Showing posts with label Iola Brubeck. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Iola Brubeck. Show all posts

Saturday, May 7, 2022

The Real Ambassadors: Dave and Iola Brubeck and Louis Armstrong Challenge Segregation by Keith Hatschek

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


“Documenting a largely untold history of Black and white jazz artists teaming up to challenge Jim Crow, with Cold War tensions and the emerging civil rights movement as a backdrop, the tale of The Real Ambassadors is a story within a story. … Understanding its complicated road to the stage against the backdrop of its underlying message can provide insight today, at a time when race relations are once again at the forefront of national discourse. 


“Dave and lola Brubeck and the cast of The Real Ambassadors collectively made a bold social and political statement at a time when many Americans were angry, confused, and in search of answers — lifting their voices to help bring about social change one song at a time. They can be seen as part of a wave of mid-twentieth-century American musicians, filmmakers, and artists who spoke out loudly against discrimination in direct response to their troubled times. This story illustrates the vital role that artists can play as ambassadors of the truth, speaking for equality and justice, both in their own time and through their art, for all times. It demonstrates the importance of keeping our eyes on the prize, even if we may never see that prize fully realized in our own lifetime.”

- Keith Hatschek, author


Frequent visitors to the blog may recall that the editorial staff at JazzProfiles has a special fondness for Dave and Iola Brubeck’s Jazz musical The Real Ambassadors featuring Louis Armstrong, Carmen McRae and Lambert, Hendricks and Bavan [Annie Ross performed on the studio recording made a year earlier] along with Pops’ All-Stars and Dave’s “classic” quartet which premiered at the 1962 Monterey Jazz Festival, sadly, it’s only performance with this group of musicians.


If you scroll down the blog’s sidebar [right hand column] under LABELS - The Real Ambassadors, you’ll find links to the nine previous posts on the subject.


Well, it would seem that we are not the only ones smitten by the significance of this moment-in-time performance as now, thanks to the auspices of the University of Mississippi Press as part of its “American Made Music Series”, comes a full book length treatment on the subject. 


In his well-written The Real Ambassadors: Dave and Iola Brubeck and Louis Armstrong Challenge Segregation, Keith Hatschek focuses on a not only on a comprehensive treatment of background of the Jazz musical but also brings forth a Jazz story which somehow is rarely emphasized in articles and chronicles about the music - cooperation rather than contention between white and Black musicians.


All too often, especially these days, the narrative focuses on how whites ripped off the Blacks who invented Jazz and went on to commercially benefit at their expense.


Thankfully, Keith Hatschek’s book sheds light on another important story about the Jazz World - how white and Black musicians came together to create entertaining and inspiring music.


And had it not been for the compact disc “revolution” of the 1980 and 1990, the general story of The Real Ambassadors might still be known only by members of the Jazz cognoscenti.  As the author explains:


The Real Ambassadors remained largely forgotten, until the compact disc boom of the early 1990s. During that time, in a rush to capitalize on the new format, record labels dug through their vaults to reissue recordings for listeners eager to upgrade their music collections. Columbia Records hired producer John Snyder to put together a reissue of the 1962 Real Ambassadors soundtrack album. The 1994 compact disc release featured four additional cuts that were not on the original album, offering fans a complete set of all the songs recorded in the September-December 1961 sessions, including Armstrong's spoken-word rendition of "Lonesome." Satchmo's poignant reading of lola's text echoed that moment in December 1958 when he had performed the lyric for Brubeck. The recording demonstrates Armstrong's dramatic talents:


All of my life, I've been lonely.

I'll go way back in my past.

I’ll tell you about Lonesome,

How the winters last and last.

I know the loneliest autumns,

Watching the leaves slowly turn,

Sad as the tag end of summer,

When dreams with the leaves will burn.

I've stood alone in springtime,

High up on a hill,

Cried in the rain in springtime,

Cause no one's there to share the thrill.

There a certain glory in summer,

Quiet contagious joy.

There is a silent story in summer, 

That calls to the mind of a young boy. 

You fell in love in summer, 

Then grew up far too fast. 

Still he returns each summer, 

To visit in the past. 

The past. 

The past.


The recording is unlike anything else in Armstrong's massive catalog: he played the song's melody on trumpet, accompanied by Brubeck, then over-dubbed the lyrics as a recitation, rather than singing the melody.' One can hear the emotions developed over a lifetime by Satchmo as a touring Black artist who had experienced so many forms of discrimination yet still hung on to a joy for his life as a musician and optimist. Armstrong biographer Ricky Riccardi sums up the chilling effect:


Though "Summer Song" is about as melancholy as a song can be, "Lonesome" really has some deep, low notes. Perhaps Brubeck toyed with the idea of using his Quartet to back Pops on this one, but in the end, someone had the great idea of having Pops play the melody on the trumpet while overdubbing his monologue on top of it. The result is almost an Armstrong sensory overload ... he's coming at you from all angles! Having him just speak the words without alluding to anything that remotely resembles a melody gives the song a chilling quality... the words of "Lonesome" should be written down for it truly is much more a poem than a song.


It's a completely straight-faced performance, though he manages a slight chuckle after mentioning the "young boy," His voice goes way down for the final repetitions of "the past." He sounds tired and scared, but it's just the true sign of Armstrong's acting ability. He was marvelous at conveying drama and "Lonesome" is one of his finest moments.1


Reflecting on this performance, one can imagine the dimension Armstrong would have brought to a fully realized musical theater production of The Real Ambassadors.


The reissue also included Carmen McRae's alternate reading of "Summer Song," an abbreviated version clocking in at nearly a minute less than Armstrong's performance, in which he repeats the bridge and a verse. McRae's reading is more delicate and understated, and it showcases how she could infuse lyrics with extra meaning through her gift for phrasing and inflection. The other previously unreleased tracks included the 45-rpm version of "Nomad," whose lyrics depict Dave Brubeck's experience while staying in Kabul, Afghanistan, on his 1958 State Department-sponsored tour. He heard the muffled beat of drums and a lone flute as nomadic shepherds drove their herds through the city on their way to the mountains. Brubeck described it as the "weirdest sound I ever heard."3 Joe Morello lays down a Latin-style beat using his toms, and clarinetist Joe Darensbourg conjures up visuals of a snake charmer with his harmonic minor introduction, leading into Armstrong's bouncy interpretation. An instrumental version of the song had appeared on the quartet's 1958 release, Jazz Impressions of Eurasia.


The fourth and final addition on the 1994 reissue was "You Swing, Baby," a duet featuring McRae and Armstrong set to the melody of Brubeck's well-known standard "The Duke." The timing and playful exchange between the two singers show off their natural chemistry. Satchmo takes two verses on trumpet, staying close to the melody while adding a few flourishes. The song concludes with the following passage:


Pops: When you send me, I stay gone. People ask me "what I'm on." Rhonda: To quote a phrase from ol' Satchmo, if ya gotta ask, then you'll never know! Pops: [ad lib—"I'm in love"] 

Pops: You swing, baby, you swing for me. I vote you soul mate of the

century.

Rhonda: Alone I sing a melody ... 

Pops: But it takes two for harmony. 

Together: Singing, swinging, our lives complete... as long as you're in

rhythm with the consummate beat. Living, loving, the human race

... this makes this crazy, mixed up world a swinging place.


In this lyric, lola cleverly included Armstrong's oft-cited rejoinder to the question he had often been asked: "What is jazz?" His famous answer was always, "If you gotta ask, then you'll never know." The fun Carmen and Louis were having on this recording is palpable, so it was a loss that the song never made it into the Monterey performance.


While the addition of these four numbers to the Brubeck catalog was noteworthy, it was of greater import that the CD reissue brought the musical back into the consciousness of the jazz community. A new generation of jazz musicians too young to know about its historic 1958 performance recognized that the work was truly groundbreaking, and its message of tolerance and

equality still resounded more than a half century after its creation. Writing about the CD reissue for AllMusic.com, critic Scott Yanow awarded it a four-star rating and characterized the work as "a largely upbeat play full of anti-racism songs that celebrated human understanding." He cautions listeners who are familiar with the cast members not to come to the disc with too many expectations, as "Paul Desmond is nowhere to be found, Louis Armstrong does not play that much trumpet here, and Lambert Hendricks and Ross essentially function as background singers." He does praise the duets between McRae and Armstrong as making a potent team, concluding by offering that the disc reveals "many touching and surprising moments"4 


The CD sold a total of 5,189 copies in the two-year period following its 1994 rerelease, nearly as many as the original album, and reported a negligible fifty-nine copies returned to Columbia for credit, only i percent of albums shipped.5


If you are not familiar with the background of the original performance of The Real Ambassadors, author Hatschek offers the following description of its evolution in the Prologue of his well-researched and richly detailed work:


“On the evening of September 23,1962, as civil rights momentum was escalating to a fervor, a cast of thirteen talented artists came together at the Monterey Jazz Festival to perform The Real Ambassadors, a jazz musical challenging racial inequality. The culmination of five years' work, the musical was written by well-known jazz musician Dave Brubeck and his wife, lola, expressly to feature the most celebrated jazz musician in the world, Louis Armstrong. That night, they performed a slimmed-down one-hour "concert version" of what was envisioned as a three-act Broadway show, and their hope was that this premiere would help make that full production dream a reality. Supporting players included Carmen McRae, the vocal trio Lambert, Hendricks & Bavan, and Armstrong's All-Star band, along with Dave Brubeck, Eugene Wright, and Joe Morello.1 lola Brubeck, who wrote the book and co wrote the lyrics for her husband's songs, provided narration from a separate temporary stage to frame the musical numbers and explain the show's themes.


The musical was inspired in part by the US State Department and its cultural ambassadors program, which had been sending American jazz musicians abroad beginning with Dizzy Gillespie's 1956 tour. These jazz ambassadors toured overseas as a form of cultural diplomacy, promoting jazz as a uniquely American art form and touting it as a product of a free society. The Brubecks' Real Ambassadors offered a nuanced portrait of these jazz ambassadors, drawing heavily on the experiences the couple had during their own State Department-sponsored global tour in 1958. Selling the notions of freedom and equality abroad was intended to present a contrast to the opposing totalitarian model offered by the Soviet Union. Ironically, however, while America's Black jazz ambassadors were treated as royalty abroad, they still suffered racial prejudice at home on a daily basis.


The Real Ambassadors told the story of this irony, chronicling the hard road traveled by jazz musicians on tour for Uncle Sam in the 1950s. Led by a charismatic trumpeter and vocalist, "Pops," and his love interest, the band's

vivacious female singer “Rhonda," the show's lyrics and dialogue made plain the Brubecks' belief that segregation must be overturned and that artists should take a stand to work toward social justice. The Real Ambassadors tackled controversial themes head-on, and some of its concepts could be considered blasphemous at the time — for example, posing the question "Could God be Black?" in one of the musical's most memorable songs, and dreaming aloud of a time when integrated music groups might be able to perform in Mississippi. Historian Penny Von Eschen argued that bringing the show to the stage at the height of the civil rights movement was not without risk. She stated:


“From our present day perspective, these types of statements defending civil rights and egalitarianism seem relatively mild, but when this was produced, America was at the height of the violent civil rights movement, and the federal government had not yet begun to take a stand to defend civil rights advocacy on a formal level. It was a very bold, controversial act at that moment in time."1


In evidence reconstructing the musical's rocky path to the stage, we see that music industry power players such as Columbia Records president Goddard Lieberson warned the Brubecks to avoid such controversy if Dave and lola wanted to see the musical realized.


In the early 1960s, the battle over civil rights in the United States was front and center on nightly newscasts, and the musical and its message were perfectly attuned to the national debate. At the time, powerful governmental, economic, fraternal, and institutional groups in the US were aligned to prevent the end of racial segregation by working actively to sustain the centuries-old practices of Jim Crow, ingrained practices that restricted the civil and societal rights of Black Americans and relegated them to second-class status. Even though the landmark 1954 decision reached in Brown v. Board of Education outlawed school segregation, local leaders scoffed at the law and maintained strict segregation throughout society, most prominently in the South. Powerful leaders such as Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., Medgar Evers, and Dr. Ralph Abernathy, and organizations such as the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People (NAACP), had raised their voices and were taking action to demand an end to segregation. Nonviolent actions including marches, boycotts, sit-ins, and teach-ins led by ministers, students, and activists were reported regularly in the media — especially when such peaceful acts caused violent responses from those strongly opposed to breaking the grip of Jim Crow. The nation was undergoing a crisis of unprecedented scope.


Within twelve months of the show's debut, the tragic evidence of a nation divided would be apparent to the whole world. Only a few days after the show's 1962 premiere, James Meredith enrolled to attend the University of Mississippi, the first African American student to do so. This led to riots that left three persons dead, six policemen shot, and dozens injured on the campus. A few months later, in May 1963, the Southern Christian Leadership Conference rallied students of all ages to march peacefully in protest to downtown Birmingham, Alabama, where the notorious commissioner of public safety, Bull Connor, ordered fire hoses used on the children, knocking many off their feet and shredding their clothes. This inhumanity was documented everywhere, from major networks' nightly newscasts to the front page of the New York Times, where on May 4th, an iconic photo spread showed a Black high school student, Walter Gadsden, being attacked by Connor's police dogs. Four months later, on Sunday, September 15,1963, the murder of four young girls in the 16th Street Baptist Church bombing further stunned the nation. News coverage of the protests dominated every form of media, and every day, Americans were reminded of the sacrifices being made by citizens of color.


Given this context, it is no surprise that The Real Ambassadors' road to the stage was neither straightforward nor simple, spanning five years of the lives of Dave and lola Brubeck, the creators and evangelists who were determined to bring the show to life. As Dave Brubeck's own music career blossomed, he made his position on civil rights a cornerstone of his identity, both as an artist and an American. He was quoted frequently in interviews with a courageous mantra: that society would benefit from becoming color-blind. His ideals had come from observing how his father, Pete Brubeck, managed the large ranch in California's Central Valley where the family lived in the 1930s. His father treated everyone with respect, hiring ranch hands who were white, Mexican, and Native American. The young Brubeck worked summers and after school as a ranch hand, side by side with these men, while attending the local public school in lone, California, where he had a number of friends who were Native American. The pianist's humanistic values advanced through his subsequent experiences as a young GI leading what was likely the first integrated US Army band, the Wolfpack, during World War II.3 After the war, Brubeck hired African American bassist Wyatt "Bull" Ruther as a member of the Dave Brubeck Quartet in 1951-52.4 


In 1958, another Black bassist, Eugene Wright, became a mainstay of the quartet. Due to Jim Crow restrictions on integrated bands performing in the South, the Dave Brubeck Quartet had to cancel twenty-two dates of a 1960 Southern college campus tour. Brubeck refused to replace Wright with a white bassist, losing an estimated $40,000 in income. Having witnessed firsthand the sting of discrimination through his many musical friends and colleagues, Brubeck and his wife developed a deep-seated commitment to equal rights for all.


The Brubecks used their wits and resources to enlist the aid of every like-minded show business contact they had in order to make The Real Ambassadors a reality. Still, the performance itself was nearly torpedoed in the weeks leading up to the festival by Armstrong's manager, Joe Glaser, a powerful man who saw much to lose and little to gain from such an endeavor. Likewise, Armstrong's own wife, Lucille, feared that tackling difficult new songs might have been beyond her husband's reach at that time, as he had suffered a near-fatal heart attack in 1959 while on the road in Italy and was weakened by forty years of non stop touring.


The night of the premiere belonged to the cast. At its conclusion one critic noted that "the performers were rewarded with a standing ovation by 5,000 fans. Everyone applauded, some wept."5 Critics unanimously praised the work as a bold statement supporting equal rights, telling the story of African American musicians with dignity and sensitivity in a way that deserved national attention. With these endorsements ringing in their ears, the Brubecks' five-year effort to bring the full production to Broadway or television felt within reach. But the growing success of the Dave Brubeck Quartet, which came to be the most popular small jazz ensemble in the world, eclipsed The Real Ambassadors, until it reemerged in the 1990s as a vital, if overlooked piece of Brubecks and Armstrong's careers. In the twenty-first century, it has enjoyed three revivals, which have proven that the timeless messages in it still ring true today.


Documenting a largely untold history of Black and white jazz artists teaming up to challenge Jim Crow, with Cold War tensions and the emerging civil rights movement as a backdrop, the tale of The Real Ambassadors is a story within a story. Wrapped around the production's fictional plot was a very real account of struggle in the civil rights era, as Louis Armstrong and Dave and lola Brubeck fought to present a musical designed to foment social change. Understanding its complicated road to the stage against the backdrop of its underlying message can provide insight today, at a time when race relations are once again at the forefront of national discourse. 


These talented artists demonstrated that challenging racism, xenophobia, gender bias, and other hate-based creeds requires logic, compassion, wit, and above all, dogged persistence—and that the reward may come in unexpected forms and on unexpected timelines. Dave and lola Brubeck and the cast of The Real Ambassadors collectively made a bold social and political statement at a time when many Americans were angry, confused, and in search of answers — lifting their voices to help bring about social change one song at a time. They can be seen as part of a wave of mid-twentieth-century American musicians, filmmakers, and artists who spoke out loudly against discrimination in direct response to their troubled times. This story illustrates the vital role that artists can play as ambassadors of the truth, speaking for equality and justice, both in their own time and through their art, for all times. It demonstrates the importance of keeping our eyes on the prize, even if we may never see that prize fully realized in our own lifetime.


Here’s an idea: get yourself a CD of The Real Ambassadors and a copy of Mr. Hatschek’s book and listen to the former while reading the latter. Add a couple of scoops of your favorite ice cream in a bowl and I guarantee you're in store for a memorable experience. [You may want to keep more ice cream at hand.]


For order information on Mr. Hatschek's book go here.







Sunday, April 5, 2020

The Real Ambassadors - Penny M. von Eschen

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


At present, the best overview of 'The Real Ambassadors is found in Penny M. Von Eschen, Satchmo Blows Up the World: Jazz Ambassadors Play the Cold War (Cambridge, MA, and London: Harvard University Press, 2004), 79-91. Much of this material also appeared in Penny M. Von Eschen, "The Real Ambassadors," in Uptown Conversation: The New Jazz Studies, ed Robert G. O'Meally, Brent Hayes Edwards, and Farah Jasmine Griffin (New York: Columbia University Press, 2004), 189-103.
- Stephen A. Crist, Dave Brubeck’s Time Out [Oxford Studies in Recorded Jazz], footnote 69, chapter 10.

lola Brubeck, liner notes to The Real Ambassadors, Columbia LP (1962). The Real Ambassadors, book by lola Brubeck, music by Dave Brubeck, lyrics by lola and Dave Brubeck, premiered on September 23, 1962, at the Monterey Jazz Festival in Monterey, California, with the following cast: Louis Armstrong, Dave Brubeck, Carmen McRae, lola Brubeck. Trummy Young. Dave Lambert, Jon Hendricks, Yolande Bavan, Joe Morello, Eugene Wright, Joe Darensburg, Billy Kyle, Willy Kronk, and Danny Barcelona. Howard Brubeck was the Musical Coordinator. A folio of fifteen songs and related narration from The Real Ambassadors was printed in 1963 and published by Hansen Publications. That folio is no longer available. Twenty songs from The Real Ambassadors were recorded in September and December 1961 by Louis Armstrong, Dave Brubeck, Carmen McRae, Dave Lambert, Jon Hendricks, Annie Ross, and additional musicians, most of whom later pertonned at the 1962 premiere. Fifteen of those recorded songs were released by Columbia Records in 1962 on an LP entitled The Real Ambassadors (COL CL 5850). That LP is no longer available. In 1994 all twenty recorded songs were released by Sony Music Entertainment on the Columbia/Legacy label on a CD entitled The Real Ambassadors (CK 57663)
- Penny M. von Eschen, Satchmo Blows Up The World: Jazz Ambassadors Play the Cold War [Harvard University Press, 2004], footnote 77, chapter 3

One of the many what-might-have-been moments from Jazz history that has always fascinated me was what it might have been like to see the pairing of Louis Armstrong and Dave Brubeck in the latter’s The Real Ambassadors staged as a Broadway musical.

Regrettably, Dave’s music and Iola Brubeck’s librettos and lyrics for what Pops’ claimed at the time to be “an opera that the Brubecks wrote for me” was performed by the original cast which included the Armstrong Sextet, the Brubeck Quartet, vocalist Carmen McRae and the vocal group of Lambert Hendricks and Bavan only once at the 1962 Monterey Jazz Festival.

Since both Pops and Dave were managed by the powerful and influential Joe Glaser of the Associated Booking Company, the Brubecks had hoped that he would use his clout and resources to bring The Real Ambassadors to the Broadway stage as a continuously running musical.

Instead, Glaser took a very dim view of this idea mainly because he thought that the fees from concert and club appearances by Armstrong and Brubeck would far exceed anything generated by a Jazz-themed Broadway play with political and diplomatic overtones. To add insult to injury, Glaser even barred TV crews from filming it!

But given my fascination with the obvious reverence and respect that the Brubeck’s had for Pops in bringing off The Real Ambassadors in the first place, including getting Columbia to record the full soundtrack in 1961, a year before it was performed, and issue the music as in LP in conjunction with the performance at the 1962 MJF, I am always on the lookout for more information on the subject.

Which brings me to this section on The Real Ambassadors contained in Penny M. von Eschen’s Satchmo Blows Up The World: Jazz Ambassadors Play the Cold War [Harvard University Press, 2004]. At the time of its publication, Dr. von Eschen was a Professor of History and American Culture at the University of Michigan.

The Real Ambassador

“A half-decade after the beginning of the jazz tours, the jury was still out as to their achievements and effects. In the words of the writer and lyricist tola Brubeck, "The entire jazz community was elated with the official recognition of jazz and its international implications." Yet jazz artists who had participated in the tours had experienced first hand the uneasy juxtaposition of the arts and less than transparent foreign-policy agendas. And as members of integrated bands, they were uniquely steeped in the ironies of the export of jazz ambassadors at a time when America was still a Jim Crow nation and civil rights activists were faced with violent resistance and the inaction of the federal government. 

Following their own tour through Eastern Europe and the Middle East in 1958, Dave and lola Brubeck addressed these ironies in the satirical musical The Real Ambassadors, a 1961-1962 collaboration between the Brubecks and Louis Armstrong. The bands of both leaders came together for the production, and many of the musicians — including drummer Joe Morello, trombonist and vocalist Trurnmy Young, and pianist Billy Kyle — had been on the State Department tours. A jazz musical revue performed to critical acclaim at the Monterey Jazz Festival in September 1962 — with Brubeck and Armstrong, joined by vocalists Carmen McRae and Dave Lambert, Jon Hendricks, and Yolande Bavan — The Real Ambassadors satirized State Department objectives, personnel, and protocol, and voiced a powerful and unequivocal indictment of Jim Crow America."

The Real Ambassadors received much praise in the music world for its swinging juxtaposition of disparate musical styles. As Leonard Feather described it: "Often witty, sometimes poignant words fare] eloquently matched with melodies that are simple, totally suited to the artists, and generally of unusual melodic charm." But it was also an important work of cultural and social criticism and a provocative political intervention, lauded by critics for its powerful "social message" that avoided propaganda and pretension." The Real Ambassadors brilliantly captured the often complex (and contradictory) politics of the State Department tours at the intersections of the Cold War, African and Asian nation building, and the U.S. civil rights struggle. On the one hand, the Brubecks saw many of the State Department personnel with whom they had worked as their allies in the promotion of the arts. For these government cultural workers, like the musicians, the State Department tours offered a unique opportunity to follow in the best traditions of countries (such as France) that made culture, and not simply defense, a fundamental part of their foreign relations. In satirizing the tours, lola Brubeck guessed that "we were saying things a lot of the cultural personnel would probably have liked to say themselves."

On the other hand, as in Gillespie's tour of the Middle East, not all U.S. foreign-service personnel were as enlightened as those encountered by the Brubecks. Despite the overarching State Department strategy of supporting civil rights, individual officials abroad often mirrored the racial views of President Eisenhower and his segregationist allies, who were profoundly uncomfortable with the presence of African Americans. Thus, honoring the perspectives of the musicians, the Brubecks allude to the ways in which the tours, like world events, could sometimes spin out of the control of the State Department.

Set in a mythical African country named Talgalla, The Real Ambassadors opens with the narrator explaining how the hero, modeled on and played by Armstrong, had "spoken to millions of the world's people" with his horn. He and other musicians had "inadvertently served a national purpose, which officials recognized and eventually sanctioned with a program called cultural exchange." We are reminded that the tours were fundamentally a product of Cold War foreign policy. The foreign policy of the tours, as well as the ironic background of racial unrest in the United States, is captured in the song "Cultural Exchange" (lyrics by tola Brubeck):

Yeah! I remember when Diz was in Greece back in '56.
He did such a good job, we started sending jazz all over the world.
The State Department has discovered jazz. It reaches folks like nothing ever has. Like when they feel that jazzy rhythm, They know we're really with 'em; That's what they call cultural exchange.

No commodity is quite so strange
As this thing called cultural exchange.
Say that our prestige needs a tonic,
Export the Philharmonic,
That's what we call cultural exchange!
. . . And when our neighbors call us vermin,
We sent out Woody Herman,

Note the telling observation that "no commodity is quite so strange / as this thing called cultural exchange." Indeed, in the tours by Armstrong and the Brubecks, cultural exchange was a commodity that closely paralleled the quintessential Cold War commodities, oil and uranium. An appreciation of the musicians' critique of State Department notions of cultural exchange must begin with the fact that both artists had participated in the tours. They had deliberately been sent into the front lines of major foreign-policy crises.
lola Brubeck's lyrics indicate that the scope of these programs involved many realms of the performing arts, yet emphasize that jazz was the pet project of the State Department. That U.S. officials could claim jazz as a uniquely American art form gave it more diplomatic cachet than classical music, theater, or ballet. And the inferiority complex of government officials and supporters of the arts toward the classical music and ballet of Europeans and the Soviet Union could be used as an argument to fund the arts, and thus could be turned to the advantage of the American arts.

In The Real Ambassadors the Brubecks addressed the glaring contradiction in a U.S. strategy that promoted black musicians as symbols of the triumph of American democracy when America was still a Jim Crow nation. Brubeck was concerned that Armstrong's contribution to the civil rights cause was being largely overlooked even though official attempts to showcase Armstrong as a symbol of racial progress had imploded when Armstrong denounced President Eisenhower during the desegregation crisis in Little Rock in 1957. Despite Armstrong's outspokenness, as the struggle for equality accelerated he was widely criticized by civil rights activists as an Uncle Tom, and compared unfavorably with a younger, more militant group of jazz musicians. 

Written as a tribute to Armstrong, The Real Ambassadors recovered his submerged militancy and paid homage to him as a political actor. It also expressed Brubeck's own commitment to desegregation. Throughout the 1950s, Brubeck had refused to play before segregated audiences in the South or to accede to segregationist demands that he replace his African American bassist, Eugene Wright."*

The musical opens with a suggestion of the militancy concealed behind Armstrong's mask, countering the perception that Armstrong hewed to whites' stereotypes of black cheerfulness and docility. The narrators claim that the hero possesses the "ability to keep his opinions to himself," is challenged when a voice (Armstrong) declares, "Lady, if you could read my mind, your head would bust wide open." Moreover, the audience learns precisely what was on the hero's mind: "Look here, what we need is a goodwill tour of Mississippi." And in a sharp reminder of Armstrong's denunciation of Eisenhower: "Forget Moscow — when do we play in New Orleans!"

Nevertheless, the hero is persuaded to begin yet another tour. "The morning of their departure, members of the President's Committee . . . for Cultural Exchange appeared to give the musicians a last minute 'briefing.'. . . When you travel in a far-off-land / Remember, you're more than just a band. / You represent the USA / So watch what you think and do and say." Here, as well as in the song "Remember Who You Are," the Brubecks evoked and evaluated the briefing they received before embarking on their tours:

[Armstrong]: Remember who you are and what you represent.
Always be a credit to your government.
No matter what you say or what you do,
The eyes of the world are watching you.
Remember who you are and what you represent. . . . 

[Trummy Young]: Remember who you are and what you represent.
Never face a problem, always circumvent.
Stay away from issues.
Be discreet — when controversy enters, you retreat.

As we have seen with Quincy Jones's scathing indictment of the Gillespie Band's briefing, musicians were often quite taken aback by the directives they received. But if Gillespie was able to dodge his, briefings were an inescapable part of the tour, providing, in the words of Brubeck, "a long list of how we should act." With briefings so focused on the prevention of potentially embarrassing behavior, the Brubeck Quartet had had no warning about the turbulent politics they encountered. Moreover, like the Gillespie band, the musicians sometimes encountered unsympathetic cultural personnel, and in those circumstances they could be overwhelmed by the politics of the tours. Expressing a frustration with the emphasis on elite audiences, trumpeter Clark Terry, who toured India and Pakistan in 1978, explained that they "coined a phrase to describe the official receptions musicians were expected to attend: 'time for us to go to the grinner.'" Terry added that "our escort officer was very uptight, very strict about time, appearance, and behavior. . . . 'If these guys blow it, it's my neck.”
Indeed, the last stanza of "Remember Who You Are" alludes to the musicians' allegiance to something other than the American government —
namely, jazz and the history that gave birth to the music. Armstrong sings:

Remember who you are and what you represent. 
Jelly Roll and Basie helped us to invent 
A weapon like no other nation has; 
Especially the Russians can't claim jazz. . . .

Here, the artist's burden of representation is to remember Jelly Roll and Basie and to represent jazz, even as the lyrics celebrate the gift of that music to America and proclaim pride in the music's status as a unique Cold War weapon.

As the tour, free of political drama (no wars, no political assassinations), comes to a close in The Real Ambassadors, the hero's story has just begun. In his travels throughout Africa, the hero had heard stories of Talgalla, "the newest of new African nations." Talgalla's portrayal in the musical satirizes the political motives for the African tours. "It had been unknown and unrecognized as a nation until the two great superpowers simultaneously discovered its existence. Suddenly Talgalla was a nation to be reckoned with." The Russians had built roads; "U.S. equipment had cleared the airfield."

On the one hand, Talgalla is imagined as a product of super-power rivalries. Its mythic status as a repository of "tradition" and Utopian dreams displaces actual African politics, just as the revue's subplot, a love story, displaces the story of U.S. interests in Africa and other formerly colonized areas (Armstrong's actual trip through Africa as well as Brubeck's actual trip through the Middle East). Yet Talgalla is also a place where a new social order can be ushered in — a symbol of democratic and Utopian aspirations. The hero has been drawn to Talgalla by tales of an annual ceremony in which the social order in this "tiny tribal monarchy" is "turned upside down" for a week. Thus, as they approach Talgalla, the hero dreams of being "King for a Day.

Despite the hero's superficial aspiration to be king, the song "King for a Day" unfolds as a satire on authority and a critique of political (civil rights) gradualism; the hero affirms a revolution in social relations against a voice that tells him, "You're expecting too much too soon." The opening passage illuminates the inspiration for the collaboration between the Brubecks and Armstrong and the fact that the Brubecks wrote the revue specifically for Armstrong. Constantly rewriting the libretto over a period of nearly five years to keep it topical, and writing with Armstrong in mind, the Brubecks incorporated Armstrong's playful statements before embarking on his six-month African tour in 1960. Armstrong was quoted in Down Beat commenting on the chance that the trip might extend behind the Iron Curtain: "Yeah, I'd like to slip under the Curtain. Let all them foreign ministers have their summit conferences—Satch just might get somewhere with them cats in a basement session.”

[Armstrong]: Man! If they would just let me run things my way, this
world would be a swingin' place! 
[Trummy Young]: Yeah, Pops! What would you do? 
[Armstrong: The first thing I'd do is call a basement session. 
[Trummy Young]: Uh, Pops, you mean summit conference. 
[Armstrong]: Man, I don't mean a UN kind of session. I mean a
jam session.

Presenting jazz as a model for democracy, the lyrics move deftly between civil rights themes and international relations:

[Armstrong]: I'd go and form a swinging band
With all the leaders from every land. 
[Young]: Can't you hear that messed up beat?
I'll tell you now you'll meet defeat. 
[Armstrong]: Why they will fall right in a swinging groove
And all the isms gonna move.
Relationships is bound to improve.

As the debate between the hero and the skeptic continues, it alludes to symbols of monarchy and authority. In the playful discussion of the oppositional black politics of self-naming, lola Brubeck is referencing bassist Eugene Wright's sobriquet "Senator," a nickname that stuck from the time of their 1958 tour, as well as riffing on an Armstrong interview where he explained his attitude toward the title of "Ambassador."' During his 1960 Africa tour, Armstrong told New York Times Magazine reporter Gilbert Millstein: "We used to call one another that when we was broke and hungry. That's where the Duke got his name, Duke Ellington. And the Count — Count Basie."

[Trummy Young]: Pops, you got eyes to wear a crown? 
[Armstrong]: I might enjoy being king.
After all, Buddy Bolden was king. 
[Trummy Young]: And there's King Oliver. 
[Armstrong]: There's Count Basie. 
[Young]: And Duke Ellington. 
[Armstrong]: And Earl "Fatha"Hines. 
[Young]: Man, quit jiving me! You know that cat ain 't no Earl.
That's his first name! 
[Armstrong]: No? Man, he had me fooled all these years!

The United States has recognized the importance of Talgalla by appointing an ambassador, due to arrive momentarily. When the hero arrives — trumpet in hand — he blows his horn as a sign of greeting. Mistaking Armstrong for the officially appointed American ambassador, the Talgallans ask, "You are the American Ambassador aren't you?" The hero replies: That's what they call me, Ambassador Satch." The Talgallans are thrilled that "out of all the Americans such a wondrous man should be chosen as their Ambassador." Everyone is happy for several days, but the arrival of the U.S. ambassador sparks a flurry of confusion: Who's the real ambassador?

In the studio performance of the number "Who's the Real Ambassador?" the singers Dave Lambert, Jon Hendricks, and Annie Ross make appropriately stiff and sanctimonious State Department personnel, with the lyrics repeated a second time at breakneck tempo, parodying the uptight frenzy perceived by many musicians.

It is evident we represent American society, 
noted for its etiquette, its manners and sobriety. 
We have followed protocol with absolute propriety. 
We 're Yankees to the core. 
We're the real Ambassadors, 
Though we may appear as bores. 
We are diplomats in our proper hats.

Fortunately, Armstrong steps in and clears up the confusion. But in doing so, he challenges the legitimacy of government policy and asserts his authority, grounded in something deeper than mere state sanction.

I’m the real Ambassador!
It is evident I wasn't sent by government to take your place.
All I do is play the blues and meet the people face to face.
I'll explain and make it plain I represent the human race and don't
pretend no more. 
Who's the real Ambassador? 
Certain facts we can't ignore. 
In my humble way—I'm the USA. 
Though I represent the government, 
The government don't represent some policies I'm for. 
Oh, we've learned to be concerned about the Constitutionality. 
In our nation segregation isn't a legality. 
Soon our only differences will be in personality. 
That's what I stand for. 
Who's the real Ambassador? Yeah, The real Ambassador.

With the central political tension of the drama resolved, the narrative turns to a romantic subplot, yet continually revisits the animating theme of civil rights. The poignant number "They Say I Look Like God," singled out by the Saturday Review as "moving and daring" and by critic Ralph Gleason as "one of the most moving moments in Monterey's history," opens with the lines:

They say I Look like God. 
Could God he black? My God! 
If all are made in the image ofThee, 
Could thou perchance a zebra be?

Brubeck praised Armstrong for his ability to transform some of the more trivial lyrics — those written for a laugh — into pathos or political commentary. The Brubecks had written the lines for a laugh, "to show how ridiculous" a religious conception of racial hierarchy was. But, Brubeck continued: "Louis had tears in his eyes. He didn't go for a laugh, and the audience followed him away from our original intentions. And all through the night, he took those lines that were supposed to get a laugh and went the other way with it. And at the record session he cried. You can hear it at the end, when he says 'Really free' for the last time. He broke down a little.” 

After years of demeaning roles, the collaboration in The Real Ambassadors offered Armstrong material that was closer to his own sensibility and outlook. And while Armstrong had often managed to rise above racist material by the sheer force of his artistry, the production allowed him a chance to make a statement about a life-long struggle for control over his own representation — a struggle that had hardly ended with the Little Rock incident. For Armstrong, freedom remained an aspiration, not an achievement. And the power of The Real Ambassadors, which was performed during the most turbulent years of the civil rights movement, lay in its articulation of that yearning, as well as in its satirical wit and musical accomplishments.

After the Monterey Jazz Festival, The Real Ambassadors was never again performed. (The studio production, released on LP and reissued on CD, was recorded before the festival.) At Monterey, Joe Glaser, Armstrong's longtime manager, prevented the TV crews from filming it. Attempts to get it produced, including plans for a Broadway production, failed; it was consistently viewed, at the height of violent resistance to the civil rights movement, as too political and controversial." In the Utopian finale, "Swing Bells, Blow Satchmo" — rich with Old Testament biblical imagery of black Christianity — the hero's horn ("Joshua had just a horn") has announced a new world:

Ring out the news! The world can laugh again. 
This day — we're free! We're equal in every way. . . . 
Lift up thy voice like a trumpet
And show thy people their transgressions and their sins. . . . 
Let the oppressed go free. . . . Blow Satchmo! Blow Satchmo! 
Can it really be, that you set all people free?

That day had certainly not yet arrived in 1962 — a year marked in the United States by the deaths and casualties inflicted by those protesting James Meredith's registration at the University of Mississippi, Oxford, and in the Belgian Congo by the start of many decades of U.S. -backed dictatorships. And it would appear no closer in the following year, when dogs and hoses were turned on demonstrators in the campaigns of the Southern Christian Leadership Conference (SCLC) in Birmingham, Alabama, and when four children were murdered in the bombing of that city's Sixteenth Street Baptist Church.

Even as the U.S. government recognized the power of jazz and African American culture and tried to harness it to Cold War foreign policy by projecting abroad an image of racial progress, the State Department jazz tours also provided a global platform from which to celebrate the subversive wit of jazz, and to announce to the world: "Been waitin’ so long for ... the day we'll be free." 

The international power and appeal of jazz did not lie in the fact that it represented the music of a free country, as the State Department would have it. Rather, as brilliantly and forcefully articulated in The Real Ambassadors, it was conveyed through the instruments and voices of the jazz ambassadors. The epitome of these, Louis Armstrong, expressed his aspirations for freedom in a world where he, like so many of the people for whom he played, was still awaiting the day when he would be "really free."”

Postscript:

Forty years later, in 2002, The Real Ambassadors returned to the Monterey Jazz Festival, this time featuring the Dave Brubeck Quartet, Lizz Wright, Roy Hargrove, and Christian McBride. Archival footage of this performance is available through the Monterey Jazz Festival Collection at Stanford University. The first revival of the musical was presented at the 2013 Detroit Jazz Festival with Bill Meyer using the same format of a concert performance with narrator as the Brubecks had staged at Monterey. It was next performed in New York City for the first time, in 2014, at Jazz at Lincoln Center, featuring original vocalist who performed at the Monterey premiere, Yolande Bavan, this time in the role of Narrator. Connecticut jazz vocalist Dianne Mower has been making efforts to bring about a Broadway revival of the show.