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1
KICKING THE MOON AROUND
© kamusico
THE STORY OF AMBROSE & HIS ORCHESTRA
by
Steve Rawton
PUBLISHED BY
KAMUSICO™
© 2007/12 KAMUSICO All Rights Reserved International Copyright Secured
This publication may be freely downloaded from the internet on condition that no
changes will be made to the text or general layout. Copying in digital and/or printed
form is permissible and copies may be privately distributed provided that the moral
rights of the originator under International Conventions are acknowledged.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Many people and organisations gave valuable assistance during the original research
phase of the project, including: - American Federation of Musicians, Billy Amstell,
Sylvester Ahola, Stanley Black, Billboard, BBC, British Film Institute, British
Museum Reading Room, Sam Browne, Camarata, Crescendo, George Chisholm,
Joe Collins, Joe Crossman, Decca Records (UK), Alan Dell (BBC), Down Beat,
EMI, Harry Francis (MU), Teddy Foster, Max Goldberg, Norman Hackforth,
Moira Heath, Max Jaffa, Joe Jeanette, Joan Linton, Ivor Mairants, MCA, Melody
Maker, Musicians Union, Radio Times, Ronnie Munro, Sid Phillips, Woolf
Phillips, Brian Rust, Ronnie Scott, Anne Shelton, Joyce Stone, Eric Winstone,
Elisabeth Welch.
And for more recent help and advice thanks are due to: - the British Library, Dave
Cooper, English Heritage, Gordon Howsden (Memory Lane), Richard Johnson,
Malcolm Laycock, David McGowan (BBC-Written Archives Centre), Grahame
Newnham, the Theatre Museum, and Mark Willerton.
CONTENTS
I
II
III
IV
V
VI
VII
Band Line-up Index
Personnel Index
1917 – 1926
1927 – 1930
1931 – 1933
1934 – 1937
1938 – 1940
1941 – 1949
1950 – 1971
2
31
84
131
194
244
280
288
289
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I
1917-1926
The year in which Bertram Ambrose came into existence is not known for certain. It is
of course somewhat unusual to say that a person ‘came into existence’. But the
reference here is really to the stage name that this person seems to have adopted in
place of his real one. The assumption that this switch did take place is based on the
fact that searches in all the usual places have failed to discover the official existence of
a ‘Bert Ambrose’ before the early 1920s. Ambrose never revealed that his name was of
the ‘stage’ variety, and was somewhat cagey about his age, asserting that he was born
‘around the turn of the century’. None of this would matter much were it not for the
difficulty of commenting on previously published accounts about Ambrose’s early life
and career. Most of these are contradictory and confusing and it would be nice to
provide a definitive version. Because this is not presently possible the best that can be
done is to present a synthesised account up to the mid-1920s, after which we are on
somewhat firmer ground. So here goes…
‘Ambrose’ was born in 1896 and spent his early childhood years in the leafy
North London suburb of Stamford Hill. His father was ‘something in textiles’ and,
although not musical himself, encouraged his son to take up the violin. According to
Ambrose: ‘I was only six-and-a-half when my father bought me a small fiddle…then
engaged a street musician, no less, to give me my first lessons...he got half-a-crown for
each lesson, and I got sixpence every time I practiced… a “professional” right from the
start!’ Ambrose’s musical endeavours were interrupted by the First World War. He
later commented: ‘Mother was worried about the Zeppelins – the newspapers all
carried graphic accounts of how London would be reduced to rubble when - not if they came over and dropped bombs on us…so, I was packed-off to America…to my
aunt who lived in New York.’ After arriving in the United States Ambrose spent a year
or so completing his education and music studies, then obtained his union ‘ticket’, and
became a professional musician.
His first regular job was with a symphony orchestra based in New York, but
this did not last long and he was soon freelancing for a musicians’ agency. This
involved playing mainly in theatre and cinema pit orchestras, and was no doubt
excellent experience for a novice player still not sure which branch of the profession he
wanted to join. At some stage he became convinced that dance music would provide
the best opportunity for progress given his limited musical abilities. He successfully
auditioned for pianist-bandleader Emil Coleman - but was fired after two weeks for
impudence! After this he played with a quintet at Reisenwebber’s Restaurant for a
while, and then drummer-bandleader Murray Pilcer invited him to join the prestigious
Sherbo’s Orchestra. It always amused Ambrose to recall that there were six fiddles in
the orchestra and that he played the sixth! This appears to have been the last time that
he worked as a sideman because after this engagement he formed a five-piece band
under the name of ‘Bertram Ambrose’. Residencies at the fashionable Club deVingt in
Manhattan and the exclusive Palais Royal on Broadway then came his way. At some
point he increased the size of his band to seven players. In the early 1920s Ambrose
received an invitation from London-based impresario DeCourville to bring his band to
London for an engagement at the exclusive Embassy Club.
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Although Ambrose intended to return to America at the end of his six-month
contract he didn’t immediately do so, and despite problems recruiting suitable
replacements for musicians who periodically left, and other difficulties, he continued to
play at the Embassy Club, intermittently at first and then continuously until 1927.
Leaving aside Ambrose’s story for the moment, we must now consider the kind
of music he was playing, how it came about – and related topics. The terms ‘dance
music’ and ‘danceband’ would seem to require little explanation, but have to be put
into the context of the era concerned. The years between 1900 and 1920 will suit our
purpose nicely, and no apology need be made for firstly confining our attention to the
United States. At the turn of the century American social dancing had two distinct
aspects – rural and urban. In remote rural areas various kinds of ethnic folk music were
used for dancing, but rural towns (particularly those in proximity to a railroad) had by
now adopted the ‘barndance’. Folk-based dancing depended on local traditions,
whereas the barndance had formal steps (based on a European import – the ‘pas de
quatre’). In both cases string bands – invariably led by fiddle players – were the usual
means of providing the music. Due to segregation African-American communities
developed their own kinds of social dancing served by a distinctly different kind of
music derived mainly from their own folk culture, although there was some
interchange. In the cities and larger towns the distinction in dance styles was more a
matter of social class and ethnic origin. The latter was important because of the number
of immigrants flowing into the United States, many bringing musical and dancing
traditions with them. However, the upper and middle classes inevitably set the standard
for social dancing. This standard was based on imported European dances, principally
the waltz and the polka. For these dances the Viennese-type string orchestra found
most favour. This usually comprised violins, violas, cellos, double bass and
(sometimes) timpani. The archetypal Viennese bandleader was, of course, Johann
Strauss – the Waltz King. However, by the turn of the century such orchestras were
threatened by the popularity of a new dance that was entirely American in origin – the
‘Boston’, or ‘two-step’. It wasn’t so much that Viennese-type bands couldn’t play twosteps, but rather that they sounded better played by concert or military bands
comprising brass and woodwind instruments. Such bands, associated with the music of
John Philip Sousa, were very popular by this time. Moreover they could cope with
waltzes and polkas to a more acceptable standard than string orchestras could handle
two-steps.
But something else became popular around the turn of the century, a kind of
music for which the Viennese-type dance orchestra was totally unsuited – ragtime!
Although ragtime was a fusion of elements originating in both black and white folkcultures, it was at first associated with the banjo-accompanied minstrel shows that
toured in rural areas. By the late 19th Century it had emerged as piano music,
popularised by composers like W.H. Krell (Mississippi Rag) and Scott Joplin (Maple
Leaf Rag).
Now ragtime essentially has a syncopated melody line over a regular bass line.
(The beat in the melody line is displaced and doesn’t fall where it should, according to
convention.) Syncopation had long been common in folk music and was the basis for
much of the music that came from black Africa. Although found in classical music, it
had not been commonly applied to commercial popular music.
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Had ragtime remained music for the piano there would have been no problem,
but composers of popular marches – including Sousa – soon realised that syncopation
could be used to spice-up their own output. Although it was really ragtime-influenced
music rather than pure ragtime, it became hugely popular. Then someone came-up with
the idea of applying ragtime to dance music. A syncopated ‘hesitation waltz’ was
introduced and this soon became popular. However young Americans in particular had
become bored with the old dances, even in syncopated form, and started to look for
something more exciting. Because of segregation, African-Americans in urban areas
had been obliged to develop their own forms of popular culture, including distinctive
kinds of social dancing. One syncopated African-American dance in particular - the
‘cakewalk’ – was taken-up by the white community and became something of a craze.
It’s popularity soon spread to Europe, and the music associated with it – ‘ragged
music’ – even came to the attention of avant-garde classical composers - Debussy
included a version of it in his Children’s Suit. One important connecting link between
black and white popular cultures at this time was ‘vaudeville’.
Vaudeville developed from the touring minstrel shows that were for decades an
important feature of American light entertainment. The growth of cities and towns, and
railroads connecting them, made variety theatres viable all over the country, and by the
end of the 19th Century a thriving ‘vaudeville circuit’ employed hundreds of touring
artists. One tradition that passed from minstrelsy to vaudeville was the parodying of
African-American singing and dancing by white performers wearing ‘black-face’. Now
considered grotesque and racist, this tradition did at least enable white audiences to
appreciate what the black community had to offer, however distorted the presentation.
By 1900 black artists were appearing in vaudeville, even though they were usually low
on the bill and always – bizarrely – obliged to apply black-face! And it was principally
these black vaudevillians who demonstrated, on stage, the various dances popular in
African-American communities. Young white Americans in particular saw these
syncopated dances as exciting alternatives to what they already had and were
becoming bored with. The fact that the older generation were unlikely to approve
merely added to the attraction! And so the stage was set for the introduction of ‘animal
dances’ into the mainstream.
Animal dances were different because as originally conceived they were
shamelessly sensual and uninhibited. Popular in the black sub-culture of Southern
cities like New Orleans and St Louis their very names were indicative of their erotic
nature – ‘funky monkey’, ‘bunny hug’, ‘grizzly bear’ and ‘gobble goose’ were just
some of the early examples. Of course black vaudeville artists refined them somewhat,
but this merely made the demand for them among mainstream dancers unstoppable.
Most did not last very long but by 1910 some animal dances had just about become
acceptable in polite society. By this time the demand for all kinds of dance music had
grown enormously since the turn of the century. At this time America was exceedingly
prosperous (except in the Deep South) and a substantial middle class had money to
spend and leisure time to fill. Entertainment of all kinds was in great demand and this
included provision for social dancing. Every town and city now had public dance halls
and the craze for dancing had even spread to fashionable hotels and restaurants. All
this meant much work for orchestras and bands able to provide the kind of up-to-date
music that dancers now demanded – including ragtime. By 1910 the Viennese-type
dance orchestra was no longer predominant in the United States; the waltz and polka
were still in demand, but they were not now at the top of the popularity list.
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In order to accommodate the new kinds of dance music, orchestra leaders
compromised by reducing their string sections, adding brass players, and tentatively
introducing rhythm instruments. The prototype was the theatre pit band. The only clue
we have now of what dancebands might have sounded like comes from the ‘stock
arrangements’ of certain tunes, issued by music publishers for bands and orchestras. At
best these can only be described as ragtime-influenced arrangements. Suffice to say
that early jazz styles had not yet affected mainstream dance music. After 1910, though,
things started to move in that direction – slowly but surely.
Apart from their importance in popularising novel dance steps, vaudeville and
musical theatre were also crucial when it came to promoting the popular songs of the
day. Recorded sound was still in its infancy and broadcasting still at the experimental
stage, so music publishers had to rely on direct methods in order sell their sheet music.
By now all the important publishing firms were in New York, mostly centred on West
28th Street – Tin Pan Alley. Sheet music sales were big business and a sizeable chunk
consisted of popular songs. Before 1910 sentimental ballads, ‘heart songs’ and novelty
tunes accounted for most ‘hits’, but after ragtime dancing caught-on popular music
tastes started to change. In 1911 songwriter Irving Berlin published Alexander’s
Ragtime Band and after exposure in vaudeville it became a major hit. Thousands of
others – good, bad and indifferent – would follow over the next few years. Most
weren’t ragtime as defined by composers like Scott Joplin, but that no longer mattered
to the public at large. But if ragtime music was being coarsened, the dances associated
with it were undergoing a process of refinement under the auspices of a remarkable
young couple called Irene and Vernon Castle.
It is impossible to overemphasise the importance of Irene and Vernon Castle so
far as social dancing and dance music are concerned. Vernon Castle was an English
song-and-dance performer working in American vaudeville around 1908 when he first
met Irene, a stage-struck teenager with a talent for dancing. Together they devised a
stage act that included novelty dances ‘lifted’ from various ethnic folk cultures –
including ‘animal’ dances. By ‘refining’ these dances they effectively made them
suitable for ballroom use and this led to requests for stage demonstrations. By 1912
they had become phenomenally successful and were touring all over the United States,
demonstrating the latest dance steps. And their influence wasn’t confined to the dance
floor - clothing, footwear, hairstyles and social conventions were just a few of the
things that came within their ambit. The effect of the Castles’ interventionist approach
is illustrated by Irene’s successful campaign to banish whalebone corsets and multilayered undergarments from the respectable woman’s wardrobe. By 1915 the Castles
had set up dancing schools and dance halls in several major cities, and had many
business interests related to dancing. They were instrumental in feeding every major
dance craze until the United States entered the First World War in 1917.
Some of these dances were very much in vogue when Ambrose embarked on
his danceband career, so we need to give them some consideration. One animal dance
in particular, the ‘turkey trot’ (or ‘one-step’), survived much longer than stable-mates
like the ‘horse trot’, ‘bunny-hug’ and ‘grizzly bear’. Another dance, the ‘foxtrot’ was
not an animal dance as such, but owed its existence to a vaudeville performer called
Harry Fox, who introduced it during the ‘ZIEGFELD FOLLIES OF 1914’. The Castles
turned ‘Fox’s trot’ into the foxtrot. Although refined, it remained a lively dance until
emasculated by the English some years later.
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Both the one-step and the (original) foxtrot were essentially ragtime dances, but
other dances introduced by the Castles required music of a somewhat different nature.
Most of these didn’t last very long, but while they remained popular dance orchestras
had to adapt their playing accordingly. Other dance variations also popularised
Neapolitan, Hawaiian and Brazilian musical forms. Only the Brazilian ‘maxixe’ made
a lasting impression by starting the vogue for Latin American-based dances.
The Castles also introduced a simplified version of the ‘tango’, a dance
originating in Argentina. In fact a version of it had been popular as an exhibition dance
in Europe for some years before its import into the United States, but few nonprofessional dancers could master the flamboyant steps before it was given the Castle
treatment. It was these new - especially ragtime - dances that predominated so far as
the essentially youthful activity of public social dancing was concerned. Perhaps more
surprisingly, these dances were also adopted by High Society, the nearest thing that
America had to an aristocracy and shrewd enough to embrace, rather than resist, trends
likely to be irresistible to their own offspring. Moralists might strenuously object to the
turkey trot and its ilk, but for most Americans what was good enough for the Astors,
Vanderbilts, Rockefellers, and Mrs Styvesant-Fish was good enough for them!
Before 1910, or thereabouts, dance orchestras could more or less ignore the
output of Tin Pan Alley, concerned as the latter was primarily with popular songs.
Unless popular songs happened to be waltzes or polkas their basic tunes were largely
irrelevant. When ragtime dancing came into vogue, things started to change. Instead of
merely wanting tunes to sing to, the pubic started to demand tunes to dance to as well.
Of course music publishers had supplied the latter for some time in the form of stock
arrangements of instrumental pieces. Sometimes these were original compositions, but
there was also a lively trade in adapting classical themes for dance orchestra use. When
ragtime became common to both popular song and dance music the two genres became
interlinked. And from this time on dance orchestras based their music mainly on the
output of Tin Pan Alley. At first it was only the tune that was of interest – the
incorporation of vocal content into dance music was a long way off. This may have
irked music publishers somewhat, but there was still mileage to be had even from half
exposure of a popular item. Hits of the time were defined by known sales of sheet
music. As early as 1913 the music industry trade paper Billboard regularly published
lists of the top-selling tunes – an early kind of Hit Parade. (At this time record sales of
pop music were insignificant.) To get some idea of the type of music dance orchestras
were required to play around the time Ambrose joined their ranks we can take a look at
the titles of some popular tunes from 1915 to 1920: - St Louis Blues, Missouri Waltz,
That’s A Plenty, Jelly Roll Blues, Neapolitan Love Song, On The Beach At Waikiki,
Ragging The Scale, Beal Street Blues, Bugle Call Rag, Livery Stable Blues, Honky
Tonk Town, Johnson Rag, Nola, Indianola, McNamara’s Band, Rose Room, Tiger Rag,
After You’ve Gone, Hindustan, At The Jazz Band Ball, Bluin’ The Blues, Dollar Blues,
The Darktown Strutters’ Ball, Dardanella, Royal Garden Blues, Swanee, Sugar Blues,
That Naughty Waltz, Barnyard Blues, Aunt Hager’s Blues, Jazz Baby’s Ball, Home
Again Blues, Rose Of Washington Square. Some of these titles, and the tunes they
represent, may be familiar to readers – particularly those that became ‘standards’ and
jazz classics. However, what’s important for now is the inevitability that they would
have featured in the dance music repertoire of the time – and this gives us some idea of
what Ambrose had to offer as a successful bandleader. What these tunes actually
sounded like when played by dance orchestras is more difficult to discover.
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Of course some dance orchestras did record instrumental versions of these
songs, but the end-results are not necessarily representative due to the nature of the
acoustic recording process then used. Because Ambrose only participated in early
recording sessions as a sideman in Sherbo’s Orchestra and not as a bandleader, we
shall leave a detailed discussion of records and recording techniques until later.
However, we must take a closer look at the dance orchestras of the time as musical
entities, the types of instruments employed, the way they were played and the methods
of orchestration used. Inevitably, it’s the American experience that’s all-important, and
as the titles of the tunes previously listed suggest, the terms ‘rag’, ‘blues’ and ‘jazz’
were in common use. Because of this we have to establish whether these terms were
used in a way that we would now accept as authentic – particularly as interpreted by
dance orchestras of the day.
As we have seen there was, after 1910, a distinct relationship between dance
music and the output of Tin Pan Alley. In both cases commercialism ruled the roost –
they were, after all, both products of the music industry. To regard this or that aspect of
popular music as ‘artistic’ would have struck those concerned with its production and
distribution as patently absurd. For example, ragtime as perfected by pianist-composer
Scott Joplin was a sophisticated and formalised type of music; as interpreted by
another pianist – Jelly Roll Morton – it had more of a novelty value. Because Morton’s
ragtime music caught on, and Joplin’s didn’t, it follows that the buying public wanted
popular music that was not ‘serious’. Of course ‘not serious’ isn’t the same thing as
‘not good’, even though musical purists sometimes think it is. The other two terms that
Tin Pan Alley ‘tunesmiths’ used at the time were ‘blues’ and ‘jazz’. Now whatever one
thinks of ragtime there’s absolutely no doubt that blues and jazz came to be taken very
seriously indeed, and both eventually became accepted as art forms. At the time this
was not the case, at least with the public at large, and like other influences impinging
on popular music they were regarded as ephemeral novelties. Even so, just as Tin Pan
Alley had to cater for changing tastes in dance as well as song, orchestra leaders were
obliged to produce the appropriate sounds. Inevitably, this affected the types of
musical instrument employed, the playing techniques used, and the orchestrations (or
arrangements) by means of which the players as a unit produced the sounds required.
For dance orchestras the years between 1910 and 1920 were essentially years of
rapid change. Any discernable common approach to instrumental line-up was due to
the use of ‘stock orchestrations’. Top music publishers had always provided these,
which accounts for the more-or-less standard instrumentation adopted by a wide
variety of bands and orchestras. When pop songs started to be used for dancing
publishers merely produced an instrumental version based on a song’s catchiest
melodies, usually lifted from the chorus. These were repeated over and over with
various musical embellishments added. Any variety came from key changes and/or
different melody instruments taking the lead. (This later became the standard format
for strict-tempo ballroom orchestras). Not terribly interesting from a musical point of
view, but clearly suitable for the intended purpose. Stock orchestrations for
dancebands catered for a select range of instruments based essentially on those used in
small theatre orchestras, although it was only in this instrumental respect that the two
were similar – a greater degree of musical versatility would have been required from a
pit band! The standard stock orchestration only consisted of a score sheet, and
bandleaders had to have each instrumental part copied-out as required.
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Although the widespread use of these orchestrations did lead to a degree of
uniformity so far as instrumental line-up was concerned, bandleaders could (and
innovative ones did) add subtle embellishments in an effort to create a distinctive
‘sound’. Eventually this requirement led to an awareness of a new musical form that
could be used to make such embellishments exciting as well as subtle – jazz!
In 1912 African-American bandleader William Handy composed and published
Memphis Blues and two years later his St Louis Blues appeared. Both were essentially
blues songs, although at the time they were more popular as instrumentals played in
ragtime. Some years later Handy wrote stock arrangements of his and other composers’
tunes for publishers and it was in connection with this service that he is supposed to
have introduced the ‘jazz-break’. If true, then some commercial dance orchestras after
1915 were using arrangements that had jazz-like links between the repeated melody
sections. Whether regular musicians actually made these phrases sound ‘jazzy’ is a
moot point, but there is some evidence that around this time some orthodox players in
cities like Chicago, New York and San Francisco were frequenting clubs in which
genuine improvised blues-cum-ragtime music was being played. One such club was
Leroy’s in New York City. It was here that a young white clarinet player learnt to play
in a ‘hot’ and (seemingly) improvised way. His name was Ted Lewis and later he got
together a group of like-minded white players and formed a band for an engagement at
the College Inn on Coney Island. At best this was only a proto-jazz band, and the
comic antics that accompanied the music must have been a major distraction.
Nevertheless, Lewis’ band – and others like it – paved the way for the Jazz Craze that
gathered momentum in New York after 1917. A band that originated in New Orleans
but had come to New York via engagements in Chicago – the Original Dixieland Jazz
Band (ODJB) - triggered this craze. Had the ODJB been the definitive influence on
jazz-based dance music it would be possible to take our discussion on from the time
that it first appeared in New York.
But this is not the case, so we have to go back to the turn of the century and
consider the music scene in the city of New Orleans. Like Vienna, New Orleans was a
city of music, music and more music. It is almost impossible to think of any musical
form that did not flourish in New Orleans by the end of the 19th Century. Just as
important is the fact that the three main ethnic groups in New Orleans society – black,
white and creole – shared the enthusiasm for these forms of music. While it would be
wrong to say that New Orleans was the only source of the music that chiefly concerns
us, it is still the best place to start from. Tradition has it that the first band to play a
rudimentary form of ‘jazz’ (note that this term was not in common use until later) was
that led by African-American cornettist Buddy Bolden. Among other things Bolden’s
band played dance music at the delightfully named Funky Butt Hall. Here animal
dances like the ‘buzzard lope’ and ‘kangaroo dip’ vied with erotica such as the ‘grind’,
‘smootch’, ‘slow drag’, and ‘wiggle-butt’ in the popularity stakes. The music was as
uninhibited as the dance motions and essentially consisted of a swinging ensemble
version of ragtime fused with the blues. Crucially, Bolden had discovered a collective
improvisational style that transcended current musical styles – not as a result of
intellectual analysis but by chance. Perhaps others were making the same discovery at
the same time – and would certainly have done so later. However it was Bolden’s band
that came to be acknowledged as a primary originator of the musical form that would
come to be called ‘jazz’.
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To say that Bolden’s style became popular in New Orleans in the first few
years of the 20th Century would be an understatement. By 1905 Bolden was running
several bands all over town, and other bands had started to imitate his style. Bolden
achieved his particular ‘sound’ with an instrumental line-up comprising: - cornet,
trombone, clarinet, guitar, double bass (played with a bow) and drums. Essentially the
band comprised two sections – ‘horns’, in which the trombone supplied connecting
links between melodic phrases played by the cornet, and the clarinet played obligato
figures above - and ‘rhythm’, in which the guitar, double bass and drums provided a
rhythmic background and the bass line. It was the relationship between these two
sections as well as the improvisation employed by both that distinguished Bolden’s
band from ordinary ragtime bands. As we shall see, refinements in both
instrumentation and playing styles occurred as jazz developed over the years, but the
essential ingredients were there, in New Orleans in the early years of the 20th Century.
Our primary concern is of course with the development of dance music rather
than jazz but no apologies need be made for dwelling on the jazz side. Dance music
could not have taken the form it eventually did without the influence of jazz – and jazz
may not have developed in the way it did without its early links to ‘straight’ dance
music. Indeed, it is possible that the first attempts to present jazz as music to listen to,
rather than dance to, were detrimental because these attempts were made in vaudeville
where novelty and hilarity, rather than musical subtlety, reigned supreme. It was also
for presentational reasons that Bolden’s prototypical band line-up underwent changes,
not necessarily for the better. The guitar, double bass and bass drum played in jazz
mode are ‘felt’ as much as ‘heard’…and may not even be heard at all away from the
bandstand! Such subtleties were lost on vaudeville impresarios, and the banjo and tuba
replaced their more versatile counterparts in the rhythm section. There was, however,
one addition to the rhythm section that was entirely welcome – the piano. This was a
much greater innovation at the time than might now be appreciated. The piano was not
then regarded as a standard dance orchestra instrument. At some point in the early
1900s it occurred to someone that the piano had sufficient versatility to contribute to a
band’s rhythm section if only some way could be devised for achieving this. No easy
task because of the degree of musical dexterity required. Most pianists could cope with
the syncopated melody line in ragtime numbers because the base line was entirely
conventional, and anyway both lines were fully notated. But jazz requirements were
quite different whether the piano was played as a solo instrument or as part of an
ensemble. The ‘someone’ who cracked this problem was Jelly Roll Morton – or so he
later claimed! Certainly by 1915 solo piano was being played in a ‘jazzy’ rather than
‘raggy’ way at clubs like Leroy’s, and was being used as a rhythm, rather than melody,
instrument in some dance orchestras. In the latter case it was either grafted-on to the
usual rhythm line-up, or in small bands used to provide most or all of the rhythm
section requirements.
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Another rhythm section instrument that gradually gained acceptance among the
trendier dance orchestras was the drum set. This also was a cross over from jazz bands
appearing on the vaudeville circuit. Early versions were somewhat primitive and
consisted of a bass drum (smaller than later ones), snare drum, a suspended cymbal,
and (sometimes) a pair of floor-level foot-operated cymbals. The pedal-operated bass
drum and high-level foot-operated cymbals were not yet in general use. This meant
that a technique known as ‘double drumming’ had to be used in order play bass and
snare drums simultaneously, but this was quite effective when done properly.
Considering that one player was doing what at least three or more players were doing
in a military or concert band it comes as no surprise that the drum kit was considered a
great novelty when it first appeared – and also caused some concern among orthodox
percussionists, for the same reason. Stock orchestrations of the time don’t appear to
have catered for percussion so orchestra leaders must have relied on their drummer’s
extemporising ability. As we shall see, this became something of a tradition and lasted
well into the era when most danceband musicians were expected to be good ‘readers’.
The first published stock orchestration for dance orchestras written in jazz,
rather than ragtime, style appeared around 1916. It was a foxtrot based on Jelly Roll
Morton’s composition Jelly Roll Blues. Because this was also a popular hit song, this
new kind of orchestration aroused some interest among danceband leaders and
musicians, but few knew how to get the best out of the new style. It did however show
that alternative approaches to scoring were possible and might enable dance orchestras
to replicate some of the excitement generated by the proto-jazz bands then appearing
on vaudeville stages and in African-American clubs. After all, the basic tunes were
identical. By this time Irene and Vernon Castle were at the height of their popularity.
Among the many enterprises that they were involved in was the opening of a huge
ballroom – Castles by the Sea - at New York’s Long Beach. Here, Sherbo’s Orchestra,
a band that still owed more to ragtime than emerging jazz styles, provided the dance
music. The Castles also continued to tour the vaudeville and cabaret circuits, and for
this work they hired a musical director called James Europe. He was an AfricanAmerican with an outstanding musical talent, and a determination to promote the
interests of black musicians. For the Castles, Europe formed a fourteen-piece band
called the Syncopated Society Orchestra. His approach to music was rag, rather than
jazz, oriented, but the critical point is that the array of instruments he employed
demanded dedicated – rather than stock – orchestrations. The combination of
instrumental variety and tailor-made arrangements gave his bands a distinctive ‘sound’,
an advantage that soon attracted the attention of other bandleaders. Despite this the, by
now, standard danceband line-up comprising front-line melody instruments and a
rhythm section (with strings an optional extra) remained the norm. By 1917, then, a
genuine form of jazz music had spread (mainly) from New Orleans to other cities in
the United States and was starting to influence dance music. This would have
continued to be the case had the ODJB never existed, but it did exist, and it’s arrival in
New York in 1917 just happened to coincided with the public’s need for a new ‘craze’
to latch-on to.
The ODJB certainly originated in New Orleans but was only ‘original’ insofar
as it was the first band to popularise the words ‘jazz’ and ‘Dixieland’. The five-piece
line-up comprised cornet, trombone, clarinet, piano and drums – and the playing style
represented post-Bolden developments popular at the time in New Orleans. In New
York the ODJB merely repeated what it had been doing a year before in Chicago.
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It was an instant success when it played for dancers at the Paradise Ballroom
and then Reisenwebber’s Restaurant. In February 1917 the ODJB made some records,
and when these were issued the band became a countrywide, and then international,
sensation. These early ODJB titles, though clearly jazz-based, really owed their
overwhelming success to exuberance and novelty value rather than jazz content. That
much better jazz was being played outside the ranks of the ODJB is now taken for
granted, but at the time this was not generally appreciated. The Jazz Craze sparked by
the ODJB meant that genuine jazz players now had a chance to emerge from obscurity
and form bands that had some chance of commercial success. It also attracted many
imitators – some genuine, others not. Bandleaders anxious to satisfy an obvious
demand and run with the trend started to hire musicians who could at least simulate
jazz styles. Orthodox players went to jazz clubs in order to listen and learn, and by
1919 ragtime as such was beginning to sound like ‘yesterdays music’. Even so, the
New Orleans style of jazz was not entirely suitable for dance orchestras and a new
approach soon emerged.
No mention has yet been made of the saxophone, one of the instruments now
closely associated with jazz and dancebands. The reason for this is that the early
formulators of these genres generally ignored the saxophone. Saxophones were
originally introduced in the 19th Century so that the sounds made by string sections in
concert orchestras could be replicated in marching bands. Each member of the
saxophone family (alto, tenor, baritone, etc.) was intended to correspond to one or
other of the string family. But New Orleans jazz pioneers didn’t see the need either for
strings or their equivalents. And dance orchestra leaders preferred the real thing.
Despite this some musicians did take-up saxophone playing and started to present
vaudeville acts based on its novelty value. A performer dressed as a clown, wearing
blackface and tooting on a saxophone was considered hilarious - and two, or three, or
more, each with a different size of saxophone, even more so! However some
vaudeville saxophonists did become popular mainly for the music they produced. For
example Rudy Wiedoeft on C-melody Saxophone became a popular recording artist
after 1916. However, it was two years later that a saxophone-playing duo – Bert Ralton
and Clyde Doerr – unwittingly triggered a minor revolution in jazz and danceband
styles. To explore this development we have to turn our attention to the music scene on
the West Coast of the United States.
Jazz travelled along the Mississippi from New Orleans to Chicago, then by
railroad east to New York City and west to San Francisco…or so the legend goes! It is
true, however, that by 1915 African-Americans in West Coast cities had established
clubs and dance halls where New Orleans-style jazz was being played. Despite
segregation a degree of interchange took place between black and white musicians.
One of the latter was bandleader Art Hickman. He became interested in jazz after
hearing one of the club bands.
Around the same time Hickman hired a pianist-arranger called Ferde Grofe.
Now Grofe started out in classical music and apart from playing the violin had studied
formal music theory to an advanced level. Grofe remained interested in classical music
but also developed a passion for jazz. Out of interest, he subjected jazz tunes to the
same kind of analysis that might be applied to classical pieces and so figured-out their
technical characteristics. Jazz musicians at the time had little or no interest in scored
music; invariably they were improvisers and some of the best couldn’t even read
music.
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Like most rock groups now, their collective efforts were achieved by trial and
error - the ODJB being the supreme example. Dancebands however were another
matter, and Grofe transferred his attention to the stock orchestrations that by this time
were beginning to include the jazzy embellishments mentioned earlier. He also gave a
great deal of thought to the instrumental line-up that these kinds of orchestration
catered for. The musical technicalities involved in the work that Grofe undertook are
somewhat complex and need not be considered here. Suffice to say that what resulted
was a revised approach to dance orchestra instrumentation, and a new method of
arranging for it. And this led to the incorporation of the saxophone as an essential part
of the new format.
Art Hickman was well aware of what Grofe was trying to do when he hired
him. Grofe was given a free hand to reorganise the band and produce arrangements. At
some point Hickman/Grofe became aware of the Ralton/Doerr saxophone team, and
they were hired to provide a ‘missing ingredient’ that Grofe identified when analysing
dance orchestra instrumentation. Here, then, was a new tailor-made ‘sound’ for the
dance orchestra and when the Hickman band started to use it the results were
electrifying. It would take many years, and the efforts of other innovators, to perfect
the dance orchestra as a musical entity, but Grofe had started the ball rolling. Art
Hickman’s fame soon spread beyond San Francisco, and in 1919 he came to New York
for some high profile engagements. The band’s success there was as phenomenal as it
had been in San Francisco, and any bandleader wanting to stay ahead of the field had
little choice but to take note. Most of the top ones did, of course, and the scramble was
then on to hire saxophonists and/or induce clarinettists already in-post to ‘double’ on
sax. So far as the new arranging method was concerned music publishers were slow in
figuring-out what was required, and bandleaders had to up-date their output as best
they could. However, most couldn’t…at least not quickly enough to avoid being
eclipsed by the next phenomenon to hit town – Paul Whiteman!
Paul Whiteman was another classically trained musician who became
disillusioned with the career opportunities available in his chosen profession. While
playing viola in the San Francisco Symphony Orchestra around 1916 he became
interested in the kind of music then being played in jazz clubs. This was essentially the
kind of New Orleans-style jazz that was also intriguing Art Hickman and Ferde Grofe.
When the United States entered the First World War, Whiteman was drafted into the
navy and eventually put in charge of a fifty-seven piece marching band. On discharge
he returned to San Francisco and used his gratuity to start a dance orchestra. While
playing at the Fairmont Hotel in 1919 he became aware of the popularity of Art
Hickman’s band, and reorganised his own outfit along the same lines.
Whiteman had sufficient orchestrating skills to make his own ‘sound’ similar to
Hickman’s, and while Hickman was in New York Whiteman’s band became a numberone attraction on the West Coast. When Hickman returned to San Francisco from New
York in 1920 Paul Whiteman decided to try his own luck in the Big Apple, but not
before ‘poaching’ Ferde Grofe from Hickman’s band. Once settled in New York,
Whiteman lost no time in taking advantage of the opportunities on offer and signed a
recording contract with Victor. One of the first records to be released in the autumn of
1920 included the tune Whispering and one year later this record alone had sold over
one million copies. Clearly, Paul Whiteman was offering something unique when he
opened at the Palais Royal in October 1920.
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We don’t know for sure what Ambrose’s 1920 American band was like either
in respect of line-up or personnel, however it is believed to have been a septet,
comprising:- piano, drums, banjo, alto sax/clarinet, tenor sax/clarinet, second
violin…and Ambrose leading on first violin.
The Whiteman/Grofe line-up was different insofar as two cornets and a
trombone were included in the front line. Whiteman also had three saxophones - two
altos and one tenor, with all sax players doubling on clarinet. The rhythm instruments
comprised piano, banjo, and drums. This, then, was the kind of nine-piece band that
Paul Whiteman took into the Palais Royal about the time his first records were
released. Later, a tuba and a couple of fiddles were added, giving a twelve-piece
combination that came to be accepted as the prototypical dance orchestra for much of
the Roaring Twenties. The Whiteman/Grofe partnership had more innovations in the
pipeline, which will be discussed later. For now, we shall leave an America adjusting
to the sounds of Paul Whiteman and the consequences of Prohibition and join Ambrose
at the Embassy Club.
At this prestigious venue Ambrose was certainly following in the footsteps of
some interesting predecessors. For example Benny Peyton’s Jazz Kings, an AfricanAmerican group that presented New Orleans-style jazz with the polish of a society
dance orchestra. It successfully played at the Embassy for some months from the
autumn of 1919. For some of this time their clarinettist was jazz giant Sidney Bechet.
The Jazz Kings were not the only band to visit London in the immediate post war
years. Others had preceded them, and the ODJB and Murray Pilcer’s Jazz Band were
contemporaneous. These bands – and notable individual jazz musicians (mostly white)
– were drawn to London (and also Paris) because of public demand for a kind of music
that indigenous musicians could not supply with the same degree of authenticity. It had
been the same when ragtime first spread to Europe before the war. Although European
musicians soon learnt to master the rudiments of ragtime, jazz presented difficulties
that took somewhat longer to resolve. Of course some of the jazzmen who came to
Europe played pseudo-jazz rather than the real thing, but this was certainly not so with
the Jazz Kings. And it was a ‘king-in-waiting’ – Edward, Prince of Wales – who was
one of their greatest admirers.
Now this might seem like an off-the-cuff remark, but it isn’t! Edward was the
Embassy Club’s most important member, because where he went High Society went,
and what he liked they liked…and so on! Now Edward liked jazz and ‘hot’ dance
music and any club that wanted to retain his patronage had to supply as much of what
he liked as possible. However bands move on, and the Jazz Kings were hired to replace
the ODJB at the Hammersmith Palais – a large public dance hall in West London. As
there was no danger of Edward following the Jazz Kings to their new venue, it was
merely a matter of replacing them at the Embassy with successive alternatives Ambrose’s outfit being one of these. Although we don’t know what his band sounded
like, we do know that Edward liked it, and that was what really mattered to the
Embassy’s management! Ambrose’s first-hand familiarity with New York’s popular
music scene must also have been significant because Edward occasionally invited
Ambrose over to his table to discuss such matters. What probably consolidated their
acquaintanceship, though, was Ambrose’s indulgence of Edward’s ambition to play the
drums! Ambrose later recalled: ‘When the mood took him he would sit in with the
band…the regular drummer didn’t mind too much and neither did I, although I can’t
say it did much for the tempo!’
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Hobnobbing with royalty had a knock-on effect that was certainly beneficial to
Ambrose’s career because it meant that top society hostesses simply had to secure his
services for their private functions, and this soon became a very nice little earner
indeed. And the fact that it was not always his regular band that undertook such gigs
didn’t seem to matter, just so long as Ambrose put in a brief appearance. As he later
reminisced: ‘I would slip out of the club, drive to wherever the second band was
playing, chat to the hostess for a while, scratch out Danny Boy on the fiddle, then
skidaddle back to the club…it was all done in about forty minutes. Eventually it got to
be a third band, then a fourth, and so on…and then we really were in the business!’
There was of course a world of difference between the Embassy Club and
Funky Butt Hall, although even in New Orleans the music scene was overwhelmingly
‘respectable’. Buddy Bolden’s proto-jazz bands might have had an exuberance in
keeping with the venues at which they played, but there were other, equally talented,
African-American musicians who were able to make the ‘new music’ acceptable in
more refined circles. Society dance orchestras of the ‘hot’ variety, like jazz bands in
general, had their beginnings in New Orleans, and some of the musicians who played
in them became great names in jazz and dance music. It should not surprise us, then, to
learn that Ambrose’s chief inspiration in the early years of the 1920s came not from the
likes of the ODJB or Paul Whiteman, but rather Armand Piron – an African-American
bandleader-violinist of exceptional ability who played at the famous Roseland
Ballroom in the early 1920s. The possibility that Ambrose matched Piron stylistically
seems remote, particularly as his band was smaller and lacked a brass section. So far as
anyone can remember Ambrose’s first band at the Embassy Club was similar to his
Palais Royal outfit and some of the personnel were possibly the same, at least for a
while.
For the first couple of years Ambrose had a high turnover of musicians, and he
was obliged to hire talent that could play ‘hot’ but not necessarily ‘read’ well.
Consequently problems arose when the band had to play for visiting cabaret artists, and
substitutes from a local pit orchestra sometimes had to be brought in. The musical
versatility that would become the hallmark of orchestras led by Ambrose was still
someway off.
It was probably the need to recruit replacement musicians that prompted
Ambrose’s intermittent return trips to America in the 1920s. The Embassy Club always
shut down for a couple of months at the end of the London Season (a combination of
sporting, cultural and social events) when High Society headed for the Riviera, etc.
There was also something of an exodus by the same kind of people in New York City,
escaping the stifling summer heat. No doubt Ambrose was able to combine pleasure
with business by taking advantage of the many delights on offer along the East Coast.
He was by now good at golf and tennis - in fact something of an all-round sportsman.
His other passion was gambling. Not yet the ferocious addiction that would later take
hold, but nevertheless the first steps towards it.
One big difference between nightspots in London and New York would have
been obvious to Ambrose – the nominal absence of alcoholic beverages in the latter,
for by now America was in the grip of Prohibition. The key word though is ‘nominal’
because alcohol of sorts could always be obtained at any time of the day or night albeit
on an illicit basis.
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Clubs that prior to 1920 – when Prohibition came into effect – had depended on
selling drinks had either closed-down or been taken over by gangsters and reopened as
‘speakeasies’. Any remaining respectable establishments like hotels had to make-do
with soft drinks. For many it wasn’t quite the same!
London’s nightlife didn’t have Prohibition to contend with, although the
somewhat quirky British licensing laws sometimes made life difficult for club owners.
Even the most prestigious establishments were in danger of a police raid if the moral
guardians reckoned that illicit consumption of alcohol was taking place. For some, this
added to the excitement of a night out on the town and the club owner who clocked-up
the greatest number of ‘pinches’ in any one year was usually proud of the fact. Of
course steps were taken to ensure that the Prince of Wales and his entourage never got
caught-up in such goings-on, and even those patrons who did merely faced the
embarrassment of having their names and addresses taken-down. Such laws were not
really directed at the upper classes, but rather the ‘toiling masses’ whose drinking
habits were considered to have a direct bearing on their propensity to actually work.
Clubs generally made their money from entry fees, cover charges and by selling
drinks at exorbitant prices. Food was served to comply with the licensing laws but was
not usually taken seriously – most of the patrons would have dined earlier and better.
And like club cuisine, club dancing was not treated as an art form. Dance floors were
invariably small and intricate dance steps, turns and glides impossible to do, especially
when the floor was crowded. The ambience that club managers aimed for was that of a
party rather than a ball. It was the function of club dancebands to aid and abet this
policy.
Some clubs had a cabaret or floorshow, usually just before midnight, after
which two or three hours of dancing took place until closing time in the wee small
hours. Many of the top hotels also provided facilities for non-residents to dine and
dance, but the dining part was usually taken much more seriously than in clubs. Most
hotels dating from pre-Edwardian times had a large ballroom originally intended for
private functions. By the 1920s most of these had been transformed into a restaurantcum-dance floor to cater for the ‘outside trade’. Modern hotels usually had similar, but
more up-to-date, facilities.
Hotels invariably observed the licensing laws much more strictly than clubs,
and usually closed earlier. This generally suited their mainly upper-middle class
clientele who had to get back to the suburbs after their big night out. And it was the
same for those top restaurants that also had facilities for dancing as well as dining.
Whereas nightclubs were essentially nightspots, hotels and restaurants sometimes
catered for teatime dancing. Tea dances and ‘tango teas’ became popular in the
‘twenties, at least with people who had time on their hands in the afternoon. Apart
perhaps from tea dancing, the actual process of dancing seems to have taken second, or
even third, place to just having a good time. But what about those dedicated followers
of Irene and Vernon Castle who did take ballroom dancing seriously? Public dance
halls and ballrooms catered for their needs. Dance halls had taken much longer to
become popular in Britain than in the United States where by 1910 all cities and major
towns had public dance halls. In Britain the trend only started in earnest after the war.
After the opening of the Hammersmith Palais in 1919 they spread slowly but surely,
and with them the need for provincial dance orchestras that could play in the same
style as their West End counterparts. Despite the class difference between a local
Palais de Dance and the Embassy Club, the dance tunes were essentially the same.
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In August 1923, after the Embassy Club had closed for the summer, Ambrose
once more crossed the Atlantic, but this time entirely for professional reasons. He had
been engaged to front a band at the Clover Gardens in New York. This was a dinnerdance establishment that ranked midway between the highly exclusive Palais Royal
and the just-about respectable Roseland Ballroom. Little is known about this
engagement except that Ambrose’s fee was substantial for the six weeks involved.
However, it can be inferred that he was a success because when the engagement
finished in early September he was asked to stay on for a further six weeks. Ambrose
agreed and arranged for someone to deputise at the Embassy during his absence. All
was well until the Prince of Wales turned-up one night and found Ambrose missing.
There and then he cabled to New York: ‘PLEASE RETURN IMMEDIATELY STOP
THE EMBASSY NEEDS YOU STOP’. Whether Ambrose obeyed this royal
command ‘immediately’ is not known but he was certainly back at the Embassy by
Christmas.
As in America, British dance orchestras used popular tunes of the time. In fact
they were essentially the same tunes! Some of the big New York publishers had
branches in London; others sold their wares through British firms. Very little of the
kind of music that appealed to dancers originated in Britain. Hardly surprising given
that much of this music was ragtime and jazz, based. As with the dance crazes, there
was a little delay in these popular tunes crossing the Atlantic, but cross it they certainly
did. Essentially, dance orchestras in Britain had the same access to stock orchestrations
as their American counterparts…whether they played them with the same alacrity is
another matter!
Most of the three-dozen or so hit tunes listed previously would have remained
in the danceband repertoire for a number of years before being either ditched or
updated. Of course, by 1923 more tunes had become popular, for example: - Ain’t We
Got Fun, April Showers, Coal Black Mammy, Crazy Blues, Dear Old Southland, I’m
Just Wild About Harry, Jazz The Blues, Ma! He’s Making Eyes At Me, Say It With
Music, Second Hand Rose, The Sheik Of Araby, Wabash Blues, Wang-Wang Blues,
When Buddha Smiles…and…Chicago, Do It Again, I Wish I Could Shimmy Like My
Sister Kate, John Henry’s Blues, Limehouse Blues, Lovesick Blues, On The Alamo,
Three O’clock In The Morning, Toot Toot Tootsie Goodbye, Way Down Yonder In New
Orleans.
Only Coal Black Mammy originated in Britain. I Wish I Could Shimmy Like My
Sister Kate dated from 1919 but only became a hit in Britain when the short-lived
‘shimmy’ dance-step craze crossed the Atlantic in 1921. Apart perhaps from these two
items, many of the titles will be familiar…some as constantly reinterpreted jazz/big
band tunes…others as typical ‘twenties popular songs, like the first listed, Ain’t We
Got Fun.
Now all of the above titles represent songs…words and music. They were hits
by virtue of their sheet music sales and (to a lesser extent) record sales. But at this time
dance music did not include vocal content…indeed, the very notion would have
seemed bizarre. This would change, of course, but for the moment we can ignore Gus
Kahn’s intriguing lyric for Ain’t We Got Fun and take the music – the tune – as an
example of how ‘twenties pop tunes (songs) were structured. This is because they
conformed to a rigid Tin Pan Alley formula – a thirty-two bar chorus comprising four
eight-bar sections in the sequence AABA (‘A’ and ‘B’ being different musical
passages). Verse tunes were almost always ignored by orchestrators.
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Although the simplistic musical patterns posed problems for lyricists, they were
ideal for danceband use given the essentially simplistic nature of popular dances like
the foxtrot and one step (called the ‘rag’ in the UK). Also, because arrangers did not
have to worry about lyrical continuity it was possible to introduce embellishments
between melody sections that relieved the monotony of constant repetition. Of course
less popular dances like the waltz, two-step and tango might occasionally be included
in a dance programme, particularly at private functions. For these, current pop tunes
were rarely available so bandleaders generally used stock arrangements of old tunes.
The reality is that the kind of ‘modern’ informal dancing in vogue at the time had
virtually eclipsed the older more formal styles. Later, modern styles would have
formality imposed on them, but for now we can leave the dancers at the Hammersmith
Palais or wherever, to enjoy the shimmy or whatever.
Early in 1923 Lou Sterling of Columbia Records invited Ambrose to make
some test recordings after hearing the band play at a private function. Three recording
sessions took place in April and twelve titles were eventually released on six 10 inch78rpm discs. Considering that Ambrose was entirely unknown in Britain apart from
London High Society, this was something of a gamble for Columbia, and it didn’t
really come to much, either for the company or Ambrose.
Of course these were early days for British jazz-oriented dance bands so far as
the record industry was concerned. American bandleaders whose records were issued
in the United Kingdom inevitably dominated the market. Nor can we take Ambrose’s
first recording effort as typical of his band’s true potential. British recording engineers
were someway behind their American counterparts when it came to presenting jazz and
dance music in the best possible way on record. And even American bands were not
recorded ‘authentically’ because of the recording process then being used. To
understand why this was so we need to consider what was involved in producing
records at the time.
By 1920 the acoustic recording method had just about reached its limit so far as
quality of output was concerned. Everything depended on the ingenuity of recording
engineers in ensuring that the various sounds being made in the studio were actually
recorded. The range of sounds that could be reproduced and their intensities were
strictly limited. Some musical instruments couldn’t be reproduced at all. For example,
the drum was banned from the recording studio and drummers had to perform on the
woodblock, with an occasional cymbal hit permitted. The only feasible way of
incorporating a bass line was via the tuba, and rhythm instruments like the piano and
banjo had to be played much louder than usual in order to be heard. Melody
instruments like the cornet (or trumpet) and alto saxophone recorded quite well, so did
the clarinet in its middle range – but only when played close to the recording horn. It
was the need for proximity to the horn that made any large ensemble difficult to record
effectively. Despite these limitations bands like Paul Whiteman’s were enjoying
phenomenal popularity in the early 1920s so Ambrose’s lack of success can only be
partially excused. The important point, though, is that he would have been unable to
use his normal arrangements – which might have been more adventurous – or make
full use of the band’s dynamic range.
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The twelve titles recorded by Ambrose were: When Will I Know? China Boy, My Buddy, Have You Forgotten Me?,
The Pale Venetian Moon, When All Your Castles Come Tumbling Down,
Sweet Lonesome Baby, Rose Of The Rio Grande, Dearest, Without You,
By The Shalimar, Dumbell/Jennie.
All six records remained in Columbia’s catalogue for a couple of years but only
clocked-up minimal sales. The orchestra that Ambrose used for the Columbia
recordings comprised his Embassy Club band with special additions: AMBROSE & HIS EMBASSY CLUB ORCHESTRA
Bert Ambrose (violin/+leader)
Abe Aaronson (alto sax/clarinet)
Rupert Dixon (tenor sax/clarinet)
Max Raderman (piano/+arranger)
Harry Edelson (banjo)
Eddie Grossbart (drums)
Julius Nussbaum (tuba)*
Vernon Ferris (trumpet)*
Joe Smith (trombone)*
*Added for recording purposes.
It would be nice to know how the Ambrose band sounded on those 1923 hits
that it didn’t record, for example: - Bugle Call Rag, Down Hearted Blues, Gulf Coast
Blues, Pasadena, Snake Rag, Sobbin’ Blues, Swingin’ Down The Lane, Tin Roof Blues,
Weary Blues, and Wolverine Blues. All of these titles were popular with dance
orchestras and jazz bands at the time, which raises the question – what, if any, were the
differences between dance music and jazz around this time?
Any discussion involving ‘jazz’ can only be meaningful if the term itself has a
generally accepted definition. This would be a tall order at the best of times, and for
the time we are considering exceedingly difficult to arrive at. However, there seems
little doubt that the most authentic jazz of the time was being played in AfricanAmerican jazz clubs. Essentially these were jazz ‘workshops’ where musicians could
hold ‘jam sessions’ and ‘cutting contests’ and generally interact with each other, and
an appreciative audience, without commercial considerations predominating. After
1910 African-Americans migrated north in ever increasing numbers and jazz clubs
started-up in cities like New York, Chicago and San Francisco. Such clubs were one
kind of refuge from the ‘Jim Crow’ restrictions that greeted blacks on arrival in these
cities. Despite the best efforts of the segregationists it proved impossible to prevent
white musicians from attending these clubs – the lure of the music and the desire to
learn how to play it were too strong. The idiocies of segregation tainted and distorted
almost every aspect of the music industry, but even if an integrated development of
jazz had been possible in the commercial world the question of what was or was not
authentic jazz at the time would still arise. Leaving aside the task of defining jazz
according to its tangible characteristics – many of which could be faked – the best that
can be said about the relationship between authentic jazz and jazz-oriented dance
music in the early 1920s is that there certainly was one!
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In 1923 Paul Whiteman brought his band to London for a number of
engagements. By this time he was an international star and in the history of 20th
Century popular music ranks with the likes of Benny Goodman, Glenn Miller, Elvis
Presley and the Beatles – all, rightly or wrongly, regarded as the first of their kind by
the world at large. He still retained the services of Ferde Grofe as chief arranger, his
own arranging skills now being confined to an occasional ‘jazzing the classics’ effort like The Poet And Peasant Overture (1922). Since his initial record hits in 1920,
Whiteman had clocked up many more including Wang-Wang Blues (1921), Limehouse
Blues (1922) and Three O’clock In The Morning (1923) – all of which sold over onemillion copies within a year of being released. Whiteman’s musical style can best be
classified under the heading ‘jazz-influenced pop music’. His fans regarded it as ‘jazz’
pure-and-simple simply because Paul Whiteman said it was. Indeed, in 1922 he
declared himself King of Jazz! He later claimed: ‘I made a lady out of jazz’ – but was
too polite to reveal the kind of woman he thought Jazz was before being rescued. In
fact Whiteman was very good at what he did, and one of the things he did was to
propel dance orchestras into the mainstream of popular music. Only one essential
ingredient needed to be added in order to ensure them a lead position – the vocal.
Songs, not just tunes, captivated the consumers of Tin Pan Alley wares, and Paul
Whiteman was certainly a major innovator when it came to introducing the ‘vocal
chorus’ to danceband recordings and broadcasts.
Up to now the interchangeable terms ‘danceband’ and ‘dance orchestra’ have
been used to refer to a musical entity the principal function of which was to provide
music for dancing. Of course many jazz groups also played for dancing, another point
that helps blur the distinction between dance and jazz bands. However, it was mainly
dancebands that moved into the mainstream pop market. Now readers will have
noticed that the lists of pop songs given previously contain many titles with the word
‘blues’ in them.
Most of these songs emanated from Tin Pan Alley and at best can only be
described as blues-influenced songs (here we go again). Some however were genuine
blues numbers and for a while after 1920 a few African-American blues singers made
records that became big hits. Most blues singers eked out a living by working in jazz
clubs, but mainstream cabaret and vaudeville gave some scope for African-American
blues singers to become known to white audiences. Around 1919 when the Ragtime
Craze was starting to lose its impetus, thrill-hungry consumers of pop music latched-on
to the blues as the springboard for a new craze. As ever, Tin Pan Alley was ready to
oblige although, as ever, the output was largely faked. Although authentic blues did not
conform to the rigid Tin Pan Alley formula – it could be adapted. Because genuine
blues singers were available at the time their talents were tapped by the record industry
in order to make its blues output appear genuine. This gave a few black artists, mostly
women, the chance to record. In many cases they were allowed to use backing groups
of their own choice, and this enabled black jazz musicians to gain first-hand experience
of recording. The first vocal blues hit came in 1920, when Mamie Smith recorded
Crazy Blues. Although written to the usual pop song formula, Mamie Smith and her
five-piece backing group, the Jazz Hounds, gave it the full blues treatment and it
caused a sensation when released. Some blues items that had been popular for years as
instrumentals, like St Louis Blues and Memphis Blues were now revived as songs with their authentic blues structure intact, but these were exceptions.
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The Blues Craze only lasted for a few years and of course it didn’t take the
usual suspects long to raise objections to black artists recording for white consumers.
Because there was a market for genuine blues records as well as authentic jazz (mainly
among the more prosperous African-Americans who now lived and worked in the
northern cities) record companies began to issue so-called Race Records specifically
for that market. The transfer of blues singers to such labels was fine for posterity, but
deprived mainstream labels of some of the best artists around. Of course Tin Pan Alley
songwriters tried to ensure that their pop-songs-masquerading-as-blues were suitable
for more refined vocal cords but even so the lyrics often made such refinement idiotic.
Mamie Smith and her blues contemporaries also tackled routine pop songs with
a panache that meshed with the jazz bands they performed with – and would have
suited jazz-oriented dancebands, groping to find ways of presenting vocal content, had
their leaders been able to appreciate the fact. The crazy segregationist traditions of the
time ensured that they couldn’t even if they had wanted to.
From 1923 Paul Whiteman broadcast regularly and it was probably in
connection with such work as well as concert appearances that he began to feature
vocalists. At first only a male vocalist was used to provide the occasional ‘vocal
refrain’ – later he added a vocal quartet, and later still, a female vocalist.
By 1923 New York was certainly the popular music capital of the world but not
the jazz capital – such a distinction would have to be reserved for Chicago. Of course
there was some good jazz and blues being performed at clubs like Leroy’s in Harlem,
but New Orleans-style jazz was largely overshadowed by the synthetic output of Paul
Whiteman and his ilk, and the dubious efforts of the ODJB. One exception was a white
group that started out in 1920 under the title of the Original Memphis Five and
included Phil Napoleon on trumpet and Miff Mole on trombone. Later, trumpeter Red
Nichols and saxophonist Frankie Trumbauer joined the band when it recorded as the
Cotton Pickers. This was too good to last and Paul Whiteman eventually ‘poached’
Nichols and Mole although they didn’t stay with him for long. White jazz didn’t really
get off the ground in New York until later in the ‘twenties when a number of key
musicians migrated there from Chicago.
Whether Ambrose was one of the many Londoners eagerly awaiting Paul
Whiteman’s first appearance in Britain in 1923 is not known. While most of the
population would have been aware of Whiteman’s ‘superstar’ status, only a very few
knew of Ambrose’s existence. Nevertheless, Ambrose was known to those who
wielded power at the High Society end of market – and, moreover, on both sides of the
Atlantic. Apart from the fact that his own band-leading career had embraced clubs in
New York and London, there was a significant element of London High Society that
was virtually part of the corresponding coterie in New York – and vice versa.
Moreover, both elements intermingled at certain times in Paris and on the Riviera. This
was the International Smart Set. And for ‘smart’ read rich! Scott Fitzgerald’s cynical
stories reveal the frenetic world of glamour, wealth and social status around which the
Jazz Age revolved. And it was for this world, and not any other, that Ambrose
provided appropriate theme music. In the outside world something else was needed.
Paul Whiteman had that ‘something else’, but so too did other American bandleaders,
and it was one of the others that provided the inspiration for Ambrose to – eventually –
branch-out from the closeted world of society band leading. His name was Isham
Jones, and Ambrose first heard his band play in New York in the late summer of 1923.
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Isham Jones was a Chicago-based bandleader who occasionally worked in New
York at a club of which he was part owner. His fame by this time was about level
pegging with that of Paul Whiteman and his first big-recorded hit – Wabash Blues –
had also been released in 1920. Since then he had earned over half-a-million dollars in
royalties from releases on the Brunswick label. But Isham Jones wasn’t only famous as
a bandleader – he was also a leading Tin Pan Alley tunesmith, having written the
music for hit songs that included On The Alamo, Swinging Down The Lane and It Had
To Be You. Apart from playing at Chicago’s College Inn and Marigold Gardens, he
made hugely successful nationwide tours of theatres, nightclubs and dance halls that
earned him $6,000 a week. Unlike Paul Whiteman he never claimed to play jazz, but
rather ‘American dance music’. Nevertheless it was dance music firmly rooted in jazz
and – above all – the blues. Jones was not only a bandleader and composer of
distinction but also an arranger of outstanding ability. Moreover he had an
understanding and feeling for jazz and the blues that eluded most commercial
bandleaders of the early 1920s.
Isham Jones grew-up in Michigan and was still a child when his father taught
him to play the fiddle by ear. Later he took piano lessons and became a fluent reader of
music. On leaving school he followed his father into the mining industry, but around
1915 went to Chicago and spent a year studying theory, composition and orchestration
at a music school. He also taught himself to play the C-melody saxophone.
Subsequently he wrote stock arrangements for a music publisher and played saxophone
in a trio. After a few months of army service in 1917 he played piano with, and wrote
arrangements for, a danceband at the Sherman House Hotel. He later took over as
leader of this band and by 1919 was enjoying huge success. Like Art Hickman and
Paul Whiteman he included saxophones in his line-up – two at first, then three from
1922. Also in 1922, he added a second cornet – and later two fiddles. The other
instruments were trombone, piano, banjo, drums, and tuba. Isham Jones fronted the
band on tenor sax and occasionally played piano. He also wrote many of the band’s
arrangements, which were some of the most innovative danceband arrangements of the
time. What captivated Ambrose though was the distinctive ‘sound’ that Jones had
created for his band – it was subtle, sophisticated and ahead of its time. Ambrose now
wanted something along the same lines. A noble goal, but one that would require a
career change that would not be easy to achieve. Nevertheless, the seeds of ambition
had been sown.
Before returning to London in the autumn of 1923 Ambrose sought-out
unpublished material that he could take back to London. One day he sat in on a
rehearsal for the Ziegfeld Follies and was intrigued by one of the tunes that
accompanied a dance routine. This was Charleston and Ambrose was on friendly terms
with its composer, the celebrated James P. Johnson. Johnson, apart from his composing
skills, was a leading exponent of the Harlem ‘stride’ school of piano playing. This was
essentially the first distinct style of piano playing that owed more to jazz than ragtime;
it was not easy to perform and Johnson was somewhat unique in that he was also a
brilliant classical pianist. (Most classically trained pianists found it reasonably easy to
master ragtime but difficult to learn stride piano.) Johnson let Ambrose have an
advance copy of Charleston (which was about to be published as a pop song) and this
was one of the items that Ambrose brought back to London.
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Had Ambrose been able to exploit this commercially he might well have scored
a big hit because this was the very same tune that triggered the Charleston Craze in
America, and in Europe a year or so later. However, the best that Ambrose could come
up with was a foxtrot version that no doubt satisfied the patrons of the Embassy Club.
But even the foxtrot was about to be emasculated - and by the grandiloquently named
Imperial Society of Teachers of Dancing (ISTD).
The ISTD’s main concern was with the standardisation of classical ballet
dancing and the regulation of the many dancing academies that taught it. In Britain,
ballroom dancing had gained widespread popularity since the end of the war and public
dance halls had been established all over the country. Also people started to set up
classes in ballroom dancing so that the correct dance steps and motions could be
learned. But what were the correct steps?
The answers came in 1924 when the ISTD formed a ballroom branch and
initiated a series of conferences to lay-down appropriate rules and regulations. All this
made much sense from the point of view of the professional ballroom dancer. Irene and
Vernon Castle, of course, had based their work on the assumption that it was
essentially for people out to have a good time. Nevertheless, there was a lot to be said
for the so-called English Style and it came to be accepted in ballroom dancing
throughout the world and has remained supreme to this day. Compared to the Castles’
dance steps and movements, the ISTD’s were much more formalised. Apart from
prescribing speeds and steps for the waltz and polka (which remained reasonably
popular) the ISTD got to work on the foxtrot. Although the Castles had replaced the
‘trot’ with a ‘walk’ their foxtrot remained a lively and rather jerky dance. The ISTD
refined it and introduced the ‘slow foxtrot’, and also a faster version - the ‘quickstep’.
Another dance that had to be simplified was the Tango - ingeniously made compatible
with foxtrot steps for those who couldn’t manage the real thing. Despite this it still
retained its ‘greasy dago’ image and was frowned on by many in ‘polite society’. Over
time the ISTD standardised all the mainstream ballroom dances and encouraged local,
national and international competitions and championships. Of course one side effect
of all this was the division of humanity into those who could and those who could not
dance ‘correctly’!
If the diminutive dance floor at the Embassy Club prevented patrons from
making the turns and glides necessary to satisfy the rigours of the ISTD then it must
come as no surprise that the size of the bandstand imposed limits on Ambrose’s lineup. There was some room for expansion beyond his current seven-piece band – but not
much. Of course Ambrose employed additional musicians for outside engagements but
these were hired on an ad hoc basis and the bands involved would still have been
small. So far as his main band was concerned it was by now somewhat behind the
times. Most of the big-time leaders in both America and Britain included a brass
section and a second alto (three saxophones in all with at least one doubling on
clarinet). Of course Ambrose wasn’t a big-time leader – but he was beginning to wish
he were. Such ambitions could only have been further fuelled when the Isham Jones
band visited Britain in 1924. That same year Jones had written the music (and Gus
Kahn the lyrics) for two of the biggest hit songs of the year on both sides of the
Atlantic – It Had To Be You and I’ll See You In My Dreams. But Ambrose wasn’t the
only British bandleader who took the Isham Jones band as an example to be emulated.
Moreover, one other that did also had a head start in the popularity stakes and would
prove exceptionally difficult to catch-up with – namely Jack Hylton.
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If there ever was an archetypal British bandleader then Jack Hylton was it.
Indeed Hylton belongs with the likes of Whiteman, Ellington, Goodman, Miller and
Basie - the most commercially successful bandleaders of the era that concerns us. Of
course ‘commercially successful’ doesn’t mean ‘artistically supreme’ but even in this
respect Hylton had his moments. Hylton, the son of a mill worker turned pup keeper
grew up in Lancashire, and as a child learned to play piano and organ. After leaving
school he played piano with various touring shows until the war, during which he
became musical director of an army entertainments unit. After the war he became
pianist-arranger with a danceband at the Queen’s Hall Roof in London. In 1921 he took
over this band, which became Jack Hylton & His Orchestra. For the next few years
Hylton’s career paralleled Ambrose’s, even to the extent of their recording experiences
– Hylton’s with His Masters Voice (HMV) early in 1923. There were however some
crucial differences – Hylton worked at the less esoteric end of the market, and his
recording career took off.
By 1924 the name of Jack Hylton was known beyond the venues at which he
played, Ambrose’s wasn’t. One thing that they did have in common was the use of
current pop tunes to keep their customers happy. Apart from those mentioned
previously, the following were the big hits of 1924: - Amapola, California Here I
Come, Fascinating Rhythm, I Want To Be Happy, It Had To Be You, Tea For Two,
What’ll I Do, and Rose Marie. Some readers may recognise these titles, and possibly
two others that became jazz standards: - Jimtown Blues and Copenhagen. One 1924 hit
- Ritual Fire Dance – was a rare example of what we would now call ‘orchestral light
music’ making it into the sheet music charts. Of course piano novelties like Canadian
Capers, Kitten On The Keys, and Nola remained popular but such tunes were usually
reserved for the relief pianists who were sometimes hired to keep patrons happy during
band breaks.
The variegated nature of Paul Whiteman’s repertoire was apparent when he
organised a concert early in 1924 to ‘celebrate American music’. For this event he
hired New York’s Aeolian Hall and augmented his basic band with large string and
woodwind sections, effectively creating a concert orchestra. The programme ranged
from Livery Stable Blues to a ‘straight’ version of one of Elgar’s Pomp And
Circumstance marches, but the high point of the concert was the specially
commissioned Rhapsody In Blue. The composer of this piece – George Gershwin –
also played the piano solo, but the arrangement was by Ferde Grofe. An avuncular Paul
Whiteman guided the audience through the programme with a commentary on each
item that once more emphasised his role in taming jazz. Indeed he now preferred the
term ‘symphonic syncopation’ as a description of what he was about. Despite this,
Whiteman’s ‘King of Jazz’ title remained intact and what he presented was regarded as
jazz by the public-at-large, even though most of it really wasn’t. One aspect of
Whiteman’s output that caused controversy at the time was his penchant for jazzing the
classics. Taking a classical theme and using it as the basis for a popular song was not
new. Of course anyone doing this had to ensure that the ‘lifted’ tune was not subject to
copyright. This had been so since the early years of the 20th Century when the notion
of copyright became properly legalised in America, Britain and most of Europe. In the
United States an organisation called the American Society of Composers, Authors and
Publishers (ASCAP) had been established in 1914 to ensure that fees were paid to its
members whenever their work was performed or recorded (broadcasting was added
later).
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The law that supported ASCAP’s authority was not retrospective, so music
published before it came into force was not covered. Clearly, then, there was much
music in the ‘public domain’ that could be used willy-nilly.
A jazzed-up version of a traditional tune like Marching Through Georgia was
one thing, but Rimsky-Korsakov’s Scheherazade? It wasn’t only jazz aficionados who
cast doubts over Paul Whiteman’s bona fides. And for Paul Whiteman read danceband
leaders in general. The cultural guardians who railed against jazzing the classics were
probably not too happy about the process in reverse – classical composers
incorporating jazz in their own works. Of course these were invariably avant-garde
composers like Stravinsky, Ravel and Charles Ives. Indeed their flouting of classical
musical conventions was even more controversial than their occasional forays into the
world of jazz. Nevertheless, the attempt to fuse classical music and jazz always had
noble connotations and noble attempters, one of whom was George Gershwin. But
Gershwin was really interested in creating music that was unmistakably American, and
undoubtedly had a genuine appreciation of the African-American contribution.
George Gershwin was also an accomplished stride piano player, a technique he
had acquired after long hours spent jamming in Harlem jazz clubs. Like Ambrose, he
was an admirer of James P. Johnson, and they also had a mutual friend in Charles
‘Luckey’ Roberts another African-American composer-pianist of outstanding ability.
Apart from a string of Tin Pan Alley hits and successful musical comedies Luckey
Roberts fronted one of the best society dance orchestras in Harlem. Unlike Gershwin,
Ambrose only had a limited appreciation of authentic jazz although he understood the
musical technicalities involved. The Prince of Wales liked jazz, but didn’t understand
its technicalities. Rather than get too involved in the Prince’s jazz interests Ambrose
arranged for Luckey Roberts to send-over, on a regular basis, the best output from the
Race Records catalogues. Over time the Prince built-up a fine collection of jazz and
blues records. Ambrose may have lacked true empathy towards jazz but he couldn’t
afford to ignore it – dance music, the product of his labours, was far too closely
intertwined. So far as the public-at-large were concerned dance music was jazz,
although Ambrose, of course, was well aware of the differences. Nevertheless, the
developments that occurred in both dance music and jazz in the second half of the
1920s were similar, so we have to explore these developments from both angles and
primarily with our attention fixed on the American experience.
By the early 1920s Chicago had replaced New Orleans as the jazz capital of
America. And at the top of the list of jazz greats newly established in the Windy City
none was greater than Joe ‘King’ Oliver’s Creole Jazz Band. They played at the
Lincoln Gardens in 1922 and a year later made a series of recordings that epitomised
the post-Bolden New Orleans style of jazz. Isham Jones would sometimes shut-upshop early, taking his entire band along to catch the late show at the Lincoln Gardens.
According to Jones, commenting at the time: ‘If you want to know what jazz music is
all about and what its becoming…go down and listen to Joe Oliver’s band’. Apart from
Oliver himself on first cornet, the band included Johnny Dodds on clarinet, Baby
Dodds on drums and Louis Armstrong on second cornet. In fact the Creole Jazz Band
represented the penultimate blossoming of the New Orleans style. Louis Armstrong
left Oliver’s band in 1924 and joined Fletcher Henderson’s band in New York.
Henderson was yet another classically trained pianist but unusually had a university
degree in science and mathematics.
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Segregation ensured that Fletcher could not make use of his college education
in any meaningful way so he ‘resorted’ to piano playing. After a short spell as a session
pianist and stock arranger he formed a small band for an engagement at the Club
Alabam and later an eleven-piece orchestra for the famous Roseland Ballroom. This
band had three trumpets, one trombone, three saxophones (one doubling on clarinet),
piano, drums, banjo and tuba. Louis played third trumpet, but was essentially the
featured soloist. Consequently he was given full scope to use his sensational
improvisational skills. And in a way that had not been heard before, due to the
innovative arranging method adopted by Henderson and his associate arranger Don
Redman.
Henderson and Redman were two of the founding fathers of what would come
to be called ‘big band music’. Essential ingredients of this music included authentic
improvised solos, played over phrases provided by the band that sound improvised but
are actually notated. Redman also used the block-chord method – alternating a phrase
between brass and reeds engendering a ‘call and response’ effect. This meant that brass
and reeds effectively became distinct ‘sections’ of the band. Another innovation was
the use of the ‘riff’ – a melodic phrase constantly repeated, either behind an improvised
solo or as a main theme. In some respects these techniques reflected the influence of
classical music on scoring for big bands, and so too did the more complex harmonies
involved vis-à-vis New Orleans-style jazz. Of course these innovations didn’t all
appear overnight nor did jazz bands and dance orchestras immediately accept them.
Parallel developments occurred that make it difficult to say who did what first. One
thing’s for sure – both black and white bands and musicians were involved in these
developments.
One white arranger who equalled Don Redman in innovative skill was Bill
Challis. He was a saxophonist who played with brass bands in Pennsylvania before
1920 and taught himself music theory and orchestration. An interest in jazz led to
arranging for local dancebands and eventually he moved to Chicago. There he worked
with a pianist called Jean Goldkette. In 1924 Goldkette decided to form a band and
hired Challis to give advice on the line-up and prepare arrangements. At last Challis
was able to put his theories into practice and when the new band secured an
engagement at the Graystone Ballroom in Detroit it was an instant success. Goldkette
had distinct brass, sax, and rhythm sections – with strings as an optional extra. A
notable feature was that the three sax players had to double on clarinet and, when
required, play as a clarinet choir. Because Goldkette recorded and sometimes
performed in New York where Henderson also played, both Redman and Challis
influenced one another, and both later acknowledged this. Henderson’s band continued
to work in New York although Louis Armstrong left it in 1925. Goldkette remained
based in Detroit, eventually taking-over the Graystone Ballroom and starting a
corporation that came to control twenty bands.
During his stay in New York, Louis Armstrong recorded five titles with Bessie
Smith and after leaving Henderson’s band in the autumn of 1925 he returned to
Chicago and formed his own band, the Hot Five, which he led on cornet (occasionally
trumpet). With Johnny Dodds on clarinet, Kid Ory on trombone, Johnny St Cyr on
banjo and Lil Armstrong (Louis’ formidable wife) on piano, the Hot Five – and a
variant, the Hot Seven, with drums (Baby Dodds) and tuba added – must rank as the
peak of New Orleans style jazz.
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But it was Louis Armstrong as soloist that had the greatest impact on the
development of jazz and big band music, and indirectly made the distinction between
authentic jazz and jazz-influenced music more clearly definable. The innovations of
Louis Armstrong at this time were numerous. Perhaps the most important was his
move away from ‘paraphrasing’ – jazzing the basic melody – and towards the
spontaneous creation of new melodies over the tune’s changing harmonies. From this
time on the collective improvisation of the New Orleans jazz style was being
transcended by something new.
Having neglected Ambrose’s career for a year or so we must return to the
Embassy Club to find out what he was getting up to. Not much as it so happens or at
least nothing out of the ordinary. There is no record of what he did during the summers
of 1924 and 1925 during the Embassy Club’s long breaks. Of course not all the Smart
Set departed for foreign parts or even deserted London, so there would have been some
work available for the society bands. Most of Ambrose’s 1923 contingent was still
with the band; although sax player Rupert Dixon left some time in 1924 (the name of
his replacement isn’t known).
We can be reasonably certain about the tunes that Ambrose would have added
to his repertoire in 1925. Not because we have actual details, but because all
bandleaders were obliged to play the latest hit tunes in order to keep their customers
happy. Here are the most recognisable: - Alabamy Bound, Always, Dinah, Don’t Bring
Lulu, If You Knew Susie, I’m Sitting On Top Of The World, Show Me The Way To Go
Home, Sleepy Time Gal, Sweet Georgia Brown, Who, Yes Sir That’s My Baby. Because
Ambrose also had to satisfy the jazz inclinations of some of his patrons the following
titles might well have been included: - Boneyard Shuffle, Daven Port Blues, Milenberg
Joys, Headin’ For Louisville, Riverboat Shuffle. However, the really big hit in Britain
in 1925 was none of these but rather a leftover from 1923 – Charleston. Britain – and
much of Europe – was still in the grip of the Charleston Craze, which crossed the
Atlantic around 1924.
Just when the ISTD had succeeded in taming the foxtrot and tango, another
manifestation arrived on the scene to intrigue the young and trouble the feint hearted.
The Charleston, of course, is the one dance that now symbolises the Roaring Twenties
and is too well known to require description here. At the time it was accepted without
too much trouble in the United States but in Britain it caused outrage. According to the
Daily Mail it was ‘…reminiscent of Negro orgies’, and eminent doctors wrote to The
Times warning of the dangers it posed to public health. (In fact injuries were sustained
due to over-exuberant kicking.) Despite all the raised eyebrows the craze persisted.
Charleston contests were held in dance halls, it was featured in variety theatres and
young people blocked traffic by dancing it in the street. The scandal was complete
when the Prince of Wales skilfully danced it in public while on holiday in Biarritz…
the King of Jazz might well have been amused but the King of Britain certainly wasn’t!
In 1925 Edward was still practicing to be a jazz musician – joined now on
piano by his younger brother George (the one who became Duke of Kent, not the one
who became King George). To have Edward bashing the drums and George thumping
the piano during regular Embassy Club hours was too much for Ambrose so he
arranged some out-of-hours practice sessions. Other royals, including a foreign
contingent, got wind of these and demanded a slice of the action. Eventually these
Royal ‘jam sessions’ became regular (but strictly private) occurrences.
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No doubt the camaraderie generated by such goings-on enhanced the growing
relationship between Ambrose and his royal clients. To say that this was the same thing
as friendship would be going too far, but within the social limits then in force it came
close to it. Ambrose though would never admit to it being so, and was always reluctant
to talk about such things. Clearly, its not only musical styles that have changed over
the years!
One important development that affected bands on both sides of the Atlantic
was the introduction of electrical recording methods in 1925. Some of the problems
associated with the acoustic system were referred to previously, but only some. Despite
these limitations record sales in the United States in the 1920s were huge (worth over
$100,000,000 in 1921). Paul Whiteman’s 1921 million-seller represented 2% of the
Victor Record Company’s total sales for that year. In fact 1921 was a peak year - sales
declined to a low-point in 1925, but revived when electrically recorded titles
subsequently became available. The situation was similar in Britain, although total
sales were relatively smaller of course. It also took a bit longer for British record
companies to make use of the new recording technique. Indeed, in both countries
acoustic recording lingered for some years, particularly for low-cost labels.
The American company Western Electric had perfected – and patented – the
new recording method after long years of experimental work. Essentially it enabled
sounds in the recording studio to be picked-up by microphones that converted
mechanical vibrations into amplified electrical pulses. After being processed by
recording engineers these pulses were reconverted into vibrations at the tool that cut a
spiral groove in the wax master disc. After several intermediate processes metal stamps
were produced which were used to turn-out records. It was the ability to capture sounds
at a multiplicity of points by using more than one microphone, and the control that the
engineer had over the amplification and balancing of these ‘sounds’ that was
revolutionary. Also, the performance of the system exceeded the acoustic method by
two-and-a-half octaves and this enabled the wider ranges of bass and treble to be
captured.
The electrical method, then, meant that restrictions on both band size and
instruments used could be lifted. Importantly for jazz bands the full drum kit could
now be included, and the banjo and tuba replaced by the more flexible guitar and string
bass. Most leaders who normally used drums soon took advantage of the first point, but
more caution was exercised over the second for reasons that will be explained later.
Electrical recording though was not a complete panacea for reproducing sound, and it
would take some time before recording artists and engineers found the best ways of
doing things, particularly where smaller recording companies were concerned.
Nevertheless once it became widely known that the new process was being
used record sales did accelerate on both sides of the Atlantic. So too did the sales of
electrical phonographs (called gramophones in the UK), the recently introduced
counterparts of electrical recording. Of course electrically recorded sides could still be
played on acoustic record players, and such machines remained available almost until
the end of the 78rpm record in the late 1950s. However the late 1920s did see the end
of cylinder (as opposed to disc) records, much to the chagrin of a small minority of
record buyers. The 10” disc (about 3 minutes playing time) and 12” disc (about 4
minutes) were by now the standard products.
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Dancebands had become major contributors to overall record sales in the
United States by the mid-1920s. In the United Kingdom the market for records
remained stubbornly upper and middle class and this limited the scope for recording
the hotter forms of dance music - American companies could afford to be more
adventurous. Moreover the British record market was open to duty-free imports so
records by well-known American bands were readily available at little extra cost. It
was probably to promote sales of their recorded output that brought some of the betterknown American bands to Britain. Paul Whiteman, Ted Lewis, Paul Specht, Vincent
Lopez and Ben Bernie brought their bands over for brief engagements in 1926.
Few British bands could approach, let alone rival, the quality of output of these
American bands. One that did was Jack Hylton’s and in 1926 it was the first danceband
to be included in a Royal Variety Performance. Moreover Hylton relied almost
exclusively on British musicians. These were among the very few available that could
match American musicians when it came to jazz oriented- dance music. Of course Jack
Hylton had little alternative but to copy as closely as he could the orchestrations used
by American bands in order to achieve the effects he desired, and his rehearsal
procedures at the time were notoriously onerous. Nevertheless he had the only allBritish band that stood any chance of challenging American bands in their own back
yard. Other popular British bands of the mid-1920s included Debroy Somers, Percival
Mackey, Jack Payne and Reginald Batten. All led competent hotel bands that had
become known to a wider audience through broadcasts – which in turn led to recording
contracts and respectable record sales. Many other leaders destined to become
household names spent the 1920s as provincial bandleaders each awaiting the chance
of a top London engagement, and the fame and fortune that usually followed.
Early in 1926 Ambrose added American trumpet player Jules Berkin to his
line-up, the first time a regular front-line brass player had been included in the
Embassy band. Around the same time the unknown tenor player who had earlier
replaced Rupert Dixon left and was in turn replaced by Joe Crossman, a young British
reed player of outstanding ability. Later the same year Ambrose brought over a
trombonist from America and then hired a second trumpet player. Ambrose’s band
now had a fully-fledged brass section.
Here’s the line-up in September 1926: AMBROSE & HIS EMBASSY CLUB ORCHESTRA
Director:
Brass:
Reeds:
Rhythm:
Bert Ambrose (+violin)
Jules Berkin (trumpet)
Frank Biffo (trumpet)
Ephraim Hannaford (trombone)
Barney Sorkin (alto/clarinet)
Joe Crossman (tenor/clarinet/alto/baritone)
Max Raderman (piano/+arranger)
Harry Edelson (banjo)
Eddie Grossbart (drums)
Julius Nussbaum (tuba)
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Given the size of the Embassy’s bandstand it must have been a tight squeeze
accommodating ten players. However, Ambrose now had a line-up that matched many
American medium-sized bands. One consequence of this was the need for more
sophisticated arrangements, rather than the ‘head’ arrangements previously used.
Another was that the ‘real’ lead instrumentalist was now the first trumpet player rather
than Ambrose on violin.
Six of Ambrose’s nine sidemen were Americans, but it was Joe Crossman who
would have the most significance in the long run. He was a Londoner and only twenty
when he joined the Embassy band. After completing his musical studies in the early
1920’s he worked in various small-time bands then spent a couple of years touring
abroad. Ambrose spotted Joe Crossman playing at Rectors, a West End jazz club. He
was an all-round reed player, proficient on alto, baritone and clarinet as well as tenor.
Apart from being an innovative improviser he had a good grasp of music theory and
possessed orchestrating and composing skills. In time he would become one of the best
jazz alto players in Europe, admired by Jimmy Dorsey, Benny Goodman and others.
While it would be an exaggeration to say that Joe Crossman was as influential in
Britain in relation to tenor sax playing as Coleman Hawkins in America, he was
certainly one of the first to raise its status from that of a mere novelty instrument with
an undefined role. At the Embassy he also had ample opportunity to double on clarinet
and baritone sax, and contributed several arrangements.
Ambrose was certainly one of Joe Crossman’s greatest admirers but the
complement was not returned – and that’s putting it mildly! At first though Joe was
content to indulge the boss and became good at providing ‘hot’ obbligatos in support
of Ambrose’s ‘straight’ fiddle solos. Prior to this Ambrose had performed with only
minimal rhythm support. Crossman’s technique, particularly when later applied to
vocal choruses, became a recognisable feature of the famous Ambrose Sound.
Something else that Joe Crossman did was to notate some of his improvised solo
passages and these give us some idea of his jazz prowess in the Ambrose band even
though it wasn’t recorded.
The other non-American addition to Ambrose’s expanded Embassy Club band
was second trumpet player Frank Biffo, who came from Bert Ralton’s Savoy Havana
Band and about whom little is known. Max Raderman continued to oversee arranging
duties assisted, on a part-time basis, by Ronnie Munro. British-born Munro – who
would continue to supply arrangements for Ambrose’s band for the next ten years –
was a classically trained pianist who had studied theory and orchestration at the
Guildhall School of Music, turning to lighter forms of music after war service. Also of
interest is the fact that Ambrose commissioned a number of arrangements from Fud
Livingston an American musician with excellent jazz credentials. Livingston’s
arrangements were re-workings of jazz classics like Rose Room, Copenhagen, Bugle
Call Rag, Milenberg Joys and Dippermouth Blues; arranged ‘hot’ music with room for
jazz improvisation. Joe Crossman later maintained that Ambrose’s reconstituted
Embassy Club band came close being a jazz band, at least by the standards prevailing
in Britain at the time. Whether the club’s patrons appreciated the fact is another matter!
Visiting American musical celebrities who were favourably impressed included
George Gershwin, Irving Berlin, and Fred Astaire. Astaire later said that the Embassy
band was the best he had ever heard outside America.
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Of course not all of the music that the band played would have been jazz
oriented. As usual the current popular hits would have provided much of the stable fare
although it was still only the tunes rather than the songs that mattered – vocalists were
still not being routinely featured. Here, then, are some of the more popular hits of
1926: - Are You Lonesome Tonight, Birth Of The Blues, Black Bottom, Blue Room, Bye
Bye Blackbird, Clapa Yo’ Hands, ‘Deed I Do, Harmony Blues, I Know That You
Know, Mountain Greenery, The Riff Song, When The Red Red Robin Comes Bob Bob
Bobbin’ Along, When Day Is Done. Most of these, as songs, became ‘standards’ and
some, as instrumentals, jazz classics. Ambrose was particularly fond of When Day Is
Done and used it as one of the ‘party pieces’ featuring his own fiddle playing –
presumably by now supported by Joe Crossman’s ‘hot’ tenor work. Later Ambrose
would adopt this song as his signature tune, but in 1926 he still didn’t need one.
One other hit of the time deserves closer attention –Black Bottom. Like
Charleston it came to represent the Roaring Twenties and was also a dance that
originated in a Broadway show – in this case ‘GEORGE WHITES SCANDALS OF
1926’. And a scandal it certainly caused after crossing the Atlantic! Apart from its
Caribbean-style hip movements the Black Bottom involved a lively mixture of sideturns, stamps, skating-glides, skips and leaps, all of course accompanied by wild jazz
rhythms. As with the Charleston, the patrons of the Embassy Club couldn’t possibly
have attempted to dance the real thing without carnage resulting – the dance floor was
much too small. For them a slow version would have been provided but one
nevertheless incorporating the backside wiggles that distinguished this dance from its
stable mates among the animal dances, some of which were still popular in the mid1920s.
Despite the excellence of Ambrose’s band there was little chance of it being
heard by the public at large. The Embassy management would not contemplate direct
broadcasts from the club and Ambrose was unlikely to obtain studio broadcasts at peak
listening hours when the band was preoccupied at the club even if the BBC had been
prepared to grant such a privilege to a largely unknown band. It was a similar situation
with regard to stage and concert appearances: show promoters wouldn’t take the risk of
presenting an unknown band in return for the kind of fee that Ambrose was likely to
expect. Ambrose’s dilemma was the need to offset the cost of the larger band. The
quality of musicians that he insisted on employing didn’t come cheap and he was
probably subsidising the additional intake out of his income from other sources –
mainly the gigs for private functions. Given his own life-style requirements substantial but not yet outrageously lavish - Ambrose had some cause for concern. This
is how he later put it: - ‘We had been at the Embassy Club almost continuously for six
years…six enjoyable years, but the time had come to move-on. Everyone who heard
the band said how good it was, but “everyone” amounted to only a few hundred
people. We were undoubtedly missing the chance to reach a wider audience but the
problem was where to go next. They wanted us at the Astoria [a large West End
ballroom that opened in 1926] but could only offer half what we were getting at the
Embassy…with what I had to pay my American boys…impossible!’
Clearly, then, Ambrose had reached a crossroads in his career. To accept the
modest and reasonably lucrative role of a society bandleader was certainly an option.
But this would undoubtedly have required a more modest approach to the kind of
music he wanted to present. And there was something in Ambrose’s character that had
little to do with modesty!
31
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There was, of course, another option – start-up again in America. This must
have seemed an attractive proposition from a financial point of view, but Ambrose was
well aware of the pitfalls; Prohibition was still in force and most places of
entertainment, particularly in the big cities, were now in the grip of mobsters.
Moreover the competition there was keener and the opportunities in Britain more
clearly defined. It must also be appreciated that Ambrose was running a highly
profitable society band agency that had the pick of elite functions in London and
occasionally elsewhere.
As Ambrose pondered his dilemma the 1926 Festive Season approached –
always a busy time for society bandleaders. And it was while the Embassy band was
playing at a high-class private function around Christmas that one of those strange
quirks of fate occurred that would propel Ambrose to a leading position in the British
danceband firmament and eventually gain him international success.
II
1927 – 1930
Mayfair – like Bloomsbury, Whitechapel and Soho – is one of those distinct parts of
London that conjures-up in the mind something more than just a geographical area.
And what the mind’s-eye ‘sees’ is, of course, part real and part fantasy. So far as
geography is concerned reality comprises myriad streets, rows and squares bounded by
Oxford Street, Regent Street, Piccadilly, and Park Lane. So far as history is concerned
the name derives from the annual fair that took place each May on common land now
home to the present Hyde Park Corner. One remnant of this fair is the street emporium
known as Shepherds Market. This, and a few mews cottages are the only reminders
that something other than street after street of large modernistic apartment and office
blocks once existed ‘just off Park Lane’. And what did exist, at least from the late
eighteenth century, included a number of large town houses, and mansions standing in
their own grounds. Devonshire House, Grosvenor House, Brook House, Dorchester
House…and others, now giving their names to the buildings that replaced them.
These great houses and estates were the London residencies of wealthy
aristocrats and flourished when the area was just inside the western boundary of
London proper and surrounded by dairy farms, market gardens and open country incredible as this now seems. By the early years of the twentieth century Mayfair had
become an enclave of the extremely wealthy, the surrounding areas swallowed-up by a
teeming metropolis. A combination of higher labour costs, spiralling land prices in the
heart of London and Lloyd-George’s death duties, signalled the end of large
aristocratic edifices so close to the centre of town – Royal residencies of course being
an exception. As the leases ran-out on these Mayfair estates they were
unceremoniously demolished and the land re-leased to property developers.
The ground landlord for some of the southwestern part of Mayfair was the
Duke of Devonshire, and his own London seat – Devonshire House – was among the
estates being redeveloped after 1920. By the mid - 1920s the area had been almost
completely redeveloped. Around this time there was one particular construction site
that would have impressed onlookers for no other reason than its sheer size.
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Placards announced that it was to be a five-star hotel under the control of
Gordon Hotels Ltd. Towards the end of 1926 construction was nearing completion and
fitting-out the interior well under way. A press release announced that the new hotel
would be called the ‘May Fair’ and would be opened towards the end of March 1927
by the King (of Britain, not Jazz!) no less.
The managing director of Gordon Hotels was Sir Francis Towle. After
graduating from Cambridge University around the turn of the century he joined the
management of J. Lyons & Co. and gained experience in organising large scale
catering and restaurant and hotel management. During the First World War he saw
active service until being appointed Controller of Canteens at the War Office in 1916, a
post he held until 1920. It was for this work that he was knighted. He was appointed
managing director of Gordon Hotels in 1921.
Quite early on in his career Towle had become convinced that music was an
important ingredient in attracting customers to large eateries. This in itself was not new
– high-class restaurants like Gatti’s at Charing Cross had been doing this since the
early 1900s, but the idea was opened-up to a much larger clientele through the
pioneering Lyons’ Corner Houses after 1909. These large establishments catered for
what would then have been regarded as the ‘lower middle class’ and ‘respectable
working class’. Each Corner House comprised a great chamber decorated in cream and
gold after the fashion of a palace ballroom, with huge chandeliers of prism glass
hanging from a high ceiling. The ambience may have been luxurious but the food on
offer was the wholesome, reasonably priced fare that Londoners associated with ‘Joe’
Lyons. Waitresses called ‘Nippies’ glided between the tables and at certain times a
string orchestra of the Viennese type would serenade patrons. After the war the Corner
Houses occasionally hired visiting American jazz and dancebands as special
attractions.
Towle also pioneered the conversion of hotel ballrooms into restaurants with
dance floors that could be used on a regular basis, so catering for ‘outside trade’. Thus
it was that resident dance orchestras started to appear in hotels, either in addition to, or
in place of, the more traditional palm court orchestras. The reputation of a hotel’s
dance orchestra became as important as the quality of its other services and was
something that Towle paid great attention to. In the case of the May Fair Hotel he
envisaged a band that would satisfy the tastes of the large number of American tourists
that it was considered essential to attract if the hotel was to be a success.
Towards the end of 1926 Towle offered Ambrose the opportunity to supply
bands for Gordon Hotels, including the May Fair. This lucrative and high profile
contract was exactly the chance that Ambrose had been waiting for. At the May Fair
the facilities for dancing and dining would be about three times larger than at the
Embassy, and the band area able to comfortably accommodate a twelve-piece
orchestra. Moreover Towle was also interested in arranging broadcasts from the hotel
for publicity purposes. But the clincher was the annual salary - £10,000 [about
£400,000 now], not insignificant by the standards of the time. In addition to fronting
the main band at the May Fair Ambrose would also be required to supply and supervise
the music in other establishments that came within the Gordon Hotels ambit. In effect
the company was sub-contracting some of its musical requirements. Now Ambrose
was not under a formal contract at the Embassy Club. In theory he could give two
weeks notice at the appropriate time and transfer what was undoubtedly his band to a
new venue.
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Out of courtesy Ambrose forewarned the Embassy’s manager and part owner
Luigi of his intention to accept Towle’s offer. What then happened between Ambrose
and Luigi is not known but it soon became clear that the parting of the ways would be
far from straightforward. In the end Ambrose left the band and its library of
arrangements at the Embassy Club while he took-up duties with Gordon Hotels.
Ambrose continued to indirectly control the Embassy band for a while, but last fronted
it on December 31st 1926. Initially pianist/arranger Max Raderman functioned as
stand-in leader, then his brother Lou came over from America to front the band.
Ambrose’s May Fair contract with Gordon Hotels was signed early in 1927 but
would only come fully into effect when the hotel opened in March. As well as
continuing his work supplying bands for society functions – by now a lucrative
business - he had to set-about organising a new band for the May Fair from scratch,
and so far as band-building goes what Ambrose achieved at this time was a classic
example of effective big band management. As Ambrose reckoned it couldn’t be done
without a substantial American input in terms of personnel, he made the five-day boat
trip to New York. His mission was to review the very latest trends in jazz-oriented
dance music and hire a nucleus of star quality jazz musicians. So what exactly were the
latest trends? What actually made a jazz musician a star player? Ambrose had some
idea at the time…we now have the benefit of hindsight. So let’s leave Ambrose en
route to New York and attempt to get an overview of the American jazz and dance
band scene circa 1927.
Although there were some innovative things taking place on the West Coast
and elsewhere, the two places that really mattered were New York and Chicago. In
Chicago at this time King Oliver, Jelly Roll Morton, and others were approaching the
ultimate development of New Orleans-style jazz. Louis Armstrong and pianist Earl
Hines were essentially transcending New Orleans jazz as sidemen in Carroll
Dickerson’s Orchestra and in recording sessions with Armstrong’s own groups the Hot
Five and Hot Seven. Such jazz bands were unbeatable and undoubtedly provided the
main inspiration for a rising generation of both black and white jazz and danceband
musicians. Certain white jazz musicians developed what came to be known as
Chicago-style jazz. Those contributing to this style at the time were Benny Goodman,
Danny Polo, Eddie Condon, Mezz Mezzrow, Gene Krupa and others, known as the
Austin High Gang. Essentially this was a fairly pure form of jazz that eschewed
commercialism, but among its practitioners only a very few were able to resist the
temptation of earning a decent living by making commercial compromises.
Apart from those already mentioned, the bands of Doc Cook, Coon-Sanders,
Erskin Tate and Ben Pollack were also significant. Pollack’s band contained several
former members of the New Orleans Rhythm Kings, a band that in the early 1920s was
as influential as the ODJB. As mentioned earlier Ambrose had already used
arrangements by Fud Livingston, subsequently Ben Pollack’s principal arranger. These
then, and others, helped make the Chicago music scene in the mid-1920s the hottest in
the United States and therefore the world. However, after 1926 a drift of bands and
individual musicians to New York started to gather pace. One reason for this was the
increasing control of popular entertainment in Chicago by the mobs and the parallel
determination of crusading authorities to oppose them. Another reason was the sheer
scale of the music business in the Big Apple and the opportunities for earning big
money that this represented.
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Almost all the big names in jazz and dance music did recording and radio
session work in addition to their regular work in established bands. The day of the star
‘session musician’ had arrived. The most vibrant jazz developments in mid-1920s
New York took place in Harlem clubs largely outside the experience of the general
public. This was the essential ‘campus’ for an up-and-coming generation of jazz
musicians that, along with their Chicago counterparts, would come to dominate jazz
and swing music in the 1930s and later. The spin-off from such activity came from the
need for these musicians to earn a living in the more commercially minded world (for
blacks) inside and (for whites) outside Harlem.
Just as a group of white musicians in Chicago developed a variant of New
Orleans-style jazz, so too did a similar group in New York. Of the several bands that
developed this so-called New York-style cornettist Red Nichols led one of the best
known. Apart from Nichols, the band included trombonist Miff Mole, clarinettist
Jimmy Dorsey, banjoist Eddie Lange and drummer Vic Berton. All these musicians
significantly influenced the development of jazz-oriented dance music. So too did key
members of the Harlem-based Duke Ellington band, although the band as such had yet
to achieve the widespread fame that would come with a later residency at the Cotton
Club. At the Roseland Ballroom Fletcher Henderson’s band continued to attract critical
acclaim and was matched in esteem by the Jean Goldkette band (Detroit-based but
frequently working in New York). Indeed, in 1926 a widely reported Battle of the
Bands had taken place at the Roseland Ballroom between the Henderson and Goldkette
outfits. The result was at best a draw!
If Fletcher Henderson’s chief contribution to dance music came mainly through
the innovative arranging skills of himself and his associate Don Redman, then key
members of Goldkette’s band influenced how arranged music and improvised solo
passages were played. Overall, Goldkette/Challis produced a distinctive ‘sound’ that
later came to be associated with Hollywood musicals. In both cases the bands were
ahead of their time, too far in some respects particularly in the case of Jean Goldkette
who by 1927 was running into trouble with radio and record company executives over
the amount of unadulterated jazz on offer. Fletcher Henderson didn’t have quite the
same problem, although it would take many years for his type of swinging jazz to be
universally appreciated by the public at large. Another New York jazz band that
offered similar fare was the California Ramblers, which at various times included Red
Nichols, Adrian Rollini, and Jimmy Dorsey.
Of the commercial dance bands based in New York none surpassed the quality
of the one led by Isham Jones. Like Fletcher Henderson, Jones wrote many of the
arrangements used by his own band and still fronted it on tenor sax, with occasional
contributions to the rhythm section on piano. The fact that he was a prolific and
successful Tin Pan Alley tunesmith has tended to obscure his contributions to the big
band genre, which were always significant despite intermittent ‘retirements’.
And the self-proclaimed King of Jazz? Well, he was doing very nicely indeed
with a large danceband occasionally augmented to around forty players for special
presentations of Symphonic Syncopation. With record sales running into millions a
year, extensive exposure on radio and an international reputation Paul Whiteman was a
superstar with a lot of money and influence in the world of show business.
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Only one other American bandleader at this time attempted to emulate Paul
Whiteman’s symphonic ambitions – Vincent Lopez. Like Whiteman he had a highclass danceband, augmented for special concerts. To some extent such aggregations
paved the way for the popular rhythmic light music of the 1930s and later. In the late
1920s they were really a distraction from more important developments taking place in
the instrumental configuration of bands, and orchestration methods. And because such
developments affected what Ambrose was doing in America in the winter of 1927 we
must take a closer look at them.
One thing we can be fairly certain of is that Ambrose had already made up his
mind on the new band’s configuration – distinct brass, sax, and rhythm sections
nominally led by his own fiddle playing. In reality the first trumpet player would
assume the leading role most of the time. Ambrose’s task as leader would mainly be
limited to selecting the programme and ‘counting-in’ the band at the start of a number.
However he had no intention of wielding a baton at this stage in his career and at least
so far as live performances were concerned he remained a working musician.
Ambrose’s brass section was to comprise two trumpets and one trombone, a
fairly standard grouping, although Paul Whiteman, Fletcher Henderson and a few
others had by this time added a third trumpet and second trombone. It was not yet usual
to have a separate trombone section. Little advance had been made in trombone
technique since Miff Mole transcended the New Orleans ‘tailgate’ style of playing and
in 1927 he still set the standard for jazz-oriented dance band trombonists, at least so far
as open playing was concerned. The use of mutes was becoming important though and
here the inspiration came from Duke Ellington’s trombone player Sam Nanton.
The principal brass instrument in dancebands after the mid-1920s was the
trumpet – indeed, it was the leading melody instrument in jazz-oriented dance bands.
Even in pure jazz bands the trend to replace the cornet was gathering place. Until the
mid-1920s the cornet had certain perceived advantages – a mellower tone, ease of
rapid playing and strength in the middle range. However in the mid-1920s trumpet
makers brought out models that went a long way to matching such characteristics, and
this encouraged the transition. In 1926 Louis Armstrong changed-over permanently to
trumpet and proceeded to enhance the performance standards for jazz trumpeters just
as he had done for cornet players. Some cornet players held out, including King Oliver
and Bix Beiderbecke. Both, like Armstrong, influenced horn playing in general.
Oliver’s use of mutes was particularly important and Duke Ellington’s lead trumpet
player Bubber Miley developed many innovative mute techniques that had previously
been pioneered by Oliver for the cornet. Mention should also be made of Isham Jones’
trumpet player Louis Panico who developed the ‘talking trumpet’ effect after studying
Joe Oliver’s mute work. In some ways Beiderbecke paved the way for the ‘cool’ style
of jazz that came later. Another influential cornet player who also switched to trumpet
in the mid-1920s was Red Nichols. Noted mainly for his brilliant open playing,
Nichols greatly influenced dance band trumpeters required to provide ‘hot’ solos,
nominally improvised but in reality carefully crafted beforehand. Bix Beiderbecke’s
cornet technique, open and muted, was unorthodox but highly influential, again also
for trumpet players. His intonation was faultless, tone magnificent and musical attack
perfect.
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Like Louis Armstrong, Bix was an innate melodist and brilliant improviser.
There were however major differences between the two players – Bix, unlike Louis,
rarely altered his tone, made much less use of vibrato, and improvised much closer to
the melody line.
If Ambrose’s proposed brass section was fairly standard for the time, so too
was his intended reed section – basically, two altos and a tenor. However, all his sax
players would be required to double on clarinet and at least one to provide baritone
solos. The use of a clarinet ensemble had been pioneered by Fletcher Henderson in
1924 and was still considered rather ‘advanced’. The single clarinet, however,
remained popular as a means of providing the usual florid obbligatos around lead
melodies and an occasional improvised arpeggio. Generally speaking two styles of
clarinet playing dominated jazz in the mid-1920s - a ‘smooth’ style as exemplified by
Barney Bigard, Jimmie Noone, Larry Shields and Jimmy Dorsey, and an ‘intense’ style
associated with Pee Wee Russell, Johnny Dodds, and Benny Goodman. Most
danceband leaders preferred the former – Ambrose was an exception.
Although the clarinet remained the most important reed instrument in jazz until
well into the 1930s, by the mid-1920s the alto saxophone had become the principal
reed instrument in jazz-oriented dance orchestras. By this time the alto’s lead and solo
roles had become reasonably well established. The two main innovators on alto were
Jimmy Dorsey and Frankie Trumbauer (both at this time with the Goldkette band, but
also recording with ad-hoc groups). Dorsey developed the use of multiphonics, false
fingering and triple tonguing, while Trumbauer’s clear tone, elegant phrasing and
smooth articulation were highly influential.
The role of the tenor saxophone was not fully developed at this time,
particularly as a solo instrument. In the saxophone ensemble it had a supporting role,
generally playing a line beneath the lead alto. Unfortunately there was a tendency for
arrangers to overuse effects like slap tonguing, smearing and assorted ‘farmyard
noises’, giving the instrument a comic role. In time the tenor would become a major
solo voice in jazz, but that time was a long way off in 1927. However, one player who
significantly improved tenor technique was already emerging as an innovator in the
mid 1920s – Coleman Hawkins with Fletcher Henderson’s band, although it would be
some years before his famous tenor style became fully developed. Equally influential
at this time was Frankie Trumbaur on C-melody sax, a special kind of tenor. As with
his alto playing, it was the adoption of a smooth articulation, fine tone and
sophisticated phrasing that impressed other players. Fud Livingston was also widely
admired for his tenor solos around this time. The tenor sax did eclipse its rivals in
those dance bands that eschewed the influence of jazz – the ‘sweet’ bands. Indeed, in
such bands the tenor, played ‘straight’ often took the place of the trumpet as the main
melody lead for the entire band. One of the finest ‘straight’ tenor players was Isham
Jones, much admired, even by jazzmen, for his quality of tone and phrasing.
The baritone sax, unlike the alto and tenor, was not widely used in danceband
sax sections at this time, although Don Redman occasionally played one in Fletcher
Henderson’s band. Adrian Rollini played solos on the bass saxophone that mostly
came within the range of the baritone, but apart from these two examples there were no
discernable influences on those who used it for solo work. As with the tenor, its full
potential had yet to be realised. Other appendages to the sax section depended on skills
that sax players might have over and above normal requirements.
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It was always an advantage to have flute, piccolo, oboe, or soprano sax abilities
available within a reed section so that arrangers could include special effects as and
when required. Ambrose was one of the few bandleaders to envisage a regular
ensemble role for the flute at an early stage. Don Redman was one of the first arrangers
to include solos specifically for the flute and Paul Whiteman, Vincent Lopez and Ben
Pollack also occasionally featured flute solos. Don Redman also used the soprano
saxophone without vibrato to simulate oboe effects, but its inclusion in danceband sax
sections was unusual.
The four-piece rhythm section was by now a standard requirement for all
except very small dance bands. However the instrumental line-up was not quite so
clear-cut in 1927. Electrical recording and broadcasting processes had opened up
possibilities for including two instruments – the guitar and double bass – that were
considered unsuitable for live performances, despite certain advantages over the banjo
and tuba. Eventually the guitar and double bass would triumph, but in the late 1920s
the standard rhythm section comprised piano, drums, banjo and tuba. Of these the most
versatile was the piano, so lets see what developments had taken place since ragtime
styles had been transcended in the early 1920s.
For those bands pursuing the kind of jazz related to or derived from the New
Orleans style Jelly Roll Morton continued to set the standard both for solo and
ensemble playing. For jazz-influenced dance bands the Harlem Stride School was more
influential because of its greater relevance to formally arranged music, although
improvisation skills remained important. James P. Johnson, Willie ‘The Lion’ Smith
and Luckey Roberts were still its most renowned practitioners, although by this time
Earl Hines, Duke Ellington and Fats Waller were emerging as innovative stride players
with something more to offer. Of these, Hines would have the most influence in the
long term and essentially set the standard for pianists in big bands well into the 1930s.
It is also worth noting that Bix Beiderbecke, an accomplished pianist, was
experimenting with a blues-based stride style in the late 1920s that influenced many
soloists.
Unlike pianists, drummers diverged significantly in the kinds of style adopted
throughout the 1920s. By 1927 the various components of the modern drum kit had
been perfected and adopted by up-to-date drummers. The pedal-operated bass drum
was now standard and the high-hat cymbal (also foot operated) just coming into
widespread use. A tom-tom was usually included in addition to the regulatory snare
drum and a varying range of suspended cymbals. A set of temple blocks, cowbells and
a wood block were invariably included for special effects. Occasional use was also
being made of timpani, particularly the pedal-tuneable kind, and a pair was used in
Whiteman’s concert orchestra, although an additional percussionist was employed to
play them.
By the late 1920s the largely improvised New Orleans style of drumming,
typified by Baby Dodds and Zutty Singleton, had been largely superseded by a variety
of styles that required more formal playing techniques, although there was still scope
for improvisation even when the drum parts were written-out. By this time much
greater use was being made of cymbals in accompanying patterns and ‘hot cymbal’
playing was becoming popular using either suspended cymbals or (with sticks) on the
newly introduced high-hat. Another difference creeping in was more extensive use of
the bass drum, particularly where the tuba had been superseded by the double bass.
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Increasingly danceband drummers were being expected to maintain a steady
tempo within the rhythm section and this represented at least one essential difference
between dancebands and authentic jazz bands. Nevertheless it was jazz drummers who
set the standard for all types of rhythmic percussion techniques, the main influences
coming from Ben Pollack, Vic Berton (Red Nichol’s band), and Kaiser Marshall (with
Fletcher Henderson). Two young players making an impression in jazz circles at the
time were Dave Tough and Gene Krupa.
The banjo remained an important rhythm section instrument in 1927, although
electrical recording techniques enabled the more versatile, but less percussive, guitar to
be featured occasionally on records. The banjo was usually matched with the tuba and
bass drum in the rhythm section, but when the tuba started to be replaced by string bass
it was found that the latter instrument was best matched with the guitar. The
introduction of the arched-top steel-stringed guitar in the mid-1920s enabled a
plectrum to be used and this enhanced the sound considerably. Some leaders, like Paul
Whiteman, used both banjo and guitar in tandem - others had their banjo player double
on guitar. So far as banjo playing goes there were so many good rhythm players that no
names stand out as being particularly influential. Eddie Lang was a fine rhythm
banjoist who also excelled as a soloist, but is mainly remembered as the inventor of
jazz guitar technique. His pioneering work in this field was outstanding but rightly
belongs to developments after 1928.
The tuba was something of an interloper in jazz and dance bands. Early jazz
bands had used the double bass – played with a bow – to enhance the bass line, but this
proved unsatisfactory for acoustic recording. The kind of tuba most favoured for
recording purposes was the sousaphone with its large forward facing ‘bell’. Although
there were some fine tuba players around who could produce credible ‘hot’ solo
passages the instrument was usually restricted to 2/4-time, and this set the pattern for
the rhythm section. The adoption of a plucking/slapping technique for the double bass
by small group jazz musicians in the early 1920s enabled rhythm sections to play in
4/4-time, a trend pioneered by Louis Armstrong’s small bands. It was this trend that
eventually accelerated the demise of the tuba, although some bandleaders (including
Paul Whiteman and Isham Jones) effectively transferred it to the brass section. It was
Isham Jones’ tuba player, John Kuhn, who set the standard throughout the 1920s at
least on the sousaphone. Some bandleaders attempted to substitute the bass saxophone
for the tuba; the leading exponent of this being multi-instrumentalist Adrian Rollini,
but the idea didn’t really catch on. Ambrose was aware of rhythm section
developments in America but was rather slow in adopting them.
The addition of unusual instruments was becoming popular, particularly in the
percussion department of the larger aggregations. Leaders like Paul Whiteman and
Vincent Lopez were regularly using such things as the xylophone, vibraphone, chimes,
and the glockenspiel. These larger orchestras invariably employed additional
percussionists - in smaller orchestras the drummer coped as best he could. Whiteman
and Lopez also used additional woodwind instruments such as oboes, bassoons, etc.,
but none of these additions impacted on the development of dancebands proper.
The Whiteman and Lopez orchestras – of course – had string sections, a trend
followed by most dance orchestras that tended towards the ‘sweeter’ side of things.
However, most string sections were quite small – two or three violinists at most. Few
bandleaders followed Whiteman’s example of including banks of violins, violas,
cellos…and a harp!
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Some ‘hot’ bands did have string sections that had a stab at playing in ‘jazz
mode’, notably Jean Goldkette’s outfit, which included the legendary Joe Venuti
within its ranks. The Paul Ash orchestra also featured some ‘hot’ fiddle ensemble work
(provided by Ash himself and one other violinist). Ambrose did not originally intend to
include a string section in the May Fair band but augmentation for recording and
broadcasting purposes induced him to do so on an occasional basis – for better or
worse depending on ones point of view!
Finally, something must be said about orchestrating methods being used around
this time. For jazz-oriented dance orchestras the role of the arranger had become
crucial. Of course there were still small units that, like most authentic jazz bands, used
‘head’ arrangements – a term with a variety of meanings but always implying informal
methods of deciding how a piece of music would be played. This was the kind of
arrangement that Ambrose used for his bands when they were smallish units. At the
other end of the scale large orchestras like Whiteman’s required detailed
orchestrations, each player being supplied with a written ‘part’. However it would be a
mistake to think that his orchestrations were identical to those used by, say, symphony
orchestras. Because it was a jazz-oriented dance orchestra some scope for
improvisation by key soloists would have been included. In general the more jazzinclined the orchestra the more genuine would such improvisations be. Also, even in
orchestras the size of Whiteman’s the rhythm section players would have had to
improvise most of their contributions around given chord progressions. For these and
related reasons the distinction between pure jazz and certain kinds of dance music of
the era is not as clear-cut as some purists would like us to believe.
There were, of course, dance orchestras that were not jazz-oriented or even
mildly influenced by jazz. Even in 1927 some Viennese-type dance orchestras
remained in business and very popular. Also some orchestras adopted standard big
band sections and instrumentation but had all parts fully notated and usually played
entirely ‘straight’. These came to be known as ‘sweet’ bands and by 1927 some of
these were becoming extremely popular. For such bands, arranging methods replicated
those used by orchestrators catering for light music orchestras. All the major music
publishers ran subscription-arranging services for such outfits.
By 1927, then, there was a reasonable distinction between arranging methods
for jazz bands, jazz-oriented dance orchestras and all the rest. As some smallish jazz
bands developed into larger jazz orchestras the need for more formal arranging
methods would arise, but in 1927 this was not generally the case. One exception – a
rather special case – was Duke Ellington, particularly regarding his own compositions,
but the techniques involved here were ahead of their time. The important thing to
appreciate is that written arrangements for jazz-oriented dancebands had by now moreor-less been formalised. Moreover the format that had come to be standardised by 1927
was essentially the same as would be used by big bands subsequently, in fact right up
to the present. An arrangement prepared by Don Redman, Bill Challis or Isham Jones
in 1927 would be quite intelligible to the present generation of big band musicians,
even though some of the instrumentation and most of the playing styles would be quite
different.
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Having gained a reasonable idea of how the American danceband scene would
have appeared to Ambrose in 1927 we must now take a look at what he got up to on
arriving in a New York gripped by winter. Or rather present the best possible account
based on the fragmentary evidence available. Of one thing we can be reasonably
certain – Ambrose’s initial policy was to recruit an entirely American band.
Preliminary discussions with the Meyer-Davis agency probably convinced Ambrose
that this would be difficult to arrange within the time available - he could spend two
weeks at most in New York before returning to London. Of course Ambrose was after
star players and most of these were with established bands and/or committed to session
work. A partial solution to his dilemma came via a chance encounter with the AfricanAmerican pianist/bandleader Luckey Roberts. Among Roberts’ wide circle of contacts
were some of the top white jazz musicians then working in New York and known
informally as The Family (the East Coast equivalent of Chicago’s Austin High Gang).
One of these was the trumpet player Henry ‘Hot Lips’ Levine. Apart from his
reputation as a jazz soloist, Levine was a talented brass section leader with
orchestrating skills and directing experience. Moreover he was available…at a price!
Clearly the price was right because before Ambrose left New York Levine had
been engaged both to play in the band and assist in its formation. Perhaps wisely
Ambrose resisted the temptation to have Levine recruit a completely American band
and bring it over to London in time for the opening of the May Fair. However before
Ambrose left the Big Apple some progress was made on recruiting key players. To
lead the sax section Ambrose/Levine attempted to lure Jimmy Dorsey away from the
Goldkette band, but without success. However Dorsey supplied a list of sax players
who might be interested and for a while it looked as though Ambrose might get his
entire three-man sax section from America, but only a lead alto player was signed-up.
It was a similar situation with rhythm section players. Four experienced session
musicians with varying backgrounds, but regularly playing together, expressed interest
but only three could make definite commitments. Ambrose decided to make-do with
those American musicians he was able to personally audition and make-up the shortfall
as best he could after returning to London.
Whether Levine brought the American contingent together for rehearsal
purposes in the few weeks before they were due to embark for Britain is not known.
The original idea had been to commission a number of arrangements in America and
do a certain amount of rehearsing, but without a complete band there was probably
little point. Nevertheless Ambrose did purchase around fifty orchestrations from a top
freelance arranger called Archie Bleyer. It is also possible that Henry Levine, and two
of the new recruits who had arranging skills, started work on contributions that later
appeared under their names.
On arriving back in Britain there was an urgent need for Ambrose to present the
case for work permits for the American musicians, aided no doubt by Sir Francis
Towle who had friends in high places. Although the Musicians Union (MU) was likely
to object, at this time it carried little weight with the government and a more-or-less
‘open door’ policy was still in operation. Anyway the permits were granted for six
months in each case with the possibility (but no more than that) of renewal after that at
three monthly intervals. Next, Ambrose had to recruit more British-based musicians in
order to complete the band line-up.
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So far as Ambrose was concerned there was only one tenor player in Britain
who could meet his required standard – Joe Crossman. Despite his promise to Luigi
not to poach from the Embassy band Ambrose did just that, probably making
Crossman an offer too good to refuse. For second alto player Ambrose obtained the
services of Jack Miranda, an American sax man then working in Britain.
Filling the trombonist’s chair presented Ambrose with a problem given the
limited time available. He seems to have had little faith in any of the talent
immediately available and was obliged to compromise by hiring a relatively
inexperienced British player. It’s never been clear whether the second trumpet player
was hired in New York or London, although he certainly hailed from America.
Finally, to complete the band, Ambrose required the services of a tuba player.
For this still important rhythm component he got one of the best players then available,
and one who could also double on string bass when required. Aware, no doubt, that the
Americans’ stay was likely to be short-term Ambrose also engaged two additional
rhythm players who had come to his attention while casting round for British
musicians – Max Bacon (drums) and Joe Brannelly (banjo/guitar). Both would become
important long-term members of Ambrose’s band. Leaving these two additions out of
the equation for the moment, the completed May Fair orchestra comprised ten
musicians plus Ambrose himself. The next thing that Ambrose had to address with
some urgency was the need for additional material and orchestrators to provide it.
Two freelance arrangers Ambrose approached were Ronnie Munro and Ray
Noble. Munro had already supplied some of the arrangements that Ambrose used at the
Embassy Club, and Noble was making quite a name for himself as an arranger with
advanced ideas. In fact the two had jointly won an arranging contest that the Melody
Maker held in 1926. Although neither worked exclusively for Ambrose they both
became directly concerned with the band’s formation.
Another established freelance arranger with a growing reputation was Lew
Stone and apart from supplying orchestrations for the new band he became involved
with its musical development and was a pivotal influence in Ambrose’s rise to fame
and fortune. Lew Stone was about the same age as Ambrose and his childhood and
family background similar. He had started piano lessons while still a child and by his
teens had become a gifted amateur player and fluent reader of music. On leaving
school he joined the family business but after becoming interested in Jazz and learning
to play the piano rhythmically he successfully auditioned for a local dance band. By
the early 1920s he was playing with West End bands and eventually joined Bert
Ralton’s Savoy Havana Band. By the mid 1920s he had also become an accomplished
freelance arranger, in addition to working as a session pianist. What impressed
Ambrose was that Lew had theories about arranging that transcended accepted
orchestration techniques and were concerned with what Duke Ellington later termed
the ‘sound identity’ of a band. This was the kind of thing that later obsessed Glenn
Miller, but in 1927 the notion was somewhat radical. After preliminary discussions
Ambrose recognised Lew’s talents and engaged him to co-ordinate the arranging effort
and assist in the development of the band. Effectively he was to become Ambrose’s
chief arranger and deputy but neither of these titles would be used because Lew Stone
never worked exclusively for Ambrose. Even so, much of his time over the following
few years would be devoted to the Ambrose band and in a capacity that went beyond
the mere supply of arrangements.
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To complete the team of arrangers Ambrose made a rather unusual choice. Fred
Elizalde was a young Spanish-American musician with a flamboyant approach to life
in general and music in particular. He came from one of the wealthiest families in the
Philippines and showed early promise as a classical pianist and composer. After
studying in mainland America he switched his attention to more rhythmic forms of
music and soon became an authority on the latest trends in jazz and ‘hot’ dance music.
Apart from playing with, and arranging for, various ad-hoc bands in New York he
wrote articles for influential music journals like Orchestra World. Around 1926 he
came to Britain, ostensibly as a post-graduate student, and formed a semi-pro band at
Cambridge University. According to legend Ambrose was at a Cambridge college ball
with one of his society bands and Elizalde’s band was also playing at the same event.
Ambrose was supposedly intrigued by what he heard and lost no time in signing-up
Elizalde as an arranger for his soon-to-be-established May Fair band.
Lew Stone commenced the task of co-ordinating the team of arrangers, and
organising the new band’s library, towards the end of February. How many
arrangements were involved at this early stage is not known but clearly a substantial
number would have been required over and above those already obtained from Archie
Bleyer in America. Almost all the popular tunes previously listed, particularly those
after 1920, would have been essential for the band’s start-up repertoire – one hundred
and fifty items at least. The amount of arranging effort required in a short space of time
was clearly substantial. No doubt Ambrose, or more likely Lew Stone, laid down some
‘house rules’ that would ensure a degree of commonality so far as the format of
submitted arrangements was concerned. It probably was also Lew’s responsibility to
supervise the preparation of the notated ‘parts’ required by individual players.
Here’s the line-up for the new band: AMBROSE & HIS MAY FAIR ORCHESTRA
Director:
Brass:
Reeds:
Rhythm:
Strings:
Arrangers:
Henry Levine (trumpet)
Harry Wild (trumpet)
Bill Morley (trombone)
Lou Martin (alto/clarinet/baritone/flute)
Jack Miranda (alto/clarinet/soprano)
Joe Crossman (tenor/clarinet/baritone)
George Posnack (piano/+arranger)
Lee Conna (banjo/violin)
Dick Escott (tuba/string bass)
Henry Rederman (drums)
Joe Brannelly (banjo/guitar)*
Max Bacon (timpani/xylophone)*
Sidney Lipton (violin)*…et al.
Lew Stone (co-ordinator), Fred Elizalde,
Ronnie Munro, Ray Noble.
*Occasional additions.
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The absence of vocalists in Ambrose’s band is noteworthy. It was still unusual
for dancebands to include vocal choruses while actually playing for dancing, although
bands that made records or studio broadcasts usually hired vocalists for such occasions,
or got band members to do vocals. In some cases the bandleader himself functioned as
vocalist, a good example being Jack Hylton. Vocal content was only important for
those bands associated with the mainstream of popular music. Hylton’s band was
certainly one of these - Ambrose’s wasn’t…yet.
Another notable omission was any requirement to provide support for a
floorshow or cabaret. This had certainly been necessary at the Embassy Club and over
the years Ambrose had become proficient in accompanying cabaret artists, including
singers and dancers. Neither the May Fair nor most of its associated establishments
within the Gordon Hotels group included cabaret but, as we shall see, Ambrose’s
talents in this area would not remain unused for long.
Although in some ways Ambrose might have wished for more time to rehearse
the band there was one good reason why the May Fair opening couldn’t come soon
enough, namely his own financial situation! The agreement to leave the Embassy band
in-situ had cost him dear…much of the outlay involved in starting again from scratch
had to come from his own resources. Of course Ambrose was doing quite well out of
supplying society bands for private functions, but even so the situation didn’t make
much business sense. At this stage in Ambrose’s career there was no clear distinction
between his personal and business finances. The organisational ‘umbrella’ under which
he operated – Ambrose Orchestras - was not yet a limited company, and so he was
personally vulnerable if things went wrong.
While Ambrose and the others were eagerly beavering away in London early in
March the American boys were enjoying the sea air aboard the S.S. Olympia on the
way to Britain. The arrival of the American contingent went largely unnoticed by the
show business correspondents of the British press, despite an ongoing interest in
Ambrose’s supposedly enormous remuneration. Not even the readership of the Melody
Maker was alerted to the Americans’ presence in Britain until after the May Fair had
opened. Even if they had been, few would have found the names familiar. Of the six
musicians who came over the best known in America would have been Henry ‘Hot
Lips’ Levine, a dynamic trumpet player greatly influenced by Red Nichols. Like
Nichols, he had played with the California Ramblers and other bands that exemplified
the New York jazz style. Also like Nichols, Levine favoured a mainly open, clear
toned, style of playing and always insisted that any brass section he led played no more
than half its time per session with mutes fitted.
Sax section leader Louis Martin was a multi-instrumentalist; apart from playing
the entire range of saxophones he was an outstanding clarinettist, an early exponent of
the flute as a solo jazz instrument, and also a competent arranger. The second alto
player, Jack Miranda, doubled on soprano sax and was also acclaimed for his ‘hot’
clarinet solos. With Joe Crossman completing the team, Ambrose’s sax section was
potentially outstanding.
In the rhythm section pianist George Posnack only stands out from the rest due
to his additional skills as an arranger with musical ideas similar to those of Fred
Elizalde. Fats Waller, with whom he was on friendly terms, undoubtedly influenced his
stride piano style.
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Drummer Henry Rederman was noted for his ‘hot’ cymbal playing, and an
advanced drumming technique representative of New York-style jazz. His brush
technique, not then in widespread use, was particularly acclaimed. Banjoist Lee Conna
was a highly regarded session musician who could also play guitar and ‘hot’ fiddle
when required to do so. Dick Escott was hired specifically to play sousaphone,
although he was also competent on double bass. His background before joining
Ambrose was varied and included playing in one of Jack Hylton’s subsidiary bands.
The two additional rhythm players hired by Ambrose were at this stage only
auxiliary members of the band, although both would become regular inclusions in due
course. Max Bacon was a twenty-four year old self-taught drummer and multipercussionist who started playing with East London dancebands while still in his
‘teens. By the early 1920s he had developed an incisive jazz drumming style and
mastered whatever percussion instruments were around at the time. By the mid-1920s
he was playing with the Guilt Edged Four, a band that included Ronnie Munro on
piano, and played at jazz establishments like Rector’s, the Florida Club and the FortyThree Club. By the time he joined Ambrose, Max Bacon was considered to be one of
the finest jazz drummers then working in Britain and particularly noted for his ‘hot’
cymbal playing. Apart from expertise on the regular drum set, Max had mastered the
recently introduced pedal timpani (the pedal being used to obtain different pitches) and
the xylophone.
Joe Brannelly was an Irish-American who came to Britain in the mid-1920s to
play banjo in Bert Ralton’s band. While the band was on tour in South Africa in 1926
Ralton suffered a fatal accident and the band folded. Joe returned to Britain just as
Ambrose was forming the May Fair outfit and a chance meeting between the two
resulted in Joe coming to work for Ambrose. For the first few months of the May Fair
band’s existence, he functioned almost exclusively as band manager, occasionally
subbing for the regular banjoist, or playing guitar as an optional extra. In due course he
would join the band on a regular basis while retaining his management role. It is
almost impossible to overemphasize the importance of Joe Brannelly to Ambrose’s
success over the subsequent ten years, not as an instrumentalist – although he was very
good – but as a ‘fixer’ and talent spotter, constantly on the look-out for instrumental
and vocal talent to enhance the reputation of the band. Although quite settled in
Britain, Joe Brannelly returned regularly to America for short spells and kept in
constant touch with a stupendously wide range of contacts in New York. It would not
be too much of an exaggeration to say that almost every name previously mentioned in
connection with the New York music scene after 1920 was known personally to Joe
Brannelly, and quite a few were friends. Apart from his musical and organisational
talents, Brannelly was an expert on the technical aspects of radio and electronics in
general. He constructed his own short-wave receiving equipment and was an avid
listener to American radio stations, particularly the broadcasts by dancebands that
reached Britain in the wee small hours.
In mid-March Ambrose gave a party for the members of the new band. The
following day rehearsals began, and these must have been quite intensive given the
amount of material to get through in the short time available before the hotel was due
to open. Ambrose’s rehearsing procedures did not change much over the years after
formal arrangements had replaced the ‘head’ variety. For new material the appropriate
arranger would briefly outline what was required and then take the band through the
number, each player reading from a supplied part.
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In some cases the arranger would also be playing in the band and/or Ambrose
would be playing the violin – either way the arranger directed the band until Ambrose
either signalled his approval or suggested changes. In the case of stock arrangements,
or previously used material merely being brushed-up, Ambrose usually took control
from the start. The important thing to note is that he ensured that whenever possible
arrangers were directly involved with the band so far as the interpretation of their work
was concerned. Not all bandleaders considered this necessary, but those who did
invariably got better results. Moreover, Ambrose rarely asked for changes to be made
in the structure of an arrangement or the interpretation of a passage by a soloist or
ensemble. His principal concern was with the quality – rather than the form – of the
band’s output. If someone dropped a note, came in late, played off-key or some such
thing Ambrose would invariably notice and the guilty party would then be subjected to
anything from a sarcastic comment to the Ambrose Death Look, depending on the
perceived seriousness of the offence. In some cases an entire section might displease
Ambrose, in which case he would come out with a remark such as: ‘The trumpets
sound like a bad smell’, or ‘The saxes sound like warts’. Rehearsing with Ambrose in
attendance was always demanding and never dull!
King George V presided over the opening of the May Fair Hotel on the 27th
March 1927. That evening Sir Francis Towle and his fellow directors gave a reception
for one thousand invited guests…and Ambrose’s new band made its debut in the main
ballroom. The following day the hotel opened for business and from this time on the
drinks, or anything else for that matter, would certainly not be ‘on the house’. Apart
from its three hundred bedrooms – ranging from singles to self-contained suits – the
May Fair provided all the facilities and services necessary to qualify for its ‘five-star’
status. Apart from the above-mentioned ballroom there was a residents’ restaurant and
several bars and cocktail lounges. Apart from the occasional special event the ballroom
doubled as a restaurant and as such could accommodate about seven hundred people. It
was mainly in the ballroom that Ambrose’s band played.
Apart from catering for around five hundred or so guests the hotel also made
some of its facilities available to non-residents, including dining and dancing in the
ballroom. For this kind of trade hotels tended to attract a different type of customer
compared to nightclubs. It was unusual for a nightclub to liven-up much before ten
o’clock whereas a hotel’s bars and cocktail lounges would begin to do serious business
around eight o’clock. After consuming pre-dinner drinks people would drift into the
restaurant. The band would come on at nine o’clock, invariably without the leader, and
start playing rather bland stock arrangements - brass coyly muted, drums gently
caressed with brushes. Half-an-hour or so later the leader would appear, and it was not
unknown for this to be accompanied by a drum roll and fanfare in an effort to induce a
temporary hush in the background noise and, of course, a round of applause from
inattentive guzzlers at the tables. Patrons’ intent on dancing could then expect at least
an hour of first-rate dance music based on the popular hits of the day. If the leader
himself played an instrument then he might well perform one or two ‘party pieces’,
usually to rapturous applause whereas soloists within the band would generally be
ignored. Around ten-thirty the band would get a half-hour break (union rules) during
which a lone pianist would continue to provide music for dancing. The full band would
then return and continue non-stop until one-o-clock, or possibly later. This pattern, if
not the exact details, applied to Ambrose’s band at the May Fair.
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If the working practices differed between dancebands playing at the top
nightclubs and hotels, then so too did the category of clientele. A club like the
Embassy catered for an exclusive coterie of wealthy aristocrats and their
friends…essentially the idle rich whose lifestyles ranged from the mildly degenerate to
the outright debauched. Jazz and ‘hot’ dance music provided a most suitable
accompaniment for such ‘goings-on’. The people who frequented the dining and
dancing facilities at the top hotels were usually upper middle-class types whose lives
revolved around the Protestant Work Ethic and suburban respectability. Come
midnight and it was time to depart for Basingstoke or Beaconsfield or wherever after
their Big Night Out. And on the whole these people just didn’t like jazz, or probably
any kind of uninhibited entertainment that might be associated with it. And it was such
middle-class people who were now setting the cultural, as well as political, agenda.
The era of soft lights and sweet music had arrived; at least so far as mainstream
nightspots were concerned.
Ambrose, like other jazz-inspired danceband leaders of the late-1920s, would
be forced to face the reality of changing musical tastes for commercial reasons. In 1927
such bandleaders still found it feasible to include a sprinkling of jazz standards in their
repertoire. Popular jazz titles at the time included: - Wolverine Blues, Sobbin’ Blues,
Tin Roof Blues, Mobile Blues, Copenhagen, Milenberg Joys, Sidewalk Blues, Jackass
Blues, Livery Stable Blues, Wild Man Blues, and Doctor Jazz. It’s also worth noting
that the Charleston was still a popular dance, though the patrons of the May Fair and
similar genteel establishments would have been provided with foxtrot versions. The
same goes for the Black Bottom and the Drag, both of which were associated with
popular tunes of the day. And it was primarily pop tunes that kept the May Fair
customers on their toes. Some of the best of the 1927 crop came from Broadway
shows, but even Tin Pan Alley’s routine output produced a number of standards. Here
are some examples: - Ain’t She Sweet, At Sundown, Black Bottom Stomp, The Best
Things In Life Are Free, Chloe, Can’t Help Lovin’ Dat Man, Funny Face, Hallelujah,
Ida, Me And My Shadow, My Blue Heaven, Ol’ Man River, Shakin’ The Blues Away,
Strike Up The Band, S’Wonderful, The Varsity Drag.
The durability of New York-style jazz in America was confirmed by the
success that Red Nichols & His Five Pennies had with the hit tune Ida – one million
copies sold within a year of its issue. However, something seemed to be amiss when
Jean Goldkette’s main band went out of business in mid-1927. Isham Jones also
disbanded the same year although, like Goldkette, his removal from the scene would be
only temporary. So far as most of the big names in the Goldkette band were concerned
– including Jimmy Dorsey, Eddie Lang and Bill Challis – the main beneficiary was
Paul Whiteman. Before this though, Whiteman scored something of a hit with
Mississippi Suite - another Symphonic Syncopation blockbuster composed and
arranged by Ferde Grofe. Much more interesting was another minor hit of 1927, and
also a rare example of a tune, rather than a song, doing well in the popularity stakes –
Duke Ellington’s Black & Tan Fantasy. Almost at a stroke, Ellington’s masterpiece
negated Whiteman’s pretentious efforts to synthesise jazz and classical music and,
moreover, pointed in the direction that dance music might have gone had commercial
considerations not led it directly down Tin Pan Alley.
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Although less exclusive than the Embassy Club, the May Fair was still far
removed from the kind of venue that would enable the general public to gain live
access to Ambrose’s reputedly fabulous new band. However, indirect access through
the medium of broadcasting was certainly feasible. The hotel had indeed been provided
with a ‘land line’ (a dedicated telephone connection to a BBC transmitter) but reaching
agreement with the BBC over transmissions was quite another matter, and would take
almost a year to accomplish. Ambrose was well aware that radio was now the key to
the kind of success he wanted, but could only wait on events as the hotel management
and the BBC haggled, possibly over the time slot to be allocated for broadcasts. The
BBC did not pay anything for these late-night danceband broadcasts: they were in fact
a form of indirect commercial radio – the BBC got a largely cost-free show while the
venue, and of course the band, got publicity.
For Ambrose, the delay in commencing his broadcasting career must have been
somewhat frustrating and he can’t be blamed for taking up two further options that
presented themselves for consideration shortly after the May Fair opened. The first was
the chance to record for Brunswick; the second was an opportunity to appear at the
London Palladium.
The recording offer came from a somewhat mysterious (and probably shady)
businessman called Count de Bosdari, head of the (British) Brunswick Record
Company. ‘Brunswick’ was in fact an American label and after 1923 a select range of
recordings from the American catalogue was manufactured and marketed in Britain by
Cliftophone Ltd and the Chappell Music Company respectively. The American
company merely supplied sets of metal stamps to Cliftophone who then produced the
records. In 1927 Count de Bosdari not only took-over Chappell’s distribution franchise
but went one step further and set up Brunswick/UK, a recording as well as marketing
organisation. As well as American releases the new Brunswick/UK catalogue was to
feature recordings by British artists. Brunswick/UK established a studio in London in
the spring of 1927 and over the next few months recorded mainly on an experimental
basis. Ambrose recorded six titles over two sessions in April and July using the
relatively new electrical recording technique. As an addition to the regular May Fair
band an American vocal group – the Hamilton Sisters & Fordyce - was featured on
some sides.
Here are the Brunswick/UK titles that were released in 1927: - Birth Of The Blues, My
Heart Stood Still, Whispering Pines, One Summer Night, Possibly, Take Your
Fingers Out Of Your Ears.
All the arrangements are examples of advanced trends in jazz-oriented dance
music. Performance-wise, there is some good ensemble work by the brass, and the sax
section is generally outstanding. Unfortunately the rhythm section does not quite meet
the standards expected of a top-flight band, but this may have been due to recording
difficulties rather than poor performance. Some of the jazz solos that permeate these
arrangements are, however, superb. In this respect Henry Levine (trumpet), Louis
Martin (alto and baritone), Jack Miranda (clarinet) and Joe Crossman (tenor) are
particularly noteworthy. Solo-wise, only the trombone and piano come over as
inadequate. The vocal group (Hamilton Sisters & Fordyce) is very good and the vocal
parts well integrated into the arrangements. It’s clear from just these few fragments
that Ambrose’s first May Fair band could have become a first rate recording outfit on
the ‘Brunswick’ label – important because of the American connection. However, for
some reason Ambrose fell out with de Bosdari and did not record again with
Brunswick until after the ignoble count departed from the scene later in the year.
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This left the field clear for Fred Elizalde, who recorded for Brunswick/UK,
initially using the May Fair band (masquerading as Fred Elizalde & His Music). When
Elizalde formed his own band at the end of 1927 he continued to record for Brunswick
and soon proved the importance of the link between successful record sales and
broadcasting. Elizalde cut some fine jazz titles for Brunswick over the following years,
some of which were issued in America. Strange that this most un-commercial of
musicians should have enjoyed almost instant commercial success when he became a
bandleader whereas Ambrose was obliged to fumble about for years before achieving
wider recognition.
Fred Elizalde was also concerned with Ambrose’s second attempt to reach a
wider audience in the summer of 1927 – the May Fair band’s appearance on the stage
of the London Palladium. Regarded at the time as Britain’s premier variety theatre, the
Palladium presented weekly (sometimes fortnightly) shows based on a succession of
‘turns’, each of which represented some aspect of popular entertainment. The British
format was similar to American vaudeville, and there was some interchange between
British and American variety artists. One difference though was that Britain had no
general equivalent to America’s Ziegfeld Follies (and similar shows) in which a degree
of coherence was established between the various acts. The British variety theatre
tradition was a leftover from the days of Victorian music hall and invariably followed
the same rigid pattern. The inclusion of dancebands in variety theatre ‘bills’ had been
pioneered in Britain by Jack Hylton and by 1927 had only been attempted by a few
other bands, non of which had yet matched Hylton’s success. Hylton usually followed
his own ‘top of the bill’ appearances at the Palladium with a tour of provincial variety
theatres, but Ambrose was confining his own efforts to a one-week slot – two shows a
night for six nights plus two matinee shows.
Advanced publicity for the Palladium shows announced that: ‘Ambrose intends
to introduce a startling new novelty in his forthcoming stage act’. The task of providing
this novelty element fell to Fred Elizalde. Now for Ambrose, Elizalde was very much
the ‘man of the moment’ so far as jazz-oriented dance music was concerned. Ambrose
had supposedly ‘discovered’ Elizalde and given him his first big break in Britain. In
reality Elizalde didn’t need to be discovered – he was his own very effective publicity
machine and would have quickly risen to the top of Britain’s jazz/danceband world,
hungry as it was for direct American involvement. Elizalde certainly had experience
and intimate knowledge of the New York music scene. Independently wealthy, he was
an accomplished pianist and had followed his studies in music theory with a
technically brilliant analysis of the structure of jazz. Somewhat like Gershwin, Grofe
and others, Elizalde believed that it was possible to synthesise modern classical music
and jazz into a completely new musical genre. Unfortunately Elizalde also harboured
some rather quirky ideas about the role of African-Americans in contributing to the
development – though not the origins – of jazz that are now known to be incorrect.
Indeed, it would be a black musician with little theoretical knowledge, Duke Ellington,
who would soon make Elizalde’s complex theories redundant.
For Ambrose’s requirements Elizalde composed a piece of music that had
various titles over time, the most acceptable being Heart Of A Negro. Apart from
requiring the regular band to be augmented by extra percussion and a second piano for
Elizalde’s own solo contribution, a troupe of dancers would have to be hired and props
constructed for the ballet that Elizalde wanted to include.
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None of this should have been a problem for Ambrose; at the Embassy he had
supported floorshows that included singers and dancers, though admittedly on a
smaller scale. At the Palladium time would be the big problem – even as a ‘top-of-thebill turn’ Ambrose would only have been allocated forty minutes at most.
Ambrose’s Palladium show opened at the end of June 1927. Although some
accounts hold that it was an unmitigated disaster this was not the case. True, there were
difficulties with Elizalde’s ballet sequence on the opening night, but these were
resolved by scrapping it for subsequent performances. If Elizalde’s revised
contribution was at least politely received it certainly didn’t stop the show. The rest of
the programme comprised a mixture of jazz classics and popular dance tunes.
Unfortunately no details of these have come to light but we do know that all of
Ambrose’s regular star soloists were featured as well as some special additions.
This was probably the first time that Ambrose ever wielded a baton, as on this
occasion he did not lead the orchestra on violin. Jean Pougnet, who probably provided
any required violin solos, led the specially added string section. A vocal group was
also included, presumably the same one that Ambrose used for recording purposes.
Publicity for Ambrose’s stage show and the fact that it took place at a West End
venue ensured an appreciative audience. No doubt some jazz aficionados would have
been irked at having to sit through preceding ‘turns’ and disappointed over the limited
time that Ambrose had at his disposal, but the traditions of the British variety theatre
were as immovable as Nelson’s Column. And the Palladium, however prestigious, was
just that – a variety theatre. And what had been good enough for Paul Whiteman had to
be good enough for Bert Ambrose! Despite reasonably good reviews Ambrose was not
too happy with the results as he perceived them, and it would be another four years
before he would front a band on a variety stage. In this respect Jack Hylton had little to
worry about so far as live competition was concerned.
Having only been operational for four month at the May Fair, Ambrose forwent
his usual summer break in August 1927. No doubt the boys in the band were given
some time off at staggered intervals but the band as such continued to function. Unlike
the Embassy Club, the May Fair did not shut down during the weeks of High Summer
although there was an inevitable fall-off in ‘outside trade’ when suburbanites headed
for Brighton, or Scarborough, or wherever. No doubt Ambrose took advantage of any
extra spare time available to indulge his passion for golf – usually played within the
confines of several exclusive clubs, membership of which was more easily acquired by
those upon whom the Prince of Wales looked with favour than by lesser mortals.
Apart from his golfing activities and certain gambling exploits, little is known
about Ambrose’s private life. He probably occupied one of the May Fair’s luxurious
residential suites soon after the hotel opened, and was known to have had a country
retreat near Tonbridge in Kent. Ambrose’s motoring interests got occasional press
attention – it was reported that he owned a number of cars ranging from a six-and-ahalf litre Bentley to a Sunbeam sports model. It is also reasonably certain that his
‘eligible bachelor’ status remained intact at this time, although whatever romantic
attachments he did have remained a mystery, even to close colleagues. Something else
that got occasional attention was Ambrose’s sartorial elegance, which in time would
become legendary. Of course he could afford to be a snappy dresser, but it went further
than this insofar as Ambrose was an acknowledged trendsetter. If he was spotted
wearing Dak’s on the golf course rather than ‘plus fours’ it soon became the talk of the
town and ultimately an acceptable thing to do in High Society.
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In September 1927 the contracts of the American musicians who had come
over from New York with Henry Levine expired, together with their work permits.
Although Levine opted to stay for a further three months the others didn’t, and
Ambrose was obliged to reorganise the May Fair band. Some time before the
American boys departed Joe Brannelly was sent to New York on what the Melody
Maker laughably described as a ‘secret mission’ to recruit suitable replacements. Here
then is Ambrose’s reconstituted May Fair band: AMBROSE & HIS MAY FAIR ORCHESTRA
Director:
Brass:
Reeds:
Rhythm:
Strings:
Arrangers:
Henry Levine (trumpet)
Dennis Ratcliffe (trumpet)
Sam Acres (trombone)
Perley Breed (alto/clarinet/baritone/tenor)
Jack Miranda (alto/clarinet/soprano)
Joe Crossman (tenor/clarinet/baritone)
Leo Khan (piano/+arranger)
Joe Brannelly (banjo/guitar)
Max Bacon (drums/xylophone)
Maurice Zaffer (timpani/drums)*
Jean Pougnet (violin) …et al*
Lew Stone (co-ordinator), Fred Elizalde,
Ronnie Munro, Ray Noble.
*Occasional additions
The two most significant American additions were Perley Breed and Leo Khan,
both practitioners of New York-style jazz and members of the group of musicians
associated with the bands of Phil Napoleon, Red Nichols and Jean Goldkette…and
numerous ad hoc groups put together for recording and/or broadcasting purposes.
Perley Breed was another all-round sax man and ‘hot’ clarinettist, and like Leo Khan
was virtually indistinguishable from his predecessor. Trombonist Sam Acres was a
relative newcomer to the West End music scene; his solo work was considered to be
only marginally better than that of his predecessor. Dennis Ratcliffe’s background
remains something of a mystery, although there’s no doubting his abilities as an
ensemble player and ‘hot’ soloist. Max Bacon, as expected, took over on drums and on
those occasions when he performed on xylophone an alternative drummer (who also
took care of the occasional timpani requirements) was included. Joe Brannelly also
joined the band on a regular basis while remaining band manager and ‘fixer’ (talent
scout). The arranging team remained unchanged and so too did their essentially nonstaff status, although Lew Stone was so closely associated with the band’s
development that he can be regarded as Ambrose’s de facto chief arranger. Lew also
occasionally played piano with the May Fair band in place of the regular pianist, and
made occasional contributions on piano, celesta or chimes at recording sessions.
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By the late autumn of 1927 it was clear that Ambrose’s meagre Brunswick
offerings had not exactly set the world on fire. It was of course early days for the
British company and the recording equipment at Brunswick’s recently established
studios above the Cavour Restaurant continued to cause problems well into 1928.
Ambrose appears to have lost interest in Brunswick’s endeavours by the end of 1927
because early in the New Year he entered into discussions with a representative of
HMV about the possibility of recording for that label. Dance music accounted for only
a small proportion of HMV’s output and much of this was taken-up by Jack Hylton’s
substantial output as well as the British releases of a number of major American bands.
However Ambrose cut a dozen or so sides for HMV during 1928. Here are the titles
that were issued later the same year: Singapore Sorrows, Without You Sweetheart, Sweet Sue, Dance Little Lady, I’m
Riding To Glory, Didn’t I Tell You, Nicolette, Adoree, Chirp Chirp, I’m More
Than Satisfied, Little Dream Nest.
These recordings made little impact at the time and are only important because
they give us some idea of what Ambrose’s second May Fair band sounded like. They
don’t represent his entry into the ranks of regular recording artists like Jack Hylton or a
whole host of other bandleaders. In musical terms they are quite good – indeed
outstanding in some respects – but were not commercially successful. For this reason
we shall delay taking a closer look at the recording industry as it was in the late 1920s
until Ambrose becomes a mainstream recording artist. Another aspect of popular music
that has been neglected up to now revolves around vocal contributions. This must now
be partly rectified because Ambrose included vocalists in both his recording sessions
and stage shows – although only at the May Fair during broadcasts.
The inclusion of a vocal chorus while a band was playing for dancing would
eventually become a common occurrence; in 1928 it was exceptional unless a band
was also broadcasting. This wasn’t so much because the dancers didn’t want vocals but
because of the difficulty in projecting the human voice above the band and the
background noise that included shuffling feet and muffled chatter. Ballrooms, unlike
theatres, were not usually constructed with acoustical considerations in mind. Of
course the answer to this problem was to use some kind of amplification for the
vocalists but the only viable means of doing this at the time was the rather un-edifying
use of a megaphone. Later, electrical amplification would come into widespread use
but before the early 1930s the technology of public address systems was too primitive
to use for quality performances. During broadcasts from a club, restaurant or hotel
ballroom it was quite feasible for vocal content to be included for the benefit of radio
listeners even though this would have been virtually inaudible to the live audience. On
the whole bandleaders resisted the inclusion of vocals while playing for dancing, but
eventually less inhibited dancers in public ballrooms began to sing along with the
band. The best way to curb this uncouth trend was to allow vocalists onto the
bandstand.
It was certainly in the interests of bandleaders to include vocal choruses
whenever numbers played on the radio were part of their recorded output. Also, radio
audiences liked to hear at least some of the words of a song rather than just the tune.
Inevitably perhaps, the BBC did not share their enthusiasm, well aware that in many
cases bandleaders were ‘plugging’ their own records and may even have been
receiving backhanders from publishing companies (‘plug money’).
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As we shall see, the BBC made several attempts to curb what turned out to be
an unstoppable trend. Record companies took an entirely opposite view and by the late
1920s it had become almost impossible for a band to record current hits without the
inclusion of a ‘vocal refrain’ however engaging the actual tune. The ‘big name’ bands
were no longer merely bands for dancing; they had become part of the pop music
mainstream. And so now we must take a closer look at the output of Tin Pan Alley
(TPA) and how the words as well as the tunes were being presented to a seemingly
insatiable public.
One of the most popular songs of the early 1920s was Tea For Two and it is
entirely typical of the popular musical style of the era. The melody consists of short
repeated phrases and the phrases themselves contain repeated notes. Musically and
lyrically it’s dead simple and quite typical of TPA fare. Another popular song of the
era was: It Had To Be You, with music by bandleader Isham Jones. True Jones’ melody
is simplistic and repetitive but unlike Tea For Two it uses some clever musical
techniques that were somewhat ahead of their time so far as pop songs of the early
1920s were concerned. And it’s not only the music that’s innovative, so too are Gus
Kahn’s lyrics – not so much the actual words but the way syntax is stretched across the
boundaries of the four-part musical structure. However simple or sophisticated, these
songs essentially put across the message: ‘I love you’ in thirty-two bars. Lyricists like
Gus Kahn, Irving Caesar, Buddy DeSylva, and many others collaborated with
composers to produce songs for vaudeville, musical theatre, or the direct sheet music
and record industries that became instant hits and some have remained popular ever
since.
In the late 1920s musical styles started to change as musical theatre and cabaret
audiences demanded more wit and sophistication, particularly from lyric writers. And
such luminaries as Rogers and Hart, George and Ira Gershwin, Cole Porter and Hoagy
Charmichael were now on hand to supply what was required. Much of this more
sophisticated output was first written for Broadway shows but even so never strayed
too far from the standard TPA formula – all songwriters who got rich did so because
they wrote commercially successful hit songs and not because of their cultural
pretensions. This meant that very few show songs were actually ‘show specific’ – a
distinction between ‘then’ and ‘now’ that goes beyond mere musical styles. So far as
dancebands and their arrangers were concerned the only words that usually mattered
were those comprising a song’s chorus. The lyrics, or even the music, of any verses
were rarely used and if this gave the chorus lyrics unintended connotations…well, too
bad! Music publishers might have objected but didn’t – they regarded a broadcast or
recorded hit by a danceband merely a ‘sampler’, boosting the sale of sheet music.
Publishers and songwriters got the same royalties regardless of the amount of vocal
content included in a performance.
Bandleaders, then, invariably restricted the vocal content of a number to a
single chorus so far as their recorded output was concerned. Record companies usually
indicated the inclusion of vocal content by adding: WITH VOCAL REFRAIN to the
record label. The vocalists were almost never named on the label for the simple reason
that no one was quite sure about the legal position if this were done. In some cases a
famous singer or vocal group recorded with a danceband on a ‘split royalties’ basis and
then received label credits – for example Al Jolson with Isham Jones.
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During radio shows band vocalists were usually named and it was mainly for
this reason that aspiring solo singers were willing to subject themselves to the trials
and tribulations of danceband work. It might take years for a singer to become a
‘headliner’ on the vaudeville circuit, but even a brief exposure over the airwaves could
mean overnight success if the vocalist concerned had something special to offer.
Bandleaders who broadcast regularly were well aware of all this and some took unfair
advantage.
On the whole pioneers like Paul Whiteman established the standard format for
danceband vocalising, though unlike many Whiteman always treated his vocalists with
consideration and paid them handsomely. Two of the finest ‘song stylists’ of the era
first came to prominence as vocalists with the Whiteman orchestra – Bing Crosby and
Mildred Bailey. Many more band vocalists would follow in their footsteps,
transcending the restrictions that bandleaders (of necessity?) placed upon them. And
there were many sub-standard vocalists who didn’t – now of no significance
whatsoever other than to be regarded as ‘spoiling factors’, detracting from a band’s
otherwise good performance. But even the poorest danceband vocalists had to base
their efforts on some particular standard and by the late 1920s this was usually the
singing style that came to be known as ‘crooning’. An important pioneer of this style
was Gene Austin, a popular American singer who owed his fame to radio and records
rather than the stage or concert hall. In 1927 he had a big hit with My Blue Heaven
(eventually clocking-up record sales of five million). The distinction between Austin’s
singing style and that of vaudeville ‘shouters’ Al Jolson and Sophie Tucker, or
‘straight’ singer Paul Robeson couldn’t have been greater. Even so, these three artists
also had million-seller hits around the same time.
Another direct influence on band vocalists in the late 1920s was ‘singing
bandleader’ Rudy Vallee. In 1927 he formed a jazz band called the Connecticut
Yankees and later secured an engagement at the Heigh-Ho Club in New York. Vallee
caused a sensation by singing through a megaphone. Now it had been the custom for
many years for an MC or bandleader to use a megaphone to announce ‘the next
number’ etc., particularly in large dance halls, but it seems that no one before Vallee
had thought of using this device for projecting the singing voice. In fact Vallee used a
specially adapted megaphone reputedly of his own design. This started a discernable
trend and by the end of the decade most bands included at least a modicum of
vocalising while playing for dancing.
Both Gene Austin and Rudy Vallee were instrumentalists (Austin on piano and
Vallee on saxophone) and so too was another profound influence on vocalists working
with jazz-oriented bands – Louis Armstrong. In extending a vocal style that had its
origins in New Orleans (and may have been invented by Jelly Roll Morton) Armstrong
adapted his own instrumental improvisational skills to the voice and popularised what
came to be called ‘scat’ singing.
So far as dancebands of the late 1920s are concerned it has been necessary to
place the emphasis on men for the simple reason that around this time few women
made it onto the bandstand either as instrumentalists or vocalists. In fact there were
quite a few talented black and white women jazz musicians obliged to restrict their
ambitions to playing in all-women amateur bands – even semi-pro outfits would only
rarely engage them. Only in the dancebands’ vocal departments did women start to
make an impact towards the end of the 1920s.
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So far as broadcasting was concerned one of the finest band singers of the time
was Mildred Bailey. Her big break came when Paul Whiteman hired her, and her
success in the early 1930s ensured that all the prominent bands that broadcast and/or
recorded started to feature female vocalists from this time on. As with their male
contemporaries, several distinct vocal styles influenced female band vocalists. Mildred
Bailey based her technique on blues and jazz styles popularised by Bessie Smith, Ma
Rainey and Ethel Waters. These African-American singers didn’t confine their efforts
to classic blues and jazz songs – much of Tin Pan Alley’s output came within their
ambit. So superior was their interpretation of routine pop songs that had it not been for
the idiotic restrictions of segregation they would have been superstars of the era. As it
was, their audiences were confined mainly to the black population who bought so
called Race Records or tuned in to local radio stations catering for the black
population. Of course there was always the tiny minority of well-heeled whites who
frequented Harlem nightclubs, including a sprinkling of show business celebrities,
music industry magnates…and of course the Prince of Wales! Indeed, it wasn’t only
white singers who were affected by what was going on in Harlem night clubs – the
more astute songwriters knew a good thing when they heard it and adapted their output
accordingly. One consequence was the ‘torch song’, and the singing style that came to
be associated with it. Two of the most notable interpreters of the genre were Ruth
Etting and Annette Hanshaw.
So far so good, but there was also a lot of pop music silliness about in the late
1920s. It wasn’t so much a case of daft lyrics in perennially popular ‘novelty’ songs,
but rather a singing style called ‘kootchy-coo’, popularised by coy vocalists called
‘boop-boop-a-doop’ girls. The song I Wanna’ Be Loved by You is a typical ‘kootchycoo’ song with at least a degree of period charm that was missing from most. Squeakyvoiced Helen Kane was the prototype and her hugely popular style inevitably
influenced other performers. There were for a time male equivalents although their
impact was less because they just didn’t fit in with the rugged image of men that most
American’s preferred. Even smoothies like Gene Austin and Rudy Vallee were suspect
in some quarters and accordingly deplored by moralists.
Another influence on late ‘twenties vocalising came from an unexpected
source- country music. This was the white equivalent of the blues and, like the blues,
in its undiluted form appealed to a minority audience. Indirectly it influenced musical
theatre and Tin Pan Alley, particularly when country singers came to prominence on
radio. Jimmie Rogers was one of the first to gain widespread popularity and had a
million-seller hit with a song called T for Texas in 1928. Two side effects were the
popularisation of yodelling and Hawaiian-style guitar playing.
When Ambrose was obliged to hire vocal talent in 1928 for recording and
broadcasting purposes he was not exactly spoilt for choice. There were no British
equivalents to Gene Austin or Rudy Vallee, and band vocalising lagged way behind
American performance standards. Moreover female vocalists don’t seem to have been
featured much on danceband records, although singers like Hettie King, Betty Bolton
and Elsie Carlisle occasionally took part in broadcasts by bands. Most vocal groups
tended to follow the standards set by Paul Whiteman. This was certainly the case with
the group that Ambrose used during 1928, called the Vocal Three. It seems unlikely
that they were formed by Ambrose or that they worked exclusively with his band. They
were probably an established cabaret act judging by their style.
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Ambrose also acquired the occasional services of a visiting American vocalist
called Les Reis around this time. Another American who made vocal contributions was
Eddie Grossbart, formerly Ambrose’s drummer at the Embassy Club. One thing’s for
sure, he was better at drumming than vocalising!
Apart from the addition of part-time vocalists there were also several important
instrumental and arranging changes that took place intermittently during 1928. Here’s
the line-up in September: AMBROSE & HIS MAY FAIR ORCHESTRA
Director:
Brass:
Reeds:
Rhythm:
Strings:
Vocals:
Arrangers:
Sylvester Ahola (trumpet)
Ted Heath (trombone)
Joe Crossman (alto/clarinet/ baritone)
Joe Jeanette (alto/clarinet/flute/+arranger)
Arthur Lally (tenor/clarinet/baritone/+arranger)
Bert Read (piano/+arranger)
Max Bacon (drums/xylophone/timpani)
Ernie Lewis (violin)… et al*
Eddie Grossbart
Les Reis*
The Vocal Three* (Phil Arnold, Eddie Brandt, Les Allen)
Lew Stone (co-ordinator)
Ronnie Munro
Van Phillips.
Ambrose continued to play violin along with the band while it was performing
at the May Fair or at private functions, but only rarely during recording sessions. At the
May Fair his contribution to each number usually consisted of playing the melody line
corresponding to the vocal part. In other words he used the same music as would a
vocalist and generally only covered one chorus…again just like a vocalist. The ‘lead
sheet’ that arrangers always prepared for Ambrose’s scrutiny (he rarely perused a
complete score) contained all that was required for his own effort. Because Ambrose
spent some time away from the bandstand a stand-in was required to take care of the
violin work during his absences. It was also necessary to give the impression that
someone actually was required to ‘lead from the front’ (although this was not really so
with a ten-piece danceband). Consequently, Ambrose took on a full-time violinist
named Ernie Lewis a classically-trained player who had switched from symphony
orchestra work into the danceband firmament some years earlier. Apart from
deputising for Ambrose at the May Fair, Ernie Lewis supervised the ad hoc string
section when it was brought into existence for recording sessions, broadcasts or stage
performances. He soon became an indispensable member of the Ambrose band and
remained in-post for almost fourteen years.
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Ambrose’s variable string section, when present, ranged from a couple of
violins to the traditional string quartet (two violins, viola and cello), and occasionally a
harp was added.
Henry Levine returned to America when his extended contract with Ambrose
expired early in 1928. He remained a top New York session musician for some years
then became a musical director with the NBC radio network. His immediate
replacement as lead trumpet player and leader of the brass section was Jules Berkin
(Ambrose’s first full-time trumpet player at the Embassy Club) but his tenure was
somewhat brief and by the summer of 1928 another American trumpeter – Sylvester
Ahola – had taken-over the section. Like Henry Levine, Sylvester Ahola was a player
much influenced by Red Nichols and in America had played in Nichols’ ad hoc bands.
He was also a great admirer of Louis Armstrong’s style and although favouring the
‘open’ approach to ‘hot’ solos was interested in the use of mutes – especially for
ensemble purposes. Prior to joining Ambrose he spent three months playing with
Reggie Batten’s Savoy Orpheans. He got on exceptionally well with the second
trumpet player Dennis Ratcliffe, recognised his talent and encouraged him to take-on a
fair proportion of ‘hot’ solos.
Also in the spring of 1928 trombonist Sam Acres departed. He had been
regarded in some quarters as rather a weak link in the brass section, but there was
nothing weak about his replacement - Ted Heath. By the time he joined Ambrose, Ted
was regarded as just about the best jazz trombonist in Britain. He was a Londoner who,
along with his brother Bert, learned to play a range of brass instruments while still a
child. Eventually Ted opted for the trombone and his brother the trumpet and both
played in amateur brass bands while still in their ‘teens. Around 1920 Ted gave-up his
job as a motor mechanic to become a professional musician, getting his first big chance
with Jack Hylton. Later he worked for Bert Firman and then Al Starita, as well as
undertaking a great deal of session work.
Jack Miranda left the reed section in mid-1928. His replacement was another
musician destined to devote many years of valuable service to the Ambrose band – Joe
Jeanette. Joe was born in Ireland and as a child learned to play the piano and clarinet.
During the First World War he joined the Royal Dublin Fusiliers and was posted to the
band school where he consolidated his clarinet playing and took up the flute. He
showed sufficient promise as a band musician to be selected for studies at the Royal
Military School of Music at Kneller Hall. After leaving the army Joe learned to play
the saxophone and undertook studies in theory and orchestration at the Royal Academy
of Music. Subsequently he worked his way round the world, playing mainly with
dancebands on passenger liners and also in India. By the mid-1920s he had settled in
London, working both as a session musician and freelance arranger. Apart from
playing the entire range of saxophones Joe remained proficient on clarinet and flute.
Indeed, on these two instruments he was highly regarded in classical circles and
throughout his career contributed to symphony and chamber orchestras on a freelance
basis. Although Joe Jeanette played rhythmically as part of the reed section ensemble,
he was not a jazz virtuoso and only rarely did he perform solo. However, Ambrose
made regular use of his orchestrating skills, and throughout the 1930s he was in charge
of Ambrose’s library of arrangements.
In the summer of 1928 Perley Breed returned to America supposedly for a short
vacation but in fact didn’t return. Consequently, in September Ambrose decided to
move Joe Crossman to first alto and leader of the reeds section.
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Apart from playing alto Joe doubled on clarinet and baritone on both of which
he shared ‘hot’ solos with the tenor player. For the tenor chair that Crossman vacated,
Ambrose hired a young man by the name of Arthur Lally. He was a native of
Liverpool, the son of a professional trumpet player and as a child learnt to play
trumpet, trombone, clarinet, piano and violin…all to professional standard! By the age
of fourteen he had become a full-time musician, playing in brass bands, symphony
orchestras, pit bands and cinemas. As a highly proficient multi-instrumentalist he was
never out of work. He also studied theory and later developed orchestrating skills. In
his spare time (!) he attended lectures in technical subjects at Liverpool University and
became something of an expert in automobile engineering and electronics. About a
year before the war ended he became eligible for call-up and opted to join the merchant
marine as an alternative to military service. After training as a radio officer he joined a
ship that was part of an Atlantic convoy and got torpedoed just a few months before
the Great War ended. Regrettably, Arthur Lally never fully recovered from this ‘near
death’ experience and for the rest of his too-brief life suffered from mental problems.
After discharge from the merchant marine he played trombone in a Liverpool
danceband and an interest in jazz later brought him to London. Apart from freelancing
as an arranger and playing regularly at Rectors jazz club he worked in bands at the
Hammersmith Palais, Hotel Cecil, Ciro’s Restaurant, Savoy Hotel and Café de Paris.
The band at the latter venue came under Ambrose’s control, so it was merely a case of
switching him to the May Fair. At the May Fair, Arthur mainly played tenor but also
soloed on baritone and clarinet when required. His arranging skills were also put to
good use but none of his earliest orchestrations seems to have been recorded.
American pianist-arranger Leo Khan left the May Fair band in the summer.
After a short spell at the Carlton Hotel he returned to New York where he worked for a
music publisher. So far as his replacement was concerned, Ambrose again ‘struck
gold’. Bert Read was only twenty when Ambrose invited him to join the May Fair
band. He grew-up in East London’s Manor Park area and started to learn the piano at
the age of six and golf one year later. By the time he entered the sixth-form of the local
grammar school Bert was a gifted amateur pianist but in deference to his father’s
wishes prepared for a university degree in science. Unfortunately for science, but not
music, he discovered jazz and before long was jamming at Moody’s Club. After
completing part-time studies in music theory he dropped-out of school and became a
professional musician. After fifteen months as relief pianist at the East Ham Palais-deDance he successfully auditioned for Vorzanger’s band at the Criterion Restaurant,
then joined Jack Payne’s band at the Hotel Cecil. It was during his next engagement, at
the Carlton, that Ambrose heard him play and invited him to join the May Fair band.
Bert Read was also a gifted arranger and in Ambrose’s band this skill was put to good
use.
Joe Brannelly, Max Bacon and Dick Escott comprised the rest of the regular
rhythm section as before, although now Max Bacon was obliged to vacate the drum kit
whenever the xylophone or other free-standing percussive instrument had to be played,
requiring the services of a second drummer (possibly Eddie Grossbart). As only one
timp was in occasional use at this time Max Bacon probably played it from the drum
stool.
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In the orchestration department there were also changes. Lew Stone remained
in overall control and Ronnie Munro and Van Phillips ‘on tap’. There were now four
new arrangers, three playing in the band. Fred Elizalde withdrew his services at the
start of 1928, having been appointed to a residency at the Savoy Hotel and for which
he formed a highly acclaimed band, mainly comprising top American jazzmen. A little
later Ray Noble was obliged to withdraw from the arranging team after being
appointed staff orchestrator with Jack Payne’s new BBC Dance Orchestra. However,
before taking up this post Ray undertook one final task for Ambrose: arranging for,
and directing, a temporary recording unit called the ‘Whispering Orchestra’. This was
actually the May Fair band and its purpose was to provide backing for four recordings
by popular American baritone Whispering Jack Smith who was touring Britain at the
time. These recordings were organised by HMV and came between Ambrose’s regular
recording sessions.
American musical director/orchestrator Van Phillips, like Ronnie Munro, was
leading his own broadcasting/recording band during his short tenure on Ambrose’s
arranging team, and like Fred Elizalde he had many advanced ideas when it came to
arranging for dancebands. In general, the best arrangers working in Britain at this time
were equal to their counterparts across the Atlantic. Even allowing for the fact that
some of the top arrangers and musicians were Americans, the danceband scene in
Britain in the late 1920s was a credit to the dedication and enthusiasm of those
associated with it. Ambrose’s ambition to join the ranks of the top British bandleaders
was not to be achieved easily, but he was certainly travelling in the right direction as he
approached his next big opportunity.
In the spring of 1928 Ambrose made his first broadcast from the May Fair
Hotel. Landlines connected the hotel to the two national transmitters - London and
Daventry. The installation had been paid for by the hotel along with the leasing of the
landlines from the General Post Office (GPO). It had taken almost a year for the hotel
management to negotiate suitable broadcasting arrangements with the authority
concerned which was, of course, the BBC. Because radio would play such an
important part in Ambrose’s career we must take a closer look at this institution as it
was in the 1920s.
Early in 1922 the GPO issued licences for radio transmitters in London,
Birmingham and Manchester - different companies being involved in each enterprise.
The London transmitter belonged to the Marconi Company and had the call sign
‘2LO’. Later the same year the government persuaded the separate broadcasting
companies to form a consortium so as to avoid conflict over the allocation of
broadcasting frequencies. The result was the British Broadcasting Company. (In 1926
the BBC became a public corporation.) By 1923 five more transmitters had been
established and most parts of the British Isles could receive broadcasts. Moreover a
dedicated landline network linked these regional transmitters. Each transmitter was
associated with a studio although not necessarily at the same location. By 1924 the
London transmitter had been moved from Marconi House to the roof of Selfridge’s
department store in Oxford Street, and by this time the studio and administrative
headquarters of the BBC had been established in a building in Savoy Hill, adjacent to
the Savoy Hotel. There were seven studios at Savoy Hill, the largest of which could
accommodate a medium-sized orchestra.
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Importantly, the landline network enabled a degree of flexibility to be
introduced so far as programme transmissions were concerned. From the various
transmitters both national and regional programmes could be broadcast. Electrical
companies like Marconi and Western Electric had become interested in experimental
broadcasting, of course, to enhance the sale of their equipment – receivers as well as
transmitters. The market for receivers was potentially huge, given the millions of
households in Britain. However the government was determined to avoid the American
experience in which a mass market for radio developed very rapidly after the early
1920s. This had been fuelled by the increasing ‘commercialisation’ of radio in the
United States, initially encouraged as a means of providing ‘free’ broadcasts. It wasn’t
so much that the British Establishment considered commercial radio necessarily vulgar
but rather the difficulty that they might have in indirectly controlling what was
broadcast. So in Britain a licence fee, payable by every household using a receiver,
financed the service ‘in the public interest’. And of course when the BBC became a
corporation the last direct links with commercial interests were severed. Of course
government influence was kept at arms length, but the amount of independence
enjoyed by the BBC was more apparent than real. The BBC Board of Governors
comprised solid Establishment figures and the first Director-General – Sir John Reith –
undoubtedly shared their outlook.
The annual license fee was set at ten shillings [about £20 now] – not an
excessive amount by the standards of today, but the cost of a radio receiver was.
Around 80% of wage earners had an income that averaged £2 a week and the cost of a
new radio receiver represented several weeks’ wages. For most working class
households the pleasure of ‘listening in’ had to be postponed until second-hand sets
started to appear in junk shops, or the cost of receivers dropped as production methods
improved. In the late 1920s the listening audience was essentially ‘middle class’, and it
has to be emphasised that this term had a more precise meaning then than it does now,
and likewise with the term ‘working class’. At this time, then, the BBC was catering
almost exclusively for a well-educated and culturally refined clientele. And despite the
regional variations previously mentioned, it was an essentially London-based cultural
elite that dominated broadcasting. From a middle class perspective what the BBC
provided was outstanding for the time, but essentially High Brow with just a little light
entertainment thrown in for good measure. And it’s this little bit that concerns us
because it included a fair amount of dance music, some of which was jazz-oriented.
It was probably the proximity of the BBC headquarters to the Savoy Hotel that
led to some outside broadcasting experiments involving the hotel’s band being
undertaken in the early 1920s. These were successful and subsequently regular outside
broadcasts from the Savoy and similar venues in London became standard late-night
fare. At first these broadcasts took place after the official ‘close-down’, at 10.30pm but
by 1927 this had been extended to midnight (occasionally later) and late-night dance
music was part of the normal schedules six days a week (note: never on Sundays). As
regional programmes were not usually broadcast late at night it was the two national
transmitters that broadcast late night dance music. These national transmitters were in
London (2LO) and Daventry (5XX). There was also an additional transmitter called
Daventry Experimental (5GB) that sometimes participated. Late night dance music was
usually broadcast from both London and Daventry transmitters, each being connected
to the various venues by land lines, but there were occasions when this was not the
case.
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Only a select number of hotels, nightclubs and restaurants were permanently
‘wired-up’ for the broadcasts, which started at variable times after 10.30pm, and
usually finished at midnight. Here are some examples of regular broadcasting venues
in the late 1920s: - Savoy Hotel, Kit-Cat Restaurant, Ciro’s Club, Carlton Hotel, New
Prince’s Restaurant, Café de Paris, Hotel Cecil, Piccadilly Hotel, Ambassador’s Club
and, from a year after it’s opening, the May Fair Hotel.
The Savoy Hotel was the only venue to have a permanent weekly late-night
time-slot, and it was the best available – Saturday night. Thursday night was also
generally allocated to the Savoy. There were three bands at the Savoy in 1928 – the
Savoy Orpheans, Fred Elizalde & His Savoy Music and a tango band. The Orpheans
were essentially what the Americans called a ‘sweet’ band while Elizalde’s outfit was,
of course, jazz-oriented. Indeed, it may well have been the case that what Elizalde
played was the closest to New York-style jazz that had ever been broadcast over BBC
airwaves. And it was an instant success; the BBC knew this because people wrote in
and said so – in substantial numbers. Consequently, the other Savoy bands were
excluded and Elizalde had the airwaves to himself for around three hours a week.
The late-night slot was not the only time that dancebands could be heard on the
radio in the late 1920s. Variety programmes sometimes featured popular dance bands
and a regular one-hour late afternoon slot called ‘DANCING TIME’ was allocated to
the London Radio Danceband directed by Sid Firman. This was not really a BBC
house band but one that was contracted to broadcast dance music from a studio at
Savoy Hill rather than an outside location. In the spring of 1928 the BBC did in fact
form its own house band – the BBC Dance Orchestra – under the direction of Jack
Payne, who for some years had broadcast regularly from the Hotel Cecil. Bearing in
mind that there was only one national programme, with minimal regional variations,
being transmitted, dance music was well represented in overall light-entertainment
output.
One thing does stand out – whatever BBC listeners may have thought about
dance music, they came overwhelmingly from the middle class. In this respect the
British and American experiences were different in the late 1920s. In America the first
regularly operated radio station started-up in 1920. Owned by electrical equipment
manufacturer Westinghouse and licensed as KDKA, its output was almost entirely
popular music and light entertainment. Two years later there were 524 local stations
licensed to broadcast, and with a few notable exceptions providing similar output to
KDKA. At this time, as in Britain, radio programmes could only be received through
headphones on crystal sets, but electronics technology was progressing rapidly and by
the mid-1920s primitive receivers incorporating loudspeakers had arrived. From the
start of broadcasting in America the free market philosophy predominated, except for
the allocation of frequencies, which the government controlled. In 1922 the first
‘commercial’ was broadcast and from this time on advertising became the principal
means of financing American radio. A degree of government influence over
broadcasting policy came in 1927 when a Radio Act was passed, and national networks
were established. The National Broadcasting Company (NBC) ran two of these
networks, and the Columbia Broadcasting System (CBS) a third. Later a fourth – the
Mutual Network – was added. Some local stations were independent; others were
either owned by one or other of the networks or contractually affiliated. By the end of
the 1920s America boasted thirteen million radio sets in use in just over forty percent
of households.
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The big business interests that dominated the American networks were not
overly moronic in their approach to what was broadcast, despite the fact that popular
entertainment rather than high culture dominated the airwaves. Companies like
Firestone and Bell Telephones eventually sponsored programmes devoted to classical
music and such luminaries as Toscanini and Leopold Stokowski from the world of
classical music presided over symphony orchestras permanently maintained by the
networks. However, to a much greater extent than in Britain dance orchestras were
included in daytime and early evening scheduling. Even quite small radio stations hired
local dancebands and most of the big-name bands broadcast regularly on network
radio. One similarity with the British experience was the so-called ‘remote’
broadcasting of late night dance music from hotels, clubs and ballrooms across the
country, although unlike in Britain different time zones had to be catered for (no easy
task at a time when all broadcasting was ‘live’).
Ambrose’s first scheduled broadcast from the May Fair went out on Tuesday
20th March 1928 from 11pm to midnight. For the rest of that year they continued at odd
intervals and on various nights of the week - about fifteen programmes in all. In some
cases they were only transmitted from Daventry, but usually both national transmitters
were used. Unfortunately, the first few broadcasts were dogged by technical difficulties
and parts of some programmes from the May Fair went through Daventry
Experimental while the BBC engineers sorted things out. Improvements had been
achieved by mid-summer and from then on the May Fair band was allocated two or
three programmes a month until the end of the year. Most programmes ran from 11pm
to midnight with a few starting at 10.30pm.
Titles of tunes played on these early broadcasts are available but no other
details. However, Ambrose certainly included vocals for the benefit of radio listeners.
Much of what Ambrose broadcast included the latest hit songs. In 1928 a bumper crop
was available, including: - A Precious Little Thing Called Love, Button Up Your
Overcoat, Crazy Rhythm, Dance Little Lady, Doin’ The New Low-down, I Can’t Give
You Anything But Love, I’ll Get By, I Surrender Dear, I Wanna Be Loved By You, Lets
Do It, Love Me Or Leave Me, Lover Come Back, Makin’ Whoopee, The Mouche, She’s
Funny That Way, Shortnin’ Bread, Sonny Boy, Sweet Lorraine, Sweet Sue, When
You’re Smiling, You’re The Cream In My Coffee.
By 1928 the Blues Craze was petering out so far as the pop music was
concerned, and only two blues-influenced hits emerged that year – Washboard Blues
and Yellow Dog Blues. There was a brief revival of interest in early jazz-pop and The
Original Dixieland One-step became a minor hit ten years after its original success.
Although major American dancebands helped to popularise these songs it was a
handful of solo vocalists – essentially ‘song stylists’ – who clocked-up the greatest
record sales, including: - Al Jolson, Gene Austin, Bing Crosby, Rudy Vallee, Ruth
Etting, Ethel Waters, Alberta Hunter and Paul Robeson. Danceband vocalists in
general, and Eddie Grossbart in particular, clearly had a lot to live up to.
So far as dance steps were concerned the foxtrot (quick and slow versions)
remained supreme. There was something of a revival of interest in the waltz and onestep, and one new dance in particular, the Baltimore (based on the tango, but with
simpler steps), became very popular. The Charleston was petering-out but still in
demand and the same could be said for the Slow Blues, Drag and Black Bottom.
Generally, there was a trend towards smoother, less frantic dance music and a feint hint
that the Jazz Age was giving way to something different.
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In November 1928 Ambrose returned to the Brunswick studio for a single
session at which the following four titles were recorded: Roll Away Clouds, S’Wonderful, Somewhere, Song Of The Sea.
Because Ambrose was still under contract to HMV he was not credited on the
record labels, which merely refer to ‘The May Fair Orchestra’. By this time Ambrose’s
HMV output had also been issued, so with the Brunswick releases of the previous year
still available this made a grand total of ten records cut by the May Fair band over
eighteen months. Although many of these early Ambrose titles had outstanding jazzinspired solos and superb ensemble playing by both brass and reed sections they made
little impression on the record-buying public.
Although Ambrose’s lack of broadcasting and recording success only partially
detracted from his prestige as resident bandleader at the May Fair, towards the end of
1928 rumours started to circulate that he was about to give up personal direction of the
orchestra in order to concentrate on the development of his band agency. Before
dismissing this as improbable it has to borne in mind that Ambrose had two distinct
contracts with Gordon Hotels. The first required him to supply bands for the group as
and when required for three years – the second, to personally direct the band at the
May Fair for one year. Apart from Gordon Hotels, Ambrose had other clients who
owned clubs, restaurants or dance halls and didn’t want to hire the required musical
talent directly. He also continued to provide bands for private society functions – the
appendage BAND SUPPLIED BY AMBROSE on an invitation to a ball was the next
best thing to having the maestro attend in person (and for that to happen a hefty
additional fee was required). Of course all this work required a considerable amount of
administrative effort and Ambrose had offices and a staff at Gloucester House in the
Charing Cross Road. Operating under the title AMBROSE ORCHESTRAS, this highly
lucrative set-up was wholly owned and run by Ambrose. (Eventually its turnover
became so big that he formed it into a private limited company and employed a
business manager to run it.)
In fact Ambrose did take-up the option of renewing his yearly May Fair
contract in 1929 and the same year was also the turning point in his personal, rather
than purely business, success. What triggered this was a Tuesday late-night radio slot
in the last week of December 1928 that had been routinely allocated to the May Fair.
Coincidently, this happened to be Christmas Day. Now the May Fair was not open to
outside trade on Christmas Day and the special party for regular guests was being held
in the main restaurant and not the ballroom. This meant that Ambrose had exclusive
use of the ballroom and could use it more like a studio. And this is precisely what he
did, hiring guest artists, using special arrangements and an augmented orchestra…even
bringing in a small choir. Apart from the fact that Lew Stone alternated between
celesta and tubular bells in the augmented band and that matinee idol Jack Buchanan
made a guest appearance no details concerning this broadcast have come to light, but
considering that the BBC contributed nothing towards it in financial terms we can
assume that Ambrose bore the full cost. However, it was a smart move – the listening
audience was estimated to be around fifteen million, a goodly proportion being
members of the ‘younger generation’ enjoying the rare privilege of staying up late.
Due to a single broadcast Ambrose had been propelled to national prominence. This
success did not go unnoticed by the upper echelons of the BBC, nor probably the fact
that it was essentially self-financing!
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From the first week of 1929 Ambrose broadcast at fortnightly intervals until the
first week of March when one of the most significant events in his career occurred – he
was given the most prestigious radio slot then available for dancebands, 10.30pm to
12.00pm every Saturday night. Until then, this slot had always been allocated to the
Savoy Hotel, latterly being filled exclusively by Fred Elizalde’s band. However
Elizalde’s ninety minutes of undiluted jazz was just about sixty minutes too much for
the BBC. Ambrose had something quite different in mind, of which the BBC was no
doubt well aware.
Ambrose’s Saturday night radio shows were destined to become the most
highly acclaimed danceband-based broadcasts in Britain. This came about essentially
because Ambrose treated his programmes as something more than a mere succession
of dance tunes. Of course the dancing aspect had to remain predominant. Apart from
the fact that many people relied on these late night transmissions for dancing in their
own homes, the customers at the May Fair couldn’t be completely ignored. What
Ambrose skilfully achieved was a feeling among listeners that they were being given
something special, that they mattered just as much as the hotel’s clientele. This meant
that the ‘continuity’ aspect – the role of the MC/announcer – was an important
ingredient. So far as the music was concerned Ambrose augmented the regular May
Fair band with additional musicians and a vocal group, and occasional guest vocalists
including well-known variety and musical theatre artists. Sometimes a notable
instrumental soloist had a guest spot, such as a flamenco guitar player or a famous
pianist. None of this came cheap and Ambrose was obliged to bear the entire cost of
the extra effort himself. At this stage in its history the BBC was not inclined to pay
dancebands for outside broadcasts and if Ambrose wanted to excel himself beyond
what was strictly necessary then so much the better.
If British radio audiences in the late 1920s were essentially middle class, then
the same can be said about record buyers. The large companies like Columbia and
HMV had vast catalogues comprising mainly classical music, although much of this
was on the ‘lighter’ side of the musical spectrum. Some of the recordings on offer
dated back to well before the introduction of electrical recording techniques including
some pre-war favourites. These were usually by famous artists like Caruso and Dame
Nellie Melba - perennial best sellers. Dance music accounted for a relatively small
proportion of the catalogue although some bandleaders clocked-up relatively high sales
– particularly Jack Hylton. The true relationship between record sales and radio output
was still an unknown quantity in the late 1920s. In general, radio transmissions relied
on live performances, in a studio or by means of outside broadcasts. Programmes could
not feasibly be pre-recorded. Until around 1927 there had been no way of playing
records on the radio other than to position a microphone adjacent to an acoustic
gramophone’s horn. An American invention – the electrical pick-up – improved
matters greatly. This was an electrical device (originally intended for domestic use)
that connected the sound box of an acoustic gramophone to the transmission equipment
(or radio receiver in the case of domestic users). American radio networks soon
perfected their own versions and from this time on it became feasible to play records
directly over the airwaves.
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Record companies may have had their doubts about the relationship between
the playing of records on radio and record sales at retail outlets, but none at all when it
came to their artists performing live on radio, due to the celebrity status that this
invariably guaranteed. Likewise music publishers were more than happy to have their
songs performed on radio. The performance royalties (paid only in Britain) were of
little consequence, what mattered was the boost in sales of sheet music whenever a
song was performed on the radio.
Ambrose completed his contractual obligations to HMV with two recording
sessions in January 1929. The four titles cut were: If I Had You, That’s Her Now, The Whole World Knows I Love You, Me And
The Man In The Moon, (all arranged by Lew Stone).
By the time these sessions took place Ambrose had already signed-up with another
record company. Clearly, his time with HMV had been as problematical as that with
Brunswick, though what the problems actually were in either case is not at all clear.
The break with HMV was the more serious of the two because this company was a big
name in the record world, and had access to an international market (including
America), at least for its top artists. The initials ‘HMV’ referred to the world-famous
trademark under which both records and record players were marketed – the industrial
concern that owned this trademark was the Gramophone Company. It had been
founded around the turn of the century and by 1907 had become so successful that a
large factory was opened at Hayes in Middlesex where both gramophones and records
were produced. The main recording studios were in Islington although some recording
also took place at Hayes. So far as HMV records were concerned a colour code was
applied to the labels that indicated their retail cost (which was strictly controlled), and
by implication their relative importance in the scheme of things. This meant that there
was a ‘pecking order’ among HMV’s recording artists according to which colour label
their output was assigned to. The quantity and range of HMV’s recorded output in the
late 1920s was enormous, as a perusal of any HMV catalogue of the time will confirm.
It is also quite clear that dance music, together with anything that might resemble jazz,
accounted for a relatively small amount of HMV’s total output. Jack Hylton’s was the
most prominent British band on offer, and recordings by American bandleaders were
made available, including Paul Whiteman, Gus Arnheim, Leo Reisman, and Fred
Waring. Some of Rudy Vallee’s output was also included. At the retail end HMV
directly supplied ‘approved’ dealers in particular areas, although it opened its own
store in London’s Oxford Street specifically for the upper class trade. In its large
sumptuously furnished rooms, knowledgeable assistants would wait on elite customers
who sometimes spent hours playing and selecting records.
To rival HMV in the British market there were around ten other companies in
the late 1920s. But the only serious rival was Columbia – the company that Ambrose
had briefly recorded for in 1923. Thomas Edison had founded the American parent
company and its British offshoot was established around the turn of the century.
Columbia’s offices and studios were in Clerkenwell and the records were
manufactured at a factory in Wandsworth. Unlike HMV, Columbia supplied about a
dozen wholesalers throughout the country who in turn supplied local retail outlets.
Another difference was the way the records were manufactured – HMV used a disc of
pure shellac whereas Columbia had a thicker laminated disc with only a thin layer of
shellac on each side. There were probably other differences in the way records were
produced, particularly concerning the recording process.
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This was a time of rapid technical progress and both companies had
outstanding research departments, and in Columbia’s case the services of a scientific
genius called Isaac Shoenberg. So far as American recording artists were concerned
Columbia in Britain had direct access to American Columbia’s catalogue and took full
advantage of the fact.
Had Ambrose left HMV to join Columbia no one would have been surprised.
There had clearly been a degree of mutual dissatisfaction over the previous twelve
months, though exactly what went wrong remains unclear. Even so Ambrose’s next
move in his initially unsettled recording career was surprising – he signed-up with a
company that was completely new in the record producing business – Decca. Exactly
how this came about is not known but it seems likely that Decca’s dynamic boss Sir
Edward Lewis approached Ambrose towards the end of 1928 and offered him a oneyear contract. The fact that Ambrose accepted this offer suggests that it was a
particularly good one from a financial point of view and it seems likely that he was
promised a much greater role in choosing what could be recorded than would have
applied at HMV or Columbia. On the other hand Decca had no experience in the
recording industry and apart from the two giants – HMV and Columbia – would have
to compete with ten or so lesser concerns, all of which had a great deal of experience.
However, something that Decca did have at the time was a proven track record in
equipment manufacture and marketing. Lewis, a stock-broker by profession, had builtup what had been a small family business only ten years earlier into a major British
company - and one, moreover, in a position to attract adequate investment funds. So far
as recording industry expertise was concerned Lewis was in a position to hire exactly
what he wanted. Luring top-flight artists away from established companies would be
another matter, although early-on Lewis struck a deal with the American Record
Company (ARC) to include some of their talent in Decca’s catalogue, Bing Crosby
being an example.
Although Decca had a factory in South West London that could be expanded to
cater for the manufacture and distribution of records, the initial recording efforts were
undertaken in temporary premises, including the Chinel Galleries in Chelsea and
Battersea Town Hall. And it was at the first of these rather odd locations that Ambrose
took his May Fair band for its first Decca recording session in the first week of
February 1929. This was the start-up week for Decca recordings so the fact that the
two titles that Ambrose cut proved to be technically unsatisfactory was understandable.
Ambrose returned to the recording studio during April and at four sessions that month
attempts were made to record ten titles, all to no avail. The reasons for these rejections
were of a technical nature and no reflection on the band. Other artists that Decca
signed-up in the early days had similar problems. The Decca Record Company’s
managing director John Balfour, who appears to have been in no hurry to inaugurate
Decca’s first record catalouge, supervised these initial recording sessions.
Success at last came in May and June when eight titles were satisfactorily
recorded over three sessions. No time was lost in releasing the titles on four records,
which were included in the first issue of the Decca catalogue. They were released on
Decca’s 10-inch Magenta (‘M’) label and retailed at three shillings [about £1-20p now]
supposedly reflecting the company’s slogan LEADING ARTISTS – LOWER PRICES.
Yes, but still too high for the mass market and they didn’t sell at all well. Apart from
price, the record manufacturing process at Decca’s factory remained flawed for many
months and some of Ambrose’s output reflected this.
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Here, then, are Ambrose’s first Decca releases: Mean To Me, Do Something, You’re The Cream In My Coffee, Don’t Hold
Everything, A Precious Little Thing Called Love, Sugar Is Back, Walking With
Susie, The Wedding Of The Painted Doll.
Although it can’t be claimed that the standard of recording compared favourably
with that of HMV around this time, the standard of playing by the Ambrose band was
superb.
Some important changes took place in the May Fair band during 1929. Here’s
the line-up for September, by which time stability had once again been achieved: AMBROSE & HIS MAY FAIR ORCHESTRA
Director:
Brass:
Reeds:
Rhythm:
Strings:
Vocals:
Arrangers:
Joe Crossman (alto/clarinet/ /tenor)
Danny Polo (alto/clarinet/baritone)
Joe Jeanette (tenor/clarinet/flute/+arranger)
Arthur Lally (baritone)*
Max Bacon (drums/xylophone/vibraphone/timpani)
Ernie Lewis (violin)… et al*
Lou Aberlardo
Phil Arnold*
Betty Bolton*
Arthur Lally, Ronnie Munro, Van Phillips
Only the brass section remained entirely unaltered. The guitar and string bass
now had pride of place on some new arrangements. Note that the vibraphone had been
added to Max Bacon’s array of percussion instruments – an unknown substitute being
required when he played this or the other freestanding instruments after the departure
of Eddie Grossbart. On leaving Ambrose (at the May Fair he had only been a parttimer) he changed his name to Gross-Bart and continued to work as a session drummer
and occasional crooner, eventually forming his own band for club engagements. His
successor was Lou Aberlardo, an American pianist and crooner temporarily working in
London. Although marginally better that Grossbart he was way behind fellow
American Phil Arnold who occasionally contributed to Ambrose’s early Decca
recording sessions. For broadcasts only, a female vocalist called Betty Bolton was
occasionally brought in – and possibly others. Also Ambrose regularly included an
established vocal group (not the Vocal Three) for broadcasts, but no personnel details
have so far come to light.
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The most significant changes in Ambrose’s 1929 band took place in the reeds
section. In May he asked Arthur Lally to front a band at the Café de Paris (a move that
will be discussed in detail later) and obtained the services of American jazz clarinettist
and sax player Danny Polo. He was nominally second alto player but provided most
‘hot’ clarinet and baritone solos. Joe Jeanette was switched to tenor but Joe Crossman
provided the tenor ‘hot’ solos. Arthur Lally joined the team of part time arrangers but
occasionally played baritone at recording sessions.
Danny Polo had first come to prominence in 1923 when he joined the reed
section of Elmer Schoebell’s Midway Gardens Orchestra in Chicago and played
alongside Benny Goodman. In 1926 he joined Jean Goldkette’s band in Detroit and
also recorded with small groups in New York that usually included Bix Beiderbecke,
Jimmy Dorsey, Frankie Trumbaur, Eddie Lang and Joe Venuti. Other ad hoc groups
that Polo recorded with at this time kept the flag flying for the more exuberant
Chicago-style jazz and usually included Gene Krupa, Joe Sullivan, Eddie Condon and
Mezz Mezzrow. Polo’s incisive yet fluid Chicago-style clarinet playing was widely
appreciated in jazz circles and almost every top player at one time or another expressed
their admiration. He was also a fine all-round sax player and competent on flute. So far
as Danny Polo’s colleagues in Ambrose’s reed section were concerned, only Joe
Crossman was able to outplay him and only on alto (the numerous cutting contests
between these two in London jazz clubs became legendary). Along with drummer
Dave Tough, Polo left New York in 1928 to try his luck in Europe. After some months
working in Berlin he arrived in Paris where Ambrose spotted him playing in a night
club and persuaded him to join the reorganised band. Ambrose was able to pull the
necessary strings to get him a work permit and no doubt the offer was just too good to
refuse from a financial point of view.
Arthur Lally’s new assignment was to lead the band at the Café de Paris a
prestigious West End nightspot that came within Ambrose’s sphere of operations.
Although Ambrose formed and controlled the band he put Arthur in day-to-day charge.
Here’s the line-up: AMBROSE’S BLUE LYRES
Brass:
Reeds:
Rhythm:
Max Goldberg (trumpet)
Tony Thorpe (trombone)
Arthur Lally (alto/clarinet/baritone/+leader/+arranger)
Peter Rush (alto/clarinet/+violin/+arranger)
Rex Owen (tenor/clarinet)
Harry Howard (piano)
Bert Hadley (guitar)
George Senior (string bass)
Maurice Zaffer (drums)
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Max Goldberg was a highly significant inclusion – one of the finest trumpet
players then working in Britain. He was a Canadian who had grown-up in Toronto and
learned to play trumpet and French horn while still at school. Although he initially
intended to take a science degree, success at local gigs as a semi-pro player led to a
permanent switch to music as a career. In the early 1920s he spent a short time in New
York and then came to London. After playing at various venues in London and the
provinces he was spotted while playing at Moody’s Jazz Club by Jack Payne who
brought him into the Hotel Cecil band. He then joined the Savoy Havana Band and
later played lead trumpet in Jack Hylton’s Kit Cat band. Apart from being a fine lead
trumpet player, Goldberg was one of the very few danceband brass players in Britain to
feature the mellophone. This was a derivative of the French horn, though somewhat
easier to play. Its most prominent exponent in jazz at the time was the American,
Dudley Fosdick.
Like Max Goldberg, Tony Thorpe would eventually become a long-serving
member of Ambrose’s band. Little is known of his background, but like most modern
jazz trombonists at the time he was clearly influenced by Miff Mole. Peter Rush was
an all-round reed player as well as a superb ‘hot’ fiddler, but like his tenor-playing
colleague Rex Owen seems to have been a relative newcomer so far as major
danceband work was concerned. Of the others, only Bert Hadley (guitar) and Maurice
Zaffer (drums) became long-term Ambrose musicians.
The Blue Lyres started to broadcast from the Café de Paris soon after they
arrived there. Ambrose also lost no time in arranging a number of live stage
appearances in the London area. This became possible when he brought over Jimmy
Caruso & His New York Syncopators for a two-month engagement at the Café de
Paris. Although no secret was made of the fact that the Blue Lyres were an Ambrose
outfit, he never fronted the band in public and Arthur Lally was given a considerable
degree of freedom as its de facto leader. In addition to joining the arranging team for
the May Fair band, he supervised the orchestrations for the Blue Lyres as well as
undertaking a certain amount of session work, particularly with small recording
groups.
The arrival of the Blue Lyres at the Café de Paris caused something of a
sensation and led to a dramatic revival in trade at the venue. Ambrose adopted a new
approach to the new band’s dress code. At the May Fair the band wore black dinner
jackets, dress trousers, wing collars and black bow ties (with Ambrose dressed in
identical fashion – not in tails). The Blue Lyres wore white flannels, striped blazers,
white shirts with soft collars and coloured ties. This caused some consternation among
society gossip columnists, one even commented: ‘The new band at the Café de Paris
plays rather well but looks out of place and rather cheap in their boiled shirts and
tennis shoes’ Boiled shirts aside, the Blue Lyres certainly didn’t come cheap! And
while on the subject of the Blue Lyres it’s worth pointing out that Ambrose started to
use this title for a recording band comprising ‘hot’ players selected from the May Fair
and Café de Paris bands. This recording outfit cut titles with a greater jazz content than
would have been possible for a commercial danceband.
Another major venue – Verry’s Restaurant in Regent Street – also had a band
directly controlled by Ambrose. Violinist Jean Pougnet led this unit but no details of its
line-up have come to light. Ambrose also supplied the band that played at a large
ballroom attached to the Olympia Exhibition Hall – newly opened in 1929. Other
bands for London nightspots were supplied by Ambrose’s agency but not directly
controlled by him. In other words the work was sub-contracted.
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This was also the case with most of the small groups that Ambrose supplied for
high-class private functions, which were generally one-night stands – or gigs. To say,
as above, that these bands were ‘supplied by Ambrose’ is not strictly correct because
he was no longer the ‘sole proprietor’ of the organisation that did the supplying. As his
business interests grew it became necessary for Ambrose to protect his personal wealth
should anything go wrong on the financial side. By the late 1920s Ambrose’s
endeavours (excluding recording contracts) enjoyed a turnover of around £50,000 a
year [about £2,000,000 now], and rising. The only way to obtain the necessary
protection was to transform his organisation into a private company and so it became
AMBROSE ORCHESTRAS LIMITED. The disadvantage was that Ambrose now had
to comply with the requirements of the Companies Act and although less onerous then
than in later years, still required a degree of formality, particularly over such things as
bookkeeping and the involvement of fellow directors. The point about not including
royalties from recording contracts is absolutely crucial – these were always between
Ambrose as a person and the record companies concerned. The bulk of Ambrose’s
later enormous earnings came about not from the fees he extracted from Ambrose
Orchestras Ltd. but from his earnings as a recording artist. As the latter grew in the
early 1930s the amount Ambrose obtained from the company diminished – indeed
there were times when he was obliged to subsidise the company out of other earnings
just to keep it from going under. However in the late 1920s it was a lucrative business
and certainly provided the means for Ambrose to live in the manner to which he had
become well and truly accustomed – which was very well indeed!
Until 1929 Ambrose managed his organisational affairs somewhat casually.
With the formation of the company this was no longer satisfactory and so he hired a
manager to take care of the business side of things. Just as Ambrose was exceptionally
lucky in having the services of Joe Brannelly as band manager, so it proved to be with
administrative matters. His new business manager K.P. Hunt had a first class honours
degree in electrical engineering from London University. During the war he had
trained as a wireless operator and seen active service with the Royal Flying Corps.
After the war he studied electrical methods of sound reproduction in the United States.
As well as technical matters he became interested in modern management techniques,
advertising and public relations. He was a gifted amateur pianist and had a remarkable
knowledge of music. This was put to good use professionally because he was a prolific
writer on musical matters. After giving-up full time technical work in the mid-1920s he
worked for various show business interests and then became Jack Hylton’s press
officer for a time. Ambrose gave K.P. Hunt almost total control of his business affairs
and complete control of the office at Gloucester House. He turned out to be a brilliant
administrator and the organisational system he set-up was the last word in efficiency
and proved to be of lasting value.
In July 1929 Ambrose recorded fourteen titles for Decca, some of which were
released the following month and the remainder in the autumn. It was during the course
of these sessions that Lou Aberlardo took-over vocal duties from Eddie Gross-Bart.
Near the end of July the weekly broadcasts were temporarily halted while Ambrose
took an extended leave of absence to visit America. The band at the May Fair
continued to function with Ernie Lewis deputising for Ambrose. The boys in the band
were given their annual two-week vacations at staggered intervals over the summer,
substitutes being hired as required.
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During August, High Society departed to the country or abroad and it wasn’t
quite the done thing to remain ‘in town’, although of course some did. The May Fair
was popular with foreign tourists (particularly Americans) but even so the month of
August was somewhat quieter than usual. However, ‘outside trade’ remained brisk and
the ballroom-cum-restaurant stayed open for business.
Ambrose’s American trip was part vacation, part business. Combining business
with pleasure was something of an Ambrose speciality. At this time the sea trip took
around five days and as a first class passenger with the White Star Line, Ambrose’s
journey would have been very pleasant indeed. Nor was the Whitehall Hotel on
Broadway – where Ambrose invariably stayed when in New York – any less
pleasurable than the May Fair, being the American equivalent of a British five-star
hotel, and a favourite haunt for visiting show business celebrities.
Although the year was the fateful one of 1929 the event that would bring the
Roaring Twenties prematurely to an end – the Wall Street crash – had not yet occurred
when Ambrose mingled with (mainly) unsuspecting New Yorkers going about their
business in the summer heat. The business that interested Ambrose was show business,
particularly those aspects of it that were likely to affect the development of his various
enterprises in Britain.
So far as the New York jazz scene was concerned Ambrose was certainly spoilt
for choice. King Oliver, Jelly Roll Morton, Louis Armstrong and Fats Waller were all
appearing at leading venues within the same few blocks, and numerous white jazz
bands were finding useful employment in high class down town establishments. And
yet all was not well with jazz in its pure forms. King Oliver, Jelly Roll Morton and the
Chicago-style white players were facing challenges from the emerging big band style
that they seemed unable to meet, despite having pioneered some of the basic musical
innovations that the new style incorporated. After 1929 the kind of jazz they stood for
dwindled in popularity and only a dedicated minority of players and aficionados kept it
going. Both Oliver and Morton attempted to adapt to the big band idiom, but without
success. Louis Armstrong and Fats Waller did so by skewing their output towards
popular entertainment, and essentially without losing their jazz credentials. These
things merely reflected a discernable trend in popular music in the late 1920s – a trend
that had something to do with the need for more sophistication in musical styles than
could be provided by jazz and blues in their pure forms. The jazz-influenced
danceband – or big band – could provide this sophistication in degrees ranging from
‘sweet’ to ‘hot’, with a few ancillaries, like Latin American rhythms, thrown in for
good measure. Like Louis Armstrong and Fats Waller they were able to give the public
what the public wanted – and the best of them without diverging completely from the
jazz idiom (although purists might disagree).
In terms of commercial success the band that dominated New York, indeed the
whole of America, in the late 1920s remained the one led by Paul Whiteman.
Whiteman was not entirely happy with the trend away from jazz – after all it was
supposed to be his ‘sovereign’ territory! This fact is important because Whiteman
wielded enormous power in the American music industry at the time. His recorded
output was enjoying huge sales and he broadcast four major band shows every week
over network radio. He resisted the move towards overtly ‘sweet’ dance music by
enhancing his orchestra with some of the finest jazz soloists available.
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In the late 1920s these included: Bix Beiderbeck, Eddie Lang, Jimmy Dorsey,
and Tommy Dorsey. Whiteman also featured one of the best white jazz and blues
singers to emerge in America at this time – Mildred Bailey. And he also retained the
services of one of the most talented big band arrangers of the era – Bill Challis. Despite
the inclusion of exotica such as oboes, bassoons and innumerable strings, the jazzinfluence manages to punch its way through and a fair amount of Whiteman’s late
‘twenties output is accordingly of interest. It didn’t seem to interest Ambrose much
though, and when he later outlined to journalist Leonard Feather the bands that had
influenced his early style Whiteman’s wasn’t included.
Isham Jones, however, did get a mention, and in the late 1920’s, despite a
tendency to drop out of the danceband scene for occasional ‘retirements’, remained a
formidable rival to Whiteman both as a recording artist and on radio. By this time
Jones had given-up fronting the band on tenor and was one of the very few batonwielding bandleaders to genuinely conduct his band – that is by facing the players,
reading from a fully notated score and controlling the tempo. Some of these scores
were the work of Jones himself, and he remained a significant arranging talent,
particularly where blues-based numbers were concerned.
Ambrose could only appreciate the Isham Jones band at a distance but while in
New York he was able to spend some time with the highly acclaimed Ben Pollack band
(this was because Pollack’s manager Bernie Foyer was hoping to arrange a London
engagement for the following year) At the time Pollack was attracting capacity
audiences at Manhattan’s Park Central Hotel with a band that included Benny
Goodman and Jack Teagarden and featured a substantial number of arrangements by
Don Redman. Apart from a nightly half-hour radio show Pollack recorded regularly for
a variety of labels, often adopting pseudonyms like ‘The Whoopee Makers’ or ‘The
Hotsy-Totsy Gang’, and hired top soloists like Eddie Lang, Bix Beiderbeck and Jimmy
Dorsey for these sessions.
Benny Goodman joined the Pollack band in 1925 while it was still a West
Coast outfit, and played alongside Glenn Miller and Fud Livingston (both doubling as
arrangers). Despite leaving intermittently to play with other bands, latterly Isham
Jones’, Goodman invariably returned to the Pollack fold. Although most highly
regarded for his outstanding Chicago-style clarinet playing he was nothing if not
versatile and also regularly played alto, baritone, flute, oboe - and occasionally cornet.
The other principal jazz soloist with the Pollack band was Jack Teagarden on
trombone. He worked with Glenn Miller, until Miller departed later in the year. Miller
had been appreciated more for his arranging skills than as a trombonist, and when
Teagarden joined the band Pollack struck gold. Teagarden’s warm, richly melodic,
blues-influenced playing was unlike anything that had gone before. Miff Mole’s style
was emulated by most post-New Orleans trombonists, and was reasonably easy to
copy. The same cannot be said for Teagarden’s technically complex method of
playing; consequently his immediate impact was personal rather than widely
influential. Like Benny Goodman he was a prolific session player in addition to his
work for Pollack. Goodman and Teagarden got on well with Ambrose, who at this time
was one of the few British bandleaders to circulate within the New York jazz
community. Ben Pollack’s band was essentially a jazz-oriented danceband rather than
a jazz band proper, although on recordings the string section was usually dispensed
with.
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Actually, he only used strings because the hotel management insisted on it, and
this was one of the things that irked Benny Goodman and some of the other jazz
players in the band. And yet the hotel band was a huge hit with the American East
Coast college crowd and radio audiences. The point was probably not lost on Ambrose,
still formulating a musical policy for his own purposes.
As usual while in America, Ambrose put a trip to Harlem high on his agenda.
And consequently a visit to the already famous Cotton Club, from where Duke
Ellington was attracting an extensive popular following due to nightly radio
broadcasts. It wasn’t just the quality of the band’s playing that made Ellington so
popular but also the unique kind of music that they produced. Much of this was
original and composed by Ellington and others to accompany the floorshows that were
a feature of the Cotton Club. Apart from blues-inspired ‘mood’ numbers, Ellington’s
music included unique instrumentals with impeccable jazz credentials, and the famous
‘jungle sound’.
Cootie Williams (from Fletcher Henderson’s band) replaced Ellington’s star
trumpeter Bubber Miley, originator of the ‘growl’ technique - a key factor in the
‘jungle sound’, in 1929. Williams continued to develop Miley’s style and became
equally influential. Other significant players at this time were clarinettist Barney
Bigard, altoist Johnny Hodges and baritone player Harry Carney. Carney was
particularly influential in defining the role of the baritone, because the inclusion of this
instrument in reed sections was considered highly desirable when the tuba started to be
phased-out in the late 1920s. Apart from individual examples from within the twelvepiece band it was the so-called ‘Ellington Effect’ that would be of lasting influence,
especially on jazz composers and big band arrangers. Ellington’s novel
composing/arranging skills essentially involved key members of the orchestra to the
extent that it’s difficult to say exactly who was responsible for what. Although
Ellington’s work owed much to classical music – particularly harmonic structures – it
is significant that he refused to undertake formal studies in music theory, despite the
pleadings of Luckey Roberts and others. Although Ambrose certainly made at least one
visit to the Cotton Club at this time it is not known for certain whether he actually met
Duke Ellington there, but it seems probable.
Duke had a significant following among white audiences due to his nightly
radio shows but his main impact was on other bandleaders, musicians and arrangers.
Apart from the fact that most of his compositions originated as tunes rather than songs,
their true worth was not generally appreciated at the time. Duke Ellington’s manager
and mentor, the music publisher/impresario Irving Mills, did arrange for lyrics to be
added to most of his tunes and consequently several became hits in the best traditions
of Tin Pan Alley (TPA).
Irving Mills also published the music of pianist/composer Hoagy Carmichael.
Until 1927 Hoagy had been studying law at Indiana University as well as writing
music and occasionally jamming on piano with Bix Beiderbecke and other jazz stars.
In 1927 Red Nichols had a big hit with Hoagy’s Riverboat Shuffle and Hoagy then
abandoned his law studies and moved to New York. It was also in 1927 that Hoagy
Carmichael composed an up-tempo ragtime number that he called Stardust. Mills
published it as an instrumental in 1928 and the same year Don Redman’s band
recorded a lively jazz version. The tune later came to the attention of Isham Jones who
passed it over to his arranger Victor Young. Young transformed it into a lilting bluesy
number, which Jones then used.
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Mills heard this version on the radio and immediately recognised its potential
as a TPA song. Lyricist Mitchell Parish (who worked for Mills’ publishing concern)
put some words to the music and in 1929 it was re-published as the song Star Dust.
Like most people Ambrose became personally attached to certain tunes and Star Dust
was one of those tunes. As it had not yet been published in Britain, Ambrose
approached Irving Mills with a view to using it when he got back to London. Mills,
naturally, agreed and speeded-up the normal process whereby his American hits were
subsequently published in Britain by Lawrence Wright. However, Ambrose introduced
Star Dust as an instrumental on his radio shows (the orchestration was by Sid Phillips,
at the time Lawrence Wright’s chief arranger) and it was subsequently published as a
piano piece. Not until 1930 did it appear in Britain as a song, after being popularised as
such, again on radio, by the cabaret singer Leslie Huthinson (Hutch) and others.
Hoagy Carmichael’s Star Dust is an example of the very best that Tin Pan
Alley produced during its legendary existence, but it had to be turned into a song
before becoming a really big hit. On the other hand Ravel’s Bolero was that rare
commodity - a classical theme that became a popular hit without lyrics. Something
similar had happened to Stravinsky’s Rite Of Spring after its introduction some years
earlier. Although Bolero had to be shortened so as to fit on a 10” record, the pop
version was sufficiently close to the original to avoid coming under the heading
‘jazzing the classics’. Both Stravinsky and Ravel were greatly admired by Ambrose
who retained a keen interest in the kind of music for which he had originally been
trained. After obtaining a copy of the original score of Bolero Ambrose orchestrated a
condensed version for the May Fair band, which he broadcast the following year, but
never recorded.
During his stay in New York, Ambrose probably saw some of the current
shows on Broadway. One that had originated in Harlem was Fats Waller’s ‘HOT
CHOCOLATES’, an all-black show that included Louis Armstrong. Waller’s first big
hit – Ain’t Misbehavin’ – came from this show. ‘THE LITTLE SHOW’ was a review
that starred actor/dancer Clifton Webb, and torch singer Libby Holman who sang
Moanin’ Low. This became a big hit, and so did another song from the same show – I
Guess I’ll Have To Change My Plan. Another big hit of 1929 was George Gershwin’s
An American In Paris, which came from a ballet sequence in the Ziegfeld production –
‘SHOW GIRL’. Ruby Keeler, who co-starred with Jimmy Durante, played the ‘show
girl’ in the title. Two other major hits also came from Broadway shows – With A Song
In My Heart (‘SPRING IS HERE’), and Without A Song (‘GREAT DAYS’).
It usually took a year, sometimes longer, for American hits to reach Britain and
there was very little traffic in the opposite direction. However, Ambrose had already
recorded two songs in Britain in July 1929 that would become hits in America later the
same year. These were I’ll See You Again and Dear Little Café both of which were
featured in the Noël Coward stage musical ‘BITTER SWEET’ that had opened in
London earlier in the year. Ziegfeld had already arranged to bring Coward’s show to
Broadway by the time Ambrose arrived in New York. A year earlier Coward had
successfully staged his first musical on Broadway, and prior to this a number of plays.
The multi-talented Coward had an odd love/hate relationship with America. Although
something of a libertine in private, he was intensely patriotic and from early on in his
career became identified with the British Establishment; not really anti-American, but
nevertheless resenting the ‘creeping Americanisation’ of British popular culture.
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Because Ambrose had a quick wit and a nice line in repartee he was popular
with Coward and his immediate entourage, particularly the galaxy of stars who
contributed to Coward’s successes on Broadway. These included: Gertrude Lawrence,
Jack Buchanan, Evelyn Laye, Florence Desmond, and dancer Tilly Losch. Lower down
the scale the tradition of British variety acts appearing in American vaudeville
continued throughout the 1920s although by 1929 American vaudeville was in decline
due to the spread of radio and talking pictures.
By the late 1920s the number of Americans with access to a radio was
approaching sixty million, around half the country’s population. Apart from the three
major networks, listeners could tune-in to an average of a dozen local stations, some
affiliated to one or other of the network companies, others quite independent. In New
York there were around twenty local stations by the late 1920s. About 30% of
programmes broadcast consisted of dance music ranging from obscure local bands to
the big ‘name bands’. Most of this music was broadcast live – it had to be because the
art of pre-recording programmes was still at the experimental stage. Of course there
was the temptation for small local stations to substitute records for live performances
although the networks and their local affiliates were discouraged from doing this by the
threat of legal action on the part of the record companies, still convinced that record
sales would be aversely affected. The music publishers didn’t care how their songs
were broadcast just so long as they were – mass exposure always led to increased sales
of sheet music, and anyway the revenue generated by playing Tin Pan Alley items over
the airwaves was considerable. The most successful radio bands remained so for many
years; essentially by giving the public just what it wanted, even though this changed
over time. Paul Whiteman, Vincent Lopez, Isham Jones, Guy Lombardo, Fred Waring
and Wayne King led the most popular network radio dancebands. The last three were
almost entirely committed to ‘sweet’ dance music.
The decline of vaudeville and the increasing sophistication of musical theatre in
America meant that declamatory singers like Al Jolson and Sophie Tucker were
obliged to adopt a more intimate style in order to succeed on radio. These two did just
that – others didn’t and declined in popularity along with the vaudeville theatres. By
1929 Gene Austin, Bing Crosby and Rudy Vallee had been joined by the latest singing
heartthrob Russ Columbo. All had important network radio shows that equalled those
of the name bands in popularity if not the number of weekly programmes. Colombo’s
big hit of 1929 was Prisoner Of Love, composed by his mentor Con Conrad. By the
year’s end this song had clocked-up record sales exceeding two million. A new entrant
to the ranks of top female vocalists was Mildred Bailey, who came to prominence after
joining Paul Whiteman. Ruth Etting and Annette Hanshaw also broadcast regularly and
remained hugely popular as a result.
Another major factor contributing to the decline of vaudeville was the film
musical, essentially a product of the ‘talkie’ era. By 1929 this new genre had become
well established if not exactly perfected. Not bad going since it was only two years
previously that Al Jolson had startled movie audiences by suddenly bursting into song
in the partially silent film ‘THE JAZZ SINGER’. A sequel in 1928 was followed a year
later by three films all of which were ‘talkies’. However the big film musical hit of
1929 was undoubtedly MGM’s ‘BROADWAY MELODY’ – the ‘all talking – all singing
– all dancing…sensation!’ This essentially set the standard for hundreds of film
musicals that emanated from Hollywood over the next thirty years. Another influential
film musical of 1929 was ‘ON WITH THE SHOW’.
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Apart from the use of an early form of Technicolor this film featured black
singer Ethel Waters. Another film musical released the same year was ‘SALLY’; again
in Technicolor, and featuring Ziegfeld star Marilyn Miller. Film musicals became an
additional source for popular songs after 1929. The standard formula for Tin Pan Alley
numbers was simple enough; Hollywood’s formula for its own requirements even
simpler. And so, as songs written specifically for cabaret and musical theatre got
steadily more sophisticated throughout the decade the output of Tin Pan Alley didn’t,
although sudden ‘crazes’ always had to be accommodated. By the late 1920s the blues
was much less in evidence in mainstream pop music, with blues artists like Bessie
Smith relegated to Race Records and radio programmes that had large AfricanAmerican audiences. Rather than cater for the tastes of well-heeled white audiences in
Harlem clubs (as did Ethel Waters), Bessie preferred to tour the South with a tent show
and despite the best efforts of the Ku Klux Klan proved as popular with white
audiences as with her own people.
The white equivalent to the blues was country (hillbilly) music, and this, like
the blues, had an indirect though profound effect on some aspects of popular music.
Radio stations in country areas were broadcasting a lot of live hillbilly music by the
late 1920s, and some of this filtered through to the networks. As well as Tin Pan Alley,
Broadway and Hollywood were obliged to take note. With country music there was a
reverse process – the popularity of dancebands on network radio gave rise to a new
country music style (later called Western Swing) that was just beginning to emerge in
the late 1920s.
Apart from the titles already mentioned, the other big hits in America in 1929
were: - Am I Blue, Basin Street Blues, Broadway Melody, Green Eyes, Honeysuckle
Rose, Jericho, Just You Just Me, Liza, Louise, Mean To Me, Pagan Love Song,
Painting The Clouds With Sunshine, Piccolo Pete, Puttin’ On The Ritz, Singin’ In The
Rain, True Blue Lou, Why Was I Born, You Do Something To Me, You Were Meant
For Me. Although most of the top British bandleaders kept abreast of American hits
before they were published in Britain, the fact that Ambrose was on the spot must have
been an advantage, and he undoubtedly made a note of titles likely to catch-on back
home.
Ambrose took some time out for purely pleasurable pursuits during his stay in
America, including a trip to the Catskill Mountains in the company of Jimmy and Jane
Dorsey. He also got in some golf with Benny Goodman, an occasional sporting
partnership that would last for decades. Although Ambrose did not yet warrant
celebrity status in America his visit was of sufficient interest to attract the attention of
at least one minor gossip columnist who not only told of the above vacation exploits
but also revealed that he had been seen in the company of: ‘A delectable sixteen-year
old chorus girl called Constance Cummings’. Delectable liaisons notwithstanding, in
early September Ambrose was obliged to return to London and pick-up where he had
left off…or perhaps not!
In mid-September Ambrose resumed his Saturday night radio broadcasts. Now
the BBC had until this time been quite content for bandleaders to formulate and present
the contents of such broadcasts without undue interference. Of course there were a
number of regulations that had to be complied with, but on the whole bandleaders were
left to their own devices. However, new regulations were now issued and these forbade
the disclosure of song titles and prohibited the inclusion of vocal choruses.
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The BBC made it clear that any bandleader who dared to flout these new
regulations would be banned from the airwaves. The objective was to curb the payment
of the ‘plug’ money previously referred to. Predictably, these new regulations – which
only applied to late night outside broadcasts – caused consternation among the handful
of bandleaders concerned. But of course it would wouldn’t it? After all they were
taking ‘plug’ money. And anyway they were supposed to be providing music to dance
to and not a 1920s version of ‘TOP OF THE POPS’. On the other hand Ambrose (in
particular) had used his allocated time to present a radio show that went beyond a mere
succession of dance tunes and/or pop songs and, moreover, at his own expense. And
many radio listeners had indicated their appreciation of Ambrose’s efforts by writing to
the BBC – a quaint tradition of the time!
Although the BBC had been concerned for some time about reports in the press
regarding ‘plug’ money, it was not so much the actual deed itself that bothered them
but rather the tarnishing of its own image as an upholder of national probity. As usual
the BBC was caught between a rock and a hard place – or two opposing interests.
Moreover Mrs Philip Snowden, the wife of the Chancellor of the Exchequer, was
spearheading the campaign against. A deadly combination of religious fundamentalism
and socialist conviction, her interventionist outlook was quite different to that of the
average BBC governor, content to leave the running of the corporation to the Director
General.
The opposing side comprised the venue owners, the bandleaders, and a large
number of listeners who made their views known by writing to newspapers and the
BBC. Ambrose made his position clear by withdrawing the bands at the May Fair and
Café de Paris from the airwaves. Before the kafuffle got out of hand wiser councils
prevailed. The Labour government (in power since the previous June) had within its
ranks George Lansbury, who was partial to ‘hot’ dance music and friendly with Jack
Hylton (a Labour Party supporter). A combination of Lansbury’s intervention and
ripples from the Wall Street crash (which occurred in October, 1929) put the matter to
rest and at the end of October the new regulations were rescinded.
Ambrose recommenced Saturday night broadcasts in early November, no doubt
introducing any new numbers that he brought back from America. As before, the band
was augmented with a string section and an additional percussionist. As well as taking
care of the routine vocals, Lou Aberlardo functioned as MC/announcer - Ambrose
being ‘microphone shy’ at this time. Betty Bolton also made occasional contributions,
as before, and was later joined by Florence Oldham, both girls being experienced
broadcasters. An all-male vocal trio was also featured on a regular basis, but who its
personnel were is not known. Ambrose, of course, was obliged to bear the cost of these
extras himself. Neither the BBC nor the hotel management made any financial
contribution, but both in their way were facilitating Ambrose’s ambitions. He had, after
all, a Saturday night audience numbering millions, and one that was growing
increasingly appreciative.
One section of the listening public, however, remained critically hostile – the
dedicated dancers, or at least their most fanatical representative organisation. This was
the peculiarly named Ancient Order of Fox-trotters, who objected to the inclusion of
vocals and ‘hot’ solos because they tended to divert the concentration of dancers away
from the intricacies of ‘correct’ dancing. Perhaps they had a point – at the time some
people did actually roll up the living room carpet and dance to the strains of the radio.
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By the autumn of 1929 Decca had released over twenty Ambrose titles and
between October and December he cut around another twenty. Three of these – Pagan
Love Song, With A Song In My Heart and Painting The Clouds With Sunshine –
were songs as yet unpublished outside America, so Ambrose may have been the first to
record them in Britain. Given that he probably ‘plugged’ them on the radio, they
should have been sure-fire hits, but they weren’t – at least not for Ambrose! The
arrangements were superb, the instrumental work excellent, but a combination of poor
vocal work, inferior sound quality and high prices prevented Ambrose from joining the
ranks of the top British recording artists. And he was not best pleased!
To assist him in fashioning a more satisfactory recording career, Ambrose hired
a musician/bandleader with a great deal of recording experience – Al Starita. One of
three Italian-American brothers who had worked in Britain since the early 1920s,
clarinettist Starita had recently left the Piccadilly Hotel where he had led a danceband
and was now working as a session musician. Starita’s brief was to advise Ambrose on
how to overcome his lack of recording success, a rather odd assignment to say the
least. Starita attended a Decca recording session in early January and immediately
came to two conclusions - firstly, a much better vocalist must be used and secondly,
Decca was incapable of making records of sufficient quality to justify the price being
asked. Ambrose quickly acted on both conclusions. Joe Brannelly was ordered to find a
vocalist with clear ability in the recording studio, in America if necessary, and
regardless of cost.
Ambrose also approached the two major British recording companies –
Columbia and HMV – with a view to switching labels when his contract with Decca
ended in March. Even before negotiations were completed Ambrose notified Decca of
his intention to depart.
So far as a new vocalist was concerned, Joe soon reduced the shortlist of
possibilities down to two names – Al Bowlly and Sam Browne, both loosely associated
with other bands but essentially freelance session vocalists. Al Bowlly had a distinct
singing style and was a competent rhythm guitarist. Also, he had worked with Fred
Elizalde and some of the ad hoc recording groups comprising Ambrose sidemen.
Despite these advantages, Bowlly did not get the job – of course he may not have
wanted it, but this seems unlikely given that the salary on offer was £30 a week [about
£1,200 now]. The other possibility is that he didn’t even know he was under
consideration.
Of the man who did get the job – Sam Browne – it is almost impossible to
exaggerate his significance to the success of the Ambrose band. At a stroke the last
weak link in its armoury of talent had been eliminated and from this time on Sam
Browne became one of the select few upon whom Ambrose placed almost total
reliance and in whom he had absolute confidence. Of course employing people on a
‘can’t do without’ basis doesn’t come cheap and Sam Browne was probably the highest
paid band vocalist in Britain throughout the 1930s, particularly if account is taken of
his prolific session work in addition to vocalising for Ambrose. Although some
profiles of Sam suggest that he couldn’t read music, this was not the case – he was
competent to the extent required for a singer, and could transpose from one key to
another when necessary.
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The loss of the Ambrose band must have been somewhat daunting for Decca’s
dynamic boss Sir Edward Lewis, but at least he had fifty odd titles the recordings of
which remained the property of Decca. Many of these became steady sellers rather
than instant hits, and a few remained in the Decca catalogue for several years. One of
the last titles to be recorded by Ambrose at Decca, and one of his first to benefit from
Sam Browne’s vocal talent, was a song that became indelibly associated with Ambrose
over the years – Body And Soul. Legend has it that Ambrose first heard it sung on the
radio by musical theatre star Gertrude Lawrence. Johnny Green, an American
composer and society bandleader, had written it for a West End review in which she
was then appearing. Ambrose immediately fell in love with the song and contacted
Gertrude Lawrence for details. All she had was Johnny Green’s hand-written music, so
Ambrose borrowed this, sketched-out an arrangement (later refined by Bert Read) and
after obtaining Johnny Green’s permission performed the song at the May Fair – all
within the space of twenty-four hours!
If the circumstances under which Ambrose gained access to Body And Soul
were somewhat unusual its recording history was equally so. Ambrose may have been
the first bandleader to perform Body And Soul in public, but the first recording was
made by Jack Hylton, who also partly financed the review in which it was featured.
Subsequently Ambrose included it in a Decca recording session in February 1930.
After three attempts (‘takes’) a recording was produced that was considered
acceptable. Apart from Sam Browne’s excellent vocal this version included a rare
violin solo by Ambrose himself. For some reason Decca became dissatisfied with the
third ‘take’ and the song was re-recorded at a subsequent session. Normally this would
be of little interest, but something rather odd occurred when the title was eventually
released; ‘take-three’ from the first session was inadvertently used instead of ‘taketwo’ from the second session. This mistake was eventually rectified, but not before the
first batch of records had been released. And so there are two versions of Body And
Soul both bearing the same catalogue number. Ambrose’s recording was only a minor
hit at the time but sold steadily and remained in the Decca catalogue for twenty-five
years!
About the time he recorded Body And Soul, Sam Browne made his first
broadcast with the May Fair band. Lou Aberlardo continued as MC/announcer for a
few weeks, but by the end of March this function also had been taken-over by Sam. At
this time the May Fair ballroom was not fitted with loudspeakers so he was only on
duty during the weekly broadcasts. (During broadcasts ballroom patrons could scarcely
hear the vocal contributions.) Sam Browne also broadcast with Ambrose’s other band,
the Blue Lyres, back in residence at the Café de Paris after a successful tour of variety
theatres. Around this time there was some speculation that Al Starita would soon be
taking over leadership of the Blue Lyres from Arthur Lally, and there might have been
some truth in this because Lally had made known his intention of leaving when his
contract expired in the spring. However, it was not to be – Starita had outstayed his
welcome, at least so far as the British government was concerned.
Both the United States and the United Kingdom had introduced restrictions on
so-called ‘alien’ workers after the First World War. In the American case such
restrictions applied to anyone not classed as a ‘citizen of the USA’ – in Britain they
applied only to those outside the boundaries of the British Empire. (Special provisions
existed for interchange between Canada and the USA.)
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Because these restrictions were not really aimed at either set of ‘transatlantic
cousins’ the issuing of work permits was little more than a formality when someone
from Britain wanted to work in America…and vice versa. So far as show business was
concerned there was a long tradition of interchange between the two countries. In the
early years of the 20th Century the Broadway stage had been dominated by British
productions, and many Broadway shows and plays regularly transferred to the West
End. Similarly with vaudeville (US) and variety (UK) – the stars of both regularly
crossed the Atlantic. It would have been inconceivable to deny Gertrude Lawrence a
work permit to appear on Broadway, or Fred Astaire in the West End. Public opinion
in both countries would have been hostile to such actions.
Public opinion is one thing, the attitude of a home country’s workers and trade
unions another. In the case of stage workers there doesn’t seem to have been a great
problem, and the respective unions (Equity and the Variety Artists Federation in the
UK – Actors Equity in the US) concluded agreements that were accepted by the two
governments. For musicians it was quite different and from the mid-1920s antagonism
between the respective unions – the Musicians’ Union (MU) in the UK and the
American Federation of Musicians (AFM) in the US – accelerated. Unlike their stage
equivalents, the MU and AFM were entirely different in structure and outlook.
Membership of the MU was open to anyone who claimed to play a musical instrument
for a living, even if only part-time. Membership of the AFM was restricted to full-time
musicians and applicants were obliged to pass both reading and performance tests
before being admitted to membership. The MU issued a set of minimum rates and
working conditions but these were really recommendations and not enforceable in
many cases. The AFM ensured compliance with its rates and conditions by militant
action – members were not permitted to work with non-members, a tacit ‘closed shop’
system was enforced, and strike action was taken whenever the AFM deemed it
necessary. This militant approach had paid-off and only musicians working on the
fringes (like in jazz clubs!) remained outside the union, at least in the big cities. Even if
the MU had wished to adopt such policies by the late 1920s this would have been
difficult because following the 1926 General Strike a Conservative government had
introduced a Trades Disputes Act that made such militancy difficult to put into effect.
Apart from the differences in trade union practices, there was also an imbalance
in the number of ‘alien’ musicians working in the two countries. This was known
because of the work permit systems. In 1929 it was estimated that over 500 British
musicians were working in America, but only 140 Americans in Britain. The same year
the AFM reported record unemployment among its members and apart from placing an
embargo on British bands playing in America brought pressure to bear on the US
government to stop work permits being issued to ‘alien’ musicians. An early casualty
was Jack Hylton who had rashly accepted an engagement for his band in Chicago. Had
this gone ahead, the entire AFM membership in the Windy City would have been
brought-out on strike.
Although the American government announced early in 1930 that no further
work permits would be issued for British musicians, at least for the foreseeable future,
the British government declined to retaliate despite the pleadings of the MU. However,
it was decided that the automatic renewal of work permits would no longer be allowed
and that a good case would have to be made for such renewals. Moreover permit
holders who had worked in Britain for three years or more would have to apply for
British citizenship or face having their permits revoked.
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These were general provisions and not directed specifically at musicians or the
show business fraternity. Essentially, the door was still left open for American
musicians to work in Britain and for American bands to cross the Atlantic, just so long
as they didn’t outstay their welcome. So far as the MU was concerned they weren’t
welcome at all. However the British public disagreed and booking agents were well
aware of the drawing power of American artists and bands.
Al Starita was an early victim of the new regulations and as he did not wish to
relinquish his American citizenship had little choice but to bring his career in Britain to
a close. Arthur Lally went to the Berkeley Hotel in March and Ambrose asked Peter
Rush (Lally’s second-in-command) to lead the Blue Lyres. The same month Sir
Francis Towle offered Ambrose a further three-year contract to supply bands for
Gordon Hotels, and also a renewal of the contract for the May Fair band (which was
negotiated annually). Of course both contracts really involved Ambrose’s company,
which was now a big player in the band supply business. As well as the Café de Paris
and other restaurants, clubs and dancehalls, the well-known Kit-Cat establishment now
came within Ambrose’s orbit. The Kit-Cat had a definite jazz bias, or at least a
reputation for ‘hot’ dance music. Ambrose brought over two American bands for
limited summer engagements, Hal Kemp’s for the Café de Paris, and Ted Lewis’ for
the Kit-Cat.
It was also in March 1930 that Ambrose returned to HMV. On this label he
would have some distinguished stable mates, including Jack Hylton. HMV also
featured some of the output of famous American artists through an agreement with
RCA-Victor. These included Paul Whiteman, Rudy Vallee and Fred Waring’s
Pennsylvanians (a popular band and choral group). Given HMVs formidable publicity
and marketing clout – and the fact that he had negotiated better terms than previously –
Ambrose’s entry into the mainstream of British pop records was at last possible if not
actually guaranteed. Between March and June 1930 a dozen or so titles were cut under
the direct supervision of Al Starita. By the end of July most had been released and
immediate acceptance by the record buying public showed that Ambrose had achieved
the desired break-through.
The fact that Ambrose was able to feature songs on his radio programmes just
before they were released on record didn’t go unnoticed, but this was part of Starita’s
plan and fortunately the HMV recording executive responsible for Ambrose’s output
supported this strategy. However, there was no chance of recording any of the jazzoriented instrumental arrangements that were also broadcast, and this tends to affect
our present perspective of the Ambrose band circa-1930, which is a pity. It was
certainly more than purveyor of Tin Pan Alley pop music.
Both Hal Kemp and Ted Lewis arrived with their bands for eight-week stints at
their respective venues at the end of May. Hal Kemp was a noted sax player and his
band a highly acclaimed jazz-oriented outfit. During his tenure at the Café de Paris the
Blue Lyres undertook a tour of variety theatres in the London area. Ted Lewis was a
veteran clarinet player who had been one of the first white musicians to adopt a justabout-genuine jazz style in New York before the ODJB took the town by storm in
1917. However, even then his flamboyant comedy routines tended to overshadow any
jazz content and down the years his playing had become increasingly perfunctory.
Despite this he was hugely popular, at least in America. Apart from the music his other
weakness was booze, and this proved to be his undoing, at least so far as his British
venture was concerned.
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Although both Hal Kemp and Ted Lewis were well known in Britain, it was
one of Lewis’ sidemen who caused the greatest flutter of interest especially among jazz
fans. This was Jimmy Dorsey who had joined Lewis’ band especially for the London
visit. By now Jimmy Dorsey and his wife were personal friends of Ambrose and they
stayed at the May Fair as his guests. It must almost have seemed like a home-fromhome for Jimmy Dorsey because he knew all Ambrose’s American contingent and had
worked with most of them in New York. It was during his visit that Dorsey took part in
a ‘jam session’ at Pop’s Club (a high-class West End jazz venue) that turned into a
‘cutting contest’ between himself, Danny Polo and Joe Crossman. It was probably a
draw, but afterwards Jimmy Dorsey maintained that Joe Crossman was the best jazz
altoist he had come across outside of America.
Poor old Ted Lewis ran into trouble on his second day at the Kit-Cat. That
evening the restaurant was scheduled for the BBCs late-night dance music slot and
Lewis took on the role of MC/announcer. Apart from the peculiarity to British ears of
his Lower East Side patter he was clearly ‘sloshed’. In fact Lewis spent most of his
spare time staggering from one bar to another unable to get enough of what was then
not so easily obtained in America – good quality liquor. Usually it didn’t matter too
much because his prancing comedy routines performed in front of the band masked his
inebriated state. Such behaviour over the sacrosanct BBC airwaves was quite another
matter. For the rest of the band’s engagement at the Kit-Cat Ambrose was obliged to
supervise its late-night radio slots, and may even have fronted the band on these
occasions.
About the time the American bands arrived in Britain, Ambrose hired his first
regular (although essentially part-time) girl vocalist. This was sixteen-year-old Ella
Logan. She had been born into a well-known Scottish theatrical family and first
appeared on stage at the age of three. Throughout the 1920s she toured Britain and
Europe as a child performer in various stage shows. Although she had sung on the
radio with various bands, including Jack Hylton’s, it was the regular broadcasts from
the May Fair that gained her national recognition. Although she sang scores of
different songs during her eighteen month stint with Ambrose only a half dozen or so
ever got to be recorded (anonymously) with the May Fair band, possibly because she
had her own separate recording contract. Ambrose also used an established vocal group
called the Three Ginx for broadcasts. This group comprised Eric Handley, Ivor
Robbins and Jack Joy.
In June 1930 the top West End bandleaders attended a meeting at Pop’s Club
called by Jack Hylton to discuss the formation of an association to protect their
interests. That such ‘protection’ was thought necessary was indicative of the general
feeling that bad times were on the way. In America the Great Depression was rapidly
taking hold and its British equivalent – the Slump – just beginning to be recognised as
more than a temporary glitch. Apart from the wealth and power he derived from years
at the summit of British show business, Hylton was important because he had links to
the Labour government and trade union movement. In some respects he was a political
animal and even considered standing for parliament on more than one occasion. The
association was duly formed with Hylton as president and Ambrose as chairman and
immediately sought discussions with the already established association that
represented West End hotel, restaurant and club owners. Some owners had been
threatening to hire less expensive bands from outside London unless the regular
bandleaders lowered their financial expectations.
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This doesn’t appear to have happened on a large scale so some compromise
was probably reached. However, the squeeze was definitely on. Another sign of the
times was the gradual elimination of the big independent hotels. Most of the top
London hotels now belonged to conglomerates like the Gordon group. For example the
Savoy and Berkeley hotels and Claridges were part of one group, the Ritz, Grosvenor
House and Embassy Club another, and so on. One of the last big independents was the
Piccadilly Hotel, and in June 1930 this was taken over by Gordon Hotels. The
Piccadilly boasted two salon orchestras (one led by a youthful Max Jaffa) and two
dancebands. Provision of the bands now became part of Ambrose’s remit. Times might
have been getting harder but this doesn’t seem to have stopped Ambrose’s empire
expanding. Whether it remained as profitable is another matter. The part that supplied
bands for private functions certainly seemed to be taking a knock, probably because
the era of the Bright Young Things and their wild and wildly expensive partying had
all-but disappeared, along with the Roaring Twenties. At the time Ambrose lamented
in the Melody Maker: ‘The gig world as we knew it hardly seems to exist anymore’.
Those experiencing the economies of the Slump might be forgiven for not feeling
much sympathy for Ambrose in this respect, at least the non-musicians among them.
Ambrose was a keen all-round sportsman. Occasionally, on summer Saturdays,
he would play cricket for the village team near his country retreat in the Weald of
Kent. But his favourite sport was golf, for which most Sundays were reserved. He was
quite good and as with the violin it was only lack of practice that militated against even
better performance. Ambrose’s passion for golf was shared by quite a few of the
sidemen who played in the various bands under his control. In the May Fair band Bert
Read, Ted Heath, Sylvester Ahola, Joe Brannelly and Joe Crossman were keen players
and others like Sam Browne and Joe Jeannette dabbled in the game. In the summer of
1930 Ambrose organised the first of many annual golf tournaments for his musicians.
Apart from a substantial cash prize the winner held the Ambrose Band Golf Cup until
the next tournament.
Another nice touch was the annual dinner that Ambrose organised for the boys
in the main band, and this too was held just before the summer vacations came into
effect. For this event wives and girlfriends were invited and usually some notable
guests. Hal Kemp and his wife, and Jimmy and Jane Dorsey were guests at the1930
dinner. (Presumably poor old Ted Lewis was otherwise engaged!)
Towards the end of July musicians in the May Fair band started to take their
annual vacations. In most cases these were staggered over six weeks because the band
– or rather an emasculated version – continued to operate. All the musicians were
entitled to two weeks paid leave, but could take additional unpaid leave. This was so in
the case of the American contingent and Danny Polo, Sylvester Ahola, and Joe
Brannelly returned to America for extended vacations. In fact they travelled to New
York on the same ship as the Kemp and Lewis bands homeward-bound after their
London stints.
Ambrose did not go to America that summer; he had a one-week engagement in
Paris that extended into the first week of August. This undertaking involved an
unknown Parisian venue and a studio broadcast, but no details have come to light. Nor
is it clear what band Ambrose took over – possibly an ad hoc one. After this Ambrose
spent about four weeks in the South of France, returning to London in early September.
Ernie Lewis supervised what was left of the May Fair band during Ambrose’s absence.
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The substitute musicians engaged that summer included Ted Heath’s brother
Bert on trumpet. Broadcasts ceased over the summer, but resumed on the first Saturday
in September. Danny Polo was the only musician who failed to return after the summer
break. As a replacement second altoist Ambrose hired Jack Shields. He was also a
noted ‘hot’ clarinettist, but henceforth Joe Crossman would play the baritone solos.
Apart from these reed section changes the band remained the same as before. One parttime addition to the arranging team around this time was Sid Phillips.
Although not a regular component of the May Fair band, the string section that
Ambrose used for recording and broadcasting purposes was beginning to attract
attention due to the quality of its contributions. This was due partly to the outstanding
skill of the players, and partly to the unique scoring of the arrangers, particularly Lew
Stone. Ernie Lewis was the only full-time fiddle player and his primary function was to
deputise for Ambrose on the May Fair bandstand. He was also the nominal first violin
when a string section was used, but he was not really a virtuoso so didn’t usually play
any violin solos that might be required. This task usually fell to one of the part-time
fiddle players. They came exclusively from the pool of top session violinists, or from
other orchestras within Ambrose’s jurisdiction. The number used on any particular
occasion varied from two to four, although it usually sounded as though more were
being used. Two of the violinists that Ambrose used in the early 1930s could play in
‘jazz mode’ – Peter Rush and Teddy Sinclair. The others were essentially classical
musicians, the best-known being – Jean Pougnet, Eric Siday, Reginald Leopold, Max
Jaffa, Hugo Rignold and Reg Pursglove.
Although Ambrose’s recording career had taken off he was still relegated to the
‘second eleven’ when it came to recording titles for HMV. The following were the big
hits of 1930, with those recorded by Ambrose being denoted in bold type: A Bench In The Park, Blue Again, Body And Soul, Cryin’ For The Carolines,
Dancing On The Ceiling, Falling In Love Again, Georgia On My Mind, Get Happy, I
Got Rhythm, Little White Lies, Love For Sale, Rockin’ In Rhythm, Sweet And Hot, St
James’ Infirmary, The Free And Easy, Ten Cents A Dance.
Jack Hylton and other artists undoubtedly got first choice when it came to
recording the best of Tin Pan Alley’s output for HMV, but at least Ambrose had his
foot in the door.
Listeners to Ambrose’s Saturday night radio shows would have fared better
when it came to the latest hit tunes, and Ambrose usually included a sprinkling of jazz
classics and speciality numbers. According to Joe Crossman the band was still using
the arrangements that had been commissioned four years earlier from Fud Livingston,
so numbers like Bugle Call Rag, Dippermouth Blues and Doctor Jazz were
occasionally featured. So too were some of Duke Ellington’s compositions like Black
and Tan Fantasy and East St Louis Toodle-oo, especially after Sid Phillips joined the
arranging team. As such output was never recorded we cannot now fully appreciate the
true worth of the band at that time from a purely instrumental point of view. Also the
lack of extended solos on the recorded titles tends to mask the abilities of individual
players. This was something else that could be rectified on the radio, and each week at
least one soloist was featured in a speciality number.
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Sylvester Ahola, Dennis Ratcliffe (trumpets), Ted Heath (trombone), Joe
Crossman (alto), Danny Polo (clarinet), Arthur Lally (baritone), Joe Brannelly (guitar),
Bert Read, Max Bacon (xylophone) and various violinists were specially featured at
one time or another. Lew Stone sometimes played a featured piano solo with the band
during broadcasts and occasionally celesta and tubular bells. Max Bacon could already
play the xylophone when he joined Ambrose and was subsequently badgered into
learning the vibraphone. Around this time, encouraged by Ambrose, Max took parttime theory lessons at the Guildhall School of Music. Within eighteen months he had
acquired sufficient skill to try his hand at composing and wrote a popular song – Too
Good To Be True – that Ambrose broadcast in the spring of 1930.
During the autumn of 1930 the May Fair band continued to record and
broadcast much as before. In November Ambrose presided over a big charity dance at
the Olympia ballroom - the first time that the band had played in a public dance hall.
The event was a sell-out, and in some respects marks the end of Ambrose’s
professional exclusiveness. The Roaring Twenties had come and gone…the Triumphal
Thirties were beckoning - at least so far as the Ambrose Orchestra was concerned.
III
1931-1933
By the start of 1931 the American Depression that followed hard on the heels of the
Wall Street Crash of 1929 had become a world-wide phenomenon. The Crash was a
single event; the Depression a process. Of the former, one example will suffice – the
pauperisation of the great American showman Florenz Ziegfeld. By the late 1920s he
had accumulated a vast fortune almost all of which was invested in stocks and shares.
On that fateful day in October 1929 when shares plummeted in value Ziegfeld could
not be immediately reached by his stockbroker. By the time Ziegfeld authorised the
sale of his holdings it was too late – they were virtually worthless. Ironically, the
popular song Happy Days Are Here Again was published around the same time that the
stock market crashed!
The generalised misery among the American people, of all classes and all races,
which came with the Great Depression must be acknowledged but not dwelt on. It went
from bad to worse until the election of Franklin D. Roosevelt to the Presidency in 1932
and the launch of his New Deal recovery programme the following year. Of course
many Americans escaped the worst ravages of the Depression – but very few remained
unaffected by its psychological consequences. Popular culture reflected this but
primarily in an escapist way and so far as music was concerned it wasn’t Tin Pan
Alley, Broadway or Hollywood that provided the most authentic themes but rather the
jazz, blues and country singers who lived and worked in the midst of the despair. In
Britain only a relatively small number of investors were affected by the Wall Street
Crash. Among them was Winston Churchill who had a similar experience to Ziegfeld,
although the sum involved was a great deal less. In a way this is ironic because some
of the financial problems that afflicted Britain in 1931 had their origins in measures
introduced during Winston Churchill’s tenure as Chancellor of the Exchequer between
1924 and 1929. On the other hand, Churchill was one of the most pro-American
politicians around at the time and undoubtedly held-out against those who advocated
economic retaliation against America due to its policy of keeping out imports.
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And it so happened that the more the United States withdrew behind economic
and social barriers the more dangerous the world became. America had never
subscribed to the Free Trade ethos of the British. This mattered little before the First
World War when Britain was the principal creditor nation, but when the United States
replaced Britain in this role after the war, it mattered a great deal. America imported
what it wanted when it wanted it, and when it didn’t want it any more kept it out. One
good example of this was labour, particularly ‘cheap’ labour. From the late 19th
Century to the start of the First World War millions of people were allowed entry into
the United States. Without such immigration the fantastic expansion in American
productive industries would have been impossible. After the war the need for labour
diminished dramatically and the ‘huddled masses’ were no longer welcome. In 1920
the door started to close, particularly for those not possessing Anglo-Saxon credentials,
and even those that did could not always obtain work permits.
British musicians who wished to work in the United States after the late 1920s
had a particularly hard time. This was not entirely because of US government policy,
but rather restrictions imposed by the American Federation of Musicians (AFM), the
trade union concerned. Of course special provision was made for foreign virtuoso
performers to appear on American concert platforms but these were invariably of the
classical kind. And any concessions on the part of the AFM rarely extended to large
orchestras of whatever type. One thing’s for sure, ‘alien’ danceband musicians and
entire dancebands were definitely unwelcome.
The AFM considered that it had good reason to adopt the approach it did and
it’s difficult not to sympathise. As the Depression took hold after 1930, musicians
started to be laid-off in ever increasing numbers. Around this time the AFM’s Local
802, which covered central New York, had around two thirds of its membership either
unemployed or under-employed. And it wasn’t only establishments like hotels and
restaurants that were cutting-back - session work in recording studios was also in
decline. Added to these Depression-linked problems was the end that came to live
movie theatre music as the ‘talkies’ rapidly replaced silent films after 1929. A similar
fate befell vaudeville theatre bands as radio replaced live variety in the affections of
the populace. Of course there was an increase in the number of musicians required for
film production and radio work, but this hardly matched the numbers being jettisoned.
Little wonder, then, that the AFM felt compelled to take action against foreign
incursions even though this remained a token gesture until the mid-1930s. Apart from
bringing pressure to bear on the US government to stop issuing work permits, the AFM
had a great deal of influence over major employers of musicians, particularly large
concerns. The AFM’s militancy worked not only because its membership remained
loyal but also because it was in the interests of musicians’ employers to work with the
union, rather than against it. In return for minimum rates of pay and specified working
conditions the AFM guaranteed minimum professional standards, and these included
standards of behaviour. In fact it was not possible for a musician to merely ‘join’ the
AFM – he (rarely she) had to be ‘accepted’ into its ranks. And that meant passing
both performance and music reading tests, and satisfying a range of personal criteria
deemed essential for a ‘professional’ musician.
To some extent the AFM acted as a filter, keeping out ‘undesirable elements’
and so making its membership an attractive proposition to those hiring musicians. This
combination of ‘carrot and stick’ was a clever strategy, and it worked at a time when
many mainstream unions in the United States were in a weak position due to anti-union
measures introduced after the First World War.
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In Britain, the AFM’s counterpart was the Musicians Union (MU), but apart
from the fact that both operated as trade unions they were very different organisations.
Membership of the MU was open to any ‘musician’ who could claim to be working as
such in virtually any capacity. Essentially, this included ‘semi-professionals’ –
musicians who might well be employed elsewhere when they were not playing music
for remuneration. Of course, the MU used whatever influence it could to obtain
minimum rates and working conditions and was not entirely unsuccessful, but it never
achieved the same rapport with major employers in Britain as did the AFM in America.
The problems that beset the AFM and MU were also somewhat different. By
1931 unemployment was increasing in both the US and the UK, but at different rates
vis-à-vis the respective total work forces. Moreover, in the US high unemployment
was generalised throughout the country and affected almost every class of worker. In
the UK really heavy unemployment (up to 75% in some localities) was confined to
rural areas and large industrial cities. In London and urban areas of the South East and
Midlands unemployment was much lower, and a substantial proportion of the
workforce benefited from such factors as the continuing buoyancy of certain light
industries and a suburban house building boom that not even a world-wide depression
could stop. Of course, Britain was much more of a class society than America and that
strata of society in Britain that could clearly be defined as ‘middle class’ suffered less
than its approximate equivalent in America…if indeed it suffered at all! Generally,
professional musicians in Britain were paid rates that put them firmly in the middle
class bracket and on the whole it was middle class audiences that they catered for.
Since the late-1920s the MU had become increasingly concerned about the
success that the AFM was having in keeping-out ‘alien’ musicians and bands and
continually pressed for retaliation. But the MU lacked the necessary influence in
government circles, and so work permits continued to be issued to visiting American
musicians. Apart from upholding the principles of Free Trade the UK government was
also anxious to avoid any kind of confrontation with the US government because of the
heavy imbalance in debt between the two countries. The Americans now held the whip
hand in matters financial. The MU did its best to change the government’s mind by
sending a deputation of unemployed musicians to meet with the minister concerned,
Miss Margaret Bondfield; she cut short the meeting with the immortal words…‘Well, I
don’t’ know about you lot but I’ve got work to do!’
The onset of the Great Depression was accompanied by a catastrophic collapse
in the American record industry. Take for example sales of Victor records - in 1929
thirty-five million, in 1931 five-million! The other major companies suffered a similar
fate. It got so bad that for a time the production of phonographs ceased altogether. In
Britain the Slump also led to reduced record sales and cut-backs in production, but on
nothing like the same scale.
Why the difference? Well, in America the record industry served a truly mass
market – in Britain it didn’t. Record buying in the UK was essentially an upper and
middle class pursuit; the cost of gramophones and records was beyond the means of
most of the working class (around 80% of the population). And as mentioned above
the middle class (around 15%) was not affected by the Slump to the same extent.
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Listening to the radio was also a mass phenomenon in America, while in
Britain it was again mainly the middle class that annually purchased approximately
five-million radio licences. The fact that the initial cost of radios in the US was lower
and there was no licence fee to pay were contributory factors to the widespread success
of broadcasting there, but so too was the wider appeal of American broadcasting to a
mass market. Despite the Depression radio continued to expand in the United States.
This was also the case in the United Kingdom, although it took much longer for
broadcasting to penetrate the aforementioned working class. And the reason was much
the same as that applying to records…it was just too expensive. It wasn’t only the
initial cost of the set (after all second-hand sets were available), but also the annual
licence fee of ten shillings (about £20 now) that put people off. Even so, by the early
1930s – and despite the Slump – the upper echelons of the working class began to join
the ranks of ‘listeners-in’ (as they were then called). The trend accelerated throughout
the 1930s, undoubtedly helped by the fact that the quality of radio sets continued to
increase while prices remained virtually static. Perhaps reluctantly, the BBC took note
of the fact that its audiences were becoming more culturally diverse and that a
substantial proportion craved less highbrow fare. In fact variety and light music
programmes did increase substantially up to the mid-1930s. Even so, this was far
removed from the American experience – in the early 1930s around one-third of all
radio programmes were devoted to dance music. The major networks between them
had twenty-six weekly coast-to-coast programmes featuring ‘name’ bands. Top
bandleaders, like Paul Whiteman and Guy Lombardo, could attract listening audiences
of around fifteen million.
The other great attraction on American radio was ‘variety’. This term was used
in both countries, although the live stage shows in America from which radio variety
emanated were known as ‘vaudeville’. The big stars of American vaudeville gravitated
to radio in ever increasing numbers after the mid-1920s. Just as well because after
1930 the number of vaudeville theatres in America started to decrease at an alarming
rate. Even the very best of vaudeville, such as the famous Ziegfeld Follies, was under
threat by the mid-1930s. It wasn’t just radio that brought this about – Hollywood had
much to do with it after the invention of the ‘all-talking, all-singing, all-dancing’ film
musical in the late 1920s
Although British variety stars also worked in broadcasting in increasing
numbers from the late 1920s, the live variety show did not go the same way as its
American counterpart. Indeed, British variety theatres would remain a force to be
reckoned with until the mid-1950s. Oddly enough, it was the demand on the part of
British radio audiences to see radio stars performing that kept the theatres open. British
films of the time simply could not cater for this in the same way that Hollywood did.
The decline of American vaudeville virtually dried-up what had been for decades a
flourishing exchange of variety artists between the US and UK, so the question of
restricting such exchanges never arose.
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Unlike the tension that came to exist between the AFM and the MU, their
musical theatre counterparts – Actors’ Equity Association (US) and Equity (UK)
continued to enjoy an excellent relationship throughout the 1930s. The tradition of
exchanges, both of shows and individual performers, was too strong to succumb to
external pressure. Hollywood musicals certainly had a detrimental effect on live
Broadway musicals and the number of shows produced annually declined dramatically
after 1930. This was due as much to the lack of investment funds as to the output of
Hollywood. As with musicians, there were always more actors, singers and dancers
available than jobs in ‘the business’. Inevitably, many of the top Broadway stars, like
Fred Astaire, gravitated to Hollywood after 1930.
Another aspect of popular culture that, like radio and films, continued to
flourish despite the Depression was dancing. Again, there were differences between the
British and American experiences, but this time not so great. In both countries, public
dance halls were established in all cities and major towns and elsewhere ad hoc dances
were regularly organised. Of course listening to the radio must have kept some
potential dance hall customers at home, but this was probably off-set by those drawn to
dancing by Hollywood musicals. In one respect the British approach to ballroom
dancing was unique – the degree of formality that had come to exist among its really
serious devotees. Indeed, in some respects it was being turned into a competitive sport
rather than merely being a means of having a good time.
Records, films, theatres, radio, dance halls, and a whole host of related genres
depended on popular music for their success, and by implication musicians and singers
and others to produce that music. Obviously…but what is not always appreciated now
is fact that the musical entity that concerns us – the danceband – was an important
component in major parts of popular entertainment not immediately concerned with the
dance floor. Later, we will be able to use the terms ‘swing band’ and ‘jazz combo’ in
addition to ‘danceband’, but not just yet.
All the above will be expanded as necessary during our continuing
investigation into the career of Bert Ambrose, who was last encountered preparing for
the busy festive season that would herald-in the 1930s. Just as we cannot keep referring
to the great events that dominated newspaper headlines and preoccupied (most) people
at the time, neither will it be possible to provide any meaningful account of Ambrose’s
personal life, but for a different reason. Space restrictions preclude the former, lack of
genuine evidence the latter. There are important aspects of Ambrose’s career that are
not known for certain and can either be ignored or speculated upon and this inevitably
results in glaring omissions and factual errors.
This has to be accepted in any area of investigation involving much diversity
and a degree of controversy. Over time new evidence comes to light and additions and
corrections to previous accounts can be made. However, it is unlikely that any
meaningful details about Ambrose’s private life in the 1930s will now emerge, and
speculation in this area is usually pointless. Even so, it is not necessary to avoid all
references to Ambrose’s non-musical activities, particularly as certain of these do have
a direct bearing on his career.
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One thing however is certain - the years between 1931 and 1939 were the most
meaningful in Ambrose’s fifty-year career, and 1931 was a very significant one indeed.
This was the year that the Ambrose Orchestra began to achieve international success.
This came about primarily through the release of some of Ambrose’s HMV records
outside the UK, most importantly in America. However, it was broadcasting and stage
appearances that enabled the combined talents of the band to shine. Saturday night
radio shows continued as before, attracting increasingly appreciative audiences, and
the demand to see and hear the band perform ‘live’ was becoming irresistible. Of
course Ambrose was still obliged to preside over what came to be called the ‘Starlight
Room’ of the May Fair Hotel, and this restricted his sphere of operations somewhat.
Nevertheless after 1931 no single venue would be able to claim his exclusive attention.
Before taking a look at Ambrose’s output around this time we must consider
the line-up of the band as it was in early 1931: AMBROSE & HIS MAY FAIR ORCHESTRA
Director:
Brass:
Reeds:
Rhythm:
Strings:
Vocals:
Arrangers:
Joe Crossman (alto/clarinet/baritone/tenor)
Jack Shields (alto/clarinet)
Joe Jeanette (tenor/clarinet/flute/+arranger)
Joe Brannelly (guitar/banjo)
Max Bacon (drums/xylophone)
Dick Escott (string bass/tuba)
Ernie Lewis (violin)
Eric Siday (violin)*
Reg Leopold (violin)*
Sam Browne
Ella Logan*
The Three Ginx*
Sid Phillips
Arthur Lally
Although Lew Stone was essentially a freelance arranger, much of his work at
this time was for Ambrose and related either to the main orchestra or bands that came
within Ambrose’s orbit. He was generally regarded as ‘second-in-command’ and
Ambrose made no secret of his reliance on Lew’s advice when it came to formulating
musical policy. However, it was Ernie Lewis who deputised for Ambrose at the May
Fair as and when required.
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Sid Phillips was also in a somewhat unique position in the arranging team as he
was also staff arranger for the Lawrence Wright music publishing concern. It seems
probable that arrangements he made for Ambrose at this time were under the aegis of
the publisher. Even so, these arrangements were ‘exclusive’ rather than ‘stock’ and he
is known to have attended the arrangers’ conferences that Ambrose held on a regular
basis.
Arthur Lally returned to the arranging team on a part-time basis having
patched-up any differences between himself and Ambrose. This was a precursor to
returning full-time later in the year, but for now he played saxophone with the Savoy
Orpheans (the principal danceband at the Savoy Hotel).
By early 1931 Ambrose had around thirty titles listed in the HMV catalogue
and could now be said to have made it into the mainstream of recorded popular music.
Unlike under previous labels his record sales were now becoming significant, although
there seems little doubt that he was relegated to a somewhat subsidiary position in the
pecking-order of recording artists at HMV. So far as dancebands under contract to
HMV were concerned pride of place went to Jack Hylton who exercised almost
absolute control over what he recorded (and probably what other bands could record).
HMV also had a very good, and increasingly popular, house band under the direction
of Ray Noble. Moreover a number of American bands that recorded for the Victor
label had some of their titles issued in the UK under the aegis of HMV. These included
– Paul Whiteman, Duke Ellington, Rudy Vallee’s Connecticut Yankees, and Fred
Waring’s Pennsylvanians. Despite all this, Ambrose had little to complain about and he
was certainly getting a much better deal than during his previous stint with HMV in
1928/9.
Something that should be emphasised at this stage is that Ambrose only
recorded a fraction of his current library of arrangements. The best estimate that can be
made is that approximately 25% of the arrangements that were commissioned between
1931 and 1939 got to be recorded. The titles of some of the unrecorded arrangements
are known and although we can’t be sure what they sounded like there is no doubt that
much of significance has been lost to posterity. This particularly applies to the band’s
instrumental output from the mid-1930s to the end of the decade, but in the early 1930s
what Ambrose did record was quite representative of his overall output, whether
provided exclusively for the dance floor or also for radio audiences. Whereas until the
end of the 1920s the vocal content in danceband recordings was a side issue, by the
early 1930s it had become of prime importance. Also, it has to be appreciated that by
this time dancebands had come to be accepted by the record buying public as part of
the pop music mainstream. Consequently, it becomes expedient to specify vocalists
alongside the recorded titles to which they contributed. Is this unfair to the
arranging/instrumental talent also involved in danceband recordings? Yes – but
perhaps the fact that danceband vocalists were (usually) the lowest paid members in
any band mattered more at the time. Also, it’s worth noting that very few band
vocalists got record label or catalogue credits until the end of the decade.
The best way to appreciate Ambrose’s recorded output is, of course, to listen to
it. The big problem with this is the shear quantity of recordings that were issued after
1930, and the fact that such a large proportion of them are worthy of consideration.
And while it is true that as the years go by more and more Ambrose titles are being reissued in the form of CD compilations, there remains the need to put at least a
representative sample of them into some kind of context.
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This will be done at intervals throughout the rest of this account of Ambrose’s
recording career, starting right now with those in the HMV catalogue in early 1931.
[Vocal by Sam Browne…Moanin’ For You, Cryin’ For The Carolines, Blue Is The
Night, A Bench In The Park, ‘Leven Thirty Saturday Night, Shoo The Hoodoo Away
(+ Ella Logan), The ‘Free And Easy’, My Baby Just Cares For Me, A Girlfriend Of
A Boyfriend Of Mine (+Three Ginx), I Want A Little Girl, If I Could Be With You
(+Ella Logan), I’m Doin’ That Thing, A Japanese Dream, Good Evenin’, What Good
Am I Without You, I’m In The Market For You, My Sunshine, More Than You
Know, Bye Bye Blues, The Love Waltz, A Little Love Song.
On the whole these HMV recordings are representative of the very best that
British dancebands were capable of in the early 1930s. And it’s doubtful whether any
‘authentic’ jazz band on either side of the Atlantic could improve much on the band’s
version of ‘Leven Thirty Saturday Night (a Lew Stone arrangement). Ambrose
certainly gave Jack Hylton a run for his money, and this means that what the band
achieved at the time compares favourably with the best output of the top American
commercial bands. Nor is this tribute to the Ambrose outfit made entirely with the
benefit of hindsight…record reviewers at the time said much the same thing. Despite
all this admiration it has to be admitted that they were essentially commercial
recordings - part of the pop culture of the time. There was no chance of recording any
of the jazz-oriented instrumental numbers that Ambrose may have included in his
broadcasts. Even so, the inclusion in the band of top jazzmen like Sylvester Ahola,
Danny Polo, Joe Crossman and Ted Heath was not entirely wasted despite the
commercial limitations in force at the time.
The need to produce records that would be instant hits was a pressing one for
HMV. Such output maximised profit in the short term…and it was in the short term
that a cash-flow problem was rearing its ugly head. Catering for a huge range of
minority interests – as HMV’s prolific catalogue always had – was now less of an
option. Increasingly, HMV’s approved dealers were having difficulty in shifting the
higher priced labels that represented the more esoteric end of the market. And it was
only these higher prices that justified the production of relatively small batches of
records at any one time. Inevitably, HMV was obliged to cut back and the extensive
pressing facilities at Hayes were scaled down after 1930. However, the fact that record
buying in Britain had remained an essentially middle class pursuit saved the industry
from the catastrophic collapse experienced by its American counterpart. In 1928
American record companies had produced 107,000,000 records – in 1931 the figure
was 7,000,000. A reduction of over 90%! Many American record companies went out
of business. Others survived because their business interests extended beyond the
production of records – for example like Columbia’s into radio and films.
In Britain the need for a degree of consolidation in the record industry had long
been recognised. Nine independent record companies could no longer be justified and
pressure for mergers and take-overs came from the financial interests that underpinned
these concerns. Even so, it was something of a surprise when the two biggest record
concerns in Britain – Columbia and HMV – announced a merger in 1931. The resulting
conglomerate was established under the name of Electrical & Musical Industries (EMI)
and encompassed all kinds of electronic equipment manufacture as well as record
production.
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Just as important was the amalgamation of the respective research departments,
both of which were making significant progress in a number of areas vital to the
continuing success of the British electronics industry. The new EMI Research
Department under Isaac Shoenberg had the services of a number of notable scientists
including Alan Blumlein who developed a highly efficient recording system that
bypassed the American patents and also successfully experimented with stereophonic
recording. After the merger the Columbia record label and catalogue were retained and
also Columbia’s wholesaler-based distribution system. However, record production
was transferred to Hayes, and after November 1931 new recording studios at Abbey
Road, St John’s Wood, were used by both HMV and Columbia recording artists.
The establishment of EMI essentially ended the influence that Jack Hylton had
been able to exert over HMV executives, although he remained a major recording artist
with that label…for the time being. Hylton’s band was the best known British outfit in
America although an attempt to play a live date in Chicago in 1929 had been thwarted
by the AFM. However, incursions into United States show business were always high
on Jack Hylton’s agenda and he wasn’t likely to welcome British rivals also seeking a
slice of the action. Apart from an interest in the American scene, Hylton was building a
solid reputation in Europe, and early in 1931 undertook a Continental tour that
included a celebrated concert in Paris at which a specially commissioned work by
Stravinsky, no less, was performed. Undoubtedly Jack Hylton was the only British
bandleader at this time with a truly international reputation and a serious rival for Paul
Whiteman.
If it was now difficult (though, in theory, not impossible) for British bands to
appear in America the opposite was less so. In mid-January 1931 Ambrose arranged a
cocktail party for African-American bandleader Noble Sissle, whose band had just
completed a successful short-term residency at Ciro’s restaurant. Sissle had spent much
of the 1920s working in association with ragtime pianist Eubie Blake and together they
had written and performed in the highly acclaimed all-Negro stage show ‘SHUFFLE
ALONG’. Ambrose became friendly with Sissle in the early 1920s along with other
members of Harlem’s black show business ‘aristocracy’. Ambrose’s cocktail party was
attended by the Prince of Wales whose interest in jazz remained undiminished.
Ambrose had not been instrumental in bringing-over Noble Sissle’s band, but
in connection with his band booking interests did engage another American band for an
eight-week residency at the Café de Paris. This small outfit was led by West Coast
cornet player Roy Fox. In the early 1920s Fox had played in Art Hickman’s band, and
for a time worked in Hollywood as a musical director. Once in Britain, Fox (and his
glamorous wife) reckoned that London had more to offer than California and decided
to stay. After forming a British band Fox secured a residency at the newly opened
Monseigneur Restaurant and engaged Lew Stone to provide arrangements and play
piano. In many ways Lew Stone was as influential in establishing Roy Fox’s British
orchestra as he had been with Ambrose’s. However, the end-results were different in
each case, and Roy Fox’s reputation hinged (mainly) around the ‘smooth-as-silk’
sounds associated with the ‘sweet’ American bands. Ambrose’s involvement with Roy
Fox ended at the same time as the Café de Paris engagement, although they remained
on friendly terms for the rest of the 1930s. Lew Stone continued to provide
arrangements for the Ambrose band, but no longer co-ordinated the arranging team.
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American bandleaders and musicians may have been welcomed by the patrons
of the venues where they appeared but certainly weren’t by members of the MU. The
MU made strenuous efforts to persuade the Ministry of Labour to reject American
musicians’ applications for work permits, all to no avail. With unemployment
spiralling and a financial crisis looming these were difficult times for the British
government. And it was the financial aspect that induced caution. To avoid a collapse
of the UK banking system a big US loan would be essential, and as 1931 progressed
such a collapse seemed ever more possible. Nothing that might upset American
sensibilities could be contemplated, however trivial in the wider scheme of things.
Given the circumstances of the time it was perhaps less than auspicious that a
brand new hotel was nearing completion not far from the May Fair. This was the
Dorchester Hotel and it occupied a site in Park Lane that had previously been a
Georgian mansion. Like the May Fair, the Dorchester was part of the Gordon Hotels
group and construction work had been going on since early 1929. Fortunately, the
funds for its construction had been raised before the onset of the Slump and by the time
the current financial difficulties hit the business world it was nearing completion. The
Dorchester would be the last great hotel to be opened in Central London before the
Second World War and is typical of steel-framed, stone-clad, hotels in the Art Deco
style. In this respect it differs from the May Fair, the exterior of which is elegant but
plain. In each case at this time the interiors matched the exteriors. However, both
hotels were partially (but still importantly) aimed at the American market. Despite the
Depression significant numbers of Americans still made the five-day (minimum)
voyage across the Atlantic to vacation in Britain. The main attraction was the
availability of high-quality alcohol at reasonable prices, and at high-class venues where
it wasn’t necessary to ‘knock twice and ask for Joe’. Of course the British licensing
laws were somewhat quirky, but at least everyone spoke more or less the same lingo.
As well as fronting the band at the May Fair, Ambrose also had a separate
contract to supply bands for other establishments within the Gordon Hotels group.
(Strictly speaking this contract had been awarded to Ambrose Orchestras Ltd.)
Consequently it was assumed that Ambrose would supply the band for the Dorchester
when it opened in April. Sir Francis Towle, the managing director of Gordon Hotels,
did indeed discuss this matter with Ambrose but had his own ideas about the kind of
band required. Essentially Towle wanted an American outfit led by a singing
bandleader…something along the lines of Rudy Vallee & His Connecticut Yankees.
Ambrose put out feelers among his New York contacts and came up with the name of
Phil Arnold. Now Arnold was no stranger to the London scene, indeed he had been
part of the vocal group that Ambrose used on some of his Decca recordings in 1929,
and had contributed a couple of classy solo vocals around the same time. After
returning to the US he had formed a band that had good jazz credentials but still kept
dancers happy. Negotiations with Phil Arnold proved unfruitful and because Sir
Francis and Ambrose were unable to agree on a suitable alternative the distinguished
hotelier took it upon himself to handle the appointment. Ambrose was to be bypassed…for the time being.
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About six weeks before the Dorchester was due to open it was announced that
its resident bandleader was to be Melville Gideon…a man with no previous experience
in the danceband world. Fifty-three year old Gideon was an American who had
become a successful vaudeville artist in the early years of the 20th Century. After the
First World War he transferred his talents to the British stage and eventually formed a
theatrical troupe called The Co-Optimists. Their speciality was ‘review’ (songs,
sketches and dances loosely based on topical events), and by the late-1920s they had
become extremely popular. Gideon had also brought his brand of wit to radio
audiences and in 1930 a feature-length film called ‘THE CO-OPTIMISTS’ was
released.
Melville Gideon, accompanied by a Gordon Hotels publicity executive,
travelled to New York in March ‘in order to recruit three key players and a vocal
group’, according to press reports. They don’t appear to have had much success
because the band that eventually opened at the Dorchester doesn’t appear to have
contained any star American jazzmen. Indeed, only its lead trumpet player – Max
Goldberg – could lay claim to outstanding jazz credentials. No recordings of this band
have come to light, although some late-night broadcasts from the Dorchester did take
place in the summer. Despite, or perhaps because of, his undoubted theatrical talents,
Melville Gideon was unable to please the dancers at the hotel and at the end of October
he was axed. Rather than risk a further fiasco Sir Francis ate humble pie and awarded
the Dorchester contract to Ambrose’s organisation.
The band that Ambrose put into the Dorchester was the Blue Lyres and once
again it was led by Arthur Lally. He had returned full-time to the Ambrose fold in the
spring of 1931 when the Blue Lyres was re-formed for an engagement at L’Hermitage
Restaurant (formerly the New Princes Restaurant). Although Ambrose never fronted
the Blue Lyres and Arthur Lally ran it on a day-to-day basis, there was never any doubt
as to who actually controlled it. Here’s the line-up: AMBROSE’S BLUE LYRES
Arthur Lally (alto/clarinet/tenor /+arranger/+leader)
Peter Rush (alto/clarinet/+violin)
Eric Linden (tenor/baritone/clarinet)
Arthur Niblo (trumpet)
Eric Walker (piano)
Bert Hadley (guitar)
Dave Exford (bass)
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Ambrose’s Saturday night broadcasts from the May Fair continued on a weekly
basis. The time allocated to each broadcast varied between 45 and 105 minutes but
they always ended at midnight. The programmes were transmitted from the Daventry
National transmitter and some Regional transmitters. Some caution has to be exercised
over quoting figures for the number of listeners but it was thought to peak in the winter
at around eight-million after 11pm when people arriving home after a night-out joined
less adventurous souls who had stayed at home. Of course programmes that
coincidentally went out on ‘special’ days attracted even bigger audiences and there was
a seasonal factor that ensured fewer listeners in the summer. Over the 1931 Christmas
break Ambrose was allotted Christmas Eve in addition to Boxing Day (which was a
Saturday). Ambrose’s Blue Lyres also broadcast from the Dorchester on a weekly
basis.
To have a radio audience approaching 20% of the population would be
considered pretty good by today’s standards, but of course in the early 1930s there was
little choice, particularly late at night. Although radio was no longer considered to be a
‘miracle’ for many it remained out of reach, including a large section of the working
class. A poor household was no more likely to have a radio than a telephone, and in the
early 1930s poverty of a kind we now associate with Third World countries was rife in
some parts of Britain. Around 20% of the workforce was unemployed at this time, but
this overall figure masks the unevenness of the phenomena. Industrial areas based on
coal, steel, textiles and shipbuilding – and most agricultural areas – suffered
disproportionately. In the South East and parts of the Midlands unemployment was
much lower because in these areas light industries, newly established during the 1920s,
were making things for which there was still a demand, despite the international downturn in trade. London also possessed a huge workforce involved with commercial
services that the world simply couldn’t do without despite the Depression. For most of
the middle class, and that part of the working class involved with new industries, the
1930s were not filled with the despair so graphically described in George Orwell’s
saga The Road to Wigan Pier, or the film ‘LOVE ON THE DOLE’. The point is that
this particular 20% wasn’t the same 20% that tuned-in to hear late-night dance music
from the May Fair Hotel. Radio at this time catered for the middle class and the more
prosperous section of the working class…it was not yet part of a mass media.
Few significant details of Ambrose’s radio broadcasts from the May Fair are
available, although play-lists were prepared by the BBC each week to cover
performing rights regulations. According to Ambrose almost everything was left to his
discretion, there was no BBC producer responsible for content. Sam Browne acted as
compère as well as performing vocals. Additional vocalists were added especially for
these broadcasts – Ella Logan and the Three Ginx on a regular basis and others
occasionally. However at this time the May Fair band was only instrumentally
augmented on special occasions, such as for a Christmas show. Despite having to
primarily provide music for dancing, Ambrose nevertheless managed to include a fair
proportion of instrumental material that it would have been commercially impossible to
record. Also, most of the top hits of the time were covered – many more than those
allocated to Ambrose for recording purposes. Anecdotal evidence suggests that some
broadcast items that were popular songs of the time were treated as instrumentals by
the Ambrose band.
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By this time audio technology had advanced to the stage where it was feasible
to use a public address system and also broadcast from the same enclosed space in
which the loudspeakers were functioning. When first tried a couple of years earlier
feedback and distortion problems had arisen, but the introduction of special
microphones and correct positioning of microphones and speakers largely solved the
problem. PA systems also started to be used when bands were not broadcasting, which
released vocalists from the need to use megaphones. This in turn led to the appearance
of female vocalists on a regular basis because it had previously been considered
unedifying for a woman to use a megaphone. Amplified vocals did not become
widespread overnight, and even at the May Fair a girl on the bandstand was still
something of a novelty in 1931 and only occurred during broadcasts.
Weekly broadcasts continued until the end of July and recording sessions for
HMV at intervals over the first six months of the year. Ambrose’s contract with HMV
was renewed for a further year in March 1931, just before the formation of EMI. Of the
twenty or so titles released in the first half of 1931 the following were particularly
successful: [Vocal by Sam Browne… Blue Again, The Peanut Vendor, Half Caste Woman,
Wabash Moon, Out Of Nowhere, I’m Through With Love (+Ella Logan), Little Girl,
I Surrender Dear, Smile Darn Ya Smile (+Carlyle Cousins), Moonlight Saving Time,
Whistling In The Dark, When Your Lover Has Gone, Ho Hum, Leave The Rest To
Nature, Wrap Your Troubles In Dreams, Just One More Chance. [Vocal by Ella
Logan… Would You Like To Take A Walk, I’m An Unemployed Sweetheart.
[Instrumental…Star Dust (Ambrose-violin).
One essentially unique title among these releases is Sid Phillips’ instrumental
arrangement of Star Dust. Ambrose had been using this in his broadcasts since late
1929 at which time he was the first bandleader to introduce the tune to British
audiences. In 1930 the song version was published in Britain, but Ambrose continued
to feature his instrumental version and it became very popular among dancers at the
May Fair. But this was not the only arrangement of Star Dust that Ambrose used –
others included one by Bert Read featuring a prominent piano solo, and another by
Ambrose himself for solo violin. Later, a swing arrangement with a vocal chorus was
recorded by the Ambrose band. Like Body And Soul and a few other tunes, Star Dust
remained in Ambrose’s repertoire for the rest of his band leading career. The recorded
version also appears to be the only pure instrumental that Ambrose was allowed to cut
while under contract to HMV…a rare privilege indeed for 1931.
Although Sid Phillips’ contribution to Ambrose’s library of arrangements was
no doubt much appreciated, all his arranging work at this time was confined to titles
owned by the publisher Lawrence Wright, for whom Sid was staff arranger. Other
bands and solo performers also benefited from Sid’s arranging skills, and he also
undertook session work on a range of saxophones and clarinet. Arthur Lally, another
important contributor of arrangements recorded by Ambrose, also worked in a
freelance capacity. From within the band Bert Read and Joe Jeanette provided many
fine arrangements. But, of course, it was Lew Stone who made the most significant
contribution, not just because of the excellence of his orchestrating technique but also
because he established a distinct and instantly recognisable ‘sound identity’ for the
band.
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Nor was Lew Stone slow to introduce new sounds, like his arrangement of The
Peanut Vendor - a ‘rumba’. Unlike other Latin American dance crazes of the late
‘twenties and early ‘thirties (such as the ‘guajira’ and ‘danzon’) the rumba was more
than an overnight wonder. A combination of African and Caribbean rhythms, the
rumba originated in Cuba and was popularised in Hollywood musicals. Not as a
ballroom dance, but as a basis for colourful dance routines. In Cuba, couples did dance
an authentic version of the rumba but the steps for this were far too flamboyant for
export and a refined version called the ‘son’ got taken-up by professional dancers.
Even this was too complex for the average dancer, so the popularised version of the
rumba was in fact the ‘rumba-foxtrot’. Like the tango, the rumba had to be transformed
into foxtrot mode in order to make it widely acceptable. Other exotic rhythms also
appeared in the early 1930s (all usually translatable into foxtrot mode) including the
‘bolero’, ‘beguine’, and ‘pasodoble’. However, it was the rumba that really caught-on
and became an essential component in the repertoire of ‘thirties dance bands.
Apart from the addition of the rumba-foxtrot, mainstream ballroom dancing in
the early 1930s still revolved around the waltz, quickstep (fast foxtrot), foxtrot (proper)
and slow foxtrot. Occasional inclusions such as the ‘slow blues’, tango and the dances
mentioned on the previous page could all be danced using foxtrot steps, so in essence
there were only two distinct dance steps in use - waltz and foxtrot, at least for ordinary
dancers. Of course there were some dancers who were far from ‘ordinary’ and both
amateur and professional ballroom dancers who took what they did very seriously
indeed were by this time a force to be reckoned with.
Correct steps for mainstream dances, and correct tempos for the dance tunes
serving them, were standardised by the Imperial Society of Teachers of Dancing
(ISTD) and just as the Vatican had the Jesuits, so too did the ISTD have an equally
formidable offshoot called the Ancient Order of Fox-trotters (AOF). The AOF
concerned itself with such ‘heresies’ as incorrect tempo and inappropriate
arrangements of dance tunes. Two phenomena against which it continually railed were
- the inclusion of ‘hot’ instrumental solos, and any kind of vocal. So far as competitive
ballroom dancing was concerned they had a point, but their objections became
generalised and any band deemed to play music for dancing became fair game for the
attentions of the AOF. Perhaps some people did actually roll-back the living room
carpet and dance to music on the radio at this time, but it’s a fair bet that most didn’t.
Be that as it may, the AOF used a variety of effective tactics to make its various
objections known and could not be ignored by either the BBC or record companies. So
far as the latter were concerned dance orchestras were too much part of mainstream
pop for the vocal to be dispensed with, but there is no doubt that exuberant improvised
jazz solos came to be regarded as ‘exhibitionist’ unless kept within strictly defined
limits. One thing that recording executives did pay particular attention to was tempo,
and bands who had the temerity to record numbers that didn’t comply with
standardised tempo requirements risked having such recordings rejected.
Apart from Latin American rhythms, other musical forms emerged around this
time and either quickly came and went, or remained as essential parts of the danceband
repertoire. Spanish music had always been popular but after an abridged version of
Ravel’s Bolero became a hit around 1930 others followed, such as Lady Of Spain, a big
hit in 1931.
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Mexican tunes also came into vogue, due mainly to Hollywood musicals
supposedly set South of the Border. Examples from this time are - Yours (Quiréme
Mucho), and Adios. The Caribbean ‘calypso’ also had a brief fling in the early 1930s,
a notable example being Mama Don’t Want No Peas An’ Rice. Cowboy – or
‘hillbilly’– songs had been reasonably popular with urban audiences since the early
1920s, but after 1930 they became very popular indeed, and because of this
dancebands could no longer ignore them, or at any rate the emasculated versions
emanating from Tin Pan Alley such as the 1931 hit - When It’s Roundup Time In
Texas. Novelty songs had also been around for a long time but only recently started to
feature in the danceband repertoire. Examples from 1931 were Eleven More Months
And Ten More Days, and She Lived Next To A Firehouse. How these disparate musical
genres were adapted for dancing remains a tribute to the skills of band arrangers of the
time. Even so, the AOF clearly had a point!
‘Jazz’ and ‘blues’ were terms that came into their own in popular music during
the 1920s but rolled a lot less easily off tongues in the early 1930s. Of course, the
musical essentials of both jazz and blues influenced much of what came out of Tin Pan
Alley, Broadway and Hollywood, in some cases with a reasonable degree of
authenticity. Even so, those who sought to make a good living from performing
authentic jazz and blues in the land from which these musical forms sprang had rather
a hard time. Some top American jazz instrumentalist (both black and white) unwilling
to compromise with the trend towards ‘sweeter’ sounds, like King Oliver, continued to
function in semi-obscurity. Others, like Louis Armstrong, retained their jazz
credentials despite drifting into general entertainment. A few, like Duke Ellington,
turned compromise into an advanced art form. On the whole, black bands had the
advantage of catering for a less-conservative African-American clientele. Inevitably,
this produced a significant minority interest among white Americans. Few top white
jazz instrumentalists could afford to keep the ‘pure jazz’ flag flying. Those who did,
like Mez Mezzrow and Eddie Condon, often became bitter in the process, because
those who didn’t reaped the rewards that usually come from compromise.
To some extent it was a conservative approach that ‘saved’ jazz-oriented dance
music from the complete embrace of ‘sweet’ music in the early 1930s. Paul Whiteman
found it quite impossible to transcend the style that had brought him fame and fortune
over the preceding ten years. Nor was he prepared to ‘abdicate’ as King of Jazz (a film
with this title featuring his band had been released in 1930). With four major network
broadcasts a week and still healthy record sales, Whiteman remained a force to be
reckoned with in American popular music, if only because he retained the loyalty of a
large number of fans who weren’t particularly interested in new developments. So far
as American radio shows were concerned in the early 1930s Whiteman’s only serious
challengers were the unashamedly ‘sweet’ bands led by Guy Lombardo, Wayne King
and Fred Waring - their saccharine sounds complemented the dulcet tones of the
multitude of radio crooners with whom they competed for domination of the airwaves.
Most top black bands, and a few white ones, managed to buck the trend
towards sweeter sounds, at least partially. And it was these bands that essentially paved
the way to the Swing Era. Fletcher Henderson and Don Redman continued to lead
excellent bands that extended the innovations they had introduced in the 1920s.
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Another African-American talent to emerge in the early 1930s was Chick
Webb who presided over one of the finest jazz-oriented dancebands of all time at New
York’s Roseland Ballroom. With little or no radio exposure (Redman’s band was an
exception) there was little appreciation among the general public of what these bands
were achieving at the time, and as usual it was white copycats who reaped the
commercial rewards.
Two white proto-swing bands of the early 1930s were the Casa Loma Orchestra
and the Isham Jones Orchestra. There were a few others, but these two reached radio
audiences to a greater extent, and it was radio rather than records or live appearances
that counted most in the popularity stakes at this time. Unlike other top bands of the
era, these two outfits were not afraid to innovate and although commercial
considerations predominated in both cases, much of what they did went a long way to
matching their black counterparts.
In July 1931 Ambrose wrote an article for the Melody Maker in which he
lambasted those who suggested that dance musicians in Britain were facing a crisis due
to the large numbers ‘supposedly’ out of work. According to Ambrose many of these
were part-time semi-professionals most of whom actually had jobs outside the music
profession. This might well have been the case, because the MU admitted semi-pro
musicians into membership. Now Ambrose was himself a member of the MU and
supported most of its aims, particularly those relating to minimum rates and working
conditions. However, he made little headway in arguing against the inclusion of semipro players and the MU never adopted the stringent entry requirements of its American
counterpart, the AFM. Ambrose recalled how it had been necessary to undertake a year
of intensive training and study in New York before obtaining his AFM ‘ticket’. He
clearly felt very strongly about all this and the article is peppered with phrases like:
‘We must weed-out the beachcombing element’, and: ‘The duds must be dumped’.
Having disposed of the semi-pros Ambrose then turned to bandleaders in general:
‘Unfortunately in England we suffer from a terrible dearth of leaders who have any
quality or consistency’. The article finished with an epigram: ‘Those who aspire to
stardom must be able to follow a star’. Presumably the ‘star’ Ambrose considered
most worthy of following was himself! This article generated a great deal of heated
debate at the time and didn’t exactly endear Ambrose to a significant proportion of the
Melody Maker’s 80,000 readers who either were or aspired to be semi-pro musicians.
Ambrose’s unhelpful polemic was in distinct contrast to the entirely positive
contributions that many of his sidemen had made to the Melody Maker over the years.
The paper first appeared in 1926 and at first was little more than a house journal for
music publisher Lawrence Wright. Its first editor was the somewhat enigmatic Edgar
Jackson who at this stage in his long jazz-related career subscribed to the theory that
while African-Americans had undoubtedly originated a crude form of jazz the future
development of this musical form rested with white musicians. (Another notable
advocate of this theory was Fred Elizalde.) The Melody Maker soon became an
influential trade paper for musicians working in popular music and apart from
danceband matters also catered for brass and military bands, light music orchestras and
accordionists. Among the many services that the Melody Maker provided for its
readership was a stream of articles by top performers and arrangers, and for aspiring
jazz and dance musicians these must have been of estimable value.
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Members of the Ambrose band who contributed between 1926 and 1931
included: - Joe Crossman, Henry Levine, Jack Miranda, Sylvester Ahola, Joe
Brannelly, Max Bacon, Joe Jeanette and Arthur Lally. Interestingly, the Melody Maker
had a small but significant readership in America, particularly in New York. Although
basically a trade paper it also appealed to jazz and dance music fans and was largely
responsible for initiating the ‘rhythm club’ movement that emerged in the early 1930s,
and many other jazz-related activities over the years.
Apart from the bands at the May Fair and Dorchester, Ambrose also continued
to control bands at other venues, and to supply bands for special ‘gigs’ such as balls
and parties. His band booking agency – Ambrose Orchestras Ltd – was by now one of
the ‘big two’ concerns in the West End undertaking this kind of work. The other was
the Harris-Aaronson Organisation, a partnership between society bandleaders Jack
Harris and Abe Aaronson. Harris had come over from America in 1927 to lead the
band at the Embassy Club, a position he obtained after Ambrose relinquished control.
Aaronson was also an American, and for a time in the 1920s had played sax and
clarinet in Ambrose’s Embassy band. The Ritz and Grosvenor House hotels came
within their sphere of interest and their regular ‘one-off’ specialities included the
annual Chelsea Arts Ball.
Jack Hylton also supplied bands for hotels, restaurants and clubs but appears to
have avoided the kind of society work that might have tarnished his image as a ‘man of
the people’. And with good reason, because apart from his sincerely-held left-wing
convictions, Hylton was doing very nicely by catering for audiences at the less esoteric
end of the market. He was also interested in extending his interests into the wider
reaches of show business, and was becoming something of an impresario. By now
Hylton was essentially leading a ‘show band’, and moreover one of the best in the
world. Some commentators at the time (and after) reckoned that it was a more
innovative band than Paul Whiteman’s.
Hylton’s social conscience led him to suggest in the spring of 1931 that a halfdozen or so of the top bandleaders organise a series of Sunday afternoon charity
concerts at the Dominion Theatre (in which he had a financial interest), the proceeds of
which would go to relief funds in areas worst hit by unemployment. Ambrose readily
agreed to participate in this endeavour and joined the organising committee. Press
reports of this project came to the attention of the Lord’s Day Observance Society, a
Sabbatarian pressure group, and objections were duly made to the Lord Chamberlain, a
government official whose duties included the oversight of theatre morality. Laws
dating back to Oliver Cromwell’s time were duly invoked, and the concerts banned.
Hylton was not the kind of person to take this laying down and campaigned to have
these restrictions lifted. Eventually he was successful, but it took almost three years to
achieve.
In the summer of 1931 the Labour government had more important matters to
consider than whether dance music could or could not be played in public on a Sunday.
The financial crisis that had been looming for some months came to a head in August
when a run on the pound threatened to destroy the entire banking system. Controversy
over how to tackle the problem led to the fall of the government and its replacement by
one willing to impose drastic economic measures, including devaluation of the pound,
import tariffs and (supposedly temporary) cuts in unemployment benefits.
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These measures did alleviate the immediate crisis and a combination of
exceptionally low interest rates and some aid for ‘distressed areas’ gradually eased the
worst aspects of the Slump. Although unemployment (and its attendant poverty)
remained high in parts of Britain throughout the 1930s, a remarkable degree of
prosperity was enjoyed by those fortunate enough to inhabit the expanding economies
of the Midlands and the South East.
Ambrose ceased broadcasting from the May Fair at the end of July as the
summer break approached. He would be off the air for six weeks and the Saturday
night slot was temporarily allocated to Melville Gideon’s band at the Dorchester. As
usual the boys in the May Fair band took staggered holidays with subs being brought
in for those on leave. Only Sylvester Ahola exercised the option to take additional
unpaid leave in order to vacation in America. Ambrose also took the whole of August
off and spent most of it in Monte Carlo, returning briefly in mid-August to take part in
the finals of a pro-celebrity golf tournament in which he was matched against José
Jurado, the Argentinean champion.
Legend has it that Ambrose lost £28,000 [about £1,120,000 now] at the gaming
tables in Monte Carlo in the summer of 1931. Whether entirely or partly true, such
exploits were reported-on at regular intervals. Sometimes it was a huge loss on a horse
in the Derby, at other times a marathon poker game was the scene of financial carnage.
In all, Ambrose is supposed to have gambled away approximately £1,000,000 [about
£40,000,000 now] during the 1930s. Even if entirely true, it is important to note that
these gambling losses affected his personal – not business – finances. There is no
evidence that Ambrose ‘soaked’ his own company. Indeed, there were times when he
took little or nothing in the way of a director’s fee and on at least one occasion had to
pump money in from his personal earnings in order to keep it from going under.
Ambrose made no secret of his gambling peccadilloes and didn’t try to hide his
lavish life-style. Other aspects of his personal life were quite another matter. At this
time celebrities in Britain were permitted to enjoy a private life relatively free from
press scrutiny. There were no real equivalents to venomous American gossip
columnists like Alexander Woollcott, Louella Parsons and Hedda Hopper, none of
whom had draconian libel laws to contend with. Even so, that almost nothing is known
for instance about Ambrose’s marriage is rather surprising. About this, all that can be
said here is that it may have taken place in the summer if 1931, that his wife was a
beautiful Irish-American girl called Kitty and by the mid-1930s they had two
daughters. Only a few people at the time, and later, seem to have known that Ambrose
actually was married and over the years speculation sometimes arose as to whether he
would marry this or that girl he was assumed to be dating at the time. Whenever the
press turned the spotlight on Ambrose it was usually in connection with some outrage
that he claimed had been perpetrated on him by some heinous person, or organisation,
or both. His golfing exploits occasionally got some attention, and it didn’t exactly go
unnoticed when he changed from a Bentley to a Rolls Royce…or was it the other way
round?
As the 1931 summer holiday season drew to a close Ambrose had much to
occupy his attention. For starters, there would be the transfer of the Blue Lyres to the
Dorchester, and their replacement at L’Hermitage with another band.
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Also a number of changes in the May Fair line-up would have to be made
following the resignations of Sylvester Ahola (trumpet), Dennis Ratcliffe (trumpet)
and Jack Shields (alto). Lew Stone had also been obliged to scale-down (though not
completely abandon) his involvement with the May Fair band since becoming pianistarranger in Roy Fox’s band at the Monseigneur Restaurant. Moreover, the May Fair
band was due to make a number of important stage appearances in the autumn.
The line-up for the reconstituted band in September 1931 was as follows: AMBROSE & HIS MAY FAIR ORCHESTRA
Director:
Brass:
Reeds:
Rhythm:
Strings:
Vocals:
Arrangers:
Max Goldberg (trumpet/mellophone)
Harry Owen (trumpet)
Joe Cordell (trombone)*
Joe Crossman (alto/clarinet/baritone/+vocals)
Billy Amstell (alto/clarinet)
Joe Jeanette (tenor/clarinet/flute /+arranger)
John Walker (baritone/bass clarinet)*
Joe Brannelly (guitar/banjo)
Max Bacon (drums)
Dick Escott (string bass/tuba)
Neville Bishop (timpani/xylophone)*
Eddie Carroll (piano accordion)*
Ernie Lewis (violin)...et al*
Sam Browne
Phyllis Robins*
The Carlyle Cousins*
Peter Yorke
Arthur Lally
Sid Phillips
Lew Stone
Ronnie Munro
The most significant player to leave the former line-up was Sylvester Ahola,
widely regarded as one of the finest American jazz trumpeters working in Europe at
the time. Originally he had intended to return to London after vacationing in America,
but problems over the renewal of his work permit cast doubt over his long-term future
in Britain and he wired his resignation to Ambrose at the end of August. Ambrose
immediately snapped-up Max Goldberg who was leading the brass section in Melville
Gideon’s ill-fated orchestra at the Dorchester.
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Possibly disappointed over not being promoted to first trumpet, Dennis
Ratcliffe also quit in early September. Ratcliffe’s replacement – Harry Owen – was
brought in at the suggestion of Max Goldberg, the two having worked together
intermittently since the late 1920s. To provide additional timbre to the brass section’s
sound Ambrose added an occasional second trombone. Ted Heath continued to provide
improvised solos, and Joe Cordell, when present, reinforced notated passages. At this
point in the band’s history the trombone(s) remained part of a unified brass section.
Jack Shields for some unknown reason also quit the band at the end of August
(destination unknown). His replacement was a twenty-year old all-round reed player
called Billy Amstell. Along with his brother Mick, Billy learned to play sax and
clarinet while still a child in East London and after leaving school worked in a juvenile
band. Subsequently he played saxophone in Herman Darewski’s large orchestra and
then for a time played sax and clarinet in the resident band at the Glasgow Playhouse
Ballroom. At the invitation of Jack Harris, Billy returned to London and joined the
band at the Grosvenor House Hotel. Apart from playing in the hotel band, he also
undertook session work and played in jazz clubs. It was in connection with these two
latter activities that he became associated with Spike Hughes. Hughes was a jazz
musician, composer arranger and (occasional) bandleader with advanced ideas, and
also a major contributor to the Melody Maker. At the time he was working for the
theatrical impresario C. B. Cochran and playing bass in his own jazz club band. It was
while jamming in Hughes’ band that Billy Amstell first came to the attention of Joe
Brannelly and subsequently Ambrose.
Billy Amstell’s alto style was somewhat different to Joe Crossman’s and in
both his sax and clarinet playing resembled Jimmy Dorsey. Although Joe tended to
‘hog’ all available sax solos, Billy did get some featured spots on clarinet and
occasionally tenor (because Joe Jeanette didn’t do ‘hot’ solos). Another attempt to add
depth to the overall sound of the band when playing in concert-mode was the
occasional inclusion of John Walker on baritone sax (presumably playing in tandem
with the tenor, but lower). He also played base clarinet in the flute/ clarinet ‘choir’ that
was noted by commentators at the time but has so far proved difficult to detect on
available recordings.
The regular rhythm section remained unchanged, but again for concert purposes
Ambrose brought in Neville Bishop (who also worked for Jack Hylton). Apart from
playing timpani and xylophone he provided additional percussion for the increasingly
popular Latin American numbers. Moreover, Neville Bishop was the proto-typical
‘clown-musician’ and although his musical abilities were never in doubt he was quite
irrepressible when performing in public, an attribute more appreciated by variety
audiences than danceband aficionados.
As before, Ernie Lewis functioned as Ambrose’s stand-in at the May Fair, and
nominal deputy. He also played, along with two additional violinists, on any
recordings that required ‘straight’ fiddle playing. Additional strings (sometimes
including a harp) were invariably engaged for broadcasts.
In the vocal department Sam Browne remained the only full-time vocalist. Ella
Logan was no longer available as a regular part-timer due to show business
commitments. Eventually she went to America and after a spell with Fred Waring’s
band became successful as a solo artist on American network radio, and later starred on
Broadway and in Hollywood musicals. Her replacement was a young glamorous
blonde from Sheffield called Phyllis Robins, who had been on the stage since the age
of twelve.
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After working in Australia and South Africa Phyllis returned to Britain and
joined a touring review called ‘CLAP YOUR HANDS’. Ambrose saw her in this show
and subsequently supported her first recording efforts for the Filmophone label. Then,
for a while, she sang part-time with the Ambrose Orchestra.
As the Three Ginx vocal group was not always available, Ambrose hired a
virtually unknown vocal trio called the Carlyle Cousins. Like the Three Ginx, the
Carlyle Cousins worked independently but it was Ambrose who gave them their first
big broadcasting and recording chances.
Lew Stone’s full-time position in the Roy Fox band made it impossible for him
to continue the relationship with the May Fair band that had existed since its formation
in 1927. That relationship had been a particularly close and fruitful one. An equivalent
situation in big band history is the role that Don Redman played in the development of
McKinney’s Cotton Pickers between 1927 and 1930. Lew Stone continued to provide
orchestrations for the band but his main function as co-ordinator of the arranging team
and guardian of the band’s ‘sound identity’ was now taken over by Ambrose himself.
To a great extent Ambrose had developed, in a musical sense, along with the orchestra
and by now possessed a greater degree of professional confidence. Now he would be
obliged to co-ordinate the work of seven part-time arrangers (two also working in the
band). Whether it would have been wiser to have appointed a regular chief arranger at
this time is arguable…later it would become less so, as we shall see.
Conscious that the coming stage shows would require a different approach to
the presentation of the band’s music Ambrose hired an arranger with a proven trackrecord in writing material for a show band. This was Peter Yorke who had recently left
Jack Hylton’s arranging team to go freelance. Apart from preparing arrangements for
the augmented orchestra that Ambrose proposed to take out ‘on the road’, Yorke also
wrote a number of arrangements for the regular May Fair band, some of which were
recorded. Ronnie Munro, who also specialised in concert arrangements, now rejoined
the arranging team. The ‘show band’ experience of both these arrangers was put to
immediate use.
Ambrose & His May Fair Orchestra opened for two weeks at the London
Palladium on 12th October 1931. Now the Palladium was essentially a variety theatre
although its traditions were somewhat unique. Unlike most provincial variety theatres,
the Palladium had a resident producer, George Black, and it was his talent that gave the
shows there a degree of overall coherence usually lacking elsewhere. Even so, anyone
wanting to see their favourite artist perform at the Palladium would be obliged to sit
through a number of ‘turns’ that might or might not be of interest. The ‘top-of-the-bill’
turn would be allocated forty-five minutes at most, and it was usually only thirty.
Ambrose was Turn No. 8 and his time allocation forty minutes. In all, sixteen
performances were undertaken over the two weeks – two separate ‘houses’ each
weekday evening and two weekly matinees. Apart from contributing vocals, Sam
Browne acted as compère. Other vocal contributions were provided by the Carlyle
Cousins, and a guest bass-baritone singer called the Great Bernardi. The band had its
full complement of players and the string section included ‘hot’ fiddlers Peter Rush
and Teddy Sinclair, a viola player and a cellist, and harpist Harry Chapman. The
orchestrations were supervised by Peter Yorke and Arthur Lally, and George Black
himself devised and directed Ambrose’s contribution.
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Ambrose was somewhat apprehensive on opening night, possibly recalling his
previous appearance at the Palladium in 1927, which was only moderately successful.
Or perhaps he remembered the time in 1929 when a Palladium audience turned against
American bandleader Abe Lyman. Variety theatre audiences knew what they wanted
and if they didn’t get it reacted accordingly. They were not the same people who dined
and danced at the May Fair Hotel. But Ambrose need not have worried; the show was a
complete success. Indeed, for the entire two weeks the evening performances were
completely ‘sold-out’.
Apart from the music, a great deal of effort went into the visual aspects of the
show, in particular taking advantage of the Palladium’s advanced stage lighting
facilities. As always with George Black’s productions, there was constant and fastpaced action. During ensemble passages the brass players moved their instruments
either up and down, or from left to right, and horn players stood up during their
spotlighted solos...all in best show band fashion. The Carlyle Cousins had three
spectacular dress changes, while band members and Sam Browne wore white tuxedoes.
Everything went according to plan on the opening night. Only Ambrose
appeared to be ill-at-ease… pretending to conduct the band with a baton was not his
preferred stance. The show ended to tumultuous applause and a roar of acclamation,
and this unsettled Ambrose even more and he remained rooted to the spot facing the
orchestra. One of the sax players facing him hissed: ‘For God’s sake, Bert…take a
bow…take a bow’. Eventually Bert did, and all ended well. However it would be some
years before Ambrose developed even a modicum of ‘stage presence’ and he never
really enjoyed participating in stage shows.
The format that George Black devised for Ambrose’s 1931 Palladium stint set
the pattern for most future stage shows involving the full band, regular vocalists and
guest artists, throughout the 1930s and beyond. The ingredients changed but the
formula remained essentially the same. Ambrose now had an orchestra that could
function as a show band when required. And with only a few exceptions the
requirement would occur at regular intervals throughout the decade.
Although by this time the appearance of dancebands on variety theatre stages
was an established practice, it remained controversial. Many musicians working in pit
orchestras resented the intrusion of ‘name’ bands into their domain and so did some pit
band conductors. Some pit bands deserved, and got, credit for the excellence of their
work. The pit bands at the London Palladium and Holborn Empire were two examples
and there were others in the provinces with similar reputations.
One important point is that musicians appearing on-stage were obliged to
obtain membership of the Variety Artists Federation. Because there were many variety
artists who played an instrument as part of their act this posed no great problem and
agreements between the unions concerned had been reached in the late 1920s when
dancebands, following Jack Hylton’s lead, started to appear on variety stages in ever
increasing numbers.
Another point worth noting is that variety audiences had virtually no interest in
instrumental virtuosity without some form of funniness being involved, preferably of
the slapstick kind. Trombones weaving from side to side, trumpets waving up and
down, a tuba waggling about and a ‘conductor’, jumping up and down and thrashing
the air with a two-foot long baton were of much greater interest than the actual sounds
emanating from a ‘successful’ show band. The clown-musician was now achieving
celebrity status within the danceband firmament.
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Following two weeks at the Palladium the show transferred to the Holborn
Empire for one week, followed by one-week stints at Brixton and Finsbury Park. The
shows remained essentially the same, except that Bernardi was replaced by Phyllis
Robins who, not surprisingly, sang different songs. Although once away from the
Palladium, Ambrose entered the less sophisticated territory of common-or-garden
variety, and despite the fact that the format remained almost the same, the shows
continued to attract capacity audiences that were as appreciative as those at the
Palladium.
The difference between the London Palladium and the Holborn Empire was one
of tradition rather than class of audience because Holborn was actually on the fringe of
the West End and attracted much the same crowd as the Palladium. However, the
Holborn Empire was a true variety theatre insofar as it hired-out theatrical facilities on
a weekly basis to independent impresarios who then engaged various ‘turns’, makingup a ‘troupe’ (later called a ‘package’). The troupe would then usually tour for a
season, with various ‘turns’ coming and going according to availability. The theatre (or
the chain to which it belonged) got paid in advance by the impresario whose profit (or
loss) came from the difference between his or her outlay and what came in at the box
office. All the risk was taken by the impresario, who was essentially a speculator.
Often, an impresario and top-line variety artist would be one-and-the-same person,
hiring a number of ‘supporting turns’ and relying on their own drawing-power, and
knowledge of what pleased variety audiences, to mount a successful tour. It was the
overall profitability of an entire tour that mattered rather than the weekly takings,
which might be good or bad for any number of reasons. It was by taking-on the task of
impresario for his own band’s forays into variety that helped propel Jack Hylton to the
summit of show business in Britain. Other bandleaders, including Ambrose, sought to
follow suit.
Just as the variety theatre emerged from the Victorian music hall, so too did
variety audiences spring from the same class of people who had frequented music
halls. In the 1930s it was considered more acceptable to call them hoi polloi rather than
‘the lower orders’, but the sentiment was the same! What variety audiences craved
wasn’t just variety but also excitement, preferably accompanied by a good belly-laugh.
‘Funny-peculiar’ was just as acceptable as ‘funny-ha-ha’, but the absence of either
usually spelled trouble for the ‘turn’ concerned. (One exception to this rule was the
rendering of ‘heart’ songs - tearjerkers like Sonny Boy.) Turns that didn’t please variety
audiences would almost certainly be given ‘the bird’ which meant jeers, cat-calls, slow
hand-claps and sometimes being pelted with pennies. Ambrose was well aware of these
things, and also that as the years went by a greater percentage of radio audiences
consisted of the same kind of people. The best that he could do to accommodate such
uncouth requirements was the inclusion of comedy and novelty songs (both of which
he usually loathed) and these soon made an appearance in the recordings and radio
shows. Much to Ambrose’s embarrassment some of these came to be indelibly linked
to his name and (presumably less unwelcome) clocked-up huge record sales.
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Ambrose’s Saturday night broadcasts from the May Fair continued during his
five-week variety tour (how this was achieved is not clear) and he also held two
recording sessions for HMV in November. Some of Ambrose’s most notable record
releases during the second half of 1931 are shown below.
[Vocal by Sam Browne…I Don’t Know Why (+Phyllis Robins), Love Letters In The
Sand, Cuban Love Song, Yes Yes (+Carlyle Cousins), If They Ever Had An Income
Tax On Love [+Carlyle Cousins], If You Were The Only Girl In The World (+Carlyle
Cousins), They Didn’t Believe Me (+Carlyle Cousins), Sweet And Lovely, Joey The
Clown, Close Your Eyes, The Queen Was In The Parlour, In The Jailhouse Now,
Nevertheless, Carry On, Won’t You Come Home Bill Bailey.
By late 1931 four Ambrose records had been issued on HMV’s American
‘Gramophone’ label. These are the titles concerned: I Want A Little Girl/A Little Love Song, Blue Again/Star Dust, Out Of
Nowhere/ Thank You Most Sincerely, I Found You/Leave The Rest To Nature.
Not exactly the ‘best of the bunch’ but at least Ambrose now had his foot in the
door, and soon it wouldn’t be Jack Hylton pushing against him on the other side. Jack
Hylton left HMV at the end of 1931 apparently due to a difference of opinion with
EMI boss Sir Louis Sterling, though over what aspect of his HMV contract is not
known. Hylton then bought his way into the Decca Record Company and this ensured
him a great deal of influence over his own recorded output and at least some over that
of other Decca artists deemed to be rivals. For Decca boss Edward Lewis it was an
important acquisition, and Hylton’s reputation and cash input undoubtedly improved
the fortunes of Decca at a time when the Slump was at its height. As a member of the
Decca board of directors, Hylton became involved in Decca’s attempt to take over
Brunswick/UK, which had an important connection with Brunswick/US. This was
achieved in 1932 and subsequently provided an American outlet for Decca’s top
recording artists including, of course, Jack Hylton.
In the early 1930s Jack Hylton was one of only two British bandleaders to have
a sizable following in the US, the other being Ray Noble. In December 1931 Hylton
was chosen to make the first live broadcast by a British danceband to America via the
transatlantic cable. The hook-up was between the BBC in London and NBC in New
York, and from New York by landlines to various radio stations across the country. In
order to accommodate the various time zones and reach American listeners at
reasonable times (early evening on the West Coast – late evening on the East Coast)
Hylton was obliged to broadcast his twenty-five minute show at 3am. The broadcast
was sponsored by the Lucky Strike cigarette company and was deemed to be a great
success. Later, other bands would take part in these live hook-up programmes all of
which required working in the small hours in order to overcome the time difference
problem. Of course, the same problem affected transmissions within the United States
and were only solved by the introduction of transcription recording a technique that
wasn’t perfected until the mid-1930s.
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Finally for the year 1931 we take a look at the top hits for that year not
recorded by Ambrose but likely to have been featured by the band: Adios, As Time Goes By, Blues In My Heart, Dream A Little Dream Of Me, Goodnight
Sweetheart, Heartaches, Lady Of Spain, Lazy River, Life Is Just A Bowl Of Cherries,
Mama Inez, Mood Indigo, Ooh That Kiss, Oh Mona, Penthouse Serenade, Shadrack,
Singin’ The Blues, Someday I’ll Find You, Till The Real Thing Comes Along, Twentieth
Century Blues, When I Take My Sugar To Tea, Where The Blue Of The Night Meets
The Gold Of The Day, Yours.
Ambrose’s first big event of 1932 was a charity ball at the Empress Hall in
early January – another sell-out! Routine broadcasts and a recording session the same
month were the least of Ambrose’s concerns because he had two major tasks in-hand.
Firstly, the launch of his own variety production, and secondly his first studio-based
radio show for the BBC.
The stage show was essentially an alternative to taking the main band out ‘on
the road’, which could only be done on a limited scale due to the residency at the May
Fair. An entirely separate entity could tour at will and would not be restricted to the
London area. As before, it was to be part of the usual variety theatre ‘package’ with a
time allocation of thirty minutes. The show featured Teddy Sinclair, Phyllis Robins,
the Three Ginx, a six-piece band and a four-girl dance troupe. Teddy Sinclair fronted
the band on ‘hot’ fiddle, sang and danced and acted as compère. Phyllis Robins, along
with the girl dancers, provided the mandatory glamour. By all accounts, Ambrose’s
first effort as an independent producer was a complete success, and the show toured
provincial variety theatres for eight weeks.
It had long been expected that Ambrose would be given the chance to present a
studio-based radio show. Although leaving little to be desired, the broadcasts from the
May Fair were not acoustically ideal and despite the best efforts of BBC technicians a
certain amount of background ‘mush’, comprising shuffling feet, popping champagne
corks, clattering plates and shrill laughter, inevitably got to be transmitted. Hotel
managements were more concerned about the effect on patrons when the band played
louder than usual during broadcasts than about extraneous noises being transmitted to
listeners. At the May Fair on broadcast nights little notices were placed on the tables
apologising for the fact that the band would have to play louder than usual during
transmissions.
Given the acoustical and presentational advantages of broadcasting from a
studio it might be wondered why it had taken Ambrose four years to do so. The main
problem, lack of financial incentive, will be discussed later but there were also
problems relating to transmission times. Virtually all programs went out live because
recording techniques for broadcasts were still in their infancy. In Ambrose’s case the
band at the May Fair went on at 9pm which made anything other than early evening
broadcasting difficult to achieve without the added expense of providing a substitute
band at the May Fair. Another problem was the greater degree of planning required for
studio broadcasts. Presenters had to ensure that their material did not clash with that
already approved for other shows and rehearsals prior to a broadcast were deemed
essential for timing purposes.
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Ambrose’s first studio broadcast was scheduled for Friday 22nd January 1932 at
8pm on the National Programme and given the title – ‘AN HOUR OF MUSIC BY
AMBROSE & HIS ORCHESTRA’. Here’s the play-list: Sunshine And Roses
Oh Mona
I Don’t Know Why
Carmelita
In The Jailhouse Now
Medley of tunes from ‘SCANDALS’.
Star Dust
Tom Thumb’s Drum
Dancing In The Dark
San Sue Strut
Just Friends
Eleven More Months And Ten More Days
La Rosita
Mona Lisa
Those participating included regulars Sam Browne, Phyllis Robins, the Three
Ginx, and the Carson Sisters. A guest artist – possibly popular singer Elsie Carlisle –
was also included. The show was compèred by comedian/actor Naunton Wayne. As
usual for broadcasts the orchestra was augmented to eighteen players. Only one
instrumental (San Sue Strut) truly reflected the jazz potential of the band. The rendition
of Star Dust differed from that on Ambrose’s record of the previous year. For this
broadcast it was presented as a piano concerto featuring Bert Reid.
During the broadcast only one hitch occurred – Phyllis Robins missed her cue
during a duet (I Don’t Know Why) with Sam Browne. As always in such cases a
number of irate listeners considered it their God-given duty to put pen to paper and
complain to the BBC. Following the broadcast Ambrose sent her out on the road with
the stage show.
Ambrose might well have been less inclined to do this had it not been for the
fact that a rather remarkable replacement was ready, willing and able to take over
broadcasting duties. Remarkable, not only for what she could do, but also because her
talents extended far beyond what would normally be required for band vocalising - and
this was widely recognised at the time. Elsie Carlisle grew-up in Lancashire and after
performing in working men’s clubs and in provincial musical theatre, came to London
in the early 1920s. By 1925 she had her own recording contract and was broadcasting
regularly. In the late 1920s she caught the attention of Cole Porter who gave her a
leading part in his West End production - ‘WAKE UP AND DREAM’. Further stage
shows followed and in 1930 she appeared in a couple of British film musicals – ‘AL
FRESCO’ and ‘BLACK AND WHITE’ with the Ambrose-sponsored Hal Swain band.
Elsie Carlisle was one of the very few British pre-war vocalists who could blend
rhythmically with a jazz band, and came close to achieving an authentic blues singing
style. Many of her songs were, by the standards of the time, rather risqué – acceptable
on stage, but not on radio or in the recording studio. Regrettably, much of what she did
on radio for Ambrose was never recorded by him.
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Ambrose’s studio broadcast was well received but it would remain a ‘one-off’
in the immediate future. The cost of providing special arrangements, hiring extra
musicians and vocalists and a guest compère had been huge and only slightly off-set by
what the BBC paid for such a studio broadcast…£40/hour [about £1,600 now]. The
late-night broadcasts from the May Fair attracted no fee whatsoever, and so whenever
Ambrose brought-in guest vocalists or instrumentalist (which was most weeks) he
again had to bear the additional costs. Of course Ambrose was potentially a wealthy
man…but only potentially! His lavish life-style and habitual gambling devoured much
of what came in from record royalties and similar sources of income. Because he was
able to borrow money against (virtually guaranteed) future earnings he appeared to be
rich. In reality, he was living ‘on the margin’…and would continue to do so for the rest
of his life. In good times it didn’t matter so much - in bad times it did. And in 1932
times were going from bad to worse.
In October 1931 a general election had returned a Conservative-dominated
National government with a mandate to do things previously thought reprehensible like
taking Britain off the Gold Standard and introducing tariffs on certain imported goods.
Although the financial crisis that had hit the UK the previous summer was alleviated
these and other measures related to indirect taxation helped to cause a down-turn in
West End trade. Hotels, restaurants and (most) clubs were starting to feel the pinch.
Had the Slump been foreseen by the management of Gordon Hotels the Dorchester
would never have been built let alone opened, and merely changing the band in the
ballroom wasn’t going to alter its essentially White Elephant status. At least the
Dorchester stayed open – other establishments went under, or went decidedly ‘down
market’. Soon the race was on to cater more for the tastes - and pockets - of the middle
class rather than High Society.
Although Ambrose’s company – Ambrose Orchestras Ltd (AOL) – managed to
stay solvent it was becoming more difficult to obtain (and then retain) band supply
contracts. So many came and went around this time that it’s difficult to say which
hotels, restaurants, clubs and dance halls came within Ambrose’s orbit. In this line of
work Ambrose was at a distinct disadvantage because he insisted on MU minimum
rates and conditions at the venues he dealt with. Most booking agents weren’t so
scrupulous. Anyway, around this time he was less involved with supplying bands for
West End venues. One interesting addition to AOL’s list in March 1932 was the
Embassy Club. Since Ambrose relinquished his control of the Embassy band in the
summer of 1927 the band contract had been in the gift of the Harris-Aaronson
Organisation and the band as such fronted (most of the time) by Jack Harris. Early in
1932 the Embassy changed hands and for some reason the new management wanted to
change the band contract, hence Ambrose’s new involvement. As he couldn’t front a
band there himself, he brought over an American bandleader called Lou Simmonds to
lead an eight-piece band (four horns/four rhythm) made-up of British musicians.
It was also early in 1932 that the Ambrose band appeared on film for the first
time. The film concerned was made by the Empire Marketing Board and called ‘THE
VOICE OF THE WORLD’. It was essentially a promotional documentary based on the
recording activities of HMV and intended for inclusion in cinema programmes in
Britain and the Dominions. Apart from Ambrose, other HMV celebrities took part but
regrettably it has not been possible to obtain additional information.
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In July 1932 Ambrose gave a concert at the open-air theatre in Regents Park
attended by Louis Armstrong (in Britain for an engagement at the London Palladium).
Not long after this, broadcasting from the May Fair ceased for the whole of August.
Also, as usual, the boys in the May Fair band took staggered holidays and Ambrose
left Ernie Lewis to cope as best he could. At the Dorchester a small substitute band
covered for the Blue Lyres, away touring Holland for four weeks. Where Ambrose
spent his summer vacation that year is not known, but wherever it was band business
was not likely to have been entirely banished from his thoughts. One important change
in the May Fair line-up would be necessitated by Joe Crossman’s imminent departure.
Peter Yorke also left the arranging team at this time having been appointed chief
arranger for the Keith Prowse music publishing concern.
When Ambrose received Joe Crossman’s notice he contacted Joe Brannelly
who was on vacation in New York to see whether there was any chance of obtaining
the services of a top jazz sax man, preferably Jimmy Dorsey! This was not as farfetched as might be imagined. Times were even harder in the US than in Britain and
some top musicians were obliged to eek out a living in pit bands and suchlike. In fact
Dorsey had commitments that made it impossible to accept, even for a limited
engagement. However, another top sax man who was available found the offer too
tempting to refuse – Danny Polo. He returned to Britain with Brannelly in early
September and immediately assumed leadership of the sax section. Although the rest of
the band’s personnel remained the same, Ambrose decided that the sax section needed
revamping and switched Joe Jeanette over to second alto and Billy Amstell to tenor,
complementing Danny Polo’s first alto role. Once again it has to be emphasised that
these were principal roles, each member of the section was required to perform on a
range of instruments. For augmentation purposes Ambrose added Sid Phillips on
baritone sax/clarinet. Note, though, that baritone solos were the responsibility of
Danny Polo, and that only on rare occasions would Sid provide solos on clarinet. When
playing with the band his role was primarily to reinforce the section’s bass-line and
clarinet choir. Sid’s other duties included the supply of arrangements as before, but
now he worked mainly for Ambrose, having relinquished his post at the Lawrence
Wright organisation.
To replace Peter Yorke, Ambrose hired Freddy Bretherton, again on a parttime basis. He had formerly been an arranger for Jack Hylton and was currently
playing piano in a jazz band resident at the Spiders Web, a famous road-house on the
outskirts of North West London. Lew Stone now severed whatever remaining
arranging connection he had with Ambrose as he was about take over the band at the
Monseigneur Restaurant following Roy Fox’s departure. And we can also remove
Arthur Lally from the arrangers’ list in anticipation of his imminent departure from the
Ambrose fold (for reasons that will be explained in due course).
In the brass section, Ambrose added an additional full-time trombonist to work
alongside Ted Heath, although Ted continued to provide most of the solos. As before,
scoring for trombones was seen essentially in terms of an overall ‘brass sound’ for
which the first trumpet provided the essential overall leadership.
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In the rhythm section the tuba and banjo were removed from regular use. These
Jazz Age stalwarts had largely been replaced by string bass and guitar for recording
purposes, but their more percussive contributions had remained popular for live
performances. The ‘swamping’ problem associated with the acoustic guitar both as a
rhythm and a soloing instrument in large bands could only be solved by using some
form of amplification. The string bass suffered in the same way although modifications
in the way the strings were mounted and alternative ways of playing (for example -slap
bass) went some way to alleviating the problem. Certainly, by the early 1930s
recording and broadcasting technicians had overcome most of the difficulties
associated with both instruments. Of course there were those who regretted the passing
of the tuba and banjo – no doubt the same people who still yearned for silent films,
cylindrical records and crystal sets!
Here’s the line-up in the autumn of 1932: AMBROSE & HIS MAY FAIR ORCHESTRA
Director:
Brass:
Reeds:
Rhythm:
Strings:
Vocals:
Arrangers:
Joe Jeanette (alto/clarinet/flute /+arranger)
Billy Amstell (tenor/clarinet)
Sid Phillips (baritone/clarinet)*
Joe Brannelly (guitar)
Max Bacon (drums/+vocals)
Don Stuteley (bass)
Neville Bishop (timpani/xylophone)*
Ernie Lewis (violin)…et al*
Sam Browne
Elsie Carlisle
The Three Ginx*
The Carson Sisters*
Sid Phillips
Freddy Bretherton
Ronnie Munro
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The Blue Lyre’s tour of Holland (which included some radio dates) during
August was a complete success, consolidating its reputation as one of the most
accomplished British jazz-oriented bands of the early 1930s. Away from the
restrictions required to keep the dancers at the Dorchester happy and contented, this
band was able to show what it could really do when given the chance. Even at the
Dorchester the brilliance sometimes shone through, particularly when the band was
broadcasting. The evidence for the success of the Blue Lyres is almost entirely
anecdotal because recordings attributed to this band in record catalogues of the time
actually refer to a unit composed mainly of star players from the May Fair band,
although the arrangements and direction at recording sessions were undertaken by the
Dorchester band’s leader Arthur Lally. This rather confusing set-up reflects Ambrose’s
problem of not being able to record jazzier, less commercial, items under his own
name for contractual reasons. These reasons will be discussed later and it is merely
sufficient to note here that Arthur Lally was involved with both the Dorchester and
May Fair bands.
Arthur Lally’s contributions to the success of both bands were substantial but
there were reasons why he could not be left entirely to his own devices when it came to
leading the Blue Lyres. Under normal circumstances he would have been a brilliant
leader, but his personal circumstances were not normal and from time-to-time this
became all too apparent. Everyone who came into contact with him agreed that this
was a rotten shame, none more so than Ambrose. It would be pointless to reiterate the
problems that arose due to Arthur Lally’s mental state, but by the late summer it had
become clear that he would need residential treatment. And so this brilliant
saxophonist and arranger had to be replaced.
Peter Rush took-over the Blue Lyres in September. Having transferred the
band’s trombonist (Tony Thorpe) to the May Fair orchestra, Ambrose was obliged to
find two replacements. For the 2nd alto chair he obtained the services of Harry Hayes,
who also doubled on clarinet and baritone. There is no record of who replaced Tony
Thorpe. Peter Rush continued to provide ‘hot’ fiddle solos and the occasional vocal.
Sid Phillips was given responsibility for rehearsing the band and supervised the
orchestration requirements. In October, Ambrose’s Blue Lyres commenced an eightweek tour of London variety theatres, somehow combining this with normal duties at
the Dorchester.
Ambrose took the May Fair band out on the road during the autumn, again only
in the London area, and this time confined to a chain of cinemas run by the GaumontBritish Corporation. This was something of a new venture, but it fitted-in well with
requirements at the May Fair because the cinema stage shows were confined to one
early evening performance and the band could be whisked back to the hotel in time for
the 9pm start in the ballroom. Although not as lucrative as normal variety theatre work,
cine-variety shows continued as an intermittent extra-mural activity for the next fifteen
years.
Broadcasting from the May Fair resumed in October and continued at weekly
intervals. Sam Browne and Elsie Carlisle were the regular vocalists, with different
vocal groups participating according to availability. Guest vocalists and
instrumentalists were regularly included. Unfortunately, BBC play-lists from this time
only indicate the titles of the musical items and not the performers.
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Recording sessions for HMV also kept the band busy until the end of the year.
These were now being done at EMI’s Abbey Road studios in St John’s Wood. Many of
Ambrose’s British releases were also issued in the fifty or so countries in which HMV
operated. HMV had been an international concern since the early 1900s and by the late
1920s had become the largest record supplier in the world. In some cases it worked
through agreements with other companies (such as in America), but usually HMV
owned factories and distribution organisations in the countries concerned. HMV’s
famous ‘Nipper’ trade-mark was known throughout the world (although in some
countries the dog was replaced by a cobra listening intently to the gramophone horn).
Although EMI was obliged to sell-off its interests in Columbia/US (due to anti-trust
laws) the former HMV agreements with RCA-Victor and its subsidiaries continued.
This arrangement was very important for American recording artists because it gave
them an indirect world-wide outlet at a time when US tariff policy was highly
unpopular and attracting retaliatory action against the United States. For recording
artists outside the US the situation was reversed. Duty only had to be paid on the metal
dies used to stamp-out the records, not on the records because these were manufactured
in the US. Only US-based recording artists had any grounds for complaint, and they
could hardy do so when their own efforts were also being exported.
Until he left HMV, Jack Hylton enjoyed the lion’s share of American releases
by British bands contracted to HMV, although Ray Noble wasn’t far behind. After
leaving the BBC Dance Orchestra in 1930 (for which he was staff arranger) Ray Noble
joined HMV as arranger and leader of the New Mayfair Orchestra – HMV’s house
band. Later he was appointed Head of Light Music and continued in this role after the
formation of EMI. Eventually, records bearing the name-tag ‘Ray Noble & His
Orchestra’ were issued, and these sold exceptionally well, including in America.
Ambrose was Jack Hylton’s replacement so far as HMV’s American releases were
concerned throughout 1932. Most of Ambrose’s recorded output during 1932 was
released in America as well as world-wide. The following are the major titles for 1932:
[Vocal by Sam Browne… Mona Lisa, You’re Blasé, Open Up Dem Pearly Gates,
Songs That Are Old Live Forever (+Three Ginx), We’re A Couple Of Soldiers
(+Anona Wynn), Let’s Put Out The Lights And Go To Sleep (+Anona Wynn), I
Guess I’ll Have To Change My Plan, Tom Thumb’s Drum, Lets All Sing Like The
Birdies Sing, Ich Liebe Dich, Tell Me Tonight, In The Jailhouse Now {1&2},
Goopy Geer, The Voice In The Old Village Choir (+ choir/boy soprano), Soft Lights
And Sweet Music, The ‘Oi’ Song (+Max Bacon), Eleven More Months And Ten
More Days {1&2}, The Queen Was In The Parlour, Rain On The Roof, Day By
Day, Auf Wiedersehn. Dixieland {1&2} (+Elsie Carlisle/Three Ginx). Dancing In
The Dark, Got A Date With An Angel, Too Many Tears, Old Man Of The
Mountain, Paradise, Song Of The Harp (+Harry Chapman - harp), Wherever You
Are, Just Another Dream Of You, Shadows On The Window, Foxtrot Medley
{1&2}. [Vocal by Joe Crossman… Minnie The Moocher, You Rascal You. [Vocal by
Elsie Carlisle… The Clouds Will Soon Roll By, ‘Leven Pounds Of Heaven.
.
US releases shown upright.
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It is interesting to note that the arrangements for Paradise and Fox Trot Medley
were written by Ambrose. He was an occasional contributor to the band’s book and
although past efforts like Charleston and Ravel’s Bolero had been broadcast, the
current ones appear to have been the first to be recorded. Like his fiddle playing,
Ambrose’s arranging skills were limited to fairly simple and basically ‘straight’
interpretations of the tunes concerned. It was probably because since Lew Stone’s
departure he had taken on the role of co-ordinating the arranging team himself that he
felt the need to make a token effort in this direction.
All the records on which the above titles appeared sold well and most remained
in the HMV catalogue for many years. One American release did particularly well –
Mona Lisa b/w You’re Blasé (arranged by Lew Stone and Sid Phillips respectively).
Ambrose now joined Jack Hylton and Ray Noble in that rare category - British
bandleaders making it big in the United States. From this time on the American
connection would grow in importance.
Before leaving Slump-ridden 1932 behind we should take a look at those top
hits that Ambrose didn’t record but most of which would have been featured by the
band: Adios, April In Paris, By The Fireside, Creole Love Call, Darkness On The Delta, Fit
As A Fiddle, Granada, Have You Ever Been Lonely, How Deep Is The Ocean, I Gotta
Right To Sing The Blues, I’ve Got The World On A String, Louisiana Hayride, Mad
About The Boy, Somebody Loves You, The Song Is You, Try A Little Tenderness,
Underneath The Harlem Moon, Willow Weep For Me, You’re An Old Smoothie.
Some of these titles now rank as ‘standards’, including the two with words and
music by British songwriters Ray Noble (By The Fireside) and Noel Coward (Mad
About The Boy). This was Ray Noble’s first big success as a songwriter, and his own
HMV recording was a big hit in America. Coward was as famous in America as in
Britain and this item merely one in a string of hits in both countries.
Despite the Depression, Tin Pan Alley continued to churn out songs good, bad
and indifferent in a variety of genres, but all aimed at a mass market. Hollywood’s
contributions were a spin-off from film musicals and like Broadway occasionally
shared the same song writing talents with Tin Pan Alley. However, it was from the
musical theatre that most of the really sophisticated songs of the era emanated. Some
of these would become standards in time, but on the whole what the public still wanted
in the early 1930s was escapist fare. True, Depression related songs like Brother Can
You Spare A Dime and A Shanty In Old Shanty Town (both hits in 1932, but usually
shunned by bands playing society dates) proved that popular culture was not entirely
indifferent to current events, but the most poignant protest songs were being written
and performed by artists well away from the bright lights of Broadway, Hollywood and
Tin Pan Alley.
It was Noel Coward who has a character in one of his plays refer to ‘the
potency of cheap music’. A fair comment in many cases but in some respects the best
popular songs of this era stand out as the best of all time insofar as durability is
concerned. True, it would take a later generation of arrangers and singers, freed from
the constraints imposed by most danceband leaders, to realise their full stylistic
potential, but at least Ambrose had some inkling that the potential existed. Nor did the
music he presented come particularly cheap!
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In the autumn of 1932 EMI put into effect a new policy relating to royalties
paid to artists under contract to the record companies (including HMV and Columbia)
that came within its orbit. The amount paid in royalties was, by tradition, a matter of
negotiation between a record company and an individual recording artist and
enshrined, along with other matters, in a formal contract. Someone like Jack Hylton,
whose record sales were in the millions, was always able to negotiate more favourable
terms than a less popular artist. Once a recording had been made it became the
property of the record company. The company could usually do as it liked regarding
release of a particular title, and not releasing it at all was always an option. This
sometimes occurred if the company deemed the recording ‘un-commercial’, i.e.
unlikely to sell sufficient copies to make a reasonable profit. Clearly, what was
‘reasonable’ depended in part on how much would have to be paid in royalties. The
sting in the tail for the artist was that recording costs were off-set against royalties
(how this came about is too complex to relate here) so it was never in the interests of
an artist to have his or her items rejected for release. The greater an artist’s royalties,
the more need to make a quick return on sales, and consequently the more pressure on
the artist to record commercial items. Because royalties were a contractual matter
settled at the time of negotiating the contract it should have made no difference
whether or not an artist was still under contract to the company when the title
concerned was released. For example Jack Hylton left HMV at the end of 1931, but
continued to enjoy royalties on records subsequently released by HMV.
This was standard practice, but did the royalties have to stay the same? Could
they possibly be reduced? EMI thought that they could, and did so in the case of Jack
Hylton whose HMV record sales (including titles first released in the 1920s) remained
buoyant. So far as Jack Hylton was concerned this was a breach of contract under
English law, and he sued EMI/HMV accordingly. Eventually Jack won the day, and
royalties as per original contract were paid to artists, but EMI subsequently ensured
that new contracts (including renewals) reflected their revised policy. Ambrose’s
(second) one-year contract with HMV had been concluded in March 1932. In October
1932 EMI announced that future contract renewals would have to be negotiated with
the expectation of reduced royalties (as well as the reduction in existing royalties that
was later blocked by Jack Hylton’s injunction). Most HMV and Columbia recording
artists appear to have accepted all this, but Ambrose – like Jack Hylton – would have
none of it. And so towards the end of 1932 he announced that he would not be
renewing his recording contract, which was due to expire in March 1933.
Ambrose was immediately approached by Brunswick (by this time part of the
Decca set-up) with a view to joining that label in the spring of 1933. The loss of
HMV’s formidable world-wide distribution network and superior recording techniques
was not to be taken lightly. Nor was the fact that at Brunswick he would have to
compete with Duke Ellington, Don Redman, Guy Lombardo, and the Dorsey Brothers
– rather a tall order! Nevertheless he accepted the offer. Ambrose could not start
recording for Brunswick until his EMI/HMV contract expired in March 1933, and
perhaps in a fit of pique made no further recordings for HMV, although sales of his
previous HMV releases continued regardless.
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In January 1933 Elsie Carlisle had to be temporarily replaced due to ill-health.
Although still only featured at the May Fair on broadcasting nights, she participated in
Ambrose’s autumn cine-variety tour, and was appearing regularly as a solo act in
cabaret. Also, she had her own recording contract with Decca and rather mischievously
recorded elsewhere under an assumed name. With such a heavy work schedule it
comes as no surprise that her illness was of the ‘nervous exhaustion’ kind. Her
temporary replacement was Cecile Petrie of the Carlyle Cousins. Although this threegirl vocal group was not under exclusive contract to Ambrose, its first taste of major
success came after appearing in the Palladium show in the autumn of 1931. Subsequent
broadcasts with Ambrose and other bands, and variety and cabaret appearances helped
to consolidate the group’s success. By coincidence, the Carlyle Cousins were
appearing at the Embassy Club with the Ambrose-controlled Lou Simmonds band
when Cecile’s services were required at the May Fair. Another vocal group – the
Carson Sisters (a duo) - participated in the May Fair broadcasts on a regular basis at
this time, and so too did the Three Ginx, an all-male group.
The Three Ginx also occasionally appeared at the Embassy, moreover each
member had instrumental talent and so, with Ambrose’s support, they functioned as a
three-piece band called the Rhythmic Three – Jack Joy (piano/vocals), Eric Handley
(drums), Ivor Robbins (saxes/clarinet). This small band appeared regularly at Murray’s
and Romano’s restaurants, both venues coming within the AOL band supply orbit.
Early in 1933 Ambrose brought over from Austria the Dajos Bela Orchestra for
a short term engagement (venue unknown), and an appearance at the London
Palladium. Also in London at this time was Irving Mills who headed the MillsRockwell Corporation, a powerful American concern involved with music publishing
and artist management, among other things. Mills had several missions in hand;
including the promotion of the music he published and the possibility of the artists he
represented appearing in Britain – one of whom was Duke Ellington. Mills happened
to be dining with friends at the May Fair during a Saturday night broadcast and was
completely bowled-over by Ambrose’s band, which by now was routinely featuring
arrangements of numbers popularised by Duke Ellington, Cab Calloway, Don Redman
and the Casa Loma Orchestra. Although essentially cover versions, the arrangements
ensured a distinct ‘sound identity’ for the band, and this, according to Mills, was what
most copy-cats failed to achieve. Mills was also interested in Ambrose’s impresario
activities in connection with bringing over some of his American artists, but any
possibilities in this direction were nipped in the bud when someone else got wind of
what was going on.
At the time of Mills’ visit to London, Jack Hylton was appearing with his band
in Paris. On becoming aware that Mills was seeking backing for his British ventures
Hylton rushed back to London and made an immediate offer to finance and organise a
tour by Duke Ellington. Mills wanted a lot of money, and only someone with Hylton’s
resources could guarantee the sum involved. Ambrose as a bandleader might have been
on a par with Jack Hylton, but as an impresario he had some way to go.
Professional rivalries aside, Ambrose enjoyed good relationships with most of
the top British bandleaders, including Jack Hylton. The gamblers among them formed
a particularly long-lasting friendship circle, and a more socially acceptable coterie of
bandleaders met regularly for golf dates at one or other of the exclusive clubs to which
only their kind of income and celebrity status would allow entry.
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In March 1933 Ambrose celebrated his fifth year of broadcasting from the May
Fair. This was also the month that he started to record for Brunswick. Record
reviewers, like ‘Detector’ in the Melody Maker, expressed the hope that from this time
on Ambrose’s recorded output would match the quality and innovation of his
broadcasts and show what the band was really capable of. No doubt Ambrose agreed,
but both ‘Detector’ and Ambrose – if not the record buying public – were to be sadly
disappointed. As ever, the standard of musicianship remained excellent and there was
no lack of jazz-inspired ensemble and solo playing where appropriate, but as before the
reluctance of Brunswick/UK to allow any deviation from what Tin Pan Alley was
churning out was all too obvious. So far as British record buyers with more
sophisticated tastes were concerned, Brunswick could argue that their needs were
catered for by those American bands in the Brunswick/US catalogue whose output was
selectively issued in Britain. As these were among the bands from which Ambrose
routinely ‘lifted’ material it is difficult not to sympathise with hard-pressed
Brunswick/UK executives obliged to keep at least one eye firmly fixed on what we
would now call ‘the bottom line’. To a great extent Ambrose was hoist on his own
petard, still insisting in the early 1930s that what he was trying to do could only be
based on American creativity and originality.
It was also in the spring of 1933 that faint rumblings of a gathering storm could
be detected by those with perceptive antenna. The consequences of government
financial policies were now affecting the entertainment business in general and the
West End in particular. High Society (except for a ‘super rich’ coterie) had started to
economise within a few months of the Wall Street Crash, and gradually many of those
establishments that catered for the ‘ordinary rich’ moved down market in an attempt to
attract middle class customers. The trouble was that middle class enjoyments were
relatively parsimonious – they simply wouldn’t spend enough! Clubs, restaurants and
hotels catering for ‘outside trade’ made their best profits by buying booze cheap and
selling it dear. The favourite tipple of High Society was euphoria-inducing champagne.
Now a bottle of good quality champagne retailed at two guineas [about £80 now], but
because large concerns like Gordon Hotels purchased such huge quantities from
suppliers they could negotiate substantial discounts. And it was the same with other
delights such as fine table wines and the alcoholic ingredients of cocktails.
Food was far less profitable, although exotic dishes like lobster, caviar and
smoked salmon could just about match the returns on their liquid complements.
However, middle class patrons weren’t inclined to quaff champagne, or guzzle caviar,
at the same rate as their ‘betters’…if at all. Some even had the effrontery to order a
carafe of water from the wine waiter! Many of those who did imbibe, did so frugally,
eschewing moreish champagne and making a bottle of house wine last a whole
evening. Meanwhile they danced to the strains of a big name band and enjoyed the
luxurious ambience of it all, scurrying away at midnight to catch the last train back to
the suburbs.
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In March 1933 Sir Francis Towle, Managing Director of Gordon Hotels called
on Ambrose at the May Fair Hotel to discuss the crisis (for such it was) that now
engulfed the Dorchester Hotel. In the year since its opening it had failed to attract
sufficient custom to break-even, let alone make a reasonable profit. Cuts would have to
made, including the provision of ‘free’ music. First to go would be the Moschetto
Orchestra, a salon-type outfit that played light classical music in the afternoon and
early evening. Also, the Blue Lyres would have to cost less – and this could only be
done by a cut in size. Ambrose reluctantly agreed - and axed the guitar from the lineup! Now it so happened that Ambrose’s two contracts with Gordon Hotels were soon
due for renewal - the three year contract between the hotel group and AOL for the
supply of bands to establishments within the group, and Ambrose’s personal one-year
contract to front the band at the May Fair. The hiatus at the Dorchester did not auger
well for the negotiations that began in May. Indeed, Sir Francis insisted on sweeping
cuts both across the board and at the May Fair. The regular outfit at the May Fair (12
instrumentalists + 1 vocalist) cost £500 [about £20,000 now] a week (excluding
broadcasting ‘extras’ which were personally covered by Ambrose). Towle now wanted
this sum reduced to £150 a week!
No doubt Towle’s figure was a negotiating ploy, a try-on…or perhaps it was
actually intended to drive Ambrose/AOL away. Certainly, only a very second-rate fullsize band could be had for £150 a week – or a tiny first-rate outfit like the Rhythmic
Three. As expected Ambrose wasn’t having any of it, and asked his business manager
to continue negotiations (a wise move given Ambrose’s volatile nature). In early July
negotiations finally broke down and then things started to get nasty. Towle gave an
interview to a reporter from the Evening News in which he lambasted ‘greedy’
bandleaders in general and Ambrose in particular. The downturn in trade at the
Dorchester, May Fair and other Gordon venues was, according to Towle, Ambrose’s
fault. He had attracted the wrong kind of people and driven away the Big Spenders!
Although this was indeed happening (as outlined above) it was part of a social trend,
and to blame a bandleader for it was ludicrous. Even so, Ambrose gave some
credibility to Towle’s rantings years later when he stated: ‘In some respects we were
too successful at the May Fair. They all flocked in from “the sticks”…nice people, not
hoi polloi…but still the kind of people more used to a Lyon’s Corner House with a
string band playing selections from ‘THE MERRY WIDOW’…and all for the price of
sardines on toast and a pot of tea! They drove the others – Society – away’.
Ambrose’s contracts were due to expire at the end of July and in mid-July it
was announced that Harry Roy would replace Ambrose at the May Fair with a twelvepiece band, and Jack Jackson the Blue Lyres at the Dorchester with an octet. For the
new May Fair band Towle was obliged to pay £250 a week - more than he originally
said was necessary, but still only half what Ambrose had cost. Harry Roy’s band
wasn’t in the same league as Ambrose’s but it was still quite good, and the May Fair
weathered the storm well enough. Perhaps Sir Francis Towle had a point after all.
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Just as the owners of West End night spots were putting the screws on
bandleaders, the BBC announced a concession over payments for studio-based band
shows. These had been paid at the flat rate of £40 an hour, irrespective of the size of
the band. The new figure was to be £100 [about £4,000 now], much more satisfactory
at least for a small or even medium-sized band. As we shall see, this concession came
just at the right time so far as Ambrose was concerned.
Towle may have been delighted with his new low-cost bands at the May Fair
and Dorchester but he made one fatal error when announcing their impending arrival.
This error concerned the weekly late-night broadcasts from both venues, which Towle
mistakenly thought could be transferred to the new bands without consulting the BBC.
The BBC’s Head of Light Entertainment informed him otherwise and broadcasting
ceased from both venues at the end of July. Ambrose’s Saturday night spot was takenover by the BBC Dance Orchestra and broadcast from a studio in London. But this was
only a temporary measure, because unbeknown to Towle, Ambrose had instigated
secret discussions with the BBC aimed at securing a weekly studio-based Saturday
night show in place of the usual outside broadcast. These discussions took place after
the break-down in contract negotiations with Towle, and at a time when Ambrose had
some idea of the kind of residency he was likely to get after the May Fair (a residency
from which broadcasting would not be possible). Far from losing his popular Saturday
night broadcast, Ambrose would be able, at long last, to present a regular show more
like his highly acclaimed special studio broadcast in January 1932. By the time
Ambrose left the May Fair arrangements were in place for his first broadcast in
October.
During Ambrose’s final few weeks at the May Fair some distinguished
Americans descended on Britain. Duke Ellington commenced a national tour starting at
the London Palladium. This tour was a huge success, and took Duke somewhat by
surprise, especially the attention shown by ‘serious’ music critics in the press. Also,
there was by now in Britain an embryonic network of ‘rhythm clubs’ sponsored and
partly organised by the Melody Maker, and wherever Duke went there was a
substantial body of ‘true believers’ to greet him and the boys in the band. After this
tour Duke Ellington started to take his work even more seriously than he had before.
Although Jack Hylton, who organised the tour, kept a firm grip over who could or
could not meet Duke and his band during their stay, he could hardly refuse to let them
attend a party organised by Lord Beaverbrook (a powerful press baron) at the behest of
the Prince of Wales. Much to Hylton’s annoyance the party was held after hours at the
May Fair, music provided of course by the Ambrose band. Carefully avoiding any of
Duke’s own numbers, Ambrose dusted-off a range of jazz classics and let the band go
to town. To have a captive audience that included Cootie Williams, Johnny Hodges,
Barney Bigard, Harry Carney, Joe Nanton, and Duke himself was an unforgettable
experience for the boys in the Ambrose band. Ambrose, who demurely left the
bandstand after counting-in the first number, later told Sid Phillips that experiencing
the reaction of Duke Ellington’s band to his own was one of the proudest moments in
his career: ‘The band was at its very best…I didn’t feel like a duke, or a prince…I felt
like a king!’ Jack Hylton, however, was far from amused!
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Shortly before Ambrose left the May Fair another well-known American
musical celebrity arrived in London – Hoagy Carmichael. Since the late 1920s Hoagy
had been a member of The Family, the group of musicians that fostered New Yorkstyle jazz. This group maintained close links with black players in Harlem where a
degree of integrated ‘jamming’ occurred in jazz clubs. Ambrose, when in New York,
had at least a nodding acquaintanceship with the jazz fraternity there. Like Duke
Ellington, Hoagy had met Ambrose in America, and during his visit to London
attended a rehearsal at which his own song Lazybones just happened to be on the
schedule. And one memorable night Hoagy also sat in on piano with the May Fair band
for an impromptu rendition of Star Dust.
Ambrose’s final broadcast from the May Fair took place on Saturday 29th July,
and this coincided with his last night playing at the hotel. By the time the broadcast
started the ballroom was filled to capacity and a greater than usual party spirit in
evidence. What then followed was just like the Last Night at the Proms. The
augmented orchestra, Sam Browne, Elsie Carlisle, the Carson Sisters and the Three
Ginx recalled some of the tunes and songs that had been broadcast over the past five
years. Before the final number Ambrose made a short speech, promising to be back on
the air in the autumn. After the broadcast the farewell party spirit continued - for
Ambrose ‘going quietly’ wasn’t an option!
Although Ambrose had already secured his next residency before leaving the
May Fair he did not immediately disclose where it would be. However, it was
rumoured that a return to the Embassy Club was on the cards. This was in fact the case,
and not that surprising considering that Ambrose already had the contract for supplying
the band there. It was merely necessary to transfer Lou Simmonds’ band somewhere
else, and take over the residency himself. Unlike the May Fair, the Embassy shut down
for eight weeks in the summer, which posed a problem for Ambrose having lost not
only the May Fair contract but also that for the Dorchester and other Gordon Hotels
establishments.
The immediate difficulty was how to keep his two principal bands – the main
orchestra and the Blue Lyres – employed throughout the summer. This problem was
compounded by the fact that Ambrose had arranged to go to America for six weeks,
and had very little time to organise alternative engagements. Fortunately some
openings were found in the variety tour schedules, and a reconstituted Blue Lyres
absorbed some of the ex-May Fair sidemen. Not all had to be accommodated because
Joe Brannelly and Danny Polo were also vacationing in America, Don Stuteley was
quitting the band and Ted Heath opted to take additional unpaid leave. For the
revamped Blue Lyres, Phyllis Robins, briefly returning to the Ambrose fold, provided
the vocal content. Another variety troupe comprising Sam Browne, Elsie Carlisle and
two pianists (Bert Read and Slim Wilson) were engaged for a tour of London theatres.
Joe Jeanette was given the unenviable task of reorganising and up-dating the band’s
library of orchestrations during that long hot summer.
Interestingly, Joe was obliged to dust-off some of the old jazz-inspired
arrangements dating back to Ambrose’s sojourn at the Embassy Club in the 1920s. The
patrons of the Embassy had far more adventurous musical tastes than their middle class
counterparts at the May Fair, reflecting no doubt a more adventurous approach to life
in general. And, of course, Ambrose would now have to provide music for the
Embassy’s floor show, which included an exotic dance troupe.
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By the time Ambrose left the May Fair, Brunswick/UK had released twenty of
his band’s titles, ten records in all. The previous policy whereby the arranger of a
number worked closely with the band and vocalist(s) during the rehearsal and
recording stages continued after Lew Stone, who instigated this policy, departed the
scene. Here are the Brunswick releases up to the end of July 1933: [Vocal by Sam Browne… I Wake Up Smiling, Stormy Weather, Sylvia, Sweetheart,
Farewell To Arms, Bom-Ba-Diddy-Bom-Bom, Butterflies In The Rain, Chasonette,
Chewing Gum, I Can’t Remember, Maybe I Love You, Body And Soul (+Ambrose violin), When Gimble Hits The Cymbal (+Max Bacon), Hyde Park Corner (+Elsie
Carlisle/Max Bacon), What Would Ja Like For Breakfast (+Elsie Carlisle), All Over
Italy (+Max Bacon), Under My Umbrella (+Elsie Carlisle), When Your Little
Pomeranian Met My Little Pekinese (+Elsie Carlisle). [Vocal by Elsie Carlisle…
You’ve Got Me Crying Again.
.
.
These recordings show the same degree of consistency in arranging style as
before, which indicates that Ambrose, who now co-ordinated the orchestration effort,
successfully carried forward Lew Stone’s policies regarding the ‘sound identity’ of the
band. Note that only two titles were released in America, probably reflecting Jack
Hylton’s determination not to allow a British rival to steal his thunder. Another factor
was the wealth of home-based talent contracted to Brunswick/US. Apart from Duke
Ellington, Guy Lombardo and the Casa Loma Orchestra, top solo artists included Bing
Crosby, Ruth Etting, and the Boswell Sisters.
Commenting on these releases Ambrose singled out Farewell To Arms as: ‘The
loveliest record I have ever made’. Possibly, but who remembers it now? Apart from
the revived Body And Soul, the only two titles that have stood the test of time are the
Isham Jones song - You’ve Got Me Crying Again, and the Harold Arlen/Ted Koehler
number - Stormy Weather. This last song was specially written for Ethel Waters, who
had introduced it at the Cotton Club earlier in the year, and is one of the very few
songs to deviate from the rigid Tin Pan Alley structure and still become a hit. This
departure from the norm caused so much consternation at the time that the song’s
publisher had to threaten legal action against certain bandleaders who rearranged its
format so that their rhythm sections could cope more easily. Ambrose’s rhythm
section, of course, did quite nicely with the original.
Early in August, Ambrose departed for the United States, his first trip there
since 1929. At this time the Atlantic crossing had to be made by sea and took at least
five days. Cunard’s ‘White Star’ Line was Ambrose’s preferred means of travel and
when in New York he usually stayed at the luxurious Whitehall Hotel on Broadway – a
favourite haunt for visiting show business celebrities. By now Ambrose was a
celebrity, but in America only one of the ‘minor’ kind. This was about to change and
Ambrose was wise to keep his American options open. Although it was getting
difficult to arrange band exchanges it was still possible under certain circumstances
and even if the AFM objected to entire foreign bands working in America their leaders
were still being given ‘guest conductor’ status fronting American sidemen. One factor
in Ambrose’s favour was his still-extant membership of the AFM’s Local 802.
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When Ambrose arrived in New York in the summer of 1933 the lowest point in
the Great Depression had been reached. Across America average personal income was
just about half what it had been immediately prior to the Wall Street Crash in 1929.
Such a catastrophic drop in purchasing power could hardly fail to have an impact on
the entertainment industry. The unprecedented drop in record sales has already been
mentioned, and another statistic along the same lines merely rubs salt in the wound – in
1928 forty new musical shows opened in New York, in 1932 it was only five. The
early years of the Depression also saw a decline in vaudeville (although a sleazy
variant of it known as ‘burlesque’ grew in popularity). In 1932 the greatest vaudeville
theatre in America – New York’s Palace Theatre – closed-down and was replaced by a
movie house. Had all branches of show business experienced such downturns then it
would have been totally catastrophic, but this wasn’t the case. Radio and movies, at
least in part, offset the decline in live theatre and record sales. Indeed, radio and film
production steadily increased throughout the 1930s. Had this not been so,
unemployment within the entertainment industry, particularly for musicians, would
have been far worse than it was.
By 1933 the two major radio networks (NBC and CBS) were broadcasting
twenty-five shows a week based around ‘name’ bands. The most popular radio band
that year was Paul Whiteman’s, with four weekly shows attracting around a quarter of
the listening public. Hard on Whiteman’s heels was Guy Lombardo, and not far behind
him, Fred Waring. Lesser bands filled in the rest of the network time devoted to dance
music. But network radio had to compete with hundreds of independent radio stations
also broadcasting live music and giving work to thousands of musicians as a result.
American listeners could, on average, choose from among twelve local radio stations –
in New York it was twenty-two. All this represented a lot of music, and it meant that
top-flight white musicians (regardless of style) could make a reasonable living out of
radio. This still left many lesser mortals in the music business out in the cold (almost
half the members of the AFM’s Local 802 in New York City were unemployed in
1933), but at least it wasn’t total catastrophe.
At this time records were not used by the radio networks to any great extent.
This wasn’t their choice but due to pressure from the AFM and the threat of legal
action by the record companies. Local independent radio stations largely ignored the
pressure and threats and used records as ‘fillers’ between live programmes. Eventually,
the record companies gave way and allowed records to be played over the air, even
supplying radio stations with complementary copies provided they paid royalties to the
songwriters (recording artists didn’t get radio royalties in the US). In 1933, though, the
widespread popularity of the ‘disc jockey’ was still some way off. Not so the ‘jukebox’
– an electrical multi-selector type had just been introduced and would be one of the
factors leading to a gradual increase in record sales after the low point of 1932.
Another factor was the introduction of a low-cost electrical record player that could be
plugged into an ordinary radio receiver. This device also appeared around 1933, and
along with the jukebox contributed to an increase in record sales from this time on.
However, it would take over thirty years to achieve the mass market for records that
US companies enjoyed before 1929.
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Not long after arriving in New York, Ambrose attended a cocktail party given
in his honour by Brunswick/US boss Jack Kapp. Apart from the top bands and singers
mentioned previously, the Brunswick/US roster also included the bands of Don
Redman, the Dorsey Brothers, Ben Bernie, Eddie Duchin, and black jazz pianist Mary
Lou Williams. Given that under the agreement with Decca, the British bands of Jack
Hylton, Roy Fox and Lew Stone also had to be accommodated in the catalogue, it
seems surprising that Kapp showed such interest in Ambrose. Out of twenty titles cut
during his first three months with Brunswick/UK only two had been released in
America. Ironically, Ambrose had around twenty records currently on release in
America (dating from his time with HMV) on the Gramophone, Victor and Bluebird
labels. Most of these were selling quite well and some were getting the all-important
exposure on (mainly local) radio. A good start, but Ambrose had quite a way to go in
order to catch-up with Jack Hylton and Ray Noble – the two British bandleaders with
significant reputations in the United States.
No doubt looking-up old friends and acquaintances and generally socialising
took up a good deal of Ambrose’s time in New York, but he also had some serious
business to attend to. Not, this time, hiring American musicians – he already had a full
complement of star players – but talent spotting of a different kind was on the agenda
because his new responsibilities at the Embassy Club included the engagement of
cabaret artists for the club’s floorshow. Another task that preoccupied him was
seeking-out new material for the band. It usually took several months for a popular
American hit to cross the Atlantic, and whoever could claim to have introduced such a
hit to unsuspecting British audiences usually gained a commercial advantage.
Whether Ambrose sampled the delights of the smarter jazz clubs on 52nd Street
isn’t known, but it’s a safe bet that he did. Most of the big names of New York-style
jazz spent the early 1930s freelancing. Some became loosely attached to big name
bands and at the same time worked in ad hoc groups for recording sessions and/or
radio dates. Most spent at least some of their time jamming at jazz clubs like the Onyx,
Famous Door and Jack White’s. For top musicians like Jimmy and Tommy Dorsey,
Benny Goodman, Artie Shaw, Glenn Miller, Bunny Berigan, Red Norvo and Gene
Krupa there was no shortage of work, even though a fair percentage of it must have
been somewhat routine.
The bandleaders who played at the top New York hotels at this time ranged
from veterans like Emil Coleman at the Waldorf-Astoria to newcomers like Eddie
Duchin at the Central Park Casino. Other stalwarts included Guy Lombardo at the
Roosevelt Grill and Vincent Lopez at the Taft Hotel. All these were essentially
‘society’ bands and without exception sported tinkling twin pianos, permanently muted
brass, tenor-led sax sections and virtually beatless rhythm sections. They were, of
course, highly popular with the patrons of their respective venues, radio audiences and
(what was left of) the record-buying public. Even so, these bandleaders could have
learnt much from British counterparts like Carroll Gibbons and Roy Fox who worked
in similar circumstances but usually with greater flair and style. Ambrose was much
more likely to have turned his attention to the sounds emanating from Harlem and 52nd
Street than the top society venues.
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Two white bands that had a particular influence on what Ambrose did back in
Britain were the Casa Loma and Isham Jones orchestras. Significantly, these were two
white bands that paved the way to the Swing Era. The Casa Loma Orchestra was
somewhat unique because it was a co-operative venture, wholly owned by the
musicians who played in it. It had started off in 1929 as a band formed by Jean
Goldkette and originally called the Orange Blossoms. A year later, the band split from
Goldkette’s control, became a corporation and adopted the ‘Casa Loma’ tag. The
orchestra’s elected president was Glen Gray one of the sax players, but the principal
influence over its musical policy was guitarist and chief arranger Gene Gifford. As an
arranger Gifford ranks among the very best of the early 1930s. Artie Shaw later cited
the Casa Loma band as having a great deal of influence over his own musical
aspirations, and there seems little doubt that Ambrose would have concurred so far as
his jazz-oriented output was concerned.
Isham Jones, of course, had set the standard to which Ambrose had aspired
since the early 1920s, and the fact that ten years on Jones had lost none of his sparkle is
testament to something very special about this rather strange man. Apart from his own
still formidable orchestrating skills, Jones enjoyed the services of Gordon Jenkins, an
arranger in the same category as Gene Gifford. Another superb arranger with the band
was tuba player Joe Bishop, who also contributed several jazz-based compositions.
Jones always ensured that his star players were given plenty of soloing opportunities,
but it was the unique power of the ensemble work and driving rhythm that set this band
aside. Few other commercial bandleaders of the time could match Jones’ jazz
credentials and some of his blues-based output is just about the best achieved by any
white band before the mid-1930s. As an instrumentalist Jones made occasional
contributions on tenor, but mostly conducted the band with the aid of a baton and fully
notated scores. Throughout most of the 1930s he remained an important Tin Pan Alley
tunesmith (and occasional lyricist) with several big hits to his credit.
Other white bands that also interested Ambrose around this time included that
of his old acquaintance Ben Pollack. This band managed to maintain credible jazz
credentials despite being essentially commercial. Tenor player/flautist Deane Kincaide
wrote most of the arrangements, and was responsible for the Pollack band’s up-to-date
Dixieland style (much admired by Sid Phillips). In time, other white bands would
profoundly influence the Ambrose Orchestra, including those of the Dorsey Brothers,
Benny Goodman and Artie Shaw.
So far as African-American bandleaders of the early 1930s were concerned,
Ambrose paid close attention to the work of Duke Ellington, Don Redman, Benny
Carter, Fletcher Henderson and Cab Calloway. Certainly, Ambrose made it his
business to experience their bands in person (they were all playing at Harlem venues in
1933) and by this time would have formed at least a nodding acquaintanceship with
their leaders. Although Fletcher Henderson’s arranging talents remained formidable,
by the early 1930s he was beginning to falter as a bandleader. Cab Calloway was part
showman - part vocalist, but had an excellent band, and anyway some of the finer
points of band showmanship were by now also important to Ambrose.
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Ambrose returned from America in late September with barely a week in hand
to complete the reorganisation of the orchestra before taking-up his new residency at
the Embassy Club and launching the weekly studio-based broadcasts. Here’s the
complete line-up: AMBROSE & HIS EMBASSY CLUB ORCHESTRA
Director:
Brass:
Reeds:
Rhythm:
Strings:
Vocals:
Arrangers:
Arthur Young (piano/celesta)*
Dick Ball (bass)
Jack Simpson (timpani/xylophone/chimes)*
Reg Pursglove (violin)…et al*
Sam Browne
Elsie Carlisle*
Harry Singer*
The Three Ginx*
The Three Rhythm Girls*
Sid Phillips
Bert Barnes
Ronnie Munro
Van Phillips
*Occasional additions
Names shown in bold type formed the actual Embassy Club band.
As indicated above the band that played at the Embassy Club was smaller than
the aggregation used when away from it. This was because the Embassy bandstand
could only accommodate a nine-piece unit without becoming intolerably crowded.
Harry Owen, Tony Thorpe, and Joe Jeanette remained on full salaries and were
allocated ‘other work’ while their colleagues played at the Embassy. Elsie Carlisle
seems to have been employed as a part-timer but attended broadcasting sessions on a
regular basis. The Three Ginx also took part in broadcasts on a weekly basis as well as
putting in occasional appearances at the Embassy and functioning elsewhere as an
instrumental/vocal group (the Rhythmic Three).
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Since their broadcasting debut with the Ambrose band, the Carlyle Cousins had
become extremely popular on the variety and cabaret circuits and could now only take
part in broadcasts on an irregular basis. Consequently Ambrose used an alternative
group called the Three Rhythm Girls comprising Kaye Munro-Smythe and two others.
About vocalist Harry Singer nothing is known. He had certainly appeared in variety
and was billed as ‘the man from Harlem’, presumably due to his prowess at ‘scat’
singing and rendition of the song The Man From Harlem.
Dick Ball came from Howard Jacobs’ band. He was an experienced bass player
who had previously worked at the Embassy with Orlando’s band and at the Empress
Hall with Eddie Gross-Bart. Dick Ball was regarded as one of the best jazz bassist then
working in Britain. He popularised the use of the three-quarter size ‘king bass’ among
jazz players in Britain and also formulated playing techniques that avoided harmonic
problems still affecting some rhythm sections during recording sessions. His main
influence was American bassist Steve Brown.
Jack Simpson was also a significant part-time addition, being one of the leading
percussionists of the era. Much in demand for duties with classical orchestras, he also
did work for various bands where his expertise was occasionally called for. He had
started his career as a boy bandsman in the army and later taught drumming at Eaton
College. In addition to timpani he played the xylophone and marimba and also tookover the drum stool when Max Bacon contributed vocals during broadcasts.
Ambrose’s new series of broadcasts commenced on Saturday 7th October. As
before, his was the last scheduled item of the evening and usually lasted for 1½ hours.
Here’s the play-list for the first show: Get Hot Foot
Under A Blanket Of Blue
That’s How Rhythm Was Born
Was My Face Red
The Vision Of Salome
The Last Round Up
The Man From Harlem
Constantly
Wedding Of The Dragon Flies
What Are Little Girls Made Of?
Rockin’ In Rhythm
Sweet Dreams Pretty Lady
Cage In The Window
Talk Of The Town
Wah De Dah
Empty Days.
That Means You’re Falling In Love
Moonlight Madonna
Blue Rhythm
Ah But Is It Love?
Holiday
Shadows On The Swanee
Lay Your Head On My Shoulder
Time To Go
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These programmes did not start with Ambrose’s famous signature tune When
Day Is Done; instead they commenced after the band had started the first number.
There was also an interruption at 11.30pm for a time signal (the famous ‘pips’). The
closing number, Time To Go, was faded-out just in time for the midnight chimes of Big
Ben and the ‘close-down’ announcement. Elsewhere the problem of timing during live
programmes was usually solved by means of ‘continuity’ between the items being
broadcast (in this case musical numbers), but this would have required the services of a
skilled announcer and also production standards of greater complexity than Ambrose
could provide. At this time announcements made by non-BBC staff were strictly
regulated – any ad libbing could result in subsequent banishment from the airwaves!
Sam Browne made the announcements between numbers over background music
provided by the second pianist (an improvised passage modulating between the keys of
the numbers concerned). In essence the music never stopped – quite a feat for ninety
minutes! Ambrose must have been sorely tempted to hand-over control during
broadcasts to an experienced musical director but usually he didn’t.
Ambrose had virtually complete control over the choice of material for his
broadcasts, and their presentation - he was, in effect, the producer of the show.
However there were many ‘do’s and don’ts’ that had to be observed and, as with
announcements, failure to comply would bring down the full wrath of the BBC onto
the unfortunate offender. In many ways this limited freedom was highly commendable
but really had more to do with saving money than benevolence.
The format that Ambrose adopted for most of his broadcasts reflected his
avowed ‘something for everyone’ musical policy that held sway for most of the 1930s.
This made commercial sense at the time because it was the only approach that could
ensure financial success. Whether Ambrose would have wanted to lead a purely jazz
orchestra (like Duke Ellington’s) in 1930s Britain is debatable – the fact that he
couldn’t have done so is not. The careers of those who tried to – including Fred
Elizalde and Spike Hughes – bear witness to this fact, and so too does common sense
(notably lacking with some later commentators on Ambrose’s career). The charge that
any jazz the Ambrose band did include was almost entirely derivative is harder to
refute, and it has to be admitted that Elizalde, Hughes, and others, were more original
in their approach to jazz.
Ambrose’s cover version of Rockin’ In Rhythm (a Duke Ellington composition
dating from 1930) was one of several jazz-inspired numbers specially arranged by Sid
Phillips for broadcasting purposes. Another was a concert version of Solitude – another
Ellington tune. Also played in jazz mode was Voo Doo, an original composition by Sid
Phillips. Holiday was also an original composition/arrangement by Bert Read. Other
items broadcast around this time were the jazz classics Down South Camp Meeting
(arranged by Bert Barnes) and Shake Your Hips (a Jack Teagarden composition arranged by Van Phillips). Although strings were usually included for broadcasts they
were invariably absent on the jazz-inspired numbers and in this respect some of
Ambrose’s output at this time does reflect playing styles that would come to
prominence in the Swing Era.
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Ambrose’s instrumental numbers presented a range of rhythmic styles, and the
same approach to vocal numbers is also evident. In most cases the vocal was confined
to one chorus so there would have been some scope for solos by instrumental players
as well as improvised obbligatos. In some cases broadcast titles corresponded to
recorded titles but the arrangements and vocalists were not always the same. Elsie
Carlisle (who had her own recording contract with Decca) sometimes broadcast vocals
that were recorded for Ambrose by Sam Browne. On the whole, the songs
corresponded to current (and occasionally anticipated) hits – standard Tin Pan Alley
fare. The range of styles was also ‘standard’ insofar as certain types of song were
usually included, for example Latin American numbers, show tunes, cowboy songs and
comedy/novelty items.
At this time many bandleaders were still reluctant to hire a regular female
vocalist. In some cases this was because the all-male camaraderie of bands generated
horseplay, lewdness and practical jokes that were best not witnessed by members of
the ‘gentle sex’. Another reason was the supposed unseemliness of a female using a
megaphone, although this was becoming less of a problem because electrical
amplification of the voice was catching-on fast. Ambrose had few qualms about using
female vocalists but was still inclined to restrict their presence to broadcasts, recording
sessions and stage appearances, hence Sam Browne being the only regular vocalist at
the Embassy for routine work.
A vocal group was also an essential ingredient in Ambrose’s broadcasting
menu. At least one number was allocated to whatever group was taking part and a
couple more numbers when it provided backing for one of the solo vocalists. This was
extended somewhat when all the vocalists present formed a ‘choir’, an idea Ambrose
got after hearing Kay Thompson’s Rhythm Singers perform in New York. She had
been largely responsible for the choral content of Fred Waring’s Pennsylvanians, both
as lead singer and arranger, before forming her own group.
Another important feature of Ambrose’s broadcasts was the use of guest
performers. This was a continuation of a policy he had adopted since making his first
broadcast from the May Fair in 1928, but the studio-based nature of the current shows
seemed to give the guest spots added significance. Sometimes a seasoned performer
like cabaret singer Frances Day or musical comedy star Anona Wynn would be
included. At other times it would be a relatively unknown performer, like the American
cabaret pianist/singer Hildegarde. Certain stage and cabaret artists became regular
(though intermittent) guests on Ambrose’s radio shows including – pianist/singer
Turner Layton, singer Elisabeth Welch, and comedian/singer Leslie Sarony.
Ambrose’s new Saturday night band shows were highly acclaimed from the
start and eventually became institutionalised along with other Saturday night fare like
‘IN TOWN TONIGHT’, ‘MUSIC HALL’ and ‘SATURDAY NIGHT THEATRE’.
The formula remained essentially the same throughout the 1930s, and it was a winning
one, eventually attracting a listening audience of many millions in Britain and on the
Continent. These radio shows undoubtedly had a knock-on affect so far as Ambrose’s
record sales and tours were concerned, and helped propel the band towards its
legendary reputation as one of the finest popular music aggregations in Britain.
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With the new residency at the Embassy Club, weekly broadcasts and a full
schedule of recording sessions planned, Ambrose forewent his usual autumn tour of
London variety theatres; although some early evening appearances at West End
cinemas did take place. The Blue Lyres, now reconstituted to absorb some of the fulltimers not normally working at the Embassy, also undertook gigs in the London area.
Here’s the line-up: AMBROSE’S BLUE LYRES
Peter Rush (alto/clarinet/+violin/+leader)
Harry Hayes (tenor/baritone/clarinet)
Slim Wilson (piano)
Jim Jevone (guitar)
Tiny Stock (bass)
Ambrose releases on Brunswick/UK in the autumn of 1933 included the
following titles: [Vocal by Sam Browne…Learn To Croon, I Cover The Waterfront, Down The Old
Ox Road, Lazy Bones, Night And Day, The Last Round-Up, ‘Taint Necessarily So,
There’s A Cabin In The Pines, Dinner At Eight, Don’t Blame Me, Sweetheart
Darling, Love Locked Out, How Could We Be Wrong, Experiment, Without That
Certain Thing, My Song Goes Round The World, After You Who, Symphony Of The
Breeze, La-Di-Da-Di-Da, The Monkey On A String (+Max Bacon).
[Vocal by Elsie Carlisle… Memories Of The May Fair (+Sam Browne), It’s The Talk
Of The Town.
Finally for 1933, here are some of the notable hits of that year that Ambrose
didn’t record but which might have been routinely featured: Blue Prelude, Carioca, Doin’ The Uptown Lowdown, Easter Parade, Everything I
Have Is Yours, Flying Down To Rio, The Flying Trapeze, Forty-Second Street, Heat
Wave, It’s Only A Paper Moon, A Hundred Years From Today, Let’s Fall In Love,
Love Is The Sweetest Thing, One Morning In May, The Old Spinning Wheel, Pettin’ In
The Park, The Physician, Shadow Waltz, Shuffle Off To Buffalo, Sophisticated Lady,
We’re In The Money, Who’s Afraid Of The Big Bad Wolf, Yesterdays, You’re Getting
To Be A Habit With Me.
As 1933 ended so too did those circumstances that had retarded Ambrose’s
progress to the pinnacle of success in the international danceband firmament. Only one
major problem remained – a personal psyche dominated by self-destructive
compulsions. As we shall see, this was one problem that could never be fully
overcome.
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© kamusico
IV
1934-1937
During an interview in the mid-1930s American bandleader Jimmy Dorsey described
the Ambrose Orchestra as: ‘The greatest danceband in the world’. Other top American
bandleaders, while not going quite so far, certainly acknowledged the Ambrose band’s
merit. Given the role that these bandleaders played in the development of the Swing
Era, and the fact that few accolades were awarded to Ambrose’s British
contemporaries, it is clear that there was certainly something special about his band.
Even so, we have to be quite clear what these flattering remarks referred to, namely the
Ambrose Orchestra as a jazz-oriented ‘danceband’ – not a jazz band, or even what we
would now call a ‘big band’. And because Ambrose didn’t make it into the ranks of the
great swing bands we must regard the years between 1934 and 1937 as the most
successful in his long career.
Ambrose’s decision to return to the Embassy Club may have been forced on
him by the circumstances of his sudden departure from the May Fair Hotel in the
summer of 1933, but the change certainly had its advantages. The financial situation
was eased because the Embassy had no difficulty in paying Ambrose what he wanted.
Another problem at the May Fair had been Ambrose’s all too frequent absences from
the bandstand, usually in connection with his band supply interests. At the Embassy he
could more or less come and go as he pleased (although he was generally in attendance
when the Prince of Wales came to the club). The fact that the Embassy management
didn’t allow broadcasting from its premises would have been a disadvantage had it not
been for the BBC’s willingness to allow Ambrose to present studio-based programmes
on Saturday evenings. Ambrose also used the Embassy’s nightly floorshow (for which
he had responsibility) to his advantage, using some of the singing acts as guests in his
radio shows. One clear disadvantage was the fact that the full band couldn’t be
accommodated on the club’s bandstand, so some players had be found other work
Monday-through-Friday. Another was the summer close-down – eight weeks for which
Ambrose was not paid. Although this could be off-set by lucrative summer
engagements on the Continent, players still had to have their regulatory two weeks
vacations. On the whole, though, the advantages seem to have outweighed the
disadvantages.
Neither the ambience nor the clientele of the Embassy Club had changed much
since Ambrose departed in 1927. It was still one of the most luxurious and exclusive
night clubs in the world. One slight difference was that its ‘invitation only’ policy to
membership now extended beyond the ranks of the aristocracy and included a select
number of super-rich self-made individuals. New Money was taking its place alongside
Old Money in the scheme of things - but then making a virtue out of necessity was
always part of High Society’s survival strategy. Anyway, the ‘snob factor’ was at least
partly satisfied by the willingness of ‘the powers that be’ to trade knighthoods for
donations of one sort or another to supposedly worthy causes of one sort or another.
Another point to be noted is that the Embassy’s clientele were much more jazz
oriented than the middle class patrons of the May Fair. To a large extent this reflected
the tastes of the Prince of Wales and Prince George, both of whom had more in
common with the small groups of ‘hot’ music fans, then coming into existence in
London and the provinces at the behest of the Melody Maker, than the average radio
listener or record buyer.
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Despite a busy broadcasting and recording schedule Ambrose found it
necessary to make a ‘secret’ trip to America in mid-January 1934. Only Joe Brannelly,
the band manager, was told about it just before Ambrose left. Naturally, after a few
days without Ambrose being around people started to ask where he was, and
Brannelly’s reply that he was ‘off with a cold’ didn’t fool them for long. Anyway, he
was spotted in New York by a vigilant Associated Press correspondent and the London
newspapers alerted. It says something for Ambrose’s emerging celebrity status that
such a matter could be of public interest.
On the other hand perhaps Ambrose was engaged in something important – like
entering into negotiations with the AFM to lift the embargo on British bands working
in the United States. After all, he was still an executive member of the Danceband
Directors’ Association (DBDA), which had an interest in bringing this about.
However, he also travelled to California and spent some time in Hollywood as a guest
of Rudy Vallee. This was reported in the British press, and when his manager couldn’t
shed any light on Ambrose’s shenanigans the rumours and innuendo back home simply
multiplied. Later, it emerged that Ambrose was indeed attempting to find ways round
the embargo…for his own band, having been offered a six-week summer engagement
at the famous Cocoanut Grove. This deal also included a twice-weekly CBS network
radio show, and a featured spot in an MGM film musical. This package had been put
together by Music Corporation of America (MCA) the agency that now represented
Ambrose’s interests in the United States. This was the first of six attempts that MCA
would make over the next fourteen years to present Ambrose (either with his own band
or an American substitute) ‘in person’. None would succeed and Ambrose’s many
admirers in the United States were obliged to make do with records and broadcasts.
Only a number of films released in America in the mid-to-late 1930s gave some idea of
the band’s visual element.
Another business deal that engaged Ambrose’s attention at this time came
about due to a dispute that had arisen between American promoter Irving Mills and
Jack Hylton (Mills’ representative in Britain). Mills wanted to bring over the Duke
Ellington and Fletcher Henderson bands later in 1934 and approached Ambrose to see
if he would promote these events. Consequently, Ambrose joined forces with top
British variety agent Harry Foster in an attempt to accommodate Irving Mills.
Discussions regarding these deals may also have taken place while Ambrose was in
New York. Oddly enough, he returned to Britain on the same ship as Cab Calloway’s
Cotton Club Orchestra, another Mills controlled band, en route to the London
Palladium and a tour of the United Kingdom…arranged by Jack Hylton. Odd indeed!
Ambrose arrived back in London only to become embroiled in a dispute
involving one of the radio shows transmitted during his absence. As usual for studiobased programmes, a play-list had been submitted to the BBC one week before the
show was due to go out. One of the items also featured on another list, sent to the BBC
by the Music Publishers Association (MPA). This specified numbers that were
‘prohibited from performance’. The BBC notified Ambrose’s office in writing, but no
action was taken and the item was subsequently broadcast. And this was considered to
be very naughty indeed by ‘the powers that BBC’ (a Max Bacon witticism!).
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Formal copyright laws came into being in Europe and the United States in the
early years of the 20th Century and subsequently became enforceable on a world-wide
basis through International Conventions. Until the late 1940s music publishers were
easily the most powerful group in the music industry. During this era it was virtually
impossible for a composer or songwriter to exploit his or her creative endeavours
without the backing of a publisher. In return for the transfer of copyright ownership
from the writer(s) to the publisher, the latter took care of the exploitation business and
split the proceeds (royalties) with the writer(s) on a fifty-fifty basis. How exploitation
was achieved was entirely up to the publisher. Usually the item in question was
released in sheet-music form in which case it could be freely performed in private
without further ado. However public performance was another matter, requiring
permission from the publisher. In other words, live performances had to be licensed
and the issuing of a licence was in the gift of the publisher. Although it was usually in
the interests of publishers to have their works publicly performed there were
circumstances where this was not the case. For example, a publisher might want to
reserve the first performance over the airwaves to a particular artist…or delay public
performance outside the US of a song from a Broadway stage show until the show
opened abroad. Essentially, then, the law gave publishers an absolute monopoly over
public performances of copyrighted material. Publishers also had the right to control
how a number was performed (the arrangement), although there were many
ambiguities far too tortuous to discuss here. Suffice to say that by the early 1930s the
legal status of arrangements hadn’t been clearly established by the courts.
The details of Ambrose’s inadvertent infringement of BBC rules were never
revealed at the time but it’s a safe bet that the item in question was something he
brought back from his summer visit to America. Because it was broadcast from a
studio rather than an outside location, the BBC and not Ambrose was legally
responsible for the infringement and presumably could have been sued by the MPA.
This didn’t happen, but nevertheless Ambrose had to be severely punished…like being
banished from the airwaves for the foreseeable future! In fact he was only off the air
for three months.
The immediate beneficiary of Ambrose’s departure from Broadcasting House
was Henry Hall, leader of the BBC Dance Orchestra. In fact, Henry Hall probably
didn’t want to take over yet another programme because he already had one late night
slot plus five day-time programmes each week, and also supplied music on an ad hoc
basis for various variety broadcasts. Another problem was that the BBC wished to keep
Ambrose’s programme style intact rather than reverting to the usual late night dance
music format. The fee that would normally have been paid to Ambrose was handed
over to Henry Hall specifically for hiring guest artists and special inclusions. For
Henry Hall this was something of a departure from his normal duties but he did what
was expected of him and by mid-April was presenting a radio show along the same
lines as Ambrose’s but with some essential differences. Well aware that the BBC
Dance Orchestra couldn’t match the prowess of the Ambrose band, Hall based the
programmes around his own presentational skills (by now well honed) and guest
artists, with the band functioning mainly as a backing outfit. Listeners seemed to find
this quite acceptable as a substitute for Ambrose’s weekly tour de force and so all was
well. These shows were called ‘HENRY HALL’S GUEST NIGHT’…and in time
became something of a National Institution.
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Henry Hall was both idolised and admonished because of what he was rather
than what he did. And what he was – the quintessential English gentleman – suited a
large section of the public. Listening to the radio remained a mainly middle class
pursuit until the late 1930s and Henry Hall’s approach to what he did meshed with
middle class expectations – which were essentially conservative. To some, the sounds
emanating from the BBC band were ‘corny’ (a phrase then being used in United States
jazz circles for bands like Guy Lombardo’s) - but such detractors were in the minority.
In fact Henry Hall deserves to be recognised for what he really was - the competent
leader of just one of several BBC musical outfits that did the best they could in the
difficult circumstances of live broadcasting and minimal funding.
Ambrose was one of those who (privately) considered the BBC band to be
‘corny’, and in the spring of 1934 he would hardly have considered Henry Hall a
‘gentleman’. Not because Henry’s endeavours succeeded his, but rather for ‘poaching’
one of Ambrose’s most prized sidemen – Bert Read. Of course Ambrose wasn’t above
a bit of ‘poaching’ himself and it was more the fact that Read was prepared to leave the
prestigious Ambrose band for a ‘corny’ outfit and take a massive cut in salary to boot.
Twenty-six year old Bert Read had been with Ambrose since 1928 and during the May
Fair years had flourished both as pianist and arranger. Apart from his unassuming but
highly effective contributions to the rhythm section, Bert had distinguished himself as
an improvising soloist and featured player. Along with fellow jazz pianist Slim Wilson,
Sam Browne and Elsie Carlisle, he had taken part in a number of variety theatre tours.
Despite all this he had become dissatisfied after the move to the Embassy Club and his
health began to suffer. Henry Hall belonged to the same golf club as Bert Read and
during a social event at which they were both present became aware of Bert’s situation
and subsequently offered him a job with the BBC Dance Orchestra. In fact Henry was
looking for a replacement pianist/arranger anyway. Even though the best that Henry
Hall could offer was £15/week (BBC rate) as opposed to Ambrose’s £30/week [about
£1,200 now], Bert Read accepted the offer and handed-in his notice.
At the time Ambrose was undergoing his suspension from the airwaves, and
had put together the stage show mentioned in the previous paragraph. He offered to
release Bert Read immediately if he agreed to continue with the stage show for a
month or so. Because work schedules didn’t clash Henry Hall had no objections and so
Bert Read started with the BBC band while he was still working for Ambrose. Ever
vigilant officials at the BBC found out and Bert was obliged to leave the stage show or
face dismissal. Despite this shaky start, Bert Read became a highly valued member of
the BBC band, and its growing reputation as a first-rate broadcasting outfit was largely
due to his influence. Certainly, he was one of the very few members of the BBC Dance
Orchestra to be regularly featured as a soloist and, as expected, contributed many fine
arrangements to the band’s book.
Bert Read’s replacement in the stage show was Eddie Carroll who had left the
BBC band after a fracas with Henry Hall, having been in post only a few weeks.
Carroll was a good jazz pianist and accordion player who had worked in various bands
and free-lanced for a number of years. Ambrose eventually came to regard him as
highly as he had Bert Read.
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While Eddie Carroll would only occupy an auxiliary position in the scheme of
things, Bert Read’s successor in the main orchestra was vitally important from the
start. Bert Barnes had been on the arranging team as a part-timer since October 1933
and had played with the band during Bert Read’s sick leaves. He grew up in Stoke-onTrent and took piano lessons from an early age and by his teens was a gifted amateur
player in the classical mode. On leaving school he trained as an engineer but during a
visit to Paris discovered avant-garde music and jazz! On returning to Britain he
switched to rhythmic playing and studied arranging techniques. By the early 1930s he
was playing in Reg Batten’s band at the Princes Restaurant and was also staff arranger
for a publishing company. He met Ambrose through a mutual friend – Arthur Young.
Barnes’ piano style was heavily influenced by Earl Hines and replicated many of
Hines’ innovative techniques. Unusually for a jazz pianist, he retained his classical
skills and could always dash-off a Chopin polonaise, or whatever, when required.
However, it was as a composer and arranger that Bert Barnes really made his mark and
had it not been for personal problems (he was a heavy drinker) his musical
accomplishments would have gained greater recognition and long-term success.
Another remarkable musician also came to Ambrose’s attention by way of
Arthur Young, namely Reginald Foresythe. He had an African father (a successful
lawyer) and an English mother and grew-up in Britain. After a public school education
he completed formal musical studies in London and then went to America where he
composed music for silent films and worked as an accompanist and freelance arranger.
By the late 1920s he was arranging for various bandleaders, including Earl Hines and
Wild Bill Davison, and playing piano with Paul Howard’s Serenaders. In 1933 he
returned to Britain and was befriended by Arthur Young. Ambrose soon became
convinced that Foresythe was a major new talent and in conjunction with Young
backed the formation of a band called ‘Reginald Foresythe & His New Music’. The
unusual line-up of this ten-piece band comprised a reeds section (including a bassoon
and two clarinets), a rhythm section…but no brass section.
Early in 1934 Ambrose put this band into a newly-opened nightspot in Regent
Street called the Café de la Paix. Unfortunately, customer response was the same as
had been met by Fred Elizalde when he took a band with advanced ideas into the
Savoy Hotel. The music was fine to listen to but when it came to dancing – forget it!
Ambrose had little choice but to withdraw Foresythe and substitute a conventional
danceband. Foresythe’s band continued as a recording and jazz club unit and Ambrose
broadcast and recorded several of Foresythe’s compositions. Just before going off the
air in March, Ambrose featured an instrumental number composed by Foresythe, called
Camembert, which was supposed to be a musical representation of the renowned
cheese! Many more followed, most with weird titles like Dodging A Divorcee,
Serenade For A Wealthy Widow, Autocrat For Breakfast, and Revolt Of The Yesmen.
No matter what they were called, Foresythe’s compositions invariably had a strange
and disturbing quality and it comes as no surprise that he became a close friend of Bert
Barnes, whose own compositions and arrangements often possessed dark undertones.
Lew Stone, Henry Hall and Paul Whiteman gave Foresythe’s output sympathetic
treatment, but most bandleaders shunned his work because of its seemingly sinister
qualities. In 1935 Foresythe briefly returned to New York and recorded some of his
compositions with an ad hoc band that included Benny Goodman and Gene Krupa.
Foresythe’s career never developed beyond its mid-1930s high point and after war
service in the RAF he sank into obscurity, playing piano in cocktail lounges until his
untimely death in the late 1950s
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Lou Simmonds was by early 1934 fronting a six-piece band at another
Ambrosian venue – the Henley Pavilion. Ambrose also provided a band around this
time for a high-class eatery called the Windsor Grill, which was led by yet another
outstanding pianist/vocalist/arranger/composer - Clive Erard. And we mustn’t forget
dependable Ernie Lewis, Ambrose’s erstwhile stand-in at the May Fair who was still
providing music for dancers at Murray’s Restaurant. This seems to have been the sum
total of Ambrose’s ‘other’ bands with permanent engagements, but he was still
supplying bands for gigs - ad hoc groups playing for debutants’ coming-out parties,
hunt balls, and similar private functions. Few of these required Ambrose’s presence,
but this could sometimes be arranged for an additional fee of £100 [about £4,000 now].
Ambrose returned to the airwaves on 9th June, but was now obliged to alternate
at fortnightly intervals with Henry Hall. In fact only four broadcasts were possible
before the end of July, after which Ambrose would be out of the country for the rest of
the summer. Not in America as originally planned (that deal had been scuppered by the
AFM), but in Biarritz. For eight weeks at the Bellevue Casino Ambrose was to receive
£16,000 [about £640,000 now], a staggering amount for the time. The deal included a
half-hour hook-up six nights a week to Radio-Toulouse, a popular Continental station.
No doubt the casino management calculated that a fair proportion of Ambrose’s
earnings would end-up back in their coffers - as indeed they did!
Two new regular inclusions in Ambrose’s revived radio shows were Helen
Howard, a girl vocalist still in her teens who was a protégé of Arthur Young – and an
American vocal group (two girls and a boy) called the Three Aces. Elisabeth Welch
got an early introduction to British radio audiences on one of Ambrose’s broadcasts.
Although primarily a stage and cabaret performer, this talented black American singer
soon became a favourite with listeners. After settling in Britain she became very
popular indeed, not least with Ambrose who would have secured her services full-time
if that had been at all possible.
Here’s the play-list for the broadcasts transmitted on Saturday 9th June 1934: When You Climb Those Golden Stairs.
The Very Thought Of You
Lady Of Madrid
Hebrew Dance Medley
Memphis By Morning
Cocktails For Two
Speakeasy
The Beat Of My Heart
Got The Jitters
St Louis Blues
White Heat
When a Woman Loves A Man
The Show Is Over.
Boulevard Of Broken Dreams
Tick Tock Town
Little Man You’ve Had A Busy Day
Quiere Me Mucho
When Day Is Done
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The remarks made previously regarding Ambrose’s broadcasting strategy are
merely reinforced by the above play-list. And this approach would remain in force for
the rest of the decade and beyond. The range of popular musical genres included in
each programme was a deliberate attempt to capture the attention of the widest possible
listening public. Moreover, so far as Ambrose was concerned, whatever the musical
idiom it had to be presented with the greatest degree of skill and authenticity possible.
The fact that a single musical entity could achieve all this is a tribute to the arrangers,
musicians and vocalists who participated. And this versatility was generalised and it is
difficult to think of any modern equivalent to the danceband, at least in the popular
music field. The sheer range and quantity of music performed by the top bands is
simply staggering by today’s standards.
In time, the various idioms would devolve and come into the possession of
specialist performers – jazz outfits and big bands, Latin American bands, strict-tempo
dancebands, concert orchestras, and – of course – song stylists. When the Ambrose
orchestra reached the peak of its success in the mid-1930s the trend towards the
fragmentation of popular music could already be discerned by astute observers, and for
some it couldn’t come soon enough. Jazz aficionados, light music fans, country music
fans, comedy buffs, dedicated ballroom dancers and those who appreciated singing
freed from ‘tempo-tyranny’ and the ‘one-chorus-only’ limitations imposed by
bandleaders found greater satisfaction in specialist performances. And generally,
consumers of broadcast variety weren’t particularly interested in musical perfection or
authenticity. Henry Hall’s utility music and musicians would do quite nicely thank you
very much!
As Ambrose and the main band headed for Biarritz early in August, Lou
Simmonds was despatched to Holland for a tour with a band roughly corresponding to
the Blue Lyres (this title, though, was dropped). A stage show comprising Elsie
Carlisle, Eddie Carroll and Bobby McGee (replacing Slim Wilson) set off on a tour of
selected British Holiday resorts, and Henry Hall once again had to cover Ambrose’s
radio slots. With the domestic side of things taken care of, the Ambrose band settled-in
at the magnificent Bellevue Casino set on a cliff overlooking the Gulf of Gascony. The
most distinguished personage holidaying in Biarritz that summer was the Prince of
Wales, and this meant that some of the Embassy Club’s clientele were there also. Quite
a ‘home-from-home’ considering that they had also brought their music with them!
The casino’s vast ballroom was renamed ‘Chez Ambrose’ for the duration, and as
expected did a roaring trade. Many high profile celebrities, like Hollywood stars Fred
Astaire and Jean Harlow, were in Biarritz that summer. Few of these would have
enjoyed the prestige that always came from being invited to play golf with the Prince
of Wales. Ambrose, however, was one of the few and as usual in such exalted
circumstances somehow contrived to lose (despite being a far better player). He also
reputedly lost £4,000 [about £160,000 now] at the gaming tables. Such goings-on were
faithfully noted by a gaggle of gossip columnists and subsequently relayed to
newspaper readers in Britain and America.
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Ambrose’s many less-well-heeled fans may have been deprived of his services
for the summer but had plenty to choose from in the way of record releases. Between
January and August Brunswick/UK issued around thirty new titles. These are the most
notable: [Vocal by Sam Browne…My Hat’s On The Side Of My Head, On A Steamer
Coming Over, You Ought To See Sally On Sunday, You Oughta’ Be In Pictures,
The Show Is Over, The Beat Of My Heart (+Choir), When You Climb Those Golden
Stairs, I’ll Follow My Secret Heart, Shut The Door They’re Coming Through The
Window (+Max Bacon), Close You’re Eyes, Did You Ever See A Dream Walking,
Unless, Wagon Wheels, Play To Me Gypsy, Because It’s Love, Gee Oh Gosh I’m
Grateful, One Morning In May, Emaline, Hand In Hand, Cupid We’ll All Go
Riding On A Rainbow, Boulevard Of Broken Dreams, Faint Harmony. [Vocal by
Elsie Carlisle… Little Man You’ve Had a Busy Day, This Little Piggy Went To
Market. [Instrumental… Tick-Tock Town.
.
These were the final releases on the Brunswick label (Warner-Brunswick in the
United States). Just before Ambrose left for Biarritz he had concluded a deal with
Decca that involved a switch from Brunswick to Decca’s ‘Blue & Gold’ label. Decca,
of course also owned Brunswick/UK so the transfer was straightforward. The
arrangement with Warner-Brunswick could have continued, but Decca was pulling all
its British artists out of such arrangements because a new company had been launched
in America under the aegis of Decca/UK. This came about after a bid with RCA to
jointly purchase Columbia/US fell through (it was trouble over this that caused Jack
Hylton to quit as a director of Decca). The new American company was headed by
Jack Kapp, former boss of Warner-Brunswick. He had a financial stake in the new
company and was given virtual carte-blanche to run it as he saw fit. He lost no time in
signing-up top American artists, some from Brunswick like Bing Crosby, the Boswell
Sisters and the Casa Loma Orchestra.
Ambrose’s transfer to Decca meant that he could now expect to sell a lot more
records - primarily because the ‘Blue & Gold’ label sold for one shilling and sixpence
as opposed to Brunswick’s two shillings and sixpence [one shilling then would equal
about £2 now]. The new contract also allowed for releases in the United States at the
discretion of the American company (Jack Kapp remained significantly favourable
towards Ambrose’s output). What kind of a royalty deal Ambrose was able to negotiate
with Decca/UK is not known but he did get an advance of £10,000 [about £400,000
now], so it would be quite some time before he got any royalties. It seems that he did
have an assurance from Decca boss Sir Edward Lewis that he would be able to record
some of his less commercial material.
The American releases were of great importance to Ambrose, and consolidated
his reputation as a purveyor of quality popular music. Some of the HMV/Gramophone
titles released in earlier years were still selling well, but it was the Decca/US releases
that would propel Ambrose into the mainstream of American popular music. Other
British-based bandleaders also had successes in the American record market, including
Jack Hylton, Harry Roy, Lew Stone, Billy Cotton, and Roy Fox…but only Ambrose
achieved long-term success and a significant following in the United States that would
last well into the 1940s.
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Ambrose became aware at the end of July that a return to the airwaves in the
autumn was assured. Moreover, he would be restored to a weekly slot, but even better
than before alternating late-evening/early-evening programmes were scheduled. The
early evening Saturday slot was particularly important because it attracted a family
audience that included the younger generation. The reason for Ambrose’s return to
favour had much to do with audience reaction to his absence from the airwaves in the
spring. At this time the BBC had no audience research facility, but note was taken of
listeners comments sent to the Corporation by mail. Also, the radio correspondents of
national and provincial newspapers wielded a great deal of influence. But even more
important than these factors was the near panic that had gripped the upper echelons of
the BBC (for which read ‘British Establishment’) when a viable alternative to BBC
programmes appeared on the scene in mid-1934. This was Radio Luxembourg, a
Continental radio station founded by commercial interests. Of course people had been
free to tune-in to overseas stations for many years (not even the British Establishment
would have resorted to ‘jamming’). The Radio Times even provided helpful
information regarding foreign broadcasts, safe in the knowledge that few in Britain
would understand the lingo (except in the case of Irish and American programmes,
emanating from countries with whom friendly relations existed). But Luxembourg was
different – the programmes were being presented in English and consisted almost
entirely of variety performed by popular British and American artists. What made this
so easily achievable was the introduction around 1933 of ‘electrical transcription’.
Since the late 1920s much research effort had been put into perfecting a means
by which radio programmes could be pre-recorded for later transmission. Initially, it
was American network companies that sponsored this work because they had a
particular problem in transmitting ‘coast-to-coast’ programmes across a number of
time-zones. Take the case of Paul Whiteman’s radio show. In order to attract maximum
commercial sponsorship this show had to be made available to the largest possible
audience. Consequently, it would take place in a New York studio and then be relayed
by landline (telephone wires) to the various radio stations around the United States
affiliated to the network company. If Whiteman’s programme went out at 9pm in New
York, the time in New Orleans would be 8pm, in Phoenix 7pm, and in Los Angeles
6pm. However, if the programme was recorded during its New York transmission, it
could subsequently be transmitted at hourly intervals by land-line to radio stations in
the four time-zones. So far as the whole of the United States was concerned Paul
Whiteman’s radio show was ‘on the air’ at 9pm.
The recording process was called ‘electrical transcription’ and the most
convenient method was found to be recording direct onto 16 inch diameter discs that
revolved at 33⅓ rpm. Each single-sided disc provided 15 minutes playing time and
because all the intermediate processes required for manufacturing normal records
weren’t necessary the transcription disc gave sound reproduction approaching ‘high
fidelity’. This was of particular interest to American radio stations transmitting with
minimal interference - so-called ‘clear stations’.
As in Britain, broadcasting contracts were eagerly sought by American
bandleaders. Apart from live studio-based and (from the mid-1930s) pre-recorded
programmes, many venues had facilities for live broadcasting. The most famous
establishments that employed ‘name bands’ were generally hooked-up to network
companies like NBC and CBS, but local radio stations also transmitted a great deal of
live dance music and were equally important for small-time dancebands.
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Britain didn’t have a time-zone problem but after 1932 the BBC became
involved with broadcasting on a world-wide basis. This was the year that the shortwave Empire Broadcasting Service was inaugurated. The ability to transmit prerecorded programmes on this service was clearly an advantage. By 1933 the BBC was
experimenting with a steel wire recording system and elsewhere a basic magnetic-tape
recording machine was being developed. After they became feasible, electrical
transcription systems attracted the attention of independent broadcasting promoters in
Britain. The idea was to produce and record programmes in Britain, transport the
recordings to a radio station situated on the Continent (outside the jurisdiction of the
UK government) and then broadcast the programmes with sufficient strength to be
receivable in Britain. The programmes would be sponsored by commercial interests
and hence paid for by means of advertising over the airwaves. This was one sure way
of breaking the BBC monopoly. The fact that powerful press barons and supposedly
dubious show business interests were backing such things was not lost on the British
Establishment, but an even greater fear revolved around the notion that political
propaganda might also be broadcast from such stations if the business interests
supporting them felt so inclined.
But why should listeners in Britain prefer to tune-in to a commercial radio
station? Not specifically to hear advertising jingles and slogans but more likely
because they weren’t getting what they wanted from the BBC. And what a majority of
listeners at the time wanted was light entertainment, as poll after poll conducted by
newspapers amply showed. Variety always came out on top. Of course the BBC was
providing a great deal of variety at this time, and subsequent research has shown that
the proportion of programmes devoted to light entertainment compares quite
favourably with Continental radio stations (though not American ones). There was
clearly a problem that might have something to do with quality rather than quantity.
Anyway the BBC had to give two things immediate attention in order to prevent Radio
Luxembourg becoming too successful – spice-up light entertainment, and keep as
many major British broadcasting artists ‘on the side of the angels’ as possible. One
consequence of this was the appointment of Eric Maschwitz as Head of Light
Entertainment. He was a dynamic, almost Hyltonian, figure. An ‘ideas man’ with wide
show business experience and always half-an-eye on American practices. Apart from
enabling Henry Hall to expand and improve the BBC Dance Orchestra Maschwitz was
responsible for Ambrose’s full broadcasting restoration, and the general increase in
fees paid to bandleaders.
For a year or so the BBC successfully persuaded many artists who broadcast
over its airwaves to stay off Radio Luxembourg but in the end the temptation became
too great, and because this station (and others that inevitably followed) was so
successful many simply didn’t care whether they worked for the BBC or not!
Eventually, the BBC reached an accommodation both with artists and the commercial
radio stations. Whether BBC boss Sir John Reith liked it or not, competition of sorts
had arrived and a less formal, less paternalistic approach to broadcasting had to be
adopted. Being a realist Sir John was well aware that he would have to make changes
or be awarded the Order of the Boot rather than the peerage he desired. Gradually, the
BBC got a lot less stuffy and by the time another war temporarily removed Continental
competition it was too late to turn the clock back.
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Immediately after returning from Biarritz, Ambrose was obliged to make some
changes to the main orchestra. Here’s the new line-up: AMBROSE & HIS EMBASSY CLUB ORCHESTRA
Director:
Brass:
Reeds:
Rhythm:
Strings:
Vocals:
Arrangers:
Harry Owen (trumpet)*
Lew Davis (trombone)
Ted Heath (trombone)*
Tony Thorpe (trombone)*
Joe Jeanette (alto/clarinet/flute/+arranger)*
Bert Barnes (piano/+arranger)
Dick Ball (bass)
Reg Pursglove (violin/+deputy)…et al.
Sam Browne
Elsie Carlisle*
The Rhythm Sisters (Kay Munroe-Smythe + 2 others)*
The Rhythm Brothers (Clive Erard + 2 others)*
Sid Phillips (chief)
Ronnie Munro
Arthur Lally
Names in bold type formed the actual Embassy Club band.
Players underline also formed a special group called AMBROSE’S EMBASSY
RHYTHM EIGHT.
One significant change was the addition of ace trombonist Lew Davis, who had
just left Lew Stone’s band. He first came to prominence in Jack Hylton’s brass section
in the late 1920s and was by this time a highly regarded lead player and soloist.
Soloing ability doesn’t always go with the ability to get the best out of colleagues
while leading, but Lew Davis (like Danny Polo) was good at both. The fact that there
were now three trombones enabled arrangers to adopt a chordal approach when scoring
for the trombones. Ambrose was certainly not the first bandleader in Britain to use
three trombones, and some top American bands had been doing so since the late 1920s.
However the fact that the trombones outnumbered the trumpets was hailed as
something revolutionary – although in reality it wasn’t as significant as forming
distinct trombone and trumpet sections, which Ambrose still wasn’t inclined to do. At
least nominally, Max Goldberg remained in charge of a unified brass section.
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One consequence of the new line-up was that Ambrose could now accept an
offer from Jimmy and Tommy Dorsey to exchange arrangements on a regular basis.
The Dorsey Brothers Orchestra recorded for Decca/US and some of its output was
released in the United Kingdom. The agreement was that each band would promote
certain of the other’s titles over the radio and elsewhere. Over the following eight
months Ambrose featured a number of Dorsey Brothers instrumental numbers over the
air and at concerts, and vice-versa. In this way the Dorsey Brothers band helped to
popularise certain Ambrose titles after they had been released by Decca/US.
Sid Phillips remained in the augmented band on baritone and clarinet, again
being primarily required to reinforce the ensemble playing, although an occasional
clarinet solo in Sid’s distinctive style can be discerned on some recordings. Having left
the Lawrence Wright publishing concern, he now worked part-time for music publisher
Campbell Connolly, and so made arrangements for other bandleaders including Billy
Cotton and Henry Hall, although most of his time was spent working with the
Ambrose band. Apart from sitting-in with the band, his duties included co-ordinating
the arranging team (a task that Ambrose had undertaken since the departure of Lew
Stone). Sid Phillips was now given the title - ‘orchestrator-in-chief’.
Bert Barnes’ arrival in the rhythm section was outlined earlier, and there had
been no further changes since. Reg Pursglove continued to oversee the string section
whenever it came into being. This usually comprised three violins although a harp was
occasionally in evidence during studio broadcasts. Reg was also given the title ‘deputy
leader’ and obliged to stand-in for Ambrose at the Embassy Club as and when
required.
Clive Erard, who had formerly led the small band at the Windsor Grill, was
now playing at the Café de la Paix. He was also the lead singer with the (nominally)
freelance vocal group called the Rhythm Brothers. At this time the other two members
of the group varied. Clive Erard arranged most of the cowboy songs that were such an
essential part of the radio shows, as well as some of the numbers that featured his vocal
group. He also composed the music for some of the special comedy numbers that
Ambrose commissioned. Ronnie Munro continued to arrange many of the set-piece
concert numbers that were regularly broadcast.
To supply lyrics for comedy items, including monologues for Max Bacon, and
write compère scripts, Ambrose hired a young journalist, poet and playwright called
Ray Sonin whose amusing contributions to the Melody Maker had caught Ambrose’s
eye. Ray Sonin also worked closely with Sid Phillips who was additionally charged
with formulating and directing any stage performances undertaken by the main band or
smaller groups. This was something of a new venture for him, but characteristically he
tackled the job with enthusiasm and soon developed into a first-rate stage director. For
most of the rest of the 1930s Sid devised and directed Ambrose’s stage shows. He
designed the props, which often included ingenious collapsible features to aid
portability, and paid great attention to stage lighting techniques. The Ambrose stage
shows under Sid’s direction were quite spectacular affairs, and he deserves much of the
credit for this.
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With a heavy schedule of recording sessions for Decca and weekly broadcasts
Ambrose found it impossible to take the main band out on a proposed autumn tour of
London variety theatres, although part of the unit that played at the Embassy Club did
undertake a number of evening shows at West End cinemas. For such purposes it was
re-named Ambrose’s Embassy Rhythm Eight. Sam Browne provided the vocal output
and the shows lasted about half an hour. The same outfit later made some highly
acclaimed records for Decca, and these may be taken to represent how the band at the
Embassy Club sounded. As on these recordings, it was much jazzier than might have
been expected for a club band, but then this particular club catered for a clientele
whose tastes hadn’t changed much since the Roaring Twenties (when most of them
were, like the Prince of Wales, in their twenties). In the confines of the club the band
didn’t play so loud, but it did play in a jazz style.
It was also around this time that a short film featuring the Ambrose band
appeared. When it was shot is not known, but presumably early in 1934. No details of
its contents have come to light because no copies seem to have survived. Only the title
‘SURPRISE ITEM’ is known, and the name of the concern that made it – International
Productions. There are some grounds for believing that it was made for showing at the
1934 Radiolympia exhibition, and was possibly sponsored by the BBC.
One big private function for which Ambrose did front a band took place in the
autumn of 1934. This was a ball celebrating the wedding of Prince George and
Princess Marina – the Duke and Duchess of Kent. This was the same George who
occasionally liked to sit-in with the Embassy Club band - he was an enthusiastic jazz
pianist. By 1934 the depravity into which he sank in the 1920s had long since given
way to respectability, although he still frequented the Embassy, along with the Prince
of Wales, and still liked to ‘tickle the ivories’ once in a while. Both princes took a great
deal of interest in the Ambrose band, and would often invite their favourite maestro
over to their respective alcoves to discuss musical topics. This was quite a privilege
and undoubtedly made some of the regular patrons rather envious, craving as most did
for the slightest acknowledgement that their existence and role in the scheme of things
actually mattered.
As Christmas approached the Decca/UK catalogue contained over twenty
Ambrose titles. These are the most notable:[Vocal by Sam Browne…Just A-wearyin’ For You, La Cucaracha, I Travel Alone,
Stars Fell On Alabama, I Only Have Eyes For You, Dames, The Moon Was Yellow,
Lost In A Fog, Stay Sweet As You Are, It’s A Parade, I’m Gonna Wash My Hands
Of You (+Elsie Carlisle), No No A Thousand Times No (+Elsie Carlisle). Who’s Been
Polishing The Sun (+Rhythm Sisters), Let’s Make Love (+Elsie Carlisle). [Vocal by
Elsie Carlisle… My Old Flame, Smoke Gets In Your Eyes, Who Made Little Boy
Blue. [Vocal by Rhythm Sisters… I Couldn’t Be Mean To You, College Rhythm.
[Instrumentals… Medley Of Hebrew Dances, The Continental,
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Only one record was released by Decca/US before the end of 1934 - Just Awearyin’ For You/I Travel Alone. Jack Hylton, Lew Stone and Roy Fox each had
several records released by Decca/US before Ambrose. How selections were made for
the American market is not known, except that decisions were made in America not
Britain regarding which titles should be released and which two titles should feature on
a particular record. It seems likely that the whole of Decca/UK’s popular output was
forwarded to Decca/US (possibly as test pressings) followed by stamping plates for
any titles requested – but there were alternative methods coming into use. Decca/US
steadily increased its roster of home-based talent and British-based artists consequently
got fewer releases in America. Sir Edward Lewis chose not to interfere with Jack
Kapp’s selection policies but later launched what would come to be known as the
‘Anglo-American Series’ by means of which certain of Decca/UK’s ‘F’-series records
would be manufactured and distributed in America. The important point here is that the
risk of releasing dud titles was borne by the separate companies and it really came
down to a question of judgement as to what would sell well in America. One problem
arising from all this is that we can’t be sure which company had the lion’s share of
Ambrose’s successes in America in those cases where the same title was issued by
both concerns. Rather than be too finicky about this point Ambrose’s American
releases will not be delineated, however it is important to bear in mind that US release
dates could be months – in some cases years – later than release dates in Britain.
Finally for 1934 we must take a look at some of the hits not recorded, but
possibly featured, by Ambrose: All I Do Is Dream Of You, All Through The Night, Autumn In New York, Carry Me
Back To The Lone Prairie, Cocktails For Two, Easy Come Easy Go, For All We Know,
I Only Have Eyes For You, I Took My Harp To A Party, Isle Of Capri, June In
January, Love In Bloom, Moonglow, El Rancho Grande, Rolling Home, Tumbling
Tumbleweeds, What A Difference A Day Made, Winter Wonderland, What A Little
Moonlight Can Do, What Can You Give A Nudist On His Birthday.
Some of these titles, along with some featured by Ambrose on records and over
the air, are still familiar today because they became ‘evergreens’. What really
impresses though is the sheer versatility of musical styles adopted by popular
tunesmiths of the time. True, these styles fall into certain categories like romantic
ballads, show tunes, cowboy songs, Latin American exotica and comedy numbers, but
on the whole there really was ‘something for everyone’ – at least in the ordinary
family.
The last important event of 1934 for the Ambrose band was a special Christmas
Day broadcast that went out at teatime. It is quite possible that upwards of twenty
million people listened to this Christmas broadcast. Numbers like Winter Wonderland,
Snowman and Santa Claus Is Coming To Town were popular that Christmas, and
Ambrose had a big recorded hit around this time with a medley of songs from Walt
Disney’s highly acclaimed cartoon ‘short’ ‘SILLY SYMPHONIES’, then on release in
Britain.
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Ambrose’s ‘late night alternating with early evening’ Saturday broadcasts
continued throughout the first seven months of 1935. For broadcasts the Embassy band
was always augmented and if an arrangement warranted an irregular instrument then
someone would be hired to play it. And so we find bongo drums, accordion, oboe,
harmonica, marimba, claves, Hawaiian guitar, and a range of Latin American
percussion, included at one time or another. Significantly, though, the jazz-based
numbers were generally confined to that unit within the orchestra corresponding to the
Embassy Rhythm Eight.
The ‘band-within-a-band’ concept was also extended to an instrumental group
called the Trombone Trio (Lew Davis, Ted Heath and Tony Thorpe), which with
minimal rhythm backing produced some interesting sounds. Two regular features were
concerto-like arrangements featuring either Bert Barnes at the piano or Reg Pursglove
on violin. Barnes arranged and performed several of George Gershwin’s semi-classical
numbers, including Rhapsody In Blue, Rhapsody No.2 and Concerto In F-major.
Another occasional inclusion was a ‘two pianos’ feature involving Arthur Young and
Reginald Foresythe playing numbers that they composed in collaboration. These often
had strange titles like Pub Crawl, Get Lost and Sliced Bread but were generally well
received.
Also highly acclaimed were the contributions of the regular vocalists. Sam
Browne and Elsie Carlisle usually combined for a duet at least once per programme in
addition to their usual solo spots. But the really innovative vocal feature was the
combination of the Rhythm Sisters and Rhythm Brothers, forming a six-piece choir.
Bert Barnes made several remarkable arrangements featuring this choir (only one of
which – The Beat Of My Heart - was recorded).
Some notable stage and screen stars contributed to Ambrose’s cabaret shows
and/or broadcasts in 1934/35 including Elisabeth Welch, Turner Layton, Alberta
Hunter, Jessie Matthews, Gracie Fields, Jack Buchanan, and Arthur Tracy (the Street
Singer). At the time Ambrose’s BBC band shows were being hailed in some quarters
as – RADIO’S MIGHTIEST ATTRACTION. An exaggeration no doubt, but the point
was not lost on variety impresarios and not surprisingly tour promotion offers started
to arrive on Ambrose’s desk. Nor were film backers slow to recognise the potential that
Ambrose represented, resulting in further offers. By Easter 1935 Ambrose was
negotiating a three phase touring schedule that was to comprise a nationwide summer
tour sandwiched between two London tours – each phase to last for six weeks. For this
package Ambrose insisted on a minimum advance of £18,000 [about £720,000 now].
The nature of the deal meant that early evening broadcasts could continue until the
summer tour started, but a substitute band would be required at the Embassy Club for
two of the six-week phases (the Embassy, of course, closed-down for the summer). It
was agreed that Reg Pursglove would deputise for Ambrose during his absences.
Before the tour deal and schedule had been finalised Ambrose, in association
with the Melody Maker and the London and Provincial Opera Co., arranged a special
one-off concert at the Royal Opera House in Covent Garden. Because it was to be held
on a Sunday any profits had to be donated to charity. Not surprisingly Ambrose chose
the Musicians’ Union Benevolent Fund as the recipient. But would there be any
profit? Some at the time doubted whether a concert by a mere danceband could
generate sufficient interest to make hiring a two-thousand capacity opera house
worthwhile. In the event, Ambrose’s ‘GRAND CONCERT IN RHYTHM’ did make a
profit and just over 1600 tickets were sold for the show that took place on the 30th
June.
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For this concert the orchestra had the same line-up as shown on page 141
except that a third trumpet (Clinton Ffrench) and a second guitar (Jack Cooper) were
added. Reg Leopold and Hugo Rignold joined Reg Pursglove in the string section.
Vocal talent taking part in the concert comprised regulars Elsie Carlisle, the Rhythm
Sisters and the Rhythm Brothers (the absence of Sam Browne will be explained later).
As with Ambrose’s broadcasts and cabaret shows, it was intended to include a number
of guest artists but no names are available. Entirely reliable details of the Royal Opera
House concert programme have not been found but the following items are known to
have been included: B’Wanga (comp/arr. Phillips)
Danse Fantastique* (comp/arr. Phillips)
Square Face (arr. Phillips)
Star Dust (arr. Phillips) – featuring Reg Pursglove
Ritual Fire Dance (arr. Ambrose)
Thames Rhapsody* (comp/arr. Young) – featuring Arthur Young
Melancholy Clown* (comp/arr. Foresythe)
Lament For Congo (arr. Barnes)
Dodging A Divorcee (arr. Barnes)
Three Of A Kind – featuring the Trombone Trio and rhythm section
Tiger Rag (arr. Erard) – featuring the Rhythm Brothers/Max Bacon
…and possibly** the following: Dance Of The Goblins (comp/arr. Phillips)
Rhythm Is Our Business (arr. Munro) – featuring: Max Bacon (drums),
Danny Polo (clarinet), Lew Davis (trombone), Max Goldberg (trumpet)
Memphis Blues (arr. Boswell) – featuring the Rhythm Sisters.
When Day Is Done (arr. Munro) – special concert version.
*Specially composed for concert. **Certainly included in subsequent concerts.
Much effort went into the visual presentation of this concert under the direction
of Sid Phillips. A special three-tier arrangement was adopted with the rhythm section
located top/back; trombones, fiddles and two grand pianos occupying the middle tier;
trumpets and saxes fronting at stage level. The stage drapes were grey and black and
the music desks sported gold-trimmed black bannerettes embroidered with an ‘A’. The
specially tailored band suits were in grey flannel and Ambrose wore a navy blue blazer
and cream flannels. As usual with stage presentations, he abandoned his fiddle in
favour of a baton, but unusually acted as MC (a role allotted to Sam Browne on
broadcasts). Needless to say the girls taking part were provided with stunning gowns.
Indeed, everything possible was done to match the glittering ambience of Britain’s
premier opera house, right down to the (subsequently elusive) gold-trimmed souvenir
programmes.
Before the concert Ambrose hosted a reception and buffet lunch for music
critics, show business correspondents and a number of celebrities and music industry
big-wigs at the Savoy Hotel. The intention was clearly to ensure that those specially
invited to the concert were in the right frame of mind to appreciate what was on offer,
although with hindsight it indicates the nervousness of the concert’s promoters
regarding the cultural legitimacy of what they were attempting to do.
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In fact the concert was highly acclaimed at least by the popular press. Here is
just one quote: - ‘This event provided the answer to the question…can the higher forms
of jazz ever be worth the serious attentions of music lovers?…to judge from audience
reaction the answer was an emphatic yes!’ – DAILY SKETCH.
Perhaps of greater importance to Ambrose was the fact that publicity
surrounding the concert generated even greater demand than before among the public
at large to actually see the band in action. Variety impresarios now became more
willing to meet Ambrose’s demands for above usual touring advances and by early
July the deals for the summer and autumn tours had been concluded in Ambrose’s
favour.
It would seem, then, that Ambrose was riding the crest of a wave in terms of
popular success, but as with most things Ambrosian the sailing was anything but plain.
A week or so before the concert, and during the middle of rehearsals for it, Sam
Browne and Ambrose fell-out. What the dispute was about remains a mystery, but the
result was Sam’s sudden departure from the scene. Although Ambrose publicly
brushed aside the importance of this at the time, he was privately mortified and not just
for commercial reasons. Things got even more acrimonious just after the concert when
a variety promoter persuaded Elsie Carlisle and Kay Munroe-Smythe (of the Rhythm
Sisters) that they could make a great deal of money by teaming-up with their erstwhile
colleague for a rival variety tour. Within the space of three weeks Ambrose lost twothirds of the vocal power that had ensured his recent broadcasting success.
As an immediate but temporary replacement Ambrose hired a popular
singer/actor of the time called Donald Stewart, but it was second guitarist Jack Cooper
who achieved permanent status in the vocal department. From childhood his singing
voice had attracted attention and after leaving school he played guitar and sang with
semi-pro bands. Then followed a spell with Tommy Kinsman’s society band, after
which he joined Reginald Foresythe. Ambrose appreciated Jack Cooper’s talents but
soon became irritated with his frequent bouts of ill-health. He suffered from asthma
and a number of other debilitating ailments that dogged him throughout his career, and
he was undoubtedly a natural loner. None of these things endeared him to Ambrose.
For Elsie Carlisle, Ambrose could find no immediate permanent replacement so
he called on the services of Helen Howard, Arthur Young’s protégé. Like Donald
Stewart, she had made occasional contributions to the radio shows. For some reason
Ambrose didn’t use her for recording purposes, and like Donald Stewart she only took
part in the various engagements that comprised the first phase of the tour.
The failure to find some headlining vocal talent for the summer and autumn
tours was beginning to worry Ambrose - then he had a brainwave. The previous year
he had sat-in on a cabaret act at the Grosvenor House Hotel called ‘FELIX FERRY’S
FOLLIES’. This act was on a six-month tour of Europe and Ambrose had been
particularly impressed by a young girl performer called Evelyn Dall - and there was
much to be impressed with! One year on it occurred to Ambrose that she would be an
ideal attraction in his summer tour and got MCA to trace her agent in New York. At
this time she was appearing at a night club in Manhattan and as this engagement was
coming to an end she authorised her agent to discuss terms with Ambrose. These
proved to be particularly attractive for the proposed six-week engagement and Evelyn
accepted. Neither Evelyn nor Ambrose could have possibly imagined that she would
still be around six years later! Because of her significance in the development of the
Ambrose Orchestra in its heyday we must take a closer look at her background and
career before she appeared on the British show business scene.
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Evelyn Dall grew-up in New York City and attended dancing school while still
a child. At the age of fifteen she joined a slap-stick stage act but after taking lessons
from voice coach Al Seigel she sang in night clubs and on radio shows, including one
hosted by comedian Milton Berle. As well as singing Evelyn made a couple of musical
comedy shorts at the Warner Brothers studio in New York. Subsequently she was
spotted by impresario Felix Ferry who was casting for a show that successfully toured
Europe in 1934.
Subsequently Evelyn joined a stage show that toured major US cities, but in the
spring of 1935 returned to New York and successfully auditioned for a part in the
Theatre Guild production ‘PARADE’ that opened in Boston and then transferred to
Broadway. The star of the show was singer/comedian Jimmy Savo, with Evelyn Dall
and actress/singer Eve Arden in top supporting roles. Despite reasonable notices the
show only ran for forty performances. Evelyn then returned to cabaret and radio work
and was so engaged when the offer from Ambrose came through.
Evelyn arrived in Britain on the first Monday in August. The band was just
starting its second week at the London Palladium. Prior to this a number of
engagements at South Coast resorts had been undertaken including concerts at
Brighton, Eastbourne, Folkestone and Margate. Ambrose also presided over a number
of gala dances at London suburban dancehalls including the Hammersmith Palais and
Streatham Locarno.
The studio broadcasts came to an end on 10th August having run continuously
at weekly intervals since January. Evelyn Dall made her broadcasting debut with
Ambrose on this last broadcast. The next day she set-off with Ambrose and the band
for Liverpool and the start of the summer tour. The first song that Ambrose gave her to
sing was South American Joe.
The touring stage band had the following line-up: AMBROSE & HIS EMBASSY CLUB ORCHESTRA
Director:
Brass:
Reeds:
Rhythm:
Vocals:
Bert Ambrose
Danny Polo (alto/clarinet)
Joe Jeanette (alto/clarinet/flute)
Sid Phillips (baritone/bass clarinet)
Bert Barnes (piano)
Dick Ball (bass)
Evelyn Dall
Jack Cooper
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Ambrose’s provincial tour started in the North West, then moved to the North
East, then to Scotland and finally to the Midlands. The schedule was gruelling. Apart
from appearing in major variety theatres on weekdays, four major Sunday concerts
took place as well as a number of afternoon ballroom engagements at sea-side resorts,
including Southport and Scarborough. The logistics of getting the band from ‘A’ to ‘B’
were quite complicated given the tight time schedules, but Ambrose always ensured
that it was done in as much comfort as possible. No long-distance coach journeys
through the night but rather first-class train travel with sleeper facilities. No grubby
theatrical digs but rather comfortable hotels with a coach provided to transport band
members to and from engagements. Ambrose also paid for the food and drink
whenever the band stopped somewhere for a meal en route to an engagement.
The tour, which ended towards the end of September, was a success, but there
was no doubt what guaranteed that success – the inclusion of Evelyn Dall! In the best
traditions of show business she ‘stole the show’, a point that was not lost on observers
reporting on Ambrose’s progress in the national press. Here’s what one correspondent
had to say; Evelyn Dall: nineteen, or near enough; hair like the Golden Fleece; lips the
colour of holly berries; voice which in its hard American way could do as much
damage as Lorelei – given the same chance…Evelyn has been appearing with
Ambrose and his Embassy Club orchestra in the provinces and in Scotland.
They shook Glasgow like a depth charge, and the theatre records were
smashed. Icy Edinburgh melted. Prophets say Evelyn will ‘slay’ London when
Ambrose returns.
When Evelyn in a sheath-like black dress comes on and sings ‘South
American Joe’ you see personality come from the simmer to the boil. At the
‘mike’ she is vibrant, vital, vivid…she was an eyeful on Broadway, but in
Glasgow’s Sauchiehall Street she distracted the traffic. Evelyn is full of the
awareness, the alertness and the capacity for enjoying new sensations which
stamp young women from New York. Ambrose drove her down to an Ayrshire
town where he was to play cricket…but motor racing is a better sport to watch,
in Evelyn’s opinion. She told me how she had driven over the Grande Corniche
from Monte Carlo in a racing Bugatti, at abundant peril to life and limb.
Evelyn doesn’t drink, her hobby is sleeping and she like places where things
happen.
One spin-off from taking the band out on tour was increased record sales in
those areas where the band appeared. Decca’s publicity department always ensured
that record stores in the provincial cities where the band played were provided with
extra stocks and also supported special promotions coinciding with the band’s
appearances. By the summer of 1935 Ambrose had sixty records – one hundred and
twenty titles – listed in the Decca/UK catalogue. This represents a staggering output
for ten months - the equivalent now to three CD albums. What’s more most were
enjoying buoyant sales figures. Some of these early Decca records would remain in the
catalogue until the final deletion of 78rpm records in the mid-1950s. Another point of
interest is that his HMV and Brunswick/UK releases were still selling well with very
few deletions to date.
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Ambrose’s prolific output of recorded music means that it is now difficult to
list even the most notable titles. The best that can now be done is to present a
‘representative sample’ at intervals, although most of the American releases and
instrumentals will be included. Here then is the representative sample of titles released
between January and August 1935: [Vocal by Sam Browne … London On A Rainy Night, I’m On A See- Saw, Be Still
My Heart, Ali Baba, The Object Of My Affection, Easter Parade, Rain, I’ve Got A
Note, She Wore A Little Jacket Of Blue, Caramba, All Through The Night,
Anything Goes, You’re The Top, Argentina, I Get A Kick Out Of You, You And
The Night And The Music, Zing Went The Strings Of My Heart, The Girl With The
Dreamy Eyes, When Day Is Done (+Rhythm Sisters), Lullaby Of Broadway
(+Rhythm Brothers). Its Home (+Rhythm Sisters), Rock And Roll (+Rhythm Sisters),
Winter Wonderland (+Rhythm Sisters), Everything Is Hunky Dooly (+Max Bacon).
[Vocal by Elsie Carlisle… My Kid’s A Crooner, His Majesty The Baby, Home
James And Don’t Spare The Horses, My Old Flame. [Vocal by the Rhythm
Sisters… Snowman, Back To Those Happy Days, On The Good Ship Lollypop,
Memphis Blues, Okay Toots. [Vocal by the Rhythm Brothers… Dixieland Band,
Tiger Rag. [Vocal by Les Allan… In The Merry Month Of May. [Various vocalists…
A Story Of London Life {1&2}, Walt Disney’s ‘Silly Symphonies’. [Instrumentals…
Ritual Fire Dance, Maracas, Streamline Strut, B’Wanga, Embassy Stomp, Hors
D’Oeuvres, Rhapsody In Blue{1&2}, Lament For Congo, Dodging A Divorcee.
US releases shown upright. Exceptional American successes underlined.
Even a cursory glance at the above list suggests that something rather
significant was taking place in Ambrose’s recording career. Close examination will
confirm this, although the amount of material involved means that any meaningful
analysis in musical terms can’t be attempted here. However, a few points are worth
noting. For example, Ambrose’s arrangement of DeFalla’s Ritual Fire Dance - a
standard and entirely ‘straight’, interpretation of this well-known piece of light music
that had been included in the Royal Opera House concert in June and broadcast a
couple of times. Decca’s ‘F’-series release has it coupled with B’Wanga, a Sid Phillips
jazz instrumental and probably the more popular side…or perhaps not in Britain! (In
America Decca/US backed B’Wanga with Ambrose’s version of the jazz standard
Copenhagen - an updated arrangement intended to please Embassy Club patrons.)
Most of the none-instrumental fare consists of pop songs of the day, only a few
of which have stood the test of time. Certainly some of the show tunes, such as
Anything Goes and I Get A Kick Out Of You would now be regarded as ‘standards’. On
the whole vocals don’t take up more than a third of the time on each track so there was
some scope for solos by Ambrose’s star players but it’s really the superb ensemble
playing that stands out.
The mandatory sprinkling of novelty numbers released at this time contains
what is believed to be Ambrose’s most popular record of all time – Home James And
Don’t Spare The Horses. A point to be noted but not dwelt on!
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Ambrose’s initial Decca/US releases were an instant and significant success.
The first to make an impact was the Ned Washington/Sam Stept song - London On A
Rainy Night. Other exceptional sellers included the instrumentals - The Continental
and Lament For Congo, and the songs – You And The Night And The Music and My
Kid’s A Crooner. And then came a really big hit, the song I’m On A See-Saw. Despite
subsequent competition from other popular artists like Fats Waller the Ambrose
version found favour with American radio record presenters and jukebox fans. But it
was in the summer of 1935 that Ambrose scored his most interesting big hit in
America with the instrumental – Hors D’Oeuvres.
This number has become so associated with Ambrose over the years that we
must examine it in greater than usual detail. Sid Phillips made the arrangement and
played clarinet on Ambrose’s recorded version. Hors D’Oeuvres first appeared as a
song twenty years earlier in a Broadway musical comedy show and was a hit at the
time. Long forgotten by 1935, its revival was instigated by Ambrose who was
acquainted with its composer – Dave Comer. Later, Sid Phillips made an alternative
arrangement of Hors D’Oeuvres for his own band and adopted it as his signature tune.
The fact that he played the clarinet part on the Ambrose version rather than Danny
Polo (who took the alto solo) was just one of those occasional occurrences in a
versatile sax section.
The significance of Hors D’Oeuvres’ success (particularly in America) comes
from the fact that Ambrose’s version is a jazz-inspired instrumental, and it was unusual
for a mere ‘tune’ to enjoy chart-topping success. Although dismissed in some quarters
as a ‘novelty number’ (the distinguished American commentator John Hammond
deemed the arrangement ‘infantile’) its popularity in America caught the attention of
such notables as Benny Goodman, Artie Shaw, Glenn Miller, and others whose
musical ambitions extended beyond the danceband idiom. And the success that
Ambrose had with other instrumental numbers in America the same year (Lament For
Congo, Dodging A Divorcee, Embassy Stomp) merely reinforced their interest. In a
tiny way Ambrose helped to lay the foundations for the Swing Era that would start to
take-off around this time.
Ambrose’s success in the United States was due primarily to records played on
the radio and the jukebox. The term ‘disc jockey’ had not yet been coined, but
programmes comprising the playing of records interspersed with chat by a
‘personality’ presenter were by now very popular on local radio stations. For years the
major record companies had fought to stop such programmes which began after the
introduction of the electrical pick-up in 1926. For some years thereafter the network
companies did stop such programmes after successful legal action. However, hundreds
of local independent stations ignored the ban and when the trend proved to be
unstoppable the record companies gave way. At least with a regulated system
composers and songwriters would get royalties and anyway there was already some
evidence that air plays actually boosted record sales. Consequently record companies
began to supply radio stations with ‘special’ discs, particularly for titles they wanted to
promote. Decca/US was one such company.
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Electrical multi-selector jukeboxes first appeared in the early 1930s. Originally
they were called ‘Nickel Odeons’ after the coin that had to be inserted in order to have
a title played. Jukeboxes spread like wildfire and by the mid-1930s there were
thousands in drugstores, bars, and diners, each one home to a hundred or more records
waiting to be played. Decca/US became a major supplier of records to the jukebox
industry because its records sold at half the price charged by Columbia and RCAVictor yet still featured top-line artists.
In the mid-1930s recording artists under contract to Decca/US dominated the
jukebox trade. And as with radio record programmes, the number of times a title was
played on a jukebox could be ascertained. Although not as sophisticated as the record
charts introduced by the trade paper Billboard in 1940, a chart based on radio and
jukebox plays that first appeared in 1935 is still a good guide to the relative popularity
of recording artists’ specific titles.
Britain didn’t have jukeboxes in 1935. And the nearest thing to a disc jockey
was a genial bespectacled pipe-smoking gentleman called Christopher Stone.
Somewhat underappreciated by the BBC, Stone eventually transferred his talents to the
independent Luxembourg station.
In the main, British record buyers weren’t particularly interested in danceband
titles that didn’t have the tag: ‘WITH VOCAL REFRAIN’ appended. Indeed, record
companies were at pains to delineate any such thing in their catalogues with a bold
symbol indicating that there was no vocal. This, of course, was a consequence of
dancebands embracing pop music. But it was only by doing so that highly
remunerative record deals could be negotiated. And without the high remuneration the
soaring wages of top-line players couldn’t be paid…and so on. Ambrose’s
instrumentals never caught-on in Britain in the same way that they did in America,
where a similar situation was off-set by the bigger market for less-commercial output.
Just before he left Decca in the early 1950s, Ambrose asked Sir Edward Lewis which
of his records had clocked-up the highest sales. One notable example was the 1935
release Home James And Don’t Spare The Horses a comedy song complete with
simulated clopping horses hooves and whinnies. This being the case we must be
grateful for the more sophisticated fare that also made it to the front line and note with
regret that many fine jazz-based instrumentals featured by the Ambrose band on radio
and elsewhere didn’t get to be recorded.
Ambrose’s provincial tour ended in September and the band returned to
London and resumed weekly broadcasts. The following month the ‘third phase’ tour
commenced, this one confined to the London area. Now with the tag: ‘RADIO’S
MIGHTIEST FEATURE – AMBROSE WITH HIS ORCHESTRA AND EVELYN DALL’,
the tour opened at the London Palladium, then went to the Holborn Empire, then on to
similar venues. Significantly, Evelyn Dall had been persuaded to stay on after her six
week contract expired in September. Apart from the stage shows, which she clearly
relished, Ambrose was able to offer another inducement – the chance to take part in a
feature-length film that was in the pipeline. In late-November shooting began at the
British Lion studios in Beaconsfield. The film - ‘SOFT LIGHTS AND SWEET MUSIC’
- was directed by Herbert Smith. Apart from Ambrose, an augmented orchestra, and
Evelyn Dall, other notables were involved including Max Bacon, Elisabeth Welch,
Donald Stewart and Turner Layton.
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Meanwhile at the Embassy Club a substitute band (personnel unknown) carried
on with Reg Pursglove standing-in for Ambrose who sometimes put in an appearance
around midnight. This didn’t seem to matter too much because although the club
opened at 9pm most people drifted in between 10pm, when the band started playing,
and 11pm, when the one-hour floor show started. Many of the club’s patrons would
have been to dinner parties, or the theatre, or suchlike, beforehand. The Embassy really
was a night club – or as Americans would have it, a ‘supper club’. Supper (which had
to be ordered so as to comply with the licensing regulations) consisted of little more
than elaborate snacks – caviar, lobster, smoked salmon, pâté…or, for those with
delicate late night digestions, scrambled quail’s eggs! Much more important,
particularly to the management, was the consumption of champagne, which apart from
its euphoria inducing qualities was the main source of the club’s profits. Apart from
assisting supper on its way to join dinner, that particular tipple was an essential
complement to the music demanded by the club’s patrons. If not exactly pure jazz, it
was certainly more exciting than the music demanded by the middle-class patrons of
the May Fair Hotel.
Not all the music played at the club was danceable to – at least by ordinary
mortals. The floorshow usually featured a small dance troupe performing exotic
routines that required appropriate accompaniment. Sometimes a standard tune was
adapted, but original music was also used. This was Bert Barnes’ speciality and it was
a number he composed for the Miami-Abbott Dancers that later became a big hit in
America, namely Embassy Stomp. The Prince of Wales liked it so much that he kept
requesting it, and Ambrose decided to record it. This meant that it would have to be
published, so Bert Barnes added some lyrics and it was put-out as a standard pop song.
In this form it didn’t catch-on, but the recorded instrumental did, particularly in
America (where it was coupled with The Piccolino). Decca/UK paired it with Hors
D’Oeuvres and, somewhat optimistically, labelled it a ‘quickstep’!
As well as the Embassy Club a few other up-market London venues provided
music that came into the category of ‘hot’ dance music, or semi-jazz. The Kit-Cat
restaurant was a famous example until its closure in 1935 - the highly-excusive ‘400’
Club (one of Ambrose’s regular haunts) another. At the Florida Club the black pianist
Gerald Moore led a credible multi-racial jazz combo, and at the Café de la Paix (later
Hatchets), Arthur Young led a highly acclaimed band the jazz credentials of which
were never in doubt. The less well-heeled but reasonably respectable were catered for
by establishments like the Bag O’Nails, the Bat House and the Shim-Sham. These last
three were also different in the sense that they allowed jam sessions, and because of
this established and aspiring jazz musicians working in commercial bands would head
to such places after their night’s work was done. But the most significant of the justabout-respectable jazz clubs were the Nest and Jigg’s – the domain of London-based
black jazz musicians.
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By the end of 1935 another fifty titles had been recorded at the Decca studios
in Lower Thames Street. Here are some of the more notable releases: [Vocal by Jack Cooper… What Harlem Is To Me, Lovely Liza Lee, She’s A Latin
From Manhattan, Rags, Squibs, It’s An Old Southern Custom, Cheek To Cheek,
East Of The Sun, Top Hat White Tie And Tails, Isn’t This A Lovely Day, From The
Top Of Your Head To The Tip Of Your Toes, Without A Word Of Warning,
Muchacha, Falling Leaves, Everything’s In Rhythm With My Heart, You Are My
Lucky Star, There’s A Lovely Lake In London, Chasing Shadows, Lovely To Look
At, Red Sails In The Sunset, I Won’t Dance, Don’t You Ever Fall In Love, About A
Quarter To Nine, Why Was I Born, I Can Wiggle My Ears, Stars Over Devon,
Lovely To Look At, One Way Street, Take Me Back To My Boots And Saddle,
Piccadilly (+Rhythm Brothers), The Danza (+Rhythm Brothers), Way Back Home
(+Rhythm Brothers), Goodbye Trouble (+Rhythm Brothers) [Vocal by Elsie Carlisle…
Rehearsing A Lullaby, Gertie The Girl With The Gong, Mama I Long For A
Sweetheart, He Wooed Her And Wooed Her, Fare Thee Well Annabelle (+Donald
Stewart/Rhythm Brothers) [Vocal by Donald Stewart… South American Joe,
Friends, In A Little Gipsy Tearoom (+Rhythm Brothers), The Good Green Acres Of
Home (+Rhythm Brothers/Rhythm Sisters). [Vocal by Max Bacon…Schoolboy
Howlers, The Kings Navee (+Rhythm Brothers), Cohen The Crooner. [Vocal by
Evelyn Dall… Lulu’s Back In Town, Mrs Worthington, The General’s Fast Asleep,
The Lady In Red. [Vocal by Connie Boswell… I’ll Never Say ‘Never Again’ Again.
[Vocal by various…Ambrose’s Jubilee Cavalcade {1&2}. [Instrumentals…
Limehouse Blues, The Piccolino, Broadway Rhythm, Copenhagen.
US releases shown upright
These releases mark Jack Cooper’s debut as a major contributor to Ambrose’s
recorded output and certainly an acceptable successor to Sam Browne. It should be
noted that certain releases on the Decca/US label were delayed – in some cases for
several years! Occasionally a title would be released in America before release by
Decca/UK and in a couple of cases a title rejected for release by Decca/UK appeared in
the Decca/US catalogue. It should also be remembered that certain Decca/UK ‘F’series records with duplicated titles were made available to American record buyers.
The recording by Connie Boswell with the Ambrose band took place during a
tour of Britain by the Boswell Sisters in the summer of 1935. They were under contract
to Decca/US so the recording arrangement had dual value. Connie Boswell was a
multi-instrumentalist and orchestral arranger, as well as being a vocalist much admired
by black and white jazz players and singers. On returning to America the Boswell
Sisters broke-up as a group but Connie continued as a major solo artist until the 1950s.
Finally we must note those 1935 hits that Ambrose didn’t record but which
would probably have been featured by the band: I Can’t Get Started, I Got plenty O’ Nuttin, I’m Gonna Sit Right Down And Write
Myself A Letter, I’m In The Mood For Love, In A Sentimental Mood, I’m Shooting
High, It Ain’t Necessarily So, Just One Of Those Things, My Very Good Friend The
Milkman Said, On Treasure Island, Roll Along Prairie Moon, She Shall Have Music,
Summertime, Truckin’, With All My Heart, When I Grow Too Old To Dream.
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The orchestra that appears in the film ‘SOFT LIGHTS AND SWEET MUSIC’
had the same line-up as shown on page 141 plus the augmentation detailed on page
146. For scenes in which the orchestra does not appear, some additional instruments
were added, including an oboe, viola and cello. Incidental music was composed by
Bert Barnes and the associate musical director for the film was Sid Phillips. Ronnie
Munro, Clive Erard and Ray Sonin contributed original material. Several original
songs by the British song writing team of Jimmy Kennedy and Michael Carr were
written specially for this film. These are the film’s featured musical numbers: When Day Is Done {arr: Munro}…Ambrose Orchestra.
We’re Tops On Saturday Night* {arr. Phillips}… Jack Cooper.
Lost My Rhythm* {arr. Barnes}…Evelyn Dall.
Cohen The Crooner {arr. Sonin/ Munro}…Max Bacon.
Yesterday’s Thrill {arr. Barnes}…Elisabeth Welch.
Riding Up The River Road {comp/arr. Erard}…Rhythm Brothers.
Tiger Rag {arr: Erard}…Rhythm Brothers.
Untitled {comp/arr. Barnes}…Dorchester Girls.
Nola/Hors D’Oeuvres {arr. Barnes}…Four Flash Devils.
I’m All In* {arr. Barnes}…Evelyn Dall.
Madonna* {arr. Phillips}…Jack Cooper.
Piccadilly {arr. Munro}…Ambrose Orchestra.
My S.O.S. To You {comp. Layton}…Turner Layton.
South American Joe {arr. Phillips}…Donald Stewart.
Limehouse Blues {arr. Phillips}…Ambrose Orchestra.
*Original songs by Kennedy and Carr
After completing the penultimate recording session of 1935 at the Decca studio
on the 22nd December, Ambrose and the regular band left for a five-day engagement at
the Grand Casino in Monte Carlo, from which a Christmas Eve gala ball was broadcast
by Radio-Paris. The band, apart from Danny Polo (who was to spend three months
working in Paris), returned to London in time for a recording session on 30th
December, and a society charity ball at the Royal Albert Hall on New Year’s Eve.
1936 opened with a number of problems that required Ambrose’s immediate
attention and which reflected the immense strain that band members had been working
under throughout 1935. Also, friction had developed between Ambrose and certain key
members of the band over the apparent dominance of Evelyn Dall in the scheme of
things. Ambrose now had to learn the hard way that the price for the kind of success he
was enjoying couldn’t be measured in monetary terms alone. Apart from having to find
a replacement for Danny Polo, four other key players would be leaving – Ted Heath,
Lew Davis, Tony Thorpe and Max Goldberg. Ted Heath accepted an offer from
Sydney Lipton who led the band at the Grosvenor House Hotel. Max Goldberg also
went to Lipton’s band, and Lew Davis transferred his talents to Jack Harris’ band, then
resident at the London Casino (not a real casino, but rather a restaurant-theatreballroom complex). Tony Thorpe left to join Henry Hall’s BBC Dance Orchestra.
Clive Erard also left to work with Jack Hylton, and Reg Pursglove took-over at the
Embassy Club with his own band (although Ambrose retained nominal control and
responsibility for the floor show).
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It took some weeks to finalise replacements and Ambrose was obliged to use
temporary players. However, by mid-February the changes were complete. Here’s the
new line-up: AMBROSE & HIS ORCHESTRA
Director:
Brass:
Reeds:
Rhythm:
Strings:
Vocals:
Arrangers:
Teddy Foster (trumpet/+vocal)
Clinton Ffrench (trumpet)
Don McCaffer (trombone)
Eric Breeze (trombone/+trumpet)
Leslie Carew (trombone/+vocal)
Sid Phillips (alto/clarinet/baritone/+ chief arranger)
Andy McDevitt (baritone/clarinet)*
Dick Ball (bass)
Jim Brown (timpani/xylophone)
Evelyn Dall
Jack Cooper (+guitar)
Jack McCarthy (+piano/accordion)
The Wright Brothers*
Ronnie Munro
Arthur Lally
Teddy Foster was an Armstrong-inspired player and vocalist and also
something of a showman. He first came to prominence in Birmingham in the late
1920s when he led a small group that played for dancers at Tony’s Ballroom in
Birmingham. In the early 1930s he joined Billy Cotton’s show band and was still with
Cotton when Ambrose enticed him away. Although a superb lead player and soloist his
principal asset on-tour was the clowning-around that went down so well with variety
audiences…like playing two trumpets at the same time!
Clinton Ffrench came from Howard Jacob’s band at the Café de Paris, but apart
from this nothing is known of his background. He was certainly a good second trumpet
player and when given the opportunity to solo was said to sound like Bunny Berigan.
Don McCaffer was discovered by Spike Hughes playing in a London jazz club
and subsequently contributed to Hughes’ small group recordings. He then played in
Teddy Joyce’s band for a year or so before joining Ambrose.
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Eric Breeze grew-up in Manchester and got his first professional job with a
danceband in Newcastle in the late 1920s. Before joining Ambrose he had been with
Jack Hylton for four-and-a-half years. He was also a notable trumpet player.
Leslie Carew was a competent trombonist and another example of the clownmusician, as much prized for his comic vocal contributions as instrumental ability.
Before joining Ambrose he played in Jack Hylton’s band and had a small acting role in
the film ‘SHE SHALL HAVE MUSIC’.
Andy McDevitt was a Scottish lad who came to London around 1933 to join
Teddy Joyce’s band at Fischer’s restaurant. Normally a tenor player as well as a
clarinettist, he was in fact undertaking Sid Phillips’ more usual subsidiary role.
Jim Brown was an all-round percussionist who worked mainly with symphony
orchestras. He was a good xylophone player, and also had to take-over the drum stool
whenever Max Bacon went to the front to do his comic turns.
Jack McCarthy was a bass-baritone singer and pianist, who also made
occasional contributions on accordion. Where he came from is not known, but like the
other young hopefuls in the band had probably been spotted by Joe Brannelly.
The Wright Brothers were a singing duo that had successfully toured variety
theatres for a couple of years. Ambrose combined their singing talents with Jack
Cooper’s, and called the combination the Rhythm Brothers. This vocal group was used
on broadcasts but did not record or tour.
As a temporary measure Sid Phillips led the reeds during Danny Polo’s shortterm absence. In this respect it should be appreciated that Sid was an excellent player
on the three major saxophones as well as the ordinary and bass clarinet.
Before leaving the personnel changes it’s worth noting that while they were
coming into effect Ambrose hired a couple of temporary players, namely Bruts Gonella
(Nat’s brother) on trumpet, and Woolf Phillips (Sid’s brother) on trombone. Both were
considered by Ambrose to be too inexperienced to be taken-on permanently, but at
least they got a taste of the big-time.
No doubt many musicians of the same ilk would have been glad of a temporary
job in the early weeks of 1936 because many were suddenly deprived of a living along
with cabaret artists and other workers in the entertainment industry. This employment
catastrophe was caused by King George V who died in January. All places of
entertainment were affected in one way or another. Some only closed-down for a week
or so, others for longer. Dance music was taken off the air for several weeks and any
perceived levity banned forthwith. Variety theatres soon got back into their stride so
Ambrose’s winter tour was not affected, but his weekly radio shows were cancelled.
The King’s demise put an end to the 1936 ‘coming-out’ season and associated
jollification that kept the society bandleaders in clover. Although ordinary mortals
were only expected to mourn for three weeks, the aristocracy was obliged to observe
court etiquette and endure nine months of anguish! Consequently, clubs and restaurants
that catered for High Society had a lean time, and some went under. Society
bandleaders were obliged to go ‘down market’ or disband for the duration. And of
course Ambrose’s company relied for a sizable chunk of its income on supplying bands
for High Society private functions.
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In 1935/6 Ambrose Orchestras Ltd (AOL) had a turnover of around £75,000
[about £3,000,000 now]. The main orchestra was costing about £50,000 [£2,000,000] a
year (wages, arrangements, touring costs, etc) and of course there were similar
outgoings for the bands that AOL either hired or formed for residencies and private
functions. In theory, all of Ambrose’s sidemen worked for AOL rather than the
maestro himself…in practice it amounted to the same thing. The point is that contracts
pertaining to record deals, residencies, touring and broadcasting were between
Ambrose personally and the parties concerned. In effect he was hiring his own
orchestra from AOL in order to fulfil personal contracts. Clearly, the cost of the main
orchestra couldn’t be entirely off-set by AOL’s profits from other work, but during
good times these went a long way towards it. Had this not been the case it would have
been impossible for Ambrose to have run such an expensive band and maintain the
lavish life-style that he did…or would it? At this time money was cheap to borrow, and
given his guaranteed earnings from record royalties (which would have continued even
if Ambrose had suddenly died) he had no difficulty in securing loans. It was by doing
this that Ambrose got through the ‘down times’ that periodically hit the entertainment
industry, as in 1936.
Ambrose went to great lengths to keep his private life just that. Few were aware
at this time that he had a wife and two children. This being the case it comes as no
surprise to learn that there was speculation as to whether the relationship between
Ambrose and Evelyn Dall was entirely professional. Soon after her arrival one of the
band’s sidemen opened a book on which one from a number of hopefuls in the band
would be the first to…well, you can guess what! Ambrose became aware of this and
furiously warned them to: ‘Lay-off guys, or else!…she’s spoken for’. From this time
on it was taken for granted among band members that Ambrose and Evelyn were what
would now be called ‘an item’.
By mid-February the variety theatres were back in full operation and the stage
show was once more on the road. Ambrose, off to America on business, handed-over
nominal control to Evelyn Dall (so confirming the fears of the departed). The show, as
usual, was devised and directed by Sid Phillips and called – ‘AMBROSE PRESENTS
HIS RADIO CELEBRITIES’. Placing Evelyn in charge was not popular with many
band members, however Sid Phillips and Joe Brannelly (who actually ran things
between them) were well aware that it was now Evelyn Dall that audiences were
mainly interested in, and that the more they saw of her the better it would be for
business. The tour commenced with a week in Chesterfield, then moved to Hull, then
Portsmouth, then back to London for a week at the Holborn Empire.
After this, band members were given a week’s break from touring but still
obliged to attend a number of rehearsals in preparation for a four-month tour that
would commence on Easter Monday. Ambrose, back from his spell in America,
resumed full control. Danny Polo returned to lead the reeds and Sid Phillips resumed
his subsidiary role on baritone. Andy McDevitt was rewarded for his efforts with a
place in Lou Simmond’s band at the Cabaret Club. The only other change was the
addition of a three-piece fiddle section (Jean Pougnet + two unknowns); an unusual
inclusion in one of Ambrose’s touring bands. In all, the touring company numbered
twenty-four, which must have caused some logistics problems so far as
accommodation and transport were concerned.
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During the weeks that Evelyn Dall and the band were on the winter tour
Ambrose spent some time dealing with immediate problems, including the nearcollapse of the private function sector following the King’s death. All the residency
bands that Ambrose supplied were subject to contractual obligations on both sides, and
were not affected to any great extent. Little could be done to alleviate the loss of the
private function gigs, but this did not require musicians to be laid-off because most of
this ad-hoc work was sub-contracted. To have one’s invitation cards marked – BAND
SUPPLIED BY AMBROSE – didn’t come cheap, so gigging was a lucrative part of
AOL’s activities.
Ambrose had been fortunate to have the services of a brilliant organiser to setup his office in the late 1920s. The administrative system introduced by K. P. Hunt had
stood the test of time and his own departure in 1932. Since then AOL had been
managed by Al Williams, but he left in the spring of 1936. The same month Ambrose
appointed Jack Fallon to the post. He was an experienced band booking agent who had
managed a chain of ballrooms in the Midlands. As his assistant, with special
responsibility for publicity, Ambrose promoted one of the office staff who was a
protégé (and relative) of Joe Brannelly. Because the young man happened to have the
same name as a well-known stage singer (Leslie Holmes), Ambrose decided that
henceforth he would be known as ‘Les Brannelly…the brother of Joe Brannelly’.
Confusion over names aside, the primary task-in-hand was to get the show on the road.
In the 1930s the variety theatre circuits were important aspects of the
entertainment industry. This was in distinct contrast to America where vaudeville was
on the way out. By the mid-1930s many US theatres had been turned into picture
houses. In Britain the tendency was to leave the theatres in place and cater for
increasing film audiences by building brand new cinemas. Although there were some
independent variety theatres still operating (especially at seaside resorts) most
belonged to one or other of the large entertainment organisations like Gaumont-British
or Paramount, both organisations also owners of cinema chains. Although usually
occupying buildings that had served as music halls (the booze-oriented establishments
popular in Victorian times), most variety theatres had been refurbished in the early
1920s and maintained an ambiance acceptable to lower middle class and ‘respectable’
working class audiences.
Like American vaudeville, British variety was a carry-over from the days of the
music hall. Its traditions were ingrained and resistant to change. Only those changes
that were absolutely essential to survival were to be tolerated. What in fact was saving
live variety in the face of stiff competition from cinema was surprisingly
enough…radio! Only in the variety theatres could listeners actually see their favourite
radio entertainers. In America it was different – variety artists moved much more
quickly into films. In Britain top variety artists readily adapted to radio but the British
film industry was unable to respond in the same way that Hollywood had. There were
of course exceptions, but even so British film musicals – the main vehicles for variety
acts on the screen – were singularly poor. By the mid-1930s it was becoming important
to have a radio star as top-of-the-bill turn in order to attract an adequate variety
audience. What brought the people out to the Empire or Hippodrome was the chance to
see Ambrose, Evelyn Dall, Max Bacon, and (maybe) the band…in person.
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Tradition demanded that no matter how good the ‘top-turn’ was it could have
little more than forty minutes on stage. This was about the whole of one-half of a
‘house’ which lasted two hours with an interval in the middle. Again by tradition, the
‘top-turn’ was the last to perform. Most variety theatres had two houses each week-day
evening with two single-house matineé performances a week. Rehearsals (‘band-call’
in variety parlance) were held on Monday mornings and enabled the stage manager to
‘time’ each turn. Only the ‘top-turn’ would be allowed to run late, and only when an
audience demanded an encore.
Most variety performers spent a week at one theatre, the following week at
another, and so on. It all depended on what their agents had arranged with the various
impresarios who organised the tour ‘packages’. Somehow it all came together and
every Sunday hundreds of variety artists would be criss-crossing the country from one
location to another. It is almost impossible to envisage the range of activities that
appeared on variety stages - there are now no modern equivalents since the demise of
variety on television. Some of the minor turns were only on for a few minutes, but
even the most humble variety artist appearing at one of the top variety theatres could
expect a weekly salary of at least £15 [about £600 now] and at the time this was about
five times the average wage.
Ambrose, of course, enjoyed a great deal more than this. Each six-week tour
phase brought-in £7,200 [about £288,000 now] of which 16% represented personal
profit. Each member of Ambrose’s touring show got their regular salary, however all
expenses were taken care of including travel, accommodation, meals on route, and
leisure activities. Travel was usually by train, but where the distance involved did not
warrant this a motor coach would be used. Luggage, which included the larger
instruments and props, was handled by Pickfords, a cartage company that had a
division devoted to orchestral and theatrical transportation. The items that Pickfords
had responsibility for on Ambrose’s tour makes interesting reading: 2-grand pianos, 1drum kit, 2-timpani, 1-xylophone, 1-marimba, 1-double bass, assorted reed and brass
instruments, collapsible band stand, music stands, chairs and stools, assorted
trunks…and ten sets of golf clubs!
Provided the distance wasn’t too great Ambrose usually travelled to the town or
city concerned in his Rolls-Royce, and Evelyn Dall sometimes drove her own highpowered American car. Band members would bet on who would get there first – and it
was usually Evelyn! The boys in the band were never permitted to travel by car during
tours – and appropriate transport was always provided by Ambrose.
Despite the gruelling nature of tours there was some time available for leisure
activities other than endless games of poker or snooker. Ambrose would often arrange
golf matches at local courses or trips to horse races at nearby tracks, transport and
meals thrown-in for good measure. Occasionally something special would have to be
arranged, like on this tour when Clinton Ffrench got married in Litchfield. Some
members of the band were obliged to undertake extra duties related to public relations.
Ambrose, Evelyn Dall, Max Bacon and Jack Cooper were now such ‘headliners’ that
interviews with local reporters, photo sessions, attendance at charity functions and
suchlike simply couldn’t be avoided. Decca’s publicity department also arranged for
record retailers in areas through which the band passed to hold events that required
personal appearances by one or more of the leading lights. However irksome it all
paid-off in the popularity stakes.
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Ambrose’s tour kicked-off on Easter Saturday with a Gala Dance at the huge
Plaza Ballroom in Glasgow. On Easter Monday the band opened for a week at the
Glasgow Empire. The dance broke attendance records for the venue concerned, and the
shows played to packed houses throughout the week. But more than this, audiences
seemed even more appreciative than a year earlier. There was a kind of enthusiasm
being generated that heralded great things ahead. Let’s take a look at what it was that
inspired this reaction: When Day Is Done…Opening theme.
Swing That Music…Evelyn Dall/Teddy Foster (trumpet).
Hors D’Oeuvres…Instrumental.
O K For Sound…Jack Cooper.
I Like Bananas Because They Have No Bones…Max Bacon (vocal).
You Hit The Spot…Rhythm Brothers.
Cuban Pete…Evelyn Dall.
Bojangles Of Harlem…Teddy Foster (vocal/trumpet)/Rhythm Brothers.
I Feel A Song Coming On…Jack McCarthy (vocal)/Jean Pougnet (violin).
Dippermouth Blues…Instrumental.
Swing Along Mama…Evelyn Dall/Rhythm Brothers.
When Day Is Done…Closing theme.
(Woe Is Me…Encore – Evelyn Dall/Jack Cooper).
Some of these titles were recorded so we can now appreciate how they sounded
live on stage, if only to a limited extent. But these shows were as much about visual
imagery as sounds and the total experience that was presented to audiences can only be
imagined. According to accounts at the time, and later memories, the visual impact was
stunning, largely due to the Sid Phillips-devised lighting scheme. Evelyn Dall took full
advantage of her three changes of dress…fabulous creations that made audiences gasp
when she came on stage. The rest of the company, being male, had to make-do with the
cream tuxedos that were by now standard for touring purposes. Ambrose, as usual,
dressed exactly like his sidemen, and, it was noted, wielded the baton with much more
confidence than on his previous visit (in other words he had become more skilled at
pretending to conduct the orchestra).
From Glasgow the show went to Edinburgh, Birmingham, Manchester, Leeds,
Newcastle, and Liverpool. In between certain of these engagements breaks occurred so
that the band could return to London, in one case for a recording session, in another to
appear with Hollywood star Grace Moore at an important charity concert at Grosvenor
House. These breaks also enabled a number of one-nighters to be arranged and the
band played for dancers at Stockport, Stoke-on-Trent, Bolton and Wigan…all of
which, so far as Ambrose was concerned, might just as well have been on the planet
Mars!
The tour was not without its casualties. Jack Cooper was having a hard time
health-wise. On a couple of occasions he was rushed to hospital with severe stomach
pains, and then he temporarily lost his sight due to the intensity of the stage lights. An
unsympathetic Ambrose brought another singer – Gerry Fitzgerald – up from London
to temporarily replace Jack.
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One of Jack Cooper’s occasional migraine attacks might well have been
triggered by the reception that the show got in Birmingham that summer. This was so
enthusiastic that it got a mention in the national press: AMBROSE’S BAND TAKES BRUM BY STORM
Three encores…six curtain calls…and a packed house that stood on its hind legs and
cheered until the pit band played ‘The King’ in an attempt to make people go home.
That was the reception accorded to Ambrose’s band at the Birmingham Hippodrome
last night.
So was Ambrose’s band universally acclaimed? Not exactly; apart from the
haters of all things rhythmic, there were the ‘authentic’ jazz aficionados. These were
essentially a minority within a minority, because the term ‘rhythm’ tended to be used
in preference to ‘jazz’ which in general parlance represented the popular music of the
1920s. By the mid-1930s the term ‘swing’ was coming into use, but did not yet have
quite the same meaning as later. At the time almost any band that played rhythmically
might be described as a ‘swing band’, including Henry Hall’s outfit. But the distinction
between Henry Hall and, say, Benny Goodman circa 1935 can be clearly discerned by
listening to a tune, say Goody Goody, as recorded by both bandleaders. Both are played
rhythmically (and stylishly), but only Goodman’s version really ‘swings’. In the case
of the Ambrose Orchestra it isn’t quite so clear-cut. Even high minded jazz purists had
to admit that Ambrose’s band was stuffed with jazz talent, but were equally quick to
point out that this talent was going to waste in such a band. It would be convenient to
dodge this issue, and pass on to other matters, but we can’t because although the core
of jazz purists was small in the mid-1930s it contained a number of people who would
become highly influential in shaping post-war attitudes to pre-war musical styles.
The stamping-ground for jazz enthusiasts in the 1930s didn’t consist of jazz
clubs in the usual sense, but rather ‘rhythm clubs’ (the word ‘club’ having the same
meaning here as ‘association’), and ‘hot record circles’. The impetus for founding
these clubs and circles had come from the Melody Maker in 1933 and was the
brainchild of two of its most influential contributors Spike Hughes and John
Hammond. The London No. 1 Rhythm Club was the first to be established, and this did
indeed meet at a ‘proper’ jazz club, the Bag O’Nails. Other rhythm clubs soon got
under-way in other parts of the London area, like Forest Hill and Croydon. Within a
year the movement (for such it was) had spread to Birmingham, Bradford, Manchester
and York. Over the next few years the number of rhythm clubs throughout the country
grew rapidly.
What kind of people did these clubs attract into membership? Mostly undertwenty-five’s from lower middle-class/‘respectable’ working class backgrounds – in
other words young ‘suburbanites’ whose parents were by now devoted listeners to the
likes of Henry Hall and Ambrose. This new generation had become attracted to
rhythmic music by listening-in to the dance bands when they were children, but now
wanted something more radical, more specifically ‘youthful’, even if their elders and
more conservative contemporaries disapproved – and they usually did!
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For Spike Hughes and John Hammond the term ‘rhythm’ was far too innocuous
and wide-ranging to describe what they were about. Essentially they were visionaries
as much as purists and what they envisaged was a popular culture springing from the
people rather than being ‘imposed’ by commercial interests. Both, however, were
realists and recognised the need for commercial activity when it came to spreading
popular culture among the masses. The vision may have had left-wing connotations,
but wasn’t meant to go too far in that direction. What particularly irked Hughes and
Hammond was the dilution of jazz, blues, country music, and similar genres in the
name of ‘acceptability’. The worth or otherwise of a musical item was not to be judged
against commercial criteria – whether or not people liked it – but rather criteria
formulated by ‘experts’ like Hughes and Hammond. So far, so good (or bad, according
to one’s point of view)…but there was a part of their argument that surely had (and
still has) validity among those with any sense of decency, and this revolved around the
commercial exploitation of ethnic cultures by those who considered themselves
culturally (and often racially) superior. This was particularly poignant in the case of
African-Americans and their contributions to musical idioms ranging from ragtime to
swing (and beyond). And by constantly drawing attention to such wrongs Hughes,
Hammond, and the young idealists who devoted their spare time to rhythm clubs and
‘hot’ record circles deserve admiration.
Hughes had studied music theory and composition, and then taught himself to
play the bass around the time that this instrument was starting to replace the tuba in
dancebands. In the early 1930s he formed small ad hoc jazz groups for recording
purposes. He also went to New York for a year or so and played and recorded with
multi-ethnic jazz groups. Hughes didn’t entirely turn his back on commercial
considerations - certainly not to the extent that Fred Elizalde and Reginald Foresythe
did. Hughes’ small-group jazz in the early 1930s was really a development of the kind
of music that the more adventurous dancebands – like Ambrose’s 1926 Embassy Club
outfit – had been playing a few years earlier. Apart from performing, leading and
composing, Hughes was a talented writer and journalist and for many years contributed
to the Melody Maker, usually under a pen name. In his own way he did much to
educate readers of the Melody Maker on the finer points of jazz appreciation, and
usually tried to persuade rather than cajole them over to his point of view. Not so with
his comrade-in-arms!
John Hammond, an American, was the kind of person who had little interest in
persuasion techniques, either verbal or written. His opinion on any topic that concerned
him was merely a statement of fact. Anyone with a contrary opinion, however mild,
was likely to be branded ‘an ignoramus’. Words like ‘garbage’, ‘tripe’, ‘crap’, ‘trash’
and ‘junk’ were part of his stock-in-trade. He was born into a wealthy East Coast
family related to the Vanderbilts. A gifted writer and amateur musician, he used his
superior education and talents to promote things that interested him, and jazz and the
blues interested him enormously. Brash and overbearing he certainly was, but a
significant part of his scorn and anger was directed at the racism and segregationist
policies that permeated American society. Unfortunately, he had a tendency to spread
the blame too thinly, and this generated additional prejudice and intolerance.
Scapegoats for what he rightly hated weren’t necessary.
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If converts to ‘real’ jazz had their doubts about what Ambrose was achieving at
the time then they were in a minority, even within the ranks of the rhythm clubs. In
commercial terms the tour was very successful and in late June he decided to extend it
into August, and then give the band a well-earned vacation. Recording sessions
resumed in June after a break of two months, and then there was another break during
July when the band returned to the provinces. It was in June that Ambrose returned to
the airwaves – not via the BBC but rather its rival, Radio Luxembourg. Some weeks
earlier Ambrose had signed a contract with this Continental commercial station for a
series of programmes sponsored by Lifebuoy Toilet Soap. These were to be prerecorded in London and subsequently transmitted from Luxembourg each Sunday
evening for twenty-four weeks.
The first programme went out in June under the title – ‘MORNING, NOON
AND NIGHT’. All programmes were recorded at the Independent Broadcasting
Company’s studios in Baker Street, six separate one-hour sessions being required. The
recording method adopted by Radio Luxembourg at this time was similar to that used
for recording sound tracks on film. Each programme lasted for fifteen minutes, so only
four items could be included. Here’s a typical play-list: Cavernism…Instrumental.
I Wished On The Moon…Jack Cooper.
Cohen The Crooner…Max Bacon.
At The Codfish Ball…Evelyn Dall.
Unlike the BBC broadcasts no announcements were made between numbers,
one item running into the next with a brief linking passage between them, much like in
a medley of tunes. The sponsor’s announcements were made at the beginning and end,
and were part of the pre-recording. This first series lasted until mid-November.
Readers familiar with big band history may have noted the inclusion in
Ambrose’s broadcast of an Earl Hines composition – Cavernism, also associated with
the Casa Loma Orchestra. Like Duke Ellington, the Casa Lomans were the source of
many Ambrosian cover versions around this time. No great surprise perhaps, but the
special relationship between Ambrose and Jimmy and Tommy Dorsey is particularly
noteworthy. This went back to 1934 when the Dorsey Brothers Orchestra came into
existence as a full-time outfit (previous bands with this name were recording groups).
Ambrose had been a close friend of Jimmy Dorsey since the mid-1920s, and had met
Tommy at least once. Anyway, an agreement to swap arrangements came into
operation, the go-between being Joe Brannelly. Both bands were broadcasting at the
time and also recording for Decca, so a bit of ‘plugging’ of each other’s output didn’t
go amiss, particularly where there was no clash of interests relating to recorded titles.
The Dorsey Brothers Orchestra lasted only eighteen months. A successful
engagement at the Glen Island Casino in 1935 was interrupted by a dispute between
the two brothers over musical policy and Tommy departed to form his own band. He
must have valued the Ambrose arrangements quite highly though, because he was at
pains to obtain replacements for at least some of those left behind with what had now
become Jimmy’s band. Tommy and Jimmy Dorsey continued to swap arrangements
with Ambrose until the late 1930s.
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It is interesting to note some of the titles that were on one of the swap-lists in
1936: JIMMY DORSEY ARRANGEMENTS USED BY AMBROSE
Parade Of The Milk Bottle Caps.
Hurdy-Gurdy Man.
Stomping At The Savoy.
Skeleton In The Closet.
Slaughter On Tenth Avenue.
When Ruben Swings The Cuban.
Waltz In Swing Time.
St Louis Blues.
AMBROSE ARRANGEMENTS USED BY JIMMY DORSEY
Hors D’Oeuvres.
Hide And Seek.
Dodging A Divorcee.
Limehouse Blues.
Streamline Strut.
B’Wanga.
Dippermouth Blues.
Tarantula.
Oddly enough one of Jimmy Dorsey’s arrangers at this time was Fud
Livingston, who also played in the band’s sax section. This was the very same man
who had supplied Ambrose’s jazz-oriented 1926 Embassy Club band with an
arrangement of Dippermouth Blues. Ambrose’s current version was a reinterpretation
by Sid Phillips in a somewhat different style to the original. Another arranger with
Jimmy Dorsey was Toots Camarata, who also played trumpet in the band. Here’s what
he had to say about these swaps: - ‘When I was with Jimmy Dorsey we used to play
these arrangements that came over from England…they came from an English swing
band led by Bert Ambrose and were mostly by a talented guy called Sid Phillips…and
they were tough to play, quite challenging in fact. I met Sid in New York sometime in
the late ‘thirties and we became friends…and Ambrose just after the war when I was in
London’.
Jimmy Dorsey’s arrangements might well have gone down well at the Embassy
Club in normal circumstances…but circumstances weren’t normal. Throughout much
of 1936 the Royal Court was in mourning and although most of the patrons of the
Embassy were ‘hangers-on’ rather than genuine members of the royal circle, the
absence of Edward was bound to put a damper on things. And that absence was now
permanent because Edward was now the King. And British kings didn’t go to night
clubs whether in or out of mourning. The London Season that extended from the
beginning of May until the end of July did take place, but in a somewhat emasculated
way. Reg Pursglove continued to provide music at the Embassy, but the cabaret had
now been discontinued and the patrons could only wait on better times.
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Ambrose continued touring with the enlarged orchestra until mid-August. The
final two weeks were confined to the London area due to recording commitments.
After this, everyone was given two weeks paid vacation and Ambrose headed for
Cannes and a well-earned rest. On his return to London there would be much to do. For
starters, several sidemen would have to be replaced. Teddy Foster was forming his own
band (with Ambrose’s support) and Jack McCarthy was going with him as
pianist/vocalist. Clinton Ffrench was also leaving, so too was Don McCaffer and Jim
Brown. Joe Brannelly was vacating the guitar chair to concentrate on managing the
band full-time. All sections of the band except the reeds would be affected.
Apart from personnel changes Ambrose had to make decisions regarding his
future activities. The most significant would be his acceptance of an offer to return to
the May Fair Hotel in the autumn. This had been made in June when Harry Roy
announced that he would be ending the residency he had taken-over from Ambrose in
1933. Given the bad feeling that had accompanied Ambrose’s departure it came as
something of a surprise when Ambrose eventually accepted. One consequence of this
would be an end to touring, at least for the main orchestra. Another was the possibility
of a return to broadcasting, although Ambrose’s insistence on Saturday slots remained
in place. At least the BBC were now paying more for outside broadcasts, and a better
deal for studio broadcasts was in the offing.
Around this time Ambrose accepted a lucrative offer to record a series of halfhour programmes for American radio, clearly a move to capitalise on his Decca/US
hits. These shows were recorded in London on 16-inch transcription discs and then
forwarded to New York for transmission. Regrettably, no details of these American
broadcasts have so far been found. By this time US local radio stations were regularly
featuring Ambrose titles and two numbers in particular (Organ Grinder’s Swing and
Cuban Pete) were particularly popular on the jukebox circuit.
Ambrose reconstructed the band in early September as follows: AMBROSE & HIS ORCHESTRA
Director:
Brass:
Reeds:
Rhythm:
Alfie Noakes (trumpet)
Tommy McQuater (trumpet)
Eric Breeze (trombone/+trumpet)
Leslie Carew (trombone/+vocals)*
Albert Harris (guitar)
Jack Cooper (guitar/+vocals)*
Dick Ball (bass)
Continued……..
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Strings:
Vocals:
Arrangers:
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Ernie Lewis (violin/+deputy)…et al*
Evelyn Dall
Sam Browne
The Rhythm Brothers*
Ronnie Munro
Arthur Lally
Clive Erard
Eddie Lisbona (+accordion)*
May Fair Hotel personnel shown in bold type.
Canadian trumpeter Alfie Noakes first came to prominence in the Lew Stone
band, then joined Jack Harris. He was a good soloist, but in the Ambrose band was
valued more for his lead role in the brass section. Tommy McQuater got his first big
chance with Jack Payne, and then he joined the more adventurous Lew Stone band,
combining lead and soloing duties. Lew Davis returned to the fold after an absence of
only a few months. For some reason he had not been happy playing in the Jack Harris
band. Albert Harris was a brilliant Eddie Lang-inspired guitar player, certainly one of
the finest jazz soloists in Britain at the time, and an innovative rhythm player. Jack
Simpson returned to take charge of the additional percussion and deputise for Max
Bacon as required. The orchestra at the May Fair only included strings during
broadcasts, but at other times Ambrose still played the occasional chorus either along
with or in place of the vocalist. When Ambrose wasn’t around Ernie Lewis deputised.
Sam Browne returned to the fold a few months after his touring partnership
with Elsie Carlisle ended. Although highly successful in tandem, they didn’t get on and
agreed to go their separate ways. Ambrose decided to bury the hatchet when Sam
asked for his old job back. Jack Cooper was unceremoniously shunted over to the
Embassy Club (the band there was still under Ambrose’s control). All this came as no
surprise - Jack’s constant minor ailments had always irritated Ambrose. For a while
Jack continued to function as second guitarist in the augmented orchestra, and sing
with the Rhythm Brothers during broadcasts. However, towards the end of the year he
accepted an offer to join Jack Harris’ vocal team.
After Jack Cooper left, the Rhythm Brothers were returned to the charge of
Clive Erard (just back from a spell with Jack Hylton in America). Two newcomers
were recruited for the group - Jack and Frank Trafford. Clive Erard, as before,
contributed orchestrations and original compositions and fellow vocalist Frank
Trafford was also a songwriter who occasionally supplied material.
Newcomer, Eddie Lisbona was a composer, songwriter and arranger who
sometimes played piano and accordion in the augmented orchestra. Ray Sonin
continued to provide lyrics for comic songs usually aided and abetted by Ronnie
Munro. Ray also wrote monologues and comedy scripts for Max Bacon.
Ambrose returned to the BBC airwaves in the first week of October, and
continued for the rest of the year at weekly intervals. These were all late-night
broadcasts from the May Fair Hotel starting and finishing at various times.
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The Radio Luxembourg programmes continued on Sundays, and Ambrose also
recorded a series of fifteen-minute programmes for a rival commercial station – Radio
Lyon. These were also broadcast on Sunday evenings. Two rather special events
occurred in December when the Ambrose Orchestra and Evelyn Dall took part in a
televised show called ‘STARLIGHT’ at the BBC television studios at Alexander
Palace. Although a regular television service had commenced earlier in the year for the
London area it was still experimental – the BBC had not yet decided on which of two
systems would be adopted. Consequently one studio provided programmes for the
Baird system and another for the Marconi-EMI system. The same programme was
transmitted from each studio on different days.
The film ‘SOFT LIGHTS AND SWEET MUSIC’ was released in the summer
and after a spell in the West End went on general release. Even by the standards of the
time it was a minor confection, the minimal storyline little more than an excuse to link
a succession of variety acts, including various dance routines, acrobatics, monologues
(Billy Bennett) and comic sketches (Western Brothers). However it is interesting to
actually see as well as hear Evelyn Dall, Jack Cooper, the Rhythm Brothers, Max
Bacon and Donald Stewart in action. Elisabeth Welch and Turner Layton, who were
both occasional guests on Ambrose’s radio shows, also give polished performances,
and the Dorchester Girls dance troupe (in the film masquerading as the Hollywood
Beauties) come over exceptionally well. The augmented orchestra can be seen backing
several of the songs, but gets only one set-piece instrumental number to perform at the
end of the film – a concert arrangement of Limehouse Blues. Most members of the
band were experienced session musicians and had worked in film orchestras, so the
essential dubbing process would not have presented too many problems. On the whole,
the editing/dubbing, photography and sound recording were competently handled - it’s
just a pity that given the acting skills available more use wasn’t made of them.
In the autumn of 1936 shooting started at British Lion’s Beaconsfield Studios
on another film – ‘CALLING ALL STARS’. Once again Herbert Smith directed and the
format remained unchanged. The main items of interest are: Organ Grinder’s Swing {arr: Phillips}…Evelyn Dall.
Changing Of The Guard {arr: Munro}…Flotsam & Jetsam.
East Of The Sun {arr: Layton}…Turner Layton.
Rhythm’s OK In Harlem *{arr. Barnes}…Buck & Bubbles.
Nightfall*{arr: Barnes}…Elisabeth Welch.
Za-Zu-Za-Zu {arr: Barnes}…Nicholas Brothers.
Star Dust/St Louis Blues {arr: Adler}…Larry Adler (harmonica).
When Gimble Hits The Cymbal {arr: Phillips}…Max Bacon.
I Don’t Wanna Get Hot *{arr. Barnes}…Evelyn Dall.
Serenade In The Night {arr: Munro}…Sam Browne/Ambrose (violin).
Medley Of Ambrose Hits {arr: Munro}…Orchestra/various vocalists.
*Original songs by Kennedy and Carr.
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Only eight records were released between January and August, but between
September and the end of the year twenty-five appeared in the catalogue. Once again it
is only possible to show a representative sample of recorded titles for 1936: [Vocal by Jack Cooper… I’m In A Dancing Mood, We’re Tops On Saturday Night,
There Isn’t Any Limit To My Love, This’ll Make You Whistle, Swing, Let
Yourself Go, Life Begins When You’re In Love, The Lady From Mayfair, Head Over
Heels, There’s A New World, My Red Letter Day, Free, OK For Sound, Looking
Around Corners For You, There’s A Small Hotel, Crazy With Love, I Heard A
Song In A Taxi, On Your Toes, There’s That Look In Your Eyes Again, It’s A Sin
To Tell A Lie, South Sea Island Magic, The Sunset Trail, Café Continental, Empty
Saddles, I’m An Old Cow Hand, No Regrets, Spanish Jake, Love From A Stranger,
Jingle Of The Jungle. [Vocal by Sam Browne… The Way You Look Tonight, A Fine
Romance, Bye-Bye Baby, Miracles Sometimes Happen, Sing Baby Sing, You’ve
Got To Blow Your Own Trumpet, Easy to Love, I’ve Got You Under My Skin,
Pennies From Heaven, Music In May, Did Your Mother Come From Ireland, To
You Sweetheart Ahola, One Two Button Your Shoe, Nobody’s Darling. Serenade
In The Night (+Ambrose-violin). [Vocal by Evelyn Dall… Organ Grinder’s Swing,
Wotch’a Gotch’a Trombone For, Cuban Pete, Lost My Rhythm, I’m All In, Did
You Mean It, Woe Is Me (+Jack Cooper). [Vocal by Max Bacon… Knock Knock
Who’s There, Nuff-Yuff And Sun-Yuff. [Instrumentals… Creole Lady, Two Hearts
In Cuba, Wood And Ivory, Hick Stomp, Escapada, Swinganola, Champagne
Cocktail, Tarantula, Night Ride, Hide And Seek.
Exceptional American successes underlined.
By now Ambrose had become part of the popular music mainstream in America, or at
least a prominent member of its second division. This was a time when the Swing Era
was in its infancy, although coming on strong, and it’s interesting to note that
Ambrose’s instrumental output received much greater critical acclaim in America than
in Britain. Even so, Ambrose’s American releases were just as varied as at home and
clearly intended to appeal to the general, rather than minority, record buyer.
Notable hits of 1936 not recorded by Ambrose included: - Did I Remember, I Wished
On The Moon, Is It True What They Say About Dixie, It’s D’lovely, I’ve Got A Feeling
You’re Fooling, Let’s Face The Music And Dance, Lights Out, Lost, The Night Is
Young, No Greater Love, Poinciana, These Foolish Things, The Touch Of Your Lips,
When Did You Leave Heaven, Goodnight Irene, Hills Of Old Wyoming, I’m Putting All
My Eggs In One Basket, Rainbow On The River, Ridin’ High.
Towards the end of 1936 Ambrose revealed that he would be leaving the May
Fair in due course. This was because, in partnership with another bandleader, he would
be taking-over ownership of Ciro’s restaurant, a high-class West End night-spot. This
announcement was not entirely unexpected because it had been known for some
months that he was on the look-out for a suitable venue to purchase. However,
Ambrose’s choice of partner did cause eyebrows to be raised, and not without good
reason – his name was Jack Harris.
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Jack Harris grew-up in New York’s tough Bowery district and developed two
abiding passions – music and boxing. On leaving school he used the money won in
prize-fights to pay for violin lessons (!) and a music college course. After obtaining his
AFM ‘ticket’ he free-lanced for a musicians’ agency in New York. Another violinist
working for the same agency was one Bertram Ambrose. Not long after Ambrose
formed his first small band for a residency at the Club deVingt, Harris also got a small
group together for an engagement at the Azure Room. When Ambrose transferred his
band to the Palais Royal, Harris took-over at the Club de Vingt. Later, he succeeded
Ambrose at the Clover Gardens and then, when Ambrose left the Embassy Club in
1927 to open the May Fair, Harris was brought-over from America to lead the
Embassy band. In 1928 he formed a society band-booking agency along with
bandleader Abe Aaronson but continued to front the Embassy band. The agency was
very successful and by the early 1930s was the principal rival to Ambrose’s company
so far as West End society work was concerned (although along with similar outfits a
secret agreement to avoid price undercutting had been entered into). As with Ambrose,
there came a time when Jack Harris wanted to run his own nightspot and by another
coincidence both men set their sights on the same venue that just happened to come on
the market in late 1936.
Ciro’s Restaurant had opened in London in 1910 to complement its famous
namesake in Paris. Originally both establishments were owned by the same business
interests, but in the ensuing years the London restaurant had changed hands. Now in
need of refurbishment it was empty and awaiting a new owner. Ambrose put out
feelers, and so too did Jack Harris…neither being aware of the other’s manoeuvrings.
There then ensued a kind of ‘bidding-war’ with the current owner pitting one bidder
against the other and so driving-up the price. Eventually, Ambrose and Harris became
aware of the situation and agreed to make a joint bid. And so as 1936 drew to a close a
deal was struck, contracts signed and plans drawn-up for a quick refurbishment of the
restaurant so that it could open as soon as possible in the New Year.
Ambrose left the May Fair early in January 1937. At the end of the month
another provincial tour was due to start, and the new Ciro’s was supposed to open in
mid-February. The agreement between Ambrose and Harris required one or the other
to supply the band for Ciro’s for the first six months, and this had been decided,
characteristically, by the toss of a coin. Ambrose got the job and so was obliged to
either cancel the tour or split the main orchestra into two separate outfits. He chose to
do the latter but meanwhile took the former May Fair band on a round-London tour of
Mecca ballrooms and suburban cinemas (some of which had an early-evening stage
show preceding the film show). By the end of January it became clear that the opening
of Ciro’s would have to be delayed until March so Ambrose commenced the variety
theatre tour with the main orchestra in early February. In all, the band only had time to
appear in Birmingham and Coventry before being brought back to London for Ciro’s
‘grand opening’. However, Ambrose had no intention of pulling-out of variety theatre
work – it was far too lucrative, and he urgently needed all the money he could get his
hands on.
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By mid-January £20,000 [about £800,000 now] had been spent on the
refurbishment of Ciro’s and it was still only half finished. To claim that ‘no expense
was being spared’ would be an understatement! A top architect was brought in to
supervise internal changes, and a celebrated interior designer hired to oversee the
redecoration. The result was décor ‘out of this world’. The famous mural artist Hans
Aufseeser was commissioned to produce a huge bass-relief wall decoration on one side
of the restaurant that incorporated winking coloured lights. Everything, from
furnishings to crockery and cutlery, was the very best that could be acquired. To
manage Ciro’s, Ambrose and Harris obtained the services of Peter Rattazzi, former
manager of the Embassy Club, and the newly-equipped kitchens were put in the charge
of a celebrated Parisian chef.
During this initial phase Ambrose was in his seventh-heaven – after all
spending money at the highest rate of knots possible came naturally! The trouble was
that the money involved was only his by proxy…and the same went for Jack Harris.
Both had raised loans against their own future earnings, not those of the new venture.
Those doing the lending were well aware that even if Ciro’s failed the partners would
still have plenty coming in from other sources to make repayment of the loans feasible.
But why should Ciro’s fail? Because, at the end of the day it could only succeed by
attracting the Big Spenders away from other high class venues like the Embassy Club
and the Café de Paris. At the top end the market was diminishing, not expanding. No
wonder, then, that there were those at the time who expressed doubts about the
feasibility of the entire project from a purely economic point of view. And the wellpublicised volatility of each of the partners didn’t strengthen grounds for optimism.
Ciro’s opened for business during the first week of March. Opening night was a
complete fiasco, at least on the outside. It was estimated that around two thousand
people thronged the streets trying to get in, although only six hundred could be
accommodated at any one time. Anyway, most of the tables had been booked in
advance. Things started to get out of hand when a fracas broke-out between
communists and fascists in a nearby street and this got entangled with the crowds
trying to get into Ciro’s. Bejewelled women in fur coats were pushed to the ground,
men in evening dress took revenge, and general chaos reigned until police
reinforcements arrived to clear the street.
The band that Ambrose used at Ciro’s had the same line-up as the former May
Fair band. Apart from music for dancing, the band also provided backing for a floor
show that featured guest performers as well as a resident dance troupe. Cabaret artists
who appeared at Ciro’s at the time included – June Knight, Elisabeth Welch, Rudy
Vallee and Douglas Byng. Evelyn Dall and Sam Browne provided vocals when the
band was playing for dancing, but this was supposed to be only for a few weeks
because Ambrose intended to resurrect the touring stage show. Apart from Evelyn Dall
and Sam Browne, Leslie Carew was also allocated touring duties and so not included
in the regular Ciro’s band. For routine vocals at Ciro’s Ambrose would require the
services of two additional vocalists, and to accompany the touring stage show an
additional band would be required. It should also be noted that the weekly
Luxembourg programmes had been extended to thirty minutes at the beginning of the
year.
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Rather than juggle around with his existing personnel, Ambrose decided to
form an additional small band for touring purposes. Before he got round to doing this,
an opportunity arose to take-over an established band that went under the name of
‘George Scott-Wood & His Six Swingers’. This jazz-oriented band was popular and
successful, but its leader had run into financial problems and was facing bankruptcy.
Ambrose paid-off Scott-Wood’s debts and took nominal control of the band, leaving
the accomplished leader in place. Under the heading – ‘AMBROSE PRESENTS…’ the Six Swingers went out on tour at the beginning of March, without Sam Browne and
Evelyn Dall but with the Rhythm Brothers. They were an instant success and when
Ambrose later decided to keep Sam and Evelyn in London throughout the summer, the
Six Swingers continued touring the provinces.
As an additional male vocalist Ambrose attempted to entice Al Bowlly away
from the solo career on which he had embarked after returning to Britain from a spell
in America. The American stint had not been particularly successful and back home he
was having a hard time touring variety theatres. This is difficult to appreciate now
given Al Bowlly’s cult status, and he did eventually bounce-back into the limelight. In
the meantime he turned-down Ambrose’s offer!
A vocalist to complement Evelyn Dall posed an even bigger problem, because
Evelyn’s film commitments were likely to preclude her from touring at certain times.
A suitable counterpart, then, had to be an all-round performer rather than merely a
band vocalist. It was Joe Brannelly who came-up with a name – Vera Lynn. Now some
accounts would have us believe that Ambrose ‘discovered’ Vera Lynn, but this was not
the case. By the time Vera became associated with Ambrose she was already an
established performer with cabaret, stage, radio, film and recording experience. (In fact
she had her own solo recording contract). Vera Lynn didn’t need to be ‘discovered’ but
she did need the opportunity to develop and extend her talents with the aid of top
musicians, arrangers, etc. – and Ambrose’s outfit could, and did, supply that
opportunity.
Vera Lynn was born into a ‘respectable’ working class family in the London
suburb of East Ham. Her father worked in the London docks and she had an aunt who
was on the variety stage. Her early experiences included family sing-songs round the
parlour piano and occasional visits to East Ham Palace of Varieties. At the age of
seven she started to perform in local working men’s clubs where she was billed as a
‘descriptive child vocalist’. Later she took dancing and acting lessons and joined a
local juvenile theatrical troupe called the Kracker Kabaret Kids. Her first break away
from the East London club circuit came at the age of thirteen when she successfully
auditioned for a part in a pantomime at the Exchange Theatre in Leighton Buzzard.
After this it was back to club singing but now nearer the top-of-the-bill. It was while
performing at a club in Poplar that Vera came to the attention of Howard Baker and he
invited her to join his band. Baker also ran a booking agency in association with top
bandleader Billy Cotton, and it was with Cotton’s band that she got her first experience
in big-time variety at the Palace Theatre, Manchester. Then, Vera successfully
auditioned for Joe Loss and made her broadcasting debut with his band and also
appeared in a film short. After this she joined the Charlie Kunz band at the Casani Club
and when this engagement came to an end she secured a recording contract with
Crown Records and freelanced in West End cabaret.
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Vera Lynn got her first chance to sing with the Ambrose band in mid-February
1937 when Joe Brannelly summoned her to a Radio Luxembourg recording session.
The two songs that she contributed – Someone To Care For Me and I Adore You - were
transmitted in two consecutive programmes in the spring. Ambrose must have liked
what he heard because Vera was invited to attend the next recording session, when two
more songs were allocated – A Little House Built With Love and Love Me A Little
Today. For the next six months Vera occasionally contributed to Ambrose’s radio
programmes although except for a special Radio Normandy show in the summer her
name doesn’t seem to have been included in the programme credits until the autumn.
Vera also took part in two Decca recording sessions in April. At the first on
rd
23 April she joined the Manhattan Trio in an up-tempo version of The Love Bug Will
Bite You. This was the kind of number that Evelyn Dall (who was also at the session)
usually handled, but perhaps Ambrose wanted to see how Vera coped with such a
song. Rather well, in fact and it became a big hit in the summer. The following week
she was back at the Decca studios to record Lord And Lady Whoozies, in a duet version
with Sam Browne.
For some months Ambrose dithered over whether to bring Vera in on a fulltime basis. Joe Brannelly was urging him to do so because he was convinced that she
had great potential and was likely to be snapped-up by some other band sooner rather
than later. Moreover, the amount of work in the pipeline meant that additional vocal
talent would have plenty to do. Elisabeth Welch (Ambrose’s usual first choice as an
optional extra) was often ‘otherwise engaged’, so eventually Ambrose agreed that Vera
should be added to the pay-roll from September. In the interim she continued to freelance on the cabaret circuit.
Ambrose returned to the BBC in March, alternating between early-evening and
late-night broadcasts on Saturdays. The one-hour evening stints were studio-based and
for these Ambrose adopted his usual radio show format. The late-night sessions were
outside broadcasts from Ciro’s. Here’s A play-list for the evening show on the
National Programme on Saturday 22nd May 1937: Hawaiian War Chant …Manhattan Three
Maybe It’s The Spring…Sam Browne
The Blue Danube…Instrumental
Rural Rhythm…Manhattan Trio.
Nostalgias…Instrumental
Swing High Swing Low…Evelyn Dall
Fire Dance…Instrumental
Don’t Play With Fire…Elisabeth Welch (?)
Dixieland One-step…Instrumental
I May Be Poor But I’m Honest…Evelyn Dall…et al
That Old Feeling…Elisabeth Welch (?)
Night Ride…Instrumental.
The Love Bug Will Bite You…Evelyn Dall (?)/Manhattan Trio/Max Bacon
Coronation Waltz…Sam Browne
Goona Goo…Max Bacon (?)
Hors D’Oeuvres…Instrumental
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The inclusion of a number called The Coronation Waltz in Ambrose’s
broadcast was no mere coincidence – in May 1937 the Coronation of King George VI
took place. The Abdication Crisis had dominated the last few weeks of 1936 and
concluded when King Edward VIII became the Duke of Windsor and went into exile.
The new King – George VI - had rarely patronised night clubs and preferred Viennese
waltzes to jazz. The racier members of High Society were suddenly left in the lurch. Of
course there was always the South of France, where the ex-king was expected to ‘hold
court’ more often than before, but it was not possible to totally abandon the London
Season. For Ambrose the departure of Edward might have had serious consequences.
Society gigs had become big business again after the months of official mourning
ended in the autumn of 1936. Of course, during his short tenure as King, Edward
couldn’t resume his former lifestyle but there was still plenty of scope for lively
goings-on away from the public’s adoring gaze. Ambrose had plenty to gain as the
King’s favourite bandleader, but that was now impossible…or was it? It seems not
because some weeks before the Coronation, Ambrose was engaged to provide the
music for a Royal Ball to be held at Buckingham Palace on Coronation night. This was
an honour indeed, because all previous events of this nature had been placed in the
charge of military bands. The King may have preferred waltzes but the Queen liked
foxtrots, and no bandleader in the land could beat Ambrose doing foxtrots!
Ambrose also landed another plum when he was engaged to preside over a
Grand Costume Ball at the Albert Hall the night after the Royal Ball. This glittering
charity event was expected to attract 10,000 people, some participating in the dressingup/dancing, others as spectators in the galleries and boxes. Despite the tickets for this
ball being priced at £5 [about £200 now], they had all been sold well before the event,
and eventually were changing hands at five times the original price. For the Royal Ball,
Ambrose used the normal orchestra (without vocalists) but for the following night’s
extravaganza he formed a special fifty-piece orchestra.
The Royal Ball was an invitation-only event and no publicity surrounded
Ambrose’s role. It was his policy never to discuss his professional dealings with
Royalty, and it was also impressed on band members that they too should ‘keep mum’.
And this being the 1930s, and they being perfect gentlemen, they did.
The Grand Costume Ball was one of the first events of its kind to be recorded
by the BBC, at least in part. An excerpt was also broadcast live on the National
Programme. Whether the BBC recording survives is not known, but it may have been
intended for use on the short-wave Empire Service.
Ambrose’s 1937 ‘hat trick’ came around the same time as the Coronation when
it was announced that his band had come first in a Europe-wide poll to determine THE
WORLD’S GREATEST DANCEBAND. The runners-up were Duke Ellington and
Benny Goodman! Of it could be argued that Duke and Benny might not have wanted
their bands to be classed as dance bands…even so! Ambrose’s reward was to open a
‘super-special’ ballroom that was to be part of the forthcoming Paris International
Exhibition. There would then follow a three-week residency with nightly broadcasts,
and two major concerts in Paris. For all this Ambrose would receive £3,000 [about
£120,000 now].
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Before continuing with Ambrose’s exploits, we will take a look at a
representative sample of the titles added to Decca’s catalogue in the first half of 1937: [Vocal by Sam Browne… The Eyes Of The World Are On You, With Plenty Of
Money And You, My Lost Love, Watching The Stars, Harbour Lights, Maybe It’s
The Spring, The Coronation Waltz, Moon Or No Moon, I Need You, I’m Still In
Love, The Night Is Young, My Little Buckaroo, All Alone In Vienna, I Saw A Ship
Come Sailing By, Too Marvellous For Words, Won’t You Buy My Pretty Flowers,
Blue Hawaii(+ Roy Smeck-guitar), Sweet Leilani (+ Roy Smeck-guitar). [Vocal by
Evelyn Dall…On The Isle Of Kitchy-Mi-Boko, Rhythm’s OK In Harlem, Gangway,
Swing Is In The Air, Swing High Swing Low, Poor Robinson Crusoe, Fifty Million
Robins Can’t Be Wrong, Let’s Call The Whole Thing Off (+Sam Browne). [Vocal by
Vera Lynn… The Love Bug Will Bite You (+Manhattan Trio/Max Bacon), Lord And
Lady Whozies (+Sam Browne). [Vocal by Manhattan Trio… When You Gotta Sing
You Gotta Sing. [Vocal by Leslie Carew… Madam The Cow Is In The Meadow, I
May Be Poor But I’m Honest (+ Evelyn Dall/Manhattan Trio). [Instrumentals…
Midnight In Mayfair, Swing Patrol.
Comparing the titles listed in the Decca catalogue in the summer of 1937 with
radio play-lists, variety programmes, etc. reveals that Ambrose recorded around 25%
of the arrangements written for the band during the previous twelve months. According
to Joe Jeanette, who supervised the orchestra’s library, the number of arrangements on
file exceeded three thousand at this time. Clearly then, there was an enormous amount
of music available. Even so, because Ambrose insisted on up-to-date material new
arrangements were continually being added. Here are some of the more interesting
items that were not recorded but certainly broadcast by the band in 1936/7: Instrumentals – classical/light music adaptations.
Die Fledermaus, Espangnol, Tales From The Vienna Woods, The Minute Waltz,
Viennese Musical Clock, March And Reprise, Phantom Melody, Emperor Waltz.
Instrumentals – swing/jazz.
Dardanella, Rose Room, Put It There, Mush Mouth, Jogo Rhythm, Royal Garden
Blues, Plantation Moods, King Porter Stomp, Nightmare, Symphonic Raps, Gin Mill
Shuffle, Earthquake, Bermuda Buggy Ride, Brudda Sylvest, Milenburg Joys, Doctor
Jazz, White Jazz, Midnight In A Madhouse, The Snake Charmer.
Cowboy songs.
The Cowboy’s Wedding Day, There’s A Bridle’s Hanging On The Wall, Little Cowboy,
Home On The Range, On The Trail, There’s A Ranch In The Sky.
Novelty/comedy numbers.
A Nice Cup Of Tea, McDougal McNab & McKay, Pancho’s Widow, Taking A Stroll
Around The Park, The Man Who Missed The Last Bus Home, I’m Afraid Of Bees, The
Kid In The Three-cornered Pants, Noah’s Ark, Old King Cole, Old McDonald’s Farm,
The Great Big Saw Came Nearer And Nearer.
Continued……
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Latin American/Hawaiian numbers.
Last of The Rumbas, Rio Magdalena, Hawaiian Hospitality, The Girl From Cuba,
Balboa, Lamento Gitano, Ta-Hu-Wa-Hu, Rumba Tumba.
Other.
The Red White And Blue, Barnyard Serenade, Swing Swing Mother-In-Law, Dinah,
Love Is In The Air, Love Please Stay, Harlem On Parade, You And Me That Used To
Be, On Moonlight Bay, Boo Hoo, The Melancholy Clown, Swing Low Sweet Chariot,
Where Is The Sun, Vote For Mr Rhythm, Will O’ The Wisp, Sweet Heartache,
Tomorrow Is Another Day, I’d Do Anything For You,
The inclusion of classical and light music merely confirms Ambrose’s
‘something-for-everyone’ policy…a good thing or a bad thing according to taste.
‘Jazzing the classics’ wasn’t the aim, but rather to extend the appeal of these afternoon
programmes to older listeners. To arrange these pieces for dance orchestra Ambrose
obtained the services of light music composer/arranger Stanley Bowsher. Swing
enthusiasts may have regarded classical interludes with indifference, but they generally
loathed comedy numbers. And when we contemplate Max Bacon trundling down to the
‘mike’ to warble I Like Bananas Because They Have No Bones, it’s not difficult to
understand why some rhythm club members were becoming disillusioned. The
inducement for talented musicians to add clowning-around to their repertoire was
financial. In Max Bacon’s case it was his comic contributions to Ambrose’s output that
made him a ‘headlining’ act, not his instrumental virtuosity. And ‘headliners’ simply
had to be paid more than mere sidemen. Ambrose undoubtedly deplored both aspects.
Cowboy songs were also very popular at the time, although most that reached
the Hit Parade (a term just coming into use) were the products of Tin Pan
Alley/Hollywood rather than Nashville (already the centre of a thriving authentic
Country Music scene). Hawaiian music had ‘craze’ status in the mid-1930s, helped
along by the newly-available electric Hawaiian guitar. Latin American rhythms also
required special instruments to make them sound reasonably authentic, and by the mid1930s most of the top dancebands had mastered their use. Ambrose was an early
convert to the potency of Latin American music and put Sid Phillips and Max Bacon to
work on creating a suitable style. This they did and by 1937 the Ambrose band had
become a highly regarded exponent of this idiom.
So far as general pop-song output goes it was the usual mix of styles ranging
from bright and breezy up-tempo numbers to slow sentimental ballads, all well-played
and vocalised, but only a few standing the test of time. It would take a later generation
of song stylists to extract the potential from those songs that had any.
That just leaves the jazz-oriented – or swing – numbers to be considered.
However, this will be put-off for the time being, except to point out that only a fraction
of Ambrose’s instrumental output (much of which was certainly jazz-oriented, if not
jazz in the ‘pure’ sense) got to be recorded. And it has to be acknowledged that of all
the musical styles mentioned above, that which is now generally regarded as the most
musically significant was at the time the least popular…at least in Britain. As we shall
see, this fact of life would be the source of some grief as the Swing Era took-hold in
the United States.
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In mid-June, Ambrose was supposed to take his band over to France to open
the Chateau de Madinal - a ballroom attached to the Paris International Exposition.
However, a strike of building workers meant that the venue could not be opened on
time and the trip had to be put-off. Jack Harris had (reluctantly) agreed to lead a
substitute band at Ciro’s during the three weeks concerned, and was not pleased over
the sudden change of plan. Eventually an opening date in mid-July was announced and
Ambrose and the band duly arrived in Paris. But the ballroom was still not ready.
Ambrose was assured that all would be well within a day or so, and so he went off to
play golf with the American bandleader Leo Riesman. By Friday the venue was still
not ready to open and the following day the band was due to take part in an important
evening broadcast. The broadcast went ahead and so too did a concert the following
day. The broadcast was a success, but the concert wasn’t, due to inadequate prior
publicity. Ambrose then hung around until the middle of the week when he was told
that as the ballroom was unlikely to open in the foreseeable future his services were no
longer required! Apart from a dent in his ego, he didn’t come off too badly – he got to
keep the £3,000 fee. However, instead of doing the sensible thing and giving himself
and the band a ten-day break Ambrose made a fatal error – he returned not just to
London, but to the bandstand at Ciro’s.
Jack Harris was not the most pleasant of people at the best of times – even his
friends (and there were a few) admitted this. He had a reputation for ‘talking with his
fists’ and on one occasion it took three of his sidemen to drag him off a colleague who
was being strangled-to-death by Jack for speaking out of turn. Since Ciro’s opened he
had been largely sidelined while Ambrose fronted the band. Even so, he seemed
reasonably content and had a table permanently reserved at which he sat night after
night entertaining his friends. Even so there were some irritations occurring quite early
on. Like the time Evelyn Dall pointedly remarked into the ‘mike’ after completing a
number: ‘Leave some clothes on me Jack…I might catch cold!’ (implying that he was
‘undressing’ her with his eyes). In fact Harris was seething with resentment, and this
increased when Ambrose’s organisation rather than his own got the contract for the
Coronation Ball. Ambrose’s poll-winning status fuelled more resentment and by the
time of the Paris fiasco things were nearing breaking-point.
The end came when Ambrose arrived at Ciro’s in the evening of the day he
returned from Paris, paid-off the substitute band and re-installed his own (they had
merely been told to report for duty). When Harris arrived expecting to lead the
substitute band he found Ambrose already in place. Harris, uncharacteristically, stifled
his rage for the evening but next day demanded that Ambrose attend a meeting to
discuss some important matters concerning Ciro’s. What happened at that meeting has
never been revealed, but the outcome was the end of the partnership and the transfer of
Ambrose’s share to Jack Harris. By selling-out to Harris, Ambrose was able to pay-off
his part of the original loan, but the point is he hadn’t made a penny out of Ciro’s. It
had all been a terrible waste of time and effort. Ambrose staggered-on at Ciro’s until
his BBC contract expired at the end of July. Just before this it was announced that he
would be opening at the Café de Paris in mid-September, and before that would be
taking his band to Cannes for a four-week engagement at a casino called ‘Chez Victor’.
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By the time Ambrose and the band were en route to Cannes the second feature
film – ‘CALLING ALL STARS’ - was on general release. As before a minimal storyline
links a succession of variety acts set in various fake locations ranging from East End
slums to swish West End nightspots. (The film was partially aimed at American
audiences who expected British films to feature low-life cockneys and upper-class toffs
in equal measure.) Ambrose was given a small acting role and also introduced those
artists who appear in the scenes involving the band. He also gets to play a violin solo.
Songwriters Kennedy and Carr wrote several original numbers for this film, one of
which – Rhythm’s OK In Harlem - was later recorded by Ambrose. The incidental
music (mainly required for dance and acrobatic routines) was composed by Bert
Barnes, although some of the arrangements (for example Evelyn Dall’s rendition of
Organ Grinder’s Swing) were by Sid Phillips. A number that Sid wrote specially for
the film – Cotton Pickers’ Congregation – wasn’t used due to Ambrose’s objection to
white actors being scripted to appear in ‘black face’. As in the previous effort band
members appear in uniforms and Ambrose in white tie and tails – neither of which was
normal. No doubt most British, and some American, film audiences of the time would
have found ‘CALLING ALL STARS’ acceptable as a ‘second feature’, but no more than
that.
Earlier in the year Evelyn Dall had made a much better film for Rock Studios
called ‘SING AS YOU SWING’. In this film she co-starred with Claude Dampier, and
other cast members included the Mills Brothers, Mantovani and Nat Gonella. It came
as a surprise to many filmgoers that Evelyn could also act and dance as well as sing.
But it came as no surprise to Ambrose when she was offered a Hollywood contract by
Warner Brothers. From this time on it was going to be difficult to keep the Blonde
Bombshell in Britain…or was it?
Around the time that Evelyn was making her film she was obliged to play
another ‘role’, that of defendant in a civil action brought by the Foster Theatrical
Agency. This British organisation was sub-agent for the American agency that had
represented Evelyn Dall in the United States, and was bringing the action on behalf of
its transatlantic associate. Evelyn’s American agent was claiming 10% of her earnings
since joining Ambrose in August 1935. These were estimated to be around £3,500
[about £140,000 now], so she allegedly owed her agent £350 [£14,000]. The case came
to the High Court and was heard before Mr Justice Dumas. After due deliberations the
case was dismissed, but during the proceedings it was revealed that ‘Miss Dall’ was in
reality ‘Mrs Holmes’, having secretly married an Englishman called ‘Mr Holmes’
some time after her arrival in Britain. Inevitably there was speculation on the gossip
circuit about the mysterious ‘Mr Holmes’, and then someone ‘in the know’ revealed
that Ambrose’s assistant manager had been known as ‘Leslie Holmes’ before assuming
the name ‘Les Brannelly’. Asked to comment on whether Evelyn and Les were married
Ambrose made this statement: ‘I’m not saying they are…I’m not saying they
aren’t…I’m just not saying anything’. Significantly, Evelyn Dall’s marital status
affected her citizenship position vis-à-vis the United Kingdom. If she really was
married to an Englishman, then her employment status in the United Kingdom was
secure. Whether she would have been immune to legal action in the United States by
her erstwhile agent is another matter, because she remained an American citizen
notwithstanding her marriage to an ‘alien’. For reasons private and personal to Leslie
Holmes the marriage would not have been fully established in a legal sense and so
subsequent annulment made reasonably easy (which divorce wasn’t at this time in
England).
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While Ambrose was playing for dancers in Cannes his many fans in Britain
could still enjoy the weekly half-hour programmes on Radio Luxembourg, which
continued throughout the summer. Before leaving for the Continent, Ambrose had
discussed future broadcasting possibilities with the BBC and agreed to present a
regular one-hour studio-based Saturday evening show starting the first week in
October.
The Cannes date turned out to be almost as big a fiasco as the Paris trip earlier
in the year. For a variety of reasons Ambrose ended the engagement early. Some band
members remained in the South of France, while others (including Evelyn Dall) headed
for America. Ambrose, though, had to return to London and attend to some urgent
business, including a replacement for Alfie Noakes. Lew Davis was also leaving, but
not being replaced by a full-time player. Sid Phillips would also not be able to
contribute to the reed section for some time, necessitating a temporary replacement.
By mid-September Ambrose had finalised his future plans including a
residency at the Café de Paris and broadcasting and recording schedules. Here’s the
line-up for the re-formed band: AMBROSE & HIS ORCHESTRA
Director:
Brass:
Reeds:
Rhythm:
Strings:
Vocals:
Arrangers:
Eric Breeze (trombone)
Leslie Carew (trombone/+vocals)*
Chester Smith (tenor/clarinet)*
Tiny Winters (bass)
Eddie Lisbona (piano/accordion/+arranger)*
Jack Simpson (timpani/vibraphone/marimba)*
Ernie Lewis (violin)
Norman Cole (violin/+vocals)*
Evelyn Dall
Sam Browne
Vera Lynn
The Manhattan Trio*
Bert Barnes (chief-pro tem)
Clive Erard
Stanley Bowsher
Café de Paris personnel shown in bold type.
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Max Goldberg returned to lead the brass section in place of Alfie Noakes, and
with Tommy McQuater providing ‘hot’ trumpet solos it was only the absence of a third
trumpet that left anything to be desired. The departure of Lew Davis was to be
regretted and so was the absence of a third trombone. It was probably the need to
reduce the overall size of the orchestra that motivated Ambrose at this time because the
desirability of separate trumpet and trombone sections must by now have been
apparent. Nevertheless, his brass section as such was still a force to be reckoned with.
Chester Smith, Sid Phillips’ temporary replacement in the reeds section, was there to
reinforce Billy Amstell’s tenor, but now on second tenor rather than baritone. As
before, baritone solos were taken by Danny Polo. Tiny Winters had joined the rhythm
section in place of Dick Ball in the spring. Tiny had come to prominence in Lew
Stone’s band and was highly regarded in jazz circles. He also made occasional vocal
contributions during broadcasts. Norman Cole functioned with Ernie Lewis as a small
string section when required and played ‘hot’ fiddle solos and occasionally contributed
vocals. Bert Barnes co-ordinated the arranging team during Sid Phillips’ absence.
Sid took a temporary break from his duties with the Ambrose band that lasted
from August 1937 until early 1938. He was off to America at the invitation of one of
the most powerful figures in the American music industry – Irving Mills, who had long
been an admirer of Sid’s composing, arranging and performing skills. Others in
America were aware of Sid’s talents as a composer/arranger but most were unaware
that he was also an accomplished all-round sax player and clarinettist. Before outlining
Sid’s American experiences let’s briefly review his career to date.
Born into an East London middle class musical family Sid Phillips learned to
read music and play the piano as a child. Later he learned to play the clarinet and
subsequently alto, tenor and baritone saxophones. In the mid-1920s he formed his own
small jazz band called the Melodeons and successfully toured Europe for a couple of
years. On returning to Britain he studied music theory part-time and worked as a
session musician. In 1929 he joined the orchestrating staff of the Lawrence Wright
music publishing company where he was responsible for arrangements intended for
specific bands. One of the bands concerned was Ambrose’s, and Sid was encouraged to
direct the band when his own arrangements were being rehearsed (this was standard
practice with Ambrose). Ambrose and Lew Stone became impressed with Sid’s
musical talents, particularly when one of his early arrangements for the band – A
Japanese Dream – became a hit. In addition to orchestrations for Lawrence Wright,
Sid undertook session work and occasionally formed and led small ad hoc groups for
recording purposes.
In October 1932 Ambrose invited Sid to become a part-time member of the
orchestra, his main function being to provide support in the reeds section, both on
baritone sax and clarinet (occasionally bass clarinet). Such support was mostly
confined to recording and broadcasting sessions, although Sid was usually included in
touring line-ups. Because he rarely performed solos while playing with the band
(baritone and clarinet solos were generally undertaken by the first alto, who always led
the reeds section), Sid’s place in the band appeared to be rather low-key, but he was, of
course, also the chief arranger and had overall responsibility for the stage shows and
presentation of the band in general. It is impossible to overemphasise his importance in
the Ambrosian scheme of things throughout the 1930s. During his time with Ambrose
he continued to form and lead ad hoc bands for recording and broadcasting purposes.
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One of Sid Phillips’ first tasks after joining the arranging staff of the Lawrence
Wright Music Company was to orchestrate Hoagy Carmichael’s Star Dust for the
Ambrose band. Ambrose had heard Star Dust being played by the Isham Jones
orchestra on a US radio programme and approached its American publisher with a
view to using it in his own broadcasts. The publisher concerned was Irving Mills and
he readily agreed provided Ambrose did so under the auspices of Lawrence Wright
who published Mills’ output in Britain. And so the British public first became aware of
this lovely and enduring tune via one of Ambrose’s broadcasts from the May Fair
Hotel early in 1930. Later that year it was published as a piano piece (arrangement by
Jim Matté), and then a song (lyrics by Mitchell Parish) that became a big hit for British
cabaret singer/pianist ‘Hutch’. To some extent the song eclipsed the orchestral version
and Ambrose didn’t record his own arrangement until 1931. This, though, was released
in America (on the Gramophone label) and other Sid Phillips arrangements of Irving
Mills/Lawrence Wright material followed. Over the years Irving Mills’ appreciation of
Sid’s talents steadily grew. But who was this American music publisher, and why did
his views matter?
Irving Mills was born in New York City in 1884 and learnt to play the piano
and read music as a child. On leaving school he became a ‘song plugger’ for the
Whitney-Warner music publishing concern. Later he developed a cabaret act and sang
with various dance orchestras and also in vaudeville. During this time he also tried his
hand at song writing (both words and music), but with only minimal success. However,
by the end of the First World War his talents had extended to making stock
orchestrations for music publishers and writing arrangements for vaudeville artists.
Like Ambrose, George Gershwin, Jimmy Durante and other white musicians, Mills
frequented the more exclusive Harlem clubs and became friendly with the likes of
James P. Johnson, Will Vodery, Luckey Roberts and Noble Sissle. Mills realised that
there was an enormous pool of African-American talent that was not receiving the
attention it deserved by the music industry. In partnership with his brother he formed a
corporation aimed principally at redressing the situation.
By the mid-1920 Mills Music Inc. embraced a number of functions including
music publishing, record production, talent management, public relations and band
promotion. In 1926 Irving Mills began his long association with Duke Ellington and
from the outset recognised the importance of Ellington’s artistic credentials. Apart
from publishing Duke’s output Mills also became the band’s manager and secured for
it an engagement at the famous Cotton Club in Harlem (where Mills also supplied the
floor show). The fact that the club was run by mobsters didn’t deter Mills, nor did the
fact that it catered exclusively for well-heeled whites perturb Duke. More important to
them was the regular broadcasting schedule that included early evening and late night
slots. Mills also took charge of Ellington’s recording career, securing contracts with
Victor, Columbia and Brunswick and a number of lesser labels and ensured that the
band was assigned to mainstream rather than ‘race’ labels. It was also through Mills’
influence that the Ellington band made two film appearances in the late 1920s. Despite
being ‘in it for the money’ Irving Mills never lost sight of Duke Ellington’s potential
as a sophisticated composer and spared no effort in promoting him as such.
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Apart from Duke Ellington, Irving Mills also managed a range of top AfricanAmerican talent from the late 1920s, including the bands of Cab Calloway, Fletcher
Henderson, Don Redman, Benny Carter and Jimmie Lunceford…all important
precursors of the Swing Era. In 1931 Mills took-over an African-American band,
renamed it the Mills Blue Rhythm Band and under the nominal leadership of Lucky
Millinder it became an important pre-Swing Era band. Mills didn’t confine his
activities to black artists, and an important aspect of his recording endeavours was the
formation of ad hoc studio bands in the late 1920s and early 1930s mainly comprising
New York-style jazz practitioners. These bands provided work for white musicians like
Bix Beiderbecke, Frankie Trumbauer, Eddie Lang, Joe Venuti, Jack Teagarden, Jimmy
and Tommy Dorsey, Danny Polo, Bunny Berigan, and arrangers Bill Challis and
Deane Kincaide. Despite the Great Depression and the catastrophic fall in record sales
in the early 1930s, Irving Mills was one of a small number of promoters who kept the
jazz flag flying over the recording studios. In 1936 he founded his own record labels –
Master and Varity – and it was probably in connection with these that the invitation to
Sid Phillips was extended. Our concern, though, is more with the popular music scene
that Sid was able to observe in America in the summer of 1937, and how it had
developed since 1931.
By the mid 1930s record sales were recovering from the all-time low in 1932,
although it is significant that in 1935 not a single record achieved million-seller status.
In 1937 total sales of RCA-Victor records topped ten million, as compared to thirtyfive million in 1928. But at least the trend was upwards and accelerating at a rate that
would restore the figure to thirty-five million by the end of the decade. A big boost to
record sales followed the introduction of the multi-selector jukebox in 1933. By 1937
around two-hundred thousand jukeboxes were in use throughout the United States.
Decca/US was the biggest supplier of records to the jukebox industry because their
records cost half as much as their main rivals and yet still featured top artists.
Records also became more important in broadcasting as the decade progressed.
By the mid-1930s the resistance of record companies to their output being played over
the radio had all but disappeared. In the late 1920s a ban on playing records over the
airwaves came into force, but only the network companies complied. Local radio
stations continued to use records without announcing that they were records,
sometimes even pretending that the music was being performed live in the studio! By
1934 there was sufficient evidence available to suggest that air-play time actually
boosted record sales and the big companies started to distribute free promo records to
radio stations. The era of the ‘disc jockey’ had arrived (although like ‘jukebox’ the
term didn’t come into widespread use until the 1940s). One of the pioneering disc
jockeys in New York after 1935 was Martin Block whose radio programme ‘MAKE
BELIEVE BALLROOM’ was hugely popular. Los Angeles-based Al Jarvis was
another influential disk jockey at the time. Eventually, records played over the air
became more important than live performances so far as the popularity of bands was
concerned. This was certainly so in Ambrose’s case and it was because Martin Block
and Al Jarvis and many others played certain Ambrose titles on their programmes that
his Decca recordings took-off in the United States. Ambrose also did quite well on the
jukebox circuit, usually against stiff competition.
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Despite the growing importance of records, ambitious bandleaders still sought
engagements at venues that provided broadcasting opportunities. The networks
continued to present coast-to-coast studio-based radio shows based around big name
bands and those of Paul Whiteman, Fred Waring, Wayne King and especially Guy
Lombardo dominated the latter half of the decade just as much as they had the first
half. They remained hugely popular with a mass listening public because their playing
styles remained essentially unchanged. With the partial exception of Paul Whiteman,
none of these bands contributed in any meaningful way to the Swing Era. Studio-based
programmes benefited from electrical transcription techniques that enabled radio
transmissions to be staggered, so overcoming the time-zone problem. However,
‘remote’ broadcasts from venues weren’t generally so treated and over time these came
to be restricted to local rather than coast-to-coast transmissions.
Many of the innovations, then, that occurred in popular music in the first half of
the 1930s were localised, and at first emerged from musicians and bands that served
minority interests. Some of these minorities were widespread though still localised,
such as the patrons of country music and ‘race’ music (later called ‘rhythm and blues’).
Others – like the white ‘younger generation’ – had a degree of coherence due to their
demand for music suited to new dancing styles. The word ‘demand’ is important, and it
took quite a time for some demands to be generally satisfied. Popular dancing is a good
example. In the late 1920s African-Americans took to a dance that was essentially an
alternative to the Charleston, called the ‘lindy hop’. This became very popular in black
clubs and dance halls where jazz was played in addition to ‘sweet’ music (conventional
ballroom dancing was also popular with black patrons and so too were ‘sweet bands’).
Some dance halls primarily intended for African-Americans dancers had special ropedoff areas reserved for white dancers (such halls were invariably owned by white
entrepreneurs). By the mid-1930s a new dance – the ‘jitterbug’ – had become popular
with young whites in certain areas, like the West Coast. As with the foxtrot twenty
years earlier and the Charleston ten years earlier, a ‘craze’ came into being despite the
objections of the older generation in general and dance hall proprietors in particular.
And this new dance craze required a ‘new’ kind of music.
Just as the jitterbug had its roots in a dance originating in the 1920s, so too did
‘swing music’ emerge from ideas and practices developed around the same time. Of
particular importance were innovations popularised by the bands of Fletcher
Henderson and Jean Goldkette. The important thing to note is that one band was black,
the other white and this was representative of the fact that the development of swing
music was truly inter-racial (whether the contributions were equal in importance is
another matter). The two arrangers concerned (Don Redman with Henderson, Bill
Challis with Goldkette) directly influenced each others work (even to the extent of
‘swapping’ orchestrations) and the Goldkette band contained many of the musicians
that came to dominate white jazz in New York in the late 1920s. The final barrier that
had to fall before swing music could emerge was the predominance of the tuba/banjo
combination in rhythm sections. Once a satisfactory relationship between string bass,
guitar, drums and piano had become established in the early 1930s the ‘new’ music
that the younger generation craved could emerge.
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Don Redman left Fletcher Henderson’s band in 1927 while it was still resident
at the Roseland Ballroom. Like Henderson his background was African-American
middle-class, although unlike Henderson his college degree was in music. An early
determination to learn every instrument in the danceband meant that he never
developed any real virtuosity as a player but it did make him an innovative arranger.
After leaving Henderson’s band Redman freelanced for a while, providing
orchestrations for Paul Whiteman, Vincent Lopez, Isham Jones and many others. Later,
he was invited to take over an African-American band under the control of Jean
Goldkette – McKinney’s Cotton Pickers. Redman turned what had been a novelty
orchestra into one of the most highly acclaimed bands of the late-1920s. At this time
Redman was producing arrangements of exceptional complexity, and to some extent
moving away from the kind of jazz that was a precursor to the Swing Era. In the early
1930s he formed his own band, which broadcast regularly and became very popular.
Don Redman’s principal contributions to the Swing Era were the arranging innovations
he introduced earlier when working for Henderson, particularly during Louis
Armstrong’s brief spell with band.
Benny Carter was a largely self-taught African-American multi-instrumentalist,
composer and arranger. Unlike Don Redman he was an outstanding performer,
particularly on saxophone. His main influence as a saxophonist was Frankie
Trumbauer and he also greatly admired the arranging skills of Bill Challis. Benny
Carter followed Don Redman into the Henderson band, and also took-over
McKinney’s Cotton Pickers for a while after Redman’s departure. Then he alternated
between freelance arranging, directing recording groups and fronting his own
broadcasting band. Like Don Redman he became popular with white audiences. In
March 1936 he came to Europe and for a while was guest arranger with the BBC
Dance Orchestra. More important was the work he did with various groups of British
musicians in the recording studio, and on the Continent. He spent about two years in
Europe before returning to the United States. Although Benny Carter’s jazz credentials
were never in doubt his arranging techniques were particularly applicable to
dancebands, even ones as basic as the BBC Dance Orchestra. Ambrose and Benny
Carter became good friends, and on a number of occasions Benny sat-in with the band
when it played at private functions (the terms of his work permit prohibited public
performances).
What of the bandleader with whom both Don Redman and Benny Carter first
came to prominence? Well, Fletcher Henderson continued to front outstanding bands
in the late 1920s but this was in spite of, rather than because of, his leadership. Never
particularly good at running a band, his leadership skills declined even further after he
suffered a road accident in 1928. However, his ability as an arranger remained
undiminished. By the early 1930s he was producing arrangements that met most of the
criteria against which the great swing bands of the late-1930s would be judged,
particularly after switching to a ‘modern’ rhythm section in 1930. Not even the
tutelage of Irving Mills could save Henderson’s band from temporarily folding, and
when this happened he had little choice but to hire-out his arranging skills to others.
Many of his own band arrangements were sold-off to those bandleaders who had the
foresight to appreciate their brilliance.
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Two bandleaders who had such foresight were Isham Jones and Benny
Goodman. In the summer of 1935 both bands were on tour and their paths crossed in
Denver when the Goodman band followed the Jones band into the Elitch Gardens
Ballroom. Before going out on the road both bandleaders had broadcast and recorded a
number of Fletcher Henderson arrangements – a good example being King Porter
Stomp. On tour, Benny Goodman felt obliged to put his more adventurous
arrangements to one side and play what ballroom managers believed dancers wanted.
Isham Jones never took any notice of what other people wanted including those who
booked his band (and no one ever dared to challenge the terrifying Mr Jones!). At the
Elitch Gardens Isham Jones was a huge success – Benny Goodman a flop. The Jones
band continued touring in an easterly direction, while Goodman’s band followed its
Denver stint with an engagement at the Palomar Ballroom in Los Angeles.
The Goodman band was not unknown on the West Coast because when it had
broadcast from New York some months earlier the programmes had been transmitted
coast-to-coast. However, the different time zones meant that these programmes went
out in the evening on the West Coast, rather than late at night. What’s important here is
that Benny’s radio audience in Los Angeles had included teenaged high school kids
who listened to the radio around their bedtime. And they had liked what they had heard
on the radio and came to the Palomar on opening night to listen as much as to dance.
And what they heard at the Palomar – Benny’s standard ballroom fare – they didn’t
like at all! According to legend, Benny threw caution to the wind and substituted King
Porter Stomp for whatever anodyne number he had intended to play. There was an
immediate convulsive reaction among the young Los Angeles audience, most of them
gathering round the bandstand instead of dancing. For the rest of the Polomar
engagement the Goodman band was an enormous hit, and this was followed by similar
successes in Detroit and Chicago (where the band remained for a six-month residency
and resumed broadcasting). Although it would take another two years to fully emerge,
and even more to reach maturity, the Swing Era had arrived. Unfortunately, many of
those who paved the way would receive little or no recognition.
Certainly, the residents of West Coast cities weren’t starved of live rhythmic
music before the appearance of Benny Goodman in the summer of 1935. Jazz clubs
had flourished in LA for around twenty years, particularly on and around Central
Avenue. It was a similar story in San Francisco, and some bands had a following that
was country-wide – for example Les Hite’s band, for many years resident at the New
Cotton Club in Culver City.
During the Great Depression out-of-work musical talent of all kinds migrated to
the West Coast - Los Angeles in particular - from the south-western states along the
legendary Route 66, and along with illegal migrants from Mexico and elsewhere,
brought a rich cultural heritage with them. And it wasn’t only jazz and swing that
benefited. By the late 1930s there were clubs on Central Avenue in which a musical
idiom that would later be called ‘rhythm and blues’ was starting to take-hold. Only the
absence of the electric guitar was restricting its development…and that instrument was
already more than a glint in the eyes of enterprising guitar makers.
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Benny Goodman’s success did not go unnoticed by other bandleaders or for
that matter the moguls of Tin Pan Alley. The terms ‘swing’ and ‘swing band’ had been
in general use since the early 1930s, while the terms ‘jazz’ and ‘hot rhythm’ though not
exactly out-of-fashion, didn’t quite fit the image that a rising generation of pop music
fans wanted to project. Unlike their older contemporaries, who were still content with
the output of the Casa Loma Orchestra and similar outfits, these younger teenagers
wanted something (that to them seemed) new and rhythmically exciting. More than
this, they also wanted to adopt cultural appendages that would distinguish them from
the older generation. Everything from language to fashion to dancing styles would be
used to set them apart. If Mom and Pop, and authority in general, didn’t approve of this
sub-culture, then so much the better! Disapproval is one thing – panic another. And on
the whole panic was avoided by a process of assimilation of what was clearly ethnic in
origin into the mainstream. Suitable role models had to be encouraged and the
youngish clean-cut talented white swing band leaders would do very nicely. The
projected image was becoming just as important as the music.
One bandleader who had an ‘image problem’ was Isham Jones. To him the only
thing that mattered was the music. His contempt for matters presentational was
legendary. No pleading on the part of ballroom managers could ever induce him to pay
attention to what he or his band looked like. Jones also had contempt for his audiences
- surely a much less admirable trait? And yet his broadcasts, which resumed at the
same time as Benny Goodman’s in the autumn of 1935, were featuring some of the
most advanced jazz-oriented arrangements of the time. One of Jones’ featured soloists
was Woody Herman (who had joined the band in 1934 on clarinet and baritone), and
he always maintained that the Isham Jones band had all the elements of a really great
swing band (and so too did other prominent musicians). Perhaps Isham Jones was
perceptive enough to realise that he was about to be eclipsed by younger, more image
conscious bandleaders. For whatever reason, he disbanded and went into semiretirement in 1936. Until the end of the 1930s he occasionally assembled studio bands
for recording purposes and also made some arrangements of his own compositions for
other bandleaders. His last big Tin Pan Alley hit – No Greater Love – appeared in
1936, joining forty or so other hits in the Golden Age lexicon. In 1940 Isham Jones,
still only in his mid-forties, quit band leading (but not composing) for good. Ambrose
rarely named those whose music had inspired his own band leading career, but always
made an exception in the case of Isham Jones.
A nucleus of Isham Jones’ sidemen, including Woody Herman, attempted to
form a co-operative orchestra after Jones disbanded in 1936. Called the Band That
Plays the Blues, the new outfit was based in New York and in late 1936 secured an
engagement at the famous Roseland Ballroom. At this venue the band was a great
success, but generally it was an uphill struggle to play their kind of music and stay in
business. In 1937 the band, by now entirely under the control of Woody Herman,
secured a Decca/US recording contract. It was this that saved it from going under
because it became in effect the Decca house band, backing artists like Mary Martin,
and the Andrews Sisters. Meanwhile the band obtained what engagements it could in
the New York area until really taking-off as the 1930s came to a close.
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Another bandleader destined for great things in 1937 was Glenn Miller. Then
thirty-three, Miller had over ten years of performing and arranging experience, and had
been trying for some time to become a bandleader. After graduating from Colorado
University in the mid-1920s he played trombone in several small-time bands and
continued to study arranging techniques. Miller’s first big break came when he joined
Ben Pollack’s band and although his trombone playing was eclipsed when Jack
Teagarden arrived to play in the band, his arranging skills became sufficiently honed to
ensure a reasonable future as a freelance orchestrator and musical director. In the early
1930s he alternated between session work on trombone and arranging. In 1934 he
became staff arranger for the newly-formed Dorsey Brother’s Orchestra and when this
folded he arranged for Ozzie Nelson and the Casa Loma Orchestra. Glenn Miller was
also involved with the formation of an American band for Ray Noble who,
accompanied by singer Al Bowlly, came to New York in the summer of 1934 for an
engagement at the Rainbow Room. Ray Noble was, of course, an accomplished
composer, songwriter and arranger and had first come to the attention of American
record buyers when some of his extensive HMV output was released in the United
States in the early 1930s. A number of titles became minor hits, but it was really his
song writing that propelled him to fame. In some ways he was the British equivalent to
Isham Jones, although unlike Jones, Ray Noble tended to prefer the ‘sweet’ side of the
musical spectrum.
According to Leonard Feather, Sid Phillips met Glenn Miller for the first time
during his American visit, but in Miller’s case an association of sorts had existed some
years before. It was during Miller’s time with the Dorsey Brother’s Orchestra that an
arrangement-swapping agreement with the Ambrose Orchestra came into being. So
both arrangers were familiar with each other’s work. At this time Glenn Miller was in
some awe of the Ambrose band partly because it was commercially successful, but also
because it had a specific ‘sound identity’ – the very thing that was proving so elusive
in his own case. According to Leonard Feather: ‘Both Woody Herman and Glenn
Miller were struggling to establish orchestras, and whereas Woody was cautiously
optimistic, Glenn was despondent and somewhat bitter…he had lost a lot of money on
a couple of attempts to start a band and it wasn’t turning out to be a case of “third time
lucky”!’ Indeed not, and despite a recording contract with Decca/US he failed to make
any commercial impact in 1937 and once again disbanded.
Another musician who ran into trouble in 1937 with a band he had formed a
year earlier was Artie Shaw. Like Benny Goodman, Woody Herman and Glenn Miller
he wanted something more adventurous than the standard dance orchestra, and like
them he had come up against a wall of indifference. He was about the same age as
Woody Herman and hailed from Connecticut. He learned to play the saxophone while
still at school and later took-up the clarinet. He also studied theory and classical music
part-time. A spell in Chicago in the late 1920s brought him into contact with AfricanAmerican jazz musicians and this helped to form his playing style. In 1930 he came to
New York and for the next five years worked as a session musician and for a time
altoist with André Kostelanetz. In 1936 he formed his first band – an unorthodox unit
comprising a string quartet, rhythm section and clarinet (later, small brass and reed
sections were added). Despite a residency at the Lexington Hotel, the band was not a
success and Artie Shaw had to re-form as a conventional danceband.
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Artie Shaw didn’t completely abandon an adventurous approach, and both his
own orchestrations and those of his newly-hired arranger Jerry Gray sought to
capitalise on the increasingly popular swing-style. By the end of the year the band had
taken-off. Artie Shaw was another American bandleader who held the Ambrose band
in high esteem. He had listened to Ambrose’s transcription broadcasts the previous
year and had been particularly impressed by the internal precision of the ensemble
playing and use of strings (both being important to his own ambitions). Later, he was
amazed to learn from Sid that Ambrose’s string section only comprised three fiddles.
One number that Artie Shaw and Jerry Gray considered to be tops was Ambrose’s
version of Caravan (composed by Duke Ellington and Juan Tizol), which was in fact
arranged by Bert Barnes and not Sid Phillips.
During his stay in America Sid Phillips met several major bandleaders through
the good offices of Irving Mills and his associate Tom Rockwell (one of the most
important band-booking agents in America). Bandleaders whom Sid particularly
admired at this time included Hal Kemp and Jimmie Lunceford. As we shall see later,
Lunceford’s band had a profound effect on Sid’s approach to arranging for the
Ambrose Orchestra when he resumed his duties as chief arranger early in 1938.
Sid also met innumerable musicians - session players and sidemen in top bands.
Many of these frequented the after-hours jazz clubs on Manhattan’s 52nd Street.
Leonard Feather observed that at one of these – The Famous Door – Sid was invited to
play clarinet with an ad hoc band that included: Bunny Berigan and Bobby Hackett,
(trumpets), Teddy Wilson (piano), Gene Krupa (drums), and Red Norvo (vibes).
It wasn’t only danceband leaders and the big band fraternity that had formed a
high opinion of Sid Phillips’ composing skills. Among his American admirers was
André Kostelanetz. He led what was essentially a large concert orchestra that included
a number of jazz-oriented players and set the standard for rhythmic light music for
over a decade. André Kostelanetz had a hugely popular weekly radio programme on
the CBS network sponsored by Chesterfield Cigarettes and he popularised Sid’s
composition Night Ride in the summer and autumn of 1937.
While Sid Phillips was getting to grips with the American music scene the reformed Ambrose band was settling into the Café de Paris, preparing for a return to
broadcasting on BBC airwaves and recording further programmes for Radio
Luxembourg (pre-recorded programmes had run continuously on Luxembourg
throughout the summer). There was also a recording schedule for Decca to be
undertaken after a break of almost two months. In addition to all this, shooting was due
to start on Ambrose’s third film in mid-October. And in the late autumn some earlyevening stage shows at London cinemas were planned. Bert Barnes temporarily took
over Sid Phillips’ co-ordination duties in the arranging department, but Ambrose was
forced to find a permanent replacement for Joe Brannelly as band manager. Relations
between Joe and Ambrose had been under strain for some months, primarily due to
Evelyn Dall’s constant and unconcealed hostility towards Vera Lynn that Ambrose
chose to ignore. After a further serious difference of opinion developed towards the
end of the year Joe accepted an offer from Jack Harris to become his band manager.
This job didn’t last long and subsequently he went into music publishing and band
promotion work. In time the quarrel with Ambrose was healed, but Joe Brannelly never
returned to the orchestra he had served so well for ten years.
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Joe Brannelly’s role was taken-over by his assistant (and brother-in-law) Les
Brannelly (real name - Leslie Holmes). Other personnel changes were outlined above.
Vera Lynn now joined the vocal team on a permanent basis and the Manhattan Trio reengaged.
Ambrose’s new BBC radio show started in early October. Broadcast live on
Saturdays between 10.30 and 11.30pm, the series was, somewhat oddly, called: ‘THE
SIGNATURE IS…’ Here’s a play-list for the show on Saturday 16th October 1937: Monopoly Swing…Instrumental
Take Your Pick And Swing…Evelyn Dall
Stardust On The Moon…Sam Browne
Moonlight On The Waterfall…Vera Lynn
A Message From Mars…Instrumental.
Donkey Serenade…Sam Browne
The Big Apple…Evelyn Dall
Barnyard Serenade…Instrumental
All God’s Chillun Got Rhythm…Manhattan Trio.
My Lost Love…Sam Browne
Pancho’s Widow…Leslie Carew/Max Bacon
Home Town…Sam Browne
Time Signal…Instrumental
The Shag…Evelyn Dall
That Old Feeling…Sam Browne
You’re Here You’re There You’re Everywhere…Vera Lynn
It Looks Like Rain In Cherry Blossom Lane…Sam Browne
Bomba Plays The Rumba…Evelyn Dall
She’s My Lovely…Sam Browne
Given the amount of material listed it seems that Ambrose was continuing to
provide fast-paced fare with minimal continuity between numbers, although he now
had sufficient confidence to take care of announcements between numbers himself.
Shooting for Ambrose’s third feature-length film ‘KICKING THE MOON
AROUND’ commenced at Pinewood Studios in the first week of November and was
scheduled to last for six weeks. With a budget of £75,000 [about £3,000,000 now] this
was a somewhat more ambitious project than the previous two efforts and was being
undertaken by a different production company – Vogue Films. Ambrose’s personal fee
was £10,000 [£400,000] and Evelyn Dall’s £2,000 [£80,000]. Only two other band
members had speaking parts – Max Bacon and Leslie Carew. Co-starring with Evelyn
Dall were Florence Desmond, Hal Thompson and Edward Rigby. American
singer/comedian Harry Richman was the main guest star along with Ambrose.
Maureen O’Hara (making her film debut) had a ‘cameo’ part. The producer was
Herbert Wynne, and the director Walter Forde who directed stage shows as well as
films and had worked in America.
Like all British musicals of the era this film in no way compares with the best
that Hollywood had to offer, but then Hollywood also churned-out ‘B-film’ musicals
and ‘KICKING THE MOON AROUND’ is no worse than many of these. Even so,
anyone hoping to see much of the Ambrose band in action would be disappointed - a
superb (though interrupted) rendition of the instrumental Night Ride is of most interest.
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A five-man writing team worked on the film including Tom Geraghty and
Roland Pertwee. Michael Carr and Jimmy Kennedy provided a number of original
songs and the arrangements for the Ambrose Orchestra and the incidental music were
undertaken by Bert Barnes. The original title for this film – ‘KICKING THE MOON
AROUND’ – was adopted for the initial release in Britain. This title was changed to
‘THE PLAYBOY’ for release in America and for revival releases in Britain after the
war it was re-titled – ‘MILLIONAIRE MERRY-GO-ROUND’. The length of the film
also differs according to title, with a Harry Richman song cut from the later British
releases.
Returning to the Ambrose band’s recording exploits we will consider a
representative sample of Decca releases for the second half of 1937: [Vocal by Sam Browne…Hometown, It Looks Like Rain In Cherry Blossom Lane,
In The Mountains Of The Moon, You’ve Got To Blow Your Own Trumpet, The
Moon Got In My Eyes, Sing A Song Of London, I’ve Got My Love To Keep Me
Warm, There’s A Lull In My Life, Never In A Million Years, Can I Forget You,
Smile When You Say Goodbye, Little Old Lady, Stardust On The Moon. [Vocal by
Vera Lynn… Keep Calling Me Sweetheart, Sympathy, Moonlight On The Waterfall,
The Little Boy That Santa Claus Forgot, You’re Here You’re There You’re
Everywhere. [Vocal by Evelyn Dall… It’s The Natural Thing To Do. [Vocal by the
Manhattan Trio… Oh They’re Tough Mighty Tough In The West. [Instrumentals…
Cotton Pickers’ Congregation, Twilight In Turkey, Deep Henderson, The Toy
Trumpet, Power House, Message From Mars.
By the end of 1937 the total number of Ambrose titles that had been released on
the Brunswick/UK and Decca/UK labels (and all under the aegis of Decca) since 1933
was around 350 (175 records). Some deletions of 1933 Brunswick titles had occurred
by 1937, but sales of all Decca titles remained sufficiently buoyant to justify the usual
‘three year availability’ criteria that major record companies adopted at the time. There
is no way of determining which of Ambrose’s titles were really big hits in Britain due
to the absence of record charts (except for the chart that Decca applied to its own
artists and which assumed that a record was purchased for its ‘A’ side which was not
always the case). As we shall see eventually, the end of 1937 marked a significant
point in Ambrose’s recording career with Decca. This was the time that Ambrose’s
releases in America reached their peak and it’s important to note that as the Swing Era
accelerated towards eventual domination of the American popular music scene
Ambrose’s instrumental recordings on Decca/US received more critical acclaim in the
US than in the UK. It’s also worth noting that Ambrose had by this time acquired a
substantial international reputation as a result of Decca’s world-wide sales policy.
Neither the volume of these sales nor their worth in monetary terms can be discovered
at the present time. However one thing is certain – Ambrose was among the very
highest earners in British show business at this time. Unfortunately for him, outgoings
continued to exceed what was coming in. This was partly due to the enormous cost of
the aggregation he presided over, but also exacerbated by his unremitting gambling
habit and ultra-lavish lifestyle.
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The contribution that Sid Phillips made to Ambrose’s success as a recording
artist is clear from the number of titles in previous lists that can be attributed to his
arranging remit. Of course as chief arranger Sid was continuing policies that had been
formulated by Lew Stone and with which he would have been thoroughly familiar
because the work of both arrangers for Ambrose overlapped. Even so, it was not until
after Lew Stone finally severed his connection with Ambrose in 1932 that the
possibility of recording some of the more jazz-oriented instrumental numbers in the
band’s book arose.
But only some! A glance at previous play-lists for broadcasts shows that many
of Ambrose’s instrumental numbers were never commercially recorded. In the long run
this neglect was commercially as well as artistically detrimental, because most of
Ambrose’s recorded instrumental output sold modestly but steadily over a long period
of time. However, record companies wanted quick results from their top artists – the
companies’ immediate problems were usually of the short-term cash-flow type. 50,000
copies of Home James And Don’t Spare The Horses sold over ten months during 1935
was of much greater interest than the possibility of selling 50,000 copies of Hors
D’Oeuvres over ten years. Of course it could be argued that there was little point in
recording an umpteenth cover version of Dippermouth Blues, or whatever, however
innovative the arrangement. Accepting that this is a valid point of view, less easy to
justify is the failure to record the jazz-oriented numbers that were especially composed
for the band, particularly as anecdotal evidence suggest that a significant number of
these were outstanding. Sid Phillips certainly experienced a sense of frustration due to
the ‘piling-up’ of his own compositions deemed suitable for publication but not
released from ‘sole rights’ status because they had not been recorded. To some extent
this led to the association with Irving Mills, and eventually Ambrose agreed to the use
of both the material he had commissioned from Sid and the Ambrose Orchestra (‘renamed’ Sid Phillips & His Band) for recording purposes.
An American band that Sid Phillips particularly admired was the Bob Crosby
Orchestra. Like the Casa Loma Orchestra this was a co-operative venture started by a
nucleus of musicians who split from Ben Pollack’s band in 1935 due to a row over
musical policy. By the time the band secured its first engagement at the Roseland
Ballroom in New York the line-up included reed players Matty Matlock, Gil Rodin and
Deane Kincaide, brass players Yank Lawson and Joe Harris and bass player Bob
Haggart. Bob Crosby (Bing’s kid brother) was engaged to front the band on the
recommendation (i.e. insistence) of its promoter Tom Rockwell. Neither Bob Crosby’s
baton waving nor crooning efforts were taken seriously by the band but he provided a
focal point that musically-uneducated audiences seemed unable to do without. The
band’s book contained many instrumental numbers arranged in a big-band Dixieland
style. The line-up resembled that of a typical swing band, but with featured solos
played in New Orleans-style by Matlock (clarinet), Rodin (tenor), Lawson (trumpet)
and Harris (trombone) against backings played by the rest of the band. This resulted in
a unique orchestral jazz style. Significantly, Sid had adopted a complementary style for
some of his own arrangements for Ambrose - for example Dixieland Band (1935).
However, by 1937 the Crosby band was using this style for most instrumental numbers
and also some arrangements involving vocals.
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But it was something else connected with the Bob Crosby Orchestra that
particularly attracted Sid’s attention. In the spring of 1937 the aforementioned soloists
and the rhythm section had formed a ‘band-within-a-band’, an eight-piece unit called
the Bob Cats that was regularly featured during the main orchestra’s live appearances.
Although Sid Phillips certainly didn’t abandon his interest in the development of swing
music and the forms of ‘cool’ jazz that were just then starting to emerge, it was the
hard-swinging smallish Dixieland combo that really claimed his devotion from this
time on.
It wasn’t only instrumental music that concerned Sid during his stay in
America. Ever the realist, he knew full well that vocal content and comedy routines
were essential ingredients for the kind of commercial success that large orchestras had
to achieve if they were to stay in business. Even the Bob Crosby Orchestra
occasionally resorted to a string section to provide backing for the vocalising of its
leader and others in order to fulfil the terms of its recording contract with Decca/US.
Bob Crosby’s crooning was competent but not on a par with that of his brother Bing
who set the standard for male band singers until the late 1930s. By 1931 Bing had left
the Paul Whiteman band to pursue a solo career that had started with his own recording
contract in the late-1920s. In 1937 he was awarded the first of four Academy Awards
(Oscars) that would come his way over the years. The 1937 Oscar was for Sweet
Leilani from the film ‘WAIKIKI WEDDING’. Essentially though, Bing owed his
success to radio and records and his kind of relaxed informality depended on the use of
a microphone. Bing wasn’t exactly a jazz singer but he had a feeling for jazz and the
blues that influenced his output. Some of his best work in the early 1930s was backed
by small groups of jazz musicians including guitarist Eddie Lang. One white male
singer who came close to challenging Bing’s supremacy was Russ Columbo, but he
had died in a shooting accident in 1934.
Because so much of the output of Tin Pan Alley in the 1930s bore a
relationship to jazz (even if once or several times removed) it was inevitable that
genuine jazz singers would handle such material in a way that was particularly stylish.
Their approach to music was essentially the same as jazz instrumentalists. In some
cases they were also instrumentalists, like Louis Armstrong, Fats Waller and Jack
Teagarden. On the female side solo artists like Mildred Bailey, Connie Boswell and
Ethel Waters were achieving high artistic standards with quite routine material, usually
aided and abetted by top jazz musicians. And band singers like Ivie Anderson (Duke
Ellington), Helen Ward (Benny Goodman) and Edythe Wright (Tommy Dorsey) were
well known to radio audiences and with the record-buying public. (Unlike in Britain,
the better-known band vocalists were usually named on record labels.)
So far as vocal groups were concerned the Mills Brothers reigned supreme
from the mid-1930s until the end of the decade, and the Boswell Sisters from the late
1920s until 1935. After the mid-1930s the Andrews Sisters became increasingly
popular and largely set the standard for all-girl vocal groups. Mixed boy/girl vocal
groups were somewhat rare in the 1930s but Kay Thompson’s Rhythm Singers were a
highly popular group that set the standard for similar mixed groups then and later. (In
1937 the dynamic Kay Thompson went to Hollywood where her skills as an arranger,
writer and vocal coach were put to good use over the following decade.)
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Sid’s American experiences had a potential significance for the Ambrose
Orchestra because of his position within that orchestra and his relationship with its
leader. That relationship might have been severed had Sid opted to continue working in
America - the opportunities to do so were there in abundance, including lucrative
offers from Irving Mills and Paul Whiteman. But for Sid such a move wasn’t really on.
America had everything to offer except the one thing that he loved almost as much as
music – cricket. And for Sid, life without cricket was as unthinkable as life without
music!
The hits of 1937 included, as usual, many that Ambrose didn’t record but
which may have been featured in broadcasts and live performances. Here are the most
notable: Blue Turning Grey Over You, Bob White, Can I Forget You, The Folks Who Live On
the Hill, Gone With The Wind, Gypsy In my Soul, I Can Dream Can’t I, I Double Dare
You, I Wish I Were In Love Again, I’ll Take Romance, I’ve Got Beginner’s Luck, In
The Still Of The Night, Johnny One Note, Moon Of Manakoora, My Funny Valentine,
Nice Work If You Can Get It, On The Sentimental Side, Sail Along Silvery Moon, They
All Laughed, They Can’t Take That Away, Things Are looking Up, Whispers In The
Dark, Wake Up And Live, You’re A Sweetheart.
Back in Britain during the final weeks of 1937 Ambrose completed his filming
schedule and made preparations for a number of special one-nighters including a
charity ball at the Royal Albert Hall. Since September the band had been in residence
at the Café de Paris and apart from the usual music for dancing support had to be
provided for the nightly cabaret that was a feature of that venue. Artists appearing there
during Ambrose’s tenure included Marlene Dietrich, Frances Day and Gracie Fields.
The twelve-piece band at the Café de Paris was mostly in the charge of Ernie Lewis
with Ambrose making occasional and usually brief appearances. Only two of the vocal
team – Sam Browne and Vera Lynn – sang with the band at the Café de Paris on a
regular basis until the end of the year.
Saturday evening broadcasts continued with Vera Lynn now regularly featured.
Her contributions to the Sunday evening Radio Luxembourg shows were now also on a
weekly basis. Any doubts that Ambrose may have had about engaging Vera on a fulltime basis had disappeared and by the time the record on which she sang The Little Boy
That Santa Claus Forgot became a big hit in the run-up to Christmas he was already
planning a major role for her in his next touring show. On Christmas Day 1937
Ambrose’s BBC radio show was scheduled for the slot immediately preceding the
King’s Christmas broadcast, and must have attracted his biggest ever listening
audience. For this show Ambrose hired a male voice choir to sing a selection of
Christmas carols, and no doubt the rest of the programme was appropriately festive.
The next day a pre-recorded ‘SPECIAL GALA PROGRAMME’ was broadcast on
Radio Luxembourg.
The end of 1937 also brought to a close the peak years of Ambrose’s band
leading career. Not the conclusion of the story by any means, but the end of the most
rewarding phase. From this time on a combination of personal, financial and health
problems – and general circumstances beyond his control – would coalesce and rob
Ambrose of his supreme personal position in the danceband firmament. The reputation
of his magnificent 1930s orchestra, however, would remain relatively undiminished.
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1938-1940
As the penultimate year of the ‘thirties began Bert Ambrose at the age of forty-two
entered his third decade as a bandleader. Once the New Year festivities were out of the
way he concerned himself with preparations for the year ahead. One urgent task during
the first week of January was to find a replacement for Sam Browne, who had once
again teamed-up with Elsie Carlisle for a variety tour. Another attempt to hire Al
Bowlly came to nothing, although he did agree to undertake some work on a casual
basis. As an interim measure Ambrose hired two promising young vocalists - Alan
Kane to work at the Café de Paris, and Alan Marsh for regular broadcasting work. A
girl vocalist also appeared regularly at the Café de Paris in place of Vera Lynn, but all
that is known about her is her first name – June, and the fact that she didn’t stay very
long.
Vera was now required to join Evelyn Dall and a small show band that would
tour variety theatres in the London area until Easter, and also contribute to regular
studio broadcasts with the main band. Since joining the orchestra full-time in the
autumn of 1937 Vera had become very popular very fast, a point not lost on Ambrose,
and he certainly didn’t delay in taking full advantage of the fact despite the objections
of Evelyn. At this time it was somewhat unusual for a band to retain two full-time
female vocalists but as we shall see the contrasting singing styles of Evelyn and Vera
soon became an additional popular feature, and eventually set a precedent to be copied
by other bands.
The band that supported the stage show at this time had the following line-up:
THE AMBROSE SWING SEXTET
Leslie Carew (trombone/+vocals)
Danny Polo (clarinet/saxes)
Bobby McGee (piano)
Tiny Winters (bass)
All the members of this group joined with members of the band at the Café de
Paris to form the full orchestra that was used for broadcasting purposes. It was because
of this dual role for members of the sextet and because broadcasts over the BBC
airwaves went out live that the variety tour had to be restricted to the London area.
Apart from Evelyn and Vera, the Three Admirals (aka the Manhattan Trio) took
part in the stage show, and of course Max Bacon and Les Carew were featured in the
comedy routines that were deemed to be an essential part of these tours. With Sid
Phillips still in America, Ambrose was obliged to formulate and direct this stage show
personally, although he did not travel around with it. Comedy routines were written by
Ray Sonin and the musical arrangements were by Bert Barnes (who headed the
arranging team during Sid’s absence).
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The band that played at the Café de Paris had the following line-up:AMBROSE & HIS ORCHESTRA
Bert Ambrose (violin/+leader)
Ernie Lewis (violin/+deputy)
Eric Breeze (trombone)
Ralph Phillips (bass)
Jack Simpson (drums)
Alan Kane/June ? (vocals)
Personnel shown above in bold type joined with members of the sextet to form
the augmented orchestra (Jack Simpson switching to timpani/xylophone and two
violins being added).
A weekly series of live broadcasts from the BBC’s Maida Vale studios started
in mid-January. Ambrose had once again secured the much coveted Saturday 5-6pm
slot on the National Programme. This series, scheduled to last until Easter, was called
‘AN HOUR TO PLAY’. Here’s the play-list for 15th January 1938: The Snake Charmer…Instrumental.
Roses In December…Alan Marsh
The Gypsy In My Soul…Evelyn Dall
The Lonesome Trail…Manhattan Three
Silvery Moon And Golden Sands…Vera Lynn
Washington Squabble…Instrumental
Red Riding Hood…Max Bacon
Hear My Song…Alan Marsh/Manhattan Three
Popcorn Man…Evelyn Dall
Monopoly Swing…Instrumental
You Are My Lucky Star…Josephine Houston (guest artist)
We Like Eliza… Manhattan Three.
The Bells Of St Mary’s…Vera Lynn
On Linger Longer Island…Manhattan Three
Nice Work if You Can Get It…Evelyn Dall
Remember Me…Alan Marsh
True Confession…Vera Lynn
Some time during this series of broadcasts Al Bowlly is known to have
participated in at least one programme as guest artist. In parallel with the BBC
broadcasts the Sunday evening half-hour shows continued on Radio Luxembourg.
These were recorded at the IBC studios in Baker Street at intervals of roughly sixweeks, and were identical in format to the ‘MORNING NOON & NIGHT’
programmes that started in 1936.
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These radio Luxembourg shows continued until the summer of 1938, and
subsequently Ambrose’s broadcasts on European radio stations were one-off or shortseries events. The number of listeners tuning-in to Ambrose’s BBC National
Programme broadcasts is not known but given their peak transmission times it was
probably in excess of fifteen million. As can be seen from the play-list, there was no
shortage of instrumental numbers. The BBC ruling that at least one number in every
three should be an instrumental didn’t seem to be rigidly applied to studio-based
danceband programmes. Then as now most consumers of popular music preferred
songs and had little interest in instrumental virtuosity.
If radio listeners were obliged to tolerate some of what they didn’t appreciate,
the same cannot be said for variety theatre audiences. Ambrose was well aware of this
and anyone hoping to sample the jazz potential of the Ambrose Swing Sextet would
have come away substantially disappointed. Only one instrumental number would be
included in each stage show, and the band was really there to provide backing for the
vocal numbers and comedy routines.
The stage show commenced in mid-January with a week at the Holborn
Empire, then went to Finsbury Park and subsequently other London venues. Here’s a
typical programme: Rhythm Makes You Feel Good…Evelyn Dall
12th Street Rag…Instrumental
With All My Heart…Vera Lynn
Callaway Went Thataway…Leslie Carew/Max Bacon/Evelyn Dall
Crazy Rhythm… Three Admirals
Red Riding Hood {monologue}…Max Bacon
The Bells Of St. Mary’s…Vera Lynn/Three Admirals
Swing High Swing Low…Evelyn Dall
Later, the stage show switched to cine-variety, starting at the Gaumont-State
(Kilburn) and finishing at the Granada (Tooting) towards the end of March. For these
less demanding (and less lucrative) cinema shows a revised programme was used,
probably minus the comedy routines. Both parts of the tour were highly successful and
once again Ambrose had confirmed his credentials as a presenter of popular stage
shows.
At the Café de Paris Ambrose resumed fronting the band on violin, except
during the half-hour cabaret slot when Ernie Lewis took over unless somebody
important was appearing. One important guest that season was Gracie Fields,
exchanging her usual comedy role for that of a night club torch singer. Around this
time she was reputedly the highest-paid film actress in the world and had just
completed a stint in Hollywood. Not long after her appearance the cabaret was
temporarily dispensed with because the Café de Paris, along with other West End
nightspots, was beginning to lose money. And this wasn’t just one of those temporary
downturns in trade that occurred every so often, but rather a longer-term trend due to
increased taxation that particularly affected the upper classes in the late 1930s. An
accelerating rearmament programme had to be paid for and given the worsening
international situation there were now fewer complaints about this than had previously
been the case, particularly in the press.
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Some establishments were obliged to temporarily close-down, including the
Embassy Club. To compensate for the loss of the cabaret Ambrose brought Evelyn
Dall back to the Café de Paris when the stage show ended its tour, but categorically
refused the management’s request to cut the size of the band.
It wasn’t only West End nightspots that were feeling the pinch. British record
companies were also suffering a downturn in trade and consequently seeking to reduce
their production costs. Some of these costs were rising as a direct result of the
rearmament programme and could only be compensated for by raising the price of
records. This in turn led to reduced sales. One way of reducing the squeeze on profit
margins was to seek reductions in the royalties paid to recording artists, particularly
when their contracts came-up for renewal. This was the situation faced by Ambrose
when his contract with Decca/UK expired at the end of 1937.
At this time Ambrose had around 175 records listed in the Decca/UK catalogue.
Some of these dated back to the pre-1934 Brunswick era and most were selling well
above the criteria set by Decca for deletion. In Ambrose’s case the threshold figure was
quite high because his royalties were high and the profit margins relatively low. Now
Ambrose’s pre-1938 royalties were fixed by his contract and couldn’t be reduced at the
whim of Decca. The company could however raise the aforementioned threshold. If
this wasn’t done it suggests that the company was still making reasonable profits. This
was the kernel of Ambrose’s argument when Decca asked him to accept reduced
royalties as part of his new contract. One problem arising from Ambrose’s relatively
high royalties related to his less commercial output – essentially the jazz-oriented
instrumentals. These didn’t enjoy massive quick sales but were nevertheless good
earners over several years. But the record companies were really interested in quick
profits, particularly in the case of artists earning high royalties. Ambrose was in danger
of pricing himself out of the category of recording he valued the most. As he was
unlikely to get a better deal from the other major British record company (EMI),
Ambrose merely prolonged negotiations with Decca, but meanwhile did not make any
new records. During the first half of 1938 only a few titles held-over from previous
recording sessions were released, together with a number of re-issues.
Sid Phillips returned to the Ambrose Orchestra in mid-February after six
months in America. Ambrose immediately confirmed Sid’s position as chief arranger
and virtual second-in-command. For the next three years Sid would devote much of his
professional life to ensuring the success of the Ambrose band. Also, he would continue
to lead small ad-hoc bands under his own name for broadcasting and recording
purposes, and remain available for freelance composing and arranging commissions.
Ambrose had good reasons for delegating so much responsibility to Sid
Phillips. These reasons related to personal, financial and health problems, largely
hidden from public view but nevertheless making it difficult for him to continue
shouldering all the heavy responsibilities that had come his way. Unfortunately, with
Ambrose it was a case of ‘all-or-nothing’ - he simply had to preside over the best band
in the world…and so on and so forth. Matters really came to a head after the departure
of his band manager Joe Brannelly in the autumn of 1937. Joe’s replacement was his
assistant and protégé Les Brannelly (Leslie Holmes), but Les was only twenty-one and
too inexperienced at this time to be a really effective ‘straw boss’. It wasn’t the day-today running of the band that suffered but rather the band manager’s crucial role liaising
between band members and the leader.
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Joe Brannelly, with his Irish-American charm, had fulfilled this function with
consummate skill and until the disasters of 1937 the Ambrose band was essentially a
happy band. Early in 1938 it suddenly became an unhappy band due to Ambrose’s
inept handling of a problem that was essentially insoluble – ‘moonlighting’.
Ambrose paid each of his full-time sidemen a negotiated weekly wage in return
for which they worked to a schedule that complied with Musicians’ Union conditions.
This schedule was issued in advance and contained information regarding times and
locations for such things as rehearsals, broadcasting and recording sessions and any
special jobs. Regular work such as playing nightly at a venue was also specified.
Provided band members complied with the schedule the rest of the time was their own
and many used whatever spare time they had to undertake session work. In London,
this kind of work was mainly sought by genuine free-lance musicians who congregated
in Archer Street in the West End and negotiated for jobs with ‘fixers’ sent by whoever
required their services. Archer Street was essentially an outdoor employment exchange
for freelance and out-of-work musicians. Operating in parallel with this ‘open’ system
of casual employment was another less publicised arrangement for top-ranking
musicians available for session work. Some of these were genuine freelance musicians,
but most were in full-time employment. These ‘first-call’ musicians were so good that
their services were always in demand. They were not obliged to hang around Archer
Street in the hope of obtaining session work – the work came to them via a number of
specialist ‘fixers’.
Without exception during the 1930s Ambrose’s sidemen were regarded as
‘first-call’ sessioners and although there may have been those who didn’t take
advantage of the fact, most did at one time or another and some on a regular basis.
Ambrose was well aware of all this and actually made use of the very same service to
augment his own band. The important thing is that traditionally session musicians
remained anonymous. If, in his own spare time Max Bacon, say, played drums in a
band specially formed to back, say, Gracie Fields at a recording session why should
Ambrose object? And in such cases he never did.
What upset Ambrose early in 1938 wasn’t the participation of his sidemen in
traditional session work, but an incident that posed a threat to the very existence of
high-quality full-time bands…or so he believed. The incident was sparked by an
evening broadcast on the BBC National Programme by a band playing under the name
of a prominent arranger. The programme had been recorded at a day-time session and
the band just happened to include a number of Ambrose’s star soloists. Somehow their
names became known to a show business correspondent who included them in a
review of the broadcast in a national newspaper. Ambrose decided that in order to
protect his interests some kind of curb would have to put on certain types of session
work. Unfortunately, this proved to be unachievable and subsequently Ambrose
imposed a total ban on all outside work undertaken without his permission. This was
even less likely to succeed than a partial ban because there was no way it could be
enforced. All this was really a break-down in band management and something that an
effective band manager might well have smoothed over. For the present no logical
solution could be found.
There was only one casualty in Ambrose’s war against ‘moonlighting’ –
trombonist Eric Breeze. Ambrose fired him in February for infringing the new ruling.
Eric was very popular with the other musicians, so relations between the leader and his
sidemen became strained.
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Further carnage was avoided by the reappearance of Sid Phillips who after
taking charge of the day-to-day running of the band chose to ignore Ambrose’s
strictures and much of the former harmony was restored. Eric Breeze merely
transferred his talents to Jack Harris’ band…the very band that he had been
‘moonlighting’ with!
Eric Breeze wasn’t the only band member requiring a replacement as spring
approached. Guitarist Albert Harris announced his intention to leave the band in late
March, although in his case the parting of the ways was amicable. He wanted to spend
some time in America developing his jazz technique. Drummer/percussionist Jack
Simpson also left to resume freelancing. Another change involved Bert Barnes who
relinquished his performing duties but remained on the arranging team.
A general restructuring of the orchestra was initiated by Sid Phillips in the early
summer of 1938. Here’s the eventual line-up: AMBROSE & HIS ORCHESTRA
Director:
Brass:
Reeds:
Rhythm:
Strings:
Vocals:
Arrangers:
Bert Ambrose (+violin)*
Max Goldberg (trumpet)*
Archie Craig (trumpet)*
George Chisholm (trombone)
Woolf Phillips (trombone/+arranger)*
Danny Polo (alto/clarinet/baritone)*
Joe Jeanette (alto/clarinet/flute/+arranger)*
Billy Amstell (tenor/clarinet)*
Teddy White (tenor/clarinet/+arranger)
Sid Phillips (baritone/bass clarinet)**
Bert Read (piano/+arranger)*
Eddie Lisbona (piano/accordion/+arranger)
Ivor Mairants (guitar)*
Jimmy Miller (guitar/piano/+vocals)
Tiny Winters (bass)*
Jimmy Blades (timpani/xylophone/+drums)*
Ernie Lewis (violin/+deputy)*
Bill Manus (violin)*
Billy Miller (violin)
Norman Cole (violin/+vocals)
[2 violas]**
Evelyn Dall, Vera Lynn, Alan Kane, Alan Marsh
Bert Barnes, Art Strauss, Stanley Black
Personnel underlined comprised the stage show band.
*Indicates members of the band at the Café de Paris.
** Occasional additions.
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Before examining the structure of the orchestra and the thinking behind its
formation we shall briefly consider the newcomers: Archie Craig’s background before joining Ambrose remains unknown other
than that he left his native Scotland around 1936 and may have worked briefly for
bandleader Teddy Joyce. He certainly played in Soho jazz clubs and it was probably on
Tommy McQuater’s recommendation that Ambrose hired him.
George Chisholm was born in Glasgow in 1915 and started to learn the
trombone in his early ‘teens after hearing Jack Teagarden on records. On leaving
school he worked in several local dance bands including the Glasgow Playhouse
Ballroom Orchestra. In the mid-1930s he came to London and successfully auditioned
for a place in Duncan Whyte’s jazz group at the Nest Club. It was while jamming at
this venue with the likes of Fats Waller and Coleman Hawkins that George came to the
attention of Benny Carter. Apart from his duties as guest arranger for the BBC Dance
Orchestra, Benny was putting together an ad hoc group for recording purposes and a
European tour. George participated in both activities along with a number of
Ambrose’s sidemen. For the next two years he supplemented his meagre earnings in
jazz clubs by undertaking session work. When Lew Davis left the trombone section at
the end of 1937 Ambrose ordered his ‘fixer’ to: ‘Go out and get me the best jazz
trombonist available…regardless of cost’. Benny Carter, who happened to be in
Ambrose’s office at the time, overheard this and recommended George. The fact that
Eric Breeze left the brass section around the same time was just a coincidence. George
later recalled: ‘At first, Ambrose wasn’t sure what to expect and after my first solo
effort he turned to Ivor Mairants, with a very puzzled look on his face, and asked:
“Was that good?”’ Of course it was very good indeed, and George soon became a key
contributor to the revised ‘Ambrose sound’ that Sid Phillips sought to create.
Woolf Phillips had briefly played in the brass section early in 1936 after Ted
Heath’s departure but had lacked sufficient confidence to play in such a high-powered
section – despite encouragement and coaching from fellow trombonist Tony Thorpe.
Woolf later reminisced: ‘That first time with Ambrose…well I was just a kid and just
couldn’t handle the pressure. Everything went fine at rehearsals…just like being back
in Teddy Joyce’s Juvenile Band…but that first night up on the stage at the Lewisham
Hippodrome I went to pieces and just pretended to play. Ambrose soon cottoned-on to
the situation…stuffed a wad of pound notes into my top pocket, winked, and said:
“Come back and see me in a couple of years time”…which, funnily enough, I did –
almost to the day’. Two years on, Woolf had gained valuable experience with top
bands including those of Harry Roy, Joe Loss and Jack Hylton. He had also become,
under his older brother Sid’s tutelage, a highly competent arranger and when not
required for band duties assisted Sid and Bert Barnes with orchestration tasks.
Teddy White was a British-born bandleader, composer, clarinettist and sax
player who had lived and worked in Vienna until Hitler’s take-over of Austria in the
spring of 1938. He arrived in Britain completely penniless. But not friendless…he was
well known in British jazz circles and a personal friend of Sid Phillips and Danny Polo.
Ambrose snapped him up and he joined the stage show band on clarinet and also
played second tenor/clarinet in the main orchestra. He also became part of the
arranging team and over the next two years contributed several original compositions
to the band’s book. Ambrose gave him a generous advance and the band had a whipround and presented him with a new set of musical instruments, his original collection
having been used, along with all his money, to bribe his way out of Austria.
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Bert Read’s return to the Ambrosian fold came as something of a surprise when
it became known. He had, of course, spent six years with the band before leaving in
1934 to join Henry Hall’s BBC Dance Orchestra. Apart from Benny Carter’s brief
contributions in 1936 the most interesting arrangements in Hall’s repertoire were the
result of Bert’s efforts, and back with Ambrose it soon became clear his credibility as a
jazz-inspired pianist remained intact.
Eddie Lisbona had been contributing original material to Ambrose’s comedy
repertoire since 1935 and now took on the dual role of second pianist in the concert
orchestra and co-pianist/accordionist in the stage show band, as well as providing
arrangements for the full orchestra. His talents as a composer, songwriter and
orchestrator continued to be put to good use.
Ivor Mairants was a guitar player who, like Albert Harris, was a fine jazz
soloist as well as rhythm player. Greatly influenced by Eddie Lang, he got his first big
break in 1929 in Percival Mackay’s band in which he played banjo. In 1931 he
switched to a band playing at the New Princes Restaurant, and then joined Roy Fox
with whom he remained until switching to Ambrose’s band.
Jimmy and Billy Miller originally came from Aberdeen. Both had been child
prodigies, Jimmy on piano and Billy on violin. Later, Jimmy took-up the guitar, and
both learned to sing. On leaving school they turned to rhythmic music and comedy
routines and became a double act working in variety and occasionally with local dance
bands. It was while they were appearing in variety in Glasgow around 1936 that Jack
Hylton spotted them and offered them a place in his touring show. In Ambrose’s stage
show band Jimmy played piano and guitar, and both men took part in some of the
comedy routines. In the main orchestra Jimmy Miller played second guitar and his
brother became part of the augmented string section.
Jimmy Blades was a classically-trained percussionist and self-taught jazz
drummer who worked mainly in theatre orchestras before joining Ambrose. In the band
at the Café de Paris he played drums in place of Max Bacon, but otherwise played
timpani and xylophone.
Bill Manus had played in Ambrose’s string section on an ad hoc basis for a
number of years and now joined the full-time core of violinists.
Art Strauss joined the arranging team on a part-time basis. He was a Canadian
who after completing his musical studies worked as a violinist with various bands and
orchestrator for bandleader Percy Faith. He spent some time in New York and then
came to Britain in the mid-1930s to work as a composer, songwriter and freelance
musical director. His primary contribution to the ‘Ambrose sound’ of the late 1930s
was the way he scored for strings and reeds and will be discussed later. Also, he
orchestrated most of Vera Lynn’s numbers with the Ambrose band, and when she got
her own Decca recording contract in mid-1938 he often functioned as her musical
director and arranger.
Stanley Black was born in 1913 and started to learn piano at the age of seven.
At the age of eleven he won a scholarship to the Matthay School of Music where he
studied piano and composition. In 1929 he won a Melody Maker arranging competition
and subsequently freelanced as an arranger and jazz pianist. Later he worked in the
bands of Lew Stone and Harry Roy as well as recording with Louis Armstrong,
Coleman Hawkins and Benny Carter. In the mid-1930s he spent some time in South
America playing and studying Latin American music.
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The wealth of musical talent contained within the Ambrose orchestra was truly
awesome. So too was the cost – approximately £50,000 [about £2,000,000 now] over
the 1938/39 financial year. It was the need to cover this cost that now had priority, and
the means of doing so that claimed most of Ambrose’s attention from this time on.
Little wonder, then, that he was content to delegate the day-to-day running of the
orchestra to others and concentrate on the business side. We, however, can leave
Ambrose with his commercial headaches and indulge our interest in the structure of the
orchestra, the trends that influenced its formation, the nature of its output and how this
compared with that of rival outfits …all in a nutshell of course!
Firstly, it should be noted that the entire twenty-four piece line-up shown above
was only intended to come into existence on special occasions. It was what for
convenience we might call a ‘concert’ orchestra. Ambrose had put together such
orchestras before but full-time players had never formed such a large proportion as in
the current outfit. The way in which the stage show and residency bands could split
from the main orchestra without the need for any substitution was particularly neat.
However the twelve-piece band allocated to the Café de Paris was really too big for the
requirements of that establishment as its management was quick to point out. Since
taking-up the residency the previous September, Ambrose had received several
complaints that the band was playing too loud…but was now adding three players!
There were, of course, consequences and these will be considered later.
The line-up of the stage show band was somewhat unusual but of course it
functioned mainly as a backing unit for the vocalists and comedy routines and so was
obliged to play ‘hot’, ‘sweet’ and ‘funny’ in equal measure. Given that there was no
bass and that Max Bacon had to leave the drum stool to take part in the comedy
routines the primary rhythm function must at times have devolved onto pianists Eddie
Lisbona and Jimmy Miller. In the concert orchestra they functioned as second pianist
and second guitarist respectively, although as in the stage show band, Eddie Lisbona
made occasional contributions on accordion.
Apart from the concert, venue, and stage show outfits detailed above Ambrose
also intended to form two special units - the Ambrose Octet and the Ambrose Swing
Band. Both would comprise top jazz soloists from within the ranks of the main
orchestra and the same four-piece rhythm section. These two groups were intended
mainly for broadcasting and recording purposes (although live appearances were not
ruled out) and their purpose was to present jazz and swing music in a more
adventurous way than was commercially possible with the regular Ambrose orchestra.
But that’s not all – and here it gets a bit complicated! Both units would be organised
and led by Sid Phillips and, moreover, double as recording and broadcasting
outfits…under his own name. It was a neat solution to several problems, logically
sound, but due to circumstances beyond anyone’s control only partially successful. The
problems that arose due to the existence of these two special groups will become
apparent later, but because they did function after a fashion a consideration of ‘things
as they might have been’ seems permissible. The notion, prevalent in some historical
accounts, that Ambrose intentionally inhibited the progress of jazz in pre-war Britain
can’t really be justified given his (and Sid Phillips’) initiatives in the summer of 1938.
And there is just about sufficient recorded evidence to prove the point.
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The prototypes for the two dual-purpose bands that Ambrose/Phillips intended
to bring into occasional use were the Bob Cats (an off-shoot of the Bob Crosby band)
and the Jimmie Lunceford band. Although stylistically different, both outfits had
certain rhythmic characteristics in common and for this reason the choice in each case
was not unconnected. There is also a great deal of significance in the fact that Sid
Phillips was aware of both outfits during his American trip. Sid’s fascination with the
Bob Cats was certainly significant, and also his admiration for Jimmie Lunceford.
James Lunceford was born into a middle class African-American family in
1902. He grew-up in Cleveland, Ohio where his father was an organist and
choirmaster. While still a child he learned to play piano and violin and after completing
his elementary education was sent to a high school in Denver, Colorado. While there,
he added trombone, guitar, flute, clarinet, and alto sax to the list of instruments on
which he was proficient. Apart from playing in the high school orchestra, Jimmie
worked in his spare time for a local dance orchestra. With the encouragement of
Wilber Whiteman (Paul’s father and music advisor to the Denver School Board)
Jimmie, after graduating from high school, studied theory and orchestration at City
College, New York. By this time, the mid-1920s, he had mastered the entire sax family
and was able to supplement his income by playing in various jazz bands. Subsequently,
he won a music scholarship to Fisk University, Nashville from which he graduated in
1927. His first full-time job was teaching music in a Memphis high school where he
formed a student jazz band that played local gigs and showed sufficient promise for
Jimmie to contemplate launching it as a full-time outfit. This came to fruition when
three ex-Fisk students – all music graduates – went into partnership with Jimmy,
namely - Willie Smith (reeds), Edwin Wilcox (piano) and Henry Wells (trombone).
For the first few years this co-operative band was called the Chickasaw Syncopators.
After a successful series of radio broadcasts in Memphis the band went out on
the road. By the early 1930s it was doing quite well although by this time complete
control had been handed-over to Jimmie. In 1933 he brought the band to New York
having secured an engagement at the Lafayette Theatre where it was an instant success.
Recording and broadcasting contracts followed and New York became the base for
what was now called the Jimmie Lunceford Orchestra. In 1934 Irving Mills became the
band’s manager and put it into the Cotton Club. The same year an African-American
trumpeter by the name of Sy Oliver joined the band and he soon became its principal
arranger. Sy Oliver was absolutely right for this kind of band, being himself a music
graduate who, in between playing in Alphonso Trent’s touring band, taught
composition and orchestration at Ohio State University. It won’t be necessary to
outline his consummate arranging skills or the excellence of the Lunceford band – the
evidence is there a ‘plenty in the form of currently available recordings.
Sid was struck by the fact that the ‘Lunceford sound’ was based on a two-beat
medium tempo swing that was ideal for both large and small bands. No surprise then
that the ‘big band’ element in Ambrose’s reformed orchestra in the summer of 1938
had exactly the same configuration as the Lunceford band – three trumpets, three
trombones, five saxophones, and standard rhythm.
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Towards the end of Sid Phillips’ stay in America there occurred one of those
events in the history of popular music that has to be labelled ‘highly significant’. This
was the concert held at Carnegie Hall in mid-January 1938 in which Benny Goodman’s
orchestra teamed-up with leading jazz performers from outside the orchestra to present
a programme of music that encapsulated the very essence of jazz and swing. It was
past, present and future rolled into one. Apart from Goodman’s pivotal role on clarinet
major contributions were made by his own star soloists, including Harry James
(trumpet) Gene Krupa (drums), Lionel Hampton (vibes) and Teddy Wilson (piano).
Guest performers included Bobby Hackett (trumpet), Ellington’s sax men Johnny
Hodges and Harry Carney, Count Basie’s sax player Lester Young and the Count
himself on piano. Apart from proving that the presentation of an authentic form of jazz
could fill a major venue, and was therefore a commercial proposition, this concert also
consolidated Goodman’s anti-segregationist stance – at least so far as performers were
concerned. In both respects it was a big step in the right direction. Whether this was
sufficient to justify Goodman’s ‘King of Swing’ tag is debatable, but there is no doubt
that from this time on big band and small group jazz came to be recognised as distinct
art forms, rather than mere variations in popular dance music. Essentially, Benny
Goodman, Duke Ellington, Count Basie and others capitalised on the possibilities that
this presented, but on the whole commercial considerations demanded a degree of
compromise, and most of the major (mostly white) bands that dominated the Swing
Era were still obliged to base much of their output on the pop music of the day.
Shortly after returning to Britain in early February 1938 Sid Phillips outlined
his American experiences in the Melody Maker. This is what he had to say about the
band that his arranging talents were so closely associated with: ‘Everywhere I went
people said how much they thought about the Ambrose Orchestra…many musicians
rated it as tops…Bobby Hackett told me he had worn-out five records of Streamline
Strut…Hal Kemp admitted that he transcribed many of Ambrose’s recordings note-fornote… Paul Whiteman asked whether I could persuade Ambrose to send-over a
number of arrangements to use on his radio shows’. Sid also told Leonard Feather that
a number of radio stations in the New York area had half-hour programmes comprising
selections from Ambrose’s recorded output, and that record show presenters (later
called ‘disc jockeys’) on local radio frequently played Ambrose titles. Neither did it
escape Sid’s attention that Ambrose enjoyed considerable success on the jukebox
circuit (by the late 1930s there were around a quarter of a million jukeboxes operating
throughout the United States, requiring a staggering thirteen million records each year.)
While Sid Phillips worked on the reconstruction of the orchestra in May 1938,
Ambrose took four weeks vacation, leaving Ernie Lewis to front the band at the Café
de Paris. By this time Ambrose’s studio-based Saturday afternoon BBC shows had
come to an end. Sunday (occasionally Friday) broadcasts continued on Radio
Luxembourg, but these were, of course, pre-recorded. Although Ambrose was
supposedly on a golfing holiday somewhere in France, he actually made his way to
America via a French port. The purpose of this trip is not known but may well have
been entirely for pleasure, or partly for business. The reason for subterfuge (if there
actually was any) may have been to avoid speculation that he might relocate his career
in America due to the worsening international situation. In fact this was to be
Ambrose’s last visit to the United States until after the war.
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On his return to Britain at the end of May, Ambrose faced a particularly heavy
summer schedule. Weekly late-night broadcasts from the Café de Paris commenced in
early June and this coincided with the launch of another stage show tour. The regular
vocalist at the Café de Paris was still Alan Kane. Evelyn Dall had been appearing there
nightly since early April but now had to switch to the stage show. Former Duke
Ellington vocalist Adelaide Hall, who had settled in Britain and was currently
appearing in cabaret at the Florida Club, temporarily replaced Evelyn as featured
vocalist.
One special event that would normally have passed with little or no publicity
was the Royal Derby Ball that took place at Buckingham Palace in early June. Since
providing the music for the Coronation Ball in May 1937, Ambrose had presided over
a number of similar events in the ornate palace ballroom and was now firmly
established as a Royal favourite. Like other purveyors of fine commodities to the
Royal Household, Ambrose benefited only indirectly because such services were by
tradition rendered gratis. However, the indirect benefits were significant in Ambrose’s
case because the Royal connection enabled him to charge premium rates for other High
Society gigs.
Ambrose’s band was the first danceband to play at the palace. Prior to this
military bands had been used, and this particular change was just one of many
indicating that some long-established cobwebs were being swept away in Royal
circles. Moreover, it wouldn’t have gone unnoticed in certain quarters that the band in
question had a significant Jewish contingent – a not insignificant ‘coded message’
around this time. Other messages also needed to be put into code in the summer of
1938. Given the worsening international situation Anglo-American relations were now
of paramount importance. Anything that might improve them was worth a try. Even a
seemingly trivial incident might indicate something that couldn’t be expressed directly
– Royal acceptance of natural American exuberance (some would say vulgarity) within
the hallowed walls of Buckingham Palace. The ‘stage manager’ of the proposed
incident was Prince George, Duke of Kent - chief confidant of the King and Queen.
The Duke, along with his other brother Edward (now Duke of Windsor), had been a
denizen of the Embassy Club and also like Edward had participated in the after-hours
jam sessions that Ambrose regularly organised for a bevy of Royal would-be jazz
musicians. (Actually, the Duke of Kent was a talented jazz pianist – or so Ambrose
maintained.) Although George had long since given-up the dedicated debauchery that,
unknown to the public-at-large, once dominated his life, he retained an interest in jazz
in general and the Ambrose band in particular. And he was particularly intrigued by
Evelyn Dall – both as a person and a performer. Now the notion that a vocalist might
perform at a Royal ball was not just radical it was completely unprecedented. However
that’s precisely what George did suggest to Ambrose, and of course a Royal suggestion
was equivalent to a Royal command. Ambrose fussed and fretted but had to take
Evelyn along, hoping no doubt that he would not have to put her on the stand and
cause offence to those with the power to wreck the society side of his business. Evelyn,
however, had other ideas – and so too did the Duke of Kent. At some stage in the
proceedings he came over to the bandstand and insisted that it was time for Evelyn to
do her number. Ambrose reluctantly agreed and as he counted-in the band the King and
Queen took to the dance floor – the very thing that Ambrose had dreaded. He, of
course, had no idea that everything was going according to plan!
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When Evelyn Dall bounced onto the bandstand in a blue backless gown with
silver sequins and launched into the chorus of Nice Work If You Can Get It the effect
was electrifying. To her it was no different than if she were on stage at the Holborn
Empire – what you saw and heard was what you got…like it or lump it! Many didn’t
like it, and when she finished singing and the band stopped playing there was deadly
silence throughout the ballroom (Ambrose later confessed that it felt as though the
bandstand floor was opening up). Then, suddenly, the King and Queen broke into grins
and started to applaud…followed, of course, by everyone else! Even so, the incident
troubled some of the guests at that summer ball, including a young debutant attending
her first royal event. On reaching home she confided to her diary: Tonight I witnessed
a most vulgar spectacle…and at the Palace of all places! Ambrose, the orchestra
leader, brought along a singer…an American girl called Evelyn Dall whose thick
Bowery accent reverberated around the gilded ballroom with an intensity that was
positively stomach-churning. Even greater shock might have been expressed had she
seen the next-day’s editions of American newspapers, carrying headlines like:
AMERICAN CROONER WOWS REVELLERS AT BRIT KING’S KNEES-UP.
Those in-the-know could congratulate themselves – the mission had been successfully
accomplished! Not long after this more diplomatic methods of courting American
public opinion came into operation, but it’s doubtful whether they were as effective.
One spin-off from this incident was that society hostesses started to insist that the
bands they hired include a vocalist – one more bastion of instrumental-only dance
music had been breached.
A few days after the palace ballroom incident Ambrose made his way to a
rather dingy public hall just off Tottenham Court Road where he addressed fellow
members of the London Branch of the Musicians Union (MU). The problem of session
musicians had resurfaced and a split in MU opinion needed to be ironed-out. A number
of ‘first-call’ session musicians had formed a ginger group to represent their interests, a
move that was unpopular with less talented musicians who relied on session work to
supplement meagre regular earnings or provide an income when not in regular
employment. What had started-off as a specific problem between Ambrose and some
of his sidemen had now become generalised. And it wasn’t only within the MU that
ructions had occurred. A row broke out between bandleaders over how to handle the
matter and this resulted in Ambrose’s resignation from the Dance Band Directors’
Association (DBDA), an organisation that he had helped to found some years earlier. It
was all getting rather messy, and because other pressure groups representing employers
of bandleaders and/or musicians were becoming involved it seemed essential to find
some resolution to this particular problem. But none was found, so whatever proposals
Ambrose outlined on that sultry Saturday afternoon in June appears to have come to
nothing. Eventually, extraordinary war-time conditions put the matter to rest.
The stage show, now under the direction of Sid Phillips, resumed in early June
but apart from one week at the Liverpool Empire was confined to cine-variety in the
London area. The contrasting vocal styles of Evelyn Dall and Vera Lynn that had been
a noted feature of Ambrose’s BBC winter broadcasts proved to be equally popular on
stage and the vocal contributions of newcomers Jimmy Miller and Norman Cole also
got good reviews. Sid was particularly pleased with the eight-piece band that supported
the show. Teddy White, an experienced bandleader, assumed control of this unit for the
duration of the tour and Evelyn Dall acted as compère.
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On returning to London the show had to be cut from forty to thirty minutes,
one of the comedy routines being scrapped. The return of the stage show to London
coincided with the West End opening of Ambrose’s latest film ‘KICKING THE MOON
AROUND’. This opened at the Plaza cinema on the 10th of June. Trade screenings in
March received good notices from press representatives, and this gave an added boost
to the usual pre-opening publicity. Although Ambrose headed the cast list this reflected
his celebrity status rather than acting ability, or the significance of the part he played.
Of course Evelyn Dall’s acting credentials were by this time well known, and the
comic abilities of the other two band members with supporting roles – Max Bacon and
Leslie Carew – would have been familiar, at least to British audiences. Not to
American movie-goers though, hence the inclusion of Harry Richman and a number of
other Americans to widen the film’s appeal.
Another film that indirectly featured Ambrose and his band also originated
around the same time – ‘PHILIPS BROADCAST OF 1938’. This was a short film
sponsored by the Dutch-based multinational company mentioned in the title and was
an early example of puppet-based animation. This colour cartoon film was made by
George Pal who developed his ‘Puppetoons’ process in Europe while working as a film
studio animator. This cartoon (fortunately preserved) is quite remarkable, even by
much later standards and when shown in America led to George Pal being offered a
contract by Paramount. In Hollywood, he made over forty Puppetoons up to 1947, and
then became a highly acclaimed special effects consultant and director of featurelength films. The 1938 one-reeler has two main puppetized scenes – Ambrose with
orchestra and Sam Browne performing Harbour Lights …and a Harlem night club
interior with a dancing couple and (voice only) Evelyn Dall singing Rhythm’s O.K. In
Harlem.
The late spring of 1938 also heralded the end of regular broadcasts by the
Ambrose band on Radio Luxembourg, almost exactly two years after their
inauguration. These Sunday teatime shows had been extremely popular with listeners
in Britain, and had also attracted a Continental audience of significant proportions.
Here’s a typical programme from spring 1938:
Most Gentlemen Don’t Like Love…Evelyn Dall.
Jumpin’ At The Woodside…Instrumental.
Please Be Kind…Vera Lynn.
The Lady Is A Tramp…Alan Marsh.
In The Still Of The Night…Instrumental.
Flat Foot Floogie…Max Bacon/Evelyn Dall.
Why Ambrose severed his links with Radio Luxembourg at this time isn’t
known, but probably for the same reason as with Decca – an insufficiently lucrative
contract renewal. Possibly Ambrose felt he could do better by making one-off and/or
short series programmes for other commercial stations because over the subsequent
twelve months that’s exactly what happened. Indeed, not long after the Luxembourg
shows ended he recorded a short series of broadcasts for Continental transmissions
with the popular tenor Richard Tauber - and later, matinée idol Jack Buchanan.
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In mid-June Ambrose gave the management of the Café de Paris one months
notice and the last late-night broadcast under his name was transmitted on 15th July.
For the last week of this engagement a largely substitute band operated under Ernie
Lewis because Ambrose and most of the regular orchestra were in Scotland. As far
back as February it had been announced that Ambrose & His Orchestra would open a
new ballroom/concert hall complex in May. This was to be part of the great Empire
Exhibition that would open in Glasgow’s Bella Houston Park at the same time. The
exhibition did start on the appointed date, but the ballroom/concert hall wasn’t ready so
Ambrose’s engagement had to be postponed until the second week in July. The oneweek engagement required the band to give two performances a day in the concert hall
and provide music for dancing every evening in the ballroom. By this time the
restructuring of the orchestra had been completed (although the orchestration team had
certainly not finished the enormous task of reorganising/up-dating the dozens of
arrangements that the new orchestra and its off-shoot outfits would require to function
effectively). Evelyn Dall and Vera Lynn provided the vocals, both for the day-time
concerts and evening dances. Regrettably, no play-lists or programmes for the week in
Scotland have come to light, but it was reported in the Scottish press that the evening
dances were reasonably well patronised but the afternoon concerts were not.
The band returned to London with only two weeks to go before a ten-day tour
of Holland and Belgium was due to commence. In the meantime only one engagement
encroached on the band’s rehearsal schedule – a special recording session at Decca.
This was to provide orchestral backing for visiting American comedian Eddie Cantor,
who was under contract to Decca/US. Only two titles were recorded, one of which –
The Lambeth Walk – includes a brief example of what passed for ‘rap’ in the 1930s.
Did Ambrose’s participation in this recording session signal his return to regular
recording for Decca/UK? Yes…but not in the immediate future, so we can leave the
details until later.
A day or so after the recording session Ambrose received a telephone call from
Benny Goodman, who had slipped into Britain without publicity the day before and
was now at a loose-end. Perhaps they could meet-up? Ambrose suggested a private
cocktail party at the Dorchester Hotel that evening…just a few old friends. Benny
agreed and rang-off, but not long after phoning Ambrose he was warned by the
manager of his hotel that newspaper reporters were congregating in the lobby and
requesting interviews and pictures. Apparently there would be no peace and quiet in
Britain…he had underestimated his celebrity status. Goodman decided to stay holed-up
in his room, phoned Ambrose to cancel the engagement, and then made arrangements
to leave for France the following day. However, before he left Benny did manage to
join Ambrose, Evelyn Dall and Danny Polo for morning coffee at Ambrose’s Mayfair
office.
Apart from the professional interests they had in common, Ambrose and Benny
Goodman shared a passion for golf. They had played together in America occasionally
since the late 1920s, but so far as is known their paths were never to cross again after
the brief encounter in the summer of 1938. Benny never expressed any public opinions
about Ambrose’s musical endeavours and at this time was very much under the
influence of John Hammond, and it was Hammond’s British friend Leonard Feather
who acted as ‘chaperone’ during Benny’s short visit, and who whisked him away to the
Continent. Later it was revealed that Benny was on the verge of a nervous breakdown.
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The band that left for the Low Countries on 27th July comprised six brass, five
reeds and five in the rhythm section and was styled ‘BERT AMBROSE & HIS SWING
BAND’ for some, if not all, performances. Once again, Evelyn Dall and Vera Lynn
were the only regular vocalists. An early engagement was a broadcast on Radio Avre
on the Friday evening, and after this the band toured towns and cities in Belgium and
Holland, generally doing three shows a day. Further broadcasts did take place, but no
details are available. In Holland some titles were cut at Decca’s studio with a Dutch
vocalist but again no information about these has come to light. The tour was largely
successful although Ambrose somewhat unprofessionally refused to play a number of
venues because of low turn-out.
Ambrose’s irritation might well have been exacerbated by the same thing that
probably kept people away from some concerts – the exceptionally hot and sultry
weather that gripped Northern Europe that particular summer. When the tour ended in
early August the band returned to London, and a surprise that Ambrose had secretly
arranged some weeks earlier. A couple of days after arriving back Ambrose took the
entire band to the Palladium to see Fats Waller who was just starting a British tour, and
later Ambrose gave a party at which Fats was guest of honour. At the end of the same
week band members broke-up for two weeks vacation.
No doubt Ambrose would have loved to get away from it all as well, but there
was too much business to take care of. The first thing on the agenda was to act on Sid
Phillips’ suggestion that the band needed a top-ranking male vocalist. Alan Kane didn’t
fit the bill so far as Ambrose was concerned and had been given the push when the
Café de Paris engagement ended. Sam Browne was always Ambrose’s preferred
choice, but was unlikely to return in the near future due to the continuing success of his
variety act. One name that did crop-up in late July was Denny Dennis and Ambrose
asked Sid Phillips to follow this up. Denny Dennis was one of the top male vocalists in
Britain in the late 1930s - in the same league as Sam Browne and Al Bowlly. Also, like
them, he had found favour with American record buyers by virtue of his work for
bandleader Roy Fox, some of whose recorded output was released in the United States.
Denny had first come to prominence with the Fox band, a superb silky-smooth
swinging outfit. Like Vera Lynn, Denny had his own recording contract with
Decca/UK and occasionally performed solo on radio. Clearly, then, after six years with
Roy Fox he was more of a featured singer than a mere band vocalist, but for a variety
of reasons wasn’t yet prepared to go-it-alone. After discussions with Sid Phillips,
Denny agreed to join Ambrose’s vocal team and a one-year contract was signed in
August.
The replacement of Danny Polo caused Ambrose an even bigger headache. In
Ambrose’s eyes he was, like Sam Browne, irreplaceable. Danny had warned Ambrose
earlier in the year that he intended to resume his career in the United States – it was
only a question of ‘when’ not ‘if’. However, during the Ambrose band’s stint in
Holland an opportunity to work in Europe arose and Danny decided to take this up.
While he remained in Europe there was always the possibility that he might return to
the Ambrose band (as indeed he almost did), but meanwhile Ambrose was obliged to
find a new leader for the reeds section. So far as Ambrose was concerned only two
names interested him – Freddy Gardner and Joe Crossman. Both men were regarded in
jazz circles as the best alto soloists in Britain at the time. Moreover, both were
experienced section leaders, competent on a range of saxophones…and excellent
clarinettists.
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Oddly enough Freddy Gardner had only recently left Roy Fox to join Bert
Firman’s band and was too much of a gentleman to leave so soon after arriving. Joe
Crossman had no such qualms even though he also had only been with his current band
(Lew Stone’s) for a few weeks. With Joe Crossman’s reappearance the jig-saw was
complete and Ambrose could get down to planning the work schedule that would come
into operation in September. This was one task that could not be delegated, and with
huge costs to be covered simply had to be got right. There were plenty of opportunities,
the problem hinged around which ones would give the best return. Ambrose and Joe
Crossman clearly had something in common!
Ambrose’s schemes had been finalised by the time the band reassembled at the
end of August. Throughout September the full orchestra was to tour provincial variety
theatres with a number of dances and concerts thrown in for good measure. On
returning to London in October the variety shows would continue together with a series
of one-hour Saturday afternoon broadcasts, a number of recording sessions for
Decca/UK and a television spectacular. The tour would then alternate between
provincial locations and the London area, starting in Dublin in early November.
Recording sessions would coincide with the London variety dates and broadcasts
transmitted while the band was away from London were to be pre-recorded. In late
December the band would take part in a gala dance at the Royal Albert Hall and it was
expected that there would be a special broadcast show on Christmas Day. These plans
were outlined to members of the orchestra at a band meeting that Ambrose held in his
Mayfair apartment at the end of August. Most of the first week back was spent in
rehearsal but there were also a number of try-out concerts in Southampton and a big
ballroom gig in Southsea.
The tour proper started on Monday 5th September in Birmingham. Here’s a
typical programme: Mamma I Wanna Make Rhythm…Evelyn Dall.
Ah Sweet Mystery Of Life…Instrumental.
Little Lady Make Believe…Vera Lynn.
Dear Old Southland…Denny Dennis.
Lullaby In Rhythm…Jimmy Miller (vocal)/Teddy White (clarinet).
I Played Fiddle For The Czar…Max Bacon/Les Carew/Evelyn Dall.
Sweet As A Song…Vera Lynn/Denny Dennis/Eddie Lisbona (accordion).
Jumpin’ At The Woodside…Instrumental.
Tribute To George Gershwin…Bert Read (piano).
The Darktown Strutters’ Ball…Instrumental.
Says My Heart…Evelyn Dall.
If Ambrose had any doubts about the kind of reception he would receive on this
tour following the summer disappointments in Scotland and Holland, the opening night
at the Birmingham Hippodrome would have dispelled them. The show was a huge
success and the next day’s newspapers carried reports with phrases like: - Tumultuous
applause…eight curtain calls…a rousing, roaring reception…spine-tingling
performances…fabulous visual effects…stunning gowns…and so on. Also, it didn’t go
without notice that one performance actually ‘stopped the show’…Vera Lynn’s
rendition of Little Lady Make Believe.
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Another reviewer commented on Ambrose’s vastly improved ‘stage presence’
compared with previous appearances: ‘This time he actually came-over as a human
being rather than a gesturing automaton’. The provincial part of the tour continued
with one-week engagements in Glasgow, Manchester and Leeds. Apart from the
evening stage shows, week-end concerts were held and dancehall engagements
sometimes interspersed with variety appearances. Leslie Carew later recalled: ‘There
would usually be a concert on the Saturday afternoon, or a tea dance, and on Sunday
we would stop at a couple of towns on the way to the next week’s engagement and do
afternoon and evening shows. Also, some week-day evenings we would share an
evening dance date with another band, dashing back and forth between houses at the
variety theatre…With Ambrose you were obliged to work your socks off, but it was
great and I wouldn’t have missed it for the world’.
When the band returned to London at the end of September there was no let-up
in the gruelling schedule, indeed more had to be fitted-in because Ambrose was about
to resume regular broadcasts, and recording sessions at Decca. For the first week of
October the band played at the Stratford Empire, then Finsbury Park, New Cross,
Brixton and Lewisham, at weekly intervals.
Ambrose returned to the airwaves on Saturday October 8th with the prime-time
5-6pm slot on the National Programme. Here’s the play-list: Killer-Diller…Instrumental (arr. Barnes)
Love Walked In…Denny Dennis
A-Tisket A-Tasket…Evelyn Dall
Plain Jane…Instrumental (comp. Phillips)
I Never Knew…Bert Read – piano solo
Little Lady Make Believe…Vera Lynn
Music Maestro Please…Denny Dennis
Yancy Special…Instrumental (arr. Lisbona)
Cinderella Sweetheart…Vera Lynn
Voo Doo…Instrumental (comp. Phillips)
Goodbye To Summer…Denny Dennis
Ah! Sweet Mystery Of Life…Instrumental (arr. Phillips)
I’m Gonna Lock My Heart…Evelyn Dall
Cotton Pickers’ Congregation…Instrumental. (comp. Phillips)
Sweet As a Song…Vera Lynn/Denny Dennis.
Hors D’Oeuvres…Instrumental (arr. Phillips)
Take A Course In Rhythm…Evelyn Dall.
The orchestra that Ambrose took into the BBC’s Maida Vale Studio for this
series of broadcasts had a line-up of seventeen (excluding vocalists). The BBC was
now the principal outlet for Ambrose’s instrumentals given the necessary
predominance of vocals and comedy items in the stage shows. Apart from original
compositions emanating from members of the arranging team like Sid Phillips, Eddie
Lisbona, Teddy White and Art Strauss, the band also played cover versions of current
American swing numbers, including: - Sing Sing Sing, Christopher Columbus, Bach
Goes To Town, and Smoke House Rhythm. It seems that at least part of Ambrose’s
bandwagon was moving in the direction sign-posted Swing Era – unfortunately the
recorded, as opposed to anecdotal, evidence is virtually non-existent so far as covers of
American big-band classics are concerned.
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Ambrose concluded the best deal he could with Decca/UK in early September.
Financially, he had got most of what he wanted, including a substantial advance
against future royalties. In return he would be obliged to remain firmly rooted in the
pop music sector, although instrumentals were not entirely discouraged. In Decca’s
newly established Swing Series there would be no place for the Ambrose Octet
however star-studded. Decca already had access to Bob Crosby’s and Jimmy Dorsey’s
recorded output as well as that of the Quintet of the Hot Club of France and a cracking
small British band led by Nat Gonella. So far as Decca was concerned Ambrose must
take his place alongside Lew Stone, Charlie Kunz, Maurice Winnick and Josephine
Bradley on the ‘Blue & Gold’ label and make the best he could of Tin Pan Alley’s
output. The first recording session was in mid-October and it took only two weeks for
Decca/UK to release the four titles cut at that session.
It’s difficult to say what kind of dent in Decca/UK’s income resulted from
Ambrose’s one-year absence. During this time sales of the 175 Ambrose records
already in the catalogue remained buoyant and some previously unreleased titles were
issued. Despite having little new coming on-stream Ambrose remained Decca/UK’s
biggest attraction. The record that Ambrose made with Eddie Cantor in July was
released in September and proclaimed by Decca/UK to be - THE RECORD OF THE
YEAR. Oddly enough, its release coincided with the Munich Crisis and Neville
Chamberlain’s famous (later notorious) ‘peace in our time’ speech. Eddie Cantor’s
rendition of The Lambeth Walk was regarded in some quarters as support for
‘appeasement’ and American isolationism. Not due to the words of the original song
but rather the ‘rap’ bit that someone added in Cantor’s version. Another example of a
coded message…or not as the case may be! Another incident along the same lines
illustrates how jittery people were becoming as times got ever more dangerous. On one
of Ambrose’s radio shows Vera Lynn sang a song entitled: They Gave Him A Gun To
Play With. This also was regarded by some as an anti-war song and either condemned
or applauded according to respective points of view. Such songs are soon forgotten, but
the Munich Crisis left its mark. Vera Lynn later recalled: ‘I was rehearsing with
Ambrose when the news came through and we all stopped work and gathered round
someone’s portable radio…It was one of those things that stays with you forever
whatever else you forget’.
The two-month variety tour finished towards the end of October with a oneweek show in Dublin. On the 27th October Ambrose, Evelyn Dall, Vera Lynn, Denny
Dennis and the Ambrose Octet appeared in a television show that went out live from
Alexandra Palace. This was Vera’s T.V. debut, although Ambrose and Evelyn Dall had
paved the way two years earlier. Indeed, Evelyn Dall was probably the most televised
variety performer on British television, having co-starred in a show that went out
monthly throughout most of 1938. Of course the audience for television in Britain in
1938 was small, restricted as it was to the Home Counties, but few doubted that
television was destined to become a major branch of the entertainment industry.
It was also towards the end of October that twenty-two year old band manager
Les Brannelly handed-in his notice. He was off to join his brother-in-law Joe Brannelly
who earlier in the year had set-up his own band promotion/public relations business.
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In early November the BBC Director of Dance Music, Phillip Brown, droppedin on Ambrose during a Saturday evening broadcast. This was the last programme of
the series and Ambrose had requested a continuation, with the proviso that some future
programmes be recorded to enable the provincial tour to be resumed. Ambrose had
also asked for confirmation that his proposals for a one-hour radio show on Christmas
Day had been accepted. Brown informed him that there would be no continuation and
no Christmas broadcast – Ambrose had been axed! According to Brown, he was ‘too
expensive for the BBC’. All this became something of a cause célèbre in the national
and trade press in the run-up to Christmas and no rational explanation, other than the
somewhat suspect one given, ever surfaced. And for Ambrose there was worse to
come!
Ambrose never expected to make any profit from BBC broadcasts, which is
just as well because he never did! Indeed, it was usually a case of him subsidising the
BBC…but only because the kind of broadcasts he wanted to transmit exceeded the
requirements of the BBC. This was the tragedy of Ambrose’s broadcasting career – he
had great difficulty in persuading the BBC that what he had to offer deserved to be
treated as something other than unadulterated dance music. And for such fare the BBC
paid rates governed by agreements negotiated with the Dance Band Directors
Association (DBDA) and the Musicians Union (MU). For studio-based broadcasts
Ambrose received three guineas per band member per hour, plus 33⅓%. For
Ambrose’s outfit this came to around £80 [about £3,200 now] per broadcast. By
today’s standards this doesn’t seem excessive for a prime-time radio show, but if the
BBC weren’t particularly concerned about what went out at tea-time on Saturday then
Ambrose’s programme may have seemed excessively lavish.
Problems with the BBC in the autumn of 1938 were dwarfed by a general
financial crisis that hit Ambrose four-square at the same time. Half-way through the
38/39 financial year it became clear that so far as Ambrose Orchestras Ltd (AOL) was
concerned insufficient money was coming in to cover outgoings. Ambrose had set-up
AOL in the late 1920s in order to protect his personal wealth in the event of the main
orchestra and/or other bands that he controlled going-under. AOL was in the band
supply business (subsidiary activities like artist management were minor in
comparison). In theory, all the musicians, vocalists, arrangers, etc. that Ambrose used
actually worked for, and were paid by, AOL. Provided AOL had enough money
available there was no problem…it was just like any other business with a weekly
wage bill. The personnel connected with Ambrose’s main activities (broadcasting,
recording, stage shows) – plus some auxiliary staff – numbered thirty. The average
weekly wage was £33, giving a weekly wage bill of £1000. Because Ambrose was in
effect hiring these thirty people from AOL it was up to him to ensure that sufficient
money was paid into AOL coffers to cover the wage bill (and other, relatively minor,
costs incurred such as touring transportation and accommodation). He did this by
transferring money from his own account into the AOL account, and the money in his
own account came from personal contracts or agreements. For example, Ambrose’s
recording contract was between himself and Decca. And the same thing applied to
touring contracts, broadcasting contracts, and most of the other activities involving the
thirty people mentioned above. Any weekly sum that Ambrose couldn’t personally
cover required an overdraft arrangement.
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So far, so good - but things weren’t so good in the autumn of 1938! Ambrose
was unable to transfer sufficient funds to AOL on a regular basis to cover their
outgoings. Put perhaps somewhat simplistically, the books couldn’t be balanced. Now
the audited accounts of AOL are one thing - Ambrose’s personal financial dealings
another. These were then, and remain now, unavailable for scrutiny. Some incomes are
known, like the BBC payments and the £1,200 a week he earned from variety tours.
But such things as royalties from record sales (a major source of income for Ambrose)
have never been revealed. But even if they were it would shed little light on Ambrose’s
true financial situation. It seems likely that Ambrose spent his entire adult life living on
the margin – i.e. he was always in a state of personal financial deficit. Given his
potential earnings it would have been easy to obtain credit, loans and overdrafts on a
rolling basis, at least in normal times. But in the late 1930s times were becoming
abnormal and uncertain. And apart from an ultra-lavish lifestyle Ambrose was, by his
own (later) admission, losing money due to his gambling addiction at an average of
£100,000 a year [about £4million now] throughout the 1930s.
In late November Ambrose was obliged to partially disband. Although the
broadcasts had finished there was still a full schedule of recording sessions booked for
Decca and plenty of opportunities for variety dates, at least for a reduced company.
The stage show continued to tour with Evelyn Dall, Vera Lynn and Denny Dennis
providing the main vocal content and Max Bacon, Les Carew and Jimmy Miller the
comedy routines. The band that accompanied the stage show had the following line-up:
Teddy White (clarinet/+leader)
Archie Craig (trumpet)
Les Carew (trombone/+vocals)
Eddie Lisbona (piano/accordion)
Jimmy Miller (piano/guitar/+vocals)
Max Bacon (drums)
Touring continued right up to Christmas, mostly in the London area due to the
need for some of the company to attend recording sessions. The band used for
recording purposes was now essentially an ad hoc outfit, although for a variety of
reasons many of Ambrose’s former sidemen were included. A few remained at least
nominally on the full-time payroll. For example Bert Read and Joe Jeanette were
designated staff arrangers, and Ernie Lewis functioned as Ambrose’s ‘fixer’. The rest
had either joined other bands or were working freelance. Clearly, Ambrose had no
qualms now when it came to ‘poaching’ musicians from rival bandleaders – the very
practice that he had been objecting to earlier in the year. Given all this upheaval it is a
tribute to all concerned with the recorded output at this time that the distinctive
Ambrose Sound remained essentially intact.
Ambrose’s predicament was largely hidden from public knowledge by virtue of
those activities that continued, such as the stage show. Those who were in the know –
including fellow bandleaders – probably had little sympathy, given that Ambrose was
one of the chief instigators in driving-up the earnings of star players like Joe
Crossman, who could always be ‘bought’ by the highest bidder. And waiting and
watching in the wings were those with more realistic ambitions – in particular Geraldo.
The vultures were starting to gather!
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Here are the major titles recorded by Ambrose in the autumn of 1938 almost all
of which had been released by Christmas: [Vocal by Denny Dennis…Little Lady Make Believe, Love Walked In, The Sweetest
Song In The World, Goodbye To Summer, Change Partners, Sixty Seconds Got
Together, Music Maestro Please, Music Makes The World Go Round, I’ve Got A
Pocket-full Of Dreams, Don’t Let The Moon Get Away, While A Cigarette Was
Burning, A Garden In Granada, The Umbrella Man, Blue Skies Are Round The
Corner, Cinderella Sweetheart. [Vocal by Vera Lynn…There’s Rain In My Eyes,
Cinderella Stay In My Arms, Two Sleepy People (+Denny Dennis), Heart And Soul.
[Vocal by Evelyn Dall…Joseph Joseph, Says My Heart. [Vocal by Les Carew…The
Spreading Chestnut Tree, The Lambeth Walk (+Norman Cole).
A number of the songs recorded by Denny Dennis were covered by Evelyn Dall or
Vera Lynn elsewhere. For example Vera Lynn sang Little Lady Make Believe in the
stage show and A Garden In Granada on radio. Significantly, Vera recorded both titles
under her own name, so Ambrose was allowing her to ‘plug’ her own records. Another
example is I’ve Got A Pocketful Of Dreams, which Evelyn introduced on a radio show.
In general, each of the three vocalists were allocated a particular arranger although
here again there were exceptions.
Finally for 1938 we shall take a look at those popular hit songs not listed but
which were probably featured by Ambrose: At Long Last Love, Change Partners, Chiquita Banana, Don’t Be That Way, Falling In
Love With Love, F.D.R Jones, Get Out Of Town, I Let A Song Go Out Of My Heart, I’ll
Be Seeing You, Just A Kid Named Joe, The Little Drummer Boy, Love Walked In, Most
Gentlemen Don’t Like Love, On The Bumpy Road To Love, Ol’ Man Mose, Please Be
Kind, Really The Blues, September Song, Sing For Your Supper, Small Fry, San
Antonio Rose, This Can’t Be Love, You Couldn’t Be Cuter, You Must Have Been A
Beautiful Baby, You Go To My Head.
How many of these titles would have been recorded by Ambrose had he
renewed his contract with Decca earlier in the year is impossible to say. More to the
point would those titles that we now recognise as ‘standards’ have been recorded?
Ambrose, according to several sources, had a ‘nose’ for hits – but songs that made it
big when first released didn’t always stand the test of time. Decca, like most other
record companies, made most released records available for a minimum of three years,
after which continued availability depended on sales achieving a fixed target figure. In
this respect Ambrose was particularly successful, so he must have been getting it right
whatever we might now think of some of his output. We should also remind ourselves
that Decca/UK and (to a lesser extent) Decca/US supplied an international market and
that the Ambrose band was by now well established globally.
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During the first week of January 1939 Ambrose concluded a deal with the (UK)
Paramount Organisation for a stage show tour that was intended to run almost
continuously throughout the year. Although dates in the London area were included,
much of the time would be spent touring provincial centres. The main attractions were
to be Evelyn Dall and Vera Lynn, and they would be backed by a reorganised show
band that was to be called the Ambrose Octet (even though there were nine players!).
Now wearing his ‘producers hat’ Ambrose, together with Sid Phillips and Ray Sonin,
devised a new kind of flexible show that could be geared in part to regional
susceptibilities. Also, Ambrose wanted a more integrated approach, rather than a
succession of unrelated items. It would fall to Evelyn Dall to provide the necessary
continuity, because Ambrose did not intend to participate in these shows.
The absence of Denny Dennis from the tour probably reflected Ambrose’s need
to have a top-flight vocalist available for recording sessions, which couldn’t always be
held while the road show was in London. To provide additional vocal support for the
stage show he engaged a guitarist who was also making a name for himself as a
popular vocalist – George Sandiford. Ambrose first became aware of this young
Glaswegian’s talents the previous year while listening to the popular radio programme
‘IN TOWN TONIGHT’. One item on this show was a slot introducing new talent, and
one week George was featured. Ambrose contacted him through the BBC and offered
him a job with a band he controlled at the Café Anglais, an exclusive London
nightspot. George accepted, and during late-night broadcasts popularised a song called
Penny Serenade. He later recorded this under his own name and it became a big hit.
Meanwhile he accepted Ambrose’s offer to join the stage show. George Sandiford was
a major asset and fitted-in well with the kind of show that Ambrose wanted to present.
As well as playing guitar in the band and vocalising, he was an enthusiastic participant
in comedy sketches, sometimes in tandem with Vera Lynn.
The band that supported the stage shows until the summer of 1939 had the
following line-up: THE AMBROSE OCTET
Teddy White (clarinet/+leader)
Ben Dudley (trumpet)
Les Carew (trombone/+vocals)
George Sandiford (guitar/+vocals)
Les Farrell (bass)
Max Farman (timpani/xylophone/+drums)
+ Evelyn Dall and Vera Lynn
During the second week of January rehearsals were held in London under the
direction of Sid Phillips and on Monday 16th the show opened in Glasgow and the
following week transferred to Edinburgh.
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Here’s a typical programme: Jumpin’ Jive…Evelyn Dall.
Ring Dem Bells…Instrumental.
A Garden In Granada…Vera Lynn.
Penny Serenade…George Sandiford.
The Chestnut Tree…Leslie Carew.
Highland Swing…Jimmy Miller/Evelyn Dall.
St Louis Blues…Instrumental.
Ready Steady Stop {monologue}…Max Bacon
Two Sleepy People…Vera Lynn/George Sandiford.
Swing That Thing…Evelyn Dall.
The two weeks in Scotland were a huge success and after this, with a modified
programme, the show moved to Manchester, then Bolton, and returned to the London
area at the end of February.
The use of the title ‘Ambrose Octet’ for the stage show band is the source of
some confusion because Ambrose formed another band around this time that had the
same name-tag. This was an ad hoc outfit that was supposed to present the kind of
small-group jazz that was being promoted in America by Benny Goodman, Bob
Crosby and others – the ‘band-within-a-band’ format. Special arrangements were
prepared for this unit and rehearsals were held on regular basis. However, the only
outcome was a couple of live appearances. Here’s the line-up: THE AMBROSE (JAZZ) OCTET
Joe Crossman (alto/clarinet)
Ivor Mairants (guitar)
Tiny Winters (bass)
Maurice Burman (drums)
+ Evelyn Dall and Vera Lynn
These days it’s considered rather naughty for those relating past events to
indulge in ‘what-might-have-been’ speculation. Even so, had Ambrose been able to
record the output of this snappy all-star outfit the results would surely have been
mighty interesting. The Ambrose (jazz) Octet appeared in a half-hour show on
television in February and towards the end of March performed at the ‘JAZZ
JAMBOREE’, an annual charity concert sponsored by the Musicians’ Union. Most of
the arrangements prepared for this band – a number of jazz standards and original
numbers – never got beyond the rehearsal stage, and along with much else were lost
during the war.
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The jazz octet’s personnel comprised musicians who were either working for
other bands or free-lancing, although some were also playing at Ambrose’s recording
sessions. Billy Amstell, for example, was working for Jack Harris when he attended a
session to record his own composition Tootin’ Around in February. Joe Crossman was
another example – hopping between bands led by Jack Hylton, Lew Stone and
Ambrose. And just to complicate matters further, a number of top jazz musicians
launched a co-operative venture called the Heralds of Swing. Essentially, this ten-piece
outfit was attempting to do the same thing as Ambrose with his jazz octet.
The man who launched the Heralds of Swing was Leonard Feather. In some
respects he was the British equivalent to America’s John Hammond. Although similar
to Hammond in outlook and musical and journalistic talents, Leonard Feather didn’t
share Hammond’s overbearing and abrasive approach to life, or his privileged High
Society background. As a youth he had worked for British Lion Films but in the mid1930s switched to journalism. His interest in jazz came early and he was a quick
learner. His first major influence was Spike Hughes, who supported his journalistic
ambitions and helped him to get work on the Melody Maker. By the late 1930s he had
become London correspondent for the American trade paper Metronome and he also
contributed to other American journals. Feather got on quite well with Ambrose and on
a number of occasions interviewed him for various journals. However, like many in
authentic jazz circles, Feather believed that star jazz musicians in the Ambrose band
were not being given sufficient chance to develop their talents to the full. Unlike
Hammond, he didn’t dismiss Ambrose’s jazz-inspired output as ‘utterly worthless’ but
still longed for the day when art would triumph over commercial considerations.
Feather used his growing influence to get short-term recording contracts for small jazz
groups nominally led by such Ambrosian luminaries as Danny Polo, Lew Davis, Albert
Harris and George Chisholm. The output of these groups was relatively small and sales
figures disappointing, but it represented some of the very best jazz to be recorded in
Britain before the war.
The Heralds of Swing made their début in time to take part in the
aforementioned ‘JAZZ JAMBOREE’, four of their number also being in the Ambrose
(jazz) Octet and most of the rest had previously been members of Ambrose’s main
orchestra. Guest artists at this concert included Fats Waller, Adelaide Hall, Sid
Phillips, Billy Amstell and Sam Browne. Ambrose, who was in the audience when the
Heralds performed, was suitably impressed but despite the best efforts of all concerned
the Heralds of Swing never became Britain’s first successful full-time jazz ensemble,
just as Ambrose’s jazz-inspired group came to nothing. There wasn’t sufficient support
among the British public at the time.
Ambrose, a few months later, had this to say in an interview with Leonard
Feather – ‘The British, on the whole, are musically ignorant. They don’t like good
jazz…what they want is Come Into the Garden Maud or Knees Up Mother
Brown…and when they don’t get what they want they either sulk or throw things at
you!’
The distinguished conductor Sir Thomas Beecham was equally forthright
around this time: ‘The British don’t really like music…merely the noise it makes!’ In
his case the frustration related to the difficulty in keeping the London Philharmonic
Orchestra as a functioning unit without compromising musical standards. The music
might have been very different but the problem was much the same.
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In mid-February Ambrose was invited by the BBC to return to broadcasting. It
had been decided at a high level that the continuing row over his banishment must
come to an end. The BBC was getting a bad press and the incident could no longer be
considered trivial. In two national newspapers Ambrose had come first in polls for
‘best danceband leader’ and in the widely-read magazine Radio Pictorial had been
voted RADIO’S MUSIC MAESTRO No 1. Also, the influential newspaper columnist
Collie Knox had used the incident to lambaste the BBC. Phillip Brown was ordered to
mend fences and quickly. Ambrose was now given a choice between a series of halfhour shows on a week-day evening, or four special one-hour shows on Saturday
afternoons – he opted for the latter. Apart from the broadcasts Ambrose managed to
obtain enough work to justify re-forming a full orchestra, including a big dance at the
Albert Hall in mid-March. There was also the possibility of a residency at the London
Casino, a large restaurant/ballroom/theatre complex (not a real casino). Here’s the new
line-up: AMBROSE & HIS ORCHESRA
Director:
Brass:
Reeds:
Rhythm:
Strings:
Vocals:
Arrangers:
Bert Ambrose
Archie Craig (trumpet)
Paul Fenoulhet (trombone)*
Dave Shand (alto/clarinet)
Harry Lewis (tenor/clarinet)
Sid Phillips (baritone/bass clarinet)*
E.O. Pogson (oboe/cor anglais)*
Tiny Winters (bass)
Eddie Lisbona (piano/accordion/+arranger)
Jimmy Blades (timpani/xylophone/marimba)
Ernie Lewis (violin)…[+ 3 violins/viola]*
Evelyn Dall
Vera Lynn
Max Bacon
Leslie Carew
Robert Wilson*
The Singtette (vocal group)*
Teddy White
Art Strauss
Bert Barnes
Full-time personnel shown in bold type.
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Given the virtual ‘all-star’ composition of this extravagant line-up it’s tempting
to wax lyrical about it, and if Ambrose had been able to keep such a band together as a
stable entity then his supreme position in the British big band firmament might have
remained intact. In fact six weeks was the limit, after which several key sidemen left
on band-hopping expeditions. However, during those six weeks five major broadcasts,
four recording sessions and a number of live performances took place. One factor that
made recruitment for this band somewhat easier was that coincidentally Jack Harris
was obliged to give-up his star-studded band for the same reason that had bedevilled
Ambrose earlier. Harris’ disbandment proved to be temporary because he got the
London Casino contract rather than Ambrose and subsequently mounted a successful
‘poaching’ operation that affected other bands besides Ambrose’s.
The four Saturday 5-6pm radio shows started on the National Programme in
early March. Here’s the play-list for the show on 11th March 1939: When Day Is Done [arr. Munro]…Robert Wilson/Singtette
Desert Star [comp. White]…Instrumental
The Same Old Story…Vera Lynn
The Chestnut Tree...Les Carew/Jimmy Miller/Singtette
Romany…Robert Wilson
Hold Tight …Evelyn Dall
Mexicali Rose…Denny Dennis
Early Morning Blues [comp. Phillips]…Instrumental
My Own…Vera Lynn
I Must See Annie …Max Bacon
Jeepers Creepers …Evelyn Dall
Violin In Vienna…Denny Dennis/Jean Peugeot (violin)
Burmese Ballet [comp. Phillips]…Instrumental
Grandma Said…Vera Lynn
Goodnight Ladies [arr. Lisbona]
During its brief existence as a complete entity, the band appeared on stage at a
number of London cinemas, including the Gaumont-State (Kilburn), Trocadero
(Elephant & Castle) and the Granada (Tooting). It also played for dancers at the
Empress Hall and Olympia Ballroom on at least one occasion at each venue. In midMarch the augmented orchestra played at a charity costume ball at the Royal Albert
Hall, part of which was broadcast by the BBC. There were also four recording sessions
for Decca at which a few of the swing instrumentals featured in the broadcasts were
recorded. Presumably the normally intransigent Decca recording executive reckoned
they might enjoy reasonable sales after exposure over the airwaves, but many
interesting items remained unrecorded…at least on the Decca label. Other recording
activity involving this band included a number of sessions at a private studio at which
some 16”/33⅓ rpm transcription discs were cut for use in America – possibly by local
radio stations, but no details have so far come to light.
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By mid-April several key players either left or relinquished their full-time
status, including Max Goldberg, Lew Davis, Billy Amstell, Joe Crossman, Bert Read,
Tommy McQuater and Dave Shand.
Ambrose may have been pleasing variety and radio audiences with his mixture
of pop music and big band swing but not everyone was impressed. A dedicated
ballroom dancer who attended one of the dances for which Ambrose’s big band
provided the music wrote this at the time: - Last night my wife and I staggered out of
our favourite ballroom totally bemused by the offerings of the over-sized guest
orchestra conducted by Ambrose. Screeching trumpets, crashing cymbals,
inappropriate ‘hot’ solos…a gyrating blonde belting out Jeepers Creepers, followed by
another blonde, less animated but oozing sentimentality. With all this cacophony going
on how could dancers possibly be expected to concentrate on what they had,
presumably, gone there to do – dance correctly? How indeed!
In the second week of April the stage show was out on the road again for a
(mainly) provincial variety theatre tour that would run continuously until mid-July.
This earned Ambrose £18,000 [about £720,000 now] and must have gone some way to
improving his financial situation, at least in the short-term. This was the stage show’s
touring schedule: WEEK
LOCATION
1
Coventry
2
Brighton
3
London
4
Sunderland
5
Glasgow
6
Bradford
7
Liverpool
8
Leeds
9/10
London
11
Nottingham
12
Birmingham
13
London
14
Manchester
And here’s a typical programme: Talk To Me…Evelyn Dall.
Alexander’s Ragtime Band…Instrumental.
My Own…Vera Lynn.
Romany…George Sandiford.
My Wife’s Gone And Left Me {sketch}… Max Bacon/Leslie Carew.
And The Angels Sing…Vera Lynn.
Huckleberry Duck…Jimmy Miller/Leslie Carew.
A-Tisket A-Tasket…Evelyn Dall.
Hurry Home…Vera Lynn/George Sandiford.
Rigoletto {melodrama}…Evelyn Dall/Max Bacon/Jimmy Miller.
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It was during the fifth week of the variety tour that Ambrose, who had
remained in London with the remnants of the big band, received a bombshell. Not
directly fired by the blonde of that ilk, but rather her counterpart in the stage show –
Vera Lynn. Not being under contract to AOL, Vera was merely obliged to give two
weeks notice whenever she wished to quit…and now she so wished! On receiving her
letter Ambrose dropped everything and rushed-up to Glasgow where the stage show
was appearing. Although well past the point at which he needed convincing of Vera’s
value in the scheme of things, Ambrose sat through a performance of the stage show.
Audience reaction merely confirmed that Vera Lynn was an indispensable asset. After
the show Ambrose approached Vera, begged her to stay and offered to double her
salary to £40. Although she accepted Ambrose’s offer, it hadn’t been the money side of
things that triggered her resignation but rather the resentful hostility of Evelyn Dall.
We can leave aside the details, however it is important not to gloss over the fact that
personality clashes as well as acrimonious differences of opinion over professional
matters arose among band members from time to time. It was essentially the duty of
the band manager to smooth-out ruffled feathers, but since the departure of Joe
Brannelly there hadn’t been an effective band manager.
One thing’s for sure, for members of the touring company there was no way of
avoiding relationships whether good, bad or indifferent – at least while they were in the
provinces. However, it was transportation and accommodation that dominated the lives
of touring performers, often causing more problems than anything else. Ambrose’s
personnel were better-off than many because he always ensured as much comfort as
possible. No travelling through the night crammed into private cars, and no need to
spend hours seeking-out dingy theatrical digs. For journeys over a hundred or so miles
the company travelled by train in reserved first-class compartments. Otherwise, a
motor coach would be chartered. Accommodation was usually in good private hotels or
guest houses. Heavy luggage and musical instruments were handled separately, usually
by a railway company operating a door-to-door service. Large items like props, the
band rostrum and two pianos (!) were transported by the famous cartage firm of
Pickfords who had a division specialising in the movement of theatrical freight
between theatres, with intermittent storage where necessary (they also provided a piano
tuner!).
The weekly schedule while on tour was quite intense. Apart from two evening
performances Monday through Saturday, there was usually at least one afternoon
matinee and rehearsals on Monday morning (often extending into the afternoon). Most
of Sunday had to be devoted to travel and the stars of the show (in this case the
vocalists) would be expected to support local charitable events on Saturdays, and large
music and record stores often held promotional events that required their presence.
While the stage show continued its perambulations throughout May and June
the rather confusing comings and goings of musicians associated with Ambrose’s main
orchestra were under way. Four Decca recording sessions took place in mid-June and
so too did a number of recording sessions for Continental commercial radio stations.
Sid Phillips also used musicians from the Ambrose Orchestra and Denny Dennis for
his own recording purposes, the results of which were destined for the American
market. Sid also recorded a series of programmes for Radio Eireann (the Irish station),
again using a contingent from the Ambrose band. The Heralds of Swing also spluttered
into and out of existence throughout the summer, and this affected the availability of a
number of key players.
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During the first week of July the stage show returned to London and Ambrose
put together a full orchestra for a Decca recording session and a big social event. The
Decca session was notable for being the last one before the war and also the last to
involve Denny Dennis, whose contract with Ambrose expired at the end of July.
During his one-year stint with Ambrose, Denny contributed vocals to around forty
Decca titles – and what a contribution! With Sid Phillips providing most of his
orchestrations (and directing the band during his sessions) Denny was at his very best.
Unfortunately he didn’t get on too well with Ambrose and some kind of dispute arose
in the spring of 1939 that scuppered any chance of a contract renewal. His last live
appearance with the Ambrose band was at a lavish society event at Blenheim Palace
that spanned the entire weekend following the recording session.
The Blenheim Palace ball has gone down in the annals of High Society as the
last of the no-expense-spared grand occasions before war, democratic decorum, and
draconian tax policies made such events a thing of the past. Proceedings commenced
with a banquet and dance on the Friday evening and finished with a champagne
breakfast on the Sunday morning. On the Saturday, various day-time events were
followed by a grand buffet supper and masked ball. Ambrose was hired to provide
suitable theme music throughout the entire proceedings and for this he required the
services of around fifty musicians, presumably working in shifts. A society gossip
columnist noted: ‘…after the prime minister and archbishop had left, and the dowager
duchess had retired for the night, all the young studs and their fillies began to let their
hair down…Ambrose’s band was in fine fettle and before long everyone was having a
spiffing time singing popular songs like Jeepers Creepers, Hold Tight and Roll Out The
Barrel’.
The second week of July found the stage show in Manchester, after which
everyone was granted two weeks break. The remaining members of the now inactive
full orchestra also took summer holidays at the same time, and Ambrose enjoyed a
brief respite playing golf in Scotland.
Here are some of the new titles that were recorded between January and August
1939: [Vocal by Denny Dennis…The Donkey Serenade, I Have Eyes, Deep Purple, Hurry
Home, The Masquerade Is Over, Mexicali Rose, Hear My Song, South Of The
Border, The Pretty Little Quaker Girl, A New Moon, And The Angels Sing, Wishing,
My Prayer, Sing A Song Of Sunbeams, That Sly Old Gentleman, Angels Never
Leave Heaven, If Ever A Heart Was In The Right Place, To You Sweetheart
Ahola, Riviera Stomp. [Vocal by Vera Lynn…Day Dreaming, There’s Something
About An Old Love, Grandma Said, I Shall Always Remember You Smiling, My
Own, To Mother With Love, I Promise You, Little Sir Echo (+Denny Dennis), If I
Didn’t Care, I Paid For That Lie I Told You, I Feel Like A Stranger*, Only Once
(+Denny Dennis). [Vocal by Evelyn Dall…I Got Love, Jeepers Creepers, Hold-Tight,
The Beer Barrel Polka, Ain’t Cha Coming Out. [Vocal by Max Bacon/Leslie
Carew…Did You Go Down Lambeth Way, Ferdinand The Bull. [Vocal by Webster
Booth/Sylvia Cecile…Sweethearts.
Continued…...
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[Instrumentals…Ah Sweet Mystery Of Life, Wedding Of The Sophisticated Dutch
Doll, A Burmese Ballet, Early Morning Blues, Hullabaloo, Plain Jane, Man About
Town [Decca/US], The Penguin, War Dance Of The Wooden Indians, Blue
Romance, Tootin’ Around*, Mr Reynard’s Nightmare*, Voodoo*.
*Unreleased.
Although most of Ambrose’s record titles were released within a few weeks of
being cut, there were some exceptions. Instrumentals were particularly prone to
delayed release and it was not unusual for this to be several months. Because Ambrose
could only bring all his star players together at infrequent intervals throughout 1939
it’s not surprising that the big band instrumentals were recorded at a limited number of
sessions and because of Decca/UK’s aversion to such material many took a long time
to appear in the catalogue. Some were shelved (not ‘rejected’ in a true sense) and not
finally released until thirty years after being recorded! Around a dozen original big
band instrumentals were in the pipeline awaiting recording dates immediately prior to
the war. Some of these were Sid Phillips’ compositions, but Ambrose had also
commissioned material from Teddy White, Eddie Lisbona and Art Strauss. Most of
this work, as well as cover versions of American swing numbers, was rehearsed by the
band and some of it was broadcast and/or used for stage performances. But there was
much that never reached the ears of the public. Given the quality of what we do now
have access to on record it’s inevitable that much of interest got passed-over.
Ambrose’s American releases were also subject to delay in many cases.
However there were times when Decca/US would release an Ambrose record in double
quick time, especially where circumstances made possible its release ahead of rival
companies. Obviously this could only apply to material published and recorded in the
UK before it was available in America. The point is that such a privileged release
enabled Decca/US’s pluggers to get complementary copies to disc jockeys ahead of
rival companies. This had worked before in Ambrose’s case. In 1935/6 he had big hits
in America with two numbers that originated in Britain – I’m On A Sea-Saw and I’m In
A Dancing Mood. Although American bands and singers covered these songs,
Decca/US got in first and reaped the immediate benefits. And something similar
occurred in 1939 with a country-and-western type song called South Of The Border.
This song was written by the British song writing team of Jimmy Kennedy and
Michael Carr especially for American ‘singing cowboy’ Gene Autry who appeared in
London in 1939. Ambrose’s version of South Of The Border was recorded in June
1939, and released in America in the autumn…ahead of Autry’s! By the end of the
year it had outsold every other version, even though by this time it was being covered
by Bing Crosby and several top swing bands.
Two other titles released by Decca/US in 1939 certainly prove the point about
delayed reaction because both had been recorded by Ambrose in 1936 but not
previously released in America. These were O.K. For Sound and It’s A New World both with vocals by Jack Cooper, and neither covered by American performers at any
time. So far as big band instrumentals were concerned only Plain Jane, Early Morning
Blues, Hullabaloo, and The Penguin were released in America in 1939 – the first two
titles being particularly well received by reviewers of swing music and attracting
favourable comparisons with the output of top American bands like Larry Clinton’s.
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Around 120 Ambrose titles were listed in the Decca/US Popular Records
Catalog in 1939 including virtually all his instrumental output, which sold much better
in the US than in Britain.
Ambrose’s full-timers returned to active service at the end of July presumably
refreshed after their two-week break. While Ambrose remained in London with a bevy
of arrangers, fixers and other functionaries – all beavering away on tasks related to a
new full-time orchestra – the stage show recommenced its activities in Plymouth. After
this it went to Blackpool, then Southport. Subsequently it returned to London for cinevariety dates plus rehearsals with the re-formed orchestra. Here’s a typical thirtyminute stage show that took place at the Roxy cinema in Dalston just before war
broke-out: ‘Taint What You Do…Evelyn Dall.
Muskrat Ramble…Instrumental.
If I Didn’t Care…Vera Lynn.
Sing a Song Of Sunbeams…George Sandiford.
Little Sir Echo…Vera Lynn/Jimmy Miller.
The Beer Barrel Polka…Evelyn Dall.
Meanwhile, Ambrose completed the formation of his ‘new’ orchestra which he
claimed at the time would be…‘the best I’ve ever had’. Here’s the proposed line-up: AMBROSE & HIS ORCHESTRA
Director:
Trumpets:
Trombones:
Reeds:
Rhythm:
Strings:
Vocals:
Arrangers:
Bert Ambrose
Ernie Wilde, Archie Craig
Joe Curran, Stan Roderick
George Chisholm, Paul Fenoulhet
Woolf Phillips, Leslie Carew (+vocals),
Harry Smith (alto/clarinet)
Sid Phillips (baritone/bass clarinet)*
Stanley Black (piano/+arranger)
Jimmy Miller (piano/+vocals)
Sid Colin (guitar/+vocals)
Tiny Winters (bass)
Jock Cummings (drums)
Tom Webster (timpani/vibraphone/marimba)
Ernie Lewis (violin), Billy Anders (violin)…et al*
Evelyn Dall, Vera Lynn, Jack Cooper, Max Bacon
George Sandiford*, the Singtette*
Sid Phillips (chief), Eddie Lisbona, Teddy White,
Bert Barnes, Art Strauss, Edmundo Ros.
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The full orchestra commenced rehearsals during the second-to-last week in
August, although some members were also playing in the Ambrose Octet which was
still supporting the stage show in the London area. A notable feature of the new outfit
was the four-piece trumpet and trombone sections – quite advanced for the time. Even
more surprising was the inclusion of three virtually unknown and relatively young
newcomers in the trumpet section – all notable jazz soloists with minimal danceband
experience. However, we needn’t dwell any longer on this interesting development
because – for reasons that will soon become clear – Ambrose’s ambitions didn’t last
long enough to make any real impact.
The inclusion of a second tenor in the reeds section was now considered
essential and Harry Lewis, who had briefly occupied the chair earlier in the year, now
re-joined the band. He too was relatively unknown but had impeccable jazz credentials,
particularly on clarinet.
Stanley Black joined the band on first piano, and two other newcomers to the
rhythm section were Sid Colin on second guitar and Jock Cummings on drums. Like
his immediate predecessor Maurice Burman, Jock was influenced by the trend towards
greater subtlety in drumming and cymbal technique a la Count Basie. This transferred
overall tempo control to the bass player and the drummer was no longer obliged to
thump away on the bass drum (so drowning-out the bass player). The combination of
Stanley Black, Ivor Mairants, Tiny Winters, and Jock Cummings was, according to one
observer…‘Like four right hands controlled by a common brain’. Put another way, the
transfer of Max Bacon to the vocal department had been long overdue!
About the new percussionist, Tom Webster, little is known except that he was
an outstanding vibraphone player. Although Max Bacon had played some vibraphone
in the late 1920s (he was one of the first to do so in Britain) Ambrose regarded the
xylophone as preferable because of its greater percussive effect. Apparently, he had
now changed his mind. Tom Webster was also responsible for the exotic sounds
required for Latin American numbers and this usually involved other members of the
orchestra. Ambrose was very keen on authenticity in this area and added a young
drummer-percussionist to the arranging team to assist in such matters. Edmundo Ros
came to Britain from the Caribbean in 1937 hoping to put his studies and training in
classical music to good use. But for an Afro-Caribbean, however gifted, all doors were
closed on the ‘serious’ orchestral side of the business so he transferred his expertise to
‘less serious’ – but ultimately more profitable – Latin American rhythms. Billy Anders,
another unknown quantity, joined Ernie Lewis full-time on violin. The number of extra
strings occasionally added varied, although whatever the number it always seemed to
be more than was actually the case. Ambrose’s string ‘sound’ was highly praised at the
time and was largely due to the expertise of arranger Art Strauss.
By the time Ambrose started to recruit players for his new outfit most of the
American celebrities who had been visiting or working in Britain that summer had
departed. They were quite a distinguished bunch and included Fats Waller, the Mills
Brothers, the Dandridge Sisters…and Coleman Hawkins, who was returning home
after working in Europe for four years. Just before Coleman left, Ambrose hosted a
farewell party for Coleman and others at the Palm Beach Club in Soho.
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The first scheduled date for the orchestra during the first week of September
was a gala dance at the Empress Hall ballroom, although it seems unlikely that the
whole aggregation shown above would have taken part in this. The first major
scheduled broadcast for the full orchestra was a pre-recorded special Saturday evening
studio-based show on the BBC National Programme, due for transmission on
September 9th. Called ‘REMINISCING WITH AMBROSE’ this show was meant to
celebrate Ambrose’s broadcasting career to date – eleven years in all. As well as the
regular vocalists, Sam Browne and Elsie Carlisle (still a successful variety duo) would
also be taking part. For reasons that will soon be made clear neither the gala dance nor
this broadcast took place, although in the case of the broadcast it’s worth taking a look
at some of the proposed content: South American Joe
Hors D’Oeuvres
Body And Soul
Cohen The Crooner*
La Cucaracha
The Moon Was Yellow*
Smoke Gets In Your Eyes*
The Continental
Lullaby Of Broadway*
Empty Saddles*
No No A Thousand Times No*
All Through The Night*
Top Hat White Tie And Tails*
Organ Grinders Swing*
When Day Is Done*
All these titles were re-workings of Ambrose’s recordings and for those marked
* the original vocalists were to be featured. Significantly, twelve original recordings of
the listed titles were destined to be part of a forthcoming six-record ‘album’ due for
release by Decca/UK in November - also with the title: REMINISCING WITH
AMBROSE (!). This would be Ambrose’s first album and was aimed at the Christmas
trade. Such albums retailed at fifteen shillings [about £30 now] and came with artwork,
sleeve notes and a stout case with carrying handle. The records and case could,
however, be purchased separately so enabling the cost to be spread over time.
Incidentally, the cost of Decca/UK’s ‘Blue & Gold’ label ten-inch records at this time
was two shillings [about £4 now].
Ambrose’s radio ‘plug’ for his forthcoming album misfired because the
broadcast had to be cancelled. Six days before it was due to be transmitted war brokeout. On Friday September 1st Hitler invaded Poland and for the next couple of days
most people stayed at home glued to their radios. The stage show continued as usual,
but on the Saturday most places of entertainment closed early. Appropriately, a violent
thunderstorm hit London that evening while the cabinet met to formulate an ultimatum
to Germany, and one band (not Ambrose’s) coincidentally ended its late-night
broadcast with Irving Berlin’s haunting song Let’s Face The Music And Dance.
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The next day war was declared, and at a stroke what had been important a few
days before wasn’t anymore. As Ambrose put it later: ‘With the world about to crash
round our heads endless debates about whether to add a fourth trumpet to the band or
do a rumba version of The Lady Is A Tramp seemed pretty pointless’.
Ambrose’s pessimism was understandable but a trifle premature, as we shall
see shortly. However the point he was making can’t be ignored by anyone writing or
reading about things that do indeed seem pointless against the background of human
suffering, cruelty, heroism and momentous events that would eventually engulf the
entire world. The best that can be done is to acknowledge the fact…and press on
regardless!
Immediately war was declared all kinds of emergency powers and regulations
came into effect. Because of the possibility of aerial bombardment a ban on public
assembly was imposed and consequently all places of entertainment were shut-down
forthwith. Theatres, cinemas, dance halls, clubs and restaurants were all affected and
the results were potentially catastrophic for the huge entertainment industry. Tens of
thousands of employees were about to be deprived of a living and thousands of
businesses made bankrupt. No doubt Neville Chamberlain’s government believed it
was doing the right thing, but by the time a deputation of entertainment industry bigwigs (including Jack Hylton) called on the Minister of Labour the order had already
been rescinded at the instigation of the Treasury, alarmed at the prospect of half a
million or so entertainment workers claiming the dole. Whatever disruption occurred
as a result of the short-lived close-down it didn’t last more than a week or so.
Broadcasting was also affected by the outbreak of war. Both television and
regional radio were axed for the duration. Regional transmissions had enabled a degree
of choice to be exercised on the part of listeners, and so too had commercial stations
like Radio Luxembourg, Radio Eireann and many others. Some of the Continental
commercial stations closed-down, but many others didn’t and it was decided that the
BBC must provide more programmes with a similar appeal. Years of debate and
controversy over what we would now call ‘dumbing-down’ by the BBC was
unceremoniously swept-aside as two new country-wide networks came into being – the
Home Service for news, current affairs, ‘serious’ music, etc., and the General Forces
Programme for variety, light/dance music, comedy, etc. So far as the latter programme
was concerned, its purpose when fully functioning would be to provide entertainment
for the masses seven days a week, morning, noon and night. Few questioned the need
for such a programme, but debate and controversy over its content would continue
unabated throughout the war, and this will become apparent as our story develops.
The show at the London Hippodrome did take place during the last two weeks
of September. The main orchestra, including additions, was the main feature and a
different format to the usual variety one was adopted. Ambrose had responsibility for
the entire show, although some guest performers were featured in the first half
including Naunton Wayne, a dance routine (possibly the Tiller Girls) and Arthur
Young demonstrating a new musical instrument called the Novachord – the first
electronic keyboard to be marketed in Britain. Given the extra time enjoyed by the
Ambrose outfit it would be nice to know what they got up to at the Hippodrome, but no
programme or review has so far come to light. One thing though is for sure, it would
have been impractical to take such a large company of performers on the provincial
tour that was to follow-on in October and the orchestra was indeed scaled-down to
seventeen musicians.
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The revised line-up comprised: - three trumpets, three trombones, four reeds,
seven rhythm (including two pianos and two guitars) and Evelyn Dall, Vera Lynn, Max
Bacon and Jack Cooper exclusively on vocals and comedy routines (ably assisted as
required by Jimmy Miller and Sid Colin, both of whom played in the orchestra).
The five-week tour commenced during the first week of October at the Palace
Theatre in Manchester then went to Glasgow, Liverpool, Newcastle and Birmingham.
The usual weekday variety shows were combined with guest appearances at local
ballrooms and day-time concerts at troop encampments and armaments factories.
Moreover, Sunday concerts were held at Southport, Carlisle, and Preston. Here’s a
typical fifty-minute programme: Jumpin’ Jive…Evelyn Dall.
Pennsylvania 6-5000…Instrumental.
They Can’t Black Out The Moon…Vera Lynn.
Run Rabbit Run…Jack Cooper.
In The Mood…Instrumental.
How Ashamed I Was…Max Bacon/Leslie Carew/Sid Colin.
Begin The Beguine…Evelyn Dall.
Brazil…Instrumental (Stanley Black/Jimmy Miller – pianos).
South American Way…Vera Lynn/Jack Cooper.
Calling The Shots {sketch}…Max Bacon/Sid Colin/Jimmy Miller.
Kiss Me Goodnight Sergeant-Major…Leslie Carew.
Lilacs In The Rain…Jack Cooper.
The Beer Barrel Polka…Evelyn Dall.
We’ll Meet Again…Vera Lynn.
Note that around half the items were war related including Vera Lynn’s first
contribution which was written and arranged by Art Strauss. The sketch - a soldier,
sailor, and airman spoof - was probably devised by Ray Sonin and/or Sid Colin. The
Latin-American numbers required the vocalists concerned to wear appropriate
costumes with Evelyn Dall in a ‘tooty-fruity’ outfit emulating Carmen Miranda (a big
hit on Broadway in 1939). Incidentally Evelyn’s version of Begin The Beguine was a
rumba arranged by Edmundo Ros and different to the Stanley Black version that
Ambrose later recorded. By November 1939 the song We’ll Meet Again had already
been published in America but it was Vera Lynn who introduced it to British audiences
after discovering an advance copy in a music publisher’s office. Art Strauss made an
arrangement for her and she recorded it under her own name. It was an instant hit and
became ‘her song’. By this time she was without doubt the ‘star of the show’ and
Ambrose had the good sense to give her the closing item. Audiences soon learned the
words of the song and, encouraged by Vera, spontaneously joined in the final chorus.
If Ambrose had initially harboured doubts about the success of the tour given
the uncertainties of the time, they were soon dispelled. It was in fact wildly successful
and had it not been for the need to give the band a break from the gruelling schedule he
could have continued touring the provinces. And this wasn’t an exception because all
forms of entertainment were enjoying boom conditions that would last throughout the
time later known as the Phoney War. For reasons that social historians haven’t entirely
been able to figure out, and despite the blackout and increased entertainment taxes,
people flocked to theatres, cinemas, dancehalls, restaurants and clubs.
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Sales of sheet music and records also rose significantly so it wasn’t just a case
of people wanting to be part of a crowd. The extent to which people on the home front
were living in a Fools Paradise would become clear later, although even if they could
have seen what was to come it might have made little difference. Anyway, many chose
to believe Prime Minister Neville Chamberlain when he asserted that: ‘Hitler has
missed the bus’. For others it really was a case of ‘eat, drink and be merry…!
At the conclusion of the provincial tour in early November the full orchestra
was once more scaled-down and a stage show toured cinemas in the London area until
mid-December. There were also several recording sessions for Decca, but no
broadcasts. In early November Ambrose entered into discussions with the new owners
of Ciro’s who sought his return (the restaurant had been closed since Jack Harris
relinquished ownership some months earlier). An interesting possibility, but another
old haunt – the May Fair Hotel – was also bidding for the maestro, and it was to this
venue that Ambrose agreed to return.
Here are the recordings that Ambrose made in the autumn of 1939: [Vocal by Jack Cooper…Run Rabbit Run, How Ashamed I Was (+Max Bacon/ Les
Carew), The Washing On The Siegfried Line, I’m Sending You The Siegfried Line,
Rhymes Of The Times (+Max Bacon/Les Carew), Ridin’ Home, Have You Met Miss
Jones, If A Grey Haired Lady Says ‘How’s Yer Father’, Goodbye Sally, Nursie
Nursie, Gulliver’s Travels (+Evelyn Dall/Vera Lynn), How Beautiful You Are, An
Apple For The Teacher (+Evelyn Dall). [Vocal by Sam Browne…Nasty Uncle Adolf.
[Vocal by Leslie Carew…Kiss Me Goodnight Sergeant-Major. [Vocal by Evelyn
Dall…My Heart Belongs To Daddy. [Vocal by Vera Lynn…I’ll Remember, Love
Never Grows Old, Lonely Sweetheart, Somewhere In France With You.
And these were the major hits of the year not listed elsewhere: At The Balalaika, Adios, Chicago, Darn That Dream, Do I Love You, Flying Home,
Honolulu, Heaven Can Wait, I Concentrate On You, I Get Along Without You Very
Well, I Didn’t Know What Time It Was, La Mer, The Lady’s In Love With You, Little
Brown Jug, The Lamp Is Low, Moonlight Serenade, Stairway To The Stars, Sunrise
Serenade, There’ll Always Be An England, Tara’s Theme, Undecided.
In mid-December Ambrose announced that he would be forming a twelve-piece
band for the May Fair residency, which was due to commence on the 22nd of that
month. Two further points of interest also emerged from his statement – a return to
regular broadcasting and a continuation of the stage show in the London area supported
by a band similar to the Ambrose Octet, but restyled the Blue Lyres. There would also
be an Ambrose Octet, but this was the jazz-oriented unit brought into being for special
purposes. And just to confuse matters, the personnel involved with the three outfits
overlapped. As details weren’t finalised until the New Year we can consider them later.
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Ambrose’s return to the May Fair in late December was hailed as a major
national event and received an unusual degree of press attention. On the night he
opened a capacity crowd of six-hundred attended. One gossip columnist gushed
ecstatically: ‘There was a feeling of happiness and gladness that Ambrose was back
among them, and that was what they gave themselves up to’. Some members of the
band were far from ecstatic – they would have to give themselves up to the softlyplayed saccharine-sweet sounds demanded by the May Fair’s management and
clientele. And so ended 1939 – and a lot else besides!
The bands that Ambrose required for his modus operandi emerged as working
entities during the first week of January 1940. We can take a look at the line-up in each
case, but first something rather important must be considered…from this time until the
end of the war Ambrose’s personnel situation was extremely unstable. For most of the
time he did manage to keep a core of musicians in full-time employment, but was still
obliged to supplement them with outsiders for most purposes. This means that all wartime line-up lists must be regarded with caution.
AMBROSE & HIS ORCHESTRA
Director:
Brass:
Arthur Mouncy (trumpet)
Tim Casey (trumpet)
Reeds:
Andy McDevitt (tenor/clarinet)
Rhythm:
Tiny Winters (bass)
Vic Burtwell (timpani/xylophone/marimba)
Strings:
Ernie Lewis (violin/+deputy)
Billy Anders (violin)
Vocals:
Evelyn Dall
Vera Lynn
Jack Cooper
Max Bacon
Arrangers:
Eddie Lisbona
Teddy White
Bert Barnes
Art Strauss
Edmundo Ros
Members of the non-augmented May Fair band show in bold type.
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Some major changes, then, particularly in the brass section – and the return of
some old faces. How much augmentation took place during broadcasts is not known.
There was no actual bandstand in the Starlight Room where Ambrose played at this
time and so larger-than-usual bands could always be accommodated (though at the
expense of some tables and dance-floor space). Nor is it clear what size orchestra
Ambrose used for recording sessions, although on some recordings dating from this
time the string section has clearly been supplemented.
And here’s the stage show band: THE BLUE LYRES
Tim Casey (trumpet)
Sid Colin (guitar/+vocals)
Tiny Winters (bass)
Vic Burtwell (timpani/xylophone/+drums)
Vera Lynn (vocals)
This band (including Vera Lynn) toured cinemas in the London area on and off
for about two months. During the ‘off’ times an alternative unit (with Evelyn Dall and
Vera Lynn) toured variety theatres, also in the London area. This alternative band had
Billy Amstell on clarinet in place of the two Harry’s, and despite being a nine-piece
outfit was called the Ambrose Octet.
As in previous years the name Ambrose Octet was also used for a group that
Ambrose/Sid Phillips based on Bob Crosby’s Bob Cats, and like the American model
was supposed to function as a ‘band-within-a-band’. This outfit was intended to appeal
to jazz lovers. It did (as we shall see) but, as before, circumstances cut short its life.
Moreover, Ambrose got nowhere when he again tried to interest the BBC and
Decca/UK in the group’s potential as a jazz unit. Here’s the line-up: THE AMBROSE (JAZZ) OCTET
Frank Weir (alto/clarinet)
Andy McDevitt (tenor/clarinet)
Stanley Black (piano)
Tiny Winters (bass)
+
Evelyn Dall /Vera Lynn (vocals)
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Several arrangements for this group were written by Sid Phillips, Bert Barnes
and others and rehearsals were held regularly even though no one was quite sure what
they were rehearsing for! Only one public performance of this jazz unit was reported at
the time – at the annual ‘JAZZ JAMBOREE’ in April, (considered later). It was perhaps
inevitable that the BBC chose to ignore Ambrose’s request for his own separate jazzoriented programme given the confusion that this may have caused among dim-witted
listeners. However, the subsequent introduction of a programme similar in intent and
called ‘RADIO RHYTHM CLUB’ was perhaps no coincidence.
The notion that Ambrose, or any commercial bandleader, genuinely appreciated
jazz was anathema to some among the jazz fraternity. When it was put to a prominent
member of a provincial rhythm club early in 1940 that: ‘You’ll surely agree that
Ambrose has the talent to bring out the best in his players’ he replied: ‘I’ll agree to no
such thing…Ambrose has no talent…it’s the players who bring out the best in him, and
that’s all there is to it’. At the time such sentiments didn’t have much currency even in
rhythm club circles, but after the war they did because some of those expressing them
at the time later became influential commentators. This was certainly true of the
earnest young man who made those early wartime remarks.
Even more remarkable to some was (and maybe still is) the notion that
Ambrose understood – in a musical-technical sense – what was going-on in his own
orchestra and from time-to-time contributed arrangements (although where he found
the time to do so is another matter). That he did have the ability to arrange was
confirmed by Sid Phillips and others. According to Stanley Black: ‘Bert had quite a
good grasp of theory, although he wasn’t in any sense brilliant…he had a reasonable
orchestration technique and occasionally wrote arrangements which were routine but
quite genuine’. The tunes (all instrumentals) that Ambrose arranged during the first
few months of 1940 were all based on classical themes: Liebestraum {Liszt}
Nocturne {Chopin}
Waltz {Tchaikovsky}
Serenade {Schubert}
Prelude {Bach}
Caprice {Paganini}
Whether a danceband version of Liszt’s Liebestraum was really in the best
possible taste is questionable but ‘jazzing the classics’ was very popular at the time and
many big bands – including Jimmie Lunceford’s – indulged in the practice. These
arrangements were probably broadcast and a couple recorded by Decca. One
interesting point is that because these titles were in the ‘public domain’ the
arrangements were subject to copyright and so Ambrose could claim royalties just like
a composer.
Normal arrangements supposedly had to be approved by the publisher of the
music and were sometimes copied from recordings almost note-for-note by the less
scrupulous bandleaders. Some were notorious for this including Hal Kemp in America
and Jack Harris in Britain.
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.
Jack Harris may have filched Ambrose’s orchestrations but he didn’t stay a
thorn in his side for long because in the spring of 1940 he returned to America and
became resident bandleader at the famous Stork Club.
January and February 1940 were the coldest months on record and there were
some quite heavy snowfalls. Even so Ambrose’s presence at the May Fair ensured that
the Starlight Room did exceptionally good business. Late night broadcasting on the
General Forces Programme commenced from the hotel in early January. Although
most outside broadcasts had been axed after the start of the war some were resumed in
1940 and Ambrose was an early beneficiary. However, there was no regular day of the
week or time slot allocated to his broadcasts and all schedules were subject to change
at short notice. Durations ranged between thirty minutes and an hour – usually
somewhere in-between. As usual, Ambrose treated these broadcasts as shows rather
than mere presentations of dance music but given the erratic nature of the scheduling
it’s difficult to see how the likes of Vera Lynn, Evelyn Dall and Max Bacon could
attend when the stage show was also on the road, although they were always listed in
the Radio Times as star attractions. In late January a Pathé film crew turned-up at the
May Fair and filmed the band during one of the broadcasts. The result was a Pathetone
‘short’ that featured the orchestra and Evelyn Dall performing Franklin D. Roosevelt
Jones. This short film was shown in cinemas throughout the country.
Starting in mid-January Vera Lynn and the Blue Lyres commenced a tour of
London variety theatres, including weekly stints at New Cross, Stratford, Hackney,
Finsbury Park and Ilford. It seems that Evelyn Dall was otherwise engaged and Jack
Cooper confined to the May Fair. Another girl vocalist was hired around this time but
nothing about her is known and she doesn’t seem to have taken part in the broadcasts.
In mid-March Ambrose took the regular May Fair band on a tour of London cinemas,
the half-hour stage show being a single presentation after which the band made a
hurried return to the May Fair for the nine o’clock start. Broadcasts continued at
irregular (but mostly weekly) intervals at various times, with an occasional Saturday
late-night slot. Here’s a typical programme: Hitchhiker Gets A Lift [comp. Lisbona]…Instrumental.
My Wubba Dolly …Evelyn Dall.
Bless ‘Em All…Leslie Carew/Max Bacon.
Rosita … Sam Browne.
Seventeen Candles …Vera Lynn.
Tootin’ Around [comp. Amstell]…Instrumental.
So Deep Is The Night [arr. Strauss]…Instrumental/Billy Miller (violin)
Careless …Vera Lynn.
Bella Bambina [comp. Art Strauss]…Sam Browne.
One O’clock Jump [arr. Phillips]…Instrumental.
Scrub Me Mama With A Boogie Beat [arr. Barnes]…Evelyn Dall.
It’s A Lovely Day Tomorrow…Vera Lynn.
Pinocchio {medley}…Evelyn Dall/Sam Browne/Vera Lynn.
(For this particular broadcast Sam Browne was standing-in for Jack Cooper)
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Some studio-based radio programmes were also recorded around this time – at
Bush House the headquarters of the BBC Empire Service. This suggests that they were
intended for overseas transmissions, or the location may have merely been a wartime
measure. Broadcasting schedules were very erratic at this time and even the Radio
Times can’t be relied on as a true guide as to what was broadcast – or when. Some of
the variety content of the Forces Programme was transmitted from Bristol rather than
London but during the Phoney War period use was still being made of various London
studios for live and recorded music programmes.
It was around mid-March 1940 that rumours started to circulate on the Archer
Street ‘grapevine’ that a number of Ambrose’s sidemen would soon be leaving him to
join the RAF. At this time Ambrose was recuperating from the ‘flu (the broadcast
detailed above was directed by Art Strauss and regular work at the May Fair was being
supervised by Ernie Lewis). Of course, many in the band were eligible for call-up so
the rumours didn’t excite much attention even though mention was made of them in
the Melody Maker. Ambrose, like all the other bandleaders, was resigned to personnel
being picked-off in ones-or-twos, and the bothersome process of finding adequate
replacements. What he didn’t expect was the wholesale removal of eight key players at
a stroke. Only one of these – Stanley Black – was actually conscripted, the others
volunteered on block.
According to legend Tommy McQuater, George Chisholm, Andy McDevitt,
Jock Cummings, Harry Lewis, Sid Colin and Jimmy Miller were deliberating on their
future one fine spring day around the Ides of March when their attention was drawn to
a rather unusual ‘call to arms’ by the RAF’s Director of Music – Wing Commander
O’Donnell. He had let it be known that professional musicians joining the RAF need
not allow their musical talents to go to waste. Some of the very best might be accepted
into the ranks of one or other of the central RAF bands, one of which was being
expanded to symphony orchestra proportions. But even humble danceband musicians
posted to various commands around the country might expect to join semi-official
spare-time dancebands, even though their official duties would be far from musical in
nature. By the spring of 1940 about two-hundred professional musicians had
volunteered for the RAF although most of these had to be content with playing in the
spare-time bands that did indeed come into being at RAF stations around Britain. So
far – so what? A bunch of Ambrose sidemen joining the RAF and then being dispersed
to various training centres in the usual manner, and if they were lucky playing in sparetime bands. But that’s precisely what the Ambrose contingent hoped to avoid. And so
on the first Monday in April seven hopefuls turned-up at RAF Uxbridge, the home
station of the RAF Central Band, and…well what exactly did happen next? The story
goes that Wing Commander O’Donnell became aware that a group of star players from
the Ambrose band had arrived on his doorstep and there and then decided to form what
would officially be called the RAF No. 1 Dance Orchestra, and later (unofficially and
more affectionately) the Squadronaires.
Supposedly, Ambrose was unaware of these goings-on and that particular
Monday – April Fools day as it so happens – the May Fair orchestra was scheduled to
appear in an early-evening stage show in Kilburn. This was due to start at 7.30pm and
the boys who had gone to Uxbridge arrived at the theatre with only minutes to spare
before curtain-up. After the thirty-minute show most of the band had to dash-off to the
May Fair, including Ambrose. Later that evening, or possibly the next day, someone
broke the news to him.
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At a stroke Ambrose had lost half the May Fair band and two key members of
the stage show. Moreover, they would all be leaving at the end of the week. (Even this
was a concession on the part of the RAF because they should have gone into service
the day they enlisted). Ambrose had to make the best of things…it was his patriotic
duty no less! However, there were two important concessions that he did wring out of
some of those departing. Firstly, that the four who were members of the Ambrose
(jazz) Octet would appear at the ‘JAZZ JAMBOREE’ the following Sunday (April 7th),
and secondly that the two players whom he considered to be ‘indispensable’ (Tommy
McQuater and George Chisholm) give him first option to employ their services
whenever they might be available.
The Ambrose Octet did appear at the 1940 ‘JAZZ JAMBOREE’, its first and
last public appearance as then constituted. Ambrose introduced the proceedings with a
few words (for which he received a standing ovation) and then left the Octet, Evelyn
Dall and Vera Lynn to do their stuff. Regrettably, no details of the programme have
come to light, but one thing seems certain - whatever pretensions Ambrose had to play
more than an insignificant role in the development of jazz and swing music in Britain
ended as the curtain came down on that show. To a great extent, the torch was passed
by force of circumstances to the Squadronaires, although there were some in Britain at
the time, and many later, who questioned the very notion that outfits that were
essentially dancebands could be significant in jazz terms. And so far as swing was
concerned, well there were no British equivalents to the great American bands of
Benny Goodman, Artie Shaw, Tommy Dorsey, Harry James and Glenn Miller until
well after these bands had enjoyed their peak success in the early-to-mid 1940s.
Ambrose’s reputation as leader of Britain’s most stylish band had been established by
the time swing music emerged as a truly mass phenomenon in America, and it’s
debatable whether he could have retained this status even if there had been no war.
Only his reputation remained intact after circumstances made further development
impossible. And, as we shall see, by the time circumstances changed for the better it
would be too late to pick up where he had left off.
The eighth key player to leave was Stanley Black, although here it was a case
of call-up and Ambrose had sufficient advance warning to find a suitable replacement.
This was Eddie Macauley who had been recommended by Arthur Young. In return for
this favour Ambrose arranged for Frank Weir, late of the Ambrose Octet, to join
Arthur Young’s Swingtette – a small jazz-oriented club band. It was probably also
through Arthur Young that Ambrose became aware of a girl singer called Doreen
Villiers, who impressed him greatly. Ambrose was assisting Teddy White to set-up a
band for a residency at the Lansdowne House Restaurant and Doreen seemed an ideal
choice to be his vocalist, although she remained under contract to Ambrose for the next
year or so. Edmundo Ros also got a lot of encouragement from Ambrose a little later
when he formed a small band that specialised in Latin American dance music. Both
Teddy White and Edmundo Ros left Ambrose’s arranging team on becoming full-time
bandleaders. Since early in 1940 Sid Phillips had also been leading a small band – the
Sid Phillips Swing Trio - at the newly-opened Club Le Suivi. In this group Bert Barnes
played piano, but like Sid retained his place on Ambrose’s arranging team. The third
member of Sid’s band, drummer Maurice Burman, switched to Ambrose’s main
orchestra on the departure of Jock Cummings. Other band changes will be outlined
after we have considered those in the vocal department.
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The hiatus caused by the departure of so many key personnel resulted in the
(temporary) abandonment of the stage show concept. Coincidentally, impresario Tom
Arnold approached Ambrose with a proposition for a stage musical based around the
talents of Evelyn Dall, comedian Max Wall, and a number of other variety performers
including Max Bacon. Called ‘PRESENT ARMS’ this war-oriented show would be
Evelyn’s first venture into musical theatre since her Broadway debut in 1935, and
Ambrose readily agreed. The show opened at the Birmingham Hippodrome in early
May and a week later transferred to the Prince of Wales Theatre in the West End.
Evelyn’s replacement at the May Fair was a girl singer called Mary Lee who had been
recommended by Maurice Burman. She had first come to prominence with the Roy
Fox band in 1935 and had a similar singing style to Evelyn Dall, whose songs she
tackled with gusto.
Ambrose was well aware that Evelyn Dall and Vera Lynn could not now be
regarded primarily as band singers. Their all-in weekly salaries did largely reflect this
fact but more to the point so did their professional activities away from the bandstand.
For example Vera Lynn had her own recording contract with Decca/UK and by early
1940 was selling more records in Britain than Bing Crosby. She was also occasionally
taking part in radio variety shows as a guest artist. Evelyn Dall had also been given the
opportunity to record for Decca/UK as a solo artist, and the BBC had given her the
chance to star in a radio show called ‘SATURDAY AT NINE-THIRTY’. Both Evelyn
and Vera had fan clubs and apart from their regular work appeared in advertisements
and were often featured in show business and fashion magazines and press articles. In
1939 Evelyn came first in the Melody Maker poll for Top Female Vocalist, and Vera
came second - in 1940 the positions were reversed. They were both stars in their own
right notwithstanding the connection with Ambrose.
In Evelyn Dall’s case routine work with the Ambrose Orchestra temporarily
ended when she joined the cast of ‘PRESENT ARMS’. In June, Evelyn made her final
contribution to Ambrose’s recorded output, but returned briefly to regular vocalising at
the May Fair in August. Subsequently she concentrated on stage and film work and
only broadcast with the Ambrose band as a guest artist. Unlike Vera Lynn, Evelyn Dall
seems to have had little interest in radio work or making records. Maybe it wasn’t an
aversion to the microphone or studio-based work as such, but rather a feeling that her
main appeal was visual and she always seemed more at home in front of an audience or
a camera.
Vera Lynn was also contemplating a career change in the spring of 1940. Once
the stage shows had ceased the best that Ambrose could offer was regular vocalising at
the May Fair, intermittent recording sessions and the chance to freelance when not so
engaged. As she was doing quite well in the latter capacity so far as topping-up her
regular salary was concerned it must have been quite tempting to keep things as they
were. After all, as a completely independent performer she would have no guaranteed
regular income, would have to hire an agent, a manager, an accompanist and musical
director, possibly a publicist, an accountant, a lawyer…and have the tenacity to resist
the predatory ‘sharks’ that then (as now) infested ‘the business’. But Vera was well
aware of all this and still wanted to do it, so there! Ambrose was, of course, mortified
and this was compounded when it became apparent that his own agent, Leslie
McDonnell, was aiding and abetting the transitional process.
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After a lot of huffing and puffing Ambrose, as usual, accepted the inevitable
and, as usual, extracted a number of post-departure commitments. This meant that Vera
drifted out of the Ambrose orbit in much the same way as she drifted in, and it’s
difficult to be precise about the date she left. Her final credited broadcast with
Ambrose (which may have been pre-recorded) was in late July and she made her last
record for him around the same time. However, she seems to have started touring
variety theatres as a solo act before this. The parting of the ways was quite amicable,
and occasionally thereafter Ambrose provided arrangements and (anonymous)
orchestral backing for her Decca recordings.
Max Bacon also wished to concentrate on developing his career as a solo
performer but wasn’t so keen on leaving the security of the Ambrose fold. His days as
drummer with the main orchestra were now over, but not necessarily with any band
that Ambrose might form for stage shows. For the time being he would be fully
occupied with the show ‘PRESENT ARMS’. Incidentally, he had volunteered for the
army earlier in the year but weighing-in at twenty stone was unceremoniously rejected!
The band that Ambrose formed after the departure of so many of his sidemen
wasn’t in any sense ‘cobbled together’ or musically inferior. Let’s take a look at the
line-up in the spring of 1940: AMBROSE & HIS ORCHESTRA
Director:
Brass:
Reeds:
Rhythm:
Strings:
Vocals:
Arrangers:
Arthur Mouncey (trumpet)
Tim Casey (trumpet)
Leslie Carew (trombone/+vocal)
Bruce Campbell (trombone)*
Joe Crossman (alto/clarinet/baritone)
Harry Smith (tenor/clarinet)
Eddie Macauley (piano)
Tiny Winters (bass)
Vera Lynn
Jack Cooper
Mary Lee
Evelyn Dall*
Sid Phillips
Bert Barnes
Art Strauss
Peter Knight
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Again, it must be emphasised that such lists have to be treated with caution;
however the players shown in bold type formed the regular band at the May Fair and
were essentially full-timers. Peter Knight, shown above as a part-time arranger,
replaced Eddie Macaulay as regular pianist at some stage during the summer, but apart
from this change the instrumental personnel remained reasonably stable for the rest of
the year.
For recording purposes a substantial string section was sometimes added but no
one can remember whether the band was augmented by extra brass players and/or a
string section for broadcasts from the May Fair at this time. Certainly, some broadcasts
were studio-based and pre-recorded, and for these the band was usually fully
augmented. A number of the musicians listed in the above line-up did have a
continuous, though not necessarily full-time, association with Ambrose during the
early war years, and there was a degree of personnel continuity throughout the war.
An important full-time addition in the spring of 1940 was a young girl singer
called Anne Shelton, and the significance of her arrival on the scene cannot be
overemphasised. Legend has it that one evening Ambrose was listening to a popular
radio show called ‘MONDAY NIGHT AT EIGHT’. An occasional feature of this
programme was the introduction of a new singing talent and on the evening in question
Anne had been selected to take part. On hearing her voice Ambrose was completely
bowled-over and later the same evening contacted the show’s producer Ronnie
Waldman and through him got Anne’s home telephone number. Eventually he reached
Anne’s mother and invited Anne to audition at the May Fair the very next morning.
Anne Shelton (real name Patricia Sibley) was born into an Irish family in the
South London suburb of Dulwich. She attended a local convent school and apart from
singing in the school choir had no specific voice training or musical education.
However, even as a child she possessed a unique singing style and innate sense of
rhythm, and through a friend of the family came to the attention of Jack Hylton the
bandleader and impresario. Hylton invited her to record a couple of titles with his
band, but as she was only twelve at the time there could be no follow-up.
By the time she reached her ‘teens Anne had developed a magnificent vocal
technique and encouraged by her mother she entered local talent contests. It was while
taking part in one of these that Anne came to the attention of Ronnie Waldman who
invited her to take part in ‘MONDAY NIGHT AT EIGHT’.
Many years after the event, Anne recalled her audition for Ambrose that fine
spring day in 1940: ‘My mummy took me along to the May Fair Hotel and I felt very
nervous. We were escorted down a wide staircase and into to a large room with
pillars…it was a restaurant with a small dance area at one end and there was some kind
of rehearsal in progress. We waited for what seemed ages and then a side door opened
and two men marched-in…both were dressed like gangsters, or so it seemed to me. My
nervousness turned to terror when one of the men came over and drawled: “Welcome
to the organisation!”…it was Mr Ambrose wearing a light grey suit, dark blue shirt,
white tie and a trilby hat…“So you’re the little girl with the big sound…well girly lets
see what you can do shall we?”
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I was led over to a piano which wasn’t on the bandstand and away from where
the rehearsal was taking place. The man at the piano didn’t seem quite so gangster-like
now and had at least taken off his hat. In fact he was very kind and I sat next to him
and in a gravely voice he asked me things like: “What’s your range honey?” and
“What’s your favourite key sugar?”…and I hadn’t a clue about either. Eventually he
said “O.K. sweetheart don’t worry, we’ll find something suitable”…and that something
was Begin The Beguine, the tune and words of which I knew almost backwards.
Someone then brought over a microphone, shouted “shut up” into it and with some
difficulty adjusted it down to my height. Ambrose, perhaps expecting the worst, went
and hid behind a pillar! I was still pretty nervous but once I started to sing all my fear
went…and it was always like that for me. Anyway, Ambrose emerged from behind the
pillar with a grin on his face and the next day my mummy and daddy signed a five year
contract on my behalf. And all I could think about was that I wouldn’t have to work in
Woolworth’s!’
By the end of the week Anne was singing at the May Fair and her first studio
broadcast with the band was transmitted the following Sunday. On 7th June she
recorded Begin The Beguine at Decca’s studio, the session being shared with Vera
Lynn, and on 25th June she recorded A Nightingale Sang In Berkeley Square at a
session also attended by Evelyn Dall. Both of Anne’s contributions ensured that the
two songs would be big hits for Ambrose. It was a fine start, although her contributions
to broadcasts from the May Fair were not credited in the Radio Times until she
officially replaced Vera Lynn in August. Anne Shelton’s success meant the end of
Mary Lee’s brief time with the Ambrose Orchestra, particularly when Ambrose
realised that Anne was equally adept at ballads and up-tempo numbers. However, this
was not to be the end of Mary’s connection with Ambrose, nor the last time her Dalllike attributes would be called into service during the absence of the ‘real thing’ as we
shall see.
By the time Evelyn Dall and Vera Lynn made their final contributions to
Ambrose’s Decca recording career about half the output for 1940 had been recorded.
Here are the main titles recorded since the beginning of the year: [Vocal by Jack Cooper…Bella Bambina, El Rancho Grande, Where Or When, Are
You Having Any Fun, Over The Rainbow, Scatterbrain, The Lady On The Cameo,
The Gaucho Serenade, Rosita, Seventeen Candles, Pinocchio (+Evelyn Dall/Vera
Lynn), When You Wish Upon a Star (+Vera Lynn), Turn On The Old Music Box, In
An Old Dutch Garden, Indian Summer, My Capri Serenade, In The Quartermaster’s
Store (+Leslie Carew), ‘Neath The Shanty Town Moon, There’s A Boy Coming
Home On Leave, Arm In Arm, The Woodpecker Song, If I Should Fall In Love
Again, The Singing Hills, Cuban Romeo, Serenade Of Napoli, When I Dream Of
Home, I Was Watching A Man Paint A Fence, I’ve Got My Eyes On You, I Can’t
Love You Any More, Tiggerty-Boo, Meet The Sun Half Way, I Haven’t Time To Be
A Millionaire, Carry On, So Deep Is The Night, Chatterbox (+Vera Lynn).
Continued……
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.[Vocal by Vera Lynn…Goodnight Children Everywhere, I’m In Love For The Last
Time, Careless, You Made Me Care, When Our Dreams Grow Old, I Love You
Much Too Much, By The Wishing Well, Don’t You Ever Cry. [Vocal by Evelyn
Dall…No Mamma No. [Vocal by Anne Shelton…Begin The Beguine, A Nightingale
Sang In Berkeley Square, Fools Rush In. [Instrumentals…In An Eighteenth
Century Drawing Room, Liebestraum, Nocturne, Waltz Of The Flowers, Serenade.
Despite the upheavals that took place in the ranks of the Ambrose Orchestra
coincidentally with recording sessions for much of the above output, the quality is of
the highest order and some titles are quite outstanding. Note that one of Vera Lynn’s
last contributions was released in America – only the second time this had occurred
since she joined the band. Bert Barnes’ haunting arrangement of this number, and
Vera’s powerful vocal (which was credited on the record label) aroused interest in the
U.S. So too did Anne Shelton’s American release which for a short time was ahead of
recording artists like Bing Crosby and Glenn Miller in the race to enter the Billboard
‘Music Popularity Chart’.
This particular Billboard Chart had been introduced in the summer of 1940 and
included a TOP TEN BEST SELLING SINGLES list. Unlike previous charts this
latest one was based on actual (sampled) record sales, rather than (sampled) radio and
juke box plays. Both systems had their good and bad points, but the Billboard Chart
superseded earlier ones in popularity from this time on. Whether Ambrose’s late-1939
hit South Of The Border, which had peak sales of 84,000 in the US, would have
qualified for inclusion in the new Chart had this been introduced earlier is not known
but seems likely.
During the Phoney War phase the goings-on in Europe made little impact in
America precisely because there was little actually going on. All that was about to
change – and with a vengeance – as summer succeeded spring in 1940. There was to be
nothing ‘phoney’ about what was next on Adolf Hitler’s agenda.
In a nut shell these were the main momentous events that even the most
dedicated hedonist would have been aware of at the time: - APRIL…start of
Blitzkrieg, Germans invade Low Countries; MAY…Germans invade France, beat-back
French and British armies, Winston Churchill forms coalition government;
JUNE…Allied troops evacuated from Dunkirk; JULY…Luftwaffe start bombing
British military and industrial targets, invasion scare starts; AUGUST…Battle of
Britain starts, bombs occasionally fall in Central London; SEPTEMBER…start of the
Blitz on London and major towns and cities, invasion scare intensifies.
Until well into July entertainment and sporting fixtures continued in London
much as before. Theatres, cinemas, restaurants, clubs and dance halls continued to
enjoy the boom conditions that had started in the autumn of 1939, despite hikes in
entertainment taxes. Although not at this stage of the war deliberate, some bombing of
civilian areas occurred, including in Central London, and all remaining outside
broadcasts from hotels and restaurants came to an end. Subsequent broadcasts by
Ambrose were studio recordings, and these continued to be transmitted until the
autumn of 1940.
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Ambrose was over the maximum call-up age, but even if he had been called-up
he would not have faced combat duties because he was so obviously a major celebrity.
The services wanted celebrities to join their ranks because it set a good example but
didn’t want the unwelcome publicity that would come from famous fatalities. In
Ambrose’s case a proposed posting in the RAF came to nothing. The proposition
supposedly came from Air Commodore His Royal Highness the Duke of Kent (Prince
George of the Embassy Club). The Duke was also too celebrated to be put in mortal
danger so had to be content with the post of Chief Welfare Officer to the RAF’s Home
Command. One of his duties was to oversee entertainment provisions and recreational
activities, and who better to assist him in these tasks than the ex-maestro of the
Embassy Cub. To turn down the chance of becoming a squadron leader with a
relatively cushy posting seems inexplicable, but despite the urgings of colleagues like
Billy Amstell and Sid Phillips, that’s precisely what Ambrose did.
‘Farmer Ambrose’ may seem even more improbable than ‘squadron leader
Ambrose’; however that’s what he actually became in the summer of 1940. It was
probably some kind of war-related motive that induced Ambrose to acquire a small
farm ‘somewhere in Hertfordshire’, but its usefulness as a safe haven during heavy
bombing raids on London wouldn’t have gone unappreciated! Ambrose wasn’t
inclined to pin-point the farm’s location, but it seems to have been just outside the
London area and only about forty minutes drive from the West End. Not that he seems
to have spent much time there - even during the Blitz (which would last until the late
spring of 1941) he retained his apartment and office in Mayfair.
Permanent members of the May Fair band took staggered holidays during
August, although Ambrose remained on duty throughout that month. He was due to
take two weeks vacation in September and as the end of August approached the
bombing raids intensified. A bomb fell very close to the May Fair one night while the
band was performing and although they were playing in the downstairs restaurant
rather than the Starlight Room it was still an unnerving experience. Apart from his own
life, he had the lives of his employees to consider, and anyway…what was the point of
it all? This question was even more valid now than it had been one year earlier. Around
mid-September Ambrose decided to end his residency at the hotel, even though he still
had four months to go on his contract.
In order to get an early release from his contractual obligations to Gordon
Hotels (the owners of the May Fair) Ambrose was obliged to feign illness claiming,
according to a report in the Melody Maker, to be ‘suffering from extreme mental and
physical exhaustion’. The permanent members of the orchestra (including vocalists)
now numbered a dozen or so stalwarts and these were assured that their jobs were quite
safe even though Ambrose would be ‘recuperating’ in Torquay for the foreseeable
future. Ivor Mairants was deputed to preside over the May Fair band for the last two
weeks of its existence, and Sid Phillips took over responsibility for recording and
broadcasting commitments.
Although Sid no longer officially functioned as Ambrose’s chief arranger he
had remained loosely connected with the band over the previous few months and
continued to contribute routine arrangements. Ambrose’s temporary departure from the
scene gave him virtual control of what was left of the band, a task made somewhat
easier when his tenure at the Club Le Suivi ended in late October. At this time he was
also involved with voluntary war tasks, including a posting in the special constabulary.
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Just before he left the May Fair in September 1940, Ambrose asked Sid
Phillips to undertake a commission that was not at all routine. What Ambrose wanted
was an original composition arranged for the orchestra. The title of this work – and the
music – was to reflect the courage of the British people under attack by the ‘dastardly
Hun’. This was required for a special pre-recorded radio show to be broadcast on
American network radio. The original idea had come from official government sources
and was essentially a propaganda exercise. In fact there was by now enormous interest
in, and sympathy for, the plight of the victims of air raids among the American public
and the broadcast was clearly intended to capitalise on this. According to a report in
the Melody Maker the show was broadcast coast-to-coast one Sunday evening in late
October (but no details have come to light).
In response to Ambrose’s request Sid composed a suite in three movements
called Aspects In An Air Raid Shelter. Apart from an augmented Ambrose Orchestra
(directed by Sid), participants in this recorded show included Jack Buchanan, Jessie
Matthews, George Arliss, Dame Myra Hess (the concert pianist) and Michael
Redgrave. Ambrose was able to pull the necessary strings to get some of his former
star players back for the recording session, and according to the Melody Maker report
Sid’s composition was received with enthusiasm in America. For some reason it
wasn’t published at the time, and only one part – subtitled Getting Around – was later
recorded by Ambrose, but not released until well after air raid shelters had become
unfashionable topics of conversation!
Apart from this special gathering an ad hoc Ambrose Orchestra only came
together for Decca recording sessions for the remainder of 1940. Some former fulltimers worked for Ambrose part-time and freelanced; others split their time between
Ambrose’s recording sessions and work for other leaders – a good example being Joe
Jeanette who joined the Savoy Orpheans about this time. The continuing Blitz meant
that many musicians were now out of work because show business had been badly
affected. Many West End theatres had closed-down and people were staying away
from dance halls for obvious reasons. Evelyn Dall and Max Bacon undertook solo
broadcasting assignments after the show ‘PRESENT ARMS’ closed at the end of
August. Evelyn was involved in short-wave transatlantic broadcasts for a while then
went to Scotland to appear in the pantomime Robinson Crusoe which opened in
Edinburgh in late December. Around this time Max Bacon was in a car smash-up in
the blackout and was hospitalised for the next three months with two broken legs. Jack
Cooper joined the RAF around the same time.
These are the recordings made by the Ambrose band during the second half of
1940: [Vocal by Jack Cooper…By The Sleepy Lagoon, The Breeze And I, All The Things
You Are, We’ll Go Smiling Along, Where The Blue Begins, Star Dust. [Vocal by
Anne Shelton…I’ll Never Smile Again, I’m Stepping Out With A Memory Tonight,
Until You Fall In Love, Goodnight Again, Without A Song, Maybe, Blueberry Hill.
[Vocal by Sam Browne…Every Day Is One Day Nearer, I’ll Never Make The Same
Mistake Again, I’m Spending Christmas With The Old Folks, Oh What A Surprise
For The Duce, The Best Things In Life Are Free, Ferryboat Serenade, Trade Winds,
Softly As In A Morning Sunrise, There’ll Come Another Day. [Instrumentals…Mood
Indigo, Sierra Sue.
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Some of the big band swing instrumentals popular in America at the time were
featured by the Ambrose Orchestra while it was still at the May Fair, but not recorded.
Here are some possible titles: Big Noise From Winnetka, Celery Stalks At Midnight, Frenesi, Java Jive, Johnson Rag,
One O’clock Jump, South Rampart Street Parade, Symphony Moderne, Tuxedo
Junction, Wabash Cannon Ball.
And here are the popular hits of 1940 that may also have been featured by the
Ambrose band: All Or Nothing At All, Cabin In The Sky, Friendship, How High The Moon, It’s A
Great Day For The Irish, Mister Meadowlark, The Nearness Of You, Well Did You
Evah, You Stepped Out Of A Dream, You Are My Sunshine.
The year 1940 ended with the most horrific air raids on London so far and on
Tuesday December 31st the day after the night of the very worst of them Ambrose,
Anne Shelton, Sam Browne and an assortment of musicians made their way through
the chaos and debris to the Decca studios to record four songs - one of which was
called ‘Yesterdays Dream’. And for Ambrose that’s just about all that would be left of
his glittering career.
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VI
1941-1949
The Blitz continued throughout the winter of 1941, all major towns and cities coming
under attack. And yet life – where it wasn’t taken prematurely – went on regardless. A
kind of resilience mingled with fatalism took hold. Even so the near-hedonism so much
in evidence during the months of Phoney War had largely disappeared. Popular
entertainment continued because without some form of escapism from grim reality life
couldn’t have gone on regardless, although there were those in high places who found
this difficult to accept as we shall see later. In the winter of 1941 survival was what
mattered rather than such things as who had the best swing band in town or which girl
vocalist topped this or that popularity poll. A year earlier a rather cheeky bandleader
called Joe Loss had issued a public statement that went as follows: ‘It has always been
my ambition to have a better band than Ambrose and now that I have I want to prove
the point by challenging him to a battle between our bands…what’s more I’m prepared
to put-up £100 [about £4,000 now] of my own money to go to the winner…let the
public decide!’ Ambrose merely brushed the proposal aside and sent Joe a cheque for
£100 (which of course wasn’t cashed), and anyway Joe Loss didn’t have a band in the
early months of 1940 that was in any meaningful sense ‘better’ than Ambrose’s. Only
one year on and the situation was not quite so clear cut…but one year on did anyone,
even Joe Loss, actually care?
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In some respects the end of 1940 would have been a convenient point to end
this story of a band that many had considered to be one of the finest in the world for
much of the previous decade. Ambrose later confessed that he had contemplated
disbanding for the duration of the war in order to concentrate on talent management
and the promotion of stage shows. The income from such activities could have been
supplemented by royalty payments from the sales of his previous recordings of which
there were currently one-hundred and forty listed in the Decca/UK catalogue (and
almost as many by Decca/US). Of course this number would have declined as time
went on and deletions occurred, and it was probably an assurance from Decca/UK that
the Ambrose band would remain their most favoured recording outfit that convinced
Ambrose to stay on board. And in this respect he had little to complain about – over
the twelve months of 1941 Ambrose added eighty-five new titles to the Decca
catalogue, a staggering quantity for the time.
If Ambrose’s band now had no particular edge over other top British bands it
wasn’t the fault of the new chief arranger that Ambrose appointed early in 1941.
Stanley Black re-joined what was left of Ambrose’s outfit after being prematurely
discharged from the RAF. Originally he had been an occasional member of the
arranging team and even after becoming first pianist had continued to supply
orchestrations. One arrangement in particular impressed Ambrose - Begin The
Beguine. This was a re-working of an arrangement that Edmundo Ros had written for
Evelyn Dall. In Stanley’s arrangement the vocal part was originally intended for Jack
Cooper, and it was he who first sang the song on radio. However it was Anne Shelton
who got to make the recording, as outlined earlier. By then Stanley had left the band,
but what tickled him when he heard the record was that Anne sang it in the same key
that he had chosen for Jack Cooper and ended it an octave higher – an unusual range
for a girl vocalist.
If the RAF reckoned that the services of Stanley Black weren’t essential for
winning the war then it was the opposite for Sid Phillips. Shortly after Ambrose
returned to full-time duties Sid joined the RAF. Fluency in four languages, a working
knowledge of five others and outstanding problem-solving skills ensured that after
basic training he was given a commission and posted to important intelligence work.
For the next three years he contributed directly to the war effort but was still able to
devote some time to music. He continued to arrange, and occasionally performed with
an ad hoc group, and even composed a war-related symphony that was broadcast by
the BBC in 1944. After the war he resumed his musical career and led a number of
small club and touring bands and regularly recorded with these and larger outfits.
After Sid departed, Bert Barnes remained on Ambrose’s arranging team for a
while even though there was now little to do of any substance. One major task that
might have come his way was allocated to Stanley Black – this was to write an
arrangement of one of the very few big band instrumentals that Ambrose recorded
during the war. This was a number called Oasis, composed by a young man whom
Ambrose had taken under his wing – Eric Winstone. Eric was an accomplished
accordion player and Ambrose helped him to form a swing quartet, got him a recording
contract with Decca and encouraged his composing endeavours of which Oasis was a
major example. Stanley Black’s arrangement was, as ever, superb but Ambrose was no
longer in a position to present the best arrangements in the best possible way – the big
band magic had slipped away!
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Even so the tune’s exposure by Ambrose on the radio, and a recording (also
released in America), did bring Eric Winstone a degree of publicity that helped his
career progress. Later, he led a successful big band, ably assisted by Stanley Black who
wrote many of his arrangements.
As Ambrose’s chief arranger, Stanley Black was astute enough to realise that
the intricate orchestrations of the past were a thing of the past. Simple, straightforward
ensemble arrangements that could be played by good sight readers after minimal (or
sometimes no) rehearsal would be the order of the day. Ambrose’s perfectionist
tendencies were second nature and Stanley was well aware that they would have to be
satisfied. He later commented: ‘Bert was an absolute fanatic about the internal
precision of the band – the slightest hint of ragged playing, dropped notes, missed
cues, erratic tempo or playing out of tune never escaped his attention and his responses
ranged from cutting sarcasm to a fearsome stare’. One of the first arrangements that
Stanley wrote for Ambrose early in 1941 was Just One Of Those Things and this was
typical of the best that could be expected from this time on. It was also typical of the
output of the American orchestra leader/arranger André Kostelanetz whose weekly
network radio shows attracted huge listening audiences and it comes as no surprise to
learn that Stanley Black was one of his greatest admirers (an admiration that was
eventually returned). Apart from supervising orchestrations, Stanley also played piano
with the full orchestra when it came together for regular recording sessions and
occasional broadcasts.
All the other orchestrators were part-time and because few details of arranging
responsibilities during the war have survived it is not usually possible to be specific
about who did what, but it can be assumed that the biggest proportion were written by
Stanley Black during his tenure as chief arranger.
In January 1941 Ambrose resurrected the stage show. Because of a heavy
recording schedule for Decca it had been decided to start with a short provincial tour
headed by Evelyn Dall, and then return to the London area where Sam Browne and
Anne Shelton would take Evelyn’s place while she made a film (of which more later).
Here’s the line-up for the stage show band: THE AMBROSE OCTET
Teddy Foster (trumpet/+leader)
Dougie Robinson (clarinet)
Stanley Black (piano)
George Shearing (piano)
Tiny Winters (bass)
Eric Delaney (drums)
+ Evelyn Dall (vocals)
Teddy Foster returned to the job he had held before forming his own band. This
had been a success until the start of the Blitz but a shortage of engagements had forced
him to disband. Dougie Robinson was a promising young player who later became a
highly regarded lead alto player. On guitar, Albert Harris replaced Ivor Mairants.
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Eric Delaney, a young newcomer, was in effect standing-in for Max Bacon
who was still recovering from injuries sustained in December. George Shearing’s
wartime association with Ambrose is usually expurgated from jazz histories and
biographical notes. In fact George worked regularly although intermittently for
Ambrose until some time in 1944, first with the Ambrose Octet and later as occasional
featured pianist with the full orchestra. He was born in 1919 and had been blind from
birth. By the age of three he could pick-out tunes on the piano and by the time he was
sent to Linden Lodge School for the Blind at the age of eleven he was an accomplished
self-taught pianist. It was at this school that he received a formal musical education and
also started listening to records by such jazz greats as Earl Hines, Fats Waller and Art
Tatum. By the time he left school he was an accomplished all-round pianist but
particularly outstanding in the jazz field. After a year or so playing in a band made up
of blind players he began to freelance, alternating between band work and solo playing
in clubs and restaurants. He first came to Ambrose’s attention in 1939 and it was
probably on Ambrose’s recommendation that he was included in a part-time group
formed by jazzman Harry Parry especially for the BBC programme ‘RADIO
RHYTHM CLUB’. Later, George played second piano with the Ambrose Octet and
then teamed-up with the famous jazz violinist Stéphane Grappelli and as a duo they
toured variety theatres under Ambrose’s aegis. George’s playing style reflected the
popularity of boogie woogie at this time and he contributed a number of arrangements
in this style that were broadcast, and one of which (Elmer’s Tune) was recorded by
Ambrose.
The film that Evelyn Dall temporarily left the stage show to star in was called
‘HE FOUND A STAR’ and was based on a popular novel of the time (Ring O’Roses)
by Monica Ewer. Originally, Ambrose had been allotted his usual ‘fictional’
bandleader role but he pulled out of the project due to his ‘fictional’ nervous
breakdown in the autumn of 1940. The film’s male lead was Vic Oliver, a
violinist/comedian who worked on a popular radio show called ‘HIGH GANG’.
Oliver’s wife Sarah Churchill was given a leading part and this merely sealed the fate
of the film. The best efforts of Evelyn Dall, Joan Greenwood and other experienced
actors were wasted. However, Evelyn’s two songs (Salome and Costa Rhumba) came
over well and both were later extracted from the film and turned-up in America in 1943
as Jukebox Soundies – an early form of music video. ‘HE FOUND A STAR’ was hailed
as ‘the worst film of 1941’ by critics, and even dedicated vintage film buffs now regard
it as a prize ‘turkey’!
The stage show commenced its winter tour in late January at the Birmingham
Hippodrome and then alternated between London and provincial theatres. The evening
shows were supplemented by one-off appearances at military bases and armaments
factories during the day, although some of the London dates were at West End cinemas
and involved three stage shows throughout the day. And all the while the stage show
performers were dodging whatever the Luftwaffe chose to direct their way, because the
Blitz was still very much in progress. By March the worst was over but it was that very
month when tragedy struck the Café de Paris in the form of a direct hit while it was
packed with customers. The band on duty that fateful night was an Afro-Caribbean
contingent led by Ken Johnson and was one of the finest British swing bands around at
the time.
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Ken Johnson was killed and several members of his band badly injured.
Although it had been in existence since the late 1930s, this band was only just
beginning to get the attention it deserved and had it not been for the Café de Paris
tragedy might well have emerged as one of the most important big bands in post-war
Britain.
A month after the Café de Paris incident another tragedy occurred when a land
mine fell on a block of flats in Soho, one of which was occupied by the popular singer
Al Bowlly, who was killed in the blast. He was one of only a few top British vocalists
who could compete on equal terms with the likes of Bing Crosby, and with two of the
others – Denny Dennis and Jack Cooper – in the services Sam Browne was left as the
principal male civilian band vocalist of the early 1940s.
Ambrose returned to the airwaves in early May 1941 and broadcast at
intermittent times for a few weeks, mainly on the General Forces Programme. To make
a good impression Ambrose formed a large Kostelanetz-style concert orchestra and
gathered-up as many star players as he could, including some from the Squadronaires
and a few from the now defunct Ken Johnson band. Vocalists included Anne Shelton,
Sam Browne, Doreen Villiers and a group called the Chirpettes.
Ambrose was able to use the concert orchestra at a couple of Decca sessions in
May and several of the titles recorded were featured in the broadcasts. Ambrose’s
version of Eric Winstone’s composition Oasis was introduced during this series of
broadcasts, although it didn’t get recorded until July. As expected, these broadcasts
received a great deal of attention and critical acclaim and it was noted by more than
one commentator that much of Ambrose’s recorded output wasn’t as good. This pattern
of bursts of high-quality radio work once or twice a year would continue throughout
the war years. Clearly he preferred this to the alternative of continuous broadcasting
with an ‘inferior’ outfit.
By June 1941 over fifty titles had been recorded since the first recording
session in January of that year. Here’s a selection: [Vocal by Anne Shelton…Moon For Sale, Five O’clock Whistle, We Three, You’re
Breaking My Heart, Only Forever, Our Love Affair, Room Five Hundred And
Four, Johnny Peddler, I Don’t Want To Cry, The First Lullaby, You Say The
Sweetest Things Baby, Something To Remember You By, Frenesi, Good Night And
God Bless, I Want My Mamma, Do I Love You, A Little Steeple Pointing To A Star,
Let There Be Love (+Sam Browne), A Pair Of Silver Wings, How Did He Look, My
Yiddisher Momma, St Louis Blues, There Goes That Song Again, Stormy Weather*.
[Vocal by Sam Browne…Just One Of Those Things, Down Argentina Way, My
Romance, Every Time I Look At You, The King Is Still In London, The Last Time I
Saw Paris, Over The Hill, When That Man Is Dead And Gone, Along The Santa Fe
Trail, The London I Love, It’s Always You, Let’s Be Buddies, Falling Leaves,
America I Love You, Forever And A Day. [Vocal by Doreen Villiers…Yes My
Darling Daughter (+Anne Shelton), Ain’t Misbehavin’*.
*Unreleased.
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After the broadcasts and one recording session with Ambrose, Doreen Villiers
sang with Harry Parry’s Radio Rhythm Club Band and later Geraldo’s Orchestra. Max
Bacon returned to the stage show, which started touring again in the early summer. The
personnel of the Ambrose Octet at this time aren’t known for sure but Teddy Foster,
Stanley Black, Dougie Robinson, Les Carew and George Shearing were all present
when the tour started. Eric Delaney may have been retained as second
drummer/timpanist after Max Bacon’s return. Evelyn Dall, Sam Browne and Anne
Shelton provided the vocal content and later in the tour another Blonde Bombshell –
film star Greta Gynt – was added. Both Stanley Black and Anne were withdrawn from
the Octet-based show in the autumn of 1941 because Ambrose wanted them to head a
separate touring unit. To this end he asked Stanley Black to form and lead a full-time
ten-piece band – the Ambrose Players – that was to support Anne Shelton during
variety tours and at troop concerts, etc. The personnel who formed this band are not
known although the line-up is believed to have comprised – piano, trumpet, three saxes
(doubling clarinets), guitar, bass, drums, violin and vibraphone. Stanley Black was
replaced as first pianist in the Ambrose Octet by Norman Hackforth a freelance pianist
and songwriter.
The full orchestra now only met for recording sessions although these were
held regularly throughout the year. It seems likely that any remaining full-time
personnel not attached to the Ambrose Octet or Ambrose Players undertook session
work when not required for recording purposes. Apart from his touring duties, Stanley
Black continued to oversee orchestrations for the recording band and probably
arranged most if not all of Anne Shelton’s songs. Some records were made by Anne
for the low-cost Rex label in late 1941 under her own name. The Ambrose Players
provided the orchestral backing but not credited on the record labels. When Anne was
‘otherwise engaged’ – usually with film commitments – the Ambrose Players
undertook ballroom work and troop concert engagements and were certainly more than
just a backing group.
Apart from supervising recording sessions, Ambrose spent most of the second
half of 1941 sitting behind a desk rather than fronting a band. His fingers were now
deftly inserted in a number of different pies all connected with the entertainment
industry but not all known about. The variety tour involving the Ambrose Octet seems
to have come to an end in the summer after Sam Browne sustained injuries while
travelling to Oxford (where the stage show was performing) by train. A rifle bullet
entered an open window by which he was sitting and penetrated his neck. Fortunately
his vocal cords were not damaged but he was incapacitated for several months. After
this the stage show band was reduced to a three-piece backing group for Evelyn Dall
and Max Bacon, and subsequently confined its performances to one-off shows at army,
navy and air force bases, and armaments factories.
By the end of the year another batch of titles had been recorded. Here are some
of them: [Vocal by Anne Shelton…Boa Noite, Inside My Wedding Ring, Amapola, Minnie
From Trinidad, Moonlight In Mexico, Daddy, The Booglie-Wooglie Piggy, Lights
Out, I Don’t Want To Set The World On Fire, Kiss The Boys Goodbye, There’s A
Land Of Beginning Again, I Know Why, Concerto For Two (+Stanley Black –
piano), When Night Is Through, Good Night Again.
[Vocal by Sam Browne…Just A Little Cottage, Aurora, What Do We Care, Ma-MaMaria, Green Eyes (+Anne Shelton), London Pride, They Met In Rio (+Anne
Shelton).
Continued……
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[Vocal by Jack Cooper…Shepherd Serenade, Home Sweet Home. [Vocal by Alan
Kane…The Kiss Polka, Under Blue Canadian Skies, Rose O’Day. [Vocal by Leslie
Carew…Hey Little Hen. [Instrumental…Oasis.
US release shown upright.
Note that Jack Cooper and Alan Kane were only brought in to cover for Sam Browne
at single recording sessions in the autumn.
And here are the notable hits of 1941 not so far listed: Autumn Nocturne, The Anniversary Waltz, Bewitched Bothered And Bewildered, Blue
Champaign, Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy, Deep In The Heart Of Texas, Dolores,
Flamingo, The Hut-Sut Song, I Hear A Rhapsody, I’ll Remember April, I’ll Be With
You In Apple Blossom Time, I’ve Got Sixpence, I Could Write A Book, Jersey Bounce,
Lazy River, Perfidia, Sand In My Shoe, Take The ‘A’ Train, There I’ve Said It Again.
For Ambrose, 1941 ended with little going on but much planned for the future.
For the world in general one of the most momentous events of the war years occurred –
the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbour and the entry of the United States into what had
now become the Second World War. All the arguments about American isolationism
and how far to go in aiding Britain melted away in ‘the land of the free’. It was now a
case of ‘saving the world for democracy’ and from this time on American values, be
they political, economic, social or cultural, could no longer be ignored by the world at
large. Apart from the enemy, there were those among America’s new allies who found
this new reality profoundly disturbing and so far as the popular aspect of culture was
concerned, something to be even more resolutely resisted than previously. Love ‘em –
hate ‘em time had arrived!
America and Britain may have shared a common language, and acquired a
common purpose at the start of 1942, but in terms of popular culture the relationship
was more complex. For starters the flow of musical ideas was almost entirely in one
direction – although the exceptions were sometimes significant, like the huge
popularity in America of the British song A Nightingale Sang In Berkeley Square. And
some trends didn’t make the transatlantic crossing until years after their first
appearance in America. The jukebox industry for example, which by 1942 was
consuming more records each year than ordinary buyers. The popular dance known as
the ‘jitterbug’ – tailor-made for the Swing Era, remained a curiosity in Britain and was
seen only on the silver screen until the arrival of the first American servicemen in mid1942. America might have been ‘swing crazy’ by the early 1940s but there were far
fewer opportunities in Britain for a similar indulgence. In America radio audiences had
a degree of choice barely imaginable in Britain and any time of the day or night merely
twiddling the tuning dial would get whatever kind of entertainment a listener wanted.
Of course it wasn’t all quite so free-and-easy in reality – the major radio networks
restricted their pop music output mainly to songs emanating from Tin Pan Alley-based
publishers and playing records over the air was still somewhat restricted (local radio
stations, though, invariably ignored both restrictions with impunity).
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By 1942 the great American swing bands had become part of the pop music
scene and the names of the dozen or so bandleaders who led the very best of them are
well known and need not be mentioned, except for the most popular (but not
necessarily the best) of them all - Glenn Miller. In 1942 he had clocked-up over thirty
Top Ten hits in the Billboard singles chart since its introduction two years earlier. And
in the same year he was awarded the very first Gold Disc for his recording of
Chattanooga Choo Choo. Even so, bandleaders weren’t enjoying a clear field because
by the early 1940s a ‘new’ kind of independent vocalist was emerging typified by
Frank Sinatra and Lena Horne. And there was plenty going on away from the
mainstream that heralded very different kinds of popular music, one example being
emerging Rhythm & Blues styles.
Early in January 1942 Ambrose re-formed the travelling stage show. The
supporting band had the following line-up at the start of the tour: THE AMBROSE OCTET
Teddy Foster (trumpet/+leader)
Dougie Robinson (clarinet)
Norman Hackforth (piano)
Tom Bromley (bass)
Again, the above details must be treated with caution. There may have been a
number of personnel changes while the stage show was touring, and while it was in the
London area some members of the band may have undertaken other work.
The new stage show was called, somewhat ambiguously: ‘STARS OF THE
AIR’. Sam Browne and Evelyn Dall were joined in the vocal/comedy department by
glamorous singer Gloria Brent and actress-comedienne Maudie Edwards. Because
Evelyn had film commitments scheduled Ambrose hired Mary Lee to take over her
part as and when required. No itinerary or performance programmes relating to this
touring show have been found nor is it known how long it lasted. However, it seems
that as in previous years the show alternated between provincial variety theatres and
cine-variety in the London area. One thing is known for certain - day-time concerts for
the armed services and at armaments factories were an important feature. Although the
worst air raids were now over, sporadic attacks still took place and on one occasion the
train on which the touring group were travelling was strafed from the air by machinegun fire. Armaments factories, ports and troop installations – all on the touring
itinerary – were also liable to sudden bombing raids, sometimes with little or no
warning.
In March Ambrose returned to the airwaves after an absence of one year. This
time he was given a weekly Sunday evening slot and the shows were called ‘HERE
WE GO’. In the interim Ambrose’s many fans had to make-do with his recorded
output, which remained surprisingly prolific given the demands on labour and
materials for vital war work.
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For the broadcasts Ambrose formed an orchestra that had a rather interesting
line-up: AMBROSE & HIS CONCERT ORCHESTRA
Director:
Brass:
Reeds:
Rhythm:
Strings:
Vocals:
Bert Ambrose
Dave Wilkins (trumpet)
Chick Smith (trumpet)
Woolf Phillips (trombone)
Carl Barriteau (clarinet)
Dougie Robinson (alto/clarinet)
Joe Jeanette (alto/flute/+arranger)
Harry Smith (tenor/clarinet)
Andy McDevitt (tenor/baritone)
Tom Bromley (bass)
Eric Delaney (timpani)
Syd Simone (violin)…et al
Anne Shelton
Sam Browne
Evelyn Dall*, Denny Dennis*, Max Bacon*
Given that some players in this orchestra were permanent members of other
bands (most notably the Squadronaires) it can only be classed as a temporary outfit,
however apart from the broadcasts (which may have been recorded) Ambrose used it
for Decca recording sessions in March at which eight titles were cut. Another point
worth noting is that the reed section comprised five players and at first sight appears to
replicate Glenn Miller’s approach to such things. Perhaps the recorded items (indicated
later) give a clue. Anne Shelton and Sam Browne took part in all the programmes, and
Evelyn Dall, Max Bacon and Denny Dennis took part on various occasions as guest
performers. Press comments at the time were highly favourable and these broadcasts
undoubtedly helped to preserve Ambrose’s reputation as a top civilian bandleader.
In April Ambrose commenced a weekly Sunday variety show at a venue near
Marble Arch. On weekdays it was used as a cinema, but had stage facilities so was
ideal for the kind of show he was presenting. He introduced these shows himself and
fronted a twelve piece band presumably comprising musicians from the regular
recording orchestra. Guest performers included the popular comedy duo Flanagan &
Allen. How long this show ran for isn’t known. The Ambrose Octet road show was
still touring at this time along with Evelyn Dall, Sam Browne and Max Bacon.
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George Shearing left the Ambrose Octet about this time because Ambrose
teamed him up with Stéphane Grappelli for a separate variety tour called ‘MELODY
PARADE’. This show included Don Marino Baretto & His Cuban Orchestra – an
Ambrose-sponsored band that became very popular from this time on.
Anne Shelton, Stanley Black and the Ambrose Players also continued touring,
mainly in the Home Counties due to recording and broadcasting commitments. By now
Anne was recording as a solo artist on the Decca label, although all her arrangements
and orchestral backings were provided (uncredited) by Ambrose’s personnel.
By late spring more than twenty titles had been recorded since the beginning of
1942 – here’s a selection: [Vocal by Anne Shelton…That Lovely Weekend, I Don’t Want To Walk Without
You, How Green Was My Valley, Humpty Dumpty Heart. [Vocal by Sam
Browne…Time Was, Ma I Miss Your Apple Pie, Flamingo, Tomorrow’s Sunrise,
How About You (+Anne Shelton), The Sailor With The Navy Blue Eyes, Someone’s
Rocking My Dream Boat, In Old Mexico, Elmer’s Tune. [Vocal by Denny
Dennis…The White Cliffs Of Dover, By Candlelight, The Shrine Of St Cecilia, You
Are My Sunshine, It’s Spring Again. [Vocal by Alan Kane…This Love Of Mine, If
You Haven’t Got Dreams, Blue Tahitian Moon. [Instrumental…Stage Coach.
In May the Melody Maker held a poll among its readers to select an all-star
band intended to promote a wartime naval charity event and make a fund-raising
record. Here are the results: MELODY MAKER COMPETITION BAND OF 1942
Leader:
Brass:
Reeds:
Rhythm:
Vocalist:
Arranger:
Bert Ambrose
Dave Wilkins (trumpet)
Kenny Baker (trumpet)
Harry Hayes (alto)
Joe Crossman (alto)
George Evans (tenor)
Aubrey Franks (tenor)
Tom Bromley (bass)
Anne Shelton
Stanley Black
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The song chosen to be recorded by the Melody Maker competition band was I
Don’t Want To Walk Without You and if this title seems familiar then just refer back to
the list of Ambrose recordings on the previous page. Also compare the personnel in
Ambrose’s concert orchestra with the competition band – there are some differences
but not many.
The competition band performed at a Royal Navy charity function in
Portsmouth and subsequently made a record. Shortly afterwards Ambrose concluded
the Sunday band shows and undertook a new venture – a short-term residency at a
recently launched all-services club in premises once housing the ill-fated London
Casino. Ambrose took a seventeen-piece band into this club, but no line-up details are
available. Nor is it known how long this residency lasted. Indeed there is no
information available on what Ambrose did between the summer and the end of the
year, except that regular recording sessions took place. Here are some examples: [Vocal by Anne Shelton…Hey Mabel, Always In My Heart, Where In The World,
White Christmas, Only You, South Wind, Nightingale, My Serenade, My Devotion.
[Vocal by Leslie Douglas…Jingle Jangle, Rolling Along, Three Little Sisters,
Breathless, Cookhouse Serenade, Praise The Lord And Pass The Ammunition,
Moonlight Becomes You. [Vocal by Dorothy Carless…I Threw A Kiss In The Ocean.
[Vocal by Bernard Hunter…One More Kiss.
For some reason Sam Browne stopped working for Ambrose towards the end of
1942. Possibly he intended to concentrate on recording as a solo artist and return to
independent variety theatre work. Since 1939 band vocalists had received label credits
on Decca’s ‘Blue & Gold’ records, and with vocalists’ increasing popularity vis-à-vis
the bands they sang with, such inclusions were now deemed essential. Sam Browne
remained a highly popular vocalist until the mid-1950s and had a number of hits as a
solo recording artist. Even so, he continued to contribute to the output of bandleaders
other than Ambrose until the end of his recording career, which coincided with the
emergence of rock’n’roll in Britain.
By 1942 Anne Shelton had become far too popular as a solo performer to be
regarded as a mere band vocalist. However, her contribution to Ambrose’s recorded
output was also deemed to be important (to Decca as well as Ambrose) so she
continued in this role even though it meant a certain amount of duplication. Her solo
recording efforts were orchestrated and directed by Stanley Black, and an augmented
Ambrose Players performing anonymously under the tag: ‘with orchestral
accompaniment’.
Anne was also given the opportunity to take part as guest singer in popular
radio programmes like ‘WORKERS PLAYTIME’ and since 1941 had co-hosted the
long-running radio show ‘CALLING MALTA’. Subsequently, she was given her own
radio show called ‘INTRODUCING ANNE’. Her first film – ‘KING ARTHUR WAS A
GENTLEMAN’ - in which she co-starred with comedian Arthur Askey, Evelyn Dall
and Max Bacon, was released in 1942. When not otherwise engaged she toured with
Stanley Black and the Ambrose Players. During her absences the Ambrose Players
functioned as an instrumental outfit primarily playing ballroom engagements, and it’s a
pity that this group never got to record in its own right because it was, by all accounts,
exceptionally good.
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As well as reviving his band supply operations early in the war, Ambrose also
took steps to build-up an activity in which he had previously merely dabbled – artist
management. In some cases the performers who put their careers in Ambrose’s hands
were established acts like comedy duo Bud Flanagan and Chesney Allen, and the
popular singer Dorothy Carless. Others were unknowns spotted by Ambrose and
hoping to make it big under his tutelage. Perhaps it was to further the prospects of
newcomers like Bernard Hunter and Leslie Douglas that Ambrose included them in the
roster of vocalists who contributed to his recorded output in place of Sam Browne from
this time on. However, Ambrose also made use of experienced singers like Alan Kane,
Denny Dennis and Jack Cooper when they were available.
Experienced or not, danceband vocalists who broadcast over BBC airwaves
were about to become the victims of one of those wartime hysterias that erupted on the
home front every so often. This one had its beginnings in the summer of 1942 when
Tawny Neilson was appointed to oversee the BBC’s dance music and jazz output.
Responding to (mainly) outside pressure the BBC formed a committee to review dance
music presentation. After several months’ deliberation, the committee came to the
somewhat ambiguous conclusion that ‘dance music is losing support’. If the bands as
such couldn’t truly be faulted then their vocalists would do very nicely. The committee
– known as the ‘anti-slush brigade’ in music industry circles – didn’t really get down to
business until 1943, although in the closing weeks of 1942 rumours started to circulate
in show business circles that the BBC was going to get tough on purveyors of ‘slush
and sob-stuff’ although no one was quite sure what this meant.
Of course from the moment that war broke-out there were those inside and
outside the BBC who genuinely believed that pop music of the Tin Pan Alley kind
should be discouraged, perhaps even banned for the duration. Rousing marches and
patriotic songs delivered by military bands and Wagnerian-style singers would stir the
nation into action…anything else would sap morale and (according to one newspaper)
‘…pander to the whimsicalities of mothers, wives and sweethearts’. Even some
bandleaders felt the same way – Jack Payne for example, who altered his output
accordingly and almost went out of business, and to add insult to injury his glamorous
wife – Peggy Cochran – was one of the first to be targeted by the ‘anti-slush brigade’!
Of course the ‘anti-slush brigade’ were ‘only obeying orders’, but as we shall
see their brief also extended to the kind of songs that were being sung by band
vocalists, not just the way they were sung. And this meant stepping on some rather
powerful toes.
Finally for 1942 let’s take a look at some of the hits not recorded by Ambrose.
Readers familiar with the titles may like to speculate which songs lent themselves to
‘whimsicality’ and/or ‘sobbing’: Cow-Cow Boogie, Dear Old Donegal, Don’t Sit Under The Apple Tree With Anyone
Else But Me, The Fleet’s In, Happy Holiday, Happiness Is Just A Thing Called Joe,
Idaho, I’ll Be Around, I Had The Craziest Dream, I’ve Got A Girl In Kalamazoo, I’m
Glad There Is You, I’m Old Fashioned, Jukebox Saturday Night, Moonlight Cocktail,
Pennsylvania Polka, Perdido, Serenade In Blue, A String Of Pearls, Tangerine, That
Old Black Magic, There Will Never Be Another You, With My Head In The Clouds,
The Warsaw Concerto.
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1943 opened with an important announcement by the record industry regarding
the supply of new recordings – the raw material used to make records was in
exceptionally short supply. Not surprising because this was shellac, a natural substance
that could only be obtained from the Far East. Since the entry of Japan into the war,
supplies that had previously been difficult to obtain now dried-up completely. How
then could new records be made at all? The answer came in the form of ‘shellac drives’
– recycling old records of which there were tens of millions in existence. This was
good news for the (still mainly) middle class purchasers of new records, but not so
good for second-hand record dealers who catered for a largely working class clientele.
At this time Ambrose had around two-hundred records listed in the Decca/UK
catalogue, some dating back to the early 1930s and all enjoying sales sufficiently high
to justify their inclusion. Even so, Decca were obliged to suspend the availability (not
delete) some of the earlier records and cut-down on the number of new releases. Here
are the approximate numbers of new Ambrose records released over the previous three
years: 1940
38
1941
43
1942
20
At the start of 1943 all of these records should have been readily available in
retail stores in accordance with the ‘three year tradition’ that most record companies
adopted at this time (although even major recording artists like Ambrose occasionally
suffered ‘instant flops’ which were deleted ahead of the traditional limit). It would be
nice to know the annual sales figures for Ambrose’s records but this information has
never been revealed, nor has the amount of money paid to him in advances and
royalties (these two aspects being critically interlinked).
One thing is known for certain – whatever income Ambrose was receiving from
record sales or any other source the tax burden would have at least doubled since
before the war. And it has to be remembered that much of what Ambrose did get in
income was personal to him – it didn’t come via his company Ambrose Orchestras Ltd.
The company continued to make annual profits throughout the war years, but they
were never spectacular.
And what of Ambrose’s record releases in America? Well, they did continue
but the situation was complex. When the United States entered the war Decca/UK was
obliged to relinquish overall control of Decca/US. Consequently, the pre-war
agreement whereby some of Decca/UK’s recording artists had some of their titles
released by Decca/US – and vice versa – came to an end. However, some Decca/UK
‘F’-designated records continued to be made available in the United States. Ambrose’s
final ‘new’ release on the Decca/US label came in 1941 at which time he had around
140 titles listed in the Decca Popular Records Catalogue. Moreover, by this time two
6-record Albums had appeared – LATIN FROM MAYFAIR and AMBROSE
INSTRUMENTAL SPECIALITIES, both of which proved to be popular. Despite the
lack of new releases, and progressive deletions from the Decca/US catalogue,
Ambrose’s records continued to be featured on American radio stations throughout the
war, including the few new titles released in the US by Decca/UK. It was just about
enough to keep Ambrose in the public eye in America, and his reputation remained
reasonably undiminished.
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In January 1943 Max Bacon left Ambrose to team-up with Sam Browne for a
tour of variety theatres. Part of Max’s act was a take-off of Gene Krupa and for five
minutes or so he would bash and crash away at a drum kit as if to exorcise in public the
past frustration of restraints placed on his soloing ability. Funnily enough, years later it
was Gene Krupa who nominated Max for a place in a jazz drummers’ ‘Hall of Fame’.
(On being told this Max exclaimed: ‘Phoneytastic!’) Until the mid-1930s he was
generally regarded as one of the best jazz drummers in Europe and apart from Gene
Krupa his admirers included Dave Tough, Ben Pollack and Duke Ellington’s drummer
and multi-percussionist Sonny Greer. All these drummers had to come to terms with
important changes in the way rhythm sections contributed to the big band style in the
late 1930s and early 1940s when the driving force of the section passed to the bass
player. Sonny Greer, and others, successfully adapted their technique…Max didn’t.
Anyway, by the time war broke-out he was more intent on developing his career as a
comedian. This never extended much beyond the kind of humour that pleased variety
theatre audiences, but few others. A typical example of the patter he came out with
goes something like this: ‘Ladies and mantelpieces…what do you think of the weather
we’ve been having lately…turned out ice again ain’t it?’ He successfully toured variety
theatres for about ten years and after the war had his own radio show. Later he played
small parts in comedy films, theatrical productions and on television, making just
enough to live on. Like his immediate partner Sam Browne he should have been a
wealthy man by the time he left Ambrose, but like Sam, he was a heavy gambler and
perpetually in debt.
Max Bacon’s last assignment with two of his Ambrosian colleagues was to
appear in a film musical that was released in the spring of 1943. ‘MISS LONDON
LTD’ starred Arthur Askey, Evelyn Dall and Anne Shelton and is generally regarded as
one of the best British film musicals to be made during the war. Although not listed in
the film credits, Stanley Black arranged and supervised the orchestral backing for the
songs specially written for this film, not all of which were ultimately used. The film
premiered at the Leicester Square Theatre in mid-May.
Ambrose resumed broadcasting early in 1943 with a short series of half-hour
Sunday evening shows on the Forces Programme. Anne Shelton and Denny Dennis
provided the vocals. Anne’s weekly radio show - ‘INTRODUCING ANNE’ - for
which Stanley Black and the Ambrose Players provided the backing, was still running
and as was the other programme in which she took part – ‘CALLING MALTA’. Yet
another programme that Anne regularly took part in was ‘WORKERS PLAYTIME’, a
lunchtime show that was broadcast twice a week from factory canteens. With so much
radio work and intermittent film commitments there was little time left for other
engagements and so the Ambrose Players began a series of Sunday concerts and
weekday dances in the London area. Occasionally, Evelyn Dall and/or Anne Shelton
appeared with the Ambrose Players at troop concerts and services clubs. In the summer
of 1943 a professional compère called David Miller was hired to travel around with the
Ambrose Players. He had formerly been employed as a light entertainment functionary
by the BBC.
In the summer of 1943 Ambrose launched yet another kind of road show quite
different to anything that had gone before. This was called ‘RADIO FUN AND
GAMES’ and started its tour at the Manchester Hippodrome in July. David Miller was
the host for this ‘wheel-of-fortune’-type quiz show that involved audience participation
and prizes, and presumably some musical content. Apparently these shows were very
popular but the tour only lasted for a few months.
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The ‘anti-slush brigade’ got down to business in April and Tawny Neilson was
obliged to announced a blanket ban on all danceband vocalists over BBC airwaves
while an ‘audit’ was held. This audit was to consist of a review of band vocalists’
recorded output and in some cases personal auditions before a panel of BBC officials.
Subsequently, only vocalists on an ‘approved list’ would be allowed to broadcast with
bands. Ambrose had finished his series of broadcasts by this time so wasn’t involved in
this particular kafuffle, and star performers like Anne Shelton and Vera Lynn were no
longer regarded as mere band vocalists. The audit took place over several weeks and a
number of popular band vocalists didn’t make it onto the approved list. For the time
being the critics of the BBC (which included a sprinkling of MPs) were satisfied…but
only, of course, for the time being!
By the end of July Ambrose had recorded around twenty titles for Decca since
the start of the year: [Vocal by Anne Shelton…Every Night About This Time, Dearly Beloved, At The
Crossroads, Why Don’t You Fall In Love, There’s A Harbour Of Dreamboats, As
Time Goes By, Three Dreams, Darling, The Lady Who Didn’t Believe In Love, It’s
You That I Love, Taking A Chance On Love, A Fool With A Dream, You’ll Never
Know, You’d Be So Nice To Come Home To, You’d Better Not Roll Those Blue Blue
Eyes. [Vocal by Denny Dennis…There Are Such Things, You Were Never Lovelier,
Someday Cherie, I Want Somebody To Love.
In September 1943 Ambrose initiated and presented an important charity show
at the London Coliseum before an audience that included Mrs Churchill and the
Duchess of Kent. Guest artists included Flanagan & Allen, Tommy Trinder, Tessie
O’Shea, Evelyn Dall, Anne Shelton and the Ambrose Players (directed by Stanley
Black); David Miller was the compère. This show raised £4,800 [about £192,000 now]
for refugee relief and was one of several charity events that Ambrose organised during
the war.
It was also around this time that Anne Shelton topped the bill at the London
Palladium, accompanied by Stanley Black on piano. Unlike most variety theatres, the
shows at the Palladium were devised and supervised by its resident producer – George
Black, who in some ways emulated the Great Ziegfeld. To top the bill at the Palladium
was every British variety artist’s ambition, and those who did were regarded as the
cream of the profession.
September 1943 was also notable as the month in which Decca/US negotiated
an agreement with the American Federation of Musicians (AFM) that partially ended a
ban on musicians working for record companies. This had been imposed in August
1942 and applied to all American record companies. During the ban no new recordings
with any kind of instrumental music on them could be made except for special items
intended for use by the armed services. Recording artists like Bing Crosby and Ella
Fitzgerald were obliged to make-do with purely vocal backing and big bands couldn’t
record at all for the ordinary record market. Only one new Ambrose record was
released in America in 1943 by Decca/UK (just after the ban ended), but this was
enough to rekindle the interest in Anne Shelton (who sings on both sides) that was first
aroused in 1940.
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Ambrose continued to consolidate his interests in band supply and artist
management throughout 1943. One band supply job that came his way in the autumn
of that year involved a smart restaurant in Regent Street called Oddenino’s. To lead the
band at this venue Ambrose chose a young man who had been working part-time, but
regularly, in the recording orchestra string section. This was Sydney Simone, who
apart from being a competent violinist was a reasonably good vocalist. However,
Ambrose had someone else in mind for regular vocalising at Oddenino’s. This was
Bob Arden who had first come to public attention while singing with the popular Joe
Loss band. Bob had now put his future in Ambrose’s hands, along with other hopefuls.
Two of these ‘others’ were Rex Eaton (who doesn’t appear to have lasted very long),
and Peter Gray. Whether the glamorous and talented Dorothy Carless was still on
Ambrose’s books by this time isn’t known.
Towards the end of the year the BBC’s ‘anti-slush brigade’ flexed their muscles
once more. Having sorted-out the bandleaders and vocalists they now turned their
attention to the actual songs. One in particular aroused their ire; it was called Paper
Doll – a big hit in America for the Mills Brothers. In fact this was a revival of a song
that had been popular during the First World War, so what the objection to it could
have been remains a mystery. Anyway, it was duly banned…but not for long. To
intimidate bandleaders and their vocalists was one thing – the powerful Music
Publishers Association quite another. The ban was lifted only two weeks after it had
been imposed. The ‘anti-slush brigade’ had lost the immediate battle, but not of course
their particular war.
Here are some of the remaining Ambrose recordings for 1943: [Vocal by Anne Shelton…Coming In On A Wing And A Prayer, Johnny Zero, Don’t
Get Around Much Anymore, All Or Nothing At All, We Mustn’t Say Goodbye, It
Can’t Be Wrong, Homeward Bound. [Vocal by Jack Cooper…If I Had My Way
Dear, This Is The Army Mister Jones, Bessa Mucho. [Vocal by Rex Eaton…Close To
You, I Left My Heart At The Stage Door Canteen. [Vocal by Bob Arden…My British
Buddy.
And here are some of the hits of 1943 not recorded by Ambrose: Brazil, Do Nothing ‘Till You Hear From Me, Harlem Nocturne, Hit The Road To
Dreamland, Holiday for Strings, I Couldn’t Sleep A Wink Last Night, I Had The
Craziest Dream, No Love No Nothing, Speak Low, So Tired, That Old Black Magic,
They’re Either Too Young Or Too Old, Tico Tico, Yes Indeed. [Note: - several US hits of
1943 came from the Broadway show ‘OKLAHOMA’ but public performances of songs from this show
were prohibited in Britain until it opened in London after the war].
Ambrose returned to the airwaves on December 26th (his first Christmas radio
show for several years) and this was followed by a series of six half-hour programmes
on Sundays between 9.30 and 10pm, peak listening time during the war. For these
broadcasts Ambrose formed a concert orchestra, and hired a vocal quartet led by Nadia
Doré called the Debonaires. Anne Shelton was the regular guest artist and Evelyn Dall
is believed to have taken part in at least one of the shows.
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Ambrose’s broadcasts were well received and for their duration he managed to
keep the band in full-time employment. Here’s the line-up: AMBROSE & HIS ORCHESTRA
Director:
Trumpets:
Trombones:
Reeds:
Rhythm:
Strings:
Vocals:
Bert Ambrose
Kenny Baker, Chick Smith, Dave Wilkins
Jack Bentley, Jock Bain, Leslie Carew.
Dougie Robinson (alto)
Harry Smith (alto)
Bill Apps (tenor)
Benny Greenwood (baritone)
Stanley Black (piano/+chief arranger)
George Elliott (guitar)
Tom Bromley (bass)
George Firestone (drums)
Reginald Leopold (violin)…3 violins*
[2 violas/cello/harp]*
Anne Shelton
The Debonaires
Evelyn Dall*
*Additions for broadcasts.
This band made several public appearance in London in the New Year and was
highly praised for a number called Tenement Symphony which was broadcast and
recorded. This was the last really outstanding Ambrose record to be issued on Decca’s
‘Blue & Gold’ label, and one of the best British big band recordings of the war years. It
was arranged by Stanley Black and was also one of his final efforts as Ambrose’s chief
arranger.
Stanley Black had told Ambrose the previous autumn that he intended to form
his own band in the near future. As there was nothing that Ambrose could do or
promise that would change Stanley’s mind the situation had to be accepted with good
grace. However, it came as something of a surprise to Ambrose, and others, when it
was announced early in 1944 that Stanley Black was to become leader of a newlyformed BBC Dance Orchestra. The decision to revive the idea of a specific BBC band
had been taken for reasons that remain unknown. Unlike previous holders of the post,
Stanley wasn’t precluded from undertaking other work and during his tenure at the
BBC (which lasted until 1952) he performed and recorded under his own name, and
composed and arranged on a freelance basis.
As a replacement pianist/arranger, Ambrose obtained the services of a young
and outstanding musician called Johnny Franz. As an arranger, his abilities were akin
to those of Stanley Black, and he soon formed a similar rapport with Anne Shelton and
functioned as her rehearsal pianist, personal arranger, and musical director for solo
recordings, as well as playing piano in the main orchestra.
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Since the tragic circumstances of March 1941 when a direct hit on the Café de
Paris brought an end to Ken Johnson’s (Afro-Caribbean) band Ambrose had made use
of talented sidemen, like Tom Bromley, who survived. In America in the 1930s moves
to present ‘integrated’ bands in public got underway in the second half of that decade
and continued well into the next. For the record we can note the names of Benny
Goodman, Artie Shaw, Charlie Barnet and above all John Hammond, as being in the
forefront of integrationist policies.
In Britain it wasn’t until the war that any meaningful degree of integration took
place if we leave aside a few isolated cases in the 1930s (the bands of Jack Hylton,
Jack Payne, and Billy Cotton spring to mind). In 1942 Ambrose encouraged Carl
Barriteau, formerly a star soloist with Ken Johnson, to form his own band after a tour
with the Ambrose Octet. Although Carl continued to play for Ambrose on a part-time
basis his own band was a great success and his soloing prowess on clarinet fully
recognised (for seven years running he topped the Melody Maker ‘best clarinettist’
poll). Although Ambrose didn’t finance Carl Barriteau’s band he did help him get a
recording contract with Decca and took an interest in the development of the band. In
the spring of 1944 Ambrose invited another former Johnson star soloist, trumpeter
Leslie Hutchinson, to form a band composed entirely of Afro-Caribbean musicians.
After the demise of the Johnson band Leslie had joined Geraldo’s superb orchestra, but
had recently left this outfit to freelance (including working on a part-time basis for
Ambrose). Leslie’s band was fully financed by Ambrose for the first year or so of its
existence and eventually became as successful as Carl Barriteau’s.
Since the end of the Blitz in 1941 Ambrose Orchestras Ltd (AOL) had been
based in the Regent’s Park area but in the spring of 1944 Ambrose felt that the time
had come to return to Mayfair. In April he leased Albemarle House which was just off
Berkeley Square. The general manager of AOL at this time was Jack Davis, merely
one in a long line of staffers who kept the Ambrose ‘music machine’ running
smoothly. The most constant administrative functionary at AOL was Joan Smith –
invariably described as Ambrose’s glamorous secretary. Not only was she glamorous,
but super-efficient and ultra-loyal. It would take a lot of space to describe Joan’s roles
over and above those connected with the usual secretarial duties, but worth pointing
out that she took good care of financial matters (auditors never had any trouble
finding-out exactly what was going on at AOL). Ambrose however, was completely
clueless about money matters, except for the million-and-one ways in which millions
could be spent!
Towards the end of March, Evelyn Dall (now no longer under long-term
contract to Ambrose’s organisation) opened in a new stage show at the London
Coliseum called ‘SOMETHING FOR THE BOYS’. This American musical had songs
by Cole Porter and had opened on Broadway a year earlier. Always at her very best in
stage spectaculars Evelyn and the show in general got good reviews and would
certainly have enjoyed a long run had not wartime circumstances intervened. In this
case it was the launch of the first V1 bombing raids on London and the sudden falling
away of theatre audiences as the bombardment increased. She recorded two titles from
the show and Decca released both on a record in the summer. Evelyn retained her
recording contract with Decca (which had been established in 1940) until the end of
1946 but after a couple of records were released in the first year of the war appears to
have declined further recording opportunities until the 1944 effort mentioned above,
and a subsequent one-record release the following year. The reason for her reluctance
to record isn’t known for sure.
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The summer of 1944 was also the time of the D-day landings and a drainingaway of service personnel from the London area, including of course a large American
contingent. In May the results of the annual Melody Maker readers’ poll were
announced. Ambrose was no doubt pleased that Anne Shelton topped the ‘favourite
female vocalist’ list, and not displeased that Carl Barriteau’s outfit came third in the
‘best band’ list. However, his own band’s position must have given cause for concern –
it came in sixth from top. One important point about the bands that did better is the fact
that they were permanent entities. The top band – the Squadronaires – obviously had a
stable line-up, but so too did the runner-up – Geraldo’s orchestra. Half the time
Ambrose didn’t even have a full-time orchestra and when he did only a small nucleus
of players had full-time status. It was a case of bursts of brilliance amid run-of-the mill
output and Melody Maker voters weren’t deceived. Of course what really mattered was
the commercial fact that record buyers seemed pleased enough with Ambrose’s current
output, but even in this respect it didn’t go without notice that Anne Shelton was
responsible for much of the pleasure.
The excellence or otherwise of British bands was about to be tested by more
than the opinions of Melody Maker readers as spring turned to summer and the D-day
successes signalled the beginning of the end for the war in Europe. Since the mid1930s no top American band had played in Britain. Swing enthusiasts had been obliged
to follow the best British equivalents or make-do with a limited number of record
releases by UK-based companies. True, since the late 1930s the BBC had allocated a
tiny proportion of air time to programmes like ‘AMERICAN SWING BANDS ON
RECORD’, usually on Saturday mornings, but again these were recordings. Another
possibility was to tune-in to radio programmes beamed to Europe from America, but
these were short wave transmissions, the receivers for which were banned for the
duration of the war. Even so, names like Benny Goodman, Artie Shaw, Duke Ellington
and Glenn Miller were reasonably well known by the British public due to feature
films, cinema newsreels and popular magazine and newspaper articles. And so it
wasn’t only Melody Maker readers who felt a thrill of anticipation when it was
announced that Captain Glenn Miller and the US Army Air Force Band would be
arriving in Britain in early July.
In fact it was another American service band that arrived first, in early June –
but the US Navy Band received much less attention because it was led by an unknown
musician called Sam Donohue. Also known as the US Rangers, this band had been
formed by Artie Shaw three years earlier, but ill-health ended his service career while
the band was touring naval bases in the Pacific.
Glenn Miller arrived with his huge aggregation (the string section alone
comprised twenty players) to a more high profile reception than had Sam Donohue
although his primary purpose in being sent to Britain was the same – to entertain
American service personnel. It wasn’t long before Glenn was promoted to Major and
the band retitled the ‘American Band of the Allied Expeditionary Force’. Nor was it
long before Glenn was lured into the embrace of the BBC in the name of consolidating
Anglo-America relations. The producer-cum-liaison officer assigned to Glenn Miller
by the BBC for broadcasting purposes was the affable and highly respected Cecil
Madden, but not even this luminary could keep the officials of the ‘anti slush brigade’
at bay.
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Inexplicably the BBC declared that: ‘Glenn Miller’s music is unsuitable for
the British public’. Unwilling to pander to the BBC for more than a couple of months
Glenn eventually switched his broadcasting efforts to the American Armed Forces
Radio station that was set-up in liberated Europe. There was however one carry-over
from his brief encounter with the BBC – the singing voice of Anne Shelton.
Ambrose was the only British bandleader that Glenn Miller knew personally.
They had first met many years before when Glenn was in the Ben Pollack band and
Ambrose happened to spend some time with the band while he was visiting New York.
Later, when he became arranger for the Dorsey Brothers Orchestra, Glenn became
familiar with some of Ambrose’s orchestrations due to an arrangement-swapping
agreement. The two men also met at a party while Ambrose was in New York in 1938.
Acquaintanceship isn’t the same thing as friendship and the truth is that they didn’t get
on, although before he became successful Glenn was in some awe of the distinct
‘sound identity’ of the Ambrose band – the lack of which had supposedly dogged his
own path to fame and fortune. Now of course the boot was on the other foot…or so it
would seem from much of Ambrose’s recorded output in 1944. Anyway, it was in a
phone conversation with Ambrose that Glenn Miller confided his problems with the
BBC - particularly it’s insistence that he feature British guest artists like George
Formby and Tessie O’Shea during his broadcasts.
Although Ambrose was in no position to help Glenn Miller overcome his
difficulties some kind of gesture was called for and a get-together over lunch was duly
arranged. Glenn Miller brought along Cecil Madden and Ambrose was accompanied
by Evelyn Dall. Apart from the usual exchange of pleasantries there was one concrete
outcome from this informal meeting – Ambrose’s agreement that Anne Shelton could
take part in a forthcoming broadcast by the AAF band in place of the musical comedy
star that was being urged on Glenn by BBC officials. Years later Anne recalled: ‘At
that time I took my orders from Mister Ambrose…he never asked me whether I wanted
to do anything…I was always told what to do…and I always obeyed. On this occasion
I was quite happy with my orders because for me the chance to sing with Glenn Miller
was just like getting an award. Then Johnny Franz came round with the lead sheet but I
didn’t need it because I knew the tune and words by heart’. It was at the rehearsal for
the show that Glenn Miller fell in love with Anne’s singing voice (of which he had
been aware since 1941 but only on records). After her performance Glenn came over
and said: ‘Honey that was swell…you fit my sound’! After the broadcast Glenn invited
Anne to take part in a live concert at the Bedford Corn Exchange, which she did.
Subsequently, she appeared on seven separate occasions with the AAF band and it
could have been more but for Ambrose’s objections.
About the time that Glenn Miller arrived in Britain, Anne’s long-running radio
show ‘CALLING MALTA’ came to an end. Her other radio show ‘INTRODUCING
ANNE’ – which had run intermittently for over two years – had finished earlier in the
year. In mid-August a brand new half-hour programme started that went out on Sunday
evenings on the General Forces Programme. This was called ‘ANNE TO YOU’ and
apart from an orchestra and vocal group no other artists were featured. The orchestra
was in fact a permanent outfit that Ambrose formed once it became clear that there
would be enough regular work to justify its existence. One scheduled assignment for
Ambrose and (presumably) his band was an appearance in a film starring Vera Lynn
and Donald Stewart called ‘ONE EXCITING NIGHT’ which was released in
December.
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After the new big band was formed the tags ‘Ambrose Players’ and ‘Ambrose
Octet’ were abandoned. When taking part in Anne’s radio show the orchestra played
under the direction of Nat Allen who was part of Ambrose’s band supply empire at this
time. Ambrose simply couldn’t bring himself to front what was essentially a backing
unit. However, he was involved with formulating the content of the programmes.
Here’s the line-up for the band - the last truly outstanding outfit to be fronted
by Ambrose until the late 1940s: THE AMBROSE ORCHESTRA
Director:
Trumpets:
Trombones:
Reeds:
Rhythm:
Strings:
Vocals:
Bert Ambrose/Nat Allan*
Kenny Baker, Dave Wilkins,
Chick Smith, Leslie Hutchinson
Jack Bentley, Harry Roche,
Leslie Carew, Jock Bain
Harry Hayes (alto)
Dougie Robinson (alto)
Harry Lewis (tenor)
Johnny Gray (baritone)
Johnny Franz (piano/+arranger)
Archie Slavin (guitar)
Tom Bromley (bass)
Reginald Leopold (violin)…+ occasional large string section
Anne Shelton
Bob Arden
Rita Marlowe
The Debonaires
*Occasional replacement.
During the first half of 1944 Ambrose recorded around fifteen titles for Decca,
including: [Vocal by Anne Shelton…Tenement Symphony {1&2}, Paper Doll, Some Day Soon,
Blue Bahamas, Take It Away, Mairzy Doats And Dozy Doats, Journey’s End, Amor
Amor, I’ll Walk Alone. [Vocal by George Melachrino…By The River Of Roses, An
Hour Never Passes, For The Want Of You. [Vocal by Bob Arden…All My Life.
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Throughout the summer and early autumn Ambrose took what was now a
reasonably stable band out on the road, although proximity to London was necessary
because of Anne Shelton’s weekly broadcasts. London however was buzzing at this
time…and not just because of the Doodlebugs (the name given to the V1 rockets that
continued to bombard London and the South East of England). After the initial shock
of these indiscriminate raids had worn-off, entertainment in London began to flourish
again with a large contingent of well-paid American service personnel demanding
satisfaction while on leave. One reason for bringing Glenn Miller and Sam Donohue
over to Britain was the constant griping by American GIs about the ‘corny’ dance
bands that they were obliged to put-up with while stationed in Britain. Even top British
bands like the Squadronaires and Geraldo’s outfit didn’t satisfy their well honed tastes
in the swing department.
Inevitably, Ambrose was obliged to stick to mainly vocal content during his
summer tour. Anne Shelton was the star attraction and Evelyn Dall made occasional
guest appearances. Apart from military bases and hospitals there were lunchtime
concerts at armaments factories. Ambrose also did a number of one night stands at
West End services clubs, including a number at the Queensbury All-Services Club. It
was at a services club that popular American singer Dinah Shore appeared as guest
artist with the Ambrose band.
Here’s a play-list for a big troop concert at Maidstone in the summer of 1944: I Hear Music…Nadia Doré/Debonaires.
Barrelhouse Boogie…Instrumental.
I’ll Be Seeing You…Anne Shelton.
Roll Me Over Lay Me Down And Do It Again…Evelyn Dall.
Poinciana…Nadia Doré/Debonaires.
Saturday Night Is The Loneliest Night Of The Week…Anne Shelton.
Milkman Keep Those Bottles Quiet…Evelyn Dall.
There Goes That Song Again…Anne Shelton/Debonaires.
Anne Shelton’s weekly radio show was supplemented by guest appearances on
other radio programmes including ‘WORKERS’ PLAYTIME’, and ‘VARIETY
BANDBOX’ a popular long-running Saturday evening show on one of which she sang
a duet with Bing Crosby. Bing arrived in Britain in early September en route to
entertain troops in France. Anne’s third film ‘BEES IN PARADISE’, in which she again
co-starred with Arthur Askey, was released in the autumn. Unfortunately it was a
‘turkey’ (almost as bad as ‘HE FOUND A STAR’) and it would be ten years before
Anne could be persuaded to re-enter a film studio.
In November 1944 Anne reached the age of twenty-one. Then, much more than
now, this was a significant landmark in any person’s life. It was the age at which one
was no longer regarded as a ‘juvenile’ and suddenly gained certain legal rights that
could only be claimed by adults. And in Anne’s case this was very significant indeed
as we shall soon see. Ambrose organised a big party for Anne at Hatchett’s a smart
club in Regent Street. At Anne’s request Glenn Miller was invited and did indeed
attend. He presented her with a gold bracelet on the inside of which was inscribed: TO
THE GIRL WITH THE GOLDEN VOICE.
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It was at this party that Glenn approached Ambrose seeking permission to take
Anne over to France with the US Allied Expeditionary Force Band towards the end of
the year. Ambrose was non-committal and only promised to check Anne’s schedule
and let Glenn know later. In fact Ambrose was by now both extremely jealous and
thoroughly alarmed – convinced that Glenn was intent on filching his prize asset. And,
as it so happens, Glenn was! So important was Anne to his future plans that he even
suggested that she consider becoming an American citizen and join the AAF! (This
being the only way that Ambrose’s cast-iron contractual grip on Anne could legally be
broken.) Anne treated this as a joke and Ambrose never got to hear about it at the time,
but she did want to go with Glenn to France and told Ambrose so. However, her
sneaky mentor had ensured that this would be impossible by filling her post-Christmas
schedule with radio commitments. In the end a reluctant Anne was persuaded to stay
behind. The end of this particular story merges with the beginning of the legend of
Glenn Miller because had Anne accompanied him to France she would have shared his
fate…or so she subsequently believed.
Ambrose returned to broadcasting in November with a band having almost the
same line-up as shown above. One change was in the rhythm section where Pat Dodd
replaced Johnny Franz on piano. Two occasional additions were Billy Munn on
Novachord (an electronic keyboard that never became truly popular) and Ivor Mairants
on electric guitar. Both these instruments had been used before in bands, but still had
novelty value in 1944. George Shearing was regularly featured as guest pianist, this
being his last involvement with Ambrose’s band. Apart from Anne Shelton, vocal
talent included Rita Marlowe, Benny Lee and Denny Dennis. As well as a regular
weekly Sunday evening half-hour show on the Forces Programme, Ambrose was also
given some lunchtime slots on the Home Service. The band also participated in two
live BBC/NBC broadcasts that were heard simultaneously in Britain and America. This
varied broadcasting activity continued until Christmas Eve (a Sunday) when both
Ambrose’s show and ‘ANNE TO YOU’ got their regular air time. The day before, a
recording of a USAEF band concert to which Glenn Miller was heading when he
disappeared was broadcast by the BBC. It wasn’t until Boxing Day that Glenn’s
disappearance was officially announced.
Ambrose’s recording activities were almost as sparse during the second half of
1944 as in the previous six months. However there was one big difference. From
August of that year all new Decca/UK releases were High Fidelity recordings. The
technical name for this was ‘full frequency range recording’ (ffrr) and it was a spin-off
from Decca’s involvement with military electronics and radar. Although most of the
research undertaken by Decca was paid for by the government, some of the money that
Decca/UK received from the mandatory disposal of its majority shareholding in
Decca/US in 1941 went to finance commercial research and development. Like other
companies, Decca was preparing for a post-war trading policy well before the war
ended. And given the importance of exports to the British economy it’s not surprising
that the government approved of such things. Now ffrr was a patented process and so
provided Decca with a big advantage over its rivals on both sides of the Atlantic.
For Ambrose to have had this new technology to hand and not use the all-star
orchestra at his disposal to record some of the big band instrumentals he was featuring
seems somewhat odd, but of course this is a viewpoint made with hindsight and
anyway it’s unlikely that Decca would have sanctioned such a project.
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Here then are Ambrose’s first ffrr recordings dating from sessions between
August and the end of 1944: [Vocal by Anne Shelton…Till Stars Forget To Shine, San Fernando Valley, Spring
Will Be A Little Late This Year, Forget-Me-Not, Swingin’ On A Star, It Could
Happen To You, Love Here Is My Heart, Some Other Time, The Trolley Song,
Dance With A Dolly, Lili Marlene. [Vocal by Rita Marlowe…I’ll Be Seeing You.
[Vocal by Bob Arden…Going My Way. [Vocal by Alan Kane…The Same Little
Words.
And here are the major hits of 1944 not recorded, but possibly featured, by Ambrose:Candy, Cotton Tail, Every Time We Say Goodbye, The GI Jive, Holiday For Strings,
How Little We Know, Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas, I Fall In Love Too
Easily, I Love You, I’m Making Believe, Is You Is Or Is You Ain’t My Baby, Moonlight
In Vermont, My Heart Tells Me, Rum And Coca-Cola, Sentimental Journey, Shoo-Shoo
Baby, What A Difference A Day Made, You Always Hurt The One You Love. You’re
Nobody ‘Till Somebody Loves You.
If the summer of 1944 marked the beginning of the end of World War Two
then the winter of 1945 marked the beginning of the end of Ambrose’s career as a top
bandleader. At first it didn’t seem that this had to be the case. Toward the end of 1944
writers in the Melody Maker waxed lyrical about Ambrose’s BBC broadcasts under
such headings as: THE GREAT AMBROSE – GREAT AS EVER, and HOW DOES
HE DO IT? The answer to this question was a simple one - the big band at his disposal
was essentially an all-star outfit with an instrumental configuration that matched that of
Glenn Miller’s AAF band. Although Ambrose’s string section wasn’t as big as the one
that augmented the AAF big band its function was the same, and so it’s little wonder
that Ambrose’s ‘sound’ was sometimes identical to Glenn Miller’s (just listen to
Ambrose’s recording of San Fernando Valley). Given that other bands at the time were
doing likewise and the fact that over the decades so have many more, we can’t blame
Ambrose for latching-on to this hugely popular style.
But there was also another American service band stationed in Britain, as
previously mentioned – Sam Donohue’s US Navy Band. Now it so happened that the
Queensbury All-Services Club incorporated a ballroom with a bandstand at each end
and on occasions two bands were hired to play alternate sets. Ambrose played the
Queensbury Club occasionally and was booked for a session early in 1945. On this
particular night Sam Donohue’s outfit was the alternative attraction. Now this wasn’t
in any way a ‘battle of the bands’ and didn’t attract particular attention at the time.
However, after Ambrose had completed the first set and the US Navy Band took its
place on the alternative bandstand most of Ambrose’s boys stayed behind. And what
they heard knocked them for six! Later, Ambrose returned for his band’s second set
and afterwards, at the urging of Kenny Baker and others, he too stayed behind while
Sam Donohue took the final set. Whether this was a defining moment for Ambrose is
not really known but some who were with him at the time subsequently believed that it
was. Coincidentally or otherwise, shortly after this engagement and a Decca recording
session he temporarily disbanded.
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Just over twenty years earlier Ambrose certainly had experienced a defining
moment in his career when he first heard the Isham Jones band live. Inspiration plus
determination (and a bit of luck) got Ambrose what he wanted – a band that eventually
became the equal of Isham Jones’ superb outfit. Now, youthful enthusiasm had been
overtaken by world-weary cynicism the roots of which were embedded in his psyche
rather than his professional ability. For a number of his erstwhile sidemen the
experience of listening to and playing alongside their transatlantic cousins amounted to
an acute revelation. Five of these - star players Kenny Baker, Dave Wilkins, Jack
Bentley, Harry Roche and Johnny Gray – were already members of a part-time, partrehearsal, band that another ex-Ambrose sideman had started a couple of years earlier.
This went under the name Ted Heath & His Music, and was destined to become the
greatest British big band of the 20th Century. Was it also the band that Ambrose might
have had if circumstances had been different? This is the same kind of question that
was asked previously – could Ambrose have joined the ranks of the great American
swing bands if circumstances had been different? Logic dictates that no meaningful
answer can be given in either case and we just have to accept that despite a serious
‘comeback’ attempt in the late 1940s, from this time on Ambrose’s best years as a
bandleader were behind him. Even so, as we shall soon see, all was not lost as the
winter snow swirled around Albemarle House in January 1945.
Ambrose was obliged to form another band in the spring of 1945 to back Anne
Shelton’s resumed radio series and also record for Decca (a now much reduced
activity). It seems likely that most of the star players in the 1944 band took part in the
March recording session and some may have been working in Ambrose-sponsored
bands since the demise of the permanent outfit. Interestingly, five of these players also
worked on a part-time basis for Ted Heath who was struggling to find the resources to
form a permanent band. And it was also in the spring of 1945 that Ted got a recording
contract with Decca/UK. One of the first titles to be released by Ted Heath & His
Music was Opus One an instrumental version of a 1944 hit for Tommy Dorsey’s band.
Bearing in mind that about half of Ted’s band at this time had also been part of the
Ambrose band that recorded the vocal-dominated Tenement Symphony a year earlier, a
comparison of these two recordings might suggest that the two bandleaders were
heading in decidedly different directions.
If Ambrose’s primary asset was no longer his band as such (the annual Melody
Maker poll for 1945 listed it in 9th place) then attention has to be focussed on Anne
Shelton, whose asset status was not open to question. Once again she had been voted
‘favourite female vocalist’ by Melody Maker readers (with the superb Beryl Davis a
very close second). Now there were two aspects to Anne’s career – both controlled by
Ambrose. Firstly she was a band singer for which she received a guaranteed regular
income, and secondly a solo performer receiving a personal income which varied
according to the work undertaken. A good example of the latter was the £1,000 [about
£40,000 now] that she earned by appearing at the London Palladium for one week in
the summer of 1944. And then of course there were her fees from taking part in radio
shows and films and the royalties for the records she made under her own name.
Ambrose received a percentage of her personal earnings to cover the cost of all the
professional services that he provided for her.
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All this was routine stuff and doesn’t in any way suggest that Ambrose was
‘soaking’ Anne’s talents. These things had to be done and for Anne there were many
advantages with the Ambrosian arrangement. However, there comes a time when
artists in Anne’s position need to move-on and not only for financial reasons. When
Anne joined Ambrose in 1940 she was just out of school and still had everything to
learn about her new profession. Five years on and things were different.
Characteristically, Ambrose failed to recognise this and went on treating her as if she
were still an obedient novice well after she had matured into an experienced young
lady with a mind of her own…and an Irish one to boot! Of course Ambrose really did
believe that he had her best interests at heart, but even so his hope that she would signup for a further long-term contract when her original one expired in May 1945 was
stretching optimism to the limit. In the end Anne did agree to stay on under an informal
agreement, primarily to help Ambrose renew his contract with Decca/UK on
favourable terms, and also because he had promised to help launch her career in the
United States immediately the war in Europe ended. Anne wisely put her own interests
first but never lost her respect and admiration for Ambrose as this quote shows: ‘I
owed him everything in the early days…he was like a second father to me and I
couldn’t have had a better mentor. After I left the band we kept in touch and stayed
friends and all my memories of the years with Bert and the boys are good ones’.
When the Second World War finally ended in the summer of 1945 Ambrose
decided to form a new band and seek a suitable residency. The May Fair and
Dorchester were possibilities because AOL now had the band supply contract for these
venues. However, the management of Ciro’s made an offer for Ambrose’s services and
he accepted. This was now an exclusive club rather than a restaurant and still occupied
the original premises in Orange Street. Here’s the band that Ambrose formed for
Ciro’s: AMBROSE & HIS ORCHESTRA
Director:
Brass:
Reeds:
Rhythm:
Strings:
Vocals:
Arranger:
Arthur Mouncey (trumpet)
Leslie Carew (trombone)
Jack Bentley (trombone)
Nat Temple (alto/clarinet)
Harry Smith (alto)
Johnny Gray (tenor/baritone)
Malcolm Lockyer (piano/+arranger)
Archie Slavin (guitar)
Tom Bromley (bass)
Syd Simone (violin/+deputy)…et al*
Steve Conway, Pat Hutton
Anne Shelton*, Rita Marlowe*, Jack Powers*
Woolf Phillips
270
© kamusico
By the time this band was formed the war was over but the band scene
remained volatile, so the usual cautions apply to the above list. Some player didn’t stay
very long, including Nat Temple who apparently returned to Geraldo’s band (from
whence he came) for a while before forming his own highly-regarded orchestra. Jack
Bentley and Johnny Gray joined Ted Heath when he formed his first full-time band
towards the end of 1945. Also, Archie Slavin and George Firestone had been replaced
by the spring of the following year. Pat Hutton (about whom nothing is known) was
brought in as the regular girl vocalist at Ciro’s, working alongside Steve Conway. Rita
Marlowe, who was now a vocalist with Stanley Black’s BBC Dance Orchestra,
restricted her contributions to recording sessions as did Jack Powers.
Ambrose opened at Ciro’s in early September, and two months later
commenced a series of weekly (sometimes twice-weekly) late-night broadcasts from
the club. Anne Shelton may have taken part in some broadcasts but didn’t ordinarily
sing at Ciro’s. Her long years as a band vocalist were now over, overlapping as they
had in the past two with her career as a solo artist.
Steve Conway first came to public attention when he sang on the popular radio
show ‘VARIETY BANDBOX’ in 1944. By 1945 he had his own recording contract
with Columbia/UK and had become an established solo singer. Clearly he was not a
common-or-garden band vocalist and his ‘guest singer’ status with Ambrose reflected
this. Jack Powers’ only involvement with Ambrose’s band seems to have been to take
part in a couple of Decca recording sessions in the autumn. Powers was an American
who had sung with Louis Prima’s jazz band in the early 1940s and then became a
popular radio singer. What he was doing in Britain in 1945 isn’t known for sure but he
may have been on his way to entertain American troops in Europe.
In November Ambrose received an offer from Music Corporation of America
(MCA) for a six-week engagement in the United States some time in 1946. Ambrose
announced that he wanted to accept the offer but no dates had yet been arranged. As
the AFM/MU ban on band exchanges was still in place Ambrose couldn’t have
contemplated taking a British band over to America and the only other names
(optimistically?) mentioned in his announcement were Anne Shelton and Evelyn Dall.
It seems that Ambrose intended to form an ad hoc band comprising American
musicians for this particular venture. However, this engagement proved to be as
elusive as the others announced in the 1930s. This time because Ambrose couldn’t get
AFM agreement to his ‘guest conductor’ role, having had his long-standing AFM
membership terminated when the US entered the war.
Ambrose recorded just over twenty titles in 1945 including the following: [Vocal by Anne Shelton…Can’t Help Singing, More And More, Serenade From
Frasquita, Anywhere, The Wedding Waltz, Robin Hood, On The Acheson Topeka
And The Santa Fé, Manana, Life Is Nothing Without Music. [Vocal by Rita
Marlowe…Let’s Take The Long Way Home, Ac-cent-tchu-ate The Positive. [Vocal
by Benny Lee…I’m A Ridin’ White Horses, Don’t Fence Me In. [Vocal by Jack
Powers…Too Bad, Can’t You Read Between The Lines, I’d Rather Be Me, China
Moon, Symphony, I’ll Close My Eyes. [Instrumentals…Rose Of Washington
Square, Dardanella, Nocturne Of The Oasis, Jungle Jive*.
*Unreleased.
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The above titles include Anne Shelton’s final and appropriate contribution to
Ambrose’s recorded output – Life Is Nothing Without Music. Of the instrumentals, only
Nocturne Of The Oasis was released at this time all other titles being shelved. (Rose Of
Washington Square and Dardanella were released in America on Decca/UK’s
‘London’ label in 1947 and on the ‘Blue & Gold’ label in 1951. Jungle Jive was never
released.
Finally for 1945 we will take a look at some of the hits of that year that were
not recorded but possibly featured by Ambrose: Autumn Serenade, Cruising Down The River, Dream, Gotta Be This Or That, Give Me
The Simple Life, I’ll Buy That Dream, It Might As Well Be Spring, It’s A Grand Night
For Singing, In Acapulco, Into Each Life Some Rain Must Fall, Laura, Love Letters,
My Dreams Are Getting Better All The Time, My Heart Sings, New York New York,
Sentimental Journey, Skyliner, There I’ve Said It Again, We’ll Gather Lilacs.
At the end of December an additional series of weekly half-hour broadcasts
called ‘AMBROSE AND ANNE’ started on the BBC Light Programme. As the title
makes clear, Anne Shelton now had equal status to the maestro himself. Broadcasting
from Ciro’s continued as before and everything seemed set for a rosy post-war future
on radio. Alas, it was not to be! In early February an unsuspecting Ambrose was asked
to attend an urgent meeting at Broadcasting House. It turned out that some objections
had been raised over Steve Conway’s inclusions in broadcasts from Ciro’s and that
unless Ambrose agreed to drop him the broadcasts must cease. Ambrose would not
agree and the broadcasts were summarily axed. The ‘AMBROSE AND ANNE’ series
continued until the spring, but after this Ambrose was absent from BBC airwaves for
three years. Ironically, Steve Conway soon departed because the main attraction wasn’t
so much singing at Ciro’s but rather exposure on the radio. After leaving Ambrose he
sang on the radio quite a lot and also became a popular recording artist until his
untimely death in the early 1950s.
Steve Conway’s regular replacement at Ciro’s was Alan Dean, a significant
addition. He had first come to prominence a year or so earlier with Oscar Rabin’s band
and was clearly destined for a solo career by the time he joined Ambrose. As well as
being a stylish singer he also played piano and was adept at arranging for vocal groups.
Even before he left Ambrose, Alan had started to lead an independent vocal group (the
Song Peddlers) and after leaving Ambrose he became involved with the emerging
bebop scene in Britain. In the early 1950s he went to America and enjoyed modest
success as a solo singer for some years.
Apart from regular work at Ciro’s, the orchestra got an occasional chance to
play at outside events, for example a ball at Buckingham Palace, and charity events at
the Dorchester Hotel and Royal Albert Hall. The High Society connection continued
when Ambrose was engaged to play the summer season at the International Sporting
Club in Monte Carlo. For the eight weeks of this engagement Nat Allen took a
substitute band into Ciro’s. While Ambrose was so occupied the results of the annual
Melody Maker poll were announced. For Ambrose it was a case of: FAVOURITE BANDLEADER – 5th place.
BEST SWEET BAND – 7th place.
BEST SWING BAND – 17th place.
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Ambrose and the band returned to Ciro’s in mid-September. Four weeks later
Simone was obliged to stand-in for Ambrose who was off to spend a month in
America. Along with Jack Hylton, Geraldo and a host of celebrities he embarked for
New York on the Queen Elizabeth which was making her post-war maiden voyage as a
transatlantic passenger liner. Also on board was Evelyn Dall, although for her it was to
be a one-way journey. Since the summer of 1945 she had been co-starring with Arthur
Askey in a highly successful stage musical called ‘FOLLOW THE GIRLS’. At the age
of twenty-nine she had decided to quit show business in Britain and return to America.
By coincidence, she had a hit in 1945 when Decca/UK released her recording of a song
called I Wanna Get Married. The coincidence arose because after returning to the
United States she actually did get married. Her new husband was a wealthy business
man and didn’t want her to continue in show business. They settled in New England,
raised two children, and after his death in the early 1970s Evelyn retired to Florida.
Whatever personal relationship Evelyn and Ambrose had entered into was over well
before the war ended, and if the parting of the ways wasn’t particularly dramatic or
acrimonious, it certainly marked the end of something special for Ambrose. But not for
bands in general because by the time Evelyn left it had become almost mandatory for
bandleaders to hire an ‘incendiary blonde’ to work alongside ‘boy next door’ and
‘English rose’ in the vocal department.
While in New York Ambrose did the usual round of nightspots, including the
clubs on 52nd Street. What he saw and what he heard had the same effect as when he
experienced Sam Donohue’s band a year earlier. Only this time it was even more
traumatic because of the sheer quantity of good quality playing then going on in New
York. The gap that had separated big bands in the two countries since the rise of the
Swing Era had become a chasm just as that era was coming to an end. Ambrose might
well have kept his enthusiasm for American musicians and disdain for British ones to
himself but chose not to do so when interviewed by Leonard Feather for Billboard
magazine. Ambrose’s views found their way back to Britain by courtesy of the Melody
Maker and caused quite a storm. This blew itself out after a few weeks, but Ambrose
had unwisely been rather rude about the BBC during the course of the same interview,
and this probably didn’t go unnoticed in high places back home.
Apart from renewing old friendships and experiencing bands large and small,
Ambrose also saw some of the shows then running on Broadway, including
‘OKLAHOMA’, ‘CAROUSEL’ and ‘ANNIE GET YOUR GUN’. But it wasn’t all
pleasure – Ambrose had some serious business to take care of. A meeting with his
representative at MCA revealed that a number of venues in New York had again
expressed interest in obtaining his services for limited engagements. However,
Ambrose would first have to be reinstated by the AFM’s Local 802. Normally this
would have been a mere formality, a substantial donation to the union’s benevolent
fund easing the way back in. But times weren’t normal in America in 1946. Returning
service personnel were swelling the ranks of an already overcrowded music industry.
Moreover economic circumstances were pushing even top bands out of business – in
1946 Harry James, Woody Herman, Tommy Dorsey and Benny Goodman were all
forced to temporarily disband. Despite all this Ambrose seemed to be cautiously
optimistic and announced his intention return to America some time in 1947 to form an
all-star American band for a limited number of engagements.
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Ambrose arrived back in London at the end of November just as the thick
autumnal fog was being dispersed by bitter winds that presaged worse – much worse –
to come. We however, will take a look at the titles Ambrose recorded for Decca/UK
between January 1946 and February 1947: [Vocal by Rita Marlowe…Homesick That’s All, Aren’t You Glad You’re You, Love,
In The Land Of Beginning Again. [Vocal by Alan Dean…Chickery Chick, Three
Beautiful Words Of Love, Strange Music, Ole Buttermilk Skye, Oh What It Meant
To Me. [Vocal by Jane Lee…Laughing On The Outside. [Vocal by Bette
Roberts…Counting Stars In The Moonlight. [Instrumentals…Piano Concerto, Air
Raid Shelter, The Old Apple Tree, El Samba, Panama.
By this time Ambrose had withdrawn from any meaningful attempt to record a
range of current hits, but it’s important to note that his new releases were only a drop
in the ocean because he still had over 160 records listed in the Decca/UK catalogue and
continued to enjoy huge international record sales. What this output represented in
numerical and monetary terms isn’t known but one thing is for sure – it mattered far
more to Ambrose than the results of Melody Maker polls!
Because Ambrose no longer recorded or broadcast a range of popular songs we
can dispense with the usual end-of-year list of top hits. Just as well really because not
only had the Swing Era come to an abrupt end but so too had the Golden Age of Song
– at least so far as Tin Pan Alley was concerned. Of course some good songs did
emerge around this time including Autumn Leaves, Tenderly, and Time After Time but
who now remembers the two big hits of the year Open The Door Richard and Cement
Mixer Put-ti Put-ti? From the perspective of several decades later, it seems mighty
strange that just when song stylists were replacing big bands as the main progenitors of
popular music the public taste started to degenerate.
The winter of 1947 was the coldest on record and came at a time of extreme
austerity, fuel shortages and power cuts. And this time round the misery was
generalised throughout a still class-conscious Britain. The snow came early and didn’t
finally go until April. The entertainment industry struggled to keep going in the
appalling conditions but people just stayed away. At Ciro’s the lavish décor and
sumptuous furnishings counted for little when the indoor temperature hovered around
10˚C. By March takings had fallen to a critical level and the club was going under.
Ambrose did the decent thing and offered to forego the six-months remaining on his
contract. After a final recording session at the Decca studio the band was laid-off.
It was just after this session that Ambrose’s bass player Tom Bromley was
killed in a car crash while accompanying his singer wife to an engagement. He had
worked almost exclusively for Ambrose since his recovery from serious injuries
sustained in the bombing of the Café de Paris in 1941, where he was in Ken Johnson’s
(Afro-Caribbean) band. In 1944 he was voted ‘best bass player’ in the annual Melody
Maker poll and was still in his early thirties when he died.
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In the summer of 1947 Ambrose came close to joining his late lamented bass
player when he collapsed while playing golf at Sandy Lodge. It was a case of acute
appendicitis and after an operation complications set in, so for some weeks Ambrose
was hospitalised. After a spell in a nursing home he spent a couple of months
recuperating in Torquay.
Despite the gloomy economic situation in Britain, 1947 was the year that
Decca/UK boss Sir Edward Lewis chose to launch a new venture – ‘London’ Records.
The new ‘London’ label was intended to mix American and British recording artists
and appeal to record buyers on both sides of the Atlantic (as well as elsewhere in the
world). To some extent it was a consolidation of the pre-war practice of including
certain Decca/UK titles in the Decca/US catalogue and vice versa. This practice also
had a variant whereby Decca/UK and Decca/US also released certain of their own
records in the other country – the Decca/UK version eventually became known as the
‘Anglo-American Series’. All very confusing but that’s the way it was, and the
introduction of the ‘London’ label made matters more complex because the original
arrangement wasn’t immediately withdrawn. Of course, Decca/UK now no longer
owned Decca/US but a degree of co-operation remained in place. Sir Edward’s
intention was to sign-up recording artists in both countries and this meant that
recording facilities would have to be established in America, as well as manufacturing
and distribution operations.
Ambrose’s post-1941 releases in America had been limited to a few records
under the aegis of Decca/UK and by 1946 all Ambrose titles in the Decca/US
catalogue had been deleted. Even so, as the Melody Maker pointed out around this
time, Ambrose remained the best known British-based bandleader in the United States.
For this reason alone he might have expected great things from the ‘London’ label, but
it was not to be.
To head the new ‘London’ Records operation Sir Edward Lewis appointed an
American – Salvador ‘Toots’ Camarata. He was a graduate of the Juilliard School of
Music and came to prominence in the mid-1930s as a trumpet player and arranger in
Jimmy Dorsey’s band. Subsequently he worked for Charlie Barnet and then during the
war became an executive with Decca/US. In the summer of 1945 he was appointed
musical director for the British film ‘LONDON TOWN’ as well as an advisor to
Decca/UK. In connection with the film he assembled a studio orchestra that included a
big band element and it was during his search for an established outfit to fulfil this
function that he came across the still embryonic Ted Heath band. By this time Ted had
just started to record for Decca but was struggling to keep the band together. Camarata
instantly recognised that Ted Heath’s band had the potential he was looking for and
hired it accordingly. It was partly the fee for this work that enabled Ted Heath to go
full-time towards the end of 1945.
As part of his Decca/UK advisory role Camarata was asked to assess the quality
of all bands that recorded for the company, including those that backed vocalists
recording under their own name. Camarata’s critique was not of course made public
but it was no coincidence that from this time on Ted Heath got the lion’s share of big
band instrumental recording at Decca/UK. Little wonder then that after Camarata took
charge of ‘London’ Records Ted Heath’s band predominated. Camarata didn’t actually
dismiss Ambrose out-of-hand, and did ensure that some of his best pre-war
instrumental output was given an early reissue on a ‘London’ four-record album.
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However, so far as new releases were concerned the only future he could see
for Ambrose was to switch to the kind of rhythmic light music typified by André
Kostelanetz, and to provide high class backing for solo artists. In the summer of 1947
Camarata asked Ambrose to work with clarinettists Reginald Kell and Carl Barriteau,
and singer Vera Lynn. For these assignments Ambrose must have used an orchestra
comprising session musicians, because by this time he didn’t have a permanent band.
Here, then, are the final 1947 titles, including those recorded just before
Ambrose disbanded in April, and the later ‘specials’: [Vocal by Alan Dean…A Gal In Calico, Oh What A Beautiful Morning, People Will
Say We’re In Love. [Vocal by Bette Roberts…Oh But I Do. [With Vera Lynn…How
Lucky You Are, When You’re Hair Has Turned To Silver. [Instrumentals…Swing
Low Sweet Clarinet-featuring Reginald Kell (clarinet), Dance Of The Potted Puppet
-featuring Carl Barriteau (clarinet).
Titles shown upright released on both ‘Blue & Gold’ and ‘London’ labels.
Ambrose spent the winter of 1947/8 ‘resting’ in his Grosvenor Square
apartment, which now also doubled as an office because since his illness he had put his
band supply and artist management activities into abeyance. His company – Ambrose
Orchestras Ltd – continued to exist however, and anyone who assumed that he had
now left show business for good (and many did) was in for a surprise. In fact Ambrose
was convinced that he could make a successful comeback as a bandleader but that the
best place to do so was America…mainly for economic reasons. And so in the early
spring of 1948 Ambrose once again headed for New York.
Interviewed on arrival by Leonard Feather he outlined his current American
likes and dislikes – these included singers Dinah Shore and Tony Martin, and
(significantly) Les Brown’s big swing band. Before leaving America he received an
offer from MCA for a residency at the St Regis Hotel in Manhattan that included a
sponsored weekly half-hour radio show on a New York local radio station. This
depended on Ambrose obtaining a work permit, and that depended on his being
reinstated by the AFM’s Local 802 and the tacit approval of AFM big-boss James
Petrillo. Ambrose met with Petrillo in Chicago but by the time he left America no final
decision had been obtained. However, Ambrose was optimistic enough to provisionally
accept the MCA offer. Back in London, he awaited events and somehow the news
leaked-out because at the end of May the Melody Maker carried the front page
headline: AMBROSE – BIG AMERICAN OFFER.
Ambrose’s only recording activity during 1948 was to make one record
comprising two instrumentals (probably arranged by Camarata) – Jazz Pizzicato and
Jazz Legato. Despite their titles these were light orchestral compositions by Leroy
Anderson and the kind of music that Camarata wanted Ambrose to supply for
‘London’ Records. But Ambrose was still wedded to the big band sound and wasn’t
inclined to embrace what in jazz circles was called ‘breakfast music’. Other
bandleaders were not so coy, including Stanley Black, Mantovani, Frank Chacksfield
and the greatest of them all – Bob Farnon. They did well out of the genre, but for
Ambrose it held no particular attraction.
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By the end of June it became clear to Ambrose that the AFM had no intention
of letting him form an American band in the foreseeable future and so he withdrew
from the MCA offers. Some reasonably interesting British offers were in the pipeline
including an (apparently) attractive proposition – a high-profile residency at an
exclusive and lavishly endowed club in Mayfair.
The Nightingale – unsurprisingly situated in Berkeley Square – was owned and
managed by Eustace Hoey, a wealthy wine merchant, and had first opened its doors in
1947…but not to anybody! It was a strictly ‘invitation only’ club that appealed to an
international super-rich clientele. Aristocrats rubbed shoulders with tycoons, sports
personalities and show business celebrities. Apart from a dance orchestra the club also
employed a rumba band and had a nightly floorshow that featured a top cabaret artist.
Here’s the outfit that Ambrose formed for this engagement: AMBROSE & HIS ORCHESTRA
Director:
Trumpets:
Trombones:
Reeds:
Rhythm:
Vocals:
Arrangers:
Bert Ambrose
Kenny Baker, Freddy Clayton, Tommy McQuater.
Harry Roche, Eric Breeze
Harry Hayes (alto/clarinet)
John Dankworth (alto/+arranger)
Ronnie Scott (tenor)
Ken Graham (tenor)
Al Baum (baritone/clarinet/flute)
Norman Stenfalt (piano/+arranger)
Pete Chilver (guitar)
Joe Muddel (bass)
Norman Burns (drums)
Ray Burns
The Debonaires
Johnny Douglas (chief), Alan Bristow
About his new job Ambrose had this to say in the Melody Maker: ‘I can tell you
this is the biggest contract I have ever had…I am now going to form what you can tell
your readers will be the best band I have ever had’. In fact his fee for the initial six
months contract was £16,000 [about £320,000 now] out of which the new band had to
be paid for. And to get the best band he had ever had Ambrose was obliged to fork out
around £600 a week. A little arithmetic shows that so far as personal profit was
concerned the Nightingale job, on its own, wasn’t that good. However, given the lineup of the new band Ambrose should have been onto a winner. Even a notional
familiarity with the post-war British big band scene would confirm that this was an allstar outfit with leading jazzmen drawn from the ranks of top British bands. Moreover,
he was putting into practice musical policies carefully worked-out during his stay in
America (and originally intended for use there). The prototype was Les Brown’s big
band which featured a fair proportion of instrumental ‘mainstream’ jazz as well as
superior dance orchestra fare. Not a bad choice as it so happens, but essentially risky
due to the need to generate a great deal of revenue to offset the enormous personnel
costs.
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Certainly the band at the Nightingale wasn’t intended to be the usual bland
club outfit and Ambrose received assurances from Hoey that he could be more
adventurous and make greater use of his star soloists than at most of his previous
nightspots. Consequently, he began commissioning special arrangements of jazzinspired instrumental numbers to reflect this. Anecdotal evidence suggests that these
were indeed similar to Les Brown’s output, but as we shall see there was insufficient
time for them to become established before circumstances put an end to Ambrose’s
aspirations.
Ambrose opened at the Nightingale on 15th December 1948 the club being
filled to capacity and with the usual bevy of gossip columnists in attendance. Press
reports were highly favourable, particularly in relation to Ambrose’s newest discovery
- singer Ray Burns. Everything swung along fine for the next few weeks, especially
over the festive season, and Ambrose lost no time in re-establishing his recording
activities at Decca/UK.
In mid-January Ambrose recorded two numbers (It’s Magic and Until) clearly
intended for pop song consumers rather than jazz aficionados, although the orchestral
backing provided for Ray Burns’ vocals gives a hint of what might be on offer by star
instrumentalists. Along with the above two titles (arranged by Johnny Douglas and
Alan Bristow respectively), Ray Burns contributed to most of Ambrose’s 1949
releases. Here’s the complete list: [Vocal by Ray Burns… It’s Magic (+Debonaires), Until, Almost Like Being In Love,
The Heather On The Hill, Clopin Clopart (+Nadia Doré), It Happened In Adano,
Some Day My Heart Will Awake, Fly Home Little Heart. [Instrumentals…My
Prayer, Musidora.
In comparison to Ambrose’s heyday the output was meagre, and the main
attraction was probably Ray Burns’ vocals. Certainly, Ambrose’s five 1949 records
failed to reflect the true potential of the outfit as a major British big band.
If recording possibilities proved to be disappointing then perhaps Ambrose
might have more luck with broadcasting? This would be a particularly tough nut to
crack so far as the BBC was concerned given his previous unflattering remarks about
the Corporation. However, Ambrose’s main detractor at the BBC – Tawny Neilson –
had recently left and fellow bandleaders Lew Stone and Harry Roy offered to make
representations on his behalf. Harry Roy was particularly fulsome in his praise of
Ambrose’s new band, commenting: ‘I have recently returned from a trip to America
and I consider Ammie’s band to be better than anything I heard across the Atlantic…it
is a terrific proposition musically, stylishly and in every other way’. In fact the BBC
did offer a chance for Ambrose to return to the airwaves and starting in February he
began a series of fortnightly hour-long recorded shows on the Light Programme called
‘ONE NIGHT STAND’. This went out at around 10pm and was produced by an old
associate, David Miller. Subsequently, more radio work became available with some
early evening and daytime transmissions. These radio shows might have been an
important factor in restoring Ambrose’s reputation as a purveyor of high quality big
band music – but in the event they didn’t last long enough to do so. Even so, a
sprinkling of jazz-based instrumentals (including some original compositions by John
Dankworth) did get to be broadcast.
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After only two months at the Nightingale it all started to unravel. Despite its
reputation for opulence and exclusivity the club operated under the guise of a ‘bottle
party’ in order to circumvent the quirky British licensing laws. Apparent loopholes in
the law enabled alcohol to be served outside normal hours, and this was the main
attraction for its super-rich clientele. They were prepared to pay excessive cover
charges and entrance and membership fees in order to drink and party into the wee
small hours. In fact the club only got going around 11pm and didn’t close until 4am.
Both Ambrose and most of his personnel found the hours irksome and this was
later used as an excuse for quitting the engagement before the contract was due to
expire in May 1949. However there were other factors involved, including a drop in
attendance by club ‘members’. As altoist Harry Hayes later commented: ‘Wonderful
band but nobody came in! It was a disaster – the old Ambrose magic had gone’. And
by the first week of April so had Ambrose and the band! (The Nightingale closed down
only a few weeks after Ambrose left, probably due to a crack-down on West End bottle
parties by the licensing authorities).
Ambrose announced that he intended to keep the band together and expected to
secure another permanent engagement ‘within a matter of weeks’. Meanwhile hasty
plans were made for a number of one-off bookings and a provincial tour. One highly
publicised gig in the early summer of 1949 was a gala charity ball in Paris to which
Ambrose and the band flew by chartered plane. There were also similar, but more
modest, events at the Dorchester and a gala dance at the Empress Hall. Broadcasting
also continued throughout the summer, sometimes twice weekly. Apart from late-night
studio broadcasts, Ambrose was also given some weekday lunchtime slots entitled
‘BREAK FOR MUSIC’ and a short but interesting Sunday morning series called
‘AMBROSE ENTERTAINS’. For the latter, Ambrose brought over from America an
African-American vocal group called the Deep River Boys who became popular in
Britain as a result. However, it was Ambrose’s regular singer Ray Burns – prominently
featured in the broadcasts - who struck gold through public exposure. By the spring of
1949 he had joined the line of home-grown heartthrobs challenging Frank Sinatra for
the affections of British teenage girls. By this time there had been some personnel
changes in the band so here’s the line-up in the summer of 1949: AMBROSE & HIS ORCHESTRA
Director:
Trumpets:
Trombones:
Altos:
Tenors:
Baritone:
Piano:
Bass:
Guitar:
Drums:
Vocals:
Bert Ambrose
Kenny Baker, Moe Miller, Tony Osborn
Harry Roach, Joe Cordell
John Dankworth (+arranger), Harry Conn
Ronnie Scott, Bob Burns
Bert Torrance (+clarinet/flute)
Norman Stenfalt (+arranger)
Joe Muddell
Pete Chilver
Norman Burns
Ray Burns
Nadia Doré / Debonaires
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It’s important to appreciate that this band contained some of the finest British
jazzmen of the time. The names underlined came first in their instrumental categories
in the annual Melody Maker Poll in 1949, and John Dankworth was voted Musician of
the Year. In the same poll the Ambrose band came third in the ‘sweet category’, but
only twelfth in the ‘swing category’ - reflecting no doubt the kind of material that had
to be recorded and broadcast in order to stay popular.
Around this time some of the modernists in the band like John Dankworth and
Ronnie Scott were involved with Club Eleven. Formed in 1948, this was the first
‘headquarters’ of the bebop phenomenon in Britain. Now Ambrose was well aware that
bebop was taking hold in America and had been one of the first British bandleaders to
experience its delights in New York in 1946. Only for Ambrose it wasn’t particularly
delightful! Even so, despite an (at best) ambivalent attitude to bebop, there was always
something in Ambrose that wanted to be at least loosely associated with anything
musically avant-garde. And so, during a provincial summer tour he let the modernists
loose during the second half of the programme. Ronnie Scott later recalled that at first
during these sessions Ambrose would go and sit at the back of the hall with a look of
anguish on his face, and then a look of puzzlement at the tumultuous applause. One can
only wonder whether in the fullness of time Ambrose regretted not making more
meaningful use of the jazz talent at his disposal.
Ambrose’s aspirations ended along with the summer tour in September 1949.
He could no longer afford to hire star players and characteristically refused to
compromise. In November he announced that Ray Burns, Nadia Doré and a small band
led by jazz pianist Ray Hartley would be embarking on a tour of variety theatres. The
main attraction on this eight week stint was Ray Burns, under exclusive contract to
Ambrose and attracting a lot of favourable attention at the time. By the end of the year
Nadia Doré had transferred her talents to Geraldo’s band leaving Ray Burns as
Ambrose’s sole surviving asset from the 1949 debacle.
Ambrose, of course, was no stranger to artist management, stage show
production or the role of the impresario and it was quite logical to capitalise on Ray
Burns’ success. From this time on he increasingly turned his attention to the promotion
and management of talent, although for the time being he was unwilling – or unable –
to do this on a full-time basis.
Ambrose’s failure to make a meaningful comeback with a big band was a bitter
disappointment – a professional misfortune from which he never fully recovered. The
star musicians he had hired merely transferred their talents into one or other of the top
bands only too eager to reclaim their erstwhile assets, or like John Dankworth, Ronnie
Scott and Norman Burns embarked on new ventures involved with the establishment of
bebop in Britain. The time was rapidly approaching when rising living standards would
enable a good jazz musician to actually earn a living playing jazz full-time. Meanwhile
there was plenty of big band and session work available for those with exceptional
instrumental abilities.
Ambrose’s downfall was somewhat masked by a general downturn in West End
trade caused by a sudden hike in all kinds of taxation. The Cold War was starting to
warm up and a massive rearmaments programme had to be paid for. Clubs and
restaurants started to go under and dancehalls were obliged to scale-down the size of
their orchestras.
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1950-1971
The slump in the entertainment industry that began in 1950 carried-over into 1951, and
Ambrose wasn’t the only bandleader to suffer. However, unlike in America dance
orchestras remained a significant part of the British popular music scene. Ambrose it
seems had just set his post-war expectations too high. With him it was a case of ‘all or
nothing at all’, but ‘nothing at all’ wasn’t yet an option. He simply couldn’t afford to
retire without waving goodbye to the only kind of life he had experienced for the past
thirty years – a life in which luxury apartments, chauffeured limousines, exclusive
country clubs and lavish entertaining were taken for granted. When asked about such
things by a gossip columnist he claimed: ‘It’s all part of the show business…I don’t
really care for the “high life”…give me a comfortable chair, a cup of tea and a good
book to read and I’m perfectly happy’…Hmmm!
For a while Ambrose did continued to enjoy his Mayfair lifestyle even though
creditors were constantly snapping at his heels and overdrafts and loans getting harder
to obtain. His main source of income was now from record royalties, which were still
substantial with around one hundred of his records still listed in the Decca/UK
catalogue. These were still selling well, with a few dating from the 1930s and several
wartime titles remaining popular (although why anyone should want to hear The
Washing On The Siegfried Line in 1951 remains a mystery!). He also returned to
broadcasting in 1952 with regular inclusions on a programme called ‘DANCE MUSIC’
and occasional ones in 1953/4. These, and some minor radio assignments, and at least
one television appearance, just about kept him in the public eye.
Other activities on which Ambrose had relied to supplement his income were
now in the doldrums - a new generation of High Society hostesses preferred the boyish
good looks of a new generation of society bandleaders. That left artist management and
whatever he could squeeze out of the continuing demand for public dancing. A number
of top-flight agents were hired at various times but it didn’t make much difference.
Occasionally Ambrose put-together a big band comprising top session musicians for a
one-off concert, but mainly it was a case of short-term engagements at seedy suburban
dance halls. The depths were reached when he accepted an offer from a ballroom chain
to tour provincial dance halls and in order to make a reasonable profit was obliged to
hire nondescript Archer Street musicians for the band. For the duration of the tour he
had to endure coach trips with expletives flying through the air, empty beer bottles
rolling around the floor and barely concealed drug taking. As Ambrose put it later:
‘Once I played for kings and princes…then it became a case of one-night stands for
Teddy-boys…and as for the guys in the band…all I could afford to hire was a pack of
savages’.
It wasn’t only Ambrose’s professional life that took a knock. In order to stave
off personal bankruptcy he was obliged to scale-down his lavish lifestyle. For a while
he experienced the economies of a one-bedroom flat in Bayswater, although his
business address remained nominally in Mayfair (actually an accommodation
address/telephone switching service that was used in order to keep up appearances). To
avoid further massive debts he now had to curb his ferocious appetite for gambling and
(at least for a few crucial years) managed to do so.
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In 1953 Decca/UK released a long playing (LP) record called HORS
D’OEUVRES. This sold reasonably well and was followed by a trial extended-play
(EP) record comprising four deleted titles. The EP was to have been followed by others
when large-scale deletions of Ambrose’s remaining 78rpm records commenced in
1954. However, it seems that the fans for his old recordings weren’t eager to change to
microgroove records and the project was shelved. Whatever contractual relationship
Ambrose had with Decca/UK was over by the end of 1953 although a dozen or so of
his 78rpm records and the LP remained available until the late 1950s.
In 1954 Ambrose was approached by a booking agent seeking a medium-sized
band for the Café de Paris, then enjoying something of a renaissance due to an
unashamedly nostalgic approach to the entertainment it provided. At the Café de Paris
every night was a ‘thirties night’! The band that Ambrose formed for this engagement
was a twelve-piece outfit (four brass, four reeds and four rhythm players) with Syd
Simone (occasionally Ambrose) leading on violin. It certainly didn’t play in the big
band style of Les Brown and additionally had to provide backing for veteran cabaret
artists like Marlene Dietrich and Noel Coward. This residency seems to have petered
out after a year or so, however, a more interesting – if somewhat detached –
assignment was in the offing.
In the autumn of 1954 Ambrose was invited to lend his name to a recording
project under the aegis of MGM Records/UK (a subsidiary of EMI). The idea was to
match the success that Decca/UK was having with Ted Heath who was by now well
known outside Britain. Because Ambrose still enjoyed an international reputation
MGM considered that having his name, rather than a less well known one, on the label
credits would sell more records. It didn’t amount to much more than that, and Ambrose
only made a token appearance at one recording session. The man actually responsible
for the music was a brilliant young composer, arranger, and musical director called
Laurie Johnson - a graduate of the Royal College of Music and former arranger for Ted
Heath and other British big band luminaries.
For the MGM/Ambrose recordings Laurie Johnson chose the music, wrote the
arrangements and formed and conducted the recording orchestra. This comprised a
seventeen-piece big band element – eight brass, five reeds, and four rhythm players –
and a sizable string section that was used on certain recordings. The top session
musicians taking part included Leon Calvert (trumpet), Johnny Keating (trombone),
Phil Goody (flute), Des Lumsden (alto), Ken Moule (piano), Art Watts (bass) and
David Katz (violin).
Around twenty titles were recorded at EMI’s Hayes studio throughout 1955 and
fifteen of these released as 78rpm singles (four titles were also issued on an EP). Here
are some examples:- Slide Rule, Whistlin’ Willie, Marching Through Georgia,
Bluebell Polka, Get Happy, Could It Be, Deep Purple, As Time Goes By, When Day
Is Done.
Further recording sessions the following year resulted in twenty-one additional
titles that were subsequently released on two LPs – STARLIT HOUR…THE MUSIC
OF PETER DeROSE and LATIN AMERICA AFTER DARK.
This particular recording project ended in the spring of 1957 when the last two
(of a grand total of around fifty) titles were released as 78rpm singles.
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The MGM/Ambrose records created quite a stir in big band circles when they
were first released in 1955 because of their verve and quality. One title in particular –
Slide Rule – became something of a jukebox favourite and along with a number of
others might have achieved chart success a few years earlier. Both MGM and Laurie
Johnson came a little too late to make a real difference to Ambrose’s big band
prospects and he had no illusions about this. However, they made a big difference to
the way in which he finally departed the danceband scene…and for that he was
extremely grateful.
Another stroke of luck came Ambrose’s way in 1955 when he was invited to
present a series of half hour shows on Radio Luxembourg. This coincided with an offer
to tour ballrooms in London and the provinces and these two engagements enabled
Ambrose to form a band comprising first-rate musicians, including a couple from the
recording band. Due to its ad hoc nature this mid-fifties Ambrose band had a high
turnover, so the following line-up is essentially conjectural but does give some idea of
the high-quality talent that Ambrose did actually hire around this time: AMBROSE & HIS ORCHESTRA
Trumpets:
Trombones:
Reeds:
Rhythm:
Vocals:
Arranger:
Charlie Rowlands,
Pete Pitterson,
Jimmy Watson.
Johnny Keating,
Charlie Messenger.
Tubby Hayes (alto)
Geoff Cole (alto)
Jimmy Walker (tenor)
Des Lumsden (tenor)
Brian Wilson (baritone)
Ken Moule (piano)
Don Fraser (guitar)
Art Watts (bass)
Alan Ganley (drums/arranger)
Annette Scott, Derek Davies
The Ambrose Singers (vocal trio)
Peter Knight.
Ambrose’s mid-fifties successes didn’t herald a genuine return to the big time.
In his heart he knew that this was not now going to happen and that even a slight dip in
his fortunes as a bandleader would mean a return to the humiliating experiences of the
early 1950s. Anyway, his other show business interests were now a more lucrative way
of earning a living. Ambrose’s only remaining big band ambition was to quit with
dignity. By the end of 1956 the radio series had finished, the MGM recording sessions
almost over and the tour of ballrooms coming to an end, and so Ambrose decided to
quit as a bandleader. He was almost sixty years old and had fronted a band for around
forty years. It was now time to ‘hang up his fiddle’ and move on.
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For Ambrose it was the end of an era, but not the end of his working life. His
company – Ambrose Orchestras Ltd – remained in existence as an umbrella
organisation for a number of activities mainly involving talent promotion and
management. It wasn’t as glamorous as leading a band but it now paid better.
With the worst of the gambling habit (temporarily) curbed and no longer
encumbered by a band that could at best break-even financially, Ambrose began to
prosper as an artists’ manager. Unable to compete with big outfits like MCA/UK and
the Foster Agency he concentrated on finding and promoting new talent. This meant a
lot of time had to be spent travelling around attending talent shows but because of his
celebrity status he often wangled a ‘judges’ role at such events. Apart from talentspotting he had to place those he signed-up with those seeking talent and it was his
myriad contacts, and the respect that these contacts had for his professional judgement,
that ensured success. One significant ‘find’ came during his final tour as a bandleader
in 1956.
While playing at the Ilford Palais an attractive sixteen year old girl approached
him and asked if she could sing a number with the band. Standard procedure required a
polite rebuff, but Ambrose decided to take a chance. In fact she was quite good, and he
hired her for the remaining few weeks of the tour. Her name was Kathy Kirby and she
was destined to play a major role in the final part of the Ambrose story.
By 1956 independent television was up-and-running, but only just. Even so it
presented a direct challenge to both cinemas and variety theatres (and of course a
horrified BBC!). Cinemas had largely given-up staging variety acts as regular offerings
with films, although those with theatrical facilities still in place occasionally revived
the practice on special occasions (particularly when ticket sales started to fall in the
mid-1950s). Some of the talent contests that Ambrose dutifully attended were held in
cinemas, others in dance halls. Variety theatres, unlike their American counterparts,
had remained popular after the war although few doubted that once the television
revolution really took-off their days would be numbered. Consequently, little was done
in the way of refurbishment and by the mid-1950s most had become tatty if not
actually flee-pits. Former ‘headline’ acts like Sam Browne and Max Bacon were by
now relegated to the lower end of the variety pecking order. The emphasis was now
placed on popular young recording artists who could put over the latest sounds, which
by 1957 included rock’ n’ roll.
Now, for Ambrose what mattered were the gross incomes of the artists on his
books - in percentage terms their success was his success. The art in what he did was to
second-guess what was ‘coming-up’ in popularity and had nothing whatsoever to do
with artistic merit as such or his own preferences. So far as pop music was concerned
Ambrose came to the view that rock’ n’ roll had a significant future but didn’t trust his
own judgement in the matter of selecting potential rock’ n’ roll artists. Consequently,
he approached an agent/promoter called Joe Collins (the father of Joan and Jackie) and
suggested that they work together on the promotion side of rock’ n’ roll. Joe was
interested but thought he had a better idea – skiffle groups. By this time the skiffle
craze was just emerging from traditional jazz clubs where it had started and thousands
of kids were trying to get in on the act. Eventually managers and agents also wanted
‘in’, but Ambrose/Collins got there quicker than most.
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Ambrose’s involvement with the Skiffle Craze reached the summit of success
when a feisty girl singer on his books called Nancy Whisky teamed-up with the Chas
McDevitt Skiffle Group and won a recording contract. In mid-1957 one of their titles –
Freight Train – made it to the Top Ten, followed later by another chart success. The
Skiffle Craze didn’t last long and one can only wonder whether Ambrose would have
had the same kind of success with embryonic rock’ n’ roll. Perhaps wisely, he decided
to leave well alone and concentrate on the side he knew best.
It is of course every small-time manager’s dream to discover tomorrow’s
superstar and hold-on to him or her long enough to make a decent profit. In the early
1940s small-time and big-time managers alike must have envied Ambrose’s luck in
discovering Anne Shelton and reaping the rewards. And now here was the very same
maestro attempting to repeat the process in very different circumstances. But by 1958
Ambrose’s circumstances were in better shape than they had been for many years, and
he considered it time to make a comeback – not with a new band but among old show
business acquaintances and friends. And so a lavish party for one-hundred people was
arranged at the Dorchester with the usual gossip columnists in attendance. By this time
the most significant artist under Ambrose’s wing was Kathy Kirby – and she was
emerging as something rather special.
Kathy spent her childhood in the leafy London suburb of Ilford where Ambrose
discovered her. At school she received voice training and was encouraged to consider a
career in opera. Under the more realistic influence of her mother she switched her
ambitions to show business. After Ambrose disbanded he personally coached Kathy
until he felt it was time to sign her up and launch her career. For starters he got her a
job with Nat Allen’s band’ and then with the resident big band at the Lyceum, a
popular West End ballroom. By the time Ambrose gave his comeback party in 1958
Kathy had appeared as a solo singer at the Flamingo Room in Madrid and was well on
the way to becoming a top cabaret artist. Back in London she performed at the Astor
Club, the Blue Angel and Club Le Condor. To extend her appeal Ambrose arranged a
number of variety tours in 1959/60 in which she supported headline acts like Cliff
Richard and Duane Eddy. This had the desired effect and in the same year she made
her television debut on a pop music show called ‘COOL FOR CATS’. A guest spot on
the popular television show ‘SUNDAY NIGHT AT THE LONDON PALLADIUM’
resulted in further television appearances and a recording contract with Pye Records.
By this time ‘primitive’ rock’ n’ roll was on the wane. Some of its most popular
British exponents, like Tommy Steele and Cliff Richard were drifting into the
entertainment mainstream and some very un-rock like artists were breaking into the
pop music charts – like bandleaders Acker Bilk (Stranger On the Shore) and Percy
Faith (A Summer Place). Time for superannuated maestros to blow the dust off their
batons and answer the call to duty…or rather not, considering what lay smouldering
just below the surface (quite literally in the case of four young men already plying their
wares at a basement club in Liverpool called the Cavern). Ambrose had no such
illusions, as he made quite clear in a letter to a national newspaper that had reported
Joe Loss’ prediction that: ‘Good dance music will soon return to dominate the pop
music charts’. Even so, the rise in popularity of singers like Ruby Murray, Shirley
Bassey, Petula Clark and Alma Cogan did not escape Ambrose’s attention. By 1961 he
had become convinced that Kathy Kirby had the potential to join their ranks.
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Meanwhile there was something of a revival of interest in Ambrose’s former
glory days following the release of a Decca LP called LONDON JAZZ SCENE – THE
THIRTIES’. On this album he shared the honours with Lew Stone, and old
instrumental recordings like Hors D’Oeuvres, Cotton Pickers Congregation,
Copenhagen and Deep Henderson were resurrected. Actually, the last mentioned
recording had been used since the late 1950s to introduce a popular television show
called ‘ALL OUR YESTERDAYS’.
Further interest in Ambrose was boosted in 1960 when the BBC broadcast a
documentary programme called ‘THE BERT AMBROSE STORY’, and the following
year a ‘pilot’ programme called ‘THE AMBROSE BAND SHOW’ was recorded. This
was produced by John Hooper, and Sid Phillips wrote the arrangements, composed a
special instrumental number and directed the band. The recording was broadcast on
Boxing Day 1961, but the series it was intended to herald never materialised. One of
the singers taking part in the broadcast was Ken Kirkham who went on to be a
successful stage and television artist.
Shortly after the broadcast EMI again invited Ambrose to lend his name to an
LP that would appeal to ballroom dancers rather than big band fans. Called DANCE
AGAIN WITH AMBROSE this album was subsequently released on the ‘Parlophone’
label.
Ambrose’s album came at a time when the kind of popular dancing that he had
provided so much music for throughout his band leading career was just starting to be
replaced by the new cult of disco-dancing. Little has been said about popular dancing
styles since the early part of this account because in essence little really changed.
Cheek-to-cheek dancing was the norm and the only steps that the average dancer could
manage were those based on the waltz and foxtrot. Since the 1920s only bands playing
for dedicated ballroom dancers would dare to stray from a diet of waltzes, foxtrots,
slow foxtrots and quicksteps, with the odd rumba and tango permitted because foxtrotlike steps could be used for these dances also. Of course there had been eruptions like
the lindy hop and its offspring the jitterbug but the longevity of these dances was
confined to a relatively small section of ballroom dancers, and jitterbugging had been
discouraged especially in British ballrooms. Like variety theatres, public dancehalls of
the conventional kind were on the way out by the mid-1960s. The market for public
dancing was becoming dominated by the requirements of a strong youth culture that
preferred the ambience of the discotheque and a free-style rock-inspired dancing that
precluded the middle-aged. New dances such the cha-cha-cha, mambo and bossa-nova
became popular in the late 1950s, but their main effect was on the kind of music that
we now know as ‘easy listening’. On the whole, the adult population preferred to stay
at home and watch exotic dance steps performed by experienced ballroom dancers on
television shows like ‘COME DANCING’.
On television in the early 1960s there were still occasional programmes
devoted to big band music and the BBC retained the services of a superb outfit called
the Northern Dance Orchestra (directed by Alyn Ainsworth). The acerbic-as-ever Jack
Payne presented a television series that involved a reasonably stylish big band, and the
affable-as-ever Billy Cotton hosted a popular and long-running television variety show
based around his show band. By this time such programmes appealed mainly to those
too old to appreciate the new rhythmic and vocal styles that teenagers clearly preferred,
and would continue to prefer when they left their teen years behind.
© kamusico
286
Ambrose undoubtedly shared the musical tastes of the older generation but was
nevertheless obliged to watch certain television programmes that attracted a mainly
youthful audience. Shows like ‘JUKEBOX JURY’ and ‘TOP OF THE POPS’ were of
particular importance to him because by 1963 his protégé Kathy Kirby was very much
part of the pop music mainstream. Her first chart entry came in the summer of 1963
after she had switched to the Decca label, and had appeared regularly in a popular
television variety show called ‘STARS & GARTERS’. With the Beatles at #1, Kathy
reached a respectable #11 in the UK Top Twenty chart with a song called Dance On.
This had been an instrumental hit earlier in the year for a rock-influenced guitar band
called the Shadows (genuinely admired by Ambrose). Later in the year she reached #4
with a cover version of Secret Love, a song popularised ten years earlier by Doris Day
but given a ‘sixties pop treatment by Kathy. And at the end of the year she was voted
Top British Female Singer in a New Musical Express readers’ poll.
By the time Kathy Kirby started to make it big in 1963 Ambrose had jettisoned
all his other artists in order to concentrate on promoting her career. And as her income
increased so did his percentage take and he too was back in the big time – at least
financially. Despite these successes there was a degree of tension behind the scenes.
Kathy wanted to follow Petula Clark’s example and run with the emerging rock-pop
fast-trackers like Dusty Springfield, Lulu, Cilla Black, and Marianne Faithful – all of
whom were dominating the charts along with bands like the Beatles, the Dave Clark
Five and the Rolling Stones. Ambrose felt that there could be no long-term future for
Kathy if she moved too far away from what we would now call ‘easy listening’ music.
He was particularly anxious to avoid any close working association between Kathy and
popular male rock bands and such phobias came to the attention of those only too eager
to draw comparisons between him and the deranged thug-manager character in the
Doris Day film ‘LOVE ME OR LEAVE ME’ (based on the life of American singing star
Ruth Etting). Unfortunately Ambrose came close to deserving the comparison and
Kathy certainly lacked Ruth Etting’s strength of character.
In 1964 a BBC television series called ‘KATHY KIRBY SINGS’ started and
she had two entries in the UK Top Twenty chart. Later the same year she appeared in
the Royal Variety Show at the London Palladium. Now billed as the Golden Girl of
British Pop, Kathy was earning big money, which meant that Ambrose was also doing
very nicely thank you! Once again the opulence of Mayfair beckoned seductively and
Ambrose moved into an apartment just off Park Lane. Kathy’s pop career peaked in
1965 when she was selected to represent Britain in the Eurovision Song Contest. Her
Eurovision song was a number called I Belong and that year the finals of the contest
were held in Milan. She came second - only marginally beaten by the winning entry.
After 1965 Kathy’s recording career moved in a different direction. With Lulu
and Marianne Faithful on their books, Decca/UK came to the same conclusion as
Ambrose regarding the kind of record buyer she should cater for. Kathy continued to
sing the kind of songs that did indeed appeal to those disinclined to embrace the wilder
themes of the Swinging Sixties – and she remained popular with middle-of-the-road
audiences. However, the highly lucrative chart-dominated pop scene had become a
thing of the past by the late 1960s. From this time on she was obliged to concentrate on
live cabaret performances at increasingly less prestigious venues and for a lot less
money.
© kamusico
287
Despite Kathy Kirby’s high earnings during the mid-sixties (around £5,000,000
between 1964 and 1967!) there was little to show for it by the end of the decade. Once
again for Ambrose it was bye-bye to Mayfair and this time the destination was a nondescript tower block overlooking Moorgate Station.
Perhaps it was reduced circumstances that made Ambrose somewhat sceptical
about the revival LPs that Decca released in the late 1960s, although an earlier one had
his full co-operation. This was called AMBROSE – TRIBUTE TO COLE PORTER and
was released some months after the famous songwriter died in 1964. This album
clocked-up healthy sales at home and in America. An LP of Ambrose’s early 1930s
HMV titles was also released in America around the same time. Even so, Ambrose
remained dismissive of the revival of interest in big bands and especially the music of
Glenn Miller in the late 1960s, even though this interest was sufficiently strong to
support the formation of a British band led by Syd Lawrence that played in the Miller
style.
At the end of the 1960s Ambrose was approaching his mid-seventies and was
no longer mentally alert. Logic suggested that it was time to pass responsibility for
Kathy Kirby’s faltering career over to someone else. Her ambition to break into films
had come to nothing (probably because of Ambrose’s opposition) and her main source
of income was now from personal appearances on the ‘cabaret circuit’ – particularly at
Northern working men’s clubs where she remained popular. Such work meant
gruelling touring schedules and being away from home for much of the time; an
unwelcome prospect for someone of Ambrose’s age. However, for several reasons he
felt unable to relinquish his manager/agent role and carried on regardless. In the spring
of 1971 he suffered a stroke and spent some time in a nursing home and then spent
some time in the West Indies recuperating. Ambrose, apparently recovered, then
returned to London and resumed his managerial duties. However, while on tour with
Kathy in the North East he accompanied her to a television studio in Leeds where she
was to appear as guest singer in Les Dawson’s Yorkshire TV show ‘SEZ LEZ’. It was
during the rehearsal for this show on June 11th that he collapsed and later the same day
died in hospital.
Ambrose’s death received little attention from the media and his funeral was a
low-key affair attended by Kathy and a few ex-colleagues like Sid Phillips, Tommy
McQuater, George Chisholm and Billy Amstell.
Thirty-five years later a number of Ambrose’s remaining admirers gathered
outside the May Fair Hotel where a plaque was unveiled commemorating his time
working and living there.
Now, in 2012, only one member of Ambrose’s great ‘thirties band remains to
tell the tale – Dame Vera Lynn; the last in a very long line of highly talented singers,
musicians, arrangers and ancillary staff that made ‘Ambrose and his Orchestra’ an
international brand name for musical entertainment of the highest order.
*****************************
© kamusico
BAND LINE-UP INDEX
THE AMBROSE ORCHESTRA
1923
1926
1927
1928
1929
1931
1932
1933
1934
1935
1936
1937
1938
1939
1940
1942
1944
1945
1949
1955
18
28
42
55
66
89
112
126
141
148
156
179
195
219
231
252
260
269
267
282
50
102
166/7
199
225
238
264
278
AMBROSE SWING SEXTET
1938
194
214
AMBROSE OCTET (STAGE SHOW BAND)
1939
1941
1942
216
246
251
AMBROSE (JAZZ) OCTET
1939
1940
217
232
AMBROSE’S BLUE LYRES
1929
1931
1932
1933
1935
1940
67/8
94
113
130
148
232
288
289
© kamusico
PERSONNEL INDEX
ABERLADO, Lou
ACRES, Sam
AHLOA, Sylvester
AMSTELL, Billy
ARDEN, Bob
ARNOLD, Phil
66
50
56
103
259
93
BACON, Max
BALL, Dick
BARNES, Bert
BERKIN, Jules
BIFFO, Frank
BISHOP, Neville
BLACK, Stanley
BLADES, James
BRANNELLY, Joe
BRANNELLY, Les
BREED, Pearly
BREEZE, Eric
BRETHERTON, Fred
BROMLEY, Tom
BROWN, Jim
BROWNE, Sam
BURNS, Ray
102
218
232
287
44
127
135
28
29
103
201/2
201
44
159
50
157
111
261
157
77
277-9
238
249
257
145
151
180
226
236 245/6
147
167
CAREW, Leslie
CARLISLE, Elsie
CARLYLE COUSINS
CARROLL, Eddie
CARSON SISTERS
CHISHOLM, George
COLE, Norman
COLIN, Sid
CONWAY, Steve
COOPER, Jack
CRAIG, Archie
CROSSMAN, Joe
CUMMINGS, Jock
157
109
104
134
108
200
180
229
270/1
147
200
29
226
211
147
117
127
DALL, Evelyn
DANKWORTH, John
DAVIS, Lew
DEAN, Alan
(THE) DEBONAIRES
DELANEY, Eric
147-9 178
278/9
141
167
271
259
265
247
166 188
178 197
56
198/9
199
245
249
260
198
212
273
193
254
205/6 229
237
236
201
167
243
209/10
179
276
278
243
261
272
290
© kamusico
DENNIS, Denny
DORÉ, Nadia
209
259
209
278
216
ELEZALDE, Fred
ERARD, Clive
ESCOTT, Dick
42
167
42
44
FALLON, Jack
FFRENCH, Clinton
FORESYTHE, Reginald
FOSTER, Teddy
FRANZ, Johnny
159
156
135
156
260
GOLDBERG, Max
GROSSBART, Eddie
68
55
HEATH, Ted
HACKFORTH, Norman
HAMILTON SISTERS
HARRIS, Albert
HOLMES, Leslie
HOWARD, Helen
HUNT, K.P.
56
111 155
249
47
167 199
{See under BRANNELLY, Les}
147
69
159
JEANETTE, Joe
56
121
243
KANE, Alan
KHAN, Leo
KIRBY, Kathy
194
50
283
209
57
284
286/7
LALLY, Arthur
LEE, Mary
LEVINE, Henry
LEWIS, Ernie
LEWIS, Harry
LISBONA, Eddie
LOGAN, Ella
LYNN, Vera
57
237
40
55
226
167
81
172/3
275
67
240
43
103
90
251
193
103
189
287
200/1
MACAULEY
MAIRANTS, Ivor
MANHATTAN TRIO
MANUS, Bill
MARSH, Alan
MARLOWE, Rita
MARTIN, Louis
McCAFFER, Don
McCARTHY, Jack
236
201 226
{See under RHYTHM BROS}
201
194
264
43
156 166
157 166
166
246
102
155
223
180
254
113
167
193/4 212
222
229
237/8 241
291
© kamusico
McDEVITT, Andy
McQUATER, Tommy
MILLER, Billy
MILLER, David
MILLER, Jimmy
MIRANDA, Jack
MUNRO, Ronnie
NOAKES, Alfie
NOBLE, Ray
157
167
201
257
201
43
29
167
41
OWEN, Harry
103
PETRIE, Cecile
PHILLIPS, Sid
PHILLIPS, Van
PHILLIPS, Woolf
POLO, Danny
POSNACK, George
PURSLGLOVE, Reg
117
83
245
58
157
67
43
127
RATCLIFFE, Dennis
READ, Bert
HENRY Rederman
REIS, Les
(THE) RHYTHM BROS.
(THE) RHYTHM GIRLS
ROBINSON, Dougie
ROBINS, Phyllis
ROS, Edmundo
RUSH, Peter
50
57
44
55
142
127
246
103/4
226
113
SANDIFORD, George
SCOTT, Ronnie
SHEARING, George
SHELTON, Anne
SIMPSON, Jack
SIMONE (Syd)
SINCLAIRE, Teddy
SINGER, Harry
SMITH, Chester
SMITH, Joan
SONIN, Ray
STARITA, Al
STEWART, Donald
STONE, Lew
STRAUSS, Art
STUTLEY, Don
216
278/9
247
252/3
239/40 254 257/8 263
127
167 199
259
271
109
127
180
261
280
142
167
77
80
147
41
84
89
201
226
121
236
287
277
167
169
179
90
285
142
287
157
200
83
111
209
145
153
134
201
179
180/1 191-3 204
157
108/9 121
229 236
265/6 268-71
292
© kamusico
THORPE, Tony
(THE) THREE GINX
TRAFFORD, J & F
VILLIERS, Doreen
(THE) VOCAL THREE
68
WEBSTER, Tom
WELCH, Elisabeth
WHISKEY, Nancy
WHITE, Teddy
WILLIAMS, Al
WINTERS, Tiny
(THE) WRIGHT BROS.
226
129
284
200
159
180
157
YORKE, Peter
104
112
104
155
108
117
126
167
236 249
54/55
136/7
236
284
********************************************************
THE END

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