Benny Golson: From Coltrane & Blakey to Mission Impossible

Jazz icon, NEA Jazz Master, and composer Benny Golson (who celebrated his 90th birthday during the cruise) sits down with SiriusXM's Eulis Cathey aboard The Jazz Cruise 2019 to share candid stories from his unparalleled career,,. Golson recounts growing up in Philadelphia, his path from aspiring concert pianist to saxophone legend, his pivotal, early relationship with John Coltrane (including the famous "Sunny Side of the Street" anecdote), his time with Art Blakey and the Jazz Messengers (including the origin of "Blues March"), and his move to Hollywood to score films like Mission Impossible.

Key Takeaways

• Early Musical Start: Golson started taking piano lessons at age 9 for 75 cents an hour, initially aiming to become a concert pianist,.
• The Switch to Saxophone: After skipping school to see the Lionel Hampton band at the Earl Theater, he was mesmerized by a saxophone solo, leading him to tell his mother he wanted to play jazz saxophone,,. His mother eventually bought him a brand new Martin saxophone for a dollar down.
• The Coltrane Encounter: As a teenager, he met John Coltrane—then described as a "country bumpkin"—who sounded just like Johnny Hodges,. Golson's mother was so impressed she would only ask Coltrane to play On the Sunny Side of the Street, much to the annoyance of the young musicians who were trying to play the music of Charlie Parker,.
• The Prophecy: After Golson and Coltrane were fired from the local band Jimmy Johnson and his Ambassadors, Golson's mother, who was suspicious because the gig was canceled only two hours beforehand, comforted them with the prophecy: "One day the two of you will be so good they won't have enough money to pay you",. This prophecy proved true years later at the Newport Festival.
• Mentorship and Blues March: While working with the R&B band Bull Moose Jackson and his Buffalo Bearcats, he was mentored in composing by piano player Tad Damarind,. Later, as a member of Art Blakey and the Jazz Messengers, he suggested that Blakey get a new band, recommending a Philadelphia lineup including Lee Morgan and Bobby Timmons, leading Blakey to joke, "What is this Philadelphia crap I'm hearing?". Golson also famously suggested that Blakey start his set with a march, which became the hit "Blues March",.
• "I Remember Clifford": Golson noted that it took him two weeks to write the song, a process much slower than his typical output of two or three songs a day. He stated, "I wish I hadn't written that song," explaining he meant he regretted the death of Clifford Brown that necessitated its creation.
• Hollywood Career: Encouraged by Quincy Jones, Golson moved to LA and scored films and TV shows, starting with It Takes a Thief and later moving on to Mission Impossible, The Partridge Family, and MASH. He once compensated for a reduced string section by hiding an organist in the arrangement.

• Listen to more episodes of Jazz Cruises Conversations on Spotify, iTunes, or wherever you get your podcasts. The back catalog contains more than a hundred interviews from past sailings.
• Theme Music: Provided by Marcus Miller from his song "High Life" on his album Afrodeezia on Blue Note.

Transcript

A transcript of the conversation between jazz legend Benny Golson and SiriusXM's Eulis Cathey, recorded during The Jazz Cruise 2019, is provided below.

(Preamble/Sponsor)

A quick word from our sponsors. This week's episode of Jazz Cruise Conversations is sponsored by SF Jazz. Founded by Randall Klein more than 35 years ago, SF Jazz has established itself as one of the world's most important jazz presenters and institutions. In addition to promoting concerts and education programs around the Bay Area, SF Jazz now has a remarkable space. The 36,000 square foot SF Jazz Center at Franklin and Fell Streets opened in 2013. There they present a full schedule of concerts, workshops, and teaching sessions. Performing there in the next few months are Anat Cohen, Joe Levano, and John Scoffield. Learn more at sfjazz.org.

(Introduction by Host Lee Mergner)

Hi, welcome to Jazz Cruise Conversations podcast presented by Entertainment Cruise Productions. I'm your host Lee Mergner. Every week we present a different conversation pulled from one of our Jazz Cruises, The Jazz Cruise, Blue Note at Sea, or The Smooth Jazz Cruise. This week's episode features an interview with the jazz legend Benny Golson in front of a live audience during the Jazz Cruise 2019. The saxophonist and composer turned 90 during the cruise. The Jazz Cruise celebrates its 20th anniversary in 2020.

(Conversation Begins)

Eulis Cathey: Good afternoon everyone. Welcome back to the rendezvous lounge during the 2019 Jazz Cruise. I'm assuming that everybody's having a wonderful time.

Audience: Absolutely.

Eulis Cathey: I thought it would be safe to make that assumption. I'm Ula Scathy from SiriusXM's Real Jazz channel and I'm certainly happy to be on board. This is the first time time for me. And this is an honor for me this afternoon as we continue our conversations in this nice intimate setting to be able to talk to and share this conversation with you with one of the greatest tennis saxophonists, composers, and arrangers and educators that this music has quite frankly ever seen. He is an NEA jazz master. Please welcome the great Benny Golson.

Benny Golson: Thank you so much.

Eulis Cathey: Well, Benny, the city of brotherly love, your hometown. Tell us about your beginnings. So, when did you first get involved in music?

Benny Golson: First of all, I'd like to say it seems like half the ship is from Philadelphia. Everybody I run into is from Philadelphia. Yeah, you know, saxophone wasn't my first instrument. I had two uncles that played piano. My mother's brother and her brother-in-law. And at eight or nine years old, I thought these guys were geniuses.

Eulis Cathey: Now, how old were you then?

Benny Golson: 9 years old. And uh she says, "I'll speak to her and maybe he can come up here". This is a long time ago. Piano teachers don't come around to your house anymore. You have to go find them. But he came and each time he came, he gave me an hour for the amazing amount of 75 cents. 75 cents a lesson and came to the house. Wow. Jay Walker frame and I started start the piano and I got so involved in it after a couple of years I really felt that I wanted to be a concert pianist. And in the ghetto everybody was chuckling about that.

My mother's brother-in-law said—and he—Oh, this is something else, too. I have to tell you. That uncle called me Sammy. My mother called me Junior. My father called me Dick. I didn't know who I was. Nobody called me Benny. Most of the relatives are gone now. But years ago, as a grown man, I'd go around and they still call me Junior. He said, "Because he you remind me of a friend of mine. He He's a piano tuner and his name was Sammy Johnson". Sometimes he'd call me the whole name, Sammy Johnson. I didn't know who I was, but yeah, I thought I wanted to be a concert pianist. And I I went at it assiduously. The other kids were out in the street playing stick ball and this and that. And I was at that piano practicing and practicing. And after a while, let's see, how old was I? I must have been about 13 or 14. My teacher used to send me to the women, the black women used to have on Sunday, they'd put on some kind of an affair, you know, and I would be the piano player. Nobody was listening to me. I was just practicing.

And then a strange thing happened. I was in junior high school and the kids were talking about a band that had come to town. Lionel Hampton was appearing at what was the name of that theater? The Earl Theater 11th in Market and they were raving about Lionel Hampton. So one day I didn't go to school. I went to the Earl Theater and I'd never heard a live band in my life. And when I got there, it was intermission. Then suddenly the organ stopped playing and the spotlight began to show on the closed curtain. Then I heard this band playing. I didn't know what to expect. And then the curtain was slowly opening and I saw increments of saxophones, the trombones, and the trumpet. Then it opened wider and there was a piano player on the left and this guy standing in front of a set of vibraphones. I didn't know what to make of it. And they were playing And wow, I couldn't believe. I was so thrilled. And then right in the middle of everything, the microphone came up out of the floor. And I what's going to happen next?

And this fella got up from the saxophone section and he stepped out onto the edge of the stage where the microphone was and the band played an inter. I didn't know what it was then, but it was an interlude and they made a break and he swooped in with the saxophone. And at that moment, the piano began to fade a little bit. Yeah. And it faded even more as the show went on. And when I went home thereafter, after after my homework every day, I was on the radio and she tried, "Why are you listening to the radio?". I said, "I'm trying to listen to all the saxophone solos".

And I expressed to her and and before that she was thinking I was going to be a concert pianist. And when Miss Connley who was a church organist. When Miss Connelly died, bless her heart, if she died, if she died, I would become the church organist. She had all these things in mind and I did too. And one day I told her, "Mom, I think I want to be a saxophone player playing jazz". And she said, "Oh my god, you're going to be a dope addict". I think I kind of killed her spirit, but she was really in my corner. And I knew we couldn't afford a new saxophone. We were on welfare and everybody knows what welfare was. And I thought if I got a saxophone, it would be one of those silver one she saw hanging in the wind of the pawn shop. But she went to work one day and I remember when remember when she left, she just had her lunch pail with her, but when she got off the street car and started coming up the street, well, when she had something in her hand and when she crossed the street, it was a case and it wasn't a regular suitcase. It was long and my heart started to beat. And I wondered and she got closer and she leaned over and she said, "I've got something for you, baby". Oh my goodness. I started to go. It was a brand new saxophone. A Martin saxophone. A dollar down and a dollar for the rest of your life.

We took the saxophone in the house. My goodness. Open the saxophone up, the case up, and I immediately became depressed. I didn't know when I saw the guys playing the saxophone, they were playing the saxophone, but here was a saxophone here and the neck was over here, and the mouthpiece was over here. I never seen it. I didn't know what to make of it. So, I said, I don't I don't know how to put this together. She says, "Well, Mrs. Mitchell's son, where we used to live on Bouvier Street, her son Tony plays a saxophone". "Come on, I'll take her around to the house and maybe he can show you how to put the horn together".

So, we round went around to Miss Mitchell's house and Tony was there. Now, I was 14 years old, but Tony was or he was in his 20s, I guess, and he showed me how to put the horn together. And then he said to me, "Play something". I didn't even know how to hold it. So, he put the sax he put the strap around his neck and put the saxophone clicked it to the strap and then he put his recording on. It was Duke Ellington playing Main Stem and when Ben Webster's came solo came on the recording he had learned a solo and he started playing Ben Webster solo with my saxophone. Oh man, I was thrilled. I couldn't believe it. And then he handed the saxophone to me again. And when I tried to play, it sounded like you were in the middle of a slaughter house and the animals were being slaughtered.

But I went home Page Street and it was a summertime and it was warm and of course the winters were up and the screens were in. And when I played tried to play. Everybody could hear me and everybody on the block wanted to kill me. It was god awful. You know, I got a teacher and it f finally got better. And I really knew that it was getting better when my mother would go to the market on the corner and the neighbors would say sometime and everybody still call me Junior. Does Junior know how to play? Well, what Junior did was I learned to play those melodies and they put up with all the rest of the nonsense.

Wow.

And then I met another aspiring saxophone player. He played alto. I went to school one day and Howard, another aspiring saxophone player, he said, "There's a new guy that moved into the projects and he plays the Alto just like Johnny Hodges". Well, that was before Bird, you know, Charlie Parker and Dizzy Gillespie. And Johnny Hodes was the man when you mentioned Alto saxophone.

And I said, "By Johnny Hodges?". He said, "Yeah.". I said, "Do you think you can bring him by the house after school tomorrow?". And he said, "Well, yeah, I think so". So around 4:00, the doorbell rang and there was Howard on the top step. But on the sidewalk down there, was this country bumpkin. And Howard came in and sat down. And this country bumpkin came and he just stood in the doorway. He didn't sit down and is holding a saxophone. I didn't know what to say. I I said, "Play something". And that's what he was waiting to hear me say. He took the saxophone out and he started to play. And you know, he sounded just like Johnny Hodges.

Now, Before I met this guy, we had our so-called jam sessions. We were raw amateurs. So, they're more like am sessions. And my mother, nobody ever saw her. She was always upstairs on the second floor. Never heard a peep out of that out of her. But when this alto player, this new fellow came and was playing on On the Sunny Side of the Street, I heard this voice upstairs hollow down, "Who is that?". Hurt me so bad. I mean, I'm down there playing my heart out and never said a word. And this stranger comes in and she wants to know who he is. And I said, "His name is John Coltrane". And he joined our cery of musicians. And every time John came came to the house before we could start our AM sessions, he had to play On the Sunny Side of the Street.

Now, we began to make sense a little bit. You know, I had to say to my mother one day after our am session, "Mom, you know, we're trying to move ahead now". "There's a fellow named Charlie Parker on the scene and Dizzy Gillespie and I tried to explain to her and when you John comes here and you keep asking for On the Sunny Side of the Street I said it's really kind of like a drag". She said, "This is my house I can ask for anything I want". John had to keep plants on On the Sunny Side of the Street. We laughed about that years later.

Time went by and we got a lot better and John and I, we got hired in one of the local big bands. He was still playing alto then. Jimmy Johnson and his ambassadors. Now John and I come out of my living room and now we're fl playing in front of people stock arrangements, you know, wasn't that great, but at least we were moving ahead. We didn't know where we wanted to arrive, but we wanted to get there as soon as possible. And we got up and played in front of the microphone. Oh man, we were on our way. I was feeling good. And then one day, Jimmy Johnson sent his home. We used to work on the weekend because I was still in high school. Friday and Saturday we usually worked and that was good for me because I was in school.

And one Friday, Jimmy Johnson the band leaders. Nobody had telephones then. Let me tell you how we used to get our telephone message. Nobody's going to believe this. There was a cigar store down on the corner and they had like a telephone boo, you know, a person would call me and if there was a kid around, he would come up the street to my house to get me and I'd give him a nickel and the person was still on the phone waiting for me to get to the phone. And that's how We talk to one another on the phone.

Oh, Jimmy Johnson came to the house to tell us to tell me that the job that we had that night had been cancelled. And I guess he went across town where John lived and told him that the job was canceled. Well, John used to come over to see we had a three-story house, but John lived in an apartment, you know, one floor and the record player was in the living room and we used to practice with it. So, he was over my house all the time and we were playing his old 78 records and that was our school. And so, he knew the job was off so he came over and we were disappointed. The music wasn't great, but we looked forward to those jobs.

And we were just sort of sitting in the living room and my mother came down and she saw us looking with this dull look on our face and she said, "Well, what's the matter?". And John said, "Oh, Miss Goldman, you know, we had a job and it was cancelled". Now, my mother, she didn't have a great education. I think she was from Alabama, Mobile. I think she went to the seventh grade or something like that. But she had what the people in the South called mother wit. And two ativeness. Looking back on it, I knew my mother could have gotten a job with the FBI or KGB or the CIA.

And she started her questions, "Well, what time did Jimmy send his son to tell you that?". I said, "Well, they got here to my house about 6:30". She said, "Well, what time was the job?". I said, "8:30". She thought again and she said, "Nobody cancels a job 2 hours before you play. I think they were playing without you". And I can still hear John. John said, "Oh no, Mrs. Golson, they wouldn't do that". And she said, "If it was me, I'd go up there where the job was canceled and see what's going on".

She said, "I looked at John. John looked at me. Let's go". just a few blocks from where I lived, 21st and Columbia Avenue, the American Legion Hall. So, we were walking up there. We got a half a block from the hall and we heard this band playing. I said, "John, no". John said to me, "They're playing our music". I said, "John, we got about three or four big bands and they all play the same corny arrangements. We have to see who they are. It might not be Jimmy Johnson and his ambassador".

So, we went up to the door. Well, they opened the door and we could hear them much better, but we couldn't see them because you had to go down the steps across the dance floor and they were set up against the wall. So, the next time the door opened, we both fell on our stomachs. I guess the people thought we were crazy, but we could see them. And it was Jimmy Johnson and his ambassadors and somebody was in my seat and somebody was in John's seat. We were out of the band.

Oh man. We went back to my house and when we stepped inside, my mother said, "What happened?". John said he was almost crying. He said, "You were right, Miss Gosen". And we went into the living room where we usually set to play the 78 records and we just stood in the middle of the floor. I didn't know what to do. I felt like crying. I felt so bad. And I know John wanted to cry, but we were too hip to cry in front of each other.

And my mother came in. She saw we were really in pain emotionally. And she put her arms around John and she put her arm around me and she squeezed us both. And she said, "Don't worry, sweetheart. One day the two of you will be so good they won't have enough money to pay you".

But we didn't believe it. Years later, John and I were both working, not together. John had his quartet together and we working were working the Newport Festival. He had just bought a soprano saxophone and recorded My Favorite Things. And Art Farmer and I had put together a group called the Jazz Tet and I had just written a tune and we just recorded Killer Joe. And we were John and I happened to be in the same tent warming up. And all of a sudden he took the horn out of his mouth and started laughing hilariously and I said, "What? What? What?". And he said, "Remember was your mother told us, you know, that one day we'd be so good they wouldn't be able to afford us?" I said, "Yeah". He said, "Well, those guys who fired us are still in Philadelphia and we're at Newport". There you go.

Eulis Cathey: How about that? Well, you know, speaking of Philadelphia and you know, John Coltrane, there's so many other musicians that were coming around the time. that you were beginning to play. Who were some of the others in Philadelphia at that time?

Benny Golson: Jimmy Heath. Now Jimmy Heath was playing alto then too. Red Rodney was there. See Ray Bryant and his brother. Now Ray Ray Bryant was a phenomenon. You're not going to believe this. I think I was 16. John was 18. Jimmy Heath was 18 or 19. Ray Bryant was 14 years old. Any tune this kid knew, he could play in any key. Now, he and his brother, they both were fantastic. And they were playing with the big guys, you know, 35 and 40 years old. They were playing regular gigs. And their father used to pick up pick them up in that 1937 Chevy after each gig because he had to go to school the next day.

But Ray Bryant was brilliant. Let me tell you how brilliant he was at 14. After one of those gigs, we were at the lunchonet and Ray and I were sitting on this side of the table and a couple of girls were on that side and they happened to have their books with them and she had a Spanish book and for some reason she was open it and she was doing something and she says, "Oh, I'm having so much trouble with the Spanish". And and Ray said, "What are you having trouble with?". And she turned to a page. Now he's looking the book is upside down in Spanish. He translated from Spanish to English looking at the book upside down. That's how brilliant he was. That guy, he could have been a surgeon, an astronaut, he could have been anything.

Eulis Cathey: Right, Brian, so you get a break with a band of Bull Moose Jackson. Tell us about that.

Benny Golson: Oh my goodness. Bull Moose Jackson. Yeah, let me tell you about it. I don't tell everybody about it, but I'll tell you about it. I got good enough that I thought I was ready to go on the road. Going on the road meant you join a popular band that played Chicago, Los Angeles, Boston, Dallas, Okamark, Wisconsin, you know, everywhere. But nobody hired me. And it would be a jazz group. That's what I thought. I'd be leaving town with a jazz group. But a rhythm and blues group came through and they needed a saxophone player. I was ready to go on the road. So, I left town. Yes, I left Philadelphia with Bull Moose Jackson and his Buffalo Bearcats.

Now, you're not going to believe this either. The piano player with Bull Moose Jackson happened to be a fellow named Tad Damarind.

Eulis Cathey: Wow. Now, I'll tell you how that happened.

Benny Golson: Bull news Jackson's name was Benjamin Jackson. Benjamin Jackson and Bull Moose Jackson were from Cleveland, Ohio, and they went to elementary school together. Tad was in New York and he was at Liberty, which means that he was not working. And Boom Moose needed a piano player and he said, "Well, look, I know this is your not your kind of music, but why don't you come on and make these few gigs with me and you know, you can make some money and whenever you're ready to leave, you can leave". And when I joined the band, he was a piano player. And I knew who he was. I'll tell you, I picked that guy's brain so much. It's a wonder he didn't have to have brain surgery.

Eulis Cathey: Well, and the word is that he's the one who really encouraged you in terms of composing and arranging.

Benny Golson: Absolutely. I mean, I'd write some stuff and he'd look at it and he'd say, "What is this?". But while we were in the band together, I came up up up. Now he was writing some stuff for the band, too. Now, this was a rhythm and blues band. And what an aberration it was. We played a funky blues and then we play something by Tad Damarind. And it turned out when we played, we had two different audiences. We had the audience that came to hear Bull Moose Jackson sing because he had a great voice and Tad's music. And then I started inserting some of my music in there. And people would come up to Tad and say, "Boy, that was a great arrangement on so and so". And it wasn't Tad, it was me. And Tad was so encouraged. He act like it was a drag. He said, "I you play your things and they come and thank me for it. What a drag that was". But he was so proud of me that I latched on to him. Yeah. And he was the one that really guided me in the right direction.

I remember once we played Chicago. Boy, the place was crowded. No, that was Milwaukee. Sorry. Milwaukee. And I was playing with Earl Bostic. And it was time to get paid. Earl, you know, would go get the money. You know what the fellow said to him? He was behind the bar washing glasses. I'm not going to pay you. Just like that. We had been working that week for the mafia and didn't know it. And we didn't get paid.

Now, Now, another time I was working Chicago. Was it Art Blakey? Art Becky and the jazz messengers packed every night. And the guy in charge of the whole music thing disappeared with the money. We didn't get paid.

Eulis Cathey: Well, now, how long did you stay with Bull Moose?

Benny Golson: I stayed I stayed with Bull Moose well over a year. and I got a lot of experience.

Eulis Cathey: Now, Art Blakey and the Jazz Messengers, one of the most important um stops in your career. Talk about how you became a part of the messengers, a significant part. You were the musical director. and contributed so many tunes. Talk about that experience with art.

Benny Golson: Yes, I had been playing with Bull Boo Jackson and that came to an end and I moved from Philadelphia when that ended to New York and got a room with my aunt. Now, when I came to New York, nobody knew who I was, of course. That took a while, but I got a phone call one day from Art Blake from start playing and he says, "I understand you play the saxophone". I said, "Yes". He said, "I can you come in and as a substitute?". And they were playing down in the village at Bohemian. Cafe Bohemia.

Eulis Cathey: What was the name of that? Club Bohemia. Yeah.

Benny Golson: And I said, "Uh, yeah, sure". And I came down. Oh, what an opportunity. Now Jackie McClean was a saxophone player, but he had fallen ill. So I needed to fill in for him that that night. Boy, I played that night with Art Blakey. Oh man, what a drummer. And at the end of the night, I figured that that was it. He said, "Look, Jack is really having Can you come in tomorrow night?". He said, "Look, I don't think Jack is coming back. Can you become a regular member of the group?". I said, "Oh, Art, I'm so sorry. I just moved to New York and I want to establish myself as an arranger writing for singers and dancers, big bands, small groups, radio and TV commercials". "I want to get started here. And if I leave, I don't know when I can get back to that. I have to get started".

Now, what I didn't know, I knew he was a heck of a drummer, but I didn't know that Art Blakey was a pocket psychologist. And he had started to go to work on me. So he said, "Well, okay. Well, can you finish the week out?". So I got three nights under my belt now. The odd Blakey Titus be is beginning to set in. "Look, I know you don't want to leave town, but I've got one week in Pittsburgh." "Now, if you're gone for a week, that's not really going to upset your plans, is it?". No. "Well, no, just a week". And it's cuz I got a week under my belt. Now, we played Pittsburgh. I've got two weeks under my belt. Man, this heartbreak is really getting to me. He said at the end of that that week. "Didn't you go to college in Washington DC?". I said, "Yeah". He said, "I'll bet you knew a lot of people there". I said, "It's like a second home". He said, "I bet you they'd be glad to see you". I said, "Yeah, I went to Washington. I was a jazz messenger". I forgot about all that other stuff because it turned out as it turned out Art Blakey who was nonacademic all intuitive made the greatest impression on me than anybody else in my career.

That man Art Blakey, I only stayed with him for a little over a year. I guess he had gotten to me so much so that when I left that that band. I had trouble for months playing with another drummer. I expressed that to Freddy Huard and he looked at me and said, "You two?". He had the same pro that Art Blakey, there was nobody like him on those drums.

When I joined Art Blakey, he wasn't making that much money. And I found all that out because I become became a member of the band. And during the break one night, I said to him, you know, Art, the way you play the drums. You should be a millionaire. And when he heard that word billionaire, his eyes widened and he said, "Well, what should I do?". I can't believe what I said to him, but I said it. Get a new band.

He said, "Well, who you going to get?". I said, "There's a young trumpet that played with Digles Espie's band with me. He was 18. I guess he's 19 now". He said, "What's his name?". I said, "Le Morgan". He said, "Uh, where's he from?". I said, "Philadelphia". He said, "Uh, well, what about a piano player?". I said, "There's a fellow that used to play with Chad Baker. He can play hip and he can play funky. He's a good man". He said, "What's his name"? I said, "Bobby Timonss". He said, "Uh, where is he from?". I said, "Philadelphia". He said, "Well, what about a bass player?". I said, "There's a guy who used to play with me with Bull Moose Jackson". And before that, he played with BB King. He said, "What is this Philadelphia crap I'm hearing?". I said, "Art, we're all from Pennsylvania. You're from Pittsburgh". He never did call me Benny. He said, "Go, you're a salesman".

But then I started to make suggestions. I said, "Art, you play your drum solos at the end of the tune like every other common drummer. You're the leader. You need to do something up front so they know you control everything here in this band stand". I said, "Remember what you did with the Lym Straight, no chase all that recording. You started off with one hand and then you added the other hand. You added one foot on the high hat and then the bass drum. four independent things." I said that garnered everybody's attention. I said, "but you've done everything there is to do." H then the bizarre thought crossed my mind. "You've played everything there is to play except to march". And we both started to laugh.

He said, "Go and it'll never work". I said, "Well, let let me tried to to work out something." "No, I don't want to play a march". "Art, just let me try". Man, they only play marches when they're going to a funeral in New Orleans. I don't want to be associated with a march. I said, I begged him so much. He finally said yes.

I just bought a move my aunt. So, I just bought a secondhand upright piano. And I wrote this march. Now it was a march of course and I said, "Uh, what kind of tune Who would it be? Let's make it something everybody can dig. A blues. Yeah. Well, what would the title be? Blues March. Yeah".

I said, "Art, you started off". He said, "Well, what do I do?". I said, "Remember when the drum and bugle core used to come through the neighborhood? When the bugles would stop playing, what did we hear? We heard the snare drum. We heard the symb and the bass drum. Try to approximate something like that".

We started how it started. Now the people were just sitting there. then he added a Bobby blue bland backbeat to it and he played and lea and the people the head started to move and then we got into it and the fingers start to pop. Oh man, we really got into it. They got up and started dancing and knocking the drinks over on the floor. And Art was playing and he said, "I'll be damned". He didn't believe it. He had to play Blues March with every group after that.

Eulis Cathey: Now, after Blakey, you formed the Jazz Tech. with with Art Farmer. What was the origin of the band?

Benny Golson: Art Art Blakey and I I I I don't have time enough to tell you everything. But Art Farmer and I played together with Lionel Hampton in 1953. And that's where I met him and Quincy Jones and some of the other Jimmy Cleveland. And I remembered the way he played and I thought, I want to put a group together. So I said, "Well, let me give him a call". Said, "Art, you know, I'm thinking about putting together a sex tent and I'd really like for you to be my trumpet player". And he bursted out laughing. He said, "You know, you're not going to believe this, but I was thinking of putting about putting together a sex tent. I was going to call you". So, we got together and his twin brother was alive during that time, Addison.

I lived in New York then, but I went back to Philly to play. And I was impressed with this piano player. Boy, this guy could play play and his name was McCoy Tiner, 19 years old. So I said, "Yeah, Art, I've got this guy in mind. He's from Philly, and that guy can play". And I heard this trombone player, Curtis Fuller, and that guy can play. And we put together the group.

McCoy Tiner's mother was a butician. She had a beauty parlor and the piano was in the beauty parlor. So, while he was practicing, women were getting their hair done. And I when I called him to find out, would he like to join me. It was like he was sitting by the telephone waiting for the call.

McCoy told me later he was very hesitant about hiring him because John and I were such good friends, but he really belonged with John because we were doing something else a little different.

Eulis Cathey: Wow. Well, as we head toward the top of the hour, Benny, I want to move on to your experiences in Hollywood writing for TV and film. I want to talk about that for a few minutes and how you got into that. You mentioned earlier that you know earlier in your career that's something you had aspired to doing. So how did that come about?

Benny Golson: Yeah, you know when I left college that was one thing but writing for the movies in Hollywood that was something else. Now Quincy Jones and I we lived in the same building. I was on the fourth floor and he was on the sixth floor. And I remember when he went out there. And then another friend of mine. He was a journalist, a fellow fellow named Leonard Feather.

Eulis Cathey: Yeah. I think I've heard of him.

Benny Golson: And and then another friend of mine moved out there, Oliver Nelson. And I would get calls from these guys, man. Come on. Come on out. So I went out there. Now everybody knew who I was in New York, but when I went to LA, no Nobody knew who I was. Trying to get started in a town where nobody knew who you were was was a little difficult. But my friend Quincy Jones was out there and he recommended me at U Universal Studio.

Eulis Cathey: What was your first assignment?

Benny Golson: It Takes a Thief, Robert Wagner. Yeah. And he was there and I did something that surprised them. I found out that if you wanted 30 strings, they would ask you, could you do it with 15? So, I would I would always ask for more. But in the beginning, since I couldn't get the amount of strings that I wanted, I hired an organist who blended in with the strings, and nobody ever knew any different. So, that got me started.

And uh one thing led to another. I went over to that was per universal Then I went over to Paramount and I started to do Mission Impossible. Colombia, I started to do the Partridge Family. Then I got shows of my own. They gave me Mash with Alan Alder who I got to know. I remember once I called him at his mother's house in Jersey cuz I was with the group then. A lot of movie stars were into the jazz thing. Mickey Rooney. Oh yeah, man. I wrote some stuff. I wrote an act for him when he went to Las Vegas and he was always talking about Judy Garland.

I was able to get a lot of my stuff out of the pawn shop. So, it began to work out all right.

Eulis Cathey: What an extraordinary career that continues to this day, folks. Benny Goen, ladies and gentlemen, unbelievable.

Audience Member: Am I correct? I 39 tomorrow.

Benny Golson: Thank you so much.

Eulis Cathey: Yes.

Benny Golson: I never thought I would get this far. When I was a kid, I remember I happened I wasn't thinking about numbers. Somebody mentioned that my mother's brother-in-law, uncle, my uncle Dewey, they happened to mention that he was 39. And I think I was about 8 years old at the time. And when I heard 39, I said, "Wow, I didn't know Uncle Dwey was that old. He's an old guy".

Audience Member: Great Day in Harlem picture.

Benny Golson: Great Day in Harlem. Yeah. I got a co. Do you remember a fellow who used to be a jazz writer and then later he became writing politics and Wall Street Journal? Nat Hento. I got a call from Nat Hento and he says, "Uh, if you're free, can you come up to so and so and so? They're doing a picture for a magazine". But when I got up there, saw all of my heroes. I said, "Nobody knows who I am". Cuz all those guys were famous, you know, really. And I happened to be be playing with Dizzy Gillespie at the time. But it was quite an occasion.

And when we took the final picture, everybody was there except Willie the Lion Smith. Now, all the other times he was there, but that time he was there and nobody missed him and he wasn't on the photograph and he was significant. Willie the Lion Smith, a stride piano player. But yeah, that's how all that happened and nobody knew it was going that picture was going to be famous.

Benny Golson: Well, I decided I would write a song to help people to remember Clifford, but he didn't need me to write a song. And I always say, I wish I hadn't written that song. Well, what does that mean? I sorry that he got killed. If he hadn't got killed, I would have never written the song. So, yes, I'm sorry I wrote that song. Yeah, that was And it took me two weeks to write that song. During those days, I'd write two or three songs a day. And everybody thinks I'm a genius. Some of those songs were so horrible, you don't want even know about it.

Eulis Cathey: What a treat. Ladies and gentlemen, give it up for Benny Golson. Thank you. Thank you, Benny.

(Closing)

Thanks for listening to this episode of Jazz Cruise Conversations. If you enjoyed those stories by Benny, you're sure to dig his memoir called Whisper Not, the autobiography of Benny Goolson. Our theme music is Marcus Miller's high life from his album Aphrodesia. Join us next week as we listen to a conversation with trumpeter and band leader Wynton Marsalis, recorded during Blue Note at Sea 2019.