All language subtitles for The.Girls.In.The.Band.2011.1080p.WEBRip.x264.AAC-[YTS.MX]ENG

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You know,
you look at this picture
and it’s just amazing.

This was
the Golden Era of jazz.

That photo was
the pinnacle
of jazz in the 50’s.

There are all these guys,
these famous jazz musicians.

Count Basie, Sonny Rollins,

Horace Silver, Dizzy Gillespie,

Gene Krupa, Gerry Mulligan,

Lester Young, Charles Mingus,

Thelonius Monk
and Coleman Hawkins.

That’s a good combination,
Monk and Hawk.

And then there’s
these two women.

But who are they?

Hardly anybody knows.

There is nothing like
the joy of playing music

My name is Clora Bryant.

I’m a trumpetiste.

Oh, yes, it’s always
a surprise to have
girl musicians.

I’m Viola Smith. I'm a drummer.

There were no women
with any of the big bands.

I was the first one
as far as I know.

My name is Billie Rogers
and I played the trumpet.

I played with
the greatest female band
ever, ever.

Hi, I’m Rosalind Cron and I play
alto sax, clarinet and flute.

Well, if you don’t
feel it, forget it. Because you
can’t play jazz

unless you feel it in here.

My name is Peggy Gilbert
and I play saxophone.

I knew I was going
to play the trumpet.

My mother played piano
and my father played violin.

My mother played the greatest
old ragtime jazz piano you’d
ever want to hear.

Every one of us had to be...
just think of nothing
but music, music.

We used to sit by
the Atwater Kent radio

and listen to the music coming
out of the hotels around Boston.

My dad would take us
to the dances

and stand outside the dance hall
with me on his shoulder.

And I would look through
the window and see
the trumpet players

and they would be playing
the trumpet, you know,
and do wah, do wah, do wah,

do way and I liked that.

And my father wanted me to find
a sound that I liked and that’s

what I would learn to play.
So we listened and one night
I said, "Oh, I like that."

And that was the saxophone.

I started to play saxophone

when I was a senior
in high school.

They didn’t have
many girls on instruments.

They were violins,
harpists, pianists.

When I was about 9

we started a family band

with mother on piano
and dad on his instruments,

my older brother on his,

and I did the vocals
and played my trumpet.

They wanted me to play violin.
Well, I’m kind of lazy.

I said, "No, I don’t feel like
holding a violin on my shoulder
all day long.

I want to play something else."

He said, "Well, what do you
want to play?"

I said, "I’d like to play
trombone. I like to see that
slide go up and down."

I was one of
eight sisters in
a family orchestra.

I happened to be the sixth one
in the family. It was time for
a drum to be added.

so I was very fortunate.

It was the easiest thing in
the world, rather than play
an instrument all night long

like the rest of
the girls had to do.

In high school, I wanted to
get to the football games,

and I thought that was
a good way to do it,
so I joined.

And they said, "How about this,
do you want to play this?"

And I said," I don’t care,
what is it?

It was a trombone.

I never, ever saw
another girl do what I did.

I was in my twenties before
I even saw another girl
play a trumpet.

I saw women saxophone players

once when I was
about 11 or 12 years old.

My dad read in the paper that
at the Metropolitan Theater
where they had vaudeville,

they had a new act.

And because they played
the saxophone he probably
thought

I would really get
a kick out of this.

There were the Siamese twins
joined at the back

all the time on roller skates

playing the saxophone.

This is a picture I’ve never
forgotten in my entire life.

When I was coming up,

it was way back in
the vaudeville era, I had
an eight-piece girl band.

I was the bandleader and in
those days there were little
or no girl musicians.

There was Phil Spitalny and
a couple of big bands that
people today never heard of.

It was difficult for
the individual musicians
to get booked by the male bands.

There was just an unwritten law

that they wouldn’t
hire the women.

Well I was substituting
for a man one time

and they called me and asked me
if I could jump in
and I said, "Certainly."

So I did.

and the leader
wanted to keep me,

and all the men in the band got
together and talked the leader
out of it, because he said,

"We don’t want a girl around,
we can’t talk the way
we want to talk,

and we can’t do things
we want to do,

and we just don’t want
girl musicians. And besides
they can’t play very well.

You put a bunch of
musicians behind a curtain

and who’s going to tell me who's
the female playing or who’s
the male playing.

You can’t do that.
The music is the thing.

That’s the important thing.

Piano players yes,

bassists maybe, guitar maybe.

But mostly piano.
They would not...

When you put the horn up
to your lip or in your mouth,

that was it.

They would not call you.

I knew then

I had to get a girl band,
because there was
no chance otherwise.

And I had many
wonderful musicians

to work with out here.
The place was loaded with ’em.

There were a lot of girl bands.
Ina Ray Hutton,

Sweethearts of Rhythm,
Ada Leonard...

Ada Leonard
I worked with on TV

for a year at the same time
that Ina Ray Hutton was

at another studio.

And so I just played
with those bands

until I got the lay of the land
and knew what was going on.

Many of the brilliant
stars of stage,

screen and radio are graduates
of the Broadway night clubs.

One of the most glamorous of
these is that pretty
little spitfire of syncopation,

Ina Ray Hutton.

Ina had really
good arrangers, always.

She admired Ellington and Basie

and we had good musicians,
and it was a good band.

Here’s me playing in
front of the Ina Ray band.

She had great rhythm
and knew what she wanted,

but she was not a musician.
There was nothing
that she could play.

But she was a great dancer.

She was really a good dancer.

We had this band that allowed us
to go and play at
the different fraternities

and sorority dances
for blacks in those days.

Piney Woods School was a place
for underprivileged
black children,

they got a better education.

Mr. Jones saw Phil Spitalny’s
group and said,

"Well I have enough girls
here that play instruments.

Why don’t I start
a girls’ band too?"

Mr. Jones,

had some Mexican girls that he
let come to Piney Woods
to go to school.

We also had
a Chinese girl there, and so

one of the people
that worked there said,

"So why don’t you call it
The International
Sweethearts of Rhythm?

Because you got
different nationalities."

So that’s how we got
the name International
Sweethearts of Rhythm.

Anna Mae Winburn
was the director of the band.

She was like
a front for the orchestra,

for the band.
She looked great all the time.

I had
a male band in Omaha, Nebraska

called Anna Mae Winburn
and the Cotton Club Boys.

Then here come the Sweethearts
to Omaha and I said,
oh gee, aren’t they cute?

You know, these beautiful,
little innocent girls,
you know.

So they said, "Rae Lee Jones

wants somebody to direct
the Sweethearts of Rhythm."

I said, "Gee, I don’t know if
I can get along with
that many women or not."

Anna Mae Winburn
was like a mother figure to us.

She helped us
in meeting the public,

mainly keeping
away from the men.

And the fact of the matter,
she taught us the facts of life.

I knew Mary Lou Williams
very well.

She was a wonderful human being

and I admired her
because she was one
of the best players.

Her style covered from ragtime
to bebop and beyond that.

I mean, she was
with Andy Kirk’s band.

That was a fine band of that
period, and she arranged
for them, she played for them.

She was marvelous.

By the time Mary Lou was 15
and 16, she is
the consummate professional.

She is playing with some of
the top bands of that time.
McKinney Cotton Pickers,

which was one of the top groups
to come out of
that Midwest experience.

When Mary Lou comes into
the whole Andy Kirk
Organization,

she is caught between
two worlds in many ways.

Because Mary Lou has come
out of this Black
urban experience
that is rooted

very much in this
Southern vernacular culture,

and she moves
to this Midwest environment,

where the concepts of racial
consciousness
are very different for Blacks.

So you get someone like
Andy Kirk whose aspirations were
to be the black Guy Lombardo,

He didn’t want to be
stigmatized and marginalized
in the way that

Black bands were being
at that time.

He wanted to do
the full range of
Big Band music.

Without Mary Lou’s
arrangements,

and without Mary Lou kind
of serving as the engine
of the rhythm section,

Andy Kirk’s sound would
not have moved outside
of those regional circles
of the Midwest.

She was literally
the lady who swung the band.

My junior year in
high school is when they got,

when they brought in
the new innovations
with the bands,

the marching band
and the swing band.

So that is the way I started.
My band director

had gone to college with
a man who was teaching Band

at Prairie View College.

And they had an all-girl band,
and he needed
a trumpet player.

So, that’s where I went.

And here’s a great picture of me
taken in a hotel room.
This was a publicity thing.

When I was playing trombone,
Tommy Dorsey was it.

And then I met him.

I had a one-nighter
with Tommy Dorsey.

How about that?

Not the best I ever had.

That was
an exciting time.
But you always
had that one thing

to confront you.

The agent would
come up to me and say,
"We can’t use that girl.

She’s - you gotta get
somebody that looks better.

And don’t forget
to smile at the women."

How could you smile

with a horn in your mouth?

I did get a call from
the Ada Leonard Orchestra

which was rehearsing and going
to open at the Oriental
Theater in Chicago,

and I said, "Yes, yes,"
and I was so excited.

After some rehearsals that
week we were shown our costume,

and out comes this

God-awful pink thing
with flounces.

And it had all these flares
and pink ruffles
and I was mortified.

I’m a professional. I wear
a skirt, a sweater or a blouse,

a white blouse with
a little black tie.
I don’t wear

pink ruffles. And I, I hated
that gown with a passion.

Females were not looked on in
the same, with the same
attitude -

shall we use
the word "attitude"?

...as male musicians were.

Well,most of them
treated us as novelties.

Unusual, and people thought
it was cute, you know.

On our first show
when the curtain went up

the audience went insane.

They were clapping and stomping
and carrying on and whistling.

We hadn’t really played
much. We’d only played
a couple of notes.

And so after it died down
and then an act came on,

I sort of whispered
to the girl next to me,

"Why the big reception?"
And she told me,"Well, Ada
was a striptease artist."

Oh, I thought
that was hilarious.

We all had to have
long hair, and we could not
be seen with saddle shoes.

To be wearing saddle shoes
meant we must be gay.

Men’s bands always
wore the same uniforms.

The guys can have white hair
and glasses
and weigh 300 pounds,

but if they can play, great.
The girls they want
to look like
a bunch of young starlets.

And the things they
put on us were unbelievable.

I played for a short time
with Georgie Graham’s Big Band

and he was playing in New York
when he heard about

the International
Sweethearts of Rhythm

and the manager,
Mrs. Raley Jones, asked if he
knew of a saxophone player

and so he thought
of me immediately.
He called me up.

He introduced me to Mrs. Jones
on the phone and, and

she did mention that
it was a Colored big band,

and would I have
any problems? No problems.

I told my mom and dad.
And I didn’t ask them,
I more or less told them.

They knew I was chomping at
the bit. I just had to go
back on the road.

I walked in and there was
everybody in the band, getting
ready for the night’s gig.

And I was going to wear

a skirt and a white blouse
and a jacket.

and there was this magnificent
brass section behind me
and rhythm section,

and I just knew I -

I was in the right place.

It was a lot of fun.

The fun lasted until
we started doing one-nighters

in the South.

Anna Mae mentioned
something to the effect

that we’re going
to Jim Crow country.

I had been in the south
with Ada Leonard.

Nobody had mentioned
this man’s name.

Of course I’d never met him.
So, I guess I’m going to
meet him now.

And then I learned
that Jim Crow is a set of laws

that was set up to
keep Black people

as far removed from whites
as humanly possible.

They wouldn’t stand
for us mixing.

I was dying to get hold of
a girl one time that was
a trumpet player

and she was just great.

and I wanted to put her
in the band, you know?

And they said, "We can’t do it
because there are
a lot of people

that would object
to a mixed racial band."

Well, traveling through
the South was something
you’d really like to forget,

some of the experiences
you had, you know. Like

we’d pull into a service station
and the guy would come out with
his gun and say we don’t

have any Black toilets.
You need to go out
in the field and squat.

The band had its own bus,

upper and lower berths
like a Pullman car.

And that was
our home on wheels.

Had a little bathroom
in the back.

There was great danger for
the band, for everybody in
the band, for our bus driver.

We all found it was much easier
if I just stayed, in very
dangerous places, in the bus.

I also remember
some places they
would accept you,

some places didn’t
have room
for you, you know.

If we didn’t sleep on the bus,
we wouldn’t have
a place to stay.

We played theaters,
we played dance halls.

If we were in a theater,

the white folks would
be downstairs

and the ropes would be
dividing the Blacks
and the Whites.

Everything was
segregated. Everything.

There could be no
fraternization
between the races.

The problems of traveling
in the South were the same

for male bands
as they were for female bands.

But the women had it a lot
rougher, just because
they were women.

There were always
a group of women who
would open their homes

to traveling musicians,
and they were saints.

There was never a question

that I couldn’t stay in their
homes, even though
it was putting them

in grave danger.

Real jeopardy.

There were times on
bandstands when it became

pretty tricky because
I was right there

in the front row playing alto.

There was no way
to hide my face.

Well, in those days there was
a lot of bedroom integration.

And there were a lot of
black girls that had
white parents, you know, I mean,

so - I’m black,

my mother’s black. You wanna go
see her? And they said, "No, we
don’t want to go see

your mother, we want to know,
you know, what nationality
you are."

Mrs. Jones thought that possibly
the girls could come up
with a way to

either darken my skin,
or make it
a shade that would be -

not be off-putting to sheriffs

who were sniffing around,
trying to determine if
I was white or not.

Ah, and we tried different
face powders and really

it - I just turned orange
for the most part.

See, we had so many
mixed girls in the band,
you know.

The police came and he says to
my husband - my husband was
manager at that time -

and he says,

"You have white girls
in this band."

And my husband said,
"If you can pick out
the one that’s white
and you arrest them."

And the one he picked out
was the mulatto.

He never did pick out
the white one, you know.

Soon we’re heading
back to the Williams house
for sweet potato pie.

"We get lots of hugs from
Mrs. Williams, and a bag
of food for each of us.

As we climb aboard the bus
she calls, "Bye, chillen.

Y’all take care of each other
and we’ll pray to the good
Lord to look after you."

I reach out through
the open bus window,

grab Mrs. Williams’ hand
and say, "I know how much
courage it took for you to take
me into your home

and I will never forget you."

And I’ve not forgotten."

Those were rough days.

Rough times. Scary times.

I was surrounded by
the girls with so much love

and then so many times
I felt so embarrassed
for my race,

so humiliated by them.
I wanted to lash out at them.

And of course I couldn’t.

Well, why don’t you
and the girls warm up
for the jam session.

Okay, suits me.
Let’s take it, girls.

The white world was
completely unaware of us.

Not only were we told,
but we knew, we were the best.

But we couldn’t
get that point across

because we couldn’t play
the places that we
wanted to play.

I played with
the Ada Leonard band

one show, and then

after that, the next day,

they said the studio
had gotten all these calls.

This TV show that
was doing real good,

they had gotten calls
to get the nigger
off the show.

I didn’t have a solo,

but they didn’t want me
up there in the band.

That was a hurting thing.

Yesterday,

December 7,

1941,

a date which will
live in infamy.

When the war came along,
and all the men
were gone practically,

the musicians were

scarce to find then

I got a lot of work.

We have a right to be proud of
the part American women
are playing in this war.

We found that the hand that
rocks the cradle can build
bombers, make ammunition,

can turn every kitchen
into a salvage station

for vitally needed
war materials.

There is a job for each
and every one of us and it is
our duty to find that job.

I remember during the war there
were a lot of girl musicians

with the male bands.
Billie Rogers was
with Woody Herman.

In 1941, I headed down
toward California.

And some friends of mine
had put a band together,

three other gals out at
a club in Culver City.

In a very short period of time,

we were practically
packing the joint every night.

One night Woody Herman’s
road manager came into the club.

And he invited me over to
his table for a drink
during intermission,

and told me Woody was looking
for some kind
of special attraction

to take on the road with him
when they headed East.

Arrangements were made for me
to go to the recording studio

and audition in front
of Woody and the band.

I just sang a couple of songs,
and played my horn

and Woody hired me.

Surprise, Woody hired me.

All of us were playing
ballrooms and theaters
and everything.

On my left are
the Sweethearts of Rhythm,
one of America’s top
all-girl bands,

directed by Anna Mae Winburn.
Jack, they are ready.

- Are you ready girls?
- Yeah!

The black
servicemen heard us

all over the Far East
and Europe,

and they were so excited
about hearing
a black female band,

that they wanted us.
They just bombarded the USO.

We played a lot
of USO camps
for the Armed Service.

We got to
Le Havre, France.

We played the Olympia
Theater in Paris.

Then we went on for
five and a half months.

We drove through snow
and rain and what have you.

And we met
the most wonderful men,

white and Black.

That’s when we
discovered Quartermasters.

They really outfitted us.
They gave us long johns,

underwear, mittens
and wool caps.

Everything we needed to
get through a German winter.

We played all
the military bases,

but when we played Tuskegee,

we played for
the Tuskegee Airmen.

And they had just become
selected as the ones
who would escort

the white fliers in Italy.

It had rained, and so we
couldn’t walk in the mud,
you know,

with the high heel shoes
and stuff like that.

And so we had to be
picked up by these guys.

I had never been in
a man’s arms.
Oh, my goodness.

I can’t explain to you how
I felt. That felt so good.

It was the most
exciting time ever, ever.

I felt like a sweetheart.

I joined USO

and everybody would say, oh,
you’re going to love working
with the Americans

and I did. That’s where I met
my husband, Jimmy McPartland.

Finally the war ended
and we came to The States.

We went overseas on
a liberty ship

and came back
on a victory ship.

We came back with 3,000 GI’s.

The war was over.

Seven of us left
the Sweethearts
the day we embarked

on the ship taking us
back to New York.

The band was together
for over 15 years,

and after we came
back from Germany

and everything the girls
wanted to do
something different.

Our, our drummer got married.

And different girls wanted
to do different things,
you know.

They thought, "Well, it’s
time for us to move on."

When I returned home
there was really no work for me
because the young soldiers
were coming back.

We were playing
the Figueroa Ballroom

and one time we
came back to work

and all our instruments
and music and everything
was in disarray.

And I said, I went
to the boss and said,
"What’s happened here?"

And he said,
"Well, the band’s coming back.

"They were here today
and they had a rehearsal."

And he said Peg,
"You know how it is.

I told them when they got out
of service they could
come back to work."

I said, "You mean we don’t even
get a two week notice?"
And he said,"No."

And that’s what
happened in a lot of places.

This was the end
of that wonderful era.

Some of them
continued with the girls,

but it seems that a lot of girls
had to go back to the kitchen.

Mary Osborne
is one of the best guitarists
of all time.

Wonderful guitarist.

She gave up a wonderful
television show she
had in New York,

moved to Bakersfield of all
things because her husband
got a job there.

And she looked
after her two kids

and never did receive
the acclaim she should have.

There was a fellow that
wrote a big, long,
almost full-page letter

about how bad girl
musicians were.

And I read that article,
and I couldn’t stand it.

You know from a physical
standpoint it would seem
that women in music

do best when they
play the piano

and this is probably because it
takes less physical effort
to play the piano

than, say, a wind instrument
or for that matter, the drums.

That’s just a theory,
of course,
but the fact remains that

there are quite a few girls
playing mighty good piano,

but almost none
that play good trumpet.

Tonight’s special
guest star of jazz

is probably just about
the best of the whole lot.

Her name is Marian McPartland.

There was a lot of music on
the BBC, and I would just sit
down and play everything.

I know millions of tunes that
I’ve never seen the music to.

I was about four,
I suppose,

and they made a great fuss
of me that I could play

and I played from then on.
I played in kindergarten
for the kids.

I became a real ham.

I was offered a job by

a man named Billy Mayo who
wanted me to join his
four piano vaudeville act.

And of course I was
thrilled to do that

And I went and told my mother,
and father and they hated

the idea that I would
do anything so
low down.

And think of
the terrible people you’ll meet.

And you’ll marry a musician
and live in an attic.
my mother sobbed.

And of course, that’s what
I did do much later on.

My husband Jimmy
was a well known

trumpet player in Chicago.
When we arrived in New York,

Jimmy wanted to show
me all the jazz places.

And I sat in, to let everybody
know I knew all the tunes.

When I was at
The Hickory House

I could see I was
in the middle of this

kind of male chauvinism thing,

where male musicians
didn’t want to work with women.

They had the idea
that their playing was

delicate and frilly
and all that
ridiculous stuff. In fact,

people used to pay me
a compliment, they
thought it was:

"You play well for a girl."

I said, "I know some
men that sound like girls."

I didn’t name any names,

- but there were some.
- We have to understand that

the men felt that they,
this was their domain.

Now first of all, to them,
a woman, if she’s going to do
anything in the band,
should have been a singer.

Go out front, be cute
and sing a song.

And if you were
a musician, you were a man.

If you were a woman anywhere
around the band you were
a singer.

To be an instrumentalist?

No, no, no, no.
You don’t belong in that world.

Vi Redd was a woman
I admired greatly.

A lot of people said that she
was the female Charlie Parker.

She wasn’t the female anything.
She was a very,
very excellent player.

She had her own identity that
didn’t get a chance to develop

so that she could make the same
kind of contribution that many
of her male counterparts

were doing at that time.

And that had to
be frustrating for her.

Some of the most powerful
players that I’ve ever heard

were women jazz players.

For anyone to say that
they are not playing -

not swinging as hard,
or have the same
kind of force

in their playing,
it’s not true.

It’s simply not true.

Honestly, did you
consider that you’re working
under a handicap

to try to make a profession
as a jazz pianist as a woman?

Well, it has never been
a handicap Gene, truly.
And I really don’t
think about it.

I think of myself as a musician
working with other musicians.

I’ve never -

As a matter of fact,
now that I consider it myself,
I think it’s a great advantage
since you’re so decorative.

Lil Armstrong and I were
pretty good friends
at that time.

She was married to
Louis Armstrong.
Even she had a tough time.

We went
to live in Chicago

and she invited me
to her house.

She played for me
and I played for her.

And she wrote some
very good tunes,
one of which was

a standard tune that
everybody plays,
"Just for a Thrill".

Lil Hardin was a very important
influence for, for you know,
the whole history of music.

The Hot Five,
that was her group

that she really had
conceptualized, in terms
of how the band functioned.

And Louis Armstrong,
as her very innovative,

brilliant husband, became
the leader of that group.
But that was her group first.

I don’t know
why Lil Armstrong
didn’t get as much

recognition as Louis did.

Amazingly enough,
she died while playing.

She just fell off
the bench and died.

And I must say it’s
a wonderful way to die,
if you have to die.

In those days
you traveled by train

or by car, by bus.

We eventually made
our way to New York.

My whole life had just
changed so much,
practically overnight.

Going into New York,
let me tell you about that.

I knew the reputation
of the Apollo Theater.

And to be backstage,

and then I had a solo.
The first number

was called "Back Beat Boogie".

Harry James’ recording of it.

We did stock arrangements,
and you played it
note for note.

Rat dat dat dat,
dat dat dat dat,
I had to walk downstage

with this long dress on.

My knees were shaking, you know,
but I had a long dress on
so they couldn’t see it.

Dah dah dah deed ah,
dah dee dah dee dah.

You know, I knew it note for
note. And I still remember
the whole solo.

52nd Street in New York
was really wild.

It was a legendary
time with legendary
musicians in almost

every, every joint in town.

And Art Tatum
was there,

Joe Venutti, Billie Holiday
was in one of the places.

Dizzy Gillespie was working in
one of those little nightclubs
in New York at the time,

and he invited me Uptown to
a jam session at Minton’s,
which was

where everybody went
after work every night.

New York was an exciting town.

There wasn’t anything that
you couldn’t, you couldn't hear.

You could find jazz of any kind
or any place in town.

We were working
the Hotel New Yorker,

and Woody came to me
during the intermission

and asked if I would like to
sit up in the trumpet section.

Well, needless to say,
I wasn’t about to
turn that down.

Well, the lead trumpet player
decided, I think, that he was
going to get rid of me but fast.

He set up this ridiculous riff,

you know, using
the derby hat

and the derby hat was going up,
it was going down,
it was going sideways

and everything
he could think of.

Well, surprise, surprise.
I kept up with him.

And from that day on, I sat in
the trumpet section.

I never, ever went
down in front
of the band again.

We all owe a debt to
Woody Herman for opening
the door to women in jazz.

Sy Oliver,
who was one of our old,
well known musicians

and composers, his orchestra
was the house band up
at the Rainbow Room.

Now he was looking for someone
to sub for his regular
bass player after the first set.

Sy called me and said,
"Carline, come here a minute,
I want to talk to you."

And I said to myself,
"Uh oh, he’s firing me."

He said to me,
"You know I’m known to

not like women musicians.
But, I have to say that you’ve
changed my mind about that."

Charlie Parker
came to the Lighthouse
to see Max Roach.

My club was right next door
where I was working, so

I would always go on
my intermission, I would go
over there to the Lighthouse
and check on the guys.

And this day Charlie was there
and I spoke to him
that afternoon,
and I went back to my job.

Next thing I know,
here he comes in the club

and he looked like
the Pied Piper because
he’s bringing the whole audience
from the Lighthouse behind him.

When he came up on
the stage he was saying,

"Clora, he said, "you know
I love you and I love
the way you play.

What do you want
to play, Clora?"

And they were surprised
that he knew who I was.

I said, "Well,
let’s play some
’Now's the Time’."

So we played that, you know,
and I got through
and I played. Oh yeah,
I could play.

This picture was the first
picture I ever took
with Dizzy Gillespie.

I met him in person.
This was 1957

’cause I had made
my album then.

As a mentor, Dizzy
was the best because

I could ask him anything.

He wants to see me
learn this music

and get out there.

After I’d been with the band,

oh, probably about half a year,
there was an incident involving

a married man on the band
and another woman.

And when all this
finally came to light,

one of the guys in the band
came to me and said,

"How long have you
known about this?"

And I said, "I knew about it
from the very beginning."

And their attitude changed.

I think they finally realized
that they could trust me.

That boys could be boys out on
the road, and I wasn’t going to
go back and blab to their wives

about what they were doing.

And from then on it
was pretty easy sailing.

I guess you remember
that picture,
a great day in Harlem.

Nat Hentoff invited me.
He came running in

and said there’s this
great photo shoot
tomorrow up in Harlem.

And he gave me
the address and he ran out.

And Jimmy, I could kill him,
he laid in bed,
he did not get up.

I couldn’t get him up.

He said,

"It’s too fucking early."

Mary Lou and I somehow
gravitated together.

We hadn’t seen each
other in quite a while

and she was telling me
about a gig or something
she had done.

I used to go and see her
at a place called The Cookery.

And I always knew I would hear
something new and different.
She always wanted to

kind of have an edge that
nobody else had reached yet.

Mary Lou Williams,
she went through some things

that woman had to do,

but by being a good writer
and composer

I think she was able
to overcome

a little bit more than
what I was able to overcome.

She would write
for Tommy Dorsey
and for Benny Goodman
and for whomever.

All of these
great musicians would
all go to her apartment.

It was like
a laboratory, a salon.

She was a centerpiece
for the music.

What she represents
is a fierce sense of self

and being able
to hold onto that,

but then transcend era
at the same time.

So this is a woman
who worked consistently

in a punishing,
unforgiving environment

of one-nights, of
people wanting you to be on,

people wanting you to be
what they wanted you to be,

that really
took a toll on her.

She gave up the music.
Here was one of
the great musicians in jazz

and nobody was paying any
attention to her.
She was working, of course,

because she was good
and people wanted to hear her.

But that wasn’t enough for her,
and it shouldn’t have
been enough for the public.

She walked out
of this Parisian nightclub

and for three years, no one
knew where Mary Lou was.

I can’t imagine why we
were the only women
in that picture, because

there were scads
of them around.

There was Melba Liston -
I don’t know where she was.

Melba Liston was
a remarkable musician, because
what she did was so musical

and what she did
was done so well.

You want to talk about great...
She was a great trombone player

and a great arranger.

I’ve been a band leader
on many occasions

and it really was
a disappointing thing to me

to have musicians who
I respected not respect

some of the women
that I hired to play.

Dizzy Gillespie told me
that one time his big band
was doing a show

and he sent for Melba Liston
to do the arrangements.

And he wanted her to do
the arrangements because
he knew of her brilliance.

But when he told the cats in
the band that he had sent out
to the West Coast to bring in

Melba Liston to
arrange the music.

They said, "Man, what you gotta
send out all the way to the West
Coast to get some bitch

to arrange our music for,
man? Come on."

He didn’t say another
word to them.

He just waited until
the day that she arrived

and dropped the charts
in front of them,

and their mouths dropped open
when they started
to look at them

because Melba Liston had
the uncanny ability to make
a section player feel
like a soloist.

They then understood why he had
sent out to the west coast to
get that lady, that woman,

into New York
to arrange that music.

She had the respect
of many male players,

but she just couldn’t seem
to find whatever it was

necessary to make a career.

So she finally gave up
and went to teach music
in Jamaica.

When rock and roll
came along that
changed everything.

It was really the end of
big bands and even
the smaller jazz groups
were struggling.

And of course the women found
themselves swimming
in an even shallower pool.

I was one of the ones that
reduced my big bands to groups.

The women bands were,
you know, falling apart
and couldn’t get gigs.

And I knew I was going
to play my trumpet someway.

Well, I started impersonating
Louis Armstrong.

you know, I’d do
my Louis impression.

When I went to Canada
I was a hit, they loved me.

I made much more
money by myself than I could

playing in somebody’s band.
So that’s what I did.

In 1957 Mary Lou
finally reemerges

and at that point in time,
you know, she was

really adamant about
not wanting to perform again.

Dizzy Gillespie. Probably one
of the only people who have,
could have gotten Mary Lou

to actually come out
of this hiatus at the time.

You know, he convinced her, you
know, that her greatest gift to
the world was, was jazz.

This wasn’t somebody
who just gave up on the music.

She converts to Catholicism.
You look at everything
after that point

and it’s very different
from everything
that was before that.

She met
a Catholic priest
who convinced her

that she should not give up,
but rather use that talent.

You know, if He gave you that
then you should
do something with it.

I work with these
kids at the community center.

I teach them jazz singing
and they really love it.

I met
Mary Lou Williams
in the pages of Time magazine.

And this article talked about
two things, her reemergence
on the jazz scene

playing at The Hickory House,

and her conversion
to Roman Catholicism, which
sort of made that possible.

I met her when she
released the great album

"Mary Lou Williams Presents
Black Christ of the Andes."

I wrote her a letter, she wrote
me back, I went down
and I met her.

I met her at the Hickory House.
She spoke barely a word,
barely a word.

One was, "Are you a priest?"
I said - I’m dressed like this,

seminaries were dressed -

So she had begun
composing again
before I met her.

She was writing all
during the period I knew her.

I had to encourage
her to face crowds.

Wear a bra or
not to wear a bra. It’s hardly
the most essential question

of, of, of this movement.
That’s not where
the action is, you see.

The action is
to change society,
to restructure society.
That I am free

to wear a bra, or not to
wear a bra is my business.

Why don’t you shack up
and say look, "You wash
the dishes today
and I’ll wash them tomorrow?"

- Well, that’s what
I’ve been saying.
- Well, you shack up.
Go ahead.

But you seem to think
this is repulsive.

I think it’s repulsive,
of course.

You seem to think women should
get married this way and be
under their husband’s tutelage
so -

- Well, I think it’s
very natural,you know -
- Let the women tell you
what’s natural.

They’re trying to
tell you all the time.

Well, you certainly aren’t
speaking for them because
the woman I talk to don’t want
to be liberated in a fashion

that women’s liberation
are talking about.

But there is something
different about tonight.
There is something
special about tonight.

What is different?
What is special?

I, Barbara Jordan,
am a keynote speaker.

It’s interesting because at
that period of time in the 70’s

there was this vibe, you know,
women could do,
we could do anything.

You could have a career, you
could, you could succeed in
whatever you wanted to do,
you know.

It was no holds barred.
Everything was opening up
for women.

I think it was
about the 1970’s

that women started
asserting themselves
in all fields,

and therefore things
opened up in jazz.

We were driving back
from the Wichita Jazz Festival

and we were lamenting the fact
that Kansas City had nothing
comparable, Kansas City being
the cradle of jazz.

We thought that was
kind of sad and

so Carol said,
"I have a radical idea

Why don’t we put on
a women’s jazz festival
in Kansas City?"

That came out of the fact that
women very rarely get featured
at jazz festivals anywhere
in the world.

We called Marian McPartland.

She was very excited about it.
She said, "I don’t think
it’s ever been done.

Let me know what I can do
to help. I would love to be
a part of it."

We co-founded
the Women’s Jazz Festival
in 1977,

- A way long time ago.
That’s right
- Way back when.

And it was the first time that
had ever happened.
Leonard Feather was our

Master of Ceremonies,
God rest his soul.

Leonard Feather had done more
for women in jazz.
He produced them,

he traveled with them,
he booked them.
He wrote books about them.

So we came up with this idea
just of the concert. We were
going to do this great concert

that featured women.

And so it would be like
a 4 or 5 hour concert on
a Sunday.

- That would be
our gift to the world.
- That was it.

Boy, we were excited about that.
That would be great.

We started hearing from people
all over the world.
"We’re coming in...

You’re going to have
more than just the concert,
aren’t you?" And we went, "Oh."

It turned into a 3-day festival
and then it ended up
having a 5-day festival

for the last 3 years.

I heard this band for
the first time in Hollywood.

I wrote them up for
the Los Angeles Times and said,
"This is the best all-female
orchestra

possibly that I’ve ever heard,"
Maiden Voyage.

In 1980, when Maiden Voyage

was playing
the Kansas City Women’s
Jazz Festival.

So they had a tribute to
the International
Sweethearts of Rhythm

and they invited all of
the still living members
of that band to come.

And they asked us
to play for that tribute,

and it was just
an amazing experience
to meet them

and to play with them.
We had a jam session.

I mean, if you just think about
who was on that first concert.

Marian McPartland
with her trio...

- Dynamite, dynamite.
- Mary Lou Williams.

And completing
the group is
a wonderful musician who

gave up the American
music scene
to take up a post

as teacher at
the Jamaica School of Music
in the West Indies.

The one and only
Miss Melba Liston.

We can say
that we were the ones that had
gotten Melba Liston
out of retirement.

Her playing on that concert
would melt steel.

She was so incredible.

And she played
for several years after that.

She went back to New York
and revived her career.

If I’m not involved with
anything else in my life,

the two things that were so
exciting were bringing
Melba Liston out of retirement

and reuniting
the International Sweethearts
of Rhythm.

It really brought
some attention

to some women
that I don’t think
had ever gotten their
just desserts.

I remember the women who were
really visible to me at that
time. It was like Darla Blay,

Toshiko,

Joanne Brackeen,

Laurie Frink.

These were women who
I saw who, were out there,

who were playing, uh,
and were doing
what I wanted to do.

I was a woman in a man’s world,
I was a woman playing
a brass instrument,

I was a woman who’s leading
an ensemble. In other words,

I wasn’t going the track
of being a side person.

On some level of course I knew
it was hard for women,
but you know I,

at the time I think I was
walking around like
with blinders on.

I was all of, I don’t know,
21 or 22 and you know,

I thought I could
conquer the world.

Well, although a lot
of people may know me
as an R & B singer,

which I totally consider
myself not to be,

that’s not really
where my roots are.

My roots are in jazz.

Well, when I first had
a chance to hear Patrice,
I noticed

the daring and the courage she
had to reach out
beyond the barrier.

It was unusual for
any musician of that age.

And so, the fact that
she was a female

made, was, was even more unusual
because there were so,
so few instrumentalists.

I think I was just
really, really fortunate.

By the time I got serious about
the music and really wanted to
involve myself in playing jazz

I didn’t have to deal with
anything other than
playing the music.

And I think when your
purpose and your goal

is in front of you and you’re
doing something that you feel
strongly about
and something that you love,

all the stuff you might
have to encounter is just
stuff you have to encounter.

But The Women’s Movement
and the fact that by the time
I was out there,

there was this consciousness
about possibilities.

And that, in all facets of life

and all facets of business,

you were beginning to see that
the idea about what a woman
could or couldn’t do,
be broken down.

So it really knocks me out

when the women come
and really come with it.

I met Terry Lynne when she
was about 9 or 10 years old.

I heard her play
and I was like,
"Oh, my goodness"

because such a command
and a maturity.

And I said, "Oh, this is great."

My father plays saxophone
and my grandfather
was a drummer.

People like Cannonball Adderley
and Nat Adderley,

Pappa Joe Jones and Clark Terry

and all kinds of people would
come to our house for dinner.

So it was very much in me

even before I knew that’s
what I was going to do.

I got my union card when
I was 10 and my first

gig out of town was with
Clark Terry when I was 10.

And I had really
nothing but support

from the jazz community,
the men in the jazz community.

So it was a very
different experience for me.

Terry Lynne Carrington

is not a drummer
that you can say,

"Oh, she’s a great drummer for
a girl." No. She’s at
that upper level.

Well, when I came up I was hard
pressed to see any
women playing drums.

It was almost like
a given that you wouldn’t dare
to hire a female drummer.

Because a drummer has to have
that testosterone in the sound.

Because there were a few women
that played drums before, but
I don’t think there were
really any people that

did the diverse things that
I did, as far as playing with
legends like Dizzy Gillespie
and then Stan Getz,

and contemporary legends like
Wayne Shorter
and Herbie Hancock.

Then I had the experience of
playing with Herbie which was
really pretty amazing to me

because when I grew up I felt
like if I ever play with
these guys, you know,
I really made it.

Because she was a pioneer

female drummers now
don’t have to sound
just like men.

They can have a feminine aspect
to the way they play.

You know, I didn’t really have
role models in that regard,
but I felt so embraced

that I didn’t see
it as a problem.

I moved to
New York in 1985

to pursue a career
to be a jazz star,
to play jazz drums.

All I wanted to do was to just
be one of the guys.
That was my fantasy.

So just, you know, just fit in
and blend in and hopefully
people would just pay attention
to my drumming.

I go to a jam session
in New York City

of which I went to many,
many, many every single night.

And I would sign up on the list
and get such a rough time,
"Take your shirt off,"

"I’ll let you sit in," "Can you
handle this tempo, honey?"

And it would make me seethe
in fury. Like inside
I would feel like a volcano

about to explode.
It was so infuriating

and stupid ’cause I, you know,

I did everything that I could
possibly think to do to be
a good player and, you know,

just because of my gender to
hear these dumb comments was

so aggravating
and sort of, you know,

fueled, fueled me to
go, to go forward.

I never thought about
all girl projects
or all women projects

and it wasn’t something
that I was ever interested
in because

traditionally and historically
everything that

I knew about at the time that
women were involved in was,
was not as

excellent musically
as the other things
I heard from
our male counterparts.

I am so enthusiastic
about the state of
female jazz musicians.

You can go from

the tradition of Big Band,
and its growth with Diva

to amazing instrumentalists,
amazing players-
Ingrid Jensen,

Terry Lynne Carrington...

to composer
pianists like Geri Allen.

I love Geri Allen.

I mean jazz is a real

clear metaphor for what
is best about humanity.

The way we improvise,

the way we share,

the way we trust,

and those things that happen
in the best moments of music.

Those moments on stage

where you play music
and you just...

connect with the other musicians

you connect with the audience,

and you’re just being yourself,
you’re just playing

and, and everything, those
moments that everything
just gets calm.

I don’t know of
any men that are doing
what Maria Schneider’s doing.

She really has created
her own sound and she’s

a person that’s carving
out the future of larger group

music in jazz.

I never, ever thought of myself
as being a woman doing
what I’m doing.

When I put out my first record,
Evanescence, I still remember
a journalist came over and said

"What’s it like to be
a woman composer?"

And I just, I said,

"What’s it like to be
a male journalist?"

In retrospect to all
the things I’ve done to get
to where I am in music,

very little of it has had
anything to do with
being a woman.

The only thing I can honestly
say that has gotten me
from point A to point B

is being in love with music,
all kinds of music

and wanting to play music with
people that want to
play music with me.

I did show up to a gig
and I was up for
elderly gentlemen

and like one guy didn’t
put his dentures in

and so anyway they were telling
me that they wouldn’t pay me.

Actually they said they
were going to cut my pay.

And they said,
this one guy said,

"Well, so and so didn’t tell me
they were sending a girl."

And I thought,
"I still want my money."

"Well, so we’re going
to cut you 5 dollars."

And somebody with
their dentures like that,

"We going to
cut you 5 dollars,"

I thought, okay,
I just wanted to laugh.

One of the things that
I think is the biggest change
is the women themselves.

We don’t walk into
the situation concerned
about somebody else’s

baggage about whether we can
or we can’t. We, our focus is

in being good about what we do,

and more and more,

it’s becoming ah,
just a mindset on
women’s part that,

that’s not a hurdle
that we have to
deal with anymore.

I only realized it that

you know, a few years ago
all my idols have been men.

No teacher ever talked to me
about Mary Lou Williams

or Marian McPartland.

I didn’t know who
the Sweethearts of Rhythm were,

I didn’t know who
Vi Redd was, I didn’t know

I didn’t know any of that.

The first pianist that I saw,

jazz pianist,
was Terry Pollard.

And she was playing
with Terry Gibbs at the time.

And I’ll just never forget
the intensity of seeing her

on stage and how
fierce she was.

And it was like, "Wow.
There’s a place for me
in this music." From seeing her.

I’ve seen some stunning
young women coming up.

And I have to admit to you,
one of the things I love

about them is that
there isn’t even the inkling

that there’s anything
they can’t do.

There’s just complete

confidence and comfort with
themselves about who they are
as women and what they’re going
to do in the world.

Yeah, I think we’re
going to see
the music grow immensely

and instead of
trying to approach it,

women coming to a man’s world -
maybe that’s the difference.

We kind of all realize like
this is not a man’s game.

If you really look
at the facts,

it’s our game, you know.

You know, we’re creators,
we are creators.

I think it was
a Women in Jazz Festival

and I was really excited
because
Terry Lynn Carrington
was playing drums.

Ingrid Jensen who plays in
my band, Joanne Brackeen
was playing piano

and then the band,
all the horns were all men.

So we were playing the concert
and it was just killing.
I mean, Ingrid was
playing her butt off

and Terry Lynn -
it was amazing and I was

standing to the side
watching Ingrid’s solo

and watching the rhythm section
play. All the guys who were
the horn players

were just looking on.

and they were all just
like leaning forward
and totally grooving

on the, how heavy
the music was.

And it got me kind of choked up
because I was thinking, "Wow.

That’s not something
you see very often.

Quincy Jones told me something
when I was in high school

and he came up to me
and he says, "What do you
want to do?"

And I said, "Oh, sir, I’m gonna
write and I’m gonna play,"

and he just looked
right in my face, "You know,

you’re going to have
to be very, very good.

You want to be good anyway,

but if you’re the girl
in the band you have to be."

I hope we get to
the day soon where

that’s not something
that people think about
and,and categorize us.

A lot of men had
a very specific and very

limited view of what women did,

and their roles in society,
their roles in the family.

And it’s important to give them
a little leeway in saying that

that had never seen or
understood how a woman could do

what some of these women
musicians were trying to do.

They were limited
in their ability to
understand it.

The women that came
before us were so diligent

and so brave to continue
pressing and to continue
to be an example

of what the life as a female
jazz musician could be
and could look like.

I would say to
the Clora Bryants,

the Dorothy Donegans,
Mary Lou, Marian McPartland,

I want to say,

Thank you.

Um, I knew about it because
some of them told me about it.

My mom told me about it.

And um,

I, hopefully every note that
I play represents. "Hey,

I know that you had
to maybe, you know,

go to, upstairs to someone’s
room to collect your paycheck."

Um, I’m grateful I've
not had to do that.

Great guys, good timing.