Tag Archives: Ebay

“AMERICA’S LEADING COLORED THEATRE 125th ST. near 8th Ave. — Tel. UNiversity 4-4490”

If you know jazz and popular music, and something about that part of New York City called Harlem, then you must know about the Apollo Theatre.  And here are some lovely relics from it.

Here is the eBay link for one of these holy artifacts from 1938, 1942, and 1946.  (You can find the other two with a click or two.)  Wondrous pieces of paper that delineate a world of music so delicious it’s hard to imagine now.  I’ve provided somewhat of an idiosyncratic soundtrack of artists who have appeared at the Apollo.

But here’s the evidence, first from 1938:

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1942:

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and 1946:

If you can read these pieces of paper without wishing, “Goodness, why wasn’t I born then?” you are operating on a different level of sentimentality and emotion. But for the rest of us, these are doors into wonderful universes.

May your happiness increase!

AUDREY ARBUCKLE, “BUCKLES,” A DEVOTED JAZZ FAN (1954-56)

Since jazz fans seem — note I say seem — to be overwhelmingly male, it’s lovely to find this collection of jazz autographs collected by the young jazz fan Audrey Arbuckle, between 1954-56 in Chicago.  My guess is that “Buckles,” born July 19, 1931, is no longer collecting autographs and may no longer be with us, but I can’t prove it.

Here’s the seller’s description:

Here is a unique and amazing collection of famous jazz musician autographs on matchbooks, tickets and table cards put together during 1954-1956 by a young college student nicknamed “Buckles” who went to jazz clubs like the original Blue Note in Chicago and the Basin Street East.

Eventually Buckles had the autographs she collected laminated between a clear plastic sheet.

On one side, are the autographs of jazz legends Lester Young, Louis Armstrong, Duke Ellington, Dave Brubeck, Coleman Hawkins, Illinois Jacquet, Chet Baker, Carmen McRae, Sonny Stitt, Paul Quinichette (“Vice-Prez” to Lester’s “Prez”), Roy Eldridge, Jeri Southern and Paul Desmond. There is even the team of Kai Winding and J. J. Johnson whose combined autographs together, on the same page, from the same club date, is very hard to find.

On the other side of the laminated sheet is: Count Basie, the tragic, talented jazz singer Beverly Kenney, Bob Bates, drummer Candido, singer Chris Connor and the great Paul Gonslaves who signed his name on part of a Duke Ellington ticket. Gonsalves famously blew 27 insane bars during his sax solo on “Diminuendo and Crescendo in Blue” that sent the crowd at the 1956 Newport Jazz Festival into a frenzy and put Duke Ellington’s band, which had been going through a popularity slump, back in its rightful place. Also a picture of “Buckles” who got the autographs.

The laminated page — which no doubt preserved those sixty-five year old scraps of paper, although oddly — is up for bid at $850 or “best offer,” and here is the link.

And the photographic evidence: some of these signatures (Beverly Kenney!) are incredibly rare — but to think of this young woman who saw and heard so much, it’s astonishing.  The front side of the page, which takes some careful viewing:

and the reverse:

and some close-ups, the first, Dave Brubeck:

then, the two trombone team of Jay and Kai:

Paul Gonsalves, who played tenor saxophone:

then, Coleman Hawkins and Illinois Jacquet:

and Chet Baker:

Louis, Velma, Arvell, and Barrett Deems:

The Maestro:

and what is the prize of the collection (second place goes to Beverly Kenney’s neat handwriting) a Lester Young autograph.  Even though it looks as though it was written on a piece of Scotch tape, such deity-sightings are rare:

and, a little music, lest we forget the point of these exalted scribbles:

Wherever you are now, Buckles, whatever names you took later in life, know that we cherish you and your devotion.  Did you graduate college, have a career, get married and have a family?  The laminated page says to me that these signatures and experiences were precious.  But what happened to you?  I wish I knew.

This just in, thanks to Detective Richard Salvucci, formerly of the Philadelphia police force, and one of this blog’s dearest readers: https://www.findagrave.com/memorial/113718218 — which suggests that Audrey Ellen Arbuckle was born in 1934 and died in 2009, buried in an Erie, Pennsylvania cemetery.  I wish she were here to read this, but I am sure her spirit still swings.

May your happiness increase!

BILLIE, SEVERAL TIMES

First, and most striking, even though the disc is in G+ condition.

Here’s another photograph — less sharp but closer in:

The eBay link is here, should you want to spend $799.00 on it outright or start bidding.  Or, you could buy this disc for just under $25 (the seller says it’s in V condition, but as we know such things are terribly subjective:

I’m not proposing any criminal acts, but you’d have a great deal of money left over for a pen and white ink at your local crafts store. Or you could listen to Billie sing NIGHT AND DAY for free:

And if your optimism is threatening to overpower your life, GLOOMY SUNDAY may be just the thing to offset it with darkness:

But hearing Billie and seeing a holy relic should not be gloomy.

May your happiness increase!

“CAN YOU GET BACK IN?”

“When did you leave heaven?” may not be in anyone’s list of the worst pick-up lines (which, in 2019, are far more salacious) but I doubt that it would effectively start a conversation with an attractive stranger — I mean a conversation where the response was more promising than “Get away from me.”  But the impulse to call someone we’re attracted to divine is venerable and strong.

A Mexican image of the divine feminine, from my favorite folk art gallery, eBay.

There are many songs where the loved one is described as an angel, but here’s a tender and witty one, music by Richard Whiting, lyrics by Walter Bullock, from the 1936 film featuring Alice Faye, SING, BABY, SING (a song revitalized by the cheerful Bill Crow).  Follow me into adoration territory in swingtime.

Henry “Red” Allen in all his glory, playing and singing, 1936:

and a more famous version from 1942 with a famous clarinetist under wraps for two minutes, a session led by Mel Powell, and featuring colleagues from that clarinetist’s orchestra except for Al Morgan and Kansas Fields.

Thank goodness for the first forty-five seconds devoted to that hero, Lou McGarity, before it becomes Mel’s own Bobcats:

Mel Powell, Jimmy Buffington, Bobby Donaldson, a dozen years later, and one of my favorite recordings — a Goodman Trio without the King:

Something you wouldn’t expect, Big Bill Broonzy, 1956:

and the intensely passionate reading Jimmy Scott gave the song in 2000 (with our hero Michael Kanan in duet):

and the Master.  Consider that stately melody exposition, how simple and how moving, and Louis’ gentle yet serious reading of the lyrics is beyond compare.  Complaints about the surrounding voices will be ignored; they’re the heavenly choir:

Love has the power to make the Dear Person seem so much better than merely human, and this song celebrates it.  As we do.

May your happiness increase!

CHARLIE PARKER in SWEDEN (1950): “$3000 or BEST OFFER (FREE SHIPPING)” / KID ORY and RED ALLEN in DENMARK (1959)

Bird went to Sweden, and here’s singular proof.  The eBay link is here and here are some impressive photographs of the holy relic:

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and some aural evidence also:

Kid Ory and Henry “Red” Allen toured Europe in 1959: here, a Danish collector got the band’s autographs:

and this is the link.

The band did more than sign autographs!  Pay close attention to Henry Red in his late, musing phase:

May your happiness increase!

O.P., IRVING, LOUIS

Last night, while in an eBay reverie, I was grazing through the meadow of Entertainment Memorabilia, sub-section Jazz, sub-sub section Original Autographs, when I found these three artifacts.  To some, they may seem irreplaceable treasures; to others, just weird debris.  The first seller had purchased a huge collection of Danish paper ephemera and added it to his already expansive holdings, the latter laid out for your pleasure here.

I’d never seen an Oscar Pettiford autograph before, and this one is from the last years of his too-short life.  The red diagonals suggest that this is, rather than an autograph for a fan, the return address — upper left corner — taken from an air-mail envelope.  Whether that increases or decreases value, I don’t know.  I haven’t identified the Copenhagen hotel, but since the autograph would be, at latest, from 1960, it is possible the hotel no longer exists:

And here is a very touching and brief remembrance of Oscar with guitarist Attila Zoller — performing Oscar’s THE GENTLE ART OF LOVE in Denmark, perhaps not that far away in time from the envelope above:

Then, something more odd: a photograph of Irving Mills and two men I don’t recognize, inscribed lovingly to film star Dorothea Summers, from whose collection this came:

and a magnified inscription:

Here is a promotional short film (or most of it) from 1931, where Irving Mills introduces three of his bands: Baron Lee and the Blue Rhythm Orchestra; Duke Ellington (with pleasing closeups of Arthur Whetsol), and Cab Calloway, with Al Morgan stealing the scene.  I thought that glimpses of Mills, reading from the script on his desk, would be easier on the nerves than his singing:

Finally, something I found exciting, even though it isn’t inscribed.  Louis Armstrong had a heart attack in June 1959, and I now assume that he received get-well cards from everyone who loved him . . . that’s a-plenty.  I had never seen his singularly Louis thank-you card, and a collector possessed not only the card but a publicity photograph that may have come with it:

I would like you to commit Louis’ poem to memory, please:

Here’s Louis in 1960 on the Bell Telephone Hour — magnificent readings of SUNNY SIDE OF THE STREET, LAZY RIVER, and a heartbreaking SOMETIMES I FEEL LIKE A MOTHERLESS CHILD, before a MUSKRAT RAMBLE that puts Louis with a modern version of the Mills Brothers who sing a version of the lyrics from BING AND SATCHMO:

May your happiness increase!

HOLLYWOOD’S FIRST SWING CONCERT: A TRIBUTE TO JOE SULLIVAN (1937)

Before anyone gets too excited, I do not have acetates or videos of this event to share with you.  All I can offer is the souvenir program, which was on sale a month ago on eBay here for $300.  This item does not seem to have sold, but the seller ended the sale.  If someone were interested, I’d suggest contacting the seller and opening negotiations again.

This program was from a benefit for Joe, ill with tuberculosis, from which he recovered.  I had never seen this paper treasure before; I thought you, too, would be intrigued.  And I’ve inserted some contemporaneous recordings by Joe to keep the display from being silent.  Since I’ve never seen or heard evidence that this concert was broadcast or that airshots or transcription discs exist, this paper chronicle is all we have.  It must have been a lovely evening of music and feeling.

and this, from 1945 (Archie Rosati, clarinet; Ulysses Livingston, guitar; Artie Shapiro, string bass; Zutty Singleton, drums — on the SUNSET label):

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and SUMMERTIME, 1941, Commodore:

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another Decca solo from 1935:

and (Larry and Everett were Crosby brothers; Bing had a large role in this):

and Joe’s Cafe Society Orchestra, with Ed Anderson, Big Joe Turner, Benny Morton, Ed Hall:

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and the Cafe Society Orchestra with Helen Ward:

and what an assortment of stars and bands!

and LADY BE GOOD from the same band, in a performance I’d bet stretched out longer when live (Danny Polo takes the tenor solo):

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and I CAN’T GIVE YOU ANYTHING BUT LOVE by the same band, with Ed Anderson building on Louis and Big Joe Turner making it a blues:

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Joe recovered and lived on until October 1971, which to me shows the sustaining power of community in times of stress and despair.

May your happiness increase!