Read Online The Cool School by Glenn O'Brien - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Glenn O'Brien
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hopes up until eight o’clock then decided to go to the hall and watch all the money we could have had. It was a beautiful August night andsince it was going to be his first appearance, I watched eight thousand people come and then turn around.
The hall and expenses were a two thousand dollar ($2,000) loss and the next night in “Newark” we only made three thousand ($3,000) profit so it was six weeks of running practically for nothing. “Nat” took two thousand to get even and gave me all the other grand so I could get me some uniforms for the guys and chalked it up to “Cest La Vie”. . .
Nothing exciting happened for the next seven months—just rehearsing and hoping. I had one thing in my favor. All the guys in the group, except me, were living at home with their folks and didn’t need nothing more than cigarette money and carfare. Early in 1947, I persuaded “Al Lions” to give me a record date. I added “Rudy Williams” on alto for soloing and we cut our first date.
The tunes were “OOP-POP-A-DA”. “PAY DEM DUES” “LOP POW” and “WEIRD LULLABY”. “OOP-POP” was an instant hit around New York and the metropolitan area. “Freddie Robbins” a disc-jockey, of note at the time, played it every night for a couple of months.
At that time “Bluenote” was a very small record company and had been doing a mail order business in dixieland jazz. The result was our record wasn’t heard outside the radius of “Freddie’s” station unless they ordered it. Our jobs picked up around New York and we were booked into the “Onyx” club with “Billie Eckstine”. “Metronome” picked us the number one vocal group in the country.
We worked all the clubs along the street during the next few months and it was during a rehearsal at the “Onyx” one afternoon when “Dizzy” came in and said his big band was auditioning for “Victor”. He said he’d played a lot of tunes but hadn’t moved the big brass. I told him to do “OOP-POP”. Dizzy went back and did it for the big brass and they signed him immediately.
We left town to play an engagement at a lounge on the north side of “Chicago”. When we arrived at the club, the manager counted us and said we had one too many.
I showed my contract which read “Babs and His Three Bips and Bop” which came to five people. He told us to go straight to the dressing room in the rear. The dressing room turned out to be a storage room for empty bottles and we had no mirrors, chairs, or anything to hang our clothes on. While we were changing, we could hear the solo colored pianist playing “The Nigger” and the white man played five up, “The Nigger” won the money and was scared to pick it up. We all looked at each other knowing this was going to be a drag. As we were going to the bandstand, the customers were yelling “Alright niggers get hot.”
During our first set behind their long bar, we could see gangsters and police officers trading money and were called twenty-five “black bastards”. All the big name jazz groups were playing this room and I wondered had they received this sort of treatment or had they been just waiting for us. Back in the “storage” room I asked all the guys did they want to quit and since nobody had any dependents, everybody agreed to split. I went up to the boss’s office and asked for my transportation.
My contract read I was to receive it upon arrival. He told me “Nigger, can’t you see I’m playing cards? I’ll give it to you tomorrow.” I went back and told the fellows what was happening, and that we were in trouble. I had a thirty-two pistol and my bass man had a thirty-eight. We knew we couldn’t carry the instruments and protect ourselves too, so we decided to leave them. We’d only gotten about ten feet when the boss and two of his cronies confronted us. I told him we were leaving. He said “look you black bastards, all the big names play here and they don’t mind being called a few
The hall and expenses were a two thousand dollar ($2,000) loss and the next night in “Newark” we only made three thousand ($3,000) profit so it was six weeks of running practically for nothing. “Nat” took two thousand to get even and gave me all the other grand so I could get me some uniforms for the guys and chalked it up to “Cest La Vie”. . .
Nothing exciting happened for the next seven months—just rehearsing and hoping. I had one thing in my favor. All the guys in the group, except me, were living at home with their folks and didn’t need nothing more than cigarette money and carfare. Early in 1947, I persuaded “Al Lions” to give me a record date. I added “Rudy Williams” on alto for soloing and we cut our first date.
The tunes were “OOP-POP-A-DA”. “PAY DEM DUES” “LOP POW” and “WEIRD LULLABY”. “OOP-POP” was an instant hit around New York and the metropolitan area. “Freddie Robbins” a disc-jockey, of note at the time, played it every night for a couple of months.
At that time “Bluenote” was a very small record company and had been doing a mail order business in dixieland jazz. The result was our record wasn’t heard outside the radius of “Freddie’s” station unless they ordered it. Our jobs picked up around New York and we were booked into the “Onyx” club with “Billie Eckstine”. “Metronome” picked us the number one vocal group in the country.
We worked all the clubs along the street during the next few months and it was during a rehearsal at the “Onyx” one afternoon when “Dizzy” came in and said his big band was auditioning for “Victor”. He said he’d played a lot of tunes but hadn’t moved the big brass. I told him to do “OOP-POP”. Dizzy went back and did it for the big brass and they signed him immediately.
We left town to play an engagement at a lounge on the north side of “Chicago”. When we arrived at the club, the manager counted us and said we had one too many.
I showed my contract which read “Babs and His Three Bips and Bop” which came to five people. He told us to go straight to the dressing room in the rear. The dressing room turned out to be a storage room for empty bottles and we had no mirrors, chairs, or anything to hang our clothes on. While we were changing, we could hear the solo colored pianist playing “The Nigger” and the white man played five up, “The Nigger” won the money and was scared to pick it up. We all looked at each other knowing this was going to be a drag. As we were going to the bandstand, the customers were yelling “Alright niggers get hot.”
During our first set behind their long bar, we could see gangsters and police officers trading money and were called twenty-five “black bastards”. All the big name jazz groups were playing this room and I wondered had they received this sort of treatment or had they been just waiting for us. Back in the “storage” room I asked all the guys did they want to quit and since nobody had any dependents, everybody agreed to split. I went up to the boss’s office and asked for my transportation.
My contract read I was to receive it upon arrival. He told me “Nigger, can’t you see I’m playing cards? I’ll give it to you tomorrow.” I went back and told the fellows what was happening, and that we were in trouble. I had a thirty-two pistol and my bass man had a thirty-eight. We knew we couldn’t carry the instruments and protect ourselves too, so we decided to leave them. We’d only gotten about ten feet when the boss and two of his cronies confronted us. I told him we were leaving. He said “look you black bastards, all the big names play here and they don’t mind being called a few
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