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| Jim Cullum Jazz Band "Porgy and Bess—Live" + Caffe Reggio and the Incredible True Story Of How It Was Made Bandleader and cornetist Jim Cullum says that performing George Gershwin's opera Porgy and Bess as a jazz piece has been the highlight of his 50-year musical life. In performances on tour across the country, the Cullum band's original jazz transcription of the Gershwin score has captured critical acclaim for its originality and for including virtually all the music from Gershwin's folk opera. This 1992 performance at The Landing in San Antonio is unique among the many jazz interpretations of Porgy and Bess for its inclusion of the distinctive and highly personal narration by bass-baritone William Warfield, known for his definitive portrayals of Porgy playing opposite Leontyne Price in the 1950s; and in the completeness of the musical selections— there are 28 compositions on the double album, including the little-known pieces from Gershwin's opera, Buzzard Song and Oh, Doctor Jesus; and for its electric live performance captured at The Landing in San Antonio by the Grammy award-winning audio team of Ed Greene, Jim Anderson and Malcolm Harper. The Dolby SR two-track recording from the audio truck on the night of performance had never been played back and was sourced for this recording. Every attempt was made by the audio team to preserve the warmth of the original analog recording in mastering and manufacturing the album. The Story of Porgy and Bess — by Jim Cullum Those are famous lyrics, and yes, if you're in New York in June when the weather is perfect you might take my advice and start a stroll at the foot of 5th Avenue, at the Washington Square Arch. The Arch is much like the Arc de Triomphe in Paris, except that it is smaller. It was built to celebrate the centennial of George Washington's inauguration as President of the United States. Here you go. Bearing a bit to the southwest, heading diagonally across Washington Square, enjoy its many charms along the way: Numbers of old men play chess, sometimes with a few stragglers standing alongside, silently studying each move. There is a little dog park where people let their dogs sniff all around on the other dogs, and somehow there are no dog fights. Bocce balls are cast up and back over long greens. A few citizens nap in the sun. And of course, there are almost always a few lovers in embrace. Some rush through the Square in a New York hurry. If you follow my suggestions you may take it slow and stop easily a few times and eventually come out on the southwest side of Washington Square where MacDougal Street heads off into Greenwich Village. Keep going. Your great reward is close. Two and one half blocks down on the west side of MacDougal Street you will find Caffe Reggio which has waited for you — waited patiently — and this since 1927. Caffe Reggio has not changed while it has waited. Entering the cafe you will see the original tin ceiling and dark wood with little wooden statues and oil paintings that are quite dark, and a big old brass espresso machine that they do not use any more, and two-foot- square marble tables where customers must squeeze in even if it's not crowded. In the center of the back wall there is a table tucked in an alcove. To the side and above the table is a pay telephone. This is my table, and starting with my discovery of Caffe Reggio in 1980 and continuing to this day, this table and telephone have served as my New York office. If another customer gets there before I do, I wait it out. Eventually, my table comes open and I move in. But I don't suffer while I wait, for Caffe Reggio never fails, and I go after some of the regular menu items — espresso coffee, Italian pastries, real chocolate frappés and other stuff. Often times however, I have been away from my New York office for as long as a couple of years. It was a coincidence that during one of those sabbaticals we began to work on our jazz band's version of Porgy and Bess. John Sheridan was our principal arranger. This was in 1985 and 1986. Some of the band members looked on my Porgy and Bess plan with skepticism but work came along, and little by little as the whole thing emerged, it was magnificent. Porgy and Bess is probably the greatest single accomplishment of the band's 48-year history. To my knowledge no one has ever performed a jazz version of the entire opera. We musically followed the passion, richness, sorrow, laughter, romance, and tragedy — all the moods of Porgy and Bess as they rose and fell. Various jazz band instruments took on character roles. We had barely started when we caught the ear of a renowned San Antonio patron of the arts, Margaret Tobin. Mrs.Tobin was so taken with the first little part of our Porgy and Bess that she dabbed at her eyes and began calling me every few days to ask of our progress. When work was finally complete, our Porgy and Bess was premiered in San Antonio. For this performance I created a narration, to serve as a libretto. The opera, performed as a jazz Instrumental, was helped along by an interspersed explanation of the plot. Eventually Margaret Tobin financed a high-powered studio recording of the work, and I boldly announced that I intended to take the resulting tape recording to New York City and sell it to a major label. Margaret nodded proudly. A few others scoffed at the idea saying such things as, "They can't even sell the Louis and Ella Porgy and Bess or Miles Davis' Porgy and Bess. Do you think they are really gonna want this thing of ours?" My father had drilled it into me. "Even a blind man, " and he said it over and over, "can hit a home run, if he swings at enough baseballs!" And so I was off to New York with my battered L.L. Bean briefcase full of taped copies of the band's new Porgy and Bess and a stack of copies of the libretto. I checked into the Washington Square Hotel. In those days it had no restaurant and hardly any lobby. There was no telephone in my room. I did not need these things, for the Washington Square Hotel was located just north of the Square, and in my New York salesman's mode I could stride right down to Caffe Reggio. On day one, I took my position at my office at the café and sipped coffee and leafed through the latest copy of Applause Magazine which contained a well-written story on George Gershwin, by Edward Jablonski. The article identified Edward Jablonski as the foremost Gershwin scholar/writer in the world. Do not forget, now, that I was in New York to sell Porgy and Bess to a big label. In this process, I did not have a single contact in the record industry. This seemingly insurmountable circumstance is a lot of what gives the beef to this story. Hmm . . . . My mind is running through the maze as I tap the rolled up Applause Magazine against my thigh. The coffee at Caffe Reggio goes down easily. The New York telephone book hangs below the pay phone on a chain. I look up Applause Magazine in the business pages. So far, so good. Its office is located on West 46th Street, and I'm off. "I am trying to locate this man, Mr. Jablonski, " I say to the Applause Magazine receptionist, as I point to his name at the top of the Gershwin article. "Well, " she says, "he is not here, never comes here. I've never met or even seen him, so I can't help you!" "Might I speak to the editor?" "No, I'm sorry." "I just think Mr. Jablonski would be very interested in a special version of Porgy and Bess. I have it right here." I dig in my briefcase. She jumps back, and it flashes through my mind that she thinks that maybe I am about to pull out a gun. But it is only a cassette tape and my libretto. I give her my best smile. “Just a minute, ” she says, and she disappears through a door and in 30 seconds is back with a man in a bow tie. This is luck. I also have on a bow tie, and there is a kind of bow tie brotherhood. I know the bow ties made the odds in my favor go up by 5%. Mr. Bow-Tie is the editor. He has come out to rescue the receptionist. I turn it on, explain everything about myself, the band, Porgy and Bess and Edward Jablonski. The editor says that Edward Jablonski is a recluse and that I haven’t a snowball’s chance of seeing him, and good luck and good day! I am still smiling and being friendly like crazy. “Well, here’s a copy of Porgy and Bess for you anyway and one for the receptionist here, and thank you so much, and if you wish to contact me here is my card, and I’ll write the phone number of this phone at the Caffe Reggio where I hang out here in New York.” “Okay, Okay, ” he says! phone. Well, okay . . . . and I answer it. “Hello.” “I am trying to reach a Jim Cullum. Anyone there by that name?" “I am Jim Cullum! Bandleader Jim Cullum “Great! This is Applause Magazine. I listened to that Porgy and Bess and it’s terrific. I have called Edward Jablonski and told him about it and played some of it for him over the phone. He wants to see you at 10:00 tomorrow morning at his apartment. How about it? I’ll send the tape over to him by courier!” At 9:55 the next morning I am stepping out from a taxi and sizing up Edward Jablonski’s pad, a classic New York brownstone on the Upper Westside. He buzzes me in. The inside looks like a Gershwin museum with lots of memorabilia all over, including I back out the door and head back to the Caffe Reggio where I order Bandleader Jim Cullum something, settle into my table, and having swung at and missed the first pitch, I start thinking....“What now?” The pay phone starts ringing. It keeps on! No one ever calls in on it. Caffe Reggio has its own framed photographs of Gershwin at the Alvin Theater with the full cast of Porgy and Bess taking bows on opening night in 1935. Gershwin’s water colors are lovingly displayed, and there is one water color of his sparse room at Charleston where he composed Porgy and Bess. His room there was hlghighted by a single light bulb that hung down write your comments about the article :: © 2016 Jazz News :: home page |