From the Archives: Jazz Pianist George Shearing.

Show: FRESH AIR
Date: NOVEMBER 25, 1999
Time: 12:00
Tran: 112502NP.217
Type: FEATURE
Head: Interview with George Shearing
Sect: Entertainment
Time: 12:30

This is a rush transcript. This copy may not
be in its final form and may be updated.

TERRY GROSS, HOST: This is FRESH AIR. I'm Terry Gross.

Jazz pianist George Shearing turned 80 earlier this year. He's celebrating with a birthday concert at Carnegie Hall next Tuesday.

We're going to hear a 1986 interview with him.

Shearing was born in London and was blind from birth. In the 1940s, he was one of England's most popular jazz musicians, but after World War Two, he decided to move to New York, the center of modern jazz. He became an American citizen in 1956. This was the decade in which he enjoyed his greatest commercial success.

Let's listen to his Quintets recording of his best-known composition, "Lullaby of Birdland."

(AUDIO CLIP, EXCERPT, "LULLABY OF BIRDLAND," GEORGE SHEARING)

GROSS: George Shearing, recorded in 1952. Shearing now records for the Telarch (ph) label. When I spoke with him in 1986, he told me that as a child, he studied piano as a school for the blind. I asked him if his teachers were confident that a blind person could master the piano.

(BEGIN AUDIOTAPE)

GEORGE SHEARING, JAZZ PIANIST: I don't think it's a question of whether a blind child could master the piano, as whether a blind child can make a living in anything other than playing in the pubs, which is where I started.

You've got to remember one thing, Terry, and that is that if I chose, say, to be a studio musician, to be a studio musician, it's obviously necessary to read music. And, yes, I can read braille music, but that's not sight-reading sighted music. And you might find 30 pages of manuscript paper with so many notes on it, it's just as if, you know, flies were all over it.

And we always say that there are some sighted people who read so well that if a fly appeared on the paper, they'd read it, you know.

This is not available to the blind. But playing in the pub was, and eventually getting my own group was. And from there, I went with an all-blind band, 15 blind guys learning to play instruments, from being basket makers and chair caners. We were playing arrangements of Jimmy Lunsford (ph) and Duke Ellington and people like that.

GROSS: How did you find each other? Who organized the band?

SHEARING: The National Institution for the Blind. People used to write all the parts out in braille. I was the only one that didn't read his part. I could pick it up by ear, because I learned a lot of the records as well. There were a couple of people in that band, the first trumpet player and the drummer, who had everything from, oh, you know, early Miff Mole (ph) and stuff like that, all the way through Teddy Wilson and Tatum and Fats Waller.

And these people kind of became my mentors, as you can imagine. So it was -- that was a really wonderful training ground.

GROSS: Just as you were really coming of age and -- well, you'd already started your recording career -- the war came along. How was the music scene in London...

SHEARING: During the war?

GROSS: ... changed by the war, and was there any place to perform or even places to listen during the war?

SHEARING: I had more work than I could handle, because there were so many people called up. I would be doing studio work in the daytime, because there was enough of it that it didn't demand reading, and they couldn't afford to be that fussy any longer. So I learned the charts and did the recordings and the jazz broadcasts and whatever was involved.

I did theater, two shows in theater, 8 and 10 at night. I went on to a supper club and played from 10:30 until about 1, 1:30. And then on to a night club and played till 4, and then back in the studios the next morning at 10.

I had much more work than I could handle.

GROSS: Were you ever bombed while you were performing during the war?

SHEARING: Oh, yes. First of all, my mother was bombed out three times. And I was in a cab one night going to work, and we stopped at a traffic light. We heard this tremendous blast. And the cab shook like mad. And I said, "Boy, that was a close one, wasn't it?" And there was no answer.

And I said, "That was a close one, wasn't it?" I put my hand in front, and the driver was gone. He'd ducked in a doorway, and when it was all clear he came out again. I said, "Thanks a lot!"

GROSS: Really!

Well, didn't you also do some playing inside air raid shelters during the war?

SHEARING: Oh, yes.

GROSS: What kind of setup...

SHEARING: (inaudible)...

GROSS: ... was that, that there'd be a piano there?

SHEARING: I met my first wife in an air raid shelter. And what we did, we played in the basement, which had been turned into a gymnasium. And there were kind of forms, you know, benches that one could sleep on, or on the floor, and there were blankets and stuff. And there would be an upright piano there.

So I was living with a song plugger (ph) at the time. And he and I would play four hands, much to the amusement of people that went, you know, down in that particular air raid shelter.

GROSS: So you think it helped pass the time for everybody?

SHEARING: Oh, yes. Oh, well, sure. I mean, you had to make a life. I mean, you had no alternative. Fifteen hours a day, the raids would be on, day and night, until we defeated the day raiders.

GROSS: My guest is pianist George Shearing.

Well, after the war, you decided, I guess, not to stay in London, and you wanted to at least make a few trips to the United States. What was the lure of America for you?

SHEARING: I met a few American musicians just before and a few more during the war. And all as if they were in one voice pretty well said, Man, you should go over to the States, you'd kill them over there.

Well, you know, I had acquired some ability to play in the styles of Teddy Wilson, Art Tatum, Fats Waller, and Bob Zerky (ph) and people like that. But they had all this over here. You can't believe, when I first came over on the U.S. -- on the United States ship, I had letters to top-flight agents, and I went around giving one audition after another. It became very evident to me very quickly that what I needed was an identity.

And the identity was, of course, the George Shearing Quintet.

(END AUDIOTAPE)

GROSS: We'll hear more of our archive interview with George Shearing after a break.

This is FRESH AIR.

(BREAK)

GROSS: Let's get back to our 1986 interview with pianist George Shearing.

(BEGIN AUDIOTAPE)

It seems to me that in the last few years, you've been adding more and more popular song to your repertoire, playing with singers like Mel Torme, singing yourself. You've recently -- I think it's recently began singing as well.

SHEARING: Yes, within the last 10 or 15 years, you know, recently.

GROSS: What attracts you to a song when (inaudible)...

SHEARING: Lyrics, lyrics. And how the lyrics fit with the music. You know, and being able to make literary sense out of the song. For instance, everybody -- and I do mean everybody -- that I've heard, when they do" Send in the Clowns," they sing, (singing) Isn't it rich, isn't it queer, losing my timing this late in my career?" Now, would you say it that way? "Losing my timing this late -- in my career"? You would say, "Losing my timing this late in my career," wouldn't you?

But it's partly Sondheim's fault. I love him, I love him dearly. We had a long talk one night in the Carlisle about Bach. He's a great Bach enthusiast. But people have to use a little bit of imagination, a little bit of ingenuity. (singing) Isn't it rich, isn't it queer, losing my timing this late in my career." This is why I love songs.

GROSS: I see what you mean with that. Did Sondheim agree with you?

SHEARING: I think so. In fact, I know he did, yes. Yes, he agreed with me completely.

GROSS: You've written songs as well, and I think your best-known piece is "Lullaby of Birdland." Can you tell us the story behind writing that?

SHEARING: Birdland needed a theme song for a six-hour disk jockey show that they had in the early '50s.

GROSS: And Birdland was a club...

SHEARING: A club, yes.

GROSS: ... in New York in the '50s.

SHEARING: Right, yes...

GROSS: Mostly bop musicians played at...

SHEARING: Yes, yes, well, it was named for Charlie Parker, see, whose nickname was Bird.

So I wrote this thing. I heard it in my head. I wrote it in 10 minutes -- I always say, 10 minutes and 35 years in the business -- over a steak in my dining room when I lived in New Jersey. I went back to that same butcher a thousand times trying to get that same steak again. (laughs)

So they liked it, and they played it every hour on the hour, which is, of course, why it became my best-known song, because that was my only well-known song.

You know, when I go on as a composer, I say, I'd like to play you a medley of my hit, you know.

GROSS: (laughs)

SHEARING: But the thing is that when something is hammered through people's heads, of course it's going to -- if it's got any substance at all that people could hang onto, of course it's going to become a hit, you know.

And that's what happened with "Lullaby." And of course we got over 100 people recording it.

GROSS: The -- I don't know if you wrote it with a lyric in mind or not...

SHEARING: No.

GROSS: ... but I have heard it sung.

SHEARING: Yes.

GROSS: And the first line is -- I'm not going to sing it, maybe you'll do it. But they sing the first line with "Lullaby of Birdland" in it.

SHEARING: Birdland. Yes, they do.

GROSS: Do you want to just sing the line, just to...

SHEARING: Yes, well, if you read it and you read it as if you're dividing the lines, you -- Lullaby of Birdland, that's what I/ Always hear when you sigh. Never in my wordland could there be ways to reveal / In a phrase how I feel.

Well, it doesn't mean anything, does it, really? So, (singing) Lullaby of Birdland, that's what I always hear when you sigh. Never in my wordland could there be ways to reveal in a phrase how I feel.

Now it means something, because it's being read.

GROSS: Did you -- when you composed the song, hear the first phrase as being "Lullaby of Birdland"?

SHEARING: No, no. I just thought of this as a tune. And in fact, I'm not even sure that -- I mean, it was a theme song for Birdland. I don't even remember who gave it the title of "Lullaby of Birdland."

GROSS: When you first started living in the States in the '40s and the '50s, the jazz scene was having -- jazz musicians were really having a lot of drug problems. There was a lot of heroin that was being used among jazz musicians then, and a lot of young musicians, partially, I think, to emulate some of their heroes, like Charlie Parker, ended up shooting up and getting hooked on drugs.

SHEARING: Right.

GROSS: Did you ever run into any problems with that or come close to it? Was it hard for you to keep out of that?

SHEARING: Oh, no. I didn't drink, I didn't take a glass of wine until I was 46 years old, never mind drugs or anything like that. I had people with me that took them. And provided they did their job, showed up on time and played as well as they would not -- and that's a lot to ask, but if they could do it, it wasn't my business.

I had a guy one night, and I'll protect him, I won't tell you his name, he called me about 3:00 in the morning. And he said, "George, can I come up and see you for a minute?" And I thought the manager had forgot to pay him or something, you know. So he came up and he sat on my bed. And he says, "George... " I said, "Yes, bubba, what's the matter?" He says, "I'm on drugs." And he cried.

And I said, "So you're on drugs. Now, what? What does that mean?" And he told me that he didn't want to stay around long enough for the shame to mar my band and my reputation. And I said, "When you are straight, your job will be there."

Well, time went on, and we never did get together again. And I understand he is very straight now. But I also understand that he's not playing any more, and that he's teaching, doing something.

So I hope he is. But you see, he was guilty enough, he felt guilty enough. What am I going to do? I'm not his keeper. I can't use them when they're like that and when they're not doing the job.

GROSS: Had you realized that he was on drugs, and did you consider saying, "Oh, that's OK, you can stay, you're still performing OK."

SHEARING: I just -- no, I just thought his playing was kind of weak. And he didn't really do the job I imagined he could do. But I still waited, you know, in case he was going through a period of natural -- you know, just not feeling up to par or something. And I'm patient, you know, but...

And everybody protected him, of course. Wonderful group, you know.

GROSS: You mentioned that you didn't drink, you didn't even have a glass of wine until you were 46.

SHEARING: Right.

GROSS: Why not? Why not have some wine or (inaudible)?

SHEARING: Because my mother drank more beer than she needed to drink, and in the neighborhood I lived in, I saw a lot of -- although my family were not involved -- saw a lot of street fighting, a lot of stuff going on, and I didn't need it. I was afraid. I didn't want to be involved in anything less than a life where I could really know where I was, you know, coming from.

And, you know, to this very day, I'm very conscious about knowing, you know, what's going on at all times.

GROSS: What made you think then, at age 46, that it was OK at that point to have a drink? Did you feel secure enough within yourself so that you knew...

SHEARING: I think so.

GROSS: ... you could drink...

SHEARING: Yes, I think -- I think so...

GROSS: ... in moderation?

SHEARING: ... I think that was probably it, yes.

GROSS: Well, I want to thank you so much for talking with us about your life and your playing today. Thank you very much for being here.

SHEARING: Terry, my pleasure, and thank you. I hope we see you again.

(END AUDIOTAPE)

GROSS: Pianist George Shearing, recorded in 1986.

Next Tuesday, he'll perform an 80th birthday concert at Carnegie Hall.

Here's his 1975 recording of "Happy Days Are Here Again."

(AUDIO CLIP, "HAPPY DAYS ARE HERE AGAIN," GEORGE SHEARING)

GROSS: George Shearing.

Coming up, new reissues by Ellington's sidemen.

This is FRESH AIR.

TO PURCHASE AN AUDIOTAPE OF THIS PIECE, PLEASE CALL 877-21FRESH
Dateline: Terry Gross, Philadelphia, PA
Guest: George Shearing
High: Jazz pianist George Shearing turned 80 earlier this year. He is celebrating with an 80th birthday concert at Carnegie Hall next Tuesday. Shearing was born in London, and was blind from birth. In the 1940s he was one of England's most popular jazz musicians. He then moved to New York, became an American citizen, and enjoyed commercial success on these shores. (Rebroadcast from 1986.)
Spec: Entertainment; Music Industry; George Shearing

Please note, this is not the final feed of record

Copy: Content and programming copyright 1999 WHYY, Inc. All rights reserved. Transcribed by FDCH, Inc. under license from WHYY, Inc. Formatting copyright 1999 FDCH, Inc. All rights reserved. No quotes from the materials contained herein may be used in any media without attribution to WHYY, Inc. This transcript may not be reproduced in whole or in part without prior written permission.
End-Story: Interview with George Shearing
Show: FRESH AIR
Date: NOVEMBER 25, 1999
Time: 12:00
Tran: 112503NP.217
Type: FEATURE
Head: Reviewing Duke Ellington's Sidemen
Sect: Entertainment
Time: 12:50

This is a rush transcript. This copy may not
be in its final form and may be updated.

TERRY GROSS, HOST: A lot of Ellington reissues came out this year in conjunction with the centenary of his birth last April. As the Ellington centenary year draws to a close, several notable recordings by Ellington's sidemen have been reissued in time for the Christmas season.

Jazz critic Kevin Whitehead reviews four new reissues.

(AUDIO CLIP, EXCERPT, "THE STREET WHERE YOU LIVE," COOTY (ph) WILLIAMS)

KEVIN WHITEHEAD, JAZZ CRITIC: Trumpeter Cooty Williams, 1957, from the album "Cooty Williams in Hi-Fi." It's one of four nifty new CDs from RCA featuring star Ellington soloists in settings outside Duke's orchestra, even if they still play a few of his tunes.

On "Cooty Williams and Hi-Fi," with a tasteful studio orchestra to keep him company, the trumpeter shows off his beautiful tone on open horn as well as his peerless command of the wah-wah plunger mute.

The back half of the CD is given over to very different music, recorded in 1957 by Williams's R&B-oriented big band, sometimes featuring singer Larry Dale or this one, Winnie Brown.

(AUDIO CLIP, EXCERPT, SONG, WINNIE BROWN AND COOTY WILLIAMS BAND)

WHITEHEAD: Given the sophistication of Ellington's own writing, it's curious how often his musicians prefer to play down-home blues when out on their own.

Another example is Duke's great balladeer, alto saxophonist Johnny Hodges (ph). He's heard on the CD "Wild Bill Davis and Johnny Hodges in Atlantic City," a live date from 1966. Hodges and Ellington trombonist Lawrence (ph) Brown sit in with Davis's earthy organ combo for some rollicking good-time numbers, including two not on the original LP. And this one, Hodges' own "Belle of the Belmont (ph)."

(AUDIO CLIP, EXCERPT, "BELLE OF THE BELMONT," JOHNNY HODGES AND LAWRENCE BROWN)

WHITEHEAD: Johnny Hodges shows off his sultry ballad style on another of these new reissues, "Ellingtonia: Moods and Blues." It was recorded in 1960 under the leadership of tenor saxophonist Paul Gonzalvez (ph) and also features Ellington trumpeter Ray Nance.

Gonzalvez' claim to fame with Duke was up-tempo romps, but he had a beautifully luminous ballad tone himself. Here he is on Ellington and Billy Strayhorn's (ph) "Daydream."

(AUDIO CLIP, EXCERPT, "DAYDREAM," PAUL GONZALVEZ)

WHITEHEAD: Finally, Paul Gonzalvez and trumpeter Clark Terry front the so-called C-Jam All Stars, a combo of Ellingtonians recorded during a European tour in 1958 with the obscure but OK German pianist Carlos Diernhammer (ph) doing his best to fill Duke's shoes. That disk is called "Diminuendo, Crescendo, and Blues," and naturally enough, it includes both Duke's "C-Jam Blues" and Gonzalvez' perennial showcase with Ellington, "Diminuendo and Crescendo in Blue."

These last two CDs include no additional material and clock in at a skimpy 36 minutes each. But all these reissues are budget priced, so there's no cause for complaint.

The two disks with Paul Gonzalvez have never been available in the U.S. before, and the other two are new to CD. That would make these reissues good presents for Ellington fans who already have a shelf of the master's works -- and also for those who don't.

GROSS: Kevin Whitehead is the author of "New Dutch Swing." He reviewed four RCA reissues, "Cooty Williams in Hi-Fi," "Wild Bill Davis and Johnny Hodges in Atlantic City," Paul Gonzalvez, "Ellingtonia: Moods and Blues," and C-Jam All Stars, "Diminuendo, Crescendo, and Blues."

I'm Terry Gross. All of us at FRESH AIR wish you a happy Thanksgiving.

TO PURCHASE AN AUDIOTAPE OF THIS PIECE, PLEASE CALL 877-21FRESH
Dateline: Terry Gross, Philadelphia, PA
Guest: Kevin Whitehead
High: 1999 marks the centennial of Duke Ellington's birth. Jazz critic Kevin Whitehead reviews four notable reissued recordings of Ellington's featured sidemen.
Spec: Entertainment; Music Industry; Duke Ellington

Please note, this is not the final feed of record

Copy: Content and programming copyright 1999 WHYY, Inc. All rights reserved. Transcribed by FDCH, Inc. under license from WHYY, Inc. Formatting copyright 1999 FDCH, Inc. All rights reserved. No quotes from the materials contained herein may be used in any media without attribution to WHYY, Inc. This transcript may not be reproduced in whole or in part without prior written permission.
End-Story: Reviewing Duke Ellington's Sidemen
Transcripts are created on a rush deadline, and accuracy and availability may vary. This text may not be in its final form and may be updated or revised in the future. Please be aware that the authoritative record of Fresh Air interviews and reviews are the audio recordings of each segment.