Dave Bailey [1926-2023] - The Gordon Jack Interview

 © Copyright ® Steven Cerra, copyright protected; all rights reserved

Gordon Jack is a frequent contributor to the Jazz Journal and a very generous friend in allowing JazzProfiles to re-publish his perceptive and well-researched writings on various topics about Jazz and its makers.

Gordon is the author of Fifties Jazz Talk An Oral Retrospective and he also developed the Gerry Mulligan discography in Raymond Horricks’ book Gerry Mulligan’s Ark.

One of the chapters in Gordon’s Fifties Jazz Talk An Oral Retrospective contains the following interview with long-time Gerry Mulligan drummer Dave Bailey who passed away on December 29, 2023 at the age of 97.              

© -Gordon Jack, copyright protected; all rights reserved; used with the author’s permission.

"During the fifties and sixties, when Gerry Mulligan was leading a variety of pianoless groups, he employed some of the finest and most sympathetic drummers in jazz. Larry Bunker, Chico Hamilton, Frank Isola. Gus Johnson, and Mel Lewis all made significant contributions to the success of his music. However, one drummer in particular, David Samuel Bailey, is closely associated with Mulligan during this period and worked with him from 1955 to 1965. Bailey was born in Portsmouth, Virginia, on February 22, 1926, but he was raised in Philadelphia, where his family moved when he was quite young. This interview took place in January 1997, when he replied on cassette tape to my list of written questions."

"During World War II, after flight training in Tuskegee, Alabama, I served as a Pilot Officer in North Africa and Italy. When I left the service in 1946, the G.I. Bill helped me to study drumming at the Music Center Conservatory in New York. From 1951 to 1955 I played off and on with Lou Donaldson, and we have had a professional and personal relationship ever since. Peck Morrison and Herman Foster were in the group, and sometimes Lou added Donald Byrd. In 1952 I was with Charles Mingus for a few months in a pianoless quartet with Teddy Charles and J. R. Monterose, and the following year I spent about nine months with Johnny Hodges when he had a septet, and that was a wonderful experience. Shorty Baker and Lawrence Brown were in the band, and John Coltrane was with us for a while.

I joined Gerry Mulligan in 1955. He was rehearsing a tentet at Nola's Studios on Broadway, and Peck Morrison begged me to go along with him —not to get a job, but just to listen to the music, because we had all been impressed by Gerry's writing for the Miles Davis nine-piece group [sometimes referred to as the Birth of the Cool group]. Oscar Pettiford and Osie Johnson were supposed to be there, but when they didn't show, Idrees Sulieman, who was in the band, introduced Peck to Gerry. Peck mentioned that I played drums and that is how we ended up in Gerry's sextet, which opened in Cleveland the following week. A little later, when the group became popular, Oscar and Osie both wanted the gig back! Idrees was an excellent musician, and he stayed with us for about two months, but Gerry was looking for someone with a more Chet-like approach. Idrees had a big, warm sound rather like Clifford Brown, which didn't really blend with Gerry, so he left. A little while later. Peck moved on because of the additional stress that came with a pianoless group. Gerry put a lot of pressure on bass players, which I don't think that Peck was able to deal with, and his wife probably didn't want him to travel as much as the Mulligan group was traveling.

As a matter of fact. I almost quit playing around that time, and it was Christopher Columbus (Sonny Payne's father) who talked me out of it. Gerry's sextet was booked at Basin Street East with the Clifford Brown/Max Roach group, and Gene Krupa was also on the bill. Max was playing so much drums, it was just incredible, and we were swinging and taking care of serious business with Gerry. Then Gene came onstage with those single-stroke rolls that every drummer can do, and the crowd went crazy. I don't mean any criticism of Gene, but the audience just didn't appreciate how well Max Roach was playing, and it was really disheartening to see their lack of reaction to him. I felt like giving up. On my way home, I stopped by Small's Paradise, where Chris was playing with "Wild Bill" Davis, and luckily he persuaded me to carry on.

Jon Eardley had replaced Idrees on trumpet, but he had some very serious problems that often prevented him from playing up to par, and with his horrendous drug dependency, we couldn't always be sure that he would show up for the gig. Eventually he left and went back to Florida, which is when I recommended Oliver Beaner as his replacement. He was with us for a few weeks and did the sextet's last booking at the Preview Lounge in Chicago. He was a marvelous musician who sight-read the parts, and if Gerry had carried on with that group he would have kept Oliver, because he sounded like a cross between Chet and Miles. After the sextet broke up, Gerry went back to a quartet with Bob Brookmeyer, and on the early records I played mostly brushes, which was my decision — Gerry rarely dictated what I should use. He was very liberal in that regard and would not have wanted to confine me to brushes.

Mulligan taught me something very early in the game about getting people's attention; you can either play very loudly or very softly. I remember once we had a rowdy customer sitting in front of the bandstand at Storyville. which was an intimate club in Boston. We gradually brought our volume down until the only thing you could hear was the guy talking and shouting.

Gerry then chastised him for spoiling things for the audience who had paid to hear us. He used that strategy quite a few times in clubs over the years.1 When Brookmeyer left in 1957 I stayed with Gerry, who was working with Lee Konitz at places like the Village Vanguard. Sometimes he added Mose Allison, and having a piano at that time with Mulligan was a little unusual.

In 1957 I made a lot of records with Gerry. On the "Sax Section" date with Lee Konitz, Zoot Sims, Allen Eager, and Al Cohn, he decided to use a rhythm guitar.2 He asked my opinion about the rhythm section because saxes are noted for making tempos drag a little, and as he wanted a really solid sound but without a piano, Freddie Green was the next best thing. When he did the album with Chet Baker, I think that he wanted the two of them to get back together, which is why the L.P. was called "Reunion."3 Gerry respected Chet, but he always said that he had taken the fall for him when he was incarcerated in 1953. Gerry didn't tell the authorities that the controlled substances he was accused of owning actually belonged to Chet. The album with Annie Ross, which included Chet on some numbers, was a fun date when she was in her prime.4 Despite all this recording activity. Gerry tended to work sporadically, usually about six months a year. When I was free I played with people like Ben Webster, Billie Holiday. Chris Connor. Coleman Hawkins, Billy Taylor, and Lou Donaldson — just group after group.

In 1958 Mulligan put together the quartet with Art Farmer, which he always said was the best group he ever had. I seem to remember him asking me to recommend a trumpeter who would fit, and I immediately suggested Art. He was a consummate musician who stepped right in and played the parts immaculately, and we had just one rehearsal before making our debut at Newport that year.5 Gerry always had very professional musicians who were able to interpret his ideas easily, so he didn't have many rehearsals with the quartet or sextet, although he would sometimes get together with the bass player to decide on a certain background or accompaniment. Occasionally he would bring in sketches, but we would all contribute, so it was the group's input you heard. Of course things changed later with the Concert Jazz Band, when he had a lot of rehearsals. The studio date with Art— What Is There to Say?6 — was sheer joy and excitement, and in my opinion Gerry's best album bar none. I was glad to be a part of that group because they were happy times for me and I hoped we would stay together forever, although we only lasted a year. But what a year! It didn't feel like work because we loved to play, and nobody was ever late, but all good things must come to an end — c'est la vie.

When I first joined Gerry Mulligan, his wife Arlyne was also his personal manager, and she took her job very seriously, being very protective of him, which some people mistook for bossiness. Martha Glazer had taken Erroll Garner from being an unknown pianist to the top of the world, and Arlyne perceived a similar role for herself with Gerry. She had helped him get out of jail in 1953 and stuck by him when it was necessary, and whatever her faults, she was primarily concerned about Gerry at the expense of everything else. After they broke up, I became the road manager, dealing with the agency about transportation and accommodation, etc. I also handled the money, and I was the one he would ask about hiring new players, but there were a lot of other drummers who were trying to get my job and he used to kid me about it. They would call him und say, "What are you doing with that Dave Bailey?"— and we are not talking about "Joe Blow" here; these were superstars trying to get the gig with Gerry at my expense.7

Henry Grimes joined the quartet at my recommendation, and he was a hometown guy, because we had both been raised in Philadelphia. He eventually left because he was a very sensitive person and, as I said before, there was a lot of pressure on bass players in Mulligan's groups. I think that it affected Henry, who wanted to play a certain way. but Gerry wanted something different. I don't know what happened to him. but I heard recently that he had become a minister.8

In the summer of 1959 I traveled to L.A. with Gerry and Art to record Andre Previn's music for The Subterraneans9  Although we only worked two days a week on the film, we spent several months in California, which gave me plenty of time to visit local clubs like the Lamp. It later became known as Shelly's Manne-Hole, and holding forth there was an unknown pianist called Les McCann, who had a duo with Leroy Vinnegar. I often used to take my snare and sock cymbal along to sit in, and when I got back to New York, I told Blue Note how saleable he would be if he were recorded — and the rest is history. I also mentioned him to Dick Bock at Pacific Jazz, so I take a little credit for helping to launch Les's career.

In I960 I played on the single "I'm Gonna Go Fishin'" with Gerry's CJB,10 and I loved that band, although initially we didn't work that often. Our first engagement was at Basin Street East, and Blue Mitchell and Charlie Rouse were on the gig. but they didn't stay with the band. They were excellent soloists and fit perfectly, but they already had steady work with people like Monk and Horace Silver, so they were not committed to Gerry for the major part of their employment. Playing with Gerry was my principal job, but I had to leave the CJB because I was getting a lot of record dates: jazz, blues, pop, gospel, you name it. I was making good money, so I saw no reason to be on the road with the band when I could stay in New York.

Towards the end of 1959 I became a founding member of the Jazztet with Benny Golson, Art and Addison Farmer, Curtis Fuller, and McCoy Tyner. It started as a cooperative group with everyone sharing equally, rather like the MJQ, and it worked very well. We had a wonderful time, and unlike Gerry's small groups, everything was written out. I remember when we were rehearsing "Killer Joe," I added an accent on the fourth beat which was not written. Benny immediately said, "That's a killer," and although my name isn't "Joe," he always tells people it was titled as a tribute to me. It was Curtis and I who thought of the name Jazztet, but some outside forces convinced Art and Benny that it should become the Art Farmer/Benny Golson Jazztet, which was not the original plan. I left because of the name change, but it is all water under the bridge now.

In 1961 I worked with Tubby Hayes at the Half Note, and we also recorded with Clark Terry11 I had already played with Tubby in London when I had toured there with Gerry, and I was shocked at how good he was. I think that he was the very best of the non-American jazz musicians, closely followed by Niels-Henning 0rsted Pedersen, and that is an opinion shared particularly by Afro-American players. The following year I produced 12 for Gerry Mulligan on my own record label, which was later sold to Columbia. The album featured a number of ballads which he really excelled at, and I wanted him to exploit that particular strength. Ballads allowed his compositional skills to come to the fore, because he could improvise new melodies on the spur of the moment, which is what jazz is all about. He agreed to my choosing the repertoire and the musicians — Tommy Flanagan and Ben Tucker— and he didn't charge me for playing on the date, because he wanted to do something for me as a sort of payback.

Around that time I was also working with Clark Terry and Bob Brookmeyer, and they were happy, happy times. Clark was the star of the Tonight Show band with Johnny Carson, and after recording the show, he would come down to the Half Note and play all night with us. He is a real quality person and one of the most generous musicians in the world. Very often at the end of the week he would give me the money and say, "Dave, pay the guys. I don't want any money." Bob Brookmeyer has discussed his drinking problems, but it was never an issue all the time I played with him, because he was always ready to perform. I knew he drank, but if he was out of it, it was not obvious to me.

After he broke up the CJB I went back to Gerry's quartet and worked with him until around 1965, which is when I dropped out of the jazz scene. Chris Columbus had advised me that I should stop playing when music became work, and that is what it had become. I had other interests, and the flying bug had hit me again. During the years I had been with Gerry. I regained the flying licenses I had given up when I left the Air Force in 1946.I started flying professionally for F. Lee Bailey, the famous attorney, as his pilot for about five years, and as you know, he had some very high-profile clients over the years, like Patty Hearst and O. J. Simpson.

Looking back on my time with Gerry Mulligan, I would say that he was a wonderful saxophone player with a unique sound and approach to the instrument. With his soft tone coupled with the masculinity of the baritone, he would sometimes blow your mind, especially on ballads. He was a stand-up guy, and I had no complaints playing with him, because he was always straight and never deceptive or difficult to work for. Some others surrounding him could be difficult from time to time, but not Gerry. He said what he felt, occasionally to his own detriment, which could lead to misunderstandings with other people. He was always very generous and protective of his musicians, and a good example of that occurred back in 1956. The sextet was hooked into a Baltimore club, and Peck Morrison and I arrived early to set up. Afterwards we sat in the body of the club, but the owner sent someone over to tell us to wait in the kitchen, because musicians were not allowed in the club when they were not performing. When Gerry arrived, he saw the owner, and it turned out that the policy related particularly to the black players, so he came back to tell us to pack up; we were leaving. Now the place was sold out because Gerry was hotter than a firecracker at the time, and the owner knew he would lose a whole bunch of money if he didn't play. The policy changed immediately that night, thanks to Gerry's economic power.

I have already said that he only worked about six months a year, because if he worked more often, all the money would go to the federal government in taxes. We always flew first class whenever possible, because he could write that off as a business expense, and he bought our clothes, which were classed as uniforms, although they weren't. He paid well because he said he would rather give the money to his musicians than the government.

Apart from working for F. Lee Bailey, Dave taught flying at Westchester County Airport for a number of years after he stopped playing. He also succeeded Billy Taylor as a director of Jazzmobile, which organizes jazz performances in Harlem, Brooklyn, and the Bronx. He came out of retirement on February 12, 1996. at St. Peter's Church in Manhattan when, along with Art Farmer, Joe Temperley, and Bill Crow, he performed "Festive Minor" at Gerry Mulligan's memorial service."

NOTES

1.  On a CD recorded at Storyville, Mulligan can be heard losing patience with a noisy customer who insists on whistling during a performance of "Limelight." He threatens to take him outside, which must a first on a commercial recording! Pacific Jazz CP32-5358 CD.

2.  The Gerry Mulligan Songbook. Pacific Jazz 7243 8 33575 2 9.

3.  Gerry Mulligan Quartet Reunion with Chet Baker. Pacific Jazz CDP 8 38263-2

4.  Annie Ross Sings a Song with Mulligan. Pacific Jazz CDP 7243.

5.  Gerry Mulligan Quartet. JUCD 2052.

6.  Gerry Mulligan. What Is There to Say? Columbia CK 52978.

7.  Dave was reluctant to name names, as some of the drummers are still alive, but he did say that Art Taylor and Osie Johnson were both keen to join the group.

8.  One of Grimes's last appearances with Mulligan, Farmer, and Bailey was on CBS Timex T.V. show on April 30, 1958. Radiola Video MR 1095. His playing took a new direction in the sixties, when he started working with Cecil Taylor, Albert Ayle and Don Cherry. He retired from music in 1967.

9.  The Subterraneans original soundtrack. Sony AK 47486.

10.  Gerry Mulligan, Concert Jazz Band. Verve CLP 1432.

11.  Tubby Hayes, New York Sessions. CBS 4663632.

12.  Gerry Mulligan, Jeru. Columbia COL 473685 2.