with the accordion band. He had woodwinds on Wednesday night. Thursday night was a brass section. Friday night was a full band. I was there playing drums all the time. That was valuable training. That helped me so much, because by the time I got to be 18, 19 years old, I could play with any band. 

Brown: What was your favorite type of music that you liked to listen to? 

Bellson: All kinds of music, because I was geared to that in the music store. Somebody would come in and say, “I want something by Stravinsky.” I’d get the book out, get the records out. That’s how I learned classical music. 

Brown: Did you learn any other instruments, other than percussion instruments? 

Bellson: My dad directed me to the piano, not as a piano player, but to learn theory, harmony, and rhythm. As I started doing that, I got involved in writing for ensembles – for string quartets and eventually with a big band. So today, when I bring in a new chart . . . [recording interrupted] I just finished a brand new chart for a big band. I can rehearse it myself. I don’t have to ask somebody to rehearse it for me. I can pick out the bad notes. I look at my score. The title of it is Opus No. 6. It’s for the band at Musician’s Warehouse, where I play with them twice a month. When I’m down in L.A., I have my own band. I play with them twice a month. That keeps my chops up, because you have to play. I have to play all the time. Otherwise you lose it. We all know that. 

Brown: We are going to talk a lot about your arranging, but perhaps now’s the time to start about how you began to become interested in being an arranger. Here you are a percussionist. Your father is a musician, owns a music store. You’re surrounded by music. About your household – obviously you’re a musician, and your father’s a musician. Were your siblings as well? Did they pursue music? 

Bellson: Yes. There are two other drummers in the family: Tony and Hank. But we all started on string instruments: mandolin, guitar, guitar[?] – the big bass guitars. That didn’t stay long. All three of us got involved with drums. It’s a natural thing. 

Brown: What was the first string instrument you played? 

Bellson: Mandolin. Then guitar. That was good, because with playing the piano, actually that gave me the full spectrum. Guitar, full chords. Piano, full chords. So that’s when I learned how to write. 

Brown: Did you start writing your own compositions? 

Bellson: Yes. 

Brown: At what age do you remember writing your first composition? 

Bellson: About 14. 

Brown: Do you remember what kind of tune it was, or what it was? Was it a string quartet, or was it a pop tune? 

Bellson: The first arrangement I wrote was a thing called Little Sireco [spelling?]. I wrote it for big band. When I think about that – that arrangement was kind of lousy, but I had to go through that phase. I had a chance to listen to all those bands. That’s what really gave me the incentive. Then working with Specks Red on Tuesday nights, that taught me how to swing, how to play music. 

Brown: When you say Specks Red, Specks Red’s band, was it a black band? white band? mixed band? 

Bellson: Black band, yeah. 

Brown: Black band. There was no trouble with you playing with the black band? 

Bellson: No. In fact, [Harry] Sweets [Edison] used to call me Dusty Foot. He said, “You’re not Italian. You’re a Dusty Foot.” [? ?] “You’re Arapahoe.” Okay. Sweets was a real character, but I learned an awful lot from him. Brown: How old were you when you met him? 

Bellson: I was about – I was in Benny Goodman’s band. I went to catch Basie’s band. He was with Basie’s band. He heard me play. He said, “You and I are going to be playing lots of stuff together in the near future.” Sure enough, it happened that way. 

Brown: We’re getting a little ahead of ourselves if you’re already talking about being with the Goodman band, so let’s back up. You’re still in high school. You’re studying. You’ve been studying with Roy Knapp. How long did you study with Roy? 

Bellson: With Roy Knapp? I studied with him for about three years. I gained a lot of knowledge, and it gave me a chance to go to Chicago, take my lesson from him, then stay over a day or two, and like I said before, go to catch Cab Calloway, Gene Krupa, Tommy Dorsey, Duke, Basie. I caught all of them. 

Brown: The biography in The New Grove Dictionary of Jazz lists that you learned tap dancing, or were a tap-dancer with a barrelhouse pianist, Speckled Red. You said that you played with him. Did you also – is that an accurate account? Were you also a tap dancer? 

Bellson: All the drummers during that era – Jo Jones, for example, Buddy Rich – Steve Gadd was a Mouseketeer. They all tap-danced. They told jokes. Because when you played the theaters, you did everything. You were m.c. You had a dance routine. You had a dance routine called a b.s. chorus. It was nothing but a series of taps. That’s how Baby Lawrence, Teddy Hale, Bunny Briggs – that’s where all those guys came up, from the tap-dance era. My sister Mary – full sister – taught me how to tap-dance. She taught me the time-step first of all, and then the shim-sham-shimmy. That’s how that started. 

Brown: How old were you when she was teaching you this?

Bellson: 13 or 14. I did pretty good. That’s why two bass drums came in handy, because this left foot was strong. 

Brown: We’re going to talk about that as well. Do you remember your very first professional performance? 

Bellson: Yeah. It was in Rock Island, Illinois. The gig was a piano player, a trumpet player, and drums. That’s all. No bass. What an odd combination. But they were all good players. So I had to supply what the piano player and bass player would play, as well as doing what I did on my drum set. The trumpet player was excellent. He doubled on flugelhorn. The piano player was very good. Did I say piano? We didn’t have bass. We had piano, trumpet, and drums. I had to be escorted into the place, because they sold liquor there. I had an older guy help me set up my drums and stay with me to make sure I didn’t go to the bar. That was my first gig. 

Brown: How old were you? 

Bellson: How old was I? About 14. That gig paid $3. I played all night for $3, and I had fun. I was playing music. That trio, we played excerpts from Duke’s band, Basie’s band, Lionel Hampton. We played Flying Home. We played good music. No bad music. 

Brown: So before you started studying with Roy, you were already an accomplished – or at least being paid professionally as a musician. Who were some of the drummers that you were listening to? Were there any ones that you could identify and say, oh yeah, he influenced me – he was a strong influence in my development? 

Bellson: A lot of them, because, as I said before, I heard them on records. The first record I played when I was a kid, that had a drum solo on it, was Lionel Hampton, Jack the Bellboy. He was playing drums, not vibes. He was one hell of a drummer, too. Lionel was a living legend. That’s the first record I heard. Then of course along came Gene [Krupa], and I got to know him. He’s one of the first guys that brought drums to the foreground, where you couldn’t say, “We’ve got 17 guys and a drummer in the band.” I used to say, “What do you mean, 17 guys and a drummer? We’re included in that. We’re 18.” They’d say, “You guys are noisemakers.” I said, “No, no, no, no. We’re soundmakers, not noisemakers. We’re a very important part of the band.” Later on we proved it. Buddy [Rich] and I were almost the same age. He had me by about five years. He was about five years older than me. We pal’d around. We were pals for over 50 years. That was one hell of a drummer too. But this guy up here, Jo Jones, and Big Sid Catlett, were my two teachers, along with Argo Percy Walker at the Rendezvous. They taught me how to play brushes, how to play the hi-hat, how to listen, develop a style, and listen to the soloist. When you listen to a soloist, you become a background, not a soloist. Then I started listening to Dizzy Gillespie and Charlie Parker. That came later. But when I first heard those guys play, I didn’t understand it at first, but I knew something special was happening. When I went the second time, I said, aha. I see what they’re doing. The third and fourth times, I became a big fan. 

Brown: You mention Diz and Bird, but you don’t mention the drummers they were playing with. Was it the overall music that got you, and not necessarily the drumming? 

Bellson: Both. Overall music and the drumming too, because Kenny – you know who I’m talking about. 

Brown: Kenny Clarke. Klook. 

Bellson: Kenny Clarke – Klook – was the first guy I heard that played what you call bebop drums. He didn’t need a left hand or right foot. It was all here in the right hand. When the syncopation came in with the bass drum, he had it all in the right place. He didn’t have to go boom-boom-boom-boom-boom like we had to do in the swing bands, because the bass player played that. Ray Brown gives you four beats. You didn’t need anything more after that. 

Brown: Let’s go back and talk about your influences from the Kansas City drummers, because Kansas City – obviously you always talk about Papa Jo Jones, but there are many people who brought that Kansas City style as well. You mentioned one of those gentlemen earlier. Were you able to distinguish different drumming styles by this time in your career or development? 

Bellson: Oh yeah. 

Brown: Was there something particular about the Kansas City style of drumming? 

Bellson: It had a fluid sound to it. Jo Jones reminded me of a fan dancer. He was all liquid, but yet the intensity was there in his sound. The sound of his drums was like a perfect choir – soprano, alto, tenor, and bass. He made it sound that way. From Jo Jones, that’s where Max Roach came from, out of Jo Jones. Jo Jones was like Lester Young. Lester Young started that fluid saxophone. That’s where Stan Getz got it. It wasn’t like Coleman Hawkins or Ben Webster. They were more of another style. But Pres [Lester Young ] had a different style that came out of that Basie band. That’s what made Jo so different, a fluid sound, yet with intensity. It made you listen. 

Brown: That famous nationwide drum contest that was sponsored by Gene Krupa – talk about that experience. 

Bellson: I wasn’t too interested in joining that contest. I had a funny feeling about contests, because I figured it’s based on your performance at that time. You could have done a lot of things prior to that, but faltered in that three or four minutes as a contestant. So I wasn’t interested in joining it. The guy at [?] Drum Company said, “Louie, you’ve got to join this.” My dad encouraged me, and I started in. That was local, regional, semifinals, and finals. The finals were to be held in New York with Gene Krupa’s band at the Paramount Theater. But that didn’t happen. It was Gene, but it was at Wurlitzer’s music store, because Gene was appearing at the Paramount, and people paid to come in to hear him play. They didn’t want to hear a bunch of high-school kids playing drums. So we had it at Wurlitzer for the finale. The local thing was easy, because there weren’t too many drummers around then. The regional one was the toughest one. All the Chicago drummers – young drummers from Chicago – I mean, they really played well. When they called my name as the winner, I was surprised, because I heard a hundred drummers out of Chicago that – I thought they cut me, or they played as well as I did, anyway. But that contest was difficult, because at first we thought we were going to play with Gene Krupa’s band. That’s wonderful. But instead we had to play along with the record Drum Boogie. Remember that? [Bellson sings the theme.] To play along with the record, you’ve got to be careful. I knew that Gene was going to count on judging us to make sure that we played soft enough to don’t lose that rhythm, because there was a drum solo in there too. So I played real soft. I didn’t miss a beat. I got a lot of coverage on that. Whereas some of the other drummers started off – you didn’t hear the record. All you heard was them, and they were playing long before the record was over with. It was an interesting – I gained a lot of publicity from that. Down Beat gave me a lot of coverage. Metronome magazine in those days gave me a lot of coverage. That gave me a lot of publicity, so the name was starting to bounce around. But it really started when – actually, that contest – my first band that I played with was Ted FioRito. 

Brown: Say it again. Ted what? 

Bellson: Ted FioRito: F-i-o-capital R-i-t-o. He wrote I Never Knew. He was a society bandleader, but a good one. When he came to Davenport, Iowa, all the kids said, “Let Lou play.” So I sat in and played. He offered me a job right there. I still had three months of high school to do. I told Ted – I said, “I’ve got three months of high school. Let me do that first, and if you’re still interested . . .” Ted said, “You call me, because I’m going off to California.” He kept his word. He said, “By the way, do you know any good girl singers around?” Because Betty Grable sang with him, years ago. Did you know that? I said, “Yeah. I know two girls here. One is a great singer, but she’s not dependable. You can’t count on her being on time. The other one is not as good as her, but she’s a bombshell. Her name is June Stovenour. She was a cheerleader.” June Stovenour joined Ted before I did. She later became June Haver. Does that name strike a bell? She married Fred MacMurray. She became a big movie star. 

Brown: So you launched her career. 

Bellson: Yeah. I came to California. Ted FioRito was in a place called the Florentine Gardens. The Mills Brothers were the main attraction there. You talk about learning something. Harry, [?] – all four of them, actually. Their father was still living. But they were the class act. They taught me more about music than anybody else, being available at Florentine Gardens. It was three months there at Florentine Gardens. While I was there, they had a pickpocket, a guy by the name of Dr. Giovanni. He had somebody come up, and he’d pick their pockets. He was on the bill. Ted FioRito’s band – Candy Candido was with the band. While I was there, Freddie Goodman – Benny Goodman’s brother – came in. Freddie was managing Benny at that time. Benny Goodman was at Paramount Studios doing a movie. When Freddie heard me play, he sent a note for me to come over to the table. I did. He said, “How would you like to join Benny Goodman’s band?” I said, “B-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-bb-b-b-b-b-b.” He said, “I’ll tell you what. I’m going to pick you up in a limousine. You come down to Paramount Studios and audition for Benny Goodman.” I didn’t sleep that night at all, because here Ted got me out of Moline, and he’s been nice to me. How can I just get up and leave him? But Benny Goodman – man. So he picked me up the next day in a limousine. Took me out to Paramount Studios. I heard Benny Goodman say, “Tell the kid, put a tuxedo on. I’ll see him on the set.” No audition at all. I was playing with Dave Barbour on guitar and Jimmie Rowles on piano. I forget who the bass player was. I played one number with the quartet, and Benny Goodman said, “The train leaves Thursday. I’ll see you there.” That was my audition with Benny Goodman. Isn’t that something? 

Brown: An amazing story. Did he even talk to you? Did he ever say anything to you? Bellson: No, he didn’t. All he said was, “You’ve got the job, and I’ll see you Thursday on the train.” Now the big question came: how am I going to tell Ted FioRito? Candy Candido and the rest of the band found out about it. They said, “Go to Benny. We’ll explain to Ted later on what happened.” I said, “Yeah, but I can’t do that. Let me at least tell Ted.” They said, “No. He’s a bull-headed Italian. He’s not going to go for it.” They said, “You go on ahead. We’ll fix it up.” So Ted really got mad, but later on, he apologized. He said, “Look kid. I didn’t want to stand in your way.” Benny Goodman was hot in those days. Sing, Sing, Sing and all that. So I went to New York with Benny. My first gig in New York was at the New Yorker Hotel. While we played with the band there, we had a tremendous ice show to play. The band had to play the ice show. The drum book was three inches thick. I had to play tympani cues, xylophone, and drum set. That was my meat. I could breeze through that. All the ice skaters said, “Keep him with you all the time.” But for some reason, on the show I had to play Sing, Sing, Sing, and I got a lot of applause for doing that. But while I was there – we were at the New Yorker for about two months. On the second month, Benny gave me my notice. Hymie Schertzer was playing lead alto then. He was good friends with Benny. He went up to Benny and said, “Why did you fire that kid? That kid is sensational.” Benny didn’t say anything. But I found out later that I was taking his applause away from him on Sing, Sing, Sing. When I left the band, I stopped off in Chicago and told Louis Jordan – with his Tympani Five – I told Louis Jordan about it. He said, “Why, that four-eyed bastard.” He said, “You’re going to hang out with me.” So I did. He bolstered my ego. So by the time I got home the next day, my dad was at the train station, meeting me there. I said, “What are you doing here, Dad?” He said, “Benny Goodman kept me up all night. He wants you back in the band.” “But he just fired me.” “No. He wants you back in the band.” I got back on the train, went back to New York. He never bothered me [?]. Right up until the time he died, he wanted me to play with him. 

Brown: So you went back to play with him after you got back? Your dad told you, “Benny Goodman wants you in place”? 

Bellson: Went right back with him until he decided to retire, halfway. That’s when I joined Tommy Dorsey’s band. 

Brown: So how long were you actually with Benny Goodman then? Bellson: I was with him several times. I was with him one time for a year, another time a year-and-a-half, and then a third time too, I think. Long after I’d been with Duke and everybody, I was in New York. Benny was doing stuff up at Yale – one concert. You [?] and do a series of six concerts. I did all those with him. 

Brown: Okay. But that first stint, you were with him for two months, and then you got fired for upstaging the boss, basically. 

Bellson: Yeah. I think that’s what happened. 

Brown: Is that a valuable lesson to learn?

Bellson: I couldn’t figure out why he’s mad at me. I’m getting applause for the band too. But he meant well. I guess he couldn’t figure out where all this was coming from that little body. 

Brown: Let’s go back. When you were out at the Paramount Studios and you played with the sextet, did the other guys – were they receptive to you? 

Bellson: Oh yeah, very receptive. 

Brown: The rest of the guys in the band? 

Bellson: I think it was a quartet [sic: quintet]. It was Dave Barbour on guitar, Jimmie Rowles on piano, Benny, of course, and the bass player. I can’t think of his name [Cliff Hill]. It was a quartet. You can always tell when you’re mixing it up with the other musicians. When they give you a big smile, that means you’re home free. Jimmie Rowles turned around and gave me a big smile, and Dave Barbour did a Freddie Greene on me, so I knew I was doing right. I played brushes, no sticks, on that number, but it was enough to let Benny Goodman know that he liked my time, and he liked my little solo. He dug me. 

Brown: I think – I don’t know what year this was, but it’s on the Engine Room, the four CD collection. They included the selection of you playing with – Louis Bellson, I want to go where you go. Do you remember this particular recording? I think it’s from this period. Let’s go on. You worked with Benny Goodman. This is your first big break. After you went back with him – you worked two months. Then you got fired for upstaging him. Then you went back with him. Then after you left the Goodman band, who did you go with at that point? 

Bellson: There’s another hitch there. I’ve gone with Ted FioRito, then from Ted FioRito to Benny Goodman, right? 

Brown: Right. 

Bellson: Then I went back to Ted FioRito, and then back with Benny. That was in 1942. ’42 was the first time, I think. Oh, I had a stint in the army then. 

Brown: According to this record, it says you were with Benny Goodman from September 1942 to April ’43, and then it sounds like you went to the military. Is that accurate or not? 

Bellson: April ’43. Yes, that’s right. I stayed in the army for three years. I played in Washington, D.C., at Walter Reed Hospital. I was in the band there. We played for all the amputees when they came back from the war. 

Brown: So you were inducted into the military? Which fort, or which base? 

Bellson: 304th Army Service Forces Band in Washington, D.C. – in Silver Springs, Maryland. That’s where I was for three years. I played all the time. 

Brown: You were drafted. 

Bellson: Yeah. I was very lucky to be able to play. I played all the mallet instruments. They had two or three other drummers – a good band. Johnny Hartman was a singer in that band. We all know who Johnny Hartman was. 

Brown: Lush Life. 

Bellson: A sweetheart, a great singer. In those days we used to go to all the – Georgia Hall, Connecticut Hall, and play with our quintet. Johnny Hartman was our singer. That was quite an experience. 

Brown: You’re talking about being in the military in the mid-’40s. The military wasn’t integrated until 1948, but it sounds like, at least in the Special Services, in the bands, that you had mixed bands. Is that correct? 

Bellson: Yeah. Did I get that right? Let’s see. I joined Ted FioRito, then went with Benny Goodman from Ted FioRito, and then I joined the army after that, I think, and stayed in the army for three years, then came back with Ted FioRito for about six months, and back with Benny Goodman for a year, and then with Benny – after Benny, I joined Tommy Dorsey, in 1947. Brown: How did you get that gig? 

Bellson: How did I get that gig? Oh yeah. I wanted to study with a guy named Buddy Baker, a composition teacher who was a great arranger for Disney Studios. He made an album with Herb Jeffries, and I liked the way he wrote for strings. Since Benny was retiring, I said, “I want to go out and study with Buddy Baker.” Buddy Baker knew Tommy Dorsey very well, and also the baritone saxophone player was good friends with Buddy Baker. He was the baritone saxophone player with Tommy Dorsey’s band. So word got around. Buddy [Rich] had left the band. He went into the Marines. They heard about me, so I got the call to come in and audition for Tommy Dorsey. At that time, Ted FioRito was the only guy that let me use the two-bass-drum idea. Benny Goodman wouldn’t let me use it. He said, “I don’t want to pay for two guys. One bass drum is enough.” So I did. I did. But Tommy Dorsey loved the two-bass-drum idea. He saw me set up my drums. He was awed by that. Two bass drums, 20 x 20 [inches] long – tubular; 26 x 18 middle tom-tom; and also 9 x 13, 7 x 11 on each side; 16 x 16 floor tom; 18 x 16 floor tom. When I set up that drum – when I finished setting it up – is it all right to use a cuss word? – Tommy Dorsey looked at me and he said, “All you need is a brush up your ass for a [?] and you’ve got a [?].” That’s his exact words. 

Brown: Say it again. 

Bellson: But he loved drums, having Buddy and Gene in the band for years, Davey Tough, Big Sid Catlett. Jo Jones did some recording with him. We devised an idea. I told him I should have some kind of idea in the theaters that people – ordinary laymen – hear that sound. They don’t know I’ve got two bass drums. So I told Tommy I need to make a table to put my drum set on, and it goes around. He said, “That’s it.” So he had one made. That was a big thing at the Strand Theater. When I did my number with him, he’d press a button, and I’d go around. He didn’t stop me until my back was to the audience. Then the audience said, “Oh, he’s got two bass drums.” That opened up a new thing. Then also, later on, we had florescent drum sticks. When they turned the lights out, not only the sticks, but as I hit a tom-tom, a light would go on. So all this sound – it was really a tremendous – it was a good gimmick. It really was. It was a musical gimmick. That job with Tommy Dorsey was one of the most difficult, in that you played about three or four long drum solos during the night, and you played hard. Of course I was young then. I could do that easily. For example, working with Tommy Dorsey the first year, we played six months of one-nighters, on the bus without a day off, 500 miles a night on the bus. We played from 9:00 to 12:30 without taking a break, took a half-hour break, and played an hour overtime. He was right there with you. It was something else. But it was a good band, and he was a great trombone player. I gained a lot of knowledge working with him. 

Brown: Can you compare that experience with the Dorsey band as opposed to the Goodman band. 

Bellson: Quite different, but both great bands. To me, Benny Goodman joined ranks with Count Basie, Duke Ellington, Lionel Hampton, Cab Calloway, Jimmie Lunceford. Those were the real swing bands. Glenn Miller was a good band. Don’t get me wrong. He was the biggest moneymaker of all. But he wasn’t a swing band. We know what a swing band is. But Benny could join that rank. He was that good. That band really swung, especially when you’ve got Lionel in there, Hampton in there, and when he had Big Sid Catlett, Charlie Christian. He was the first integrated band. He had Charlie Christian on guitar. The man had some heavy tunes there. Teddy Wilson on piano. So, quite different, but equally good. Tommy Dorsey’s last year, he got intrigued with Basie’s band, especially with Ernie Wilkins’s writing. He had Ernie write about ten arrangements for him before he died. He loved that sound, that fluid sound. So he was getting there. 

Brown: Let’s go back and talk about – we are going to talk about you being a trail-blazer yourself as far as race relations in the music industry, but I want to go back and talk about – you were saying with the Tommy Dorsey band, that you were finally allowed to use your double bass drums. Let’s go back and talk about your original inspiration and idea for using double bass drums. 

Bellson: I got the idea in 1938. I was in high school. I made a drawing of the double bass-drum kit, the one that you see on this [?]. My teacher said, “What are you doing?” I said, “This is a diagram of a new drum set, a new kind of a drum set.” I explained to him that most drummers only use one bass drum. I’ve got two bass drums. He said, “Work on that.” So he passed me on that. I was interested in taking my idea to the various drum companies, but they thought I and Buck Rogers should go to the moon. “You’re crazy.” “I know I’m crazy, but that’s my idea.” That’s a Gretsch drum set, the first one that I made. From that point on – the reason that I joined the Gretsch Drum Company is that Benny Goodman had a contract with Gretsch. All I had to do was tell Benny, “No, I’m [with] Slingerland.” But he – I was afraid he’d fire me if I said I don’t use Gretsch drums, because they gave me about five or six sets of drums for nothing. So I cooled it until later on. Then I left Gretsch and went with Slingerland. 

Brown: When did you actually have your first double-bass-drum kit? You already came up with the prototype in 1938. You had already started designing it. So when did you actually have one? 

Bellson: That set was made – the first band was Ted FioRito. I had that when I was working with Ted FioRito for six months, before I joined Benny. That was an oddity. I took up half the bandstand with that kit. 

Brown: And it’s all your own design, especially with that large tom in the middle? That’s all your design? 

Bellson: I got rid of that drum eventually, because it made my leg span too great. My legs were sore by the time I finished the gig at night with that drum set. 

Brown: How did you negotiate working a bass drum and the pedal with your left foot? I mean the sock cymbal – the hi-hat cymbal. Bellson: I took the tripod off of the hi-hat and made a connection between the bell of the hi-hat and one of the rods in the bass drum, so that brought it right – this was the bass drum, and the hi-hat was right next to it, by getting rid of the tripod. 

Brown: So you had to be an engineering designer as well. 

Bellson: Yeah. In those days I was playing toe with the bass drum and heel with the hihat, or both together. 

Brown: So you had to come up with your own technique and approach. 

Bellson: Yeah. 

Brown: A lot of people point to Ray McKinley using double bass drums. It sounds like you preceded him at least as far as the idea. 

Bellson: I thought he was the first one, but later on he told me, “No. It was you. You were the first one.” He came up – he was with Will Bradley’s band. Double Drum Boogie came up with him. He had two bass drums, and he played them with mallets. I thought – I kept giving people the idea that Ray was the first one. When I finally saw him, he said, “No. You were the first one, Lou.” I said, “You’re older than I am, so I figured [it was] from you.” 

Brown: Did he actually have two pedals on it, or was he just using the bass drums and playing them with his hands. 

Bellson: That I don’t know. I’m inclined to think he was just using the mallets. Then later on, I think, when he saw me he added the pedals. 

Brown: But you were the first one that you know of to actually affix pedals to bass drums and play them. 

Bellson: Right. Yeah. 

Brown: So we can set the record straight now. 

Bellson: No, it might have been some guy living in a cave 300 years ago. I don’t know. 

Brown: Until that information comes out, right now we’ll go with what we got, which is Louie Bellson coming up with that design in 1938, from a design. You said you did it in a class. Was it shop class, art class, design class? Why were you drawing this, and why did your teacher approve it? Was it a music teacher? 

Bellson: I knew I was really ambidextrous. I started dreaming about this idea of having another drum on this side. Later on I was the first one to have two snare drums over here and then have an extension of bongo drums over here. So those ideas were coming to me. I was the first one that invented the silent drum set. I had a practice pad with rubber on the top, and then cymbals made out of rubber. That was the silent drum set. I could practice in the dressing room without bothering anybody. Then later on guys came out with a sophisticated practice set. But I couldn’t get those things – what do you call it? – invented – patent. I couldn’t get a patent on it, because I didn’t know what I was doing. I was a kid. I showed somebody the idea. They’d steal it from me. 

Brown: We’re going to talk about your relationship with Remo Belli later, so we can talk about how you were able to develop a lot of – and work with somebody who’s developing the instrument. Again, that’s one of the other things that makes Louie Bellson’s history so important, because you have all these other activities as well as being a drummer. At this point let’s take a break. [recording interrupted] This picture of this Gretsch prototypical double-bass-drum set – you mentioned that you were using 20-inch bass drums . . . 

Bellson: 20 x 20. 

Brown: 20 x 20, which is a departure from what was pretty much the norm in those days. 

Bellson: That’s right. 

Brown: What size were the bass drums being used at that time? Bellson: I was using the 26-inch bass drum. I’m using 24’s now. 

Brown: [You] like that big sound. 

Bellson: Yeah. 

Brown: But you went down to the 20. I guess that was to facilitate having two up there. 2

Bellson: Yeah. I was thinking that the tubular – long tube would give me the sound I was looking for. Yet I could put those tom-toms on top of that 20-inch bass drum and not make everything too high, because I always wanted my cymbals to be in a position so I can play rhythm, because today some drummers have – I don’t know how they do that. They play with the cymbals very high, but they still get a sound. To me, I go with Jo Jones, who said, “I like that ride cymbal right there, staring me in the face.” And I like the Chinese cymbal right over here, and an 18-inch cymbal over here, so I’ve got three ride cymbals. I remember when Buddy Rich one time on the Tonight Show – Eddie Shaughnessy was playing drums. Eddie’s a big guy – he sat in on Eddie’s drums. He said he had to jump up in the air to hit one cymbal. Eddie got a big kick out of that. 

Brown: Speaking of size and drummers, we didn’t mention Chick Webb. 

Bellson: Oh boy. He was something else. 

Brown: You got to see him? Did you see him perform? 

Bellson: I saw him once. He was amazing, not only as a drummer, but – Gene Krupa used to say that in those days, the Savoy Ballroom was open. They used to have a battle of the bands up there. They always put Benny Goodman’s band with Chick Webb’s band, because Chick had Ella Fitzgerald as singer. I saw Gene one time when he was getting ready to do that. He said, “I’m going up to play opposite Chick Webb and get a drum lesson.” He didn’t know a note if it was as big as this room. Yet you could play an arrangement for him, and he’d call you up and say, “Here’s the saxophone parts,” and he’d sing the saxophone parts. “Here’s the brass parts.” He’d sing the brass parts. 

Brown: This is Chick Webb? 

Bellson: Chick Webb. The most amazing memory. Even better than Buddy. Buddy was supposed to have a good memory, which he did have. But Chick Webb was the champ with that. He not only heard it the first time and got it, but he heard what the whole band was doing. It’s unusual. It was a gift of God. [recording interrupted].

To be continued in Part 2.