Clarinetist and saxophonist Cecil Scott remembered by Art Hodes:
I’ll never forget the day Baby Dodds and I visited Cecil at his home in Harlem (N.Y.C.). He had what we referred to as “a railroad flat.” It was a first floor apartment with a long hallway running through the length of the apartment. Cecil took us into the kitchen for a taste, then called in the family. He had 11 children, from the baby to the eldest going on seventeen. I had to ask, “Man, how do you guys operate?” To which he answered, “We eat in shifts and we sleep in tiers.”
One of the warmest people I knew, Cecil Scott. His smile was contagious. Here’s a guy, operating on one leg (and I won’t go into how he lost the other; the only story I heard was hearsay); always jolly and passing it on. People running in and out of his home; all day. Plus a few cats and a dog. Life all around him. And the spirit of that home, unbelievable.
I had a trio at Jimmy Ryan’s that consisted of Cecil (sax and clarinet) and Baby Dodds (drums) plus Chippie Hill (Bertha) doing the vocals. There was a performer. She’d go out, a’singing, to the end of the room, and start from there. And by the time she’d hit the bandstand she’d have “gathered her children” in; that whole audience was like in the palm of her hand. No mike. And Cecil could charm her. For when she came to work she could be in a mood; but Scott would look at her, and then say, “Chippie, where did you get that hat; you look beautiful.” And she’d wild, and beam. And we’d be together. They were beautiful people.
There was a style of clarinet playing we used to call “dirty.” Then there was a way of playing it that would make me think of someone a’callin’ to a chicken. Cecil knew all about that. It was later that I learned that the recording by Clarence Williams that I loved to listen to, especially because of the clarinet playing on it, was something Cecil had done. Yeh! And when my boy Bob was born, Cecil sent his oldest daughter over to my house to take care of things while my wife was hospitalized. “Man, don’t mention money, what do you wanna do? Insult me? I’m your friend.” And then one scene that keeps comin’ back.
I’d gone out to Harlem to do a benefit with Scott and others. It was a warm affair, and I partook of the goodies. In fact I “over” partook. Now we had to get to our gig (J. Ryan’s). I drove and Cecil sat beside me. It seemed bouncey, beautiful, with lights flashing on; most enjoyable. Even sirens. Eventually I got the message and stopped. I had been “bouncing” up and down on the snow-covered street, and the lights and sirens were the po-lice. I was “in a cast.” The one-legged man had to get out and talk to the gendarmes. He must have sounded convincing because I got off with a lecture. You know I’ll never forget Cecil.
EVERYBODY LOVES CECIL (by H. B. M.)
Cecil Scott was sitting on the stool before the piano, his elbow on the keys and his right leg thrust stiffly forward. I sat across from him on a metal framed settee that looked a little like a double seat on a bus. There were several similar chairs in the room, a few music stands, and a tenor sax case on top of the piano. On the walls were several posters and many photographs showing Cecil at various times in his career. His weight varied with each picture, for his hobby is food and he eats until he weighs 210, diets until he weighs 160, and starts all over again. He is about 170 now, going down.
Almost as soon as I had met him, I liked Cecil. He is as warm and companiable as a fireplace. He is an energetic man, too, despite that awkward, unwieldy, artificial right leg. He’d suddenly lunge across the room to show me something, and lunge back again. It was more like an idiosyncrasy than a handicap.
“I suppose you want to know about the children,” he said. “There are thirteen of them, and I’ve got three grandchildren, with one more on the way. They’re from my eldest daughter, the one that deserted me. She’s the only one of my girls to get married.” He seemed to be peeved about that. “I’ll bet that’s her in the hallway right now. She’s in this house most of the day.”
It was the prodigal daughter. She entered the house very spryly.
“Has he been tellin’ you ’bout my children?” she asked. “They call him ‘Big Brother.’ You trying to keep young, Daddy?”
Actually Cecil looked very young, more like a man of thirty than a grandfather, and his wife, who entered then, didn’t look old enough to be a grandparent either. A little girl, about nine years old, was with her. She looked timidly about the room. There was a large white bandage about her ankle.
“This is Elaine,” said Cecil. “She’s always wearing bandages. This morning it was her head. Now it’s her ankle. You run along, Elaine, and don’t you come back with that bandage ’round your nose.”
“But, let’s see now. About the music. It started when I was eleven years old out in Springfield, Ohio. I wanted to be a surgical doctor; spent all my time in doctors’ offices, and I figured I could make money with music. For two years I took lessons in clarinet and theory three times a week, and never missed a day. Started playin’ home dates with my brother Lloyd’s band. When I was seventeen I got married.”
“Eating is our big problem,” Cecil informed me. “Everybody has to eat in shifts. The little ones eat first shift, the middle ones second shift, and the big ones last shift. The dogs eat every shift.”
The house was full of children now. I could hear them moving everywhere. I met some more of the family, and Cecil coninued. He had come to New York and played with Lloyd’s band at the Saratoga Club. By 1928 he had his own band, and by 1930 was quite famous, playing at the Renaissance Ball Room with a band that had Roy Eldridge, Chu Berry, Dicky Wells, Frankie Newton, and Don Frye. Then he moved to the Savoy and trouble started.
“There was a girl at the Savoy,” said Cecil. “She had a man who was takin’ care of her, but she was makin’ quite a play for me. I didn’t pay her no mind until one night she asked me to a ‘rent party’ that her landlord was giving. It was one of those parties where they sold pigmeat and ‘white mule.’ There was a crap game going on and I started to win. I began buying everybody big pitchers of that white mule. Then her boy friend came in. There was some kind of misunderstanding right away. He slapped her, and she slapped him, and a fight started. Pitchers of while mule started flying through the air. Well, I had a big name, I had a reputation. I had to get out of there. I ran to the front door, but it had six locks I couldn’t open, so I ran to the back door. That had six locks too.
Well, I was a very active man in those days, so I jumped out the window, but it was a three story drop and I broke my ankle real bad.
Gangrene set in and they had to amputate several times. For a while the doctors didn’t have much hope. Chu Berry, my pupil, held the band together for me. Everyone was real nice. But, when I got out I didn’t feel like playin’. I was a very active man, used to jump off the piano with my saxophone and do a split on the floor, and things like that. I didn’t feel right standing with that band, a a cripple. So I disbanded it, although the boys sure didn’t want me to.
Then the neighbors started doing things for me. They brought me soup and stew, and stuff like that, and started sending me their kids to teach. First one, then two, then seven, eight, ten. I soon forgot about playing. For four and a half years I taught twelve to eighteen kids a day, and never had to advertise. At the same time I studied theory with Clarence Hall three times a week and took up weight lifting. I was too busy, and liked it that way.
It wasn’t until Albert Socarras, a flute player with a Latin band, came to see me that I started playing again. He needed a sax player real bad. I didn’t want to go but he and his wife finally persuaded me. I played three days, and they gave me leader’s pay. I’ve been playin’ off and on ever since.
I think that my wife is the real reason for most of my success. When I lost my leg and became sensitive, afraid to face people, she was the one who revived me and gave me confidence again. She’s always encouraged me. We were born in the same town, in the same month, in the same year. We went to the same school together! Why, she’s been with me all my life!”
from SELECTIONS FROM THE GUTTER, edited by Hodes and Chadwick Hansen, pp. 214-16.
May your happiness increase!
Pingback: EVERYBODY LOVES CECIL SCOTT | Chewbone
Such a great posting… the music too marvelous for words… so meaningful to “see” Cecil in a personal way such as this thanks to Hodes’ writing. Also to hear Billie sing… and another track with Stafford’s drumming. Thank you so much for the lift!
For what may be the best three minutes of Cecil on record, Clarence Williams’ “Savin’ Up For Baby” — tenor and clarinet.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5sFXOaCBj4s I wonder if this is the Clarence Williams record Art Hodes enjoyed listening to?
Beautiful memories, expressed beautifully. Thanks for sharing.
Scott’s recordings with Clarence Williams are some of my favorite music, such as “Milk Cow Blues, “Black Gal” and “Lady Luck Blues.” “Trouble,” with Stan Z. posted above, is also a gem. Scott has a delightfully humorous but confident sound on clarinet as well as tenor on those sides.
Franz Hoffmann, Back from holidays I saw your fine Cecil Scott stuff. Please understand when I would like to to give a link to my recent upload of Clarence Williams + Willie The Lion + Cecil Scott (ts,cl) in 1935,N.J.,, Murder In Harlem http://youtu.be/Xb9ETa1DiJk
If there would not be that beautifull dirty clarinet work by Cecil one could believe he play with himself in duo with a powerful sax. Has anybody an idea who is this sax player. Louis Jordan had played occasionally with Clarence in 1934 ???
It was a great treat to hear my grandfather play. No one misses him more than the large family he left behind. We love you Cecil.
Speaking as a family member of Cecil Scott, we thank you and truly appreciate these loving and kind words about the best husband, father and grandfather that existed.
We as a family enjoyed living and visiting this home, a warm and loving place that always was full of music. We all have wonderful memories and stories that we share with one another that helps to keep my grandfather and my grandmother alive.
His granddaughter from Norma Jean and named after his loving wife Nina
I am the eldest son of 5, of Cecil and Nina’s second daughter, Betty Louise. I had to privilege of being in my grandfather Cecil life from 1948 until he died.
I remember being in my grandparents home from an early age, observing his playing, rehearsing, and teaching music for many years. It is so refreshing to relive through the experience of Jazz Live, my granddad’s fame and friendships over the years, especially as expressed by Art Hodes.
What a great and loveable grandfather Cecil was. He was loved by all, hated by none, and respected by most!
Towards the end of his life, Cecil began to study the Bible with Jehovah’s Witnesses. He embraced what the Bible states at Rev. 21:3, 4.(look it up for yourselves) in a hope for life everlasting here on earth.
I can’t wait to see him again. This article reminded me of the time that the Bible promises when his family will see him again with his musicality, positive attitude and winning positive smile. What a good man, Great Scott!
His grandson # 3, but 6th in a line of a host of grandchildren.
Pingback: James P Johnson Mosaic - JHO2