Monk

Thelonious Monk was very much a product of the community that raised him. The community of San Juan Hill was extremely diverse and composed of southern blacks, West Indians, Cubans, and Puerto Ricans. As a result, distinct sub-communities were formed along racial lines, and race was often the stimulus for violence. San Juan Hill was “one of the ‘busiest crime areas in NYC (p.19),’” and residents had to be strong and rely on each other to survive. For example, in order to protect themselves from racial violence, black children walked to school in groups. Monk walked to school in a group, safe from other gangs, and saw firsthand the collective power that comes in numbers. The community of San Juan Hill instilled a strong sense of unity in Monk, and in order to survive the violence of San Juan Hill, Monk learned to rely and depend on others.

The community of San Juan Hill also shaped Monk’s opinions and feelings toward racism. Racism was prevalent in everyday life, manifesting itself at school where racial slurs flowed freely from teachers’ mouths and on the streets where fights between blacks and whites were commonplace. Yet San Juan Hill had another side to it, a positive, empowering side. Throughout San Juan Hill were testaments to black success. Walking through San Juan Hill, Monk could see black businesses and black establishments in which blacks were able to make their livings, independent from whites. Monk had successful black musicians like Freddy Johnson, “Bubber” Miley, and Russell Procope (p.27) as musical role models. Throughout the community, Monk saw examples of black success, and as a result, Thelonious saw racism as more of a troubling annoyance than a hindrance to success. To Monk, race would never prevent him from reaching his goals. To Monk, race “ain’t no drag (p.417).”

In the same light, Thelonious’ arrest in Delaware can be seen as a sort of bump in the road. Monk, Baroness Pannonica de Koenigswarter, and Charlie Rouse were all traveling to a gig in Baltimore, but they stopped in Delaware so Monk could get a drink. The attendant refused to serve him as Jim Crow laws were still prevalent and Monk was eventually arrested for a number of charges, including assault, battery and breach of peace. Monk’s cabaret card was revoked and he was facing jail time for the charges against him. However, the sense of kinship, fostered by San Juan Hill, manifested itself once more in Theophilus Nix and Harry Colomby. Nix was Monk’s defense attorney, who settled Monk’s legal troubles, and Colomby was his manager, that got Monk back on stage. Again, Monk was reminded of the power that comes in numbers. When Monk creates a community around him, he can overcome anything that comes his way.

This sentiment is further expressed in Monk’s music and his treatment of his musicians. Monk had his own musical direction and surround himself with musicians that could think instead of merely follow musical patterns (p.230). He took great pride in his ensembles and encouraged them not to be afraid to try anything so long as they feel it (p. 231). This ideal, initially instilled by his mother, defined the ensembles Monk created. Monk’s mother trusted him to make the right decisions and granted Monk a great degree of freedom. This sort of trust between Monk and his mother is mirrored in Monk’s trust in his ensembles. The unique, dissonant music that came from these ensembles created a unique community of listeners. These listeners were not seeking accessible, catchy melodies, but sought to be challenged by Monk’s art. The collective, unsupervised improvisation (p.231) of Monk’s music demanded more from the listener and created a new artistic following. Together, Monk and his ensembles elevated jazz to a new artistic acceptance. Collectively, Monk and his ensembles created a new musical community that gravitated toward their progressive artistry.

Note: all page references to Thelonious Monk by Robin D.G. Kelley

Race and Swing

By the 1930s, an era referred to as “The Swing Era,” jazz had reached a peak in popularity. Swing music, the newest amalgamation of jazz, was sweeping the nation. It was a fun, lively, danceable style of music with universal appeal, yet beneath this façade of joy and happiness were deep racial tensions, embedded into jazz culture. The newfound acceptance and establishment of jazz as a major entertainment form created a new market for jazz related media. Jazz publications such as Down Beat and Metronome provided a forum for musicians, critics and enthusiasts to voice opinions and ideas on the current state of jazz. And with controversial, racially charged events like The Scottsboro Case of 1931 and the emerging Popular Front movement, racial tensions were brought to the forefront of Americans’ consciousness. A certain tension between race and jazz had always existed, but events of the 1930s reignited the issues and conflicts between race and jazz.

Blacks in the 1930s experienced a new kind of unity with whites. Industrialization required a large labor force, yet working conditions were dismal. White workers would strike, protesting the abysmal conditions and black workers would be brought in to fill the white workers’ positions. However, with the union movement, in which blacks and whites united to fight American corporations, the Popular Front gained traction as a reprieve from the overbearing racial and social discrimination in America. The Popular Front movement and swing music were complementary entities, each becoming relevant in the 1930s. The Popular Front movement, with a community ethos and emphasis on unity, was a response to fascism, and swing music “moved its audience to liberating self-expression…free of hierarchical distinctions (Swing Changes).” The popularity of swing music and the increasingly powerful Popular Front brought race issues to the forefront of the American psyche. As a result, a number of media outlets weighed in on the issue.

One of the prominent voices of The Swing Era was John Hammond, an ardent proponent of jazz and civil rights. Coming from the Vanderbilt family and endowed with an annual trust fund, Hammond seemed an unlikely jazz advocate. A testament to the popularity of swing, Hammond managed and promoted the biggest stars in jazz such as Fletcher Henderson, Benny Goodman and Billie Holiday. Additionally, he was deeply involved in the Popular Front, so much so that he was under investigation by J. Edgar Hoover in the 1940s (Swing Changes). Further, Hammond held a concert that raised funds to defend the nine Scottsboro boys accused of raping two white women. Hammond represented a newly emerging, socially conscious, jazz aficionado.

Such political and musical affiliations put Hammond in a unique position of journalistic power. Writing for Down Beat, Hammond had a means of expression in the “journal that did the most to shape critical and popular opinion on jazz” (Swing Changes). Through Down Beat, Hammond criticized Duke Ellington for “shut[ting] his eyes to the abuses being heaped upon his race and his original class (Down Beat).” Ellington performed nightly at the Cotton Club in which blacks were prohibited. Hammond’s comments were indicative of his perceived role with respect to race and jazz. Ironically, he felt that he had transcended racism and was in a position to criticize Ellington although he believed that and blacks were innately superior jazz musicians (Swing Changes).

Hammond’s polarizing opinions were important, not so much in their veracity, but in their very expression. They forced thought and internalization of the complexity of race. The events of the time brought race to the forefront of the public eye, and critics like Hammond were able to express their opinions through various media outlets. After all, equality can only progress if injustices and inconsistencies are on the minds of the people.

It is interesting to note that there were varying degrees of racial engagement between black and white musicians. Benny Goodman, for example, played in one of the most popular racially integrated bands, yet he was more motivated by “zeal for musical excellence than any desire to be a social crusader (Gioia p. 144).” Whereas Ellington, chided for his racial apathy, confronted this tension in works such as “Black and Tan Fantasy” and “Harlem Speaks.” These examples shine light on the complexity of race, and indicate that not all jazz musicians were united under one front.