Christiern

Columbus, Georgia Posted on Sun, Aug. 27, 2006 Ma's place Ma Rainey's home has been remodeled and converted into a museum that Ma would love BY BRAD BARNES Staff Writer Jim Vukelic is a fan of the blues, but he didn't come all the way from Bismarck, N.D., to Columbus in search of the city's rich blues history. He came to visit his son, a soldier stationed at Fort Benning. But since they had time to kill, they thought they'd check out what the city had to offer. He was particularly interested in seeing the home of Ma Rainey, the Columbus-born blues singer that even greats like B.B. King call the Mother of the Blues. "I like to buy T-shirts in places I go to -- and music. The typical tourist accoutrements," says Vukelic. When he reflects on his 2002 visit, he remembers a boarded up house with a locked door. "If I had to use one word to describe it, it would be 'dilapidated,' " he says. Things have changed in the last four years, though. After a ribbon-cutting on Thursday, visitors will find an open door and a renovated house that pays tribute to Rainey's legend and influence. There'll be Rainey's music playing through an old Victrola, and a collection of photos and records for people to explore. The furniture will all be from the 1920s -- when Rainey was in her prime -- and some will even be hers. "You'll see a period house, go into her living room, hear music play," says Florene Dawkins, chairwoman of the Friends of Ma Rainey Museum of the Blues. Officials hope to make steady progress with acquisitions and the operation of the museum, and Dawkins has asked Chattahoochee Valley cultural expert Fred Fussell to serve as curator. The house has seen quite a face-lift in the past six months. At its worst, the entire two-story house listed some 30 degrees to one side. It had been tagged for demolition in 1991 when the city narrowly approved spending $90,000 to shore it up. Even a year ago, though structurally sound, the place was in horrible shape. You could look from the front of the house to the back through giant holes in the plaster. Vines pushed in through windows and curled up interior walls. Folksy trim pieces fell from doorways onto the floor, and the narrow stairwell to the second floor teetered precariously. It's gone from weathered and white to a yellow so bright that it's actually surprised folks who haven't seen the house in a while. "We got calls saying, 'Oh no, not yellow,' " says Columbus City Manger Isaiah Hugley, who's been involved with the effort to open the museum for years. But the yellow paint scheme actually came from paint chips many layers down. The Friends of Ma Rainey Museum of the Blues coordinated the paint scheme with the Historic Columbus Foundation to make sure it was in keeping with the predominant schemes of the day. Inside, the refinished oak floor shines. Fireplace mantels are back in place. Plaster is patched. The stairwell is solid. And there's a wheelchair ramp to the back door and a handicap-accessible bathroom. The city of Columbus owns the house, but the Friends will run it. Plans are to open 10 a.m.-4 p.m. Monday-Friday weekdays and half a day on Saturdays. On weekdays, two part-time city Parks and Recreation workers will operate out of the house as support staff. The workers will perform their normal desk duties from the museum, Hugley said, but they'll be on hand to assist museum patrons. In recent years there have been a number of efforts to bring Rainey's legacy to the forefront of Columbus history. In the years just after her death, the community did not well up in support of her, and historians cite a number of possible reasons. Devil's music In those days, blues was largely viewed as the Devil's music, particularly in the Bible Belt. Rainey performed largely in carnivals and tent shows, which were certainly not the most prestigious of venues. She was, by all indications, bisexual -- a lifestyle that was not as accepted then as it is today. (In fact, several biographers suggest that singer Bessie Smith, who was a protege of Rainey's, also might have been her lover.) Rainey's heyday, in the 1920s, came before the mass popularization of recorded music, so recordings are scarce and of questionable quality. There are only a handful of photographs of her, as well. Still, that even that many exist is a tribute to her importance, says blues record and memorabilia collector John Tefteller, of Grants Pass, Ore. "She's one of the most photographed of that era," he says. "Most are not photographed at all, or maybe once." Recently, several new images of Rainey came to light as part of a collection of photos by Basil Clemons in the University of Texas at Arlington library's special collection. Locally, in 2002, the Columbus Jazz Society began hosting a Ma Rainey Jazz & Blues Festival. This year's festival kicked off outside her Fifth Avenue house and paraded to her grave at nearby Porterdale Cemetery, and planners have said they hope to incorporate the house more firmly into the festival once the museum opens. In 1997, B.B. King volunteered to play a free concert in Columbus in order to raise money for the restoration of the house. The event garnered $34,000 for the restoration. And when Columbus State University this year was awarded a grant to present a series of programs on Columbus history and culture, Ma Rainey was chosen as one of the monthly topics. At the event, which will be held in March and open to the public, Dawkins will speak about Rainey and the group can take part in a field trip to the museum. Out-of-towners like Vukelic should find an open door too. And maybe, soon, there'll be some T-shirts and CDs for sale. MA'S PIANO Of all the relics found under the roof of the Ma Rainey house, this is the one that could most easily fire the imagination. An upright piano, covered with a thick layer of green paint. At first officials were dubious about declaring the piano as Rainey's. After all, she was a singer and didn't play the piano on stage. But now they think the piano belonged to her brother, and it was almost certainly in the house at the same time as Rainey. "You can just imagine her sitting there, working out her songs," says Jerry Franklin, the chief of maintenance at the National Civil War Naval Museum at Port Columbus and the man contracted to restore the instrument. It's built of tiger maple, he discovered, once he was able to remove the green paint and the light blue paint beneath that. He hopes to have the work completed in time for the grand opening on Thursday. But: "You can't get into too big a hurry or you'll get into that wood," he says. The piano was built by the now-defunct Milwaukee-based Kreiter Piano Co., and based on its serial number, Franklin thinks it was built in 1909 or 1910. MA RAINEY TIMELINE April 26, 1886: Born as Gertrude Pridgett in Columbus. She was the second of five children of Thomas and Ella Allen Pridgett. 1900: Debuts at the Springer Opera House in "A Bunch of Blackberries." February 1904: Marries Will "Pa" Rainey, an entertainer she met as he came to town in a touring colored minstrel show. 1920s: Becomes known as Ma Rainey, an influential voice on the black vaudeville circuit. 1935: Returns to Columbus, living at 805 Fifth Ave. and running theaters in Columbus and Rome, Ga. Dec. 22, 1939: Dies from complications of a heart condition and is buried in Columbus' Porterdale Cemetery. September 1986: Historic marker goes up outside her home. October 1988: Pulitzer Prize-winning playwright August Wilson's play "Ma Rainey's Black Bottom" debuts in Columbus. July 1991: With a federal grant, the Columbus Housing Authority buys the home to save it from demolition. December 1992: House is placed on the National Register of Historic Places. September 1994: U.S. Postal Service issues a commemorative stamp in Rainey's honor. September 1995: Friends of Ma Rainey Museum of the Blues incorporated by the state of Georgia. June 1997: B.B. King headlines a concert that raises $34,000 for the Friends. Aug. 31, 2006: The Ma Rainey Museum of the Blues will open with a 9 a.m. ribbon cutting. Information: 706-326-8010 Contact Brad Barnes at 706-571-8524 or bbarnes@ledger-enquirer.com

There must be a site containing the tax returns of every bebopper.

Okay, Allen, let's hear it!

I don't think anyone here is arguing that Wynton's name does not work when it comes to fundraising, it does, and for the reasons Larry and I have stated. But Wynton did not create that name recognition on his own--that was done for him. Notice that this same name recognition did not move the general public (not even the average jazz fan) to buy his albums in quantities that satisfied Columbia. Had he not been handed the job at LC, his name would not be "magic." In other words, musical talent/creativity did not give him recognition, business, and the promotional opportunities that go with large corporate support, did. If you are in the PR business, you should be familiar with the name of Marilyn Laverty. She was a VP at Columbia who went on to form her own PR company, Shore Fire Media. Among her first clients were two Columbia artists, Bruce Springsteen and Wynton--she is very good at what she does. I give her more credit for establishing Wynton's name than is due Butler. She worked Butler skillfully. So, I hope you understand that some of us are more impressed by musical talent than we are by the PR that puffs it up. Wynton is a favorite subject when talent and hype are placed on the scale--that, too, is the result of Laverty's well-crafted image building. She might also have had a hand in his receiving the Pulitzer (when Ellington had not been so honored), but when I asked one of the judges how such an inferior work could garner such a prestigious award, he told me that it had been a "political" decision. I mention this only because it always pops up in discussions of Wynton's merits (or lack thereof). His admirers and shills like to regard the Pulitzer as proof of talent and that was probably so in earlier years, but listen to "Blood on the Fields" and you, too, will wonder. Finally, please tell me where, "all over the world," I can find statues of Wynton.

Larry Kart: "I don't think we can know, because Wynton the "face of jazz" was quite a creation on the part of many people over the years, a feat of social engineering the likes of which I haven't seen otherwise in my lifetime. For one thing, the backing aspect, which I think was many-sided and complex, would be repeatable only if you began with similar human interest/status factors that wqould be difficult if not impossible to repeat -- well-spoken, polite youthfulness; jazz plus classical credibility or the like; the sense of an art that was artistically worthy/noble but commercially beleagured and thus in need of a young Lochinvar, etc. For another, once Wynton "the face" attained that position, while the game was not over (it could still have blown via scandal, gross inepitude, you name it), the whole structure that had placed the face there now had a deep vested interest in supproting him in that position, if only to verify the good judgment of the important people and the process in which all had participated/were participating. Which, again, is not to say that Wynton isn't doing a whizbang, hands-job as JLC's CEO, as far as that goes." I had a near ringside seat for this and you are right on the money, as it were. It was amazing to see the star sculptors at work. The fact that Wynton showed much promise in the Blakey days played a role in that success. The main culprit at Columbia was "Dr." George Butler, a man who was basically as clueless when it came to jazz as he was inept when it came to producing it. Butler was the man who nearly destroyed Blue Note by downgrading the label beyond recognition (signing on such lightweights as Bobbi Humphrey and diluting the works of more substantial artists). As he fumbled through his new job, suspicions were confirmed: Butler had been hired by Columbia because he was black and this was the 1970s, a time when that mattered to many white corporations. The "Dr." title became a sad, sometimes cruel joke. Incidentally, the scam that involved purchases of masters from the BYG crooks, which I have detailed in a long ago thread, also came about because the company relied on an employee who was hired for the wrong reasons (I don't recall his name now, but he played bass and formed a well-financed record label upon his early departure from Columbia. The label failed spectacularly.

"And since JOLC is Wynton's baby, why would he raise money, not to mention kiss ass so someone else gets the gig? As for tourist traps, what do you think New York City is? You think it's locals who go to restaurants, theaters the Met Opera, museums etc every day of the week? Some of you are just going to have to admit that someone you don't like is a HUGE SUCCESS in America today, doing it 'In His Own Sweet Way', to quote Miles thru Brubeck!" You must be.....yep! You are...another Wynton apologist, and wouldn't it be nice if that, alleged "HUGE SUCCESS" were generated through musical talent? Measuring a performers success through his hype-generated name recognition and the job he was handed is a very clueless thing to do. One cannot create artistic success through hype, only the illusion of it. Here, have some ...

J@LC's new complex is, basically, a tourist trap. New York has always had great clubs where great jazz can be heard, it did not need this corporate attraction. Wynton's accomplishments are not musical. The only good thing I see him doing is his teaching activity, but it is an accomplishment that he has achieved by default. There are many excellent musicians out there teaching young people. They do not seek the spotlight, they haven't the resources, but they have earned respect and they can see beyond bop. We only hear of Wynton's work in this field of endeavor because he has the power of big corporations and the name value of Lincoln Center behind him. This has totally sold our clueless media so that Wynton is inevitably the name that comes to their little minds when the subject is jazz. This, of course, feed the public, so that they, too see Wynton as Mr. Jazz. How nice and good for jazz it would have been if LC had given the job to a truly dedicated, accomplished and visionary artist. Wouldn't it be great if so much attention were showered upon an artist who had earned the spotlight via his/her music? I submit that the little clubs, like the Vanguard, the old Half Note, Birdland, Five Spot, etc. played a far more important role in New York City's cultural life than the JC complex ever will. Yes, none of these places has/had adequate dressing room(s), the bandstand may have been too small, the lighting and audio wanting, but they had a creative atmosphere--new directions were nourished in those places. I don't se any of that creativity and vision flowing at Wynton's stop-the-clock venues.

Marty Grosz has a great sense of humor.

It is, in any case--I just hope the bill is sent to Sony.

Well, yes (although only 2 million are recalled ). But the culprit is Sony. Guess we can now say that Apple computers are hot as Dell. Sorry

Maynard Ferguson 5/4/28 - 8/23/06 After recently completing a new live recording and closing out his amazing performing career with a historic run at Birdland last month in NYC, Maynard Ferguson passed away peacefully in Canada Wednesday evening. Kidney failure was give as the cause of death.

I have reminded you of this before--read before you post.

I'll look for details, but word is that Maynard has passed. Keep scrolling for details.

OP-ED COLUMNIST August 24, 2006 A Triumph of Felons and Failure By BOB HERBERT I was browsing at a newsstand in Manhattan recently when I came across a magazine called Felon. It was the “Stop Snitchin’ ” issue, and the first letter to the editor began: “Yo, wassup Felon!” Another letter was from “your nigga John-Jay,” who was kind enough to write: “To my bitches, I love ya’ll.” Later I came across a magazine called F.E.D.S., which professes to be about “convicted criminals—street thugs—music—fashion—film—etc.” The headline “Stop Snitching” was emblazoned on the cover. “Hundreds of kilos of coke,” said another headline, “over a dozen murders,” and “no one flipped.” What we have here are symptoms of a depressing cultural illness, frequently fatal, that has spread unchecked through much of black America. The people who are laid low by this illness don’t snitch on criminals, seldom marry, frequently abandon their children, refer to themselves in the vilest terms (niggers, whores, etc.), spend extraordinary amounts of time kicking back in correctional institutions, and generally wallow in the deepest depths of degradation their irresponsible selves can find. In his new book, “Enough,” which is about the vacuum of leadership and the feverish array of problems that are undermining black Americans, Juan Williams gives us a glimpse of the issue of snitching that has become an obsession with gang members, drug dealers and other predatory lowlifes — not to mention the editors of magazines aimed at the felonious mainstream. “In October 2002,” he writes, “the living hell caused by crime in the black community burst into flames in Baltimore. A black mother of five testified against a Northeast Baltimore drug dealer. The next day her row house was fire-bombed. She managed to put out the flames that time. Two weeks later, at 2 a.m. as the family slept, the house was set on fire again. This time the drug dealer broke open the front door and took care in splashing gasoline on the lone staircase that provided exit for people asleep in the second- and third-floor bedrooms. “Angela Dawson, the 36-year-old mother, and her five children, aged 9 to 14, burned to death. Her husband, Carnell, 43, jumped from a second-story window. He had burns over most of his body and died a few days later.” If white people were doing to black people what black people are doing to black people, there would be rioting from coast to coast. As Mr. Williams writes, “Something terrible has happened.” When was it that the proud tradition of Frederick Douglass and W. E. B. DuBois, Harriet Tubman and Mary McLeod Bethune, Louis Armstrong and Billie Holiday and Duke Ellington, Martin Luther King and Thurgood Marshall, gave way to glossy felon magazines and a shameful silence in the face of nationally organized stop-snitching campaigns? In an interview, Mr. Williams said: “There are so many things that we know are indicators of a crisis within the community. When you look at the high dropout rate, especially among our boys. Or the out-of-wedlock birthrate, which is really alarming. Or the high rate of incarceration. “When you hear boys saying it’s a ‘rite of passage’ to go to jail, or the thing that is so controversial but has been going on for a while — kids telling other kids that if they’re trying to do well in school they’re trying to ‘act better than me,’ or ‘trying to act white’ — all of these are indications of a culture of failure. These are things that undermine a child or an individual who is trying to do better for himself or herself. These are things that drag you down.” Enough, in Mr. Williams’s view, is enough. His book is a cry for a new generation of African-American leadership at all levels to fill the vacuum left by those who, for whatever reasons, abandoned the tradition of struggle, hard-won pride and self-determination. That absence of leadership has led to an onslaught of crippling, self-destructive behavior. Mr. Williams does not deny for a moment the continued debilitating effects of racism. But racism is not taking the same toll it took a half-century ago. It is up to blacks themselves to embrace the current opportunities for academic achievement and professional advancement, to build the strong families that allow youngsters to flourish, and to create a cultural environment that turns its back on crime, ignorance and self-abasement. More blacks are leading successful lives now than ever before. But too many, especially among the young, are caught in a crucible of failure and degradation. This needs to change. Enough is enough.

Hawkins' playing did deteriorate towards the end and nowhere is that more evident than on a TV interview done by Dan Morgenstern shortly before Hawkins' death. It should never have been made, much less released. Does anyone recall what that interview was for?

I pretty much stopped watching dramatic shows and sit-coms a few years back, but I never miss C-Span's Washington Journal (my bedroom TV is set to turn that on at 7 AM every day, and I do watch whenever something interesting is happening on the Hill. Sunday talk shows and, of course, "The Young and the Restless."

OP-ED COLUMNIST August 23, 2006 Ring-a-Ding-Bling By MAUREEN DOWD Washington It would be easy to make fun of Mr. Spears. Too easy — shooting tuna fish in a can, as they say. In his “A Star Is Not Born” moment making his big-time singing debut on Fox’s “Teen Choice Awards,” introduced by his wife, Britney, in Maxim magazine maternity wear, Kevin Federline managed to be even more deliciously atrocious than anticipated. He looked like someone doing a really bad Eminem or Vanilla Ice imitation on YouTube. Even YouTube chatterers were stunned at this rap version of Norman Maine and Vicki Lester, one of the most recycled plots in Hollywood history, the story of a perilously uneven marriage, a star married to another entertainer whose career is in a downward spiral. “OK,’’ wrote one YouTube viewer, “this is definitely a sign of the end of the world.” The hip-hop community reacted with amused disdain, particularly since K-Fed rapped about popping Cristal, ignoring the hip-hop Cristal boycott, and about his wife. “Don’t hate because I’m a superstar!’’ he rhymed. “And I’m married to a superstar! Nothin’ come between us no matter who you are!’’ Jermaine Hall, editor of King magazine, told The Associated Press: “The thing that really hurts him is the fact that he’s perceived as Britney’s second — I don’t even want to say second in command, but — he’s like the Britney Boy. He’s like Mrs. Spears.” Willie Geist, a producer and droll commentator on Tucker Carlson’s MSNBC show, agreed with me that K-Fed’s rapping and pop-locking was too shocking for mocking. “He’s a hero to men everywhere,’’ Mr. Geist said. “Go back five years. He was sitting in his basement in his wifebeater, probably playing video games. And now he’s married to Britney Spears, a multimillionaire. He came from nothing to something by doing nothing. I think that’s his sole purpose for existing, to mooch off of her.” And that is the beauty of K-Fed. In a world where many women now outearn their husbands, it’s rare to find men who can be such blissful and unself-conscious marital moochers. “My album’s gonna hit the pop market because of my wife,’’ he bragged to GQ. Men can be prone to the insecurities displayed by David Duchovny’s character in the new movie “Trust the Man.’’ Duchovny plays an advertising executive who becomes a house husband when his actress wife (Julianne Moore) takes a starring role on Broadway. Swaddled in maternal duties, resentful of his wife’s lack of attention, he reasserts his manliness with a meaningless affair. Government statistics show that nearly a third of married women now earn more money than their husbands, and nearly a fourth of women in unmarried-partner households make at least $5,000 more than their guys. Kate White, the editor of Cosmopolitan, went on CBS’s “The Early Show” last week to give potent women tips about avoiding the Hilary Swank syndrome. “He’s got to feel like he carries the weight in the relationship somehow,’’ she said. “So if he’s not the main financial provider, he’s got to be the protector, or maybe he’s the really social one. When you have dinner parties, or get-togethers, he’s the one who’s really the dominant social force. You’ve got to let him know he has a big role and you can’t talk about ‘my money.’ It’s got to be ‘our money.’ ’’ (Which brings to mind the “Curb Your Enthusiasm” episode in which Larry David told a friend’s non-working wife she could not refer to their money as “ours,’’ since the husband was making it all.) A woman with more renown and money, Ms. White continued, really has “to work hard to make sure he has his own notoriety and success in the relationship. And in that scenario, also the husband may become, like, a stay-at-home dad. But you can’t let his fame be traditionally feminine things, like, ‘Oh, you help so well,’ or, ‘You’re such a great dad.’ You’ve got to give him something with masculine overtones he’s really good at.’’ Besides K-Fed, there is one other guy who seems perfectly content to play backup dancer in his superstar wife’s national tour: B-Clint. “Now the choreography is reversed, and it is Hillary’s time to take the lead,’’ Karen Tumulty writes in this week’s Time. Other men in that spot might struggle with emasculation issues, as Geena Davis’s husband did in “Commander in Chief.’’ But somehow you know that, as First Lad, Bill would have the time of his life in the time of his wife.

Here are four suggestions (in no particular order). I'm pretty sure that Amazon has these available at low prices. Duke Ellington in Person: An Intimate Memoir - Mercer Ellington The World of Duke Ellington - Stanley Dance Beyond Category: The Life and Genius of Duke Ellington - John Edward Hasse The Duke Ellington Reader - an anthology edited by Mark Tucker

I like that BBS and--much as I take interest in politics, at the moment--I think it's great that it doesn't have a political forum.

No need to apologize, it's late now, but tomorrow I'll come up with some suggested reading for you, if you wish. Chris

What is "fine" about this piece? it's merely a rub-of-the-mill bio culled from other run-of-the-mill bios.

PhotoBucket.com works well for me. Ida Cox and Jo Jones 1961

I wondered about that, too. Why not mention the very young Bob Wilber, or Jimmy Archey, or ....

"At one mag my pitch to cover the Toronto jazz fest was turned down because the TO fest hadn't purchased any adverts in the past two or three years." Which may explain why they hadn't.

Book Review Laissez Faire In The Studio Richard Hyfler When John Hammond died in 1987, his "discoveries" of Billie Holiday and Bob Dylan were cited in his front-page New York Times obituary. He might as easily have been credited with discovering Count Basie, Aretha Franklin and Bruce Springsteen, all of whom he signed to recording contracts in a long career as a producer for Columbia Records (now owned by Sony) and its subsidiaries. Dunstan Prial's exhaustively researched The Producer: John Hammond and the Soul of American Music ($25, Farrar, Straus & Giroux) covers the career of this once legendary figure. A Vanderbilt heir, Hammond grew up in Manhattan and lived in a mansion off Fifth Avenue, a short bus ride away from Harlem, whose nightspots and jazz clubs he first visited in the 1920s while he was still in his teens. His nocturnal habits made him a familiar figure on the scene. Shortly after dropping out of Yale, he began writing articles for music magazines and touting his own early efforts as a DJ, manager of jazz artists and record producer--dubious credentials by current journalistic standards. Among his early accomplishments: the Bessie Smith session that produced the memorable "Gimme a Pigfoot (and a Bottle of Beer)," a sentiment, delivered with full-throated gusto by the great blues diva, that takes you a long way from summers at Newport. Hammond's personal charm and generosity toward the musicians he supported didn't stop him from developing a reputation as an acerbic critic--he had running battles in print with Duke Ellington--and as a sometimes unwelcome meddler in the bands, like Count Basie's and Benny Goodman's, that he could influence. But in the studio he was laissez faire all the way, typically sitting in some corner working his way through newspapers and political magazines while the musicians were left on their own. Hammond deserves some credit for stepping out of the way when an extraordinary stream of sides were recorded by the young Billie Holiday. Led mostly by the pianist Teddy Wilson, these sessions remain the epitome of small-band jazz of the '30s and are as perfect in their way as anything American culture has produced. When Hammond stepped in, things sometimes got messy: His idea of recording Paul Robeson and Aretha Franklin as jazz singers did little for their careers. Wilson figured in another of Hammond's ongoing concerns, when Hammond persuaded Goodman (later to become Hammond's brother-in-law) to hire Wilson, making Goodman's group the first prominent integrated band. The need to extend civil rights to the people responsible for the music he loved was clear to Hammond from the beginning. He was on the NAACP's board for decades--quitting when he thought it assumed too moderate a position--and during his World War II service he had the hopeless task of trying to boost the morale of ill-treated black recruits at Southern army bases. Hammond's influence diminished after the war. Though his tastes extended to blues and gospel, he had little interest in postwar jazz or rock 'n' roll. But his sinecure at Columbia allowed him to sign and promote Dylan, Franklin and Springsteen, although having these "discoveries" introduced to a prominent industry figure was much less dramatic than hearing a band on the radio and driving from New York to Kansas City to sign up Count Basie. This book corrects many of the errors of fact and omissions that appeared in Hammond's autobiography and includes well-placed biographies of the musicians he worked with and colorful details about Harlem in the '30s, the '60s folk scene and the jazz geography of Kansas City and Oklahoma City. The tone is generally laudatory, though balanced enough that one can appreciate Hammond's critics, who thought he was good at spotting raw talent but may have received more credit than he deserved. How influential was Hammond? Count Basie would have made it to New York, with or without him. And no doubt Dylan would have just as decisively jumped out of the pack of early-'60s protest singers had he signed up with Elektra instead of Columbia. And with or without Hammond, no one was going to stop the long march to civil rights for American blacks. And no one "discovers" an Aretha Franklin, just as surely as America existed before Columbus. But a few more years of frustration might have killed the careers of some of the musicians Hammond scouted. At least one of them barely escaped oblivion. Working on a tip from jazz pianist Mary Lou Williams, Hammond made his way to Oklahoma City in 1939 to listen to an electric guitar player. The plane trip from Chicago to Oklahoma City involved eight stops over 15 hours. A short time later, Hammond got the guitarist together with Benny Goodman. They hit it off musically and were soon appearing together in the country's most popular swing band. The only recordings that we have of Charlie Christian, which have influenced each successive generation of guitarists and contributed so much to the distinctive sound of rock 'n' roll, were produced in the brief span that he played with Goodman. Christian died in 1942 at the age of 25. Sometimes, timing is everything. He makes good points in the paragraph I bolded.--CA