“BLACK AND BLUE”: LOUIS ARMSTRONG AND RACE by RICKY RICCARDI (Feb. 12, 2011)

Ricky Riccardi has been intensely focused on Louis Armstrong for half of his life, with extraordinary results. 

His book on Louis’s later life and music — a book that will destroy some wrong-headed assumptions with new evidence — will be out in June 2011.  I’ve seen one or two pages of the galleys, and only because the author was across the table was I cajoled into releasing my hold and giving it back.

To whet your appetite — and also to make it easy to find a copy in that rarest of places, the bookstore, here’s the cover picture, an inspiring one.  You can “pre-order” the book online as well.

But this post isn’t about a forthcoming book. 

It’s about a talk that Ricky gave recently at the Louis Armstrong House Museum, LOUIS ARMSTRONG AND RACE.

(That title was so imposing that Michael Cogswell suggested, whimsically, that Ricky could have called it RED BEANS AND RACE, a play on Louis’s favorite dish.) 

Many times, lectures of this sort relate the indignities that African-Americans suffered (and still suffer) at the hands of Caucasians.  We know there’s plenty of evidence. 

And Ricky didn’t ignore it — from the policeman who hit the boy Louis over the head when for politely asking what time it was to the jazz critic who called his performance in the early Fifties “a coon carnival.”  Louis had gone to New Orleans in triumph in 1931 — an international star — only to have an announcer say, “I just can’t announce that nigger on the radio.” 

But what may have wounded Louis much more was his abandonment and rejection by the members of his own race, “my own people,” who called him “a plantation character” (the words are Dizzy Gillespie’s, although Dizzy later apologized) and an “Uncle Tom.”  These slights may have hurt him as much as seeing authorities beating African-American schoolchildren in Little Rock, Arkansas.

Charcteristically Ricky had more than enough material for an entire afternoon (he promises that it’s all in the book) but he gave us an hour filled with insight, pathos, humor, and wit.  Rather than read Louis’s words aloud, he drew on the private tapes Louis made at home and on the road — a priceless document of his expressiveness, his emotions, his consciousness: in his home, his hotel rooms, talking about his hopes and disappointments. 

Here’s Ricky’s presentation, for those who couldn’t make it to the LAHM and those who want to know what’s in store on the 26th:

First, Deslyn Dyer introduces Ricky: through him, we meet the Louis some people never knew — not only the musician, light-heartedly entertaining for fifty years and more, but the man in search of social justice, the civil rights pioneer:

Ricky then shares the story of the young sailor who greeted Louis by saying, “I don’t like Negroes, but I admire you,” a compliment that might have embittered a lesser man:

More stories: the New Orleans policeman; lynchings in the South.  Louis also explains his often misinterpreted relations with manager Joe Glaser:

Next, Louis tells his friends why an African-American artist would need “a white captain,” talks about being elected King of the Zulus in 1949, about recording SLEEPY TIME DOWN SOUTH for Decca, and the pervasiveness of racism:

When Nat Cole, playing for a segregated audience in Birmingham, Alabama, in 1956, was beaten by four men who jumped onstage, the African-American press condemned him, rather than sympathizing with him — which outraged Louis; he also responds to the segregation in New Orleans:

Louis’s violent reaction to what he saw on television in 1957 — in Little Rock, Arkansas: “I have a right to blow my top over injustice”:

And — as a triumphant, mournful climax — Louis’s shattering BLACK AND BLUE in East Berlin (1965), from which I’ve taken the title of this piece:

Louis’s story remains the saga of someone mis-seen and under-acknowledged, a man wounded by the people — of all races — he thought would understand him. 

But Louis prevailed and continues to prevail by embodying great joy in his music.

Ricky will be delivering this lecture again at the Louis Armstrong House Museum on Saturday, February 26th, at 1 and 3 PM.  The house is a remarkable down-to-earth shrine.  And Ricky’s a treasure.

FOR THE LOVE OF LOUIS, CLICK HERE.  ALL MONEY GOES TO THE MUSICIANS.

https://.paypal.com/cgi-bin/webscr?cmd=_s-xclick&hosted_button_id=VBURVAWDMWQASwww

 

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7 responses to ““BLACK AND BLUE”: LOUIS ARMSTRONG AND RACE by RICKY RICCARDI (Feb. 12, 2011)

  1. This is such important and moving material, so well and respectfully presented. Can’t wait to see Ricky’s book.

    Thanks Mr Riccardi for presenting it, and to “Jazz Lives” for recording and disseminating it.

    And thanks mostly for the intelligence, persistence and nobility of Louis and the magnificence which came through him.

    Pops lives!

  2. This is fantastic!! According to all of the articles that I have read about my father, he was one of the first white musicians to play with the negro bands,,,I am certainly not revolted by this, just very proud. Louis was a genius, as were some of the other black musicans, Thank you so much for this post,,,,I loved reading, and listening to it.

  3. Eleisa Marsala Trampler

    According to Joe Marsala there was no one like Louis Armstrong. Joe and his brother Marty, like so many Chicago area kids, got hooked on Jazz as soon as they heard it. Joe and Marty hung out in the alleys behind the jazz joints and practiced along with the bands inside and when the musicians came out during their breaks to play with the young guys in the alley then they knew they were getting good. Their was a great deal of respect to be had on both sides but Joe was always quick to mention that these New Orleans jazz players were very welcoming to the kids who wanted so much to learn the music from it’s source. Louis was one of the players who was always approachable and willing to pass on tips about playing as well as asking a newcomer to sit in. Louis and Joe became friends. Armstrong once asked Joe to recommend a good Italian restaurant. Joe said he knew the best one in the city, gave Louis the address and told him he would meet him there. When the appointed time came Armstrong drove up and not seeing a restaurant asked Joe where they were going. Joe pointed to his home on Clifton Avenue and told Louis he was about to have the best Italian meal of his life. The entire Marsala clan was there to welcome Armstrong to the dinner, a braciola made with ground veal, prosciutto, salami, and parmesan cheese rolled inside a slice of beef, mouthwatering! It was Mama Marsala’s specialty along with dessert canoli with ricotta, candied fruit, and shaved bitter chocolate. Louis was very gracious, staying through the evening, chatting with all, it was an evening to be remembered. And remember it he did. Twenty-five years later he invited me to dinner as well when I introduced myself as Joe Marsala’s daughter at an auto show in St. Louis where Armstrong was playing with his band. “Your father is one of the finest clarinet players I know,” said Louis, “is he still married to that beautiful harpist, Adele Girard?”

  4. Michael, thank you so much for posting this. So much wisdom and experience behind what people see as Louis’s naivete! There is obviously a lot more to Louis’s social philosophy than most “narratives” suggest. Looking forward to more of Ricky Ricciardi’s insights in his book. And you do a real service by getting the word out.

  5. I remember spending many happy hours listening to Mr. Strong and his friends in the company of Mr. Stu!

  6. What an extraordinary story! I’m very grateful to you for sharing it with us. The only problem is that now I’m ravenous for some good Italian food and it’s just after breakfast . . .

  7. Thanks for posting Michael. This is great stuff and beautifully, lovingly presented by Ricki. I’d expect nothing less from him.

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