Sunday, March 10, 2019

Shorty Rogers - An Invisible Orchard

© -  Steven A. Cerra, copyright protected; all rights reserved.


At one point in my life, the music of Shorty Rogers was anything but “invisible.”


Heck, I came of age as a Jazz drummer during the heyday of Jazz on the West Coast with Shorty as one of the recognized leaders of that supposed “movement.”


Larry Bunker, my drum teacher, was among Shorty’s closest friends and often worked in his small group, Shorty Rogers and The Giants, and on many of Shorty’s studio recordings. As a result, I was often around Shorty as Larry’s invited guest. We “hung out” together on a number of occasions and he hired me to do some commercial studio work for him.


In the Spring of 1961, flute and alto saxophonist Paul Horn and vibraphonist Emil Richards were raving about a new LP they were recording with Shorty at RCA. [Emil was a member of Paul Horn’s quintet from around 1959-1962.]


As usual, Shorty had all the top Jazz and studio players on it: Al Porcino, Ollie Mitchell and Ray Triscari sharing lead trumpet duties; Conte Candoli taking the Jazz trumpet solos with Frank Rosolino taking the Jazz trombone solos; Paul and Bud Shank on alto sax and flute; Bill Perkins and Harold Land doing the tenor sax Jazz solos; Chuck Gentry or Bill Hood anchoring the sax section on baritone; a rhythm section that featured Pete Jolly on piano, Red Mitchell on bass and Mel Lewis on drums.


The untitled album never came out and by the late 1960’s both Shorty and much of Jazz on the West Coast had disappeared.


As Ted Gioia explains in his seminal work on the subject of West Coast Jazz, Modern Jazz in California, 1945-1960:


“ … [Shorty’s] arrangements could swing without ostentation; his solos were executed with untroubled fluency; his compositions seemed to navigate the most difficult waters with a relaxed, comfortable flow that belied the often complex structures involved. Rogers's lifestyle, in its refusal to call attention to itself, followed a similar philosophy. While many of his colleagues on the West Coast found it easier to make headlines through their counterculture ways than through their music, Rogers had little to do with such excesses. He paid his dues and his monthly bills with equal equanimity. This was perhaps too cool. Rogers was easy to take for granted.


Rogers's visibility in jazz has been further hindered by his virtual retirement from performing situations since the early 1960s. …. Rogers recorded prolifically between 1951 and 1963, only to fade from the scene afterwards. …  Rogers [had not ]actually left the music world; … [he]simply applied … [his] skills elsewhere, in studio work or academic pursuits. But to the jazz community this was tantamount to retirement.


In reaction to Rogers's retreat into studio work, some jazz fans have been even less generous. They have viewed this change in careers as nothing short of treason, a betrayal of the serious music Rogers had once strived to create. But no matter how one interprets Rogers the musician, his lengthy absence from the jazz world has meant that his work, once widely known, is now largely unfamiliar to many jazz fans and critics.”


Shorty Rogers passed away in 1994 at the age of seventy.


Thanks to the efforts of Jordi Pujol, who is based in Barcelona, Spain and who owns and operates Fresh Sound Records and a number of associated Jazz record labels, much of Shorty’s music has once again become “visible” in reissued CD formats.


Jordi, bless his soul, even released the Shorty big band sessions that Paul Horn and Emil Richards were raving about “back in the day,” while providing this background about them in the sleeve notes that he wrote to accompany the CD.


Shorty Rogers and His Orchestra featuring the Giants: AN INVISIBLE ORCHARD [RCA 74321495602].


“After having produced several reissues during the last fourteen years of some of the great albums Shorty Rogers made for RCA, it's now time to present one of the most valuable treasures that have remained unreleased in the RCA vaults.


I've been very fortunate to have been good friends with Shorty, and to have had his collaboration in some projects for Fresh Sound Records. Shorty himself gave me a cassette of these sessions, with all the enclosed discographical information, with the hope that the album would finally see the light of day. This album was entirely written by him, and conceived as a suite with the title of "An Invisible Orchard", and was possibly the most personal and ambitious project he ever put together.


It was the last album he recorded for RCA, after having been associated with the label from 1953 to 1961, except for the year 1955 when he went to Atlantic as musical director. Unfortunately the policy of RCA at that time resulted in the recording being put on hold for commercial reasons. They felt it was not the kind of music the public was expecting to hear at that particular time, ten years after


Shorty had established his name and figure as the head of the so-called West Coast Jazz school, and the new trends in jazz caused the company to feel that the album did not fall within their current plans. As a confirmed Shorty Rogers fan, I'm grateful to the RCA archives for having located the master tapes, which has given me the opportunity to produce this CD. However, I feel sad that it arrived too late to make Shorty himself happy, for more than anyone else he deserved to see this CD issued. This should be not only a memorable and momentous jazz event but a major homage to the man and musician who was admired and respected by the entire music world. God Bless You Shorty Rogers!”

You can order the CD directly from Fresh Sound Records by going here.


The following audio file features Shorty's arrangement of Inner Space, The solos are by Harold Land on tenor sax, Shorty on flugelhorn, Emil Richards on vibes, Frank Rosolino on trombone and Pete Jolly on piano. The drummer is Mel Lewis and the lead trumpets are Al Porcino and Ray Triscari. It is the opening track of the Invisible Orchard CD.

Saturday, March 9, 2019

Feldman Swing Club - Jazz Journal, April 1966

© -  Steven A. Cerra, copyright protected; all rights reserved.


Mark Gilbert, editor of JazzJournal, granted copyright permission to reprint this article about the Feldman Swing Club that first appeared in its pages in April, 1996.

The Feldman Swing Club is where it all began for drummer, vibraphonist/pianist Victor Feldman, and, as the article points out, it was also the beginning point for many of the careers of England’s superb Jazz musicians during the second half of the 20th century.

Victor has donned formal wear in the above photo for the purpose of inviting you to come to the cabaret that was the center of the Jazz world in London from 1942-1954 – The Feldman Swing Club.

© -  JazzJournal: copyright protected, all rights reserved, used with permission.

“This is the story of Britain's first ever real jazz club, The Feldman Swing Club, where famous British and American musicians played during, and just after World War II and where many readers perhaps had their first opportunity to hear and participate in live jam sessions.  Researched and recounted by Barbara Feldman, niece of both founders, Robert and Monty Feldman and the famous international jazz drummer/vibist/pianist, Victor Feldman, it charts the central role played by her family within UK jazz history as creators of what the Melody Maker described as the 'Mecca of Swing.' The eldest Feldman brother, Arnold - Barbara's father - played trumpet, but was at that time stationed in Gibraltar with the RAF, and so took no part in the proceedings of the Feldman Club until after demobilisation.

This account is based on a series of interviews with the late Robert Feldman, Monty Feldman's wife Helen, family friends, and fellow musicians who willingly took Barbara into their confidence. It should be born in mind that prior to this the only jazz 'clubs' were 'Societies' or 'Rhythm Clubs' (which of course still exist today) where 78 rpm records were played by a recitalist who discussed a particular aspect of jazz music and illustrated his/her talk musically.

The Feldman story began in Gerrard Street in London's West End in 1942 where two brothers, Robert and Monty Feldman, worked as pattern cutters and designers in a small clothing firm managed by their father Joseph. Robert recalled that 'Business wasn't doing too well and the people in charge just muddled through.' The brothers took respite in listening to the Radio Rhythm Club Sextet led by Harry Parry blaring out of the radio. However, this would only have been a half-hour weekly slot for, according to music promoter Bert Wilcox, 'In those days the BBC saw jazz as second-rate music whose followers consisted of wild women and drug takers.' Robert, a clarinetist and saxophone player inspired by Artie Shaw, and his brother Monty, an accordionist, were becoming increasingly convinced that swing could be made commercial. Their enthusiasm was growing as well as their talent and, at home in Edgware, Middlesex, they were rehearsing with their young brother Victor as The Feldman Trio. The boys made home recordings and played at weddings, bar mitzvahs and youth club dances. They were becoming increasingly popular among local jazz enthusiasts and musicians, principally due to the unlikely talents of their young drummer, eight-year-old Victor.


Having recently moved out to Edgware, to escape the wartime bombing, their neighbor Ronnie Scott was one of many musicians who began to drop by to play with the kid whom he regularly saw in short trousers in the street. riding his tricycle.

Benny Green, who later became Victor's regular room-mate when they toured together with the Ronnie Scott band got to hear the inside story of Victor's beginnings. Victor told him how earlier Monty and Robert had been jamming and becoming increasingly annoyed with their drummer. 'Our kid brother can do better-than. that' they cried. At this point, to everyone's amazement young Victor stole the show - he said he didn't know why he could play, he just could. Benny said - 'He was phenomenal, there has never been anything like it and there never will.'

Little did the brothers know that such an event would create a sensation among musicians, culminating in Victor becoming a child prodigy and finally a top international name in the jazz world. He was groomed for adult stardom by the Harold Davison Agency, whilst American boogie woogie pianist and dancer Maurice Rocco gave him dance lessons. He would go on to play with such stars as Stephane Grappelli, Vic Lewis, Woody Herman and even Glenn Miller's wartime AAAF band, astonishing the musicians with his 10-year-old genius in 1944.

Billy Amstell, former tenor saxist with the famous Ambrose Dance band, recalls that night at the Queensbury Club (a club for wartime servicemen) when the late Ray McKinley, then drummer with the Band of the AAAF. ran up to him crying with shock at having seen and heard young Victor. 'I don't believe it!' he cried as little Victor's drumming lifted the a hole band.

Max Bacon the Feldman's cousin. was the drummer with Ambrose, and he started Victor banging on a child's tin drum when he was as four-years-old. Later he set the ball really rolling by promoting Victor using his contacts and agents. He helped him into major movies: King Arthur Was A Gentleman (with comedian Arthur Askey) and Theatre Royal, where Robert Feldman led the band and wrote the arrangements.. Ted Heath played trombone in that band with George Shearing on piano and Jimmy Skidmore on tenor saxophone among others. Victor was also in the Flanagan and Allen show and starred at The Royal Albert Hall, The London Palladium and The Piccadilly Theatre with Sid Field in Piccadilly Hayride. Meanwhile he was watched over by his increasingly anxious father 'Grandpa' Joseph who begged Benny Green to 'encourage him to get a proper job.'

However, on that cold September night in war-torn London, 1942, Robert and Monty were yet to realise the extent of the creative potential that was beginning to brew around them. Robert switched off the radio, left his pattern cutting and began his journey home. Passing number 100 Oxford Street, a sign indicated Mac's Restaurant. As if hypnotised he went downstairs and he later recalled how there were posts (pillars) all over the place and: 'Suddenly I imagined them turning into palm trees, and I thought to myself, this would make a nice little club.' Old Ma Phyllis, later nicknamed 'The Dragon' by club goers, was the manageress of Mac's and she was only too pleased to charge the young enthusiasts 4 pounds a night to start The Feldman Swing Club. According to Bert Wilcox, she was to become a central figure of the club, 'always licking her lips, bossing everyone around to put their coats in the cloakroom and the only person to make money from the event by charging people 6d (21/2p) for a plate of crisps.'


Despite having tentatively hooked Mac's for three weeks' time, Robert had no capital and no musicians, but he was convinced that swing music could be successfully promoted in a club. Their father, a guiding hand behind Windsmoor Clothing was at first unenthused by his son's brainwave and refused to give financial backing. 'That's not a proper business, do something sensible!' was his initial response and a not unfamiliar one at that, according to Ronnie Scott; 'For those creative Jews who didn't want to be butchers or go into the gown business, to be involved in music would have been one of the few possible ways out of "the ghetto'.' Ironically Joseph was later to become, according to Ronnie, like the Godfather, taking the money at the door with his wife Kitty, and was to form, with Bert Wilcox, The National Organisation For the Promotion of Jazz in Great Britain.

Robert and Monty had to be inventive. The penniless brothers marched towards Archer Street - then the haunt of unemployed musicians--by the Windmill Theatre, where musicians gathered in the streets and surrounding pubs and cafes hoping to be booked for gigs (weddings and dances, etc.). Benny Green and Ronnie Scott were regularly among the crowd. 'On Monday morning there could be as many as 500 people in the street, and every night around midnight, the owner of the Harmony Inn would give Ronnie the key for us to hang out.' Nearby was the American Forces Club, the Queensbury, where Glenn Miller's AAAF band sometimes played. It was to Archer Street that Robert and Monty went to book musicians for their opening night. 'We spoke to the bassist, and said "you're getting 2 pounds 10s? We'll pay you 3.00 pounds to play for us." He agreed, so I told him: 'Get George Shearing, Kenny Baker and six other top musicians!'. Robert then contacted the Melody Maker (then a dance and swing music weekly) and put in the following advert: No. 1 Swing Club ... 100 Oxford Street, opening night, for members only ... Listen and dance to the following line-up: Kenny Baker, Tommy Bromley; Bobby Midgley; Tommy Pollard; Jimmy Skidmore; Frank Weir. Guest artists: The Feldman Trio. Subscriptions 5s. 0d. (25p) per annum to be sent to: The Secretary, Oakleigh Gardens, Edgware. 'The idea' said Robert, 'was that only those who sent their five shillings could get in free on the opening night, and in future it would be 3s. 6.d 'for members and 5s. 0d. for visitors.'

The boys were inundated with enough members to book Mae's for three consecutive weeks. Thus on October 24, 1942 at 7.30pm The Feldman Swing Club was born. According to The Melody Maker, it would provide London enthusiasts with what they had always lacked, a regular home for swing music where they could meet, dance, and listen to jazz music from star players. However, the possibilities of the club were seen as wider than this. Its creation would bring to a climax that hoary old argument once and for all: whether swing can be made commercial. Excitement was in the air.

Helen, who met Monty at the club whilst on a date with an American officer. recalls the opening night. 'The atmosphere was electric with the low ceiling vibrating from the sound. From then on there were queues halfway Oxford Street.’

The club became so popular that it opened on a Saturday as well. Helen describes how Robert and Monty's lives began to change. 'I remember that in fact lots of money was made from the club, enough for the boys to give up their work as pattern cutters. They started to wear silk hand-painted ties, suede shoes and sports jackets. They spent their time booking musicians, filling out PRS (Performing Rights Society) forms and making demos at Carlo Krahmer's lovely recording studios in Tottenham Court Road.'

Until the formation of The Feldman Club the main places to hear live jazz were all night unlicensed clubs known as 'bottle parties' - here licensing laws were evaded by ordering a bottle and having it stored at the off licence close by with your name on it until you wanted it. They were, according to Ronnie Scott, 'peopled by ladies of the night and wartime guards officers out for a good time. . ..’ Here many musicians started their careers. The Feldman Club also allowed dancing and it was here that American Servicemen patronising the club introduced the free-style jiving (jitterbugging) which was then a new improvised style of dancing.


Dance promoter Tony Harrison confirms that 'jitterbuggers' (sic) would often collide with nicely dressed people in the 'posher clubs' and there would be signs saying 'no jitterbugging' or 'no jiving' (later) and if they dared, the owners would say ‘stop, or get out.’  At Feldman's they could relax and dance. There were also Rhythm Clubs -as mentioned in the introduction - where there were also occasional jam sessions. However, dancing was not permitted and a concert atmosphere prevailed.

The Feldman was a club with an open-minded atmosphere that would, according to Tony Harrison, 'open its doors to everybody'. There were no class, racial or religious distinctions, and the average working man earning 2.00 pounds per week could afford the 3s.6d. (l7 ½ p) to get in.

Visiting American musicians would always make a beeline for the club which became the number one place to go, and was advertised as The Mecca of Swing. At one point, Glenn Miller decided to visit the club only to be refused entry until Joseph Feldman himself intervened. However, on other occasions for Joseph this attitude worked to his disadvantage. Guitarist Pete Chilvers, who played with the band every Sunday night, recalls arriving at the door and asking if he could bring in a few pals. 'Any friend of yours is a friend of mine' was Joseph's amicable response. However, Chilvers chuckles, ‘you should have seen his face as I trooped in with an endless line of Yanks.’


Once inside, Chilvers recalls eight-year-old Victor, with braces on his teeth, running up and sitting on his knee, whilst Freddie Crump took the place to pieces playing on his own teeth with drumsticks' into the microphone.  Eighty-year-old bassist Coleridge Good remembers watching little Victor in amazement: 'He was so small his feet were too tiny to reach the drum pedal; he could just touch it with the tips of his toes. He was wonderfully agile.' Such scenes were to last for around ten years.

The club hosted every British jazz musician of note and many Americans including: pianist Mel Powell, drummer Ray McKinley, clarinetist Benny Goodman, saxophonists Art Pepper and Spike Robinson, plus French violinist Stephane Grappelli. British saxophonist Kathy Stobart stresses the importance of the club in jazz history: 'The Feldman Club was the place where we all blossomed and made our contacts; that is where I first met John Dankworth'.


Ballad and blues singer Jimmy James remembers with a nostalgic glaze in his eyes some now famous musicians starting out. 'I can see them there now along the back stage right; there's young Tony Crombie (19), Johnny Dankworth (17), Carlo Krahmer, Phil Seamen (18) and 10-year-old Victor Feldman playing with 17-year-old Ronnie Scott' (this would have been in 1944-Ed). James recalls Glenn Miller's boys (sic) coming down for the big band evening and Joseph, smartly dressed, filming a line of fans with a cine-camera.

Vocalist and percussionist Frank Holder confirms the celebrity status 'Everybody was dying to play there and they knew Robert only went for star names'. He also stresses the importance of the Feldman for black musicians such as himself. 'When I arrived from Guyana in 1944 with the RAF I was hungry for jazz. At Feldman's you could prove yourself and get into the scene. People like Coleridge Goode, Ray Ellington and Lauderic Caton would play there. The guys got to know you and my reputation got around. When there was a sudden influx of blacks with the RAF I was then able to introduce them into jazz. What mattered to Robert and Monty Feldman was that you were musical.'

Guitarist Cliff Dunne recalls 'that there was a real family atmosphere at Feldman's which became an important refuge for Jews and blacks living in wartime London'.

New Orleans style bands such as George Webb's Dixielanders and the Crane River Jazz Band also appeared at the club. George Webb remembers that late in 1943, Ray Sonin the then editor of The Melody Maker, persuaded Robert to book the Dixielanders, who had a large following among traditional fans in greater London. Freddy Mirfield and his Garbage Men (another traditional band from East London) were due to play. Personnel included Freddy Randall (t), Johnny Dankworth (cl) and Dennis Croker on trombone. Croker never got to play however on this special Sunday afternoon as he was injured by a 'Doodlebug' (German flying bomb used to raid London from launch pads in occupied France). Eddie Harvey stood in for him.

The club continued until 1954 but then Robert said he started to lose interest. 'Some weeks it was doing all right, but towards the end, not so much. Other clubs started opening (The London Jazz Club and the Humphrey Lyttelton Club were using the same premises on different nights of the week - Lyttelton was appearing twice per week – Ed.) and there was too much competition. ‘I thought, I'm not taking it on for another year. If there were three new clubs opening I'd end up with a smaller audience and only one top musician, say Johnny Dankworth, and the rest would be just ordinary'.

Robert Feldman decided to try his luck in New York, but this wasn't a great success. He said later: 'It was hopeless.'

Unfortunately the Feldman brothers are no longer with us to give us more details of Robert's New York venture. Joseph died on July 31, 1957, Monty on March 9, 1979 (aged 53); Victor on May 14, 1987 (also 53) and Robert on November 2, 1992 aged 69. However, The Feldman Club is still alive in spirit where jazz still flourishes at The 100 Club and to mature jazz fans it will still be remembered as Feldman's!

(Editor's note: This feature is largely based on information given to Barbara Feldman during interviews, since she is too young to have actually experienced the events described. However, memories dim over the years and it has been necessary to adjust certain reports to conform with known facts and birthdates, etc.)”



Thursday, March 7, 2019

Barend Boy ten Hove - Jazz Caricatures

© -Steven Cerra, copyright protected; all rights reserved.


“During the years after World War II there were a large number of
jazz clubs in Amsterdam. These clubs were of different character.
Some were aimed at blues or at modern jazz, some at traditional
jazz. De 'Amsterdamse Jazz Club' belonged to the latter category.
It existed for nearly ten years.

When it ceased to exist it owned a small sum of money, which was
put into a fund for future use. Several years later the members of
the board decided to apply the fund for projects related to jazz
music.

The first of these [projects] is the publication of the present book
on Boy ten Hove's drawings.

We are proud to be part of the team that made it all possible.”
- Stichting Jazz Beheer [Jazz Management Foundation]  Amsterdam
- Fred Horn
- Paul Habraken

“Boy ten Hove drew and worked at a time that jazz was still hot and was bound to be so. Jazz musicians were expected to play with passion and their music should be accessible. This passion in jazz caught on with a small young audience, which admired the music and idolized its practitioners passionately. Boy ten Hove was one of these admirers and he caught his idols in striking drawings. He could definitely not live on these drawings; neither could a lot of practitioners on playing hot jazz at the time. And yet he drew them, principally out of his devotion to jazz, but it made it easier for him to buy records as well.

Passionate music yields passionate fans. Ate van Delden, having been active for Doctor Jazz Magazine among other things for more than forty years, cannot make a living out of his jazz publications and research either, neither could his illustrious predecessors. It is still pure devotion that has to urge you on. And it wonderfully led to the realization of this book on Boy ten Hove. It is this very passion which has made hot jazz and all its practitioners timeless.”
- Ben Kragting Jr., Chief editor of Doctor Jazz Magazine

Whatever the source for such statistics, let alone how accurate they are, the Jazz listening public is estimated to be 2-3% of those who purchase recorded music, attend performances, or are engaged in other music related activities.

But as is the case with those who hold minority interests relative to the whole, those relatively few Jazz fans are passionate in their devotion to the music and they come to it in various way.

Some play it; some collect recordings; some photograph musicians in action or in portraiture; some paint of illustrate; some sponsor Jazz parties, scholarships, and grants-in-aid; some create and maintain websites and blogs; some become record producers and established their own labels - the list is endless.

But in my experience, limited though it may be, only a very few of Jazz’s devotees draw caricatures.

One of the best Jazz caricatures artists was Barend Boy ten Hove [the “e” is pronounced more like “ah” in English - “Hovah”].

Unfortunately, due to when he worked as an artist and where his work was published, ten Hove’s work is known primarily in Holland and to a few collectors of his work: if you will, he’s a minority within a minority.

Adding to their general lack of awareness was the fact that the ten Hove caricatures were only drawn from 1935-1940 and published in a Dutch Jazz magazine, after which they stopped being created, due largely to the advent of the Second World War in Europe.

The good news is that thanks to the efforts of Ate van Delden, the legacy of the unique artistry of Barend Boy ten Hove [1909-1969] is not lost to posterity for with the help of family members, a grant from a Jazz Foundation [Stichting Jazz Beheer - Amsterdam] and the assistance of the magazine [Doctor Jazz] for which he drew the caricatures, Mr. van Delden has edited a collection of Boy ten Hove’s Caricatures: Drawing of Jazz Musicians 1935-1940 which was published in book form in 2006 by Aprilis.

Barend "Boy" ten Hove (1909-1969) belonged to a circle of Dutch friends who were insiders in the pre-war jazz scene. As a highly talented graphic artist he was a designer for several major Dutch periodicals and a pioneer of comic strips. Jazz was Boy’s hobby. His great opportunity came when one of his friends, Henk Niesen, started to write articles about various aspects of jazz music in Algemeen Handelsblad. a daily newspaper. These articles appeared from 1935 until a few months after the German invasion into The Netherlands in 1940. Boy ten Hove produced drawings of the artists that Niesen would write about. His drawings were also becoming popular in the UK and the USA. The war put an end to this happy period and ten Hove withdrew from the jazz scene. It was not until the 1970s when the interest in his jazz drawings started again. A new public saw them for the first time on the covers of the Dutch Doctor Jazz magazine, and in the form of an exhibition during the annual Breda jazz festival. With the help of several older generation collectors,  editor Ate van Delden built a comprehensive collection of ten Hove's drawings, which forms the basis for this book. The ten Hove family generously provided biographical information about the artist

Ate van Delden (b. Groningen, The Netherlands. 1941) has a university degree in electronics and spent his professional years in marketing. He is the chairman of the Doctor Jazz Foundation, a Dutch organization for the promotion of traditional jazz styles. He has been writing articles about early jazz for over 40 years, both for Doctor Jazz magazine and for other periodicals, He has also written liner notes for several IPs and CDs in this field His interest in the artist Boy ten Hove dates back to the 1980s. He is married and has two sons.

The context for and significance of ten Hove’s work is detailed by Mr. van Delden in the following excerpts from the Introduction to his book.

In case you are wondering where the first name of “Boy” came from, Barend ten Hove was born on March 7, 1909 in Flushing, a seaport in the southwest delta area of The Netherlands. He met his first wife Maria in Amsterdam in 1930 or 1931, According to his son Jan: “He called her ‘Girlie” and she called him ‘Boy.’” According to Mr. van Delden: “From then on Barend has been better known as Boy ten Hove, and this is how we call him from now on.”


“In the course of its ample forty years' existence the cover of the Dutch jazz magazine Doctor Jazz has seen various metamorphoses. For a long time it was graced with a pretty vamp of the Roaring Twenties, taken from the sheet music of the song Birmingham Bertha. After that, in 1973, the style changed. The cover of issue number 60, in June of that year, showed a fine, somewhat cubist drawing of Fats Waller, drawn, as the signature indicates, by B. ten Hove. This stood for Barend 'Boy' ten Hove. With it the interest in this artist was roused again, almost forty years after he had made these drawings and caricatures.

In 1979 this renewed interest culminated in the form of an exhibition of his jazz-related work by the Jazz Ten Toon foundation in Breda, The Netherlands. The exhibition counted twenty-nine caricatures, the greater part of his oeuvre insofar it was known until then. Then publicity died on him once again. Meanwhile the search for his other work continued and with good results. More than 200 drawings, of which mainly caricatures of over 100 musicians, have come to light. Besides, a considerable number of other illustrations have been found, some of which are associated with jazz. But there may still be more. Some magazines published ad hoc work by Ten Hove that has not been found yet. There may be collectors who own unpublished drawings that ten Hove exchanged for jazz records. Although it is a pity that hardly any original drawings of all this material are known, the number of drawings known is still increasing. [I know of two originals in the archives of De Spaamestad publishers, and five with a jazz collector in The Hague. In England there are some in the Max Jones archives, and in the USA in jazz promoter Milt Gabler's estate.]

On the occasion of the exhibition a leaflet had been written, telling something about ten Hove. But there is still room for a definitive biography and therefore I did not only look for his drawings but I also tried to find more details about his person. I owe the following story of Boy's life in particular to his brother Ab, his son Jan, and his daughter Berti.

Dolf Rerink, my long-time partner in the Doctor Jazz Foundation, and I interviewed Ab ten Hove on 1 February 1994 in the presence of his wife Karla. Ab consistently referred to his brother as Barend, not as Boy. He had prepared himself very well for this conversation: he had found photographs and he had even written down a brief history of Barend's life.

Jan and Berti came to visit me in Geldrop in August 1997. They, too, contributed facts and photographs. They still possess some of their father's work, but unfortunately no caricatures of jazz musicians. Both of them were so kind as to write down some facts about their father. In a later stage Ten Hove's daughter [from a different marriage] Sylvie also contributed material.

What you will read here are mainly the results of conversations with the ten Hove family, and of further research in various magazines and newspapers.

The Netherlands discovered jazz during the 1920s. Around 1930 there were numerous youngsters who danced to jazz sounds and several of them started collecting 'hot' records. Barend ten Hove was one of these. He was a member of those initiated whose interest and knowledge in 1931 resulted in the first Dutch jazz magazine De Jazzwereld.

I am very grateful for the help of those who provided me with biographical material or drawings by Boy ten Hove. But for their cooperation the present book would not have seen the light of day. Their names can be found on page 353 under the heading "Acknowledgements". I also thank Fred Horn, Jan Mulder and Peter Rijkhoff. Fred saw about a small team to produce the book, and kept an eye on the business aspects. He, too, was responsible for the format of the book. His contribution went even further, as you can see on the next pages. Jan provided the translations and was responsible for the quality of the English language. Peter's experience as a graphic artist was essential in reconstructing an often mediocre reproduction in a magazine or newspaper into a usable image. Even more visible is his general design of the book and the layout of the pages. Both Fred and Jan provided numerous corrections to the musicians' biographies. I have never realized that so many artists used so many different names and birth dates."
Ate van Delden Geldrop, July 2005


In a Preface to Mr. van Delden’s Introduction, Jan ten Hove [Boy’s son from his first marriage] had this to say about his father:

"When thinking of my father, I see a lovable man before me, whose life mainly consisted of working hard. The fear of not having enough financial means was a specter to him. That is why he did not always fulfill his role as a father. He was a shy and timid man. Though highly talented he was not self-assured, but he knew that his work was very much appreciated. He was absolutely convinced of this, he liked doing it and so it was hard to stop him.

I was eleven when my parents divorced (1947) but these eleven years were of inestimable value for me. We generally lived in the back room and my father worked in the front room. Through a chink in the sliding doors we saw his back, bent over his drawing board. This would continue till deep into the night. I should add that he did not start working until late in the morning. He was a night person. On his left there was a gramophone and every three minutes another 78 rpm record was started. Mostly jazz music and from time to time alternating with Mozart or Rachmaninov. It was not allowed for us children to come into the front room and disturb him. There was one exception: I (Jantje, four years old at the time) was allowed to sit next to him and see another new drawing come into being. I was talented, he said, and he would give me a piece of paper and set me a task. I have learned much from him and until today I still pursue the same trade as my father. Of course times and techniques are changing. My father mostly worked with India ink, or he painted in watercolors, in which he was an absolute master. When I was twenty and discussing the new techniques t used, such as air brush, he said: "Should you really do that? It's so difficult. It’ll take so much time." This is what I mean with "he was a timid man".

In addition to the illustrations that he made for magazines, books and dust covers, he was of course very busy with caricatures of musicians, mostly in the jazz scene. Also he did some booking work by bringing well-known musicians to The Netherlands. As a result life at home was quite varied. Jazz musicians from America used to come to our home and they would often spend the night there as well. In fact, as a child I often sat on the laps of the greats of jazz.

All in all I only really lived with my father till my eleventh year, but it was enough to leave a deep impression on me. I will never forget him.”
- Jan ten Hove

And in a second Introduction, Ditmer Weertman of the Dutch Jazz Archive put forth these observations;

“An artist with a great interest in jazz music, who was well-known all over the world: That was Boy ten Hove. With his beautiful caricatural style he made lots of drawings of "hot" jazz musicians. And they liked it: Chick Webb put ten Hove's drawing on his bass drum.

This makes it even more surprising that so few people in the Netherlands took notice of this artist. Apart from an exhibition in 1979, (which initiated the more thorough research which is the foundation of this book), his drawings were hardly ever shown. Even our quite extensive Jazz Bulletin on Dutch jazz history lacks any reference to this artist. All this is probably due to the fact that Boy lived his "jazz life" mainly before the war. It is during that time that he was active in the jazz scene and made most of his drawings. After the war he seemed to have disappeared from the scene.

When we look at his caricatures today, the great comic quality catches the eye. For example the Strange Fruit drawing of Billie Holiday is of great tension, which perfectly matches the strong feeling of the song as performed by her. And some of the drawings are in compliance with the trend of the fifties, which can also be seen in comics by for example Joost Swarte.

Therefore it is of great value that the making of this book was initiated and, more important, that it has been realised. I hope that this will lead to a renewed and widespread enthusiasm for this great Dutch 'Jazz Artist.’”


Mr. van Delden completes his introduction by asking three artists their opinion of ten Hove’s work in a section entitled “Present Appreciation.”

“Ten Hove's caricatures belong to a different age but they are still widely appreciated among the jazz public of newer generations. His work is also liked by other artists. Interestingly some of them, like ten Hove himself, combine a love for jazz with a profession as a graphic designer. We have asked three of these to give an impression of Ten Hove's work. All three were born during the thirties, the period during which Ten Hove made his drawings.

Louis Debij is a drummer. He noted that the quality of Ten Hove's work was quite inconsistent. Some of his drawings were substandard, while others were of the highest level. He thinks that this has to do with ten Hove's different drawing styles, his work in Rhythm being particularly fine. In Debij's opinion his technique of making line drawings was not always correct, but graphically his work is excellent.

Martien Beenen also is a drummer and as a graphic artist he works in a more abstract style [than Louis Debij]. He disagrees with Debij about ten Hove's technique and believes it was fully adequate for what ten Hove wanted to express. Beenen stated that Ten Hove's approach of giving a person a large head and a small body was typical for his time. Like Debij, Beenen noticed various approaches in ten Hove's work, such as the wash pen drawings for Willie Lewis and Willie Smith, and what could be described as a sculptor's technique for the drawings in Rhythm. Ten Hove's combination of India ink with pencil was quite unique. Beenen agrees with Louis Debij that ten Hove must have had a very good feeling for the graphic elements of his work, judging the quality of the reproductions, even in newspapers.

The third person we asked was Frits Muller, who creates political cartoons and as a jazz musician is a reed player. His first impression when seeing these drawings was a feeling of sadness, since they concern musicians who were part of his life. But he also noticed Boy ten Hove's great talent as a portrait artist. Whether it was a detailed portrait, like the caricatures in Rhythm, or a simple drawing consisting of a few lines, it showed the subject's personality. In Muller's view even a drawing that looks sketchy was carefully planned and executed by ten Hove. The various drawings show that he was a real professional. He had a multitude of techniques at hand to reach his artistic goal.

It is a pleasant thing to see that there is still a large public appreciating ten Hove's art. His subjects, the jazz people of his time, still have a large following. Books, LPs and CDs have been published about them, and will be in the future. Ten Hove's drawings have enlivened the covers of [some of those] books and records and are still being used [to illustrate articles and books], notably his caricatures of Bix Beiderbecke, Duke Ellington, Frank Trumbauer and Clarence Williams. Ten Hove would have loved to see this happen.”