Passing notes in class: listening to pedagogical improvisations in jazz history

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Content University
of
Southern
California

Passing
Notes
in
Class

Listening
to
Pedagogical
Improvisations
in
Jazz
History

A
dissertation
submitted
in
partial
satisfaction

of
the
requirements
of
the
degree
of

DOCTOR
OF
PHILOSOPHY

in

AMERICAN
STUDIES
AND
ETHNICITY

by

Adam
S.
Bush

December
2014

Committee

Professor
Robin
D.G.
Kelley,
History,

University
of
California
at
Los
Angeles

(Co-‐
chair)

Professor
George
Sanchez,
American

Studies
&
Ethnicity
and
History,
USC

(Co-‐
chair)

Associate
Professor
Josh
Kun,
Annenberg

School
for
Communication
and
Journalism,

USC

Passing Notes in Class
Listening to Pedagogical Improvisations in Jazz History

Adam Bush

2

ABSTRACT

Passing
Notes
in
Class
revises
common
narratives
of
jazz
history
through
an
examination

of
the
origins
of
institutionalized
jazz
education.

In
the
early
20
th

century,
as
segregated
Black

public
schools
grew,
students
began
to
demand
a
place
for
black
culture
and
history
in
the

school
curriculum.
Moving
away
from
music
programs
that
focused
upon
choirs
and
spirituals,

music
teachers
soon
established
strong
instrumental
classes
that
focused
upon
black
popular

music.

Too
many
histories
of
this
music
have
positioned
improvisation
as
something
innate
to

the
musician,
the
environment,
or
the
culture
and
performance
as
isolated,
spontaneous

incidents.
The
music
programs
discussed
here,
primarily
in
Los
Angeles,
Birmingham,
Chicago,

and
Oklahoma
City,
established
some
of
the
first
state
sponsored
jazz
practice
sessions
and,
in

doing
so,
laid
fertile
ground
for
the
development
of
generations
of
black
musicians
and
others

who
used
the
principles
of
improvisation
in
a
number
of
career
paths.

While
focusing
specifically
on
the
stories
of
Zelia
N.
Breaux,
John
‘Fess
Whatley,
Samuel

R.
Browne,
and
Capt.
Walter
H.
Dyett,
through
oral
histories
of
students,
musicians,
and

community
leaders,
this
dissertation
listens
to
music
history
through
relationships,
not

performance.
By
examining
these
classrooms,
this
dissertation
positions
pedagogical

relationships
and
the
community
formations
that
developed
out
of
them
as
the
basis
for
any

performance,
and
places
these
performances
as
just
one
aspect
in
the
sound,
culture,
and

Passing Notes in Class
Listening to Pedagogical Improvisations in Jazz History

Adam Bush

3
history
of
jazz.
The
chapters
focus
on
moments
of
institutionalization
of
musical
instruction

within
black
high
schools
in
various
cities
throughout
America
and
use
these
moments
as

windows
into
the
role
of
migration,
student
activism,
community
arts,
urban
planning,
and

multi-‐ethnic
collaboration
in
jazz
history
and
the
history
of
the
United
States.

“Pedagogical

Improvisations”
discussed
within
this
dissertation
refer
to
strategies
that
teachers
employed
to

navigate
the
social
conditions
of
music
making
and
instruction
in
these
institutions.

By
studying
networks
of
community
and
apprenticeship
within
these
various
regions,

this
dissertation
offers
something
akin
to
a
territorial
history
of
jazz,
as
well
as
an
original

framework
for
documenting
and
understanding
the
evolution
of
modern
Black
music.

Challenging
the
idea
that
jazz
is
created
and
passed
down
on
the
bandstand,
the
recording

studio,
and
the
tour
bus,
“Passing
Notes”
explores
how
communities
are
formed
and

knowledges
are
passed
down
generationally.
They
are
stories
of
how
Black
community
leaders

throughout
America
created
musical
institutions
that
managed
to
teach
what
were-‐-‐and

imagine
what
might
be-‐-‐new
possibilities
to
simultaneously
migrate
and
remain
at
home.
In
a

sense,
jazz
has
always
vacillated
between
claiming
(and
being
claimed
by)
its
roots
and
its

rootless-‐ness:
it
is
a
music
of
motion,
of
improvisation,
of
being
“always
complete
and
never

finished,”
as
much
as
it
is
a
music
that
reflects
the
unique
conditions
of
urban
culture
in
which
it

was
born.

Passing Notes in Class
Listening to Pedagogical Improvisations in Jazz History

Adam Bush

4
Table
of
Contents

PART
I:
HISTORY
&
INSTITUTIONS

PAGE
5

Jazz
Historiography

The
Struggles
of
Institutions
and
Nathaniel
Clark
Smith

Brief
History
of
Jazz
Pedagogy
and
Mentorship
in
High
Schools

Defining
Pedagogical
Improvisations

PART
II:
TEACHERS
&
THEIR
IMPROVISATIONS

PAGE
62

The
Discipline
of
Birmingham’s
John
‘Fess
Whatley

The
Motions
of
Oklahoma
City’s
Zelia
N.
Breaux

The
Relationships
of
Chicago’s
Captain
Walter
Henri
Dyett

The
Environment
of
Los
Angeles’
Samuel
R.
Browne

PART
III:
JAZZ
LEGACIES

PAGE
145

Thoughts
on
Legacies

Jazz
and
Oral
History

Jazz
as
Engaged
Research

Jazz
and
Higher
Education

Acknowledgements

Coda

PAGE
192

College
Unbound
2014
Commencement
Speech
on
Improvisation

Bibliography

PAGE
203

Archival
Sources

Periodicals

Interviews
and
Influences

Books
and
Articles

Passing Notes in Class
Listening to Pedagogical Improvisations in Jazz History

Adam Bush

5

PART
I

HISTORY
&
INSTITUTIONS

Passing Notes in Class
Listening to Pedagogical Improvisations in Jazz History

Adam Bush

6
Jazz
Historiography

Many
historians
speak
of
jazz
as
if
it
has
always
existed,
as
if
the
radical
change
in

popular
music
around
1916—a
change
so
revolutionary
that
a
new
name
was
required

to
distinguish
it
from
the
ragtime
so
prevalent
throughout
the
country
at
that
time—
never
really
occurred.

H.
O.
Brunn,
The
Story
of
the
Original
Dixieland
Jazz
Band
1

You
will,
however,
learn
about
the
pioneers
and
about
the
early
lives
of
the
men
who
left

and
became
famous;
about
the
men
who
stayed
in
the
city
and
developed
a
local
brand

of
music
which
can
be
heard
only
on
a
pitifully
few
recordings.

Samuel
B.
Charters,
Jazz:
New
Orleans
1885-‐1957
An
Index
to
the

Negro
Musicians
of
New
Orleans
2

Why
it
is
a
disgrace
to
the
whole
human
history!

The
sounds
these
animals
make
after
a
big
meal
of
oats
and
corn
ire
far
less
offensive
to

both
nose
and
ear
and
more
deserving
to
be
called
music
than
this
so-‐called
jazz!

The
trumpet
is
a
man
with
dignity…
we
will
leave
the
baying
to
jackasses
and
plunger

clogged
toilets

-‐Ralph
Ellison
Unpublished
Excerpt,
Invisible
Man
3

Unlike
Invisible
Man’s
narrator’s
embrace
of
the
power
and
deep
meaning
of
black

music
in
the
opening
pages
of
the
novel,
the
excerpt
on
the
preceding
page
from
unpublished

draft
pages
detailing
his
musical
education,
Ellison
includes
a
scene
with
a
college
bandleader

unenthused
by
the
sounds
of
jazz.

These
sentiments,
in
many
ways,
echo
Ellison’s
own
teacher

at
the
Tuskegee
Institute,
Williams
Dawson,
and
that
of
his
predecessor,
Major
Nathaniel
Clark

Smith,
the
first
bandleader
hired
by
Booker
T.
Washington
who,
though
he
mentored
numerous

1

H.O.
Brunn,The
Story
of
the
Original
Dixieland
Jazz
Band
(Baton
Rouge:
Louisiana
State

University
Press,
1960).
1.

2

Samuel
B.
Charters,
Jazz:
New
Orleans
1885-‐1957
An
Index
to
the
Negro
Musicians
of
New

Orleans.
Jazz
Monographs
No.
2
(Walter
C.
Allen
Belleville,
NJ
February
1958)
3.

3

Box
I:
225
Ralph
Ellison
Papers,
Manuscript
Division,
Library
of
Congress,
Washington,
DC

Passing Notes in Class
Listening to Pedagogical Improvisations in Jazz History

Adam Bush

7
jazz
musicians
in
cities
throughout
the
country,
focused
his
teaching
efforts
on
marching
bands

and
orchestral
compositions
of
Black
folk
music.

The
story
of
Nathaniel
Clark
Smith
begins
this
study
because
the
history
of
Smith’s
life’s
work

in
music
performance,
composition,
and
education
provide
an
important
overview
and
entry
point

to
the
generation
of
music
educators
that
follows
him
and
are
the
subject
of
this
study.

Born
in

1877,
Smith
grew
up
in
Fort
Leavenworth,
Kansas,
where
he
studied
music
under
the
direction
of

H.E.
Gungle,
a
German
bandleader
employed
by
the
armed
forces,
and
then
during
his
own
stint
in

the
army
where
he
served
as
an
Army
trumpeter
through
his
years
of
service
(unable
to
fight

because
of
a
diagnosed
eye
problem).

Reminiscing
years
later,

Smith
told
of
Frederick
Douglass’

visit
through
Kansas
where
Douglass
joined
the
Smith
family
for
dinner
and,
following
the
meal,

Smith
was
asked
to
accompany
Douglass
in
performing
“Steal
Away
to
Jesus”
for
his
family.
4

Smith
moved
with
his
wife
to
Chicago
and
tried
to
make
a
living
as
a
performer,
conductor,

and
composer.

While
several
of
his
compositions
became
well
know
(an
arrangement
of
“Steal

Away
to
Jesus”
among
them)
Smith
struggled
in
the
private
sector.

He
soon
took
a
position
at
the

Tuskegee
Institute
where
he
worked
to
grow
their
band
program
in
Alabama
as
well
as
their

traveling
music
program.

Smith’s
success
at
Tuskegee
as
well
as
other
higher
education
and
high

school
music
programs
was
matched
against
his
struggles
to
create
new
programs
for
Black
students

to
play
instrumental
music.

His
frequent
moving
between
institutions
shows
a
lack
of
comfort
in

being
able
to
institutionalize
these
music
programs
and,
although
he
birthed
generations
of

4

Linda
Pohly,

"N.
Clark
Smith's
Life
and
Work
in
Wichita:
Toward
a
More
Complete
Biography,"

The
Bulletin
of
Historical
Research
in
Music
Education
19,
no.
2
(1998),
73

Passing Notes in Class
Listening to Pedagogical Improvisations in Jazz History

Adam Bush

8
musicians
throughout
the
country,
was
rarely
around
to
see
them
graduate
during
his
tenure
at
any

one
institution.

This
relationship,
between
teachers
who
were
balancing
calls
of
vocation,

professionalization,
and
music
mentorship
and
a
student
body,
like
Ralph
Ellison,
who
was

demanding
curricular
change
to
mirror
cultural
changes
outside
of
the
classroom,
was

happening
throughout
the
country
in
the
early
20
th

century.

This
is
a
territorial
history
of
jazz

music,
in
part
because
of
the
territorial
lines
drawn
within
(or
around)
the
high
school
music

classroom,
but
it
is
also
a
generational
one.
They
are
stories
of
cultural
inheritance
as
well
as

how
those
legacies
are
challenged.

It
is
about
how
communities
are
formed
and
knowledges

are
passed
down.

The
instructor
who
speaks
in
the
Ellison
quote
above
is
caught
between
two

generational
shifts
of
power—from
founders
of
schools
for
African
Americans
at
the
turn
of
the

century
who
were
embracing
black
folks
songs
of
the
antebellum
South
for
both
publicity
and

philanthropy,
to
teachers
looking
to
impart
classical
music
training
to
students
with
an
eye

toward
professionalization
and
vocation,
to
students
looking
to
bring
a
20
th

century
folk

tradition
of
jazz
and
black
music
into
their
classroom.

Ellison,
himself,
an
avid
jazz
fan,
critic,
and
musician,
was
a
protégé
of
Zelia
Breaux,

designer
of
the
music
program
for
all
of
Oklahoma
City’s
African
American
public
schools.

Breaux’s
own
1939
Masters’
thesis
for
Northwestern
University
makes
claim
to
this
shift
in

black
public
schools:

For
a
long
period
of
years,
this
work
[that
of
music
courses
in
the
public
school]

has
been
carried
on
in
the
white
schools
of
the
country.

The
case
has
not
been

the
same
in
Negro
schools.

Just
in
the
last
thirty
or
thirty-‐five
years
has
music
as

study
been
given
in
Negro
schools.

One
reason
has
been—the
Negro
could

Passing Notes in Class
Listening to Pedagogical Improvisations in Jazz History

Adam Bush

9
sing—from
the
smallest
to
the
largest,
from
the
youngest
to
the
oldest,-‐-‐
why

bother
about
the
theoretical
side?

As
a
result,
the
Negro
youth
has
just
“sung,”

has
just
made
beautiful
harmonies
and
knew
nothing
of
what
he
was
doing
other

than
“singing.
5

In
the
early
20
th

century,
as
segregated
black
public
schools
grew,
students
began
to
demand

through
editorials
in
school
newspapers
around
the
country
a
place
for
black
culture
and

history
in
the
school
curriculum.

Moving
away
from
music
programs
that
focused
upon
choirs

and
spirituals,
music
teachers
soon
established
strong
instrumental
classes
that
focused
upon

black
popular
music.

In
Oklahoma
City,
St.
Louis,
Pittsburgh
and
many
other
urban
areas
outside
of
jazz’s

traditional
New
Orleans-‐Chicago-‐New
York
trajectory,
there
were
educators
who
worked
to

institutionalize
jazz
as
an
accepted
medium
for
artistic
expression.

While
examining
these

teachers
serve
to
retune
our
cultural
ear
to
listen
to
under-‐represented
jazz
’hotspots,’
this

study
of
music
pedagogy
also
aims
to
do
much
more.

When
considering
cities
like
Chicago
or

Los
Angeles
–
cities
acknowledged
for
their
expansive
Black
music
culture
–listening
to
the

stories
of
educators
and
their
institutions
changes
the
very
story
of
jazz’s
relationship
to
the

city.

It
is
almost
heretical
to
center
pedagogy
in
jazz
studies
considering
the
way
this
music
is

historiographically
positioned.

The
most
recent
New
Grove
Dictionary
of
Jazz,
the
most

comprehensive
collection
of
jazz
information
contains
countless
entries
on
musicians,
clubs,

5

Zelia
Breaux,
“The
Development
of
Instrumental
Music
in
Negro
Secondary
Schools
and

Colleges:
A
Thesis”
Northwestern
University,
1939

Passing Notes in Class
Listening to Pedagogical Improvisations in Jazz History

Adam Bush

10
instruments,
even
styles
of
play,
but
there
is
no
entry
on
Education
or
styles
of
pedagogy.
6

Early
histories
of
Black
music
in
the
20
th

century
positioned
sound
as
something
innate
in
the

bodies
of
people
of
color.

That
they
felt
music
and
thus
could
play
it
was
the
prevailing
notion

of
“early
jazz
historians
who,
in
attempting
to
escape
their
American
prejudices,
turned
out
a

whole
new
world
of
new
clichés
based
on
the
myth
of
the
innate
ability
of
early
jazz

musicians.”
7

Countering
this
in
mid-‐century
musical
histories,
historians
began
to
emphasize

the
practice
regimes
of
musicians—if
it
wasn’t
innate
ability,
it
was
individual
mastery.

Histories
like
Gunther
Schuller’s
Early
Jazz;
Its
Roots
and
Musical
Development
describe
jazz’s

soloists
as
individuals
who
“transcended
the
context
[of
New
Orleans’
Storyville]
and
its

implications.”
8

They
told
heroic
tales
of
musicians
fighting
against
social
conditions
of
poverty

and
segregation
and
rising
against
them
to
emerge
triumphant.

Music,
in
these
older
histories,

traveled
because
musicians
themselves
traveled
or
had
beginnings
because
specific
musicians

had
territorial
origins.

But
bodies
are
not
all
that
travels.

Recently,
historians
have
begun
to

rewrite
music
history—not
based
upon
the
body
of
the
musician
or
the
individual
struggle,
but

as
a
community
art
that
reflects
and
is
reflected
in
the
social
surroundings
of
its
origins
and
its

many
migrations.

When
historians
today
use
the
music
as
a
cartographical
tool
for
looking
at

the
history
of
migration,
a
new
understanding
of
how
music
and
musicians
travel—through

6

There
do
exist
entries
on
specific
educators
(Walter
Dyett
and
Samuel
Browne),
but
as
I
will

show
suffer
from
the
same
limitations
endemic
to
much
of
jazz
historiography.

Eileen
Southern.
The
Music
of
Black
Americans:
A
History.
2nd
ed.
(New
York:
W.W.
Norton,

1983)
287-‐291.

7

Wynton
Marsalis.
"What
Jazz
Is—and
Isnt."
New
York
Times,
July
31,
1988.

8

Gunther
Schuller,
Early
Jazz:
Its
Roots
and
Musical
Development.
(New
York:
Oxford
University

Press,
1986.)
89.

Passing Notes in Class
Listening to Pedagogical Improvisations in Jazz History

Adam Bush

11
“inhabiting
[of
places]
while
moving
across
them—of
arriving
while
leaving”
9
—emerges
in
our

historiographical
purview.

In
Edward
B.
Birge’s
1928
work,
History
of
Public
School
Music
Education,
the
most
complete

study
of
its
time
concerning
music
pedagogy
in
the
United
States,
not
a
reference
is
made
to
the

programs
of
African
Americans
or
other
minorities
10
.

Birge’s
omission
was
no
simple
oversight;

these
music
programs
not
only
existed
in
black
communities
prior
to
his
writing,
they
flourished
and

played
an
integral
part
in
community
life.

As
one
Douglass
High
School
alumnus
from
Oklahoma
City

recalled,
“Mrs.
Breaux’s
band
gave
the
whole
town
something
to
cheer
for.

Everyone
came
out
to

those
parades.

We
[the
band]
had
to
be
last
in
the
line,
you
know;
cause
if
we
went
earlier,
the

whole
town
would’ve
left
the
parade
early.”
11

This
community
support
serves
to
emphasize
the

importance
of
music
programs
and
the
teachers
that
worked
to
create
them.

Through
their
classes,

these
teachers,
like
Zelia
Breaux,
the
band
director
from
Oklahoma
City,
provided
vocational

preparation
for
future
musicians,
opportunities
for
scholarships
to
allow
their
students
to
continue

their
education
in
college,
and
even
leadership
training
for
the
next
generation
of
racial
pioneers.

Research
on
much
of
the
history
of
segregated
education
is
as
one-‐sided
as
Birge’s
work.

Too
much
of
the
literature
concerning
the
public
schooling
of
African
Americans
during
de-‐jure

segregation
has
concentrated
on
the
substandard
education
the
African
American
school
children

9

Josh
Kun.
Audiotopia
Music,
Race,
and
America.
(Berkeley,
Calif.:
University
of
California
Press,

2005),
22.

10

Edward
Bailey
Birge.
History
of
Public
School
Music
in
the
United
States.
Boston,
Oliver
Ditson

Company,
1928

11

Leroy

Parks,.
Interview
with
the
author,
Oklahoma
City,
Oklahoma,
March
1,
2004

Passing Notes in Class
Listening to Pedagogical Improvisations in Jazz History

Adam Bush

12
received.
12

While
the
inequality
of
resources
compared
to
those
found
in
white
high
schools
is

blatantly
apparent,
to
examine
the
segregated
education
system
solely
by
looking
at
what
was
not

available
paints
an
unfinished
picture
of
the
educational
environment.

At
the
turn
of
the
century,
as

the
federal
funding
for
black
education
that
had
begun
with
Reconstruction
was
drastically
reduced,

black
communities
were
forced
to
rely
on
their
own
resources
to
educate
their
children.

Through

petitioning
the
local
boards
of
education,
black
leaders
were
able
to
obtain
funds
to
build
this
first

generation
of
black
public
high
schools.
13

With
this
assertion
of
ownership,
African
Americans

demanded
these
high
schools
play
a
prominent
role
as
centers
of
communal
life.

In
rural
Alabama,

for
example,
one
advertisement
for
property
near
the
newly
constructed
Tuscumbia
high
school

asked
its
citizens
to
“cluster
your
homes
around
your
church,
your
school,
your
hall
of
fellowship,

and
especially
near
the
home
of
your
devoted
and
earnest
principal
and
teacher.”

14

As
one

Tuscumbia
citizen
noted,
“there
was
a
real
sense
of
community.

I
mean
the
school
being
the

centerpiece
of
the
small
community,
the
small
black
community…
So,
everything
kind
of
focused
and

circulated
around
that
little
area
where
we
lived.”
15

Even
recent
studies
of
jazz
music
make
reference
to,
but
rarely
create
space
for
stories
of

high
school
music
education’s
place
in
Jazz
history
(and
its
future).

In
the
recent,
excellent
collection

“People
Get
Ready:
The
Future
of
Jazz
is
Now,”
the
editors
in
their
introduction
“add
a
brief
note

about
the
significance
of
pedagogy
in
the
forms
of
music
discussed”
in
their
volume.

“While

12

Vivian
Gunn
Morris,.
The
Price
They
Paid,
(New
York,
NY
Teacher
College
Press
2002),
2
and

Walker,
Vanessa
Siddle.
Their
Highest
Potential.
(University
of
North
Carolina
Press,
NC
1996),
1

13

Un-‐credited
excerpt
from
Birmingham’s
Southern
History
Department
Vertical
File
on
The

Origin
and
Development
of
Secondary
Education
for
Negroes.
35

14

Vivian
Gunn
Morris,.
The
Price
They
Paid,
(New
York,
NY
Teacher
College
Press
2002),
7

15

ibid.

Passing Notes in Class
Listening to Pedagogical Improvisations in Jazz History

Adam Bush

13
jazz
music
has
been
institutionalized
in
many
schools
throughout
the
world—from
grade
school

to
the
university—the
musicians
themselves,
as
Cecil
Taylor
once
said,
are
their
“own

academies”
(quoted
in
Wilmer
51).

From
another
perspective,
the
more
traditional
definition

of
the
“academic”
take
on
jazz
has
been
perennially
viewed
as
irrelevant
to
the
“authentic”

experience
of
performers
(another
version
of
that
tired
cliché,
“those
who
do,
do,
those
who

cant,
teach”).

But
the
presence
of
a
significant
number
of
“out”
jazz
musicians
in
the
academy

should
give
pause
to
those
who
feel
that
the
more
spiritual,
few,
or
experimental
versions
of

jazz
cannot
be
taught,
as
well
as
to
those
who
feel
that
free
jazz
has
not
made
significant
in-‐
roads
into
public
institutions.”

The
authors
continue
to
list
off
musicians
who
have
made
time

for
“directly
educating
young
students
in
an
institutional
format:”
musicians
like
Anthony

Braxton,
at
Wesleyan;
Wadada
Leo
Smith,
Charlie
Haden,
and
Vinnie
Golia
at
Cal
Arts;
Roscoe

Mitchell
and
Fred
Frith,
at
Mills;
George
Lewis,
at
Columbia;
Andrew
Cyrille,
at
the
New
School;

Anthony
Davis
and
Mark
Dresser
at
UCSD;
Gerry
Hemingway,
at
the
Hochschule
Luzern;
Pauline

Oliveros,
at
Rensselaer
Polytechnic
Institute;
Myra
Melford,
at
Berkeley;
and
Bobby
Bradford
at

Pomona.

This
shortlist
of
multigenerational
(and
mostly
U.S.
based)
musicians
is,
as
of
this

writing,
a
small
representation
of
how
music
discussed
in
this
volume
is
being
commented
on,

learned,
practiced,
transformed,
and
“gotten
ready
for.”

And
these
current
musicians
followed

in
the
footsteps
of
retired
teachers
(some
no
longer
with
us;
some
merely
no
longer
teaching

officially
but
still
actively
performing)
like
Max
Roach,
Bill
Dixon,
Archie
Shepp,
Yusef
Lateef,

Milford
Graves,
George
Russell,
Cecil
Taylor,
and
others.

These
musicians
dedicated
their
time

to
mentoring
students,
some
of
whom
have
become
professional
musicians
and
teachers
in

Passing Notes in Class
Listening to Pedagogical Improvisations in Jazz History

Adam Bush

14
their
own
right,
while
others
went
on
to
become
scholars,
educated
listeners,
fans,
and

supporters
of
the
music.”
16

By
not
specifically
including
high
school
practices
and
pedagogies
in
this
list,
the
authors

silence
the
importance
of
that
labor.

The
same
questions
they
propose
for
future
research

(How
many
students
of
each
of
these
musicians
have
gone
on
the
become
musicians?

How

many
attend,
support,
or
promote
performances?

How
do
they
talk
about
their
encounters

with
the
living
legacies
of
a
supposedly
“dead”
music?)
are
important
for
understanding
the

historical
value
of
high
school
music
practices.

Too
many
histories
of
this
music
have
positioned
improvisation
as
something
innate
to

the
musician,
the
environment,
or
the
culture
and
performance
as
isolated,
spontaneous

incidents.

The
music
programs
that
have
been
discussed
here,
in
cities
like
Los
Angeles,

Birmingham,
Chicago,
and
Oklahoma
City,
established
many
of
the
first
state
sponsored
music

classrooms
and,
in
doing
so,
lay
fertile
ground
for
the
development
of
generations
of
jazz

musicians
and
others
who
used
the
principles
of
improvisation
in
a
number
of
career
paths.

By
invoking
the
term
“improvisation”
I
mean
to
make
reference
both
to
the
actual
skill

of
playing
improvised
music;
artistic
musical
practices
that
are
“spontaneous,
personal,
local,

immediate,
expressive,
ephemeral,
and
even
accidental”
17

as
well
as
the
collective
interchange

and
“ethics
of
co-‐creation”
that
permeate
much
more
than
just
musical
culture.

While

16

Ajay
Heble,.
People
Get
Ready:
The
Future
of
Jazz
Is
Now!
(Duke
University
Press,
2013),
20.

17

Daniel
Fischlin
and
Ajay
Heble.
The
Fierce
Urgency
of
Now:
Improvisation,
Rights,
and
the

Ethics
of
Cocreation.
(University
of
California
Press,
2013).

But
I
also
think
here
of
Paul

Berliner’s
Thinking
in
Jazz
and
Ingrid
Monson’s
Saying
Something;
Jazz,
Improvisation,
and

Interaction
since
they
represent
some
of
the
most
important
research
demonstrating
that

improvisation
is
neither
natural
nor
spontaneous.
Passing Notes in Class
Listening to Pedagogical Improvisations in Jazz History

Adam Bush

15
improvisation
is
a
tenant
of
jazz
music,
the
teachers
and
music
programs
here
were
not

necessarily
members
of
jazz
studies
programs.

This
is
a
territorial
history
of
jazz
through
these
cities
and
their
sounds,
but
also
through

networks
of
community
and
apprenticeship
within
these
territories.
They
are
stories
of
how

Black
community
leaders
throughout
America
created
musical
institutions
that
managed
to

teach
what
was
and
imagine
what
might
be
new
possibilities
to
simultaneously
migrate
and

remain
at
home.
In
a
sense,
jazz
has
always
vacillated
between
claiming
(and
being
claimed
by)

its
roots
and
its
rootless-‐ness:
it
is
a
music
of
motion,
of
improvisation,
of
being
‘always

complete
and
never
finished,”
as
much
as
it
is
a
music
that
reflects
the
unique
conditions
of

urban
culture
in
which
it
was
born.

18

By
doing
this
work,
we
risk
replacing
one
narrative
of
individual
virtuosity
with
another:

a
story
of
the
great
men
and
women
who
shaped
jazz
history
by
their
own
pedagogical

virtuosity
and
the
schools
to
which
they
were
attached.

But
this
isn’t
a
story
about
individuals

nor
is
it
about
singular
sites
of
music
performance.

Building
on
Sherrie
Tucker,
Eric
Porter,
and

others
in
Jazz
Studies,
who
have
complicated
this
narrative
through
their
work,
this
project

looks
to
focus
upon
“moments,
meetings,
gatherings,
gestures,
and
scenes.
Urging
us
to
look

past
the
familiar
[and]
consider
jazz
in
conversation
with
other
genres
of
music
and
other
art

forms.”
19

The
opening
pages
of
Columbia’s
Center
for
Jazz
Studies’
2004
text,
Uptown

Conversations,
asks
of
us
to
“look
at
jazz
musicians
as
thinkers,
activists,
writers
of
prose
and

18

John
Kouwenhoven,
John.
The
Beer
Can
By
the
Highway.
(Hopkins
University
Press
Baltimore

1988),

32

19
Robert
G.
O'Meally,
Brent
Hayes
Edwards,
Farah
Jasmine
Griffin
Uptown
Conversations
The

New
Jazz
Studies.
(New
York:
Columbia
University
Press,
2004),
p.
6
Passing Notes in Class
Listening to Pedagogical Improvisations in Jazz History

Adam Bush

16
poetry,
and
visual
artists.

They
challenge
any
notion
of
a
strictly
linear
development
of
singular

jazz
styles
and
insist
that
we
look
around
or
behind
Giants
of
Jazz
to
consider
less
well-‐known

figures
as
well
as
the
communities
that
surround,
support,
and
imbibe
the
music.”

Steven
Isoardi’s
20

The
Dark
Tree
works
to
look
at
one
such
musical
community
grounded

strongly
in
a
sense
of
place
and
a
communal
process
of
music(king).

In
Los
Angeles,
Horace

Tapscott,
a
26-‐year-‐old
trombonist
with
the
Lionel
Hampton
Orchestra
said
“this
is
it
brother,

I’ve
had
it”
and
walked
off
the
tour
bus
and
home
to
his
family
in
South
Central
Los
Angeles.
21

With
this,
Tapscott
turned
away
from
commercialism
(he
didn’t
record
again
for
seven
years),

fame,
travel,
and
the
common
dream
of
relocating
to
New
York—the
epicenter
of
musical

achievement—and
chose
instead
to
embrace
a
genuine
musical
community
in
his
home

territory
of
Los
Angeles.

In
getting
off
the
bus
in
1961,
Horace
resolved
to
remain
within
Los

Angeles
to
develop
his
own
music,
to
foster
an
artists’
community
in
an
effort
to
raise
the

quality
of
life
for
his
family
and
his
neighbors,
and
to
further
the
place
of
art
into
the
public

consciousness
and
personal
relationships.

The
blues,
as
Ralph
Ellison
writes
in
his
review
of
Amiri
Baraka’s
Blues
People,
“tell
us
of

the
sociology
of
Negro
American
identity
and
attitude.”
22

By
listening
to
changes
in
the
music,

20

This
author
was
a
research
assistant
on
that
project
and
so
much
of
what’s
included

throughout
this
study
owes
a
debt
of
gratitude
to
Steve
Isoardi
who,
along
with
Jeannatte

Lindsay
and
her
documentary
on
Leimert
Park
have
created
a
living
archive
of
Tapscott,
the

World’s
Stage,
and
the
Black
Arts
community
of
Los
Angeles

21

Steven
Isoardi.
The
Dark
Tree;
Jazz
and
the
Community
Arts
in
Los
Angeles.
(University
of

California
Press,
2005),
1

22

Ralph
Ellison.
"The
Blues."
The
New
Yorker,
February
6,
1964.

In
this
review
of
Amiri
Baraka’s
Blues
People:
Negro
Music
in
White
America,
Ellison
critiques

Baraka’s
vacillating
argument
between
Marxist
and
nationalist
analysis
that
music
can
be
used

Passing Notes in Class
Listening to Pedagogical Improvisations in Jazz History

Adam Bush

17
we
as
critics
can
hear
changes
in
the
social
conditions
of
African
Americans.

The
only
thing

common
to
all
music
is
that
it
gives
structure
to
noise
23

and,
with
this,
our
musical
process
of

structuring
noise
is
also
our
political
process
for
structuring
community
where
"music
runs

parallel
to
human
society,
is
structured
like
it,
and
changes
when
it
does."
24

The
question
is

whether
jazz’s
reputed
democratic
character
is
intrinsic
to
the
music
or
is
better
understood
as

a
function
of
the
material
conditions
that
shape
performance
and
listening
situations
at

particular
moments
in
history.
25

Beyond
the
sounds
itself,
the
conditions
in
which,
and
spaces

where,
sounds
are
created,
heard,
practiced,
and
refined
are
themselves
sites
for
exploration.
If

musician’s
‘woodshedding’
is
seen
as
their
disappearance
to
practice
in
isolation,
then
it

disguises
the
practice
of
‘practice.’

But
in
spaces
such
as
the
music
classroom,
the
labor
is

clearly
visible
and
“what
one
hears
is
necessarily
the
result
of
much
effort,
time,
and
process—

as
a
gauge
to
measure
the
cultural
assimilation
of
Africans
in
North
America
from
the
early

eighteenth
century
to
the
twentieth
century.

23

Jacques
Attali,.
Noise:
The
Political
Economy
of
Music.
(Minneapolis:
University
of
Minnesota

Press,
1985)

24

ibid,
10

25
How
then
can
we
align
this
with
Clyde
Taylor’s
claim
that
“the
aesthetic
dimension
of
man
is

an
exception
to
historical
materialism…
the
work
of
art
transcends
its
time
and
place
with

meanings
that
are
universal
and
durable
beyond
their
epochs,
if
not
eternal.”
(Clyde
Taylor
The

Mask
of
Art)
If
the
aesthetic
is
an
exception
to
the
base/superstructure
model,
“is
it
possible,
in

the
case
of
art,
for
the
work
to
stand
outside
and
even
in
contradiction
to
the
level
of

development
of
its
age,
because
great
art
expresses
the
essential
nature
of
humanity.”
(ibid)

Does
any
acceptance
of
Marxist
analysis,
which
force
a
"surrender
[of]
the
cultural
survival
of

their
people,
the
emergent
revolutionary
consciousness
of
black
nationalism?"
(Cedric
J.

Robinson,
Black
Marxism
the
Making
of
the
Black
Radical
Tradition.
(Chapel
Hill,
N.C.:

University
of
North
Carolina
Press,
2000),
435.)

Passing Notes in Class
Listening to Pedagogical Improvisations in Jazz History

Adam Bush

18
in
short,
of
labor
(meant
with
all
of
this
word’s
attendant
resonances).”
26

It
was
the

development
of
local
support
networks
that
enabled
musicians
to
negotiate
their
relationship

with
urban
modernity,
to
build
community
institutions,
and
to
develop
shared
structures
of

feeling
that
mitigated
an
often
harsh
reckoning
with
capitalist
social
relations,
new

technologies,
and
ingrained
belief
systems
often
contemptuous
of
jazz.

Burton
Peretti’s
jazz

historiography
argues
against
the
conventional
view
of
the
jazz
world
as
subculture
marked
by

drug
use,
hyper-‐sexuality,
and
principled
iconoclasm.

In
his
historical
narrative,
working
class

black
musicians
follow
the
Booker
T
Washington
up
from
slavery,
picking
themselves
up
by

their
bootstraps
by
using
their
music
to
make
a
claim
on
the
American
mainstream
economic

and
symbolic
resources.

These
counter-‐narratives
help
to
redefine
understandings
of
territory,

blackness,
and
migration
and
help
to
center
jazz’s
history
into
one
on
place,
pedagogy,
and

practice.

However,
it
doesn’t,
and
can’t,
tell
us
much
about
the
worlds
of
sound
that
people

throughout
African
American
history
have
created
for
themselves,
inhabited,
and
shared

among
each
other.

These
are
not
dialect
classes
or
choirs
I
am
attempting
to
engage
in,
but

instrumental
music
classrooms
and,
thus
it
is
important
to
look
at
how
sound
signifies

differently
from
language.

For
these
students
and
administrators,
instrumental
music
was
quite

different
in
meaning
than
a
choir
program.
Instrumental
music
allowed
expression
and

improvisation
uninhibited
by
linguistic
boundaries
and
it
allowed
students
to
move
into

26

Vijay
Iyer,
2004.
“Exploding
the
Narrative
in
Jazz
Improvisation,”
Uptown
Conversations
The

New
Jazz
Studies.
Edited
by
Robert
G.
O'Meally,
Brent
Hayes
Edwards,
Farah
Jasmine
Griffin.

(New
York:
Columbia
University
Press,
2004),
393-‐404

Passing Notes in Class
Listening to Pedagogical Improvisations in Jazz History

Adam Bush

19
performances
of
popular
music.

Sound
works
on
the
body
and
works
to
connect
bodies.

It

triggers
shared
memories
and
works
upon
imaginations.

It
can
become
an
organizing
force
for

community
building,
and
it
opens
up
discussion
of
utopian
possibilities
on
lower
frequencies

away
from
detection
27

and,
as
Jacques
Attali
writes,
“popular
music
(music
not
fully
controlled

by
society)
has
been
our
one
strain
of
subversion.”
28

It
is
with
that
in
mind
that
this
dissertation
attempts
a
reframing
of
jazz
historiography

towards
an
examination
of
the
school-‐based
music
mentors
that
helped
students
negotiate
the

inclusion
of
Black
music
into
high
schools.

These
music
teachers
created
a
new
cultural
capacity

to
hear
Black
music
and
perform
instrumental
music
within
the
classroom
and,
in
doing
so

challenge
mythologies
of
where
and
how
Black
performance
and
community
practices
were

sustained.

Through
an
overarching
notion
of
“pedagogical
improvisations”
this
dissertation
is

organized
in
three
parts.

The
first
is
meant
to
introduce
the
struggles
of
both
practices
of

historiography
and
institutionalization
in
jazz
music
to
lay
the
groundwork
for
an
examination

of
how
and
why
these
teachers
were
such
important
mentors
in
their
respective
cities.

Following
a
case
study
of
a
predecessor,
Nathaniel
Clark
Smith,
a
genealogy
soon
becomes

apparent
that
follows
extraordinary
music
teachers
as
individual
actors
as
they
navigate
and

negotiate
the
founding
years
and
changing
conditions
of
music
education
throughout
the

county.

But,
of
course,
these
teachers
are
never
just
acting
alone.

They
are
connected
to
larger

27

to
borrow
from
Invisible
Man

28

Jacques
Attali.
Noise:
The
Political
Economy
of
Music.
Minneapolis:
University
of
Minnesota

Press,
1985
p.13

Passing Notes in Class
Listening to Pedagogical Improvisations in Jazz History

Adam Bush

20
webs
of
music-‐making
and
community-‐building
and,
through
music
education
within
the
high

school
classroom,
were
able
to
help
impart
these
practices
to
a
new
generation.

The
second
part
of
this
dissertation
follows
those
stories
in
focused
chapters
around

music
teachers
in
Oklahoma
City,
Los
Angeles,
Birmingham,
and
Chicago
through
themes
of

discipline,
movement,
relationship
building,
and
environment.

While
presented
as
separate

chapters,
the
stories
of
Zelia
Breaux,
Walter
Dyett,
John
Whatley,
and
Samuel
Browne
are
all

interconnected;
they
drew
upon
a
shared
genealogy
of
composed
Black
music
and
marching

band
traditions,
they
responded
to
changing
neighborhoods
in
similar
manners,
the
brought

Black
music
into
their
classrooms
to
support
and
reach
the
needs
of
their
students
body,
their

students
played
together
as
they
grew
up,
and
their
legacies
are
deeply
intertwined.

The
third
part
of
this
dissertation
examines
notions
of
these
jazz
legacies.

None
of
these

music
programs
still
stand
today
as
they
did
half
a
century
ago.

Schools
changes
drastically

under
crumbling
segregation
policies
and
with
that
the
loss
of
a
generation
of
people
bounded

together
under
that
segregation.

But
the
classroom
is
but
one
site
of
theorization
here,
and

building
on
the
genealogy
established
from
NC
Smith’s
early
music
education
at
Tuskegee,
this

study
then
looks
to
jazz
in
higher
education
and
the
legacies
of
improvisation
in
storytelling,

memory,
and
research.

The
true
pedagogical
improvisations
of
these
teachers
are
maintained

in
the
ever-‐evolving
legacies
of
their
practices
today.

Passing Notes in Class
Listening to Pedagogical Improvisations in Jazz History

Adam Bush

21

The
Struggles
of
Institutions
and
Nathaniel
Clark
Smith

DuBois
asks
in
Black
Reconstruction
in
America
“if
a
poor,
degraded,
disadvantaged

horde
achieves
sudden
freedom
and
power,
what
could
we
ask
of
them
in
ten
years?

To

develop
some,
but
surely
not
all,
necessary
social
leadership;
to
seek
the
right
sort
of
leadership

from
other
groups;
to
strive
for
increase
of
knowledge,
so
as
to
teach
themselves
wisdom
and

the
rhythm
of
united
effort.”
29

It’s
certainly
appropriate
to
point
to
the
rhythm
of
these
efforts

when
we
also
begin
to
talk
specifically
about
the
development
of
music
programs
in

institutions.

At
the
turn
of
the
century,
these
struggles
for
the
institutionalization
of
black

music
mirrored
the
broader
battles
over
the
design
of
institutions
serving
the
needs
of
an

African
American
population.

“Black
Southerners
entered
emancipation
with
an
alternative

culture,
a
history
that
they
could
draw
upon,
one
that
contained
enduring
beliefs
in
learning

and
self
improvement,”
30

but
this
placed
educators
at
odds
at
times
with
those
designing
and

funding
the
new
schools.

So,
in
1906,
after
several
failed
previous
attempts,
Booker
T
Washington
finally
hired

Nathaniel
Clark
Smith
as
commander
of
the
cadets
of
the
Tuskegee
Institute.

Born
in
Ft.

Leavenworth,
Kansas,
Smith
had
served
in
the
24
th

Infantry
Division
Band
under
Theodore

29

W.E.B.
Du
Bois,
Black
Reconstruction:
An
Essay
toward
a
History
of
the
Part
Which
Black
Folk

Played
in
the
Attempt
to
Reconstruct
Democracy
in
America,
1860-‐1880.
(New
York:
Harcourt,

Brace
and,
2001),
637.

30

James
D.
Anderson.
The
Education
of
Blacks
in
the
South,
1860-‐1935.
(Chapel
Hill:
University

of
North
Carolina
Press,
1988),
281.

Passing Notes in Class
Listening to Pedagogical Improvisations in Jazz History

Adam Bush

22
Roosevelt
and
had
become
close
with
both
Paul
Laurence
Dunbar
and
Booker
T
Washington.

After
touring
worldwide
as
a
musician
with
the
Curtis
All-‐Star
Minstrel
Show,
Smith
returned
to

the
states
and
was
instrumental
in
founding
the
first
African
American
music
publishing
house

in
the
United
States:
Smith
Jubilee
Music
Company
of
Chicago.

Joining
the
Tuskegee
Institute

allowed
Smith
to
experiment
with
voices
and
instrument
in
a
classroom
situation.

Officially,

Smith
became
a
captain
in
the
Army.

His
work
with
Army
bands
soon
led
to
an
appointment
at

Tuskegee
Institute,
“where
he
organized
bands,
ensembles,
choral
groups,
and
instrumental

ensembles,
and
toured
widely
with
the
groups.”
31

Smith
is
considered
to
be
one
of
the
first

African
Americans
to
hold
the
band
director’s
position
with
faculty
status
at
a
historically
black

school.
32

However,
within
the
first
few
years
of
Smith’s
tenure
at
Tuskegee,
his
relationship
with

Washington
began
to
sour.

Black
colleges
and
universities
in
the
South
had
been
using
sorrow

songs
to
attract
philanthropists
for
years
and,
as
Jon
Cruz
writes
of
in
Culture
on
the
Margins,

they
“engaged
wholeheartedly
in
the
intellectual
and
analytical
appropriation
of
black
music.

They
did
this
building
upon
the
already
established
practice
of
producing
transcriptions
of

31

Eileen
Southern.
The
Music
of
Black
Americans:
A
History.
2nd
ed.
(New
York:
W.W.
Norton,

1983),
301.

32

Following
Smith,
in
1918,
Captain
Frank
Drye
took
over
the
reins
at
Tuskegee.
He
was
a

veteran
of
Lieutenant
James
Reese
Europe’s
famous
“Harlem
Hellfighters”
band
during
World

War
I
and
became
the
“best
known,
black,
college-‐band
director
in
the
country
during
the
years

1918-‐30”
Captain
Drye
trained
scores
of
students
who
later
became
successful
bandmasters
at

a
variety
of
other
institutions.
Among
the
students
Captain
Drye
mentored
while
on
faculty
at

Tuskegee
was
Phillmore
Mallard
“Shorty”
Hall,
who
eventually
taught
Dizzy
Gillespie
in
North

Carolina.

Orrin
McKinley
Murray,
The
Rise
and
Fall
of
Western
University,
1960,
page
64

Passing Notes in Class
Listening to Pedagogical Improvisations in Jazz History

Adam Bush

23
spirituals
and
merging
this
enterprise
with
the
musical
pedagogy
of
black
students.”
33

As
a

public
face
(and
voice)
of
the
university,
these
schools
established
touring
student
choirs
who

specialized
in
folk
songs
and
spirituals.

The
most
well
known
of
the
student
groups,
were
the

Fisk
Jubilee
Singers
whom,
within
the
opening
decade
of
Fisk’s
founding
in
Reconstruction
era

America,
the
Jubilee
Singers
had
become
cultural
touchstones
for
black
cultural
performance

nationally
and
abroad.

Booker
T
Washington,
who
served
on
Fisk's
Board
of
Trustees,
married
a

Fisk
alumna,
and
sent
his
children
to
Fisk,
had
ensured
the
school’s
survival
by
brokering
a
Fisk-‐
relationship
with
Andrew
Carnegie.

By
1910,
Carnegie
had
funded
a
library
for
the
school
and

helped
to
establish
a
sizable
endowment.
This
fundraising
and
sustainability
model
is
intimately

tied
up
in
the
work
and
acclaim
of
the
Fisk
Jubilee
Singers
since
the
1870s;
the
evangelical

nature
of
their
repertoire
appealed
to
the
redeemer
character
of
the
white
middle
and
upper

class

For
Smith,
however,
instrumental
compositions
created
opportunities
for
both
musician

and
audience
to
interact
with
the
music
in
different
ways.

Nathaniel
Clark
Smith
began
to
tour

nationally
with
the
orchestra
much
in
the
vein
of
the
Fisk
Jubilee
Singers.

However,

Washington
saw
Smith’s
musical
selections
and
increased
national
notoriety
as
distracting
from

his
institution
as
well
as
the
image
he
had
cultivated.

Washington
sent
a
letter
to
Smith
in

1913,
while
he
was
on
tour
with
the
band,
reprimanding
him
for
departing
from
presenting
the

folk
roots
of
Black
folk
music.

33

Jon
Cruz.
Culture
on
the
Margins
the
Black
Spiritual
and
the
Rise
of
American
Cultural

Interpretation.
Princeton,
N.J.:
Princeton
University
Press,
1999.
167.

Passing Notes in Class
Listening to Pedagogical Improvisations in Jazz History

Adam Bush

24
To
N.
Clark
Smith

(Tuskegee,
Ala.)
May
26,
1913

Captain
Smith:
All
of
us
appreciated
the
great
improvement
in
the
band
from

year
to
year.

There
is
one
suggestion,
which
I
want
to
make
to
you.
In
my

opinion
you
are
losing
a
great
opportunity
by
not
making
more
of
the
plantation

melodies
in
connection
with
the
band
music.

In
every
part
of
the
country,

especially
in
New
York,
and
even
in
foreign
counties
the
plantation
songs
are

being
used
by
bands.

You
have
an
opportunity
to
set
a
pace
in
that
matter
for
all

the
other
people
in
the
country.

I
do
not
hear
very
many
of
these
melodies

played
from
time
to
time
when
you
have
your
concerts
or
when
the
band
is

playing
on
other
occasions.

It
is
always
a
safe
policy
to
do
the
thing,
which
one

can
do
better
than
anyone
else.

You
can
get
hold
of
the
plantation
songs,
set

them
to
music,
and
play
them
better
than
anybody
else
because
you
have

advantages
over
any
other
band
leaders
in
the
country.

In
this
way
you
might

make
a
distinct
and
unique
reputation
for
yourself.

On
the
other
hand,
if
you

attempt
the
high
classical
music
to
imitate
Sousa
and
other
great
bandleaders,

you
will
find
that
people
will
compare
your
music
with
theirs
to
seek

disadvantage.

The
whole
country
is
seeking
to
see
and
appreciate
the
plantation

melodies,
and
I
urge
you
to
take
hold
of
them
with
new
interest
and
zeal
and

emphasize
them
constantly
in
your
concerts
and
playing
generally.

If
you
do
try

to
play
one
of
the
difficult
pieces
played
by
famous
bands
and
familiar
to

Northern
audiences,
as
I
have
said,
people
will
compare
your
playing
with
others

to
your
disadvantage,
but
is
you
emphasize
which
other
people
know
little
or

nothing
about,
and
you
can
do
it
better
than
anybody
else,
there
will
be
no

chance
for
any
such
comparison,
and
as
I
have
said,
the
band
will
make
a
unique

and
distinct
reputation
which
will
be
of
the
greatest
advantage
for
it.

If
one
goes
to
hear
a
Mexican
band
he
expects
to
hear
music
suited
to
the

atmosphere
of
Mexico,
that
is
peculiar
to
Mexico,
and
consequently,
when
one

goes
to
hear
a
colored
band
or
a
Southern
band
he
expects
to
hear
something

different
from
a
band
in
the
North.

(Booker
T
Washington)
34

While
Washington
does
not
use
‘folk’
to
describe
what
was
missing
from
Smith’s
arrangements,

his
call
for
plantation
songs
does
much
the
same
thing.

Washington
here
calls
for
the
musical

embodiment
of
an
‘authentic’
Black
experience,
one
that
will
fit
into
the
understandings
of

Black
folk
culture
that
philanthropists
(and,
of
course,
not
just
philanthropists
but
all
whites)

34

Harlan
and
Smock,
Washington
Papers,
10:
428

Passing Notes in Class
Listening to Pedagogical Improvisations in Jazz History

Adam Bush

25
sympathize
35
.

Smith
did
not
take
lightly
to
this
reprimand
and
instead
of
quickly
returning
back

to
Alabama
with
the
band,
extended
a
sick
leave
to
remain
in
Kansas
City.

In
a
letter
he
wrote

back
to
Washington,
NC
Smith
replied,

From
N.
Clark
Smith

Clarendon,
Ark.,
June
13,
1913

My
fifteen
years
experience
in
preparing
programs
for
this
sort
of
entertainment

serves
me
as
a
stimulant,
though
I
am
discouraged
by
the
way
the
Tuskegee

authorities
write
me.
The
band
at
present
is
entertaining
the
public
with
Negro

music,
which
as
you
know
I
have
worked
on
for
so
many
years.
It
is

rather
embarrassing
to
have
authorities
dictate
to
me
about
their
own
structure,

as
to
its
merits
good
or
bad,
when
they
know
absolutely
nothing
about
it.
I

repeat:

I
hope
you
will
give
me
more
encouragement
rather
than
discouragement,
as
I
do

not
expect
it
of
you.

The
white
people
invariably
call
for
classic
selections,
which
we
give
them
to
the

best
of
our
ability…
Negro
music
as
played
by
the
Tuskegee
band
on
this
trip
is
a

revelation
to
all
the
musicians
who
attend
our
concerts,
and
it
gives
me
much

hope
and
encouragement
for
long
years
of
study
on
the
subject
and
a
final

opportunity
to
present
it
properly
to
the
public.

Hoping
that
my
strength
will
improve
from
what
it
is
at
present,

I
am
yours
very
respectfully,

N.
Clark
Smith

Bandmaster
master

While
eventually
returning
to
Tuskegee
after
an
absence,
once
Booker
T
Washington
died,

Smith
again
returned
to
Kansas
to
take
up
employment
at
Western
University
in
1914.

Western

had
already
established
a
small
music
program—with
a
music
studio
building
erected
in
1907.
It

had
five
rooms
furnished
with
pianos
on
the
main
floor
and
three
rooms
with
pianos
in
the

basement.
An
auditorium
served
for
glee
club
and
chorus
rehearsals
and
recitals.
Music

35

Terms
like
folk,
authentic,
and
traditional
are
socially
constructed
categories
that
have

everything
to
do
with
the
reproduction
of
race,
class
and
gender
hierarchies
and
the
policing
of

boundaries
of
modernism.

Folk
oftentimes
signifies
“cultural
practices
of
the
Other”
there
by

extending
the
problematizing
of
he
term
to
an
interrogation
of
racial
policies

Passing Notes in Class
Listening to Pedagogical Improvisations in Jazz History

Adam Bush

26
instruction
centered
around
choral
traditions
as
well
as
piano,
organ,
composition,
harmony,

and
music
history.

Under
Smith,
new
silver-‐plated
band
instruments
and
blue
uniforms
were

acquired,
making
Western
University's
Cadet
Corp
the
envy
of
the
Kansas
City
area.
36

With
the

arrival
of
Major
Nathaniel
Clark
Smith
(at
Western
from
1914
to
1916),
rigorous
band
and

orchestra
course
outlines
were
also
added.
Along
with
requirements
such
as
the
study
of

harmony,
arranging,
the
study
of
Lange
and
Carl
Weber,
vocal
solfeggio
and
ear
training,
one

finds
such
items
as
"the
study
of
the
origin
of
music
and
the
history
of
all
instruments
and
their

relationship
to
the
voice"
37

While
Smith
expanded
their
music
program,
Western’s
pianos
did
not
play
ragtime.

However,
after
Western's
student
orchestra
performed
some
classical
music
and
hymns
at
the

AME
General
Conference
in
St.
Louis,
Missouri,
in
1920,
university
president
Peck
urged
them

to
"give
them
a
bit
of
those
Wangs
[Wang
Wang
Blues]
and
kinda
swing
out
a
little."

"When

that
twenty
piece
orchestra
opened
up
with
those
crying
violins,
laughing
clarinets,
moaning

saxophones,
slurring
trombones,
and
the
wa-‐ing
of
the
cornets,
those
old
Prelates
began
to

snatch
off
those
black
skull
caps
they
were
wearing,
and
by
the
time
the
orchestra
had
finished

the
selection,
those
old
preachers
were
stomping
and
foot
patting
more
than
the
drummer's

pedal
foot."
38

36

While
Smith
soon
moved
again,
in
1923,
Guiou
H.
Taylor,
a
self-‐taught
genius
on
the
violin

from
Omaha,
Nebraska,
took
over
both
the
in
both
the
music
and
carpentry
departments
at

Western
for
more
than
20
years.

37

Western
University
Annual
Catalogue
1915-‐1916

38

Orrin
McKinley
Murray.
The
Rise
and
Fall
of
Western
University,
1960.
11

Passing Notes in Class
Listening to Pedagogical Improvisations in Jazz History

Adam Bush

27
The
public
face
of
music
and
the
training
ground
for
future
concert
artists
at
Western

University
was,
above
all,
the
ensemble
known
as
the
Jackson
Jubilee
Singers.
Not
surprisingly,

the
group
maintained
high
standards
and
could
be
divided
into
three
smaller
ensembles
that

traveled
throughout
the
country
during
the
summer
months.
Orrin
Murray
(1960,
5)
wrote,
"So

great
was
their
success
in
rendering
spirituals
and
the
advertising
of
the
music
department
of

Western
University,
that
all
young
people
who
had
any
type
of
musical
ambition,
decided
to
go

to
Western
University
at
Quindaro."
Students
came
from
not
only
Kansas
and
Missouri
but
also

Colorado,
Oklahoma,
and
states
across
the
country.

The
Jackson
Jubilee
Singers
were
not

under
Smith’s
direction.

But
from
his
work
in
higher
education,
Smith
was
soon
recruited
to
the
high
school

ranks
by
the
public
school
board
to
establish
the
band
at
Sumner
High
School
and,
was
soon

pulled
to
take
the
position
of
bandmaster
at
Lincoln
High
School
in
Kansas
City,
Missouri.

During
his
ten-‐year
tenure
at
Lincoln
High
School,
there
is
an
impressive
a
list
as
students
to

whom
Major
Smith
served
as
bandmaster
for—trumpeter
Lamar
Wright,
Harlan
Leonard
(later

founder
of
the
Harlan
Leonard
Rockets,
an
important
KC
territory
band),
Jap
Allen
and
Walter

Page
of
Blue
Devils,
who
were
the
precursors
to
Basie’s
Blue
Devils.

While
Bennie
Moten
was

not
formally
in
Smith’s
band,
he
was
also
a
student
at
Lincoln
during
his
tenure.

These
people

came
out
of
Smith’s
program,
but
we
may
not
be
able
to
say
that
he
taught
them
the
jazz
music

they
became
famous
for.

Smith’s
band
programs
were
made
up
of
Sousa
marches
and
Ravel

compositions.

There
were
no
swing
bands
in
high
school
when
Smith
began
teaching
at
Lincoln.

Instead,
music
instruction,
under
Major
Smith,
a
man
who
Harlan
Leonard
described
as
“a
gruff

Passing Notes in Class
Listening to Pedagogical Improvisations in Jazz History

Adam Bush

28
military
man
in
bearing,”
was
strict
and
formal
in
preparation
for
strict
formal
performances.

In

an
interview
in
1970
Leonard
remembers.

“Major
Smith
simply
ran
a
tight
ship.

He
was
the

music
tradition
at
Lincoln
High
School.

He
discouraged
dilettantes
and
time
wasters
and

encouraged
talent.”

Despite
this,
as
Thaymon
Hayes
the
trombonist
commented
in
a
Frank

Driggs
interview,
“everyone
rallied
to
that
band
wanting
to
play
with
N.
Clark
Smith…he
made

music
seem
exciting
and
important.”
39

While
Smith’s
repertoire
incorporated
different
musical

traditions,
his
exclusion
of
jazz
and
other
Black
music
echoes
many
of
the
sentiments
he

expressed
to
Booker
T.
Washington
fighting
against
the
exclusion
of
instrumental
music.

In
the

first
two
decades
of
the
twentieth
century,
students
were
beginning
to
hear
the
early
notes
of

jazz
and
ragtime,
reflecting
a
gap
in
musical
generations.

Alongside
Smith’s
teaching
career,
from
1907
to
1935,
he
was
also
a
prolific
composer

of
and
a
writer
about
music.

Smith
wrote
Frederick
Douglass’
Funeral
March,
the
Tuskegee

University
Fight
song,
and
his
premiere
orchestral
piece,
“The
Negro
Folk
Suite,”
which
he

composed
during
his
tenure
in
Chicago.

These
pieces
challenge
notions
of
what
Black
folk

music
should
be
and
where
it
should
be
housed,
much
as
Smith’s
founding
of
his
publishing

company.

In
1922
column
for
the
Kansas
City
Call,
the
daily
African
American
newspaper,
Smith

wrote
that

“The
weakness
of
most
students
is
conceptive
ability.

Many
earnest
pupils
learn
at
an

early
stage
of
their
work,
under
somewhat
careful
instruction
to
perceive
musical

relations
but
not
to
conceive
them.

That
is,
they
see
notes
and
realize
what
they
are
to

39

Thamon
Hayes.
Frank
Driggs
Collection.
Recorded
Oct.
11,
1957
in
Kansas
City,
Mo.
FD-‐REEL-‐
01
Interviews
with
jazz
personalities
conducted
by
Frank
Driggs

Passing Notes in Class
Listening to Pedagogical Improvisations in Jazz History

Adam Bush

29
strike
and
perhaps,
what
intervals
occur
on
the
page
and
the
keyboard;
but
they
have

little
conception
of
the
musical
ideas
…
music
is
a
creative
and
not
an
imitative
art.”

Smith
returned
to
Chicago
in
1922,
where
he
worked
for
the
Chicago
Board
of
Education
as

bandmaster
at
the
Wendell
Phillips
High
School
for
eight
years.
If
we
broaden
our

understanding
of
what
Smith’s
Chicago
classroom
was—then
the
reach
of
Smith’s
musical

teaching
becomes
impressive.
Several
of
his
students
from
Wendell
Phillips
later

became
professional
teachers
and
performers
from
Natalie
Matilda-‐
Richie
Woodard,

a
supervisor
of
music
for
the
Chicago
Board
of
Education
to
Milton
Hinton,
Ray
Nance,
and
Nat

Cole.
Lionel
Hampton,
though
he
did
not
attend
Wendell
Phillips,
worked
with
Smith
while

delivering
papers
for
the
Chicago
Defender’s
newsboys
band
in
1923.

In
1924,
when
Smith

founded
the
Pullman
Railroad
Company’s
Pullman
Porter’s
band
and
choir,
he
founded
over
13

bands
that
were
continually
on
the
road,
taking
Chicago
music
and
new
compositions
of
African

American
vernacular
throughout
the
country.

As
13
years
before,
“Smith's
insistence
that
the
men
learn
a
variety
of
musical
styles
and

genre
rather
than
just
jubilee
or
antebellum
slave
songs
caused
a
break
between
him
and
his

superiors,
which
resulted
in
his
attempting
to
resign
in
1926.”
40

The
Pullman
Company
refused

to
accept
Smith's
resignation,
but
instead
aided
him
with
his
proposed
plans.
In
1926,
because

of
his
success
with
the
porters
in
music,
the
Pullman
Railroad
Company
made
Smith
Supervisor

of
Music
for
the
Pullman
Porters.

While
Smith
may
not
have
taught
jazz
nor
conduct
classes
in

40

Eva
Diane
Lyle
Smith,
Nathaniel
Clark
Smith
(1877-‐1934):
African-‐American
musician,
music

educator
and
composer.
Thesis
(Ph.
D.)-‐-‐University
of
North
Texas,
1993.

Passing Notes in Class
Listening to Pedagogical Improvisations in Jazz History

Adam Bush

30
improvisation
techniques,
he
taught
discipline
and
professionalism.

And,
through
his

compositions
he
taught
respect
for
the
African
American
vernacular.

Smith
moved
between

publicly
funded
classroom
settings,
private
music
company’s,
and
higher
education
rather

fluidly
during
his
tenure
as
a
music
educator.

In
each,
he
had
a
profound
affect
on
the
jazz

history
of
the
cities
and
states
of
residence;
Alabama,
Kansas
City,
Chicago,
and
St
Louis
(where

he
retired).

The
battles
he
continued
to
have
around
the
place
of
African
American
vernacular

traditions
in
public
performance
are
echoed
throughout
this
study—both
in
the
compositions

the
students
are
allowed
to
play
and
in
the
vocations
they
are
allowed
to
pursue.
41

While
its

interesting
to
examine,
as
Samuel
Floyd’s
Power
of
Black
Music
does,
NC
Smith’s
compositions

as
ones
which
were
“reminiscent
of
the
spiritual
in
that
it
is
musically
a
kind
of
lament
and
its

text
an
appeal
to
god
for
deliverance,
suggesting
the
Old
Negro
rather
than
the
New,”
42

we
can

contextualize
that
within
a
dichotomy
and
a
movement
between
the
sides
that
Smith
seemed

to
be
toying
with
in
his
compositions
and
his
pedagogy
throughout
his
career.

Smith’s
story
stands
as
an
important
touchstone
for
this
larger
investigation
of
early

institutionalized
Black
music
education.

His
history
opens
a
genealogy
of
music
programs,

which
follow
the
threads
of
Smith’s
teaching
resume
in
Alabama,
Kansas
City,
and
Chicago.

As
a

generational
predecessor,
Smith’s
struggles
for
a
public
appreciation
of
composed
Black
music

as
well
as
the
right
of
youth
to
play
music
written
by
and
form
them,
lays
bare
the
themes

41

They
continue
in
the
present
day
as
well,
in
struggles
for
(and
through)
Jazz
@
Lincoln
Center

and
Columbia
University’s
Center
for
Jazz
Studies
and
other
venues
where
artists
and

institutions
push
against
what
belongs.

42

Samuel
Floyd,
The
Power
of
Black
Music;
Interpreting
its
History
from
Africa
to
the
United

States.
(Oxford
University
Press,
1995),
292

Passing Notes in Class
Listening to Pedagogical Improvisations in Jazz History

Adam Bush

31
Whatley,
Breaux,
Dyett,
and
Browne
will
face
in
the
years
to
come.

By
the
1920s
and
30s
when

these
teachers
worked
to
institutionalize
Black
music,
they
did
so
within
schools
which,

themselves,
are
further
institutionalized
as
well.

Some
of
Smith’s
battles
for
recognition
and

independence
become
entrenched
battle
lines,
which
called
for
subversion
by
the
teachers
and

public
calls
to
action
by
the
student
body
to
ensure
the
creation
of
music
programs
within
Black

high
schools.

Passing Notes in Class
Listening to Pedagogical Improvisations in Jazz History

Adam Bush

32

Brief
History
of
Jazz
Pedagogy
and
Mentorship
in
High
Schools

This
is
the
story
of
a
man
who
has
devoted
all
his
life
to
music
and
who

helped
to
found
one
of
the
most
important
Negro
high
Schools
in
the

world—a
school
which
has
been
responsible
for
the
formative
phase
of

hundreds
of
young
colored
musicians.

It
is
difficult
to
think
of
any
major

band
that
at
one
time
or
another
has
not
had
a
former
pupil
of
Mr.

Whatley
amongst
its
members,
so
considerable
is
the
number
he
has

taught,
but
though
‘Fess
Whatley
is
highly
respected
by
several

generations
of
musicians
for
his
teaching
abilities
the
name
of
this
great

bandleader
is
not
as
well
known
to
the
public
as
it
should
be
when
one

considers
his
indefatigable
efforts
in
the
service
of
music.

So
began
the
August
1966
edition
of
Jazz
Monthly,
which
detailed
in
its
cover
story
the

life
and
career
of
John
Tuggle
“Fess”
Whatley,
a
teacher
who
in
1917
fathered
Alabama’s
jazz

program
in
its
only
African
American
public
high
school.

For
the
students
in
community-‐
supported
schools,
like
Whatley’s,
they
were
growing
up
in,
as
Richard
Davis,
a
former
student
of

Chicago’s
DuSable
High
School
said,
“a
music
neighborhood.”
43

Davis
describes
music
woven
into

the
fabric
of
his
hometown
neighborhood
from
the
47
th

street
trolleys
running
in
front
of
his
house

to
the
back
alleys
where
the
Watermelon
Man
sold
his
wares
to
the
gangways
where
the
Coal
Man

sang
as
he
shoveled.

“It
was
everywhere…you
grow
up
being
a
part
of
the
culture
there
in
the

music.”
44

Musical
performances
appeared
as
prominently
throughout
the
community
as
well.

In
the

Bronzeville
district
of
Chicago,
“
there
was
music
happening
everywhere.
Everywhere
you
looked
the

bars
and
clubs,
even
the
Hotel
DuSable
had
a
trio
or
a
quartet
playing.

In
the
theaters,
live
shows,

43

Richard
Davis.
Interview
with
the
author,
Madison,
Wisconsin
July
21,
2004

44

ibid.

Passing Notes in Class
Listening to Pedagogical Improvisations in Jazz History

Adam Bush

33
silent
movies,
you
could
always
get
a
gig
playing
for
the
crowd.”
45

In
fact,
music’s
prominence

throughout
the
South
Side
community
even
led
to
a
commercial
shift
in
the
downtown
district
that

once
concentrated
on
35
th

street.

With
the
opening
of
the
Regal
Theater
and
the
Savoy
Ballroom
on

47
th

and
South
Park,
main
street
Bronzeville
moved
12
blocks
south
to
accommodate
the
growing

musical
scene.
46

Music
served
as
a
communal
attraction
in
the
high
school
setting,
as
well.

In
Kansas

City,
more
than
“5,000
people
crowded
the
Convention
Hall
to
witness
the
Lincoln
High
School

Orchestra”
47

and
in
Chicago,
DuSable
High
School’s
annual
“Hi-‐Jinks
musical
production
was

attended
by
over
2,200
residents
of
Chicago’s
South
Side
annually.”
48

The
community’s

embracing
of
these
efforts
emphasized
that
despite
deficient
funds
and
government
support,

the
schools
could
produce
activities
that
would
capture
the
interest
and
imagination
of
the

people
and
could
serve
as
a
source
of
local
pride
and
identity.

Addressing
this
struggle
in
the

face
of
inequality,
The
Birmingham
News
wrote
in
1903
on
the
progress
of
its
newly
founded

black
high
school
(the
first
in
Alabama).

Following
a
plea
for
“larger
quarters
and
better

equipment,”
the
paper
writes,
“it
is
easy
to
see
that
this
school
is
doing
great
work
for
the

Negro
and
for
the
community.

It
is
particularly
fortunate
in
the
character
of
its
instructors,
who

45

Charles
Walton,
Interview
with
the
author,
May
24,
2004

46

Charles
Walton,.
www.jazzinstituteofchicago.org/
journal/bronzeville/bronzchicago

47

“5000
Gather
for
Lincoln
Concert”
Kansas
City
Call,
June
3,
1922.
1

48

Freedman,
Samuel
Gary
“The
Jazz
Teacher”
The
Reader
Magazine
August
22,
1980
Vol
9,
No

47.
31

Passing Notes in Class
Listening to Pedagogical Improvisations in Jazz History

Adam Bush

34
are
intelligent,
energetic,
and
thoroughly
equipped.

They
possess
the
respect
and
confidence…

and
the
love
and
esteem
of
their
public.”
49

This
educational
philosophy,
in
the
midst
of
a
music-‐rich
cultural
scene,
influenced
many

successful
music
teachers
as
they
designed
their
educational
programs
in
the
black
community.

“The
general
aim
of
music
instruction,”
Dr
Will
Earhart
wrote
in
his
1926
examination
of
music

education,
“is
to
contribute
to
the
character
of
the
individual
and
society
an
additional
measure

of
idealism,
the
joyous
preoccupation
with
unselfish
interests,
the
elevation
and
purification
of

feeling,
and
the
psychic
health
dependent
upon
orderly
expression
of
emotion,
that
comes

from
appreciate
contact
with,
and
endeavor
to
create,
or
recreate,
the
beautiful
in
music.”
50

It

is
this
very
romanticism
of
music
that
inspired
teachers,
such
as
Captain
Dyett
in
Chicago,
Zelia

Beaux
in
Oklahoma
City,
Sam
Browne
in
Los
Angeles,
and
Fess
Whatley
in
Birmingham,
to

design
and
implement
music
education
curricula
that
became
integral
to
the
success
of
their

communities.

First,
however,
these
teachers
had
to
create
instrumental
music
education
programs
where

there
were
none
beforehand.

New
Orleans,
too,
had
a
long
storied
history
of
jazz
music
teachers

within
it
public
school
classrooms.
Clark
Kerr
Sr.,
Dr.
Bert
Braud,
and
Yvonne
Busch,
all
written

about
in
Al
Kennedy’s
“Chord
Changed
on
the
Chalkboard”
designed
programs
that
lay

foundation
for
the
eventual
founding
of
the
New
Orleans
Center
for
Creative
Arts.
Started
as
a

half-‐day
arts
center
in
partnership
with
the
public
schools,
NOCCA
has
since
evolved
into
its

49

“Excellent
Work
Which
Is
Being
Done
By
The
Birmingham
Negro
High
School”
Birmingham

News,
May
30,
1903.
2

50

Jacob
Kwalwasser
Problems
in
Public
School
Music.
(New
York,
NY
Whitmark
and
Sons
1941),

157

Passing Notes in Class
Listening to Pedagogical Improvisations in Jazz History

Adam Bush

35
own
freestanding
high
school
that
centers
musical
instruction
and
mentorship
at
the
core
of
its

curriculum.
51

1917
in
New
Orleans
marked
the
formal
opening
of
the
first
Black
public
high

school
in
the
city
following
a
1904
ban
on
Orleans
Parish
funded
instruction
after
the
8
th

grade.

And
while
New
Orleans’s
music
programs
began
shortly
after,
in
1919,
any
hint
of
jazz’s

incorporation
into
the
public
school
system
was
short
lived.
In
1922,
the
Orleans
Parish
School

Board
passed
a
motion
“forever
banishing
jazz
from
the
school…
for
the
snappy
strains
of
jazz

were
held
to
have
no
place
within
the
portals
of
Orleans
Schools.”
52

While
New
Orleans’
high

school
classrooms
had
dance
music
instruction
again
by
the
1930s,
Kennedy
adds
in
a
footnote,

“it
is
not
clear
if
the
Orleans
Parish
School
Board
ever
rescinded
its
motion
banning
jazz.”
53

In
Oklahoma
City,
there
was
no
instrumental
program
at
any
level
(grammar,
high
school,
or

university)
in
the
black
school
system,
before
Zelia
Breaux’s
arrival
in
the
developing
territory.

Zelia

came
to
Oklahoma
in
1898
with
her
father
Inman
E.
Page,
the
newly
appointed
founding
president

of
Langston
University;
the
first
black
school
of
higher
education
in
the
Southwest.

Page
had

intended
to
send
his
daughter
to
the
Boston
Conservatory
that
year,
but
noticing
the
deficiencies
of

51

NOCCA’s
growth
suggests
new
challenges
for
how
the
Orleans
Parish
School
District
intends

to
support
music
programs
in
all
of
its
schools
while
many
of
its
musicians
enroll
in
a
single

campus.

52

Orleans
School
Board
Puts
a
Ban
on
Jazz
Dancing,”
Times-‐Picayune,
25
March,
1922.
6.

According
to
the
Minutes
of
the
Regular
Meeting
of
the
Orleans
Parish
School
Board,
24,
March

1922,
“upon
motion
of
Mrs
Baumgartner,
it
was
decided
that
jazz
music
and
jazz
dancing
would

be
abolished
in
the
public
schools.”

53

New
Orleans
jazz
historiography
pre-‐Al
Kennedy,
too,
leaves
out
the
story
of
music
education

in
public
schools.

The
most
complete
record
of
NOLA
jazz
musicians
in
the
first
half-‐of
the

twentieth
century
neglects
any
mention
of
education
(Clyde
Kerr
is
mentioned,
briefly,
in
a

roster
of
clarinet
players)
and
only
claims,
“The
younger
musicians
have
not
continued
in
the

New
Orleans
tradition,
and
no
effort
has
been
made
to
discuss
the
musicians
who
have
begun

playing
in
the
years
since
World
War
II.

Many
of
them
are
superb
musicians,
but
there
is

nothing
distinctive
in
their
musical
style.”

Passing Notes in Class
Listening to Pedagogical Improvisations in Jazz History

Adam Bush

36
local
schools
(along
with
his
daughter’s
insistence
to
respond
to
that
need)
he
became
convinced

that
she
could
help
develop
Langston's
Music
Department.
54

For
twenty
years
Breaux
taught
music

at
Langston,
and
the
student
response
to
her
program
was
immediate.

After
only
four
years
of

instruction
her
band
had
grown
to
a
23-‐piece
concert
and
marching
band,
and
was
a
common

recruiting
tool
of
Dr
Page’s,
as
Langston
looked
to
expand.
55

In
1918,
when
Inman
Page
accepted

the
offer
to
become
the
next
principal
of
Douglass
High
School
in
Oklahoma
City,
Breaux
followed,

joining
as
supervisor
of
music
education
in
the
black
public
school
system
(Douglass
High
School
and

8
elementary
schools),
a
position
she
held
until
her
retirement
in
1948.

Without
delay,
Mrs.
Breaux

started
up
the
Douglass
Marching
and
Concert
Bands,
but
also
that
year,
she
founded
the
“first

Negro
orchestra
in
the
state
of
Oklahoma,”
56

in
founding
the
Douglas
High
School
Orchestra.

Her

bands
gained
notoriety
both
in
the
Oklahoma
community
and
nation
wide—performing
at
the

Chicago
Worlds
Fair
and
leading
the
parade
at
the
Texas
Centennial
celebration.

In
town,

Breaux’s
musical
groups
helped
to
unite
the
black
community;
presenting
a
public
icon
to
cheer

for
in
the
face
of
segregation.
57

In
fact,
in
citywide
parades,
all
of
Oklahoma
City,
white
and

black,
attesting
to
its
musicianship,
would
turn
out
to
watch
the
Douglass
High
School
Band.

Over
the
next
thirty
years,
until
her
retirement
in
1948,
years,
Breaux
started
and
directed
all
of
the

musical
performance
groups
of
Douglass
High
School:
choirs,
bands,
girls’
Drum
and
Bugle
Corps,

54

Henry
Hawkins
Jr.
The
History
of
Douglass
High
School.
Unpublished
Manuscript
Oklahoma

City1991

55

Eugene
Pittman,
The
Life
of
Zelia
N.
P.
Breaux
Unpublished
Article
1989

56

ibid.

57

While
not
talked
about
at
length
in
this
study,
other
high
schools
stood
as
models
for
inter-‐
racial
musical
collaborations.

In
both
Pittsburgh
and
Detroit,
Westinghouse
and
Cass
Tech
high

school
bands
have
been
acknowledged
as
the
first
interracial
jazz
bands
in
their
states.

Passing Notes in Class
Listening to Pedagogical Improvisations in Jazz History

Adam Bush

37
orchestra,
an
annual
operetta
performance,
as
well
as
teaching
a
music
appreciation
class,
which
she

required
of
all
her
students.

“This
was
quite
a
community,
a
real
music
community,”
RC
Watson,
a

former
Breaux
pupil
and
Drum
Major
said
of
his
time
at
Douglass.

“This
was
due
to
the
hard
work…

and
the
popularity
and
the
know-‐how
of
Mrs.
Zelia
N.
Breaux.”

58

As
Breaux
took
the
reins
of
high
school
music
in
Oklahoma,
John
Whatley
was
stepping
into
a

similar
situation
in
Birmingham.

There,
in
1917,
Watley
began
his
47-‐year
tenure
at
Industrial
High

School,
a
school
that
in
its
short
history
had
not
yet
formed
a
structured
music
education
program.

Whatley,
without
delay,
went
to
work
in
setting
the
foundations
for
a
music
course
that
would
help

to
name
him
around
Birmingham
and
around
the
globe
as
“The
Maker
of
Musicians”
59

and
locally
as

“Fess”
(a
title
of
honor
given
to
respected
teachers,
short
for
Professor).

He
organized
the
first
high

school
band
in
the
state
of
Alabama,
guided
that
(within
three
years
time)
into
the
“first
Negro
dance

band
of
Alabama,”
and
with
this,
helped
to
elevate
music’s
prominence
throughout
the
city
of

Birmingham.

Whatley
was
never
paid
for
his
musical
accomplishments
in
high
school
for
the
first
decade

of
his
term.

He
was
brought
into
the
school
system
officially
as
a
printing
instructor.

“Music
was

considered
nice,
but
not
serious
in
those
days,
and
little
notice
was
taken
of
his
work
as
a
music

teacher
for
the
school.”

This
re-‐enforces
Carter
Woodson’s
comments
in
The
Mis-‐Education
of
the

Negro,
critiquing
the
small
number
of
schools
that
“[undertook]
the
training
of
the
Negro
in
music

[as]
further
evidence
of
this
belief
that
the
Negro
is
all
but
perfect
in
this
field
and
should
direct
his

58

RC
Watson.
Interview
with
the
author
for,
Oklahoma
City,
Oklahoma
February
20,
2004

59

Bertrand
Demeusy,
“The
Maker
of
Musicians”
London
Jazz
Monthly,
August
1966,
6-‐9

Passing Notes in Class
Listening to Pedagogical Improvisations in Jazz History

Adam Bush

38
attention
to
the
traditional
curricula,”
60

while
serious
study
in
the
field
could
only
serve
to
promote

excellence.

Whatley
paid
no
attention
to
the
School
Board’s
reluctance
61

to
pay
him
for
these

services.

In
times
when
he
would
be
out
at
night
performing
with
his
student
and
alumni
populated

orchestra,
he
would
return
to
the
school
to
sleep
on
his
printing
press
to
be
prepared
for
printing

class
to
begin
the
following
day.

When
Captain
Walter
Henri
Dyett
arrived
at
Wendell
Phillips
(and
then
later
DuSable)
High

School
in
Chicago,
there
was
already
an
impressive,
yet
limited,
music
program
in
place.

Organized

by
Major
Nathaniel
Clark
Smith,
Phillips
had
a
30-‐piece
concert
band
and
an
imposing
ROTC

marching
band,
but
lacked
the
range
of
a
far-‐reaching
program.

Dyett
had
been
working
as
a

Captain
in
the
8
th

Infantry
Army
Band
62
,
a
violinist
in
Erskine
Tate’s
Orchestra
as
well
as
leading
his

own
band
behind
movies
for
the
Pickford
Theater.

As
silent
movies
began
to
die
out,
Dyett
found

the
need
for
permanent
work,
and
joined
Phillips
in
February
of
1931.

By
1935,
when
the
student

population
moved
to
DuSable
High
School,
the
band
had
doubled
in
size,
and
Dyett
had
dramatically

increased
the
opportunities
for
musical
participation
in
the
school
system.
63

He
taught
a
course
load

that
included
“beginners
band,
intermediate
band,
honors
band,
dance
orchestra,
and
marching

band…
played
clubs
with
his
professional
group,
the
DuSable-‐ites…
and
staged
a
yearly
variety
show,

60

Carter
WoodsonThe
Mis-‐Education
of
the
Negro.
Associated
Publishers,
Washington
1972

61

Dr.
Frank
Adams,.
Interview
with
the
author,
Birmingham,
Alabama
March
29,
2004

62

He
became
known
as
Captain
Dyett
because
of
his
service
as
Bandmaster
of
the
Eighth

Regiment
Infantry
Band
of
the
Illinois
National
Guard;
holding
this
position
from
1932
to
1940

when
he
joined
the
US
Special
Services
Unit,
which
trained
musicians
in
the
military.

63

Washington,
Sam
“Crowd
Mourns
at
S.
Side
musician’s
rites”
Chicago
Sun
Times
November

20,
1969

Passing Notes in Class
Listening to Pedagogical Improvisations in Jazz History

Adam Bush

39
the
Hi-‐Jinks.”
64

Hi-‐Jinks,
involving
much
of
the
student
body
and
featuring
the
talents
of
his
best

Booster-‐band
jazz
musicians,
began
as
Dyett’s
pet
project
when,
in
1936,
he
discovered
there
was
a

shortage
of
funds
allocated
by
the
Board
of
Education
that
was
needed
to
pay
for
the
musical

instruments
and
uniforms
his
band
required.

The
resulting
production
raised
enough
resources
for

both
the
instruments
and
the
uniforms,
with
enough
left
over
for
Dyett
to
help
to
pay
for
private

music
lessons
for
his
students
as
they
sought
to
increase
their
role
in
the
school
band.

Dyett,
a

taskmaster
known
for
his
swearing
tantrums
and
his
quickness
to
swing
fists,
“taught
by

presence…with
equal
doses
of
preacher
and
militarist.”
65

The
preacher
side
of
Dyett
emerged

through
his
weekly
creeds
he
would
write
on
the
chalkboard
for
his
students
to
memorize
such
as,

“He
Can
Who
Thinks
He
Can,”
furthering
his
emphasis
on
teaching
Positive
Mental
Attitude
to
help

create
a
culture
which
“demanded
respect,
and
he
got
respect,
from
everybody.”
66

Beyond
simply
filling
a
void,
by
creating
a
diversified
music
program
where
the
school
had

lacked
one
before,
these
teachers
responded
to
a
cultural
call
from
their
students
and
their
interest

in
jazz.

The
black
community,
as
one
Birmingham
high
school
student
described
it,
“had
jazz
all
up

and
down…
that
was
what
we
all
were
listening
to
and
dancing
with
and
what
we
wanted.”
67

Therefore,
in
order
to
maintain
awareness
and
interest
in
high
school
music,
it
became
necessary
for

teachers
to
“work
with
[their]
students
as
they
exist.

[Having]
to
descend
from
the
pedestal
and

prepare
to
meet
them
as
they
are—not
as
an
atmosphere
of
academic
clam
would
like
to
have

64

Samuel
G.
Freedman

“The
Jazz
Teacher”
The
Reader
Magazine
August
22,
1980
Vol
9,
No
47,

p
32

65

ibid.,
p
31

66

Richard
Davis.
Interview
with
the
author,
Madison,
Wisconsin
July
21,
2004

67

Dr.
Frank
Adams,
Interview
with
the
author,
Birmingham,
Alabama
March
29,
2004

Passing Notes in Class
Listening to Pedagogical Improvisations in Jazz History

Adam Bush

40
them.
68
”

However,
more
than
a
simple
“call/response”
relationship
(which
appears
almost
to
the

point
of
cliché
in
black
cultural
criticism)
between
teacher
and
student,
the
teaching
of
jazz
in
their

music
program
engaged
the
teachers
in
a
contextualization
and
critique
of
popular
music,
the
black

community,
and
the
American
society
at
large.

Before
examining
the
methods
used
to
teach
jazz
in

these
high
schools,
it
is
important
to
first
realize
that
the
mere
presence
of
jazz
in
the
academic

setting
is
a
statement
in
itself.

The
very
act
of
jazz’s
incorporation
into
the
high
school
music

curriculum
was
a
political
signification
of
jazz’s
unequal
footing
with
classical
music,
and
black

culture’s
lack
of
parity
with
white
society.

Inserting
“race
music”
into
academia
forced
recognition
of

black
culture
as
a
relevant
subject
of
public
school
education.

By
incorporating
popular
dance
band
music,
these
teachers
also
used
jazz
music
as
a
way
to

bring
their
students
into
the
classroom
setting.

Several
students
claimed
their
music
teacher
as
the

primary
reason
for
attending
high
school
at
all,
saying,
“I
came
for
Dyett,
pure
and
simple.

He’s
why
I

came
to
school
and
why
I
had
to
keep
up
grades…
to
play
drums
with
him.”
69

In
doing
this,
however,

these
teachers
were
able
to
use
jazz
as
a
tool
to
teach
appreciation
for
all
types
of
music.

In

designing
a
curriculum
that
drew
directly
from
the
surrounding
culture
of
Chicago,
Dyett
displayed

an
admiration
for
the
music
that
saturated
the
city
streets
beyond
his
South
Side
neighborhood.

Dyett
took
his
classes
on
annual
field
trips
to
hear
The
Magic
Flute
and
to
attend
classical
concerts
on

the
lakeshore.

Back
at
school,
Dyett
would
then
invite
his
students
to
present
what
they
had
heard,

68
Clarence
Byrn,
Commemorative
Newspaper
of
the
19
th

Annual
Music
Supervisors’
National

Conference
Detroit,
1926

69

Jerome
Cooper.
Interview
with
the
author,
New
York,
New
York
September
16,
2004

Passing Notes in Class
Listening to Pedagogical Improvisations in Jazz History

Adam Bush

41
vamping,
if
they
were
so
inclined,
on
top
of
the
their
memories
of
the
music.
70

In
doing
so,
Dyett

presented
both
the
classical
and
jazz
traditions
on
equal
footing.

“Its
all
the
same
notes,”
Dyett

would
comment,
“just
the
order
changes…
music
is
music.

Play
all
of
it.”
71

This
attitude,
however,

was
not
echoed
throughout
the
country.

For
Zelia
Breaux’s
bands,
Sousa
marches
and
Ravel
pieces

composed
her
strict
repertoire.

Early
in
her
tenure
at
Douglass,
if
students
were
discovered
playing

in
a
dance
band,
Breaux
would
immediately
remove
them
from
her
music
program
altogether.

This

policy
eventually
had
to
end,
as
Breaux
had
soon
removed
much
of
her
brass
section.
72

As
Buddy

“Step”
Anderson
remembers,
Mrs.
Zelia
Breaux
"was
really
something
else....
she
more
than
anyone

I
think
turned
the
whole
town
on
musically,
[while]
she…
strongly
[emphasized]
classical
music
in
the

early
years
of
her
teaching.”
73

Mrs.
Breaux
used
her
role
to
impart
to
her
students
the

importance
of
music
in
the
black
community.

She
organized
school-‐wide
May
Day
festivals

(attended
by
over
2000
Oklahoma
students)
and
developed
a
community
band,
which
she

continued
to
lead
until
her
passing.

However,
while
enforcing
an
orthodox
formal
music
education
approach,
Breaux
too

displayed
a
certain
appreciation
for,
and
influence
upon,
the
developing
jazz
scene
in
Oklahoma
City.

Soon
after
joining
the
Douglass
High
School
faculty,
Breaux
opened
the
Aldridge
Theater
in
1919,
the

first
theater
in
Oklahoma
principally
for
the
African
American
community
and
owned
by
an
African

American.

The
Aldridge
featured
live
entertainment;
bringing
in
musicians
performing
on
the
TOBA

70

Leroy
Jenkins.
Interview
with
the
author,
New
York,
New
York
October
21,
2004

71

Samuel
G.
Freedman,
“The
Jazz
Teacher”
The
Reader
Magazine
August
22,
1980
Vol
9,
No
47

pg31

72

Eugene
Jones
Jr.
Interview
with
the
author,
Oklahoma
City,
Oklahoma
February
19,
2004

73

Anita
Arnold,
Deep
Deuce.

Black
Liberated
Arts
Council,
Oklahoma
City
1996

Passing Notes in Class
Listening to Pedagogical Improvisations in Jazz History

Adam Bush

42
circuit,
such
as
Bessie
Smith,
the
Original
Blue
Devils,
and
the
Count
Basie
Orchestra
(who
brought

back
several
former
Blue
Devils).

She
continually
balanced
between
the
dichotomy
in
jazz

education
between
formal
and
folk,
explained
most
directly
by
Ralph
Ellison,

While
I
was
to
become
a
writer
instead
of
a
musician,
it
was
Mrs.
Breaux
who

introduced
me
to
the
basic
discipline
required
of
the
artist.

And
it
was
she
who

made
it
possible
for
me
to
grasp
the
basic
compatibility
of
the
mixture
of
the

classical
and
vernacular
styles,
which
were
part
of
our
musical
culture.

In
Birmingham,
Fess
Whatley
taught
classical
music
in
the
schools
as
a
precursor
to
the
dance
band

music
he
encouraged
in
his
advanced
students.

No
pupil
could
progress
to
the
saxophone
without

first
mastering
the
clarinet,
and
no
bass
player
could
begin
to
pluck
without
first
gaining
proficiency

in
bowing
techniques.

Knowing
the
dance
music
would
supply
the
necessary
motivation
for
his

pupils
to
study,
Fess
soon
had
several
dance
bands
worth
of
musicians.

Whatley
capitalized
on
this,
organizing
his
most
successful
students
into
one
of
his
many

professional
bands
that
would
perform
throughout
Birmingham,
at
one
time
playing
over
95%
of
the

social
events
of
both
races
of
the
city.
74

Whatley’s
strict
disciplinarian
nature
was
geared
toward

creating
qualified
professional
musicians.

A
night’s
pay
would
be
docked
if
a
students
shoes
were

scuffed
or
if
he
was
late
(though
late
for
Whatley
meant
15
minutes
early).
75

This
environment

proved
ripe
for
the
development
of
disciplined,
professional
jazz
musicians,
producing,
both
leaders

(Teddy
Hill
and
Herman
Blunt
(Sun
Ra))
and
sidemen
(Dud
Bascomb,
Amos
Gordon),
and
the
entire

Erskine
Hawkins
Orchestra.

74

Betrand
Demeusy,
“The
Maker
of
Musicians”
London
Jazz
Monthly,
August
1966,
pgs
6

75

Dr.
Frank
Adams,
Dr.
Interview
with
the
author,
Birmingham,
Alabama
March
29,
2004

Passing Notes in Class
Listening to Pedagogical Improvisations in Jazz History

Adam Bush

43
Adam
Bush:

You
said
that,
you
know,
Handy
[your
elementary
school
music
teacher]

taught
you
to
read
music
and
‘Fess
taught
you
the
meaning
of
Jazz.
What
did
you

mean
by
that?

Thomas
Lyle:

Jazz
is
done
in
a
certain
way
that
you
can’t
write.
It
is
analogist
to
reading

a
poem.
(pauses)
Black
is
the
night
from
pole
to
pole
I
think
whatever
God’s
may

be
from
my
conquerable
soul.
I
could
say
Black
is
the
night
from
pole
to
pole

without
feeling
a
meaning.
One
of
the
best
trumpet
players
that
I
knew
that
I
do

know
now
is
the
first
trumpet
player
with
the
Montgomery
Symphony
Orchestra.

He’s
a
white
fella
who
I
want
just
x
musician
but
he
said
he
used
to
have
to
count

the
number
of
measures
before
he
knew
that
that
was
the
end
of
a
blues
phrase.

Instead
of
feeling
that
there
wasn’t.
You
understand
cadence
ending
on
the
way

and
because
he
didn’t
feel
that.
Music
is
an
art
that
comes
with
well
there’s
a

tone
analogy
of
the
mode
life.
If
I
don’t
have
any
motion
about
the
feeling
of

being
sad
or
furlong,
I’m
going
to
have
a
hard
time
interpreting
musically
misery

or
sadness
of
blues.
We
used
to
tell
him
he
needed
to
go
to
one
of
those

Saturday
night
fish
fries.
Have
some
meat
bones
and
collar
greens
and
he’d
play

that
better
tomorrow,
you
know.
But
he
never
his
life
was
just
so
much
more

structured.

AB:
So
how
did
Whatley
get
you
to
do
that?

TL:
Verbally
he’d
say
no
boy
lean
on
that
note
now
that’s
da,
da,
dah,
da
but
it

would
read
da,
da,
da,
da,
da,
da,
da
if
I
play
it
correctly
and
he
felt
it
and

interpreted
it.
That’s
what
Jazz
musicians
do
because
the
feeling
and
the

performance
of
Jazz
came
before
the
recording
of
Jazz
of
the
notation
of
Jazz

and
you
had
to
try
to
write
with
the
guy
on
the
corner
with
the
guy
with
the

guitar
was
singing
and
playing
the
slurs
and
stuff.
It
might
have
been
difficult.

Passing Notes in Class
Listening to Pedagogical Improvisations in Jazz History

Adam Bush

44

AB:
Did
Whatley
have
any
untraditional
teaching
methods
for
trying
to
get
that

across?

TL:
No
not
that
I
know
of.
He
had
a
paddle
but.
(laughs)

AB:
I
heard
about
that.

TL:
You
heard
about
the
paddle.

AB:
Yeah.
(laughs)

TL:
But
it
was
in
his
hand
now
my
education
with
Whatley
was
not
in
the
classroom.

It
was
in
the
print
shop
and
at
rehearsal.
So,
I
didn’t
have
different
people
have

different
stories
to
tell
about
him
‘cause
they
met
him
in
different
ways.

As
Whatley
himself
commented,
“My
boys
all
was
given
a
real
foundation
in
music,
and

when
they
left
me
to
join
other
orchestras
or
bands,
they
did
not
have
to
pass
tests
or
examinations.

All
they
had
to
say:
I
am
from
Fess
Whatley…all
they
had
to
say
was
Fess
Whatley.

They
were
told

to:
pass
on”
through!”
76

For
Captain
Dyett,
much
of
the
musical
vocational
training
for
his
students
occurred
in
their

preparation
of
the
Hi-‐Jinks
performances.

Dyett’s
musicians
practiced
the
entire
school
day
for
two

weeks
prior
to
the
performance.

He
would
make
his
students
feel
and
understand
the
beat
he

needed
them
to
play
by
crawling
on
the
floor
to
the
rhythm.

In
teaching
improvisation,
Walter

Campbell
tells
of
Dyett’s
teaching
technique
to
remove
all
“but
a
snare
and
a
bass
drum
and
say,

“Okay,
swing
the
band!
77
”

This
all
came
into
practice
in
Hi-‐Jinks,
where
there
was
a
strenuous

competition
for
each
part.

Dyett
judged
each
musician’s
sight-‐reading,
improvisation,
and

76

Betrand
Demeusy,
“The
Maker
of
Musicians”
London
Jazz
Monthly,
August
1966,
p
6

77

Walter
Campbell
Jazz
Institute
of
Chicago
Oral
History
Interview
by
J.B.
Figi.
April
29,
1980,

pg.
4

Passing Notes in Class
Listening to Pedagogical Improvisations in Jazz History

Adam Bush

45
dedication
to
present
the
most
proficient
band
possible.

“Hi-‐Jinks
was
serious
business,”
Leroy

Jenkins
remembered
from
his
high
school
days.

“That
was
a
real
professional
show,
and
there
was

no
goofing
around.

We
had
to
be
professionals
or
else
Cap’
would
go
at
us.”
78

The
professionalism

and
skill
of
Dyett’s
bands
were
so
respected
that
some
musicians
were
hired
directly
off
the

bandstand.

At
one
concert,
Lionel
Hampton
was
a
guest
performer,
“and
he’s
playing
the
vibes.

And

Johnny
Griffin
jumps
up
and
plays
this
solo.

Man,
Lionel
Hampton
looks
around
and
says,
‘Good,

God’
and
snatches
him
right
up.”
79

Guests
like
Hampton
were
frequent
visitors
at
Breaux’s
music

assemblies
as
well.

“Duke
Ellington
was
a
surprise
appearance
once,
and
Louis
Armstrong
came

through…
and
we
had
another
guy,
Paul
Robeson.
80
”

This
steady
flow
of
musicians
throughout
the

city
and
into
the
classroom
served
as
an
inspiration
for
students
like
Charlie
Christian,
his
brother

Edward,
and
others
who
accompanied
them.

“Seeing
those
musicians
pass,
you
saw
what
you
could

be...
I
saw
what
I
wanted
to
be.”
81

Mirroring
how
jazz
performance
spaces
and
opportunities
influenced
the
development

of
Black
music
programs
within
schools,
school
classrooms,
too,
influenced
the
growth
of
an

entire
ecology
of
music
making
and
mentorship.

Whatley
toured
with
his
school
Booster
Band

throughout
neighboring
counties;
blurring
the
lines
between
classroom
and
stage.

Like
his

predecessor
Nathaniel
Clark
Smith,
Dyett
became
intimately
involved
in
the
politics
of
the

musicians
union,
seeing
that
work
as
a
means
to
“create
a
place
for
all
of
his
students
to
earn
a

78

Leroy
Jenkins.
Interview
with
the
author,
New
York,
New
York
October
21,
2004

79

Samuel
G
Freedman,
“The
Jazz
Teacher”
The
Reader
Magazine
August
22,
1980
Vol
9,
No
47

pg37

80

RC
Watson.
Interview
with
the
author,
Oklahoma
City,
Oklahoma
February
20,
2004

81

Leroy
Parks.
Interview
with
the
author,
Oklahoma
City,
Oklahoma,
March
1,
2004

Passing Notes in Class
Listening to Pedagogical Improvisations in Jazz History

Adam Bush

46
living.”
82

He
was
elected
to
the
board
of
directors
of
the
Black
musicians
local
AFM
208
in
1947,

and
served
on
the
board
of
directors
of
the
amalgamated
union,
American
Federation
of

Musicians
(AFM)
Local
10-‐208
before
his
death.
In
this
capacity,
Dyett
advocated
for
musicians

in
contracts
with
major
music
organizations
like
the
Lyric
Opera,
the
Chicago
Symphony

Orchestra,
and
the
Grant
Park
and
Ravinia
orchestras
and
ensured
that
his
DuSable
alumni
had

ample
opportunities
to
earn
a
living.

Sam
Browne
and
Zelia
Breaux,
too,
had
deep
ties
to

practice
and
performance
spaces
in
their
cities.

As
each
teacher
began
to
incorporate
jazz
into

their
curriculum
in
the
1930’s
and
1940’s,
they
did
so
simultaneously
with
a
web
of
community

based
resources
meant
to
ensure
their
students
were
a
part
of
the
larger
music
community.

Looking
at
these
high
schools
as
a
breeding
ground
for
developing
jazz
musicians
also

imposes
a
re-‐conception
of
the
reasons
behind
a
city’s
importance
in
jazz
history.

While
the
very

existence
of
the
public
schools
as
an
institution
helped
the
music
of
each
of
these
cities—regardless

of
what
and
how
it
was
taught—the
public
school
system
nurtured
jazz’s
evolution
in
numerous

ways.
Public
school
music
teachers
now
had
jobs,
when
otherwise
they
may
have
had
to
find
other

day-‐jobs
to
support
their
musical
habits,
they
supported
students
and
their
local
music
cultures
by

providing
access
to
instruments,
music
appreciation
courses,
and
the
dynamics
of
group

performance
and,
above
all
perhaps,
the
school
entered
into
a
causal
relation
with
the
city
in
which

it
was
a
part.

There
existed
a
reciprocal
relationship
between
musical
environment
and
music

education,
each
drawing
on
the
other
to
further
its
prominence.

The
1930s
jazz
of
Chicago

influenced
Dyett’s
music
program,
but,
in
turn,
Dyett’s
pupils
were
the
musicians
who
defined
much

82

Richard
Davis,
Jazz
Institute
of
Chicago
Interview.

Tape
3,
Side
1.

Passing Notes in Class
Listening to Pedagogical Improvisations in Jazz History

Adam Bush

47
of
Chicago’s
jazz
sound
of
the
1950s.

John
Gilmore,
Gene
Ammons,
Johnny
Griffin,
and
Von

Freeman,
proprietors
of
Chicago’s
unique
tenor
saxophone
bluesiness,
all
came
from,
and
were

prized
students
in,
Dyett’s
famed
DuSable
music
program.

This
continues
in
the
precision
and

staccato
representative
of
many
Birmingham
jazz
musicians,
as
one
can
see
Whatley’s
insistence
on

clean
and
clear
playing
carried
over
into
the
reputations
and
playing
styles
of
his
music
pupils
in
their

professional
performances.

While
the
incorporation
of
jazz
music
in
the
curriculum
certainly
served
as
appropriate

training
for
future
generations
of
jazz
musicians,
this
music
education
also
meant
a
great
deal
to
the

development
of
scores
of
pupils
who
did
not
continue
to
practice
music
after
high
school
graduation.

“Art,”
Kenneth
Burke
is
oft
quoted
as
saying,
“is
equipment
for
living,”
83

and
this,
more
than
simple

career
training,
is
what
these
dedicated
teachers
were
providing
to
the
student
population.

Many

recent
graduates
attended
college
on
scholarships
arranged
by
their
high
school
music
teacher.

The

Erskine
Hawkins
Orchestra,
for
example,
formed
while
its
members
were
attending
Alabama
State

University,
under
full
Whatley
assistance.

Zelia
Breaux
had
a
close
relationship
with
Tennessee
State

University
and
Dyett
with
Florida
State,
presenting
their
students
with
an
opportunity
afforded
to

them
through
their
high
school
music
training.

At
a
time
when
careers
in
music
outside
of
the
dance

band
realm
were
not
open
for
African
American
citizens,
many
of
these
students
were
also
funneled

into
careers
in
music
education.

For
several
years
in
Oklahoma,
every
black
music
teacher
in
the

state
was
a
graduate
of
Mrs.
Breaux’s
Douglass
High
School
program.
84

Captain
Dyett
directed

83

Kenneth
Burke,.
Perspectives
by
Incongruity.
University
of
Indiana
Press.
1964,
pg.
103

84
Reported
(though
unconfirmed
through
archival
research)
in
an
interview
with
RC
Watson.

Interview
with
the
author,
Oklahoma
City,
Oklahoma
February
20,
2004
Passing Notes in Class
Listening to Pedagogical Improvisations in Jazz History

Adam Bush

48
certain
graduates
into
the
Vandercook
School
of
Music
in
Chicago,
his
alma
mater,
and
with
others,

would
help
kick
start
a
profession
in
private
lessons,
sending
current
students
for
tutorials
and,
in

doing
so,
maintaining
a
strong
Chicago
network
of
music
teachers.

Many
of
Dyett’s
students
remained
active
in
the
Chicago
community.

The
AACM,
a
socially

and
creatively
important
music
workshop
in
Chicago
was
founded,
and
drew
much
of
its

membership
from
DuSable
alumni.

Even
Harold
Washington,
the
first
black
mayor
of
Chicago
listed

Dyett
and
his
commitment
to
the
South
Side
community
as
an
influence
in
his
political
career.
85

Leading
by
the
example,
Dyett
demonstrated
to
his
more
than
20,000
students,
the
far-‐reaching

affect
a
man
with
music
could
have
throughout
his
community.

“He
never
insisted
people
become

musicians.

That
was
incidental.

He
insisted
you
become
responsible.
86
”

Echoing
some
of
the

talented-‐tenth
ideals
he,
himself,
was
raised
on,
Dyett
wrote
a
self-‐accountability
in
the
weekly

positive
aphorisms
on
the
chalkboard
while
teaching
his
students
(as
well
as
requiring
each
pupil
to

read
and
be
tested
on
Napoleon
Hill’s
Think
and
Grow
Rich)
but
was
also
enforced
in
the
music

lessons
themselves.
Through
enforcing
discipline,
time
management,
and
proper
presentation,
these

teachers
were
imparting
lessons
that
assisted
their
students
in
any
walk
of
life.

As
one
former

Whatley
student
commented,
“Any
former
student
of
Fess
Whatley
demanded
these
things
in
this

order:
1)
outstanding
ability
to
read
the
printed
score
or
arrangement,
2)
command
of
the

instrument
(technical
facility),
3)
good
tone
quality,
4)
dedication
and
loyalty.

He
taught
us
the

meaning
of
sacrifice
and
he
set
and
example
for
us.

In
fact,
he
taught
us
a
way
of
life.

He
gave
us
a

85

Steven
Galloway.
Interview
with
the
author,
Chicago,
Illinois
June
2,
2004

86

Freedman,
Samuel
Gary
“The
Jazz
Teacher”
The
Reader
Magazine
August
22,
1980
Vol
9,
No

47,
p
33

Passing Notes in Class
Listening to Pedagogical Improvisations in Jazz History

Adam Bush

49
sense
of
respectability
and
achievement.”
87

These
teachers
not
only
helped
to
make
professional

musicians,
they
made
professional
human
beings.

“If
properly
organized,
[music]
has
social
value
of
untold
power,”
Dr.
Earheart
wrote
in
his

exploration
of
music
pedagogy.

“What
was
awakened
in
the
individual
does
not
die
when
the

vibrations
[of
the
instrument]
cease.”
88

The
social
importance
of
these
music
programs
is
an

outcome
that
can
be
neither
overlooked
nor
overstated.

The
lessons
taught
by
Breaux,
Whatley,

and
Dyett
had
a
remarkable
influence
on
the
social
development
of
America.

Just
as
these
teachers

taught
improvisation
in
a
musical
setting,
they
also
imparted
to
their
students
a
lesson
in
improvising

upon
their
social
circumstances
with
“a
dissatisfaction
with
one’s
limitations.
89
”

In
Oklahoma
City,

Eugene
Jones
Jr.,
a
former
Breaux
band
member
who
petitioned
for,
and
eventually
became
the
first

local
black
letter
carrier
for
the
Postal
Service
and,
twenty
years
later,
the
first
black
supervisor
in
a

government
position
in
Oklahoma,
always
saw
his
time
Douglass
High
School
as
an
inspiration
for

the
barriers
he
broke
later
in
life.

“For
Mrs.
Breaux,
we
had
to
be
our
best
at
everything…
we
had
to

stick
with
it…
and
that’s
what
I
kept
thinking
with
that
job.

But
man,
was
it
hell.”
90

Even
beyond
lessons
in
tenacity,
explicit
teachings
in
race
relations
emerged
in
the
music

classroom
setting.

In
enforcing
his
strict
practice
regiment,
Whatley
would
frequently
comment
to

his
students
that
they
had
to
be
“three
times
as
good
as
any
white
student
to
accomplish
anything
in

87

Betrand
Demeusy,
“The
Maker
of
Musicians”
London
Jazz
Monthly,
August
1966,
pg
8

88

Jacob
Kwalwasser,.
Problems
in
Public
School
Music.
New
York:
M.
Witmark
and
Sons,
1932.

157.

89

John
Kouwenhoven,.
The
Beer
Can
By
the
Highway.
(Hopkins
University
Press
Baltimore

1988),
32

90

Jones
Jr.,
Eugene.
Interview
with
the
author,
Oklahoma
City,
Oklahoma
February
19,
2004

Passing Notes in Class
Listening to Pedagogical Improvisations in Jazz History

Adam Bush

50
this
world.
91
”

For
musicians
like
Captain
Dyett
and
Fess
Whatley,
whose
own
opportunities
were

severely
limited
as
professional
musicians
because
of
the
racial
segregation
rampant
in
the

entertainment
business,
their
music
education
programs
sought
to
create
generations
of

extraordinary
musicians
that
would
be
able
to
compete
and
excel
on
an
equal
footing
whenever
the

floodgates
of
racial
injustice
did
open
wide.

In
the
meantime,
these
teachers
used
their
classroom
to

prepare
their
students
for
“life,
deal
with
what’s
there
and
make
it
better.

Use
music.

Don’t
use

music.

Just
use
your
mind
and
you’ll
do
fine.
92
”

It
is
this
use
of
improvisation
to
create
a
practice
of
mentorship
that
is,
at
once,
vocational,

relational,
musical,
and
personal,
that
centers
a
new
jazz
pedagogy.

“The
great
task
of
education,”

John
Kouwenhoven
wrote
in
his
collection
of
essays,
The
Beer
Can
By
the
Highway,
is
to
stimulate

“eye
and
ear…
making
[man]
acquainted
with
the
unimagined
possibilities
of
the
world.”
93

These

teachers
rose
to
that
challenge;
presenting
jazz
to
their
students
as
a
tool
fundamental
for
their

survival
and
success
in
the
life
that
awaited
them
after
graduation.

91

Dr.
Frank
Adams,
Interview
with
the
author,
Birmingham,
Alabama
March
29,
2004

92

Richard
Davis,
Interview
with
the
author,
Madison,
Wisconsin
July
21,
2004

93

John
Kouwenhoven,.The
Beer
Can
By
the
Highway.
(Hopkins
University
Press
Baltimore

1988),
65

Passing Notes in Class
Listening to Pedagogical Improvisations in Jazz History

Adam Bush

51

Defining
Pedagogical
Improvisations

Just
as
there
are
regular
courses
of
study
for
the
various
fields
of
learning,
there
are
and

have
been
for
a
long
time,
courses
in
public
school
music,
courses
that
cover
work
done
from
the

first
grade
through
sixth-‐
on
through
junior
high
school.

For
a
long
period
of
years,
this
work

has
been
carried
on
in
the
white
schools
of
the
country.

The
case
has
not
been
the
same
in

Negro
schools.

Just
in
the
last
thirty
to
thirty-‐five
years
has
music
study
been
given
in
Negro

schools.

One
reason
has
been
the
Negro
could
sing—from
the
smallest
to
the
largest,
from
the

youngest
to
the
oldest—why
bother
about
the
theoretical
side?
As
a
result,
the
negro
youth
has

just
‘sung’,
has
just
made
beautiful
harmonies
and
knew
nothing
of
what
he
was
doing
other

than
‘singing’
94

So
began
the
opening
pages
of
Zelia
Breaux’s
thesis
for
a
Masters
in
Music
at

Northwestern
University
in
1939.

Breaux,
completing
then
her
twentieth
year
as
the
supervisor

for
music
for
Black
public
schools
of
Oklahoma
City,
had
translated
her
experiences
in
music

instruction
and
program
development
into
a
thesis
entitled
“The
Development
of
Instrumental

Music
in
Negro
Secondary
Schools
and
Colleges.”

Breaux’s
writings
speak
to
a
national
transition
in
music
education
in
public
schools.

While
some
of
the
earliest
recorded
efforts
of
public
school
districts
to
offer
music
instruction

were
in
Boston
in
the
1830’s,
music’s
incorporation
into
formal
spaces
of
learning
was
seen
as

befitting
the
moral,
physical,
and
intellectual
growth
of
its
student
body;
one
that,
at
the
time,

was
predominantly
white
and
middle
class.
95

In
post-‐Reconstruction
America,
with
the
design

and
founding
of
black
public
schoolhouses
in
the
South,
music
programs
were
introduced
as

94

Zelia
Breaux.
The
Development
of
Instrumental
Music
in
Negro
Secondary
Schools
and

Colleges
Northwestern
University
Masters
Thesis
1939.
1

95

also
see
Suzanne
H.
Elliott,
The
History
of
the
Music
Program
in
the
Public
Schools
of
the

Rosedale
District
of
Kansas
City,
Kansas,
1872-‐1973,
(Kent
State
University,
1978)

Passing Notes in Class
Listening to Pedagogical Improvisations in Jazz History

Adam Bush

52
part
of
the
espirit-‐de-‐corps
of
any
school’s
early
years.

Designed
initially
as
vocal
programs,
as

Breaux
describes
above,
African
American
music
teachers
hired
to
teach
in
those
music

classrooms
brought
with
them
a
different
impetus
for
the
design
of
the
music
program;

positioning
the
music
instruction
both
as
vocational
training
and
as
an
important
symbol
for
the

role
of
the
school
in
African
American
life
of
the
city.

Breaux,
herself,
writing
here
in
1939,
was

twelve
years
into
Oklahoma
City’s
own
Douglass
High
School
Booster
Band,
which
she
directed.

So
when
she
argues
that
“it
has
been
shown
that
though
the
largest
percent
of
musical
training

in
Negro
schools
is
vocal
at
the
present
time,
the
wide
spread
interest
which
is
being

manifested
in
instrumental
music
will
soon
see
a
broader
course
of
music
introduced
in
both

Secondary
schools
and
colleges,
96
”
she
is
positioning
her
own
instrumental
music
program
into

a
larger
generational
shift
of
the
founding
of
music
programs
tied
to
instrumental
instruction.

While
these
music
programs
helped
their
schools
by
attracting
philanthropist
dollars
to

fund
their
growth,
they
also
allowed
for
growth
within
their
institutions
as
more
and
more

students
began
to
seek
them
out
as
places
of
Black
music.

Much
like
this
study
opened
by

defining
“improvisation”
as
cocreation
not
bound
by
music,
this
analysis
looks
to
define
Black

music
as
musical
expression
not
defined
by
aesthetic
terms,
but
by
its
tropes
of
call
and

response,
signifying,
and
communication
between
musicians,
audience,
and
their
collective

surroundings.

As
Samuel
Floyd
does
in
his
text
The
Power
of
Black
Music,
if
we
expand
our

inquiry
into
Breaux
and
other
teachers
beyond
the
classroom,
then
we
can
begin
to
examine

their
influence
in
Black
music
as
being
part
of
“a
perceptual
and
conceptual
shift
from
music
as

96

Zelia
N.
Breaux,
“The
Development
of
Industrial
Music
in
Negro
Secondary
Schools
and

Colleges.”

1939,
Northwestern
University.
17

Passing Notes in Class
Listening to Pedagogical Improvisations in Jazz History

Adam Bush

53
an
object
to
music
as
an
event.”
97

Black
music
is
a
music
that
gains
meaning
from
relationships

and
not
just
artifacts.

But
truly
creating
space—both
for
that
relationship
building
and
for
the
telling
of
that

history,
is
tricky.
One
way
to
see
this
“institutionalization”
of
Black
music
was
as
an
extension
of

student
demand
for
instrumental
music
instruction.

High
schools,
like
Douglass,
DuSable,

Parker,
and
Jefferson
were
embedded
within
corridors
of
nightlife
and
professional
experiences

that
were
important
parts
of
students’
shared
culture.

For
them
to
ask
their
school
to
be
in

conversation
with
those
sites
was
only
natural,
but
within
the
tension
between
the
classroom

as
the
site
of
that
exploration
and
the
space
that
enforced
separations
between
musical

stylings,
students
found
themselves
simultaneously
pulled
both
towards
and
out
of
their
music

room.

This
transition
represented
both
a
practical
and
theoretical
shift
in
the
actions
of

teachers,
school
administrators,
and
students.
Questions
of
what
kind
of
music
belonged
where

were
echoed
throughout
the
country
in
the
1930s
as
jazz’s
popularity
grew
and
school

attendance
shrank.

The
music
teachers
discussed
in
the
pages
below
took
an
active
role
in
this

questioning;
pushing
the
boundaries
of
what
was
understood
as
formalized
curriculum
and

places
of
instruction.

Teachers
from
the
school
learned
to
embrace
this
role
and,
in
doing
so,

challenged
their
schools
bring
Black
music
into
its
curricular
programming.

But
a
shift
to
Black
music
instruction
also
responded
to
a
generational
shift
about
where

employment
as
a
musician
was
available.

Teachers
like
Sam
Browne
and
Captain
Walter
Henri

97

Samuel
Floyd.
The
Power
of
Black
Music;
Interpreting
its
History
from
Africa
to
the
United

States.
(Oxford
University
Press,
1995),
232

Passing Notes in Class
Listening to Pedagogical Improvisations in Jazz History

Adam Bush

54
Dyett
became
high
school
instructors
when
they
couldn’t
make
a
living
as
classical
pianists.

Marching
band
instruction
provided
opportunities
for
their
student
body
to
receive

scholarships
to
college
programs
and,
eventually,
safe
employment
in
the
Armed
Forces.

Musical
training
in
big
band
jazz
provided
similar
vocational
opportunities
for
a
student
body.

The
vocational
training
that
jazz
gave
to
its
student
body
created
a
connection
between
the

circuit
of
traveling
musicians
and
the
school
classroom.

Music
teachers
in
these
schools
incorporated
pedagogical
practices
and
sounds
of
the

street
outside
the
schoolyard,
and
brought
them
into
the
classroom.

As
students
began
to

graduate
from
these
programs
and
into
traveling
orchestras,
schools
(instead
of
bandstands)

gained
notoriety
as
breeding
grounds
for
new
musical
talent.

Bandleaders
like
Louis

Armstrong,
Duke
Ellington,
and
Nat
‘King’
Cole
had
deep
friendships
with
these
teachers
and

would
visit
their
classrooms
(and
at
times
recruiting
students
even
before
graduation).

The

classroom
here
becomes
a
vital
part
of
the
traveling
circuit
and
a
vital
site
for
vocational

training
and,
with
that,
became
a
point
of
convergence
for
teachers
and
students
to
bring

together
musical
shifts,
professional
opportunities,
and
occasions
for
collaboration.

With
that,

jazz
pedagogy
needs
to
be
implicated
as
well;
this
is
a
new
improvisational
practice
that
is
not

just
about
listening
to
fellow
musicians,
but
an
improvisatory
practice
always
in
conversation

with
an
institutional
ethic
and
a
historiographical
tradition.

But
the
public
school
music
teachers
described
here
assumed
a
larger
role
than
one

confined
to
the
four
walls
of
the
music
classroom.

While
Zelia
Breaux
was
not
a
skilled
music

improviser,
what
is
described
in
the
pages
preceding
paints
a
picture
of
pedagogical

Passing Notes in Class
Listening to Pedagogical Improvisations in Jazz History

Adam Bush

55
improvisations,
which
Breaux
instituted
throughout
Oklahoma
City.

In
fact
one
of
the
central

questions
grappled
with
in
here
is,
“What
does
it
mean
to
teach
improvisation
as
a
music

teacher
when
you’re
not
teaching
improvised
music?”

Borrowing
still
from
Fischlin,
Heble,
and

Lipsitz,
definition
of
improvisation
as
cocreation,
the
case-‐studies
that
follow
about
Oklahoma

City,
Birmingham,
Chicago,
and
Los
Angeles
analyze
how
and
why
these
teachers
influenced
so

many
musical
improvisers
without
necessarily
teaching
the
skills
of
improvisation
in
their
music

classroom.

This
analysis
is
not
a
musical
examination
of
the
different
tenants
of
improvisation,

but
about
different
ways
these
teachers
taught
students
to
improvise
and
the
spaces
those

pedagogical
improvisations
opened
up
in
their
students’
lives.

Pedagogical
improvisations
are
not
improvised
pedagogies.

Nor
are
they
pedagogies
of

improvisation.

Instead,
the
phrase
refers
to
a
music
teacher’s
insistence
that
music
expand

beyond
the
walls
of
the
music
classroom.

Informed
by
the
musical
traditions
within
which
they

were
embracing,
these
pedagogical
practices
defined
institutionalized
Black
music
instruction

as
they
created
its
protocols
in
relationship
to
their
institutions. In
the
historical
moments

described
in
this
analysis,
music
rooms
were
just
being
developed
and
conceptualized.

Instead

of
closing
the
classroom
as
a
space
of
rote
memorization
(and
relying
on
the
school
auditorium

as
a
site
of
performance),
these
teachers
created
a
classroom
that
extended
into
the
lives
of
its

students—both
in
terms
of
generalizable
life
lessons
and
in
terms
of
sites
of
practice
and

performance.

When
first
beginning
this
research,
I
didn’t
know
how
to
theorize
the
stories
I
was

hearing.

I
knew
that
those
who
felt
indebted
to
their
high
school
music
teacher
weren’t
just

Passing Notes in Class
Listening to Pedagogical Improvisations in Jazz History

Adam Bush

56
musicians;
they
were
the
first
African
American
postman
of
Oklahoma
City,
or
one
of
the
first

African
Americans
to
serve
in
the
Marine
Corps,
or
they
were
activists
who
fought
for
Harold

Washington’s
election
as
mayor
in
Chicago,
or
any
number
of
professions
and
social
actors.

As

Fred
Hopkins
said
in
a
1985
interview
with
Ted
Panken,

And
not
to
mention
all
the
people
who
were
in
the
band
who
went
to
other
professions

in
terms
of
being
lawyers,
doctors,
bus
drivers
and
all
this.
The
thing
about
Captain

Dyett
is
that
the
information
that
he
gave
us,
you
could
apply
to
anything.
After
I
left

high
school,
several
years
later
that's
when
it
started
to
sink
in
that
this
information,

whether
I
became
a
musician
didn't
really
have
nothing
to
do
with
it.
He
was
just
a

positive
thinking
type
person,
and
those
were
the
things
that
he
put
on
us.

98

I
knew
how
to,
in
a
hokey
manner,
attribute
this
to
‘learning
how
to
improvise”
but
it
wasn’t

until
truly
listening
to
the
repeated
anecdotes
in
every
student’s
interview,
did
it
become

apparent
that
improvisation
wasn’t
a
symbol
nor
was
it
shorthand—it
was
an
active
tool
for

navigating
social
conditions,
whether
on
the
bandstand
or
otherwise.

“Improvisation,”
as
Ajay

Heble
writes,
“has
much
to
tell
us
about
the
ways
in
which
communities
based
on
such
forms

are
politically
and
materially
pertinent
to
envisioning
and
sounding
alternative
ways
of
knowing

and
being
in
the
world.
Improvisation
demands
shared
responsibility
for
participation
in

community,
an
ability
to
negotiate
differences,
and
a
willingness
to
accept
the
challenges
of
risk

and
contingency.
Furthermore,
in
an
era
when
diverse
peoples
and
communities
of
interest

struggle
to
forge
historically
new
forms
of
affiliation
across
cultural
divides,
the
participatory

98

Fred
Hopkins
&
Ted
Panken
Dec
3
1985

Passing Notes in Class
Listening to Pedagogical Improvisations in Jazz History

Adam Bush

57
and
civic
virtues
of
engagement,
dialogue,
respect,
and
community-‐building
inculcated
through

improvisatory
practices
take
on
a
particular
urgency.”
99

Taking
that
as
a
cue,
in
examining
classroom
practices,
this
study
looks
at
“pedagogical

improvisations”
as
both
based
in
music
instruction
and
in
the
social
conditions
that
fostered

that
instruction.
Each
chapter
takes
a
focus
that
drives
improvisatory
practice—Discipline,

Relationships,
Movement,
and
Environment
to
provide
entry
points
for
something
that,
as

George
Lewis
has
said
of
improvisation,
“is
everywhere
but
its
very
hard
to
see.
100
”
While
not

looking
to
exclude
any
of
those
improvisatory
measures
from
the
practice
of
any
one
the

teachers,
as
an
entry
point,
each
teacher
is
matched
with
a
single
framework.

These
four

frameworks
are
strategies
of
how
Whatley,
Dyett,
Breaux,
and
Browne
transformed
musical

instruction
into
musical
lifelong
learning
though
clearly
they
overlap
in
their
strategies.

While

John
Whatley
is
talked
of
for
his
disciplinary
nature,
so
too
was
Capt’
Dyett
known
for
swinging

the
baton
101
;
while
Dyett’s
Hi-‐Jinks
performances
are
featured,
so
too
did
Zelia
Breaux
design

an
annual
school-‐wide
performance
entitled
“Opus;”
and
while
the
surrounding
environment

around
Jefferson
High
School
is
talked
about
as
a
important
component
of
Sam
Browne’s

99

Heble,
Ajay
Improvisation,
Community,
and
Social
Practice

100

http://www.improvisedmusic.org/writings/Lewis.UCSC.keynote.v3.pdf

101

As
Leroy
Jenkins
said
of
Dyett
in
an
interview,
“If
you
knew
you
made
a
mistake
you
better

duck,
cause
here
comes
the
baton.
They’d
probably
fire
him
these
days.
Some
days
we
were
in

the
auditorium,
and
most
of
the
other
teachers
were
white.

There
were
mostly
white
and

mostly
gentile.
But
still,
they’d
never
heard
of
a
teacher
cussing
out
his
students
like
he
did.

He’d
describe
us
in
a
way,
he’d
call
you
‘nappy
head.’
It
wasn’t
mild,
but
that’s
as
much
as
he

could
say.
He
would
never
say
“shit”
just
“god
damn
son
of
a
bitch”
“get
the
goddamn
hell
out

of
here,
you
son
of
a
bitch/”
that
was
his
term,
all
in
one
word.”

Passing Notes in Class
Listening to Pedagogical Improvisations in Jazz History

Adam Bush

58
pedagogy,
so
too
did
Breaux,
Dyett,
and
Whatley
use
the
city
as
a
tool
for
engagement
in
their

music
classroom.

Environment,
Relationships,
Discipline,
and
Movement
provide
an
entry
point
to
look
at

how
these
teachers,
working
within
moments
of
institutionalization
for
both
their
schools
and

their
musical
practices,
developed,
as
Fisclin,
Heble,
and
Lipsitz
outline
in
their
coda
to
“The

Fierce
Urgency
of
Now”
exercises
of
Listening,
Trust,
Practice,
Accompaniment,
Surprise,

Responsibility,
and
Hope.
102

These
are
tenants
of
the
social
interactions
of
improvisation
that

should
emerge
within
the
stories
on
the
pages
below—both
in
how
students
relate
the
import

of
their
teachers
and
in
how
students
themselves
took
the
lessons
of
their
teachers
to
heart
in

their
own
improvisatory
practices.

These
reputations
of
these
classrooms
and
their
teachers
resonated
over
generations.

As
Leroy
Jenkins
answered
in
an
interview
with
me
when
I
asked:

Adam
Bush:
did
you
know
of
Dyett
before
you
started
at
DuSable?

Leroy
Jenkins:

oh
yeah,
yeah.
I
had
heard
about
him,
in
fact
that’s
why
I
went!
I
was

supposed
to
go
anyway.

They
had
their
own
little
fiefdom.
I
read
somewhere
that
Capp.

was
at
Phillips,
but
then
he
moved
his
operations
to
DuSable.

It
was
like
we
had
the

regal
theater
in
Chicago,
the
Apollo
in
NY,
the
Howard
theater
in
Washington
DC
,
it

seems
like
in
each
city
they
had
the
equivalent
of
a
Captain
Dyett
or
a
Whatley,
or
(Sam

Browne)
in
LA
the
one
that
taught
Mingus
and
those
guys.
It
seems
ironic,
but…
that

102

Daniel
Fischlin
and
Ajay
Heble.
The
Fierce
Urgency
of
Now:
Improvisation,
Rights,
and
the

Ethics
of
Cocreation.
(Duke
University
Press,
2013),
231-‐243.

Passing Notes in Class
Listening to Pedagogical Improvisations in Jazz History

Adam Bush

59
was
all
of
the
result
of,
I
think,
segregation.
We
found
out
about
Captain
Dyett
and

that’s
where
we
wanted
to
go.
I
was
in
the
band
from
day
one.

The
main
point
of
contention
in
this
study’s
writing
has
been
in
the
failure
for
this
text

to
truly
capture
the
specialness/intimacy
of
the
music
teacher.

As
a
guide,
I
continually

returned
to
an
exchange
between
Frank
Adams
and
Tommy
Stewart’s
exchange
in
a
2004

interview
that
explains
the
essence
of
these
teachers.

Thomas
Stewart:
Hey
Doc,
what
about
Jimmy
Carver,
didn’t
he
go
to
Parker?

Dr.
Frank
Adams:
Yeah
everyone
went
to…
well
it
was
Industrial…
everybody
had
to
go

there

TS:
I
told…
I
was
telling
him
[Adam]
that
from
about
1917
all
the
way
up
to
the
60s
any

body
who
went
to
Parker
high
school
knows-‐-‐
and
we
talking
about
a
school
that

graduated
students
in
the
neighborhood
of
about
1000
students
a
year…

FA:
That’s
right!

TS:
See
‘Fess
new
everybody…
you
didn’t
have
to
be…
even
my
Momma…
you
didn’t

have
to
be
in
music
to
know
Fess

FA:
He
asked
me
a
question
Tom
that
was
real
fascinating
to
me,
“what
was
it
about

Fess
Whatley,”
and
I
said
it
was
his
spirit

TS:
His
spirit!

FA:
His
spirit
wasn’t
just
only
in
the
band;
it
was
all
over
the
school

TS:
It
was
all
over
the
school

FA:
And
how
he
got
that
way-‐-‐
no
body
appointed
him.

He
just
did
that.

That
was
a
part

of
him.

TS:
That’s
right

FA:
See,
the
last
time
I
saw
him
he
was
out
there
with
a
stick
running
through
the
woods

coming
out
from
his
house
making
sure
the
students
got
there
[to
school]
on
time.

Running
through
the
woods,
the
trees
and
things.

Passing Notes in Class
Listening to Pedagogical Improvisations in Jazz History

Adam Bush

60

What
this
analysis
has
struggled
with
is
how
to
frame
its
investigation
beyond
simply
a
telling
of

the
formation
of
high
school
music
institutions.

By
working
within
oral
histories
and
other

primary
texts,
like
years
books,
made
by
students,
it
attempts
to
show
how
the
essence
of
what

made
these
teachers
so
important
in
the
lives
of
their
students
goes
beyond
being
there
first
to

originate
these
music
programs.

In
part,
spirit
is
consistency.

While
Nathaniel
Clark
Smith

seeded
programs,
the
teachers
described
below
taught
and
curated
their
music
programs
for
at

least
twenty
years
apiece.

While
this
study
concerns
itself
with
institutions
as
they
form,
truly
it

is
these
music
teachers
that
had
the
institutionalizing
presence.
103

When
focusing
on
the

formation
of
the
school
as
institution,
the
intimacy,
messiness,
and
‘spirit’
of
the
teacher
and

the
relationships
formed
within
those
music
classrooms
were
lost.

The
lens
of
“Pedagogical

Improvisations”
tries
to
ensure
that
doesn’t
occur.

By
looking
at
improvisation
as
‘co-‐creation,’

pedagogical
improvisations,
then,
are
the
means
that
these
teachers
used
to
ensure
music

making
was
cooperative
and
that
the
tenants
of
Black
music
were
honored
whether
jazz
was

yet
being
taught
in
those
music
rooms.

These
teachers
provide
a
possible
answer
to
George
Lewis’
question,
“What
kinds
of

new
theoretical
and
organizational
models,
as
well
as
new
practices,
can
be
developed
for
the

creation
and
nurturing
of
itinerant-‐institutional
partnerships
for
the
teaching
of
improvisation,

the
development
of
improvisation
teachers,
and
theories
of
education
that
embed

103

Interestingly,
this
too
pushes
against
a
jazz
historiography
around
motion
and
improvisation.

This
analysis
centers
on
the
necessity
improvisation
in
moments
of
stability.

Passing Notes in Class
Listening to Pedagogical Improvisations in Jazz History

Adam Bush

61
improvisation
itself
as
a
methodology?”
104

As
the
stories
below
illustrate,
music
education
in

segregated
Black
schools
in
the
1930s-‐60s
provide
a
lens
to
see
a
classroom-‐based
practice
in

constant
conversation
with
the
conditions
outside
the
classroom.

Teachers
created
new

connections
between
the
school
and
the
neighboring
community
in
order
to
best
represent
the

needs
of
their
students
and
an
emerging
music
culture.

The
relationships
these
teachers

formed
through
jazz
–
ones
based
upon
practice
and
pedagogy—
ensured
that
even
when,

years
later,
music
programs
found
themselves
defunded
and
under-‐appreciated,
there
would

be
an
everlasting
culture
of
music
education
in
their
cities.

104

George
E.
Lewis
Improvisation,
Community,
and
Social
Practice;
Improvisation
and

Pedagogy:
Background
and
Focus
of
Inquiry,
Critical
Studies
in
Improvisation
/
Études
critiques

en
improvisation,
Vol
3,
No
2
(2008)

Passing Notes in Class
Listening to Pedagogical Improvisations in Jazz History

Adam Bush

62

PART
II

TEACHERS
&
THEIR
IMPROVISATIONS

"It's
important
that
we
recognize
these
kinds
of
people,
their
work
and
their
life's
focus,
what

they
were
really
about.
They
may
not
have
gotten
all
the
cheers
and
accolades,
but
the
number

of
people
that
they
have
touched
and
have
come
under
their
influence
…
was
an
incredible

list."

-‐-‐Mwata
Bowden
105

105

Howard
Reich.
"Saluting
Capt.
Walter
Dyett,
Who
Made
Stars
at
DuSable."
The
Chicago

Tribune,
August
21,
2013.

Passing Notes in Class
Listening to Pedagogical Improvisations in Jazz History

Adam Bush

63
The
Discipline
of
Birmingham’s
John
‘Fess
Whatley

Whenever
Erskine
Hawkins
would
come
to
town
with
his
band,
Dr.
Frank
Adams

relayed,
he
always
came
to
Parker
High
School
first.

“we
couldn’t
afford
to
see
Erskine

Hawkin’s
band
when
he
came
to
town…
but
because
he’d
been
a
student
there
[at
Parker
High

School]
and
taught
by
Professor
Whatley,
Erskine
Hawkins
would
bring
his
whole
band,
in

uniform,
to
play
at
the
school
before
the
big
dance.

And
that
was
so
inspiring.

We
worshipped

those
guys,
because
they
were
so
well
dressed—very
few
of
us
had
tuxedos—and
they
had

their
hair
processed
and
all.

They
were
treated
like
gods.

When
they
played
at
Parker,
it
was

that
they
were
home.

And
when
those
big
pieces
would
come
out,
like
“Tuxedo
Junction,”

nobody
could
play
then
except
for
Fess
Whatley,
because
he
had
these
copies
from
Erskine

Hawkins.

Erskine
Hawkins
would
copy
those
pieces
by
hand,
all
those
great
pieces,
and
send

them
to
Professor
Whatley.”
106

Reading
and
transcribing
music
was
a
requirement
of
any
graduate
from
‘Fess
Whatley’s

band.

Hawkins,
who
spent
two
years
under
Whatley
at
Industrial
High
School
(and
the
previous

years
studying
with
one
of
Whatley’s
mentors,
“High-‐C”
Foster),
would
have
been
tested,
not

just
in
memorization
of
charts,
but
in
the
precision
of
his
playing
individually
and
in
ensemble.

“That’s
where
Whaley’s
forte
was:
in
teaching
reading.

Whatley
saw
all
that
coming.

After
he

got
to
the
high
school
in
the
early
twenties,
he
developed
the
reputation
that
got
across
the

country:
that
“this
man
here,
in
this
one
black
high
school,
he’s
teaching
guys
to
read.

So
check

with
Professor
Whatley.”

The
other
thing
was
the
discipline.

Those
guys
who
had
been
having

106

Dr.
Frank
Adams.
Interview
with
the
author,
Birmingham,
Alabama
March
29,
2004

Passing Notes in Class
Listening to Pedagogical Improvisations in Jazz History

Adam Bush

64
lots
of
problems
in
their
bands
with
alcoholism
and
dope,
all
kinds
of
things
like
that—they
said,

“Well,
lets
get
this
guy
from
Birmingham.”
107

At
the
height
of
the
World
War
II
big
band
era,
the
song
Tuxedo
Junction
ruled
the

charts.

It
reached
number
seven
on
a
recording
by
the
Erskine
Hawkins
Orchestra
in
1940
and,

when
sold
to
the
Glen
Miller
Orchestra
that
same
year,
climbed
to
the
number
one
recording.

The
song
tells
of
a
neighborhood
in
Ensley,
Alabama
where,
if
you’re

Feelin'
low/
Rockin'
slow/

I
want
to
go/
Right
back
where
I
belong

Way
down
South
in
Birmingham/
I
mean
south
in
Alabam'

There's
an
old
place
where
people
go/
To
dance
the
night
away

They
all
drive
or
walk
for
miles/
To
get
jive
that
southern
style

It's
an
old
jive
that
makes
you
want/
To
dance
till
break
of
day

It's
a
junction
where
the
town
folks
meet/
At
each
function
in
a
tux

they
greet
you

Come
on
down,
forget
your
care/

Come
on
down,
you'll
find
me
there

So
long
town,
I'm
heading
for/
Tuxedo
Junction
now
108

The
song
was
recorded
on
July
18,
1939,
when,
in
a
New
York
City
studio,
Erskine
Hawkins
and

his
band
found
the
urgent
need
for
a
new
track.
It
is
perhaps
ironic
that
for
a
graduate
of
‘Fess

Whatley’s,
that
the
story
of
Tuxedo
Junction’s
origins
come
out
of
an
improvised
moment,

instead
of
the
exactitude
and
preciseness
Whatley
demanded
of
his
pupils.

As
one
reporter

recounts,
“to
cut
costs
and
save
money,
he
was
trying
to
record
three
new
78s
during
one

recording
session.
Well,
he
had
five
songs—but
he
needed
six.

Then
he
was
pushing
‘Gin
Mill’

and
he
needed
a
piece
for
the
flip
side.

The
group
searched
their
file
folder
and
wracked
their

107

Dr.
Frank
Adams
and
Burgin
Mathews.
Doc
the
Story
of
a
Birmingham
Jazz
Man.
Tuscaloosa,

Ala.:
University
of
Alabama
Press,
2012.
32.

108

Erskine
Hawkins
Tuxedo
Junction
1939

Passing Notes in Class
Listening to Pedagogical Improvisations in Jazz History

Adam Bush

65
brains
but
nobody
came
up
with
anything.

So,
in
desperation,
they
decided
they
would
use
a

catchy
little
riff
that
had
no
name—the
one
they’d
play
from
memory
as
a
musical
break

between
sets.”
109

The
members
of
the
orchestra
pieced
a
song
together
within
thirty
minutes

and,
with
that,
the
orchestra’s
most
famed
recording
was
made
when
Hawkins’
valet
quickly

named
the
song
“Tuxedo
Junction.”

The
Junction
was
the
end
point
of
three
Birmingham-‐based
trolley
cars
and
sat
as
the

hub
of
nightlife
in
the
1920s
through
the
1950’s
for
several
black
Alabama
towns:
Ensley,

Fairfield,
Wylam,
Bush
Hills,
and
Pratt.

In
fact,
until
the
Carver
Theater
was
built
in
the
1935
in

downtown
Birmingham,
the
Junction
was
the
largest
collection
of
venues
for
dining,
dancing,

and
live
music
for
Birmingham's
black
population.

The
‘cares’
that
Hawkins’
sang
of
when
he

would
‘meet
you
there,”
were
the
daily
cares
of
employment—many
of
the
patrons
and

dancers
of
Tuxedo
Junction’s
Nixon
Ballroom
were
workers
at
the
steel,
iron,
and
lumber
mills

who,
after
a
change
of
clothes,
would
catch
the
trolley
to
the
end
of
the
line
to
begin
their
night

in
Ensley—but
they
were
also,
most
certainly,
cares
and
concerns
unique
to
the
Birmingham

area
black
population.

The
Junction
created,
much
like
Central
Avenue
in
Los
Angeles,
51
st

St.

in
Chicago,
or
18
th

and
Vine
in
Kansas
City,
a
black
public
space
for
cultural
creation.

As
J.L.

Lowe,
a
contemporary
of
the
Hawkins
band,
relates,
“You
need
to
know
that
Tuxedo
Junction

was
just
for
blacks…
At
that
time
there
were
a
great
number
of
places
in
the
burgeoning
city
of

greater
Birmingham
where
whites
could
listen
to
bands
and
dance,
such
as
the
Grand
Terrace

109

C.
Marzette
Bolivar,
Swing
Lowe;
A
Family’s
Dedication
to
Preserving
Music
in
the
Magic
City.

(Vantage
Press,
NYC
2001),
77

Passing Notes in Class
Listening to Pedagogical Improvisations in Jazz History

Adam Bush

66
or
the
Masonic
Temple.

Birmingham
is
where
the
major
traveling
bands
performed,
but
the

only
place
of
any
importance
for
the
black
working
man
was
Tuxedo
Junction.”
110

The
song
is
now,
perhaps,
best
known
in
popular
culture,
however,
not
as
Erskine

Hawkins’
recollections
of
this
black
cultural
space,
but
as
the
theme
song
for
the
Glenn
Miller

Orchestra—an
all
white
army
band
originally
based
in
nearby
Montgomery,
Alabama.

When

the
song
was
sold
to
Miller
in
1940,
and
received
heavy
military
play
during
his
many
trips

abroad,
its
story
shifted
from
a
description
of
a
black
transportation
and
performance
hub
to

one
of
a
universalized
American
call
for
troops
to
return
home
to
enjoy
the
good-‐American
life

alongside
Miller’s
Chattanooga
Choo
Choo
and
Pennsylvania
6-‐5000.

This
erasure
of
black
Birmingham
(even
when
the
song
itself
is
about
Birmingham)

occurs
in
popular
memory
of
the
song’s
musical
creation,
as
well.

The
contrast
between

Hawkins’
story
of
impromptu
conception
of
the
melody
and
Miller’s
successful
scoring
of
the

song
brings
attention
to
the
mythologized
innate
rhythm
and
musical
talent
within
the
black

body.

The
basis
for
the
song
was
“just
a
succession
of
notes
with
no
words—but
it
did
express

some
type
of
feeling,”
111

a
lived
experience
of
the
Junction,
which
Miller
and
his
band
could

only
emulate.

Told
repeatedly
in
newspaper
accounts
and
reports
of
the
song’s
creation,
the

origin
story
for
Tuxedo
Junction
(the
thirty
minute
creation)
while
highlighting
the

improvisatory
talent
of
the
musicians,
ignores
112

the
work
they
had
done
to
arrive
at
that
point

110

C.
Marzette
Bolivar.
Swing
Lowe;
A
Family’s
Dedication
to
Preserving
Music
in
the
Magic
City.

(Vantage
Press,
NYC
2001),
80-‐81

111

Ibid.
77

112

Writing
in
1977,
Lawrence
Levine
put
the
modern
redemptive
mission
most
succinctly,
“It
is

time
for
historians
to
expand
their
own
consciousness
by
examining
the
consciousness
of
those

Passing Notes in Class
Listening to Pedagogical Improvisations in Jazz History

Adam Bush

67
of
improvisation.

This
story
of
spontaneous
creation,
while
singing
of
the
‘feeling’
of

Birmingham,
also
erases
the
historical
significance
of
its
community
members
and
institutions.

Erskine
Hawkins
grew
up
in
a
Birmingham
music
community
that,
upon
his
birth
in
1914,

had
already
been
forming
for
the
past
forty
years
alongside
the
development
of
the
city’s

African
American
community.
As
a
railroad
hub
during
the
Civil
War,
the
Birmingham
area

attracted
miners
to
its
rich
in
coal,
red-‐rock
mountains
that,
in
turn,
helped
supply
funds
and

materials
to
confederate
soldiers
during
the
last
years
of
the
war.

Upon
incorporation
in
1871,

Birmingham’s
growth
climbed
steadily
through
the
turn
of
the
century
with
the
modernization

of
the
city’s
steel
making
and
coal
mining
facilities.

This
new
demand
for
labor
sparked
a
black

urban
migration
of
young,
black,
‘unskilled’
laborers
to
the
city
of
Birmingham
and
the

surrounding
Jefferson
Counties,
whose
black
population
shot-‐up
from
5,053
in
1880
to
56,334

in
1900.
113

With
this
sudden
growth
in
population,
new
institutions
began
to
emerge
to

provide
social,
fraternal,
and
educational
opportunities.

In
the
1870’s,
“in
the
midst
of
the

excitement
[on
incorporation],
a
firm
from
New
Orleans
opened
an
all
night
café
where
liquor

flowed
as
freely
as
any
Parisian
establishment
of
its
kind,”
114

and
soon
began
to
hire
local

musicians
to
play
the
piano
for
its
patrons.

This
nightlife
grew
in
unison
with
the
emergence
of

black
workers
collectives
such
as
the
Knights
of
Labor,
the
Knights
of
Pythias,
and
the
Odd

Fellows
Union.

In
addition
to
providing
assistance
to
families
in
need,
labor
organizations
such

they
have
hitherto
ignored
or
neglected…
the
problem
is
that
historians
tend
to
spend
too

much
time
in
the
company
of
all
the
movers
and
shakers
and
too
little
in
the
universe
of
the

mass
of
mankind.”

113

Henry
McKiven
Jr.
Iron
and
Steel;
Class,
Race,
and
Community
in
Birmingham,
Alabama,

1875-‐1920
(University
of
North
Carolina
Press
1995),
44

114

John
R
Harnady.
The
Book
of
Birmingham.
(New
York,
Stevens
Press
1921),
25

Passing Notes in Class
Listening to Pedagogical Improvisations in Jazz History

Adam Bush

68
as
these
sponsored
picnics,
balls,
parades,
and
other
entertainments
for
the
Birmingham

community
115

and,
at
the
turn
of
the
century,
union
leaders
in
Birmingham
were
able
to
obtain

funds
to
build
the
first
black
public
high
school
in
the
state,
Industrial
High
School,
that
only
two

years
later,
laid
the
groundwork
for
a
student
music
program
that
would
regularly
gather
1,500

people
for
a
performance.
116

Ivory
Williams,
and
his
successor,
John
Whatley,
are
also
often
credited
with
exposing

Erskine
Hawkins
to
the
Birmingham
jazz
scene.

As
a
teenager,
Hawkins
frequently
accompanied

Williams
to
some
of
his
jobs,
the
most
notable
of
which
were
held
in
Tuxedo
Junction
in
the

Ensley
section
of
Birmingham.

It
was
there,
Williams
theorized,
that
Hawkins’
tune
Tuxedo

Junction
was
inspired.

The
story
goes
that
Williams’
band’s
repertoire
included
several
originals

including
its
theme
song
Shorty’s
Blues.

Williams
fondly
recalled
to
Jothan
Callins,
a
present

day
Birmingham
historian
and
educator,
that
“Erskine
always
requested
[Shorty’s
Blues]

because
he
liked
it.”

In
later
years,
after
Tuxedo
Junction
was
recorded,
Williams
said,
“
when
I

first
heard
the
recording,
I
said
to
myself,
“that’s
Shorty’s
Blues.”

115

Henry
McKiven
Jr.
Iron
and
Steel;
Class,
Race,
and
Community
in
Birmingham,
Alabama,

1875-‐1920
(University
of
North
Carolina
Press
1995),
71

116

By
the
time
Hawkins
was
thirteen
and
had
found
his
taste
for
the
trumpet
(after
moving

through
drums
and
trombone),
Industrial’s
music
program
had
developed
from
a
eight
person

chorus
into
a
booster
band,
marching
band,
and
orchestra.

Though
Hawkins
would,
of
course,

come
into
contact
with
this
school
band
and
its
musicians
throughout
the
city,
he
initially

attended
classes
at
the
Tuggle
Institute,
a
boarding
school
originally
formed
to
keep
delinquent

boys
out
of
the
adult
prisons.

Its
founder,
Carrie
Tuggle,
born
a
slave
in
Alabama
in
1859,

feared
that
mixing
these
youth
and
adult
prisoner
population
(which
was
the
custom
of
the

time)
would
work
against
the
notion
of
reform.

Thus,
with
the
private
support
of
fraternal

organizations,
primarily
the
Knights
of
Pythias—the
Tuggle
Institute
was
founded
as
an

orphanage
and
school
in
1903.

Before
the
end
of
its
first
school
year,
Carrie
Tuggle
was

approached
by
a
local
musician,
Ivory
“Pops”
Williams,
with
an
idea
to
add
a
band
program
to

the
extracurricular
activities
of
the
school.

Passing Notes in Class
Listening to Pedagogical Improvisations in Jazz History

Adam Bush

69
In
the
construction
of
public
high
schools
for
African
American
youth
in
Birmingham,

these
musical
mentorships
soon
also
found
a
home
within
the
classroom.

In
1949,
LIFE

Magazine
published
a
five-‐page
story
on
Birmingham’s
only
black
public
secondary
school,

Parker
High
School
(renamed
from
Industrial
High
School
in
1939
in
honor
of
its
founding

principal
A.H.
Parker).

Proclaiming
it
the
“World’s
Biggest
Negro
High
School”
in
the
article’s

title,
LIFE
went
on
to
detail
“the
record
enrollments
at
Parker
High
[which]
spells
out
the

growing
insistence
of
Negro
parents
that
their
children
complete
a
high
school
education.

Birmingham
city
officials,
never
noted
for
their
interest
in
furthering
Negro
education,
have

taken
notice
of
this
intense
demand
for
better
schooling
and
are
making
plans
to
relieve
the

overcrowding
at
Parker
by
opening
another
four
year
high
school
at
Ullman
High,
now
a
two

year
prep
school.”
117

However,
this
‘insistence’
was
not
one
that
had
recently
materialized
in

the
hearts
of
Birmingham’s
black
parents.

Education
had
been
fought
for
in
the
South
since
the

passage
of
the
Virginia
Laws
in
1661
that
made
the
education
of
non-‐whites
illegal.

Upon
the
conclusion
of
the
Civil
War
and
the
beginnings
of
Reconstruction,
the
African

American
community
took
up
education
as
a
priority
for
institutionalizing
their
freedom.

Education,
W.E.B.
Du
Bois
wrote,
“the
guiding
of
thought
and
the
deft
coordination
of
deed
is

at
once
the
path
of
honor
and
humanity.”
118

But
this
was
a
humanity
that,
without
public

resources,
had
to
be
nurtured
from
within
the
African
American
community.

117

"The
World’s
Biggest
Negro
High
School."
LIFE
Magazine,
September
1,
1949,
15-‐20.

118

W.
E.
B.
Du
Bois,
The
Souls
of
Black
Folk
Essays
and
Sketches.
(Charlottesville,
Va.:
University

of
Virginia
Library,
1996),
123.

Passing Notes in Class
Listening to Pedagogical Improvisations in Jazz History

Adam Bush

70
In
Birmingham,
the
African
American
community
sought
to
build
schools
of
their
own

where
they
could
exercise
control
over
the
environment
and
instill
pride
and
confidence
in

students
during
their
formative
years.

In
Birmingham,
the
first
record
of
the
black
community’s

attempt
secure
a
school
was
in
1876,
three
years
after
the
establishment
of
a
free
white
school.

In
that
year,
Alfred
Jackson
and
other
African
Americans
not
only
petitioned
“for
the

establishment
of
a
Free
Colored
School
for
colored
people
in
this
city,”
but
they
also
sought
for

the
fair
distribution
of
school
funds
“as
prescribed
by
law.”
119

The
efforts
of
blacks
to
create
a

satisfactory
education
for
their
children
did
not
stop
there.
Whenever
public
aid
was
not

forthcoming,
they
turned
inward
and
appealed
to
members
of
the
community
to
volunteer

their
services
and
raise
money
to
operate
their
own
schools.

African
Americans
initiated
their

own
schools
beyond
public
scrutiny
and
without
public
funds
when
they
established
grade

schools
and
Kindergartens
in
some
of
their
churches.

Fraternal
organizations
also
provided

financial
means
for
schooling.

The
Tuggle
Institute,
which
first
began
as
an
alternative
to

juvenile
detention,
grew
into
a
K-‐8
boarding
school
in
Birmingham
funded
primarily
through
the

Knights
of
Pythias.
120

In
1883,
Birmingham’s
first
high
school
opened
its
doors
to
white
students,
marking
the

arrival
of
the
city’s
new
superintendent
John
Herbert
Phillips.

“Whatever
anthropologists
may

report,
the
black
race
is
to
all
intents
and
purposes
a
young
race;
therefore
it
is
imitative…
in

119

Lynn
Feldman
A
Sense
of
Place:
Birmingham’s
Black
Middle
Class
Community;
1890-‐1930.

(University
of
Alabama
Press,
1999)

120

Carrie
Tuggle
and
the
Tuggle
Institute’s
music
program
trained
John
Whatley
as
a
young

student,
provided
him
with
his
first
teaching
job,
and
fought
for
his
hiring
at
Industrial
(now

Parker)
High
School

Passing Notes in Class
Listening to Pedagogical Improvisations in Jazz History

Adam Bush

71
anything
that
requires
reasoning—in
mathematics
for
instance—the
Negro
soon
falls

behind.”
121

Schooling
in
Birmingham
had
developed
under
the
encouragement
of
the
TCI
and

ACIPCO
Coal
Companies,
who
had
been
financing
schools
(though
only
up
to
the
eighth
grade)

for
their
employers’
children
for
several
years
by
the
time
Phillips
took
over
in
1883.

Any

attempt
at
education
reform,
would
have
to
be
in
helping
to
create
a
more
profitable

workforce
for
the
city
and,
with
this,
would
have
to
present
a
curriculum
of
Industrial

Education.

This
viewpoint
was
argued
by
many
leaders
of
the
industrial
trades
who
saw
that

education
in
the
trades
could
be
a
useful
program
to
create
better
low-‐wage,
though
skilled,

laborers.
While
some
argued
that
Negro
education
would
simply
“sharpen
the
conflict
between

the
races”
by
complicating
“that
relation
between
the
races
which
is
now
the
strongest
bond
of

amity—the
relation
of
employer
and
employed,”
122

education
advocates
found
rationalization

in
a
developing
labor
pyramid
where
white
skilled
laborers
would
rise
above
the
black
working

class.

It
was
through
this
educational
philosophy
that
a
music
program
would
struggle
to

develop.

As
one
early
proponent
for
education
reform
wrote,
“the
varied
mechanisms
entering

our
trades
and
industries
are
too
powerful
and
intricate
to
be
manipulated
by
the
unskilled
and

illiterate
masses.

There
considerations
alone,
to
say
nothing
of
the
duties
of
intelligent

citizenship,
amply
justify
the
maintenance
of
a
system
of
public
education
in
an
industrial

121

Horace
Mann
Bond.
Negro
Education
in
Alabama;
a
Study
in
Cotton
and
Steel.
(New
York:

Octagon
Books,
1969)
147.

quoting
Archer,
William.
Through
Afro-‐America
an
English
Reading

of
the
Race
Problem.
(London:
Chapman
&
Hall,
1910),
128-‐129.

122

Birmingham
Age
Herald
March
31,
1890

Passing Notes in Class
Listening to Pedagogical Improvisations in Jazz History

Adam Bush

72
center
like
Birmingham,
and
the
flourishing
condition
of
her
public
schools
furnishes
the
most

convincing
evidence
of
the
fact
that…
she
has
not
been
mindful
of
her
duty.”
123

It
was
on
this

platform
of
industrial
education
that
leaders
in
the
African
American
community
were
able
to

appeal
to
Phillips,
as
well
as
Samuel
Ullman,
chairman
of
the
Board
of
Aldermen
in
Birmingham,

that
a
secondary
school
was
a
strategic
program
for
the
city
to
undertake.

However,
at
its
core,
this
secondary
education
had
to
be
industrial
in
its
focus.

From
the

outset,
all
students
either
took
sewing
or
carpentry.

Much
as
how
Tuskegee
Institute
students

learned
"to
do
a
common
thing
in
an
uncommon
manner,"
Industrial
High
School
taught

carpentry,
brick
making
and
bricklaying,
print
shop,
home
economics,
and
other
practical

subjects,
as
well
as
basic
secondary
school
courses.

Because
of
its
use
for
the
‘greater
good,’

industrial
education
also
went
far
in
attracting
Birmingham’s
white,
Progressive,
leaders,
like

John
Herbert
Phillips,
who
became
a
key
player
in
the
creation
of
Industrial
High
School
and

argued
that
an
educated
black
population
was
necessary
for
social
stability
and
economic

growth.

This
was
Booker
T.
Washington’s
intervention
in
the
Birmingham
landscape;
a
public

trade
school
for
a
Black
youth
population
built
around
workforce
development.

In
1900
the
Birmingham
school
board
agreed
to
create
a
public
high
school
for
blacks,

and
superintendent
J.H.
Phillips
appointed
A.H.
Parker
to
head
it.

“To
this
day
I
do
not
know

why
he
selected
me,”
Parker
wrote
thirty
years
later
in
his
autobiography
“A
Dream
that
Came

123

Horace
Mann
Bond.
Negro
Education
in
Alabama;
a
Study
in
Cotton
and
Steel.
(New
York:

Octagon
Books,
1969),
147.

quoting
William
Archer.
Through
Afro-‐America
an
English
Reading

of
the
Race
Problem.
(London:
Chapman
&
Hall,
1910),
128-‐129.

Passing Notes in Class
Listening to Pedagogical Improvisations in Jazz History

Adam Bush

73
True.
124
”

Parker
promised
Phillips
that
the
enrollment
would
be
sufficiently
high
to
cover
the

school’s
cost’s,
each
pupil
paying
$1.50
a
month
in
tuition
fees
(while
tuition
for
white
public

education
remained
free).

The
first
class
recruited
eighteen
pupils
though
within
ten
years
the

demand
for
public
education
put
such
strains
on
the
school
that
there
were
classes
as
large
as

75
students
per
teacher.

Parker’s
school
took
industrial
education
extremely
seriously—pupils
devoted
fully
a

third
of
their
time
to
it.

However,
the
skills
children
learned,
while
useful,
were
less
relevant
to

earning
a
living,
for
the
demand
for
carpenters,
bricklayers,
and
tailors
was
declining.

Moreover,
Parker’s
efforts
to
update
industrial
education
by
offering
vocational
skills
adapted

to
the
modern
labor
market
ran
into
stiff
opposition
from
white
workers.

The
school
board

dropped
plans
to
introduce
plumbing,
steam
fitting,
and
electrical
engineering.

The
depth
of

white
hostility
to
black
education—mainly
from
elements
of
the
white
working
class,
meant

that
every
improvement
to
black
schools
ran
a
gauntlet
of
political
opposition
from
white
labor

leaders.

Through
its
concerts,
clubs,
and
other
extracurricular
activities,
the
school
became
a

cultural
anchor
of
Birmingham’s
black
community.
With
this
assertion
of
ownership,
African

Americans
demanded
these
high
schools
play
a
prominent
role
as
centers
of
communal
life.

In

rural
Alabama,
for
example,
one
advertisement
for
property
near
the
newly
constructed

Tuscumbia
high
school
asked
its
citizens
to
“cluster
your
homes
around
your
church,
your

school,
your
hall
of
fellowship,
and
especially
near
the
home
of
your
devoted
and
earnest

124

Arthur
Harold
Parker.
A
Dream
That
Came
True;
Autobiography
of
Arthur
Harold
Parker.

Birmingham,
Ala.:
[Industrial
High
School],
1932.

Passing Notes in Class
Listening to Pedagogical Improvisations in Jazz History

Adam Bush

74
principal
and
teacher.”
125

As
one
Tuscumbia
citizen
noted,
“there
was
a
real
sense
of

community.

I
mean
the
school
being
the
centerpiece
of
the
small
community,
the
small
black

community…
So,
everything
kind
of
focused
and
circulated
around
that
little
area
where
we

lived.”
126

If
it
accommodated
racial
segregation,
the
high
school
also
tried
to
instill
racial
pride.

The
community’s
embracing
of
these
efforts
emphasized
that
despite
deficient
funds
and

government
support,
the
schools
could
produce
activities
that
would
capture
the
interest
and

imagination
of
the
people
and
could
serve
as
a
source
of
local
pride
and
identity.

Addressing

this
struggle
in
the
face
of
inequality,
The
Birmingham
News
wrote
in
1903
on
the
progress
of

its
newly
founded
black
high
school
(the
first
in
Alabama).

Following
a
plea
for
“larger
quarters

and
better
equipment,”
the
paper
writes,
“it
is
easy
to
see
that
this
school
is
doing
great
work

for
the
Negro
and
for
the
community.

It
is
particularly
fortunate
in
the
character
of
its

instructors,
who
are
intelligent,
energetic,
and
thoroughly
equipped.

They
possess
the
respect

and
confidence…
and
the
love
and
esteem
of
their
public.”
127

But
that
character
was
maintained
through
a
disciplinarian’s
rhythm.

Whatley
would

begin
each
concert
throughout
his
years
as
bandmaster
with
a
quick
percussive
twitter
of
his

peck-‐horn—as
if
sounding
his
troops
for
battle.

He
was
a
disciplinarian
with
the
baton,

alternately
beating
a
meter
or
his
students’
knuckles
to
keep
pace.

And
he
ran
the
Industrial

School
print
shop,
whose
machine
rhythms
he
would
use
to
keep
time
as
the
band
practiced
in

the
room
above.

125

Vivian
Gunn
Morris.
The
Price
They
Paid,
(New
York,
NY
Teacher
College
Press
2002),
7

126

ibid

127

"Excellent
Work
Which
Is
Being
Done
By
The
Birmingham
Negro
High
School."
Birmingham

News,
May
30,
1903.

Passing Notes in Class
Listening to Pedagogical Improvisations in Jazz History

Adam Bush

75
I
didn’t
like
to
be
in
a
situation
that
was
so
autocratic.

I
couldn’t
understand
why
he
was

so
demanding,
but
I
found
out
that
that
was
the
way
he
had
to
be,
to
discipline
all
those

students
who
went
on
to
greatness:
because
he
insisted
on
certain
things
like

punctuality
and
neatness.

He
insisted
on
perfection.

The
way
you
dressed
had
to
be

just
right;
the
time
you
got
a
job
had
to
be
precisely
right;
the
time
you
finished
had
to

be
precisely
right.

He
was
just
like
a
clock.

And
we
had
to
practice
and
practice.

Professor
Whatley’s
discipline—so
far
as
the
reading
of
music,
and
the
exactness
of
it—
was
what
appealed
to
Benny
Goodman
and
Cab
Calloway,
and
Duke
Ellington
and
all

those
people;
because
they
knew
that
is
you
had
been
trained
by
Whatley,
you
would

be
well
disciplined.

You
wouldn’t
cut
up
crazy,
you
would
be
on
time—because
you

would
think
about
Fess
Whatley.
128

In
fact,
John
Whatley
arrived
at
Industrial
High
School
officially,
as
the
print
shop

instructor.

While
his
printing
skills
were,
initially,
minimal,
his
hiring
had
much
more
to
do
with

his
musical
skills.

While
paid
and
expected
to
teach
printing,
Whatley
was
also
expected
to

design,
lead,
and
instruct
a
school
orchestra—a
duty
made
clear
to
him
by
his
mentor
Ivory

Williams
who
recommended
him
for
the
position.

Whatey’s
hiring,
however,
was
no
simple
matter.

During
Industrial’s
first
years
in

existence,
A.H.
Parker,
the
school’s
principal,
a
choirmaster
himself,
ran
the
school
music

program.

A
teacher
was
quickly
hired
to
meet
the
demand
of
student
singers
and
weekly

assemblies
began
at
the
school
in
1908
for
the
choir
to
perform.

However,
Industrial
High

School’s
choral
program,
while
attracting
praise
from
the
school
board,
also
attracted
criticism

from
the
student
body.

The
principal
recalled
in
his
autobiography
“his
constant
recourse
to

plantation
songs
evoked
“some
unfavorable
comment
129
”
among
his
students.
Much
like

Nathanial
Clark
Smith’s
challenge
to
Booker
T.
Washington
that
choral,
evangelical
songs
not
be

128

Dr.
Frank
Adams.
Interview
with
the
author,
Birmingham,
Alabama
March
29,
2004

129

Arthur
Harold
Parker.
A
Dream
That
Came
True;
Autobiography
of
Arthur
Harold
Parker.

Birmingham,
Ala.:
[Industrial
High
School],
1932.

Passing Notes in Class
Listening to Pedagogical Improvisations in Jazz History

Adam Bush

76
the
only
representations
of
Black
music
through
the
school,
students
in
Birmingham
fought

here
for
the
freedom
of
interpretation
that
came
with
instrumental
music.

In
Booker
T

Washington’s
Up
From
Slavery,
Washington
recalls
upon
visiting
rural
black
families
in
Alabama:

“On
one
occasion
when
I
went
into
one
of
these
cabins
[in
the
plantation
districts
of
Alabama]

for
dinner,
when
I
sat
down
to
the
table
for
a
meal
with
the
four
members
of
the
family,
I

noticed
that,
while
there
were
five
of
us
at
the
table,
there
was
but
one
fork
for
the
five
of
us
to

use.

Naturally,
there
was
an
awkward
pause
on
my
part.

In
the
opposite
corner
of
that
same

cabin,
was
an
organ
for
which
the
people
told
me
they
were
paying
sixty
dollars
in
monthly

installments.
One
fork,
and
a
sixty-‐dollar
organ!
130
”

Washington’s
concern
at
the
cost
of
music,

when
traditional
requirements
of
citizenship
and
productivity
were
overlooked
is
valid
one,
but,

in
this,
Washington,
overlooks
the
notion
that
music,
much
like
education,
could
be,
and
was,
a

necessity
for
this
newly
freed
population.

In
all
of
the
playbills
from
Industrial
High
School’s
music
programs
from
the
first
fifteen

years
of
the
twentieth
century,
the
choral
program’s
most
popular
songs
were
“Run
to
Jesus,”

“Old
Folks
at
Home”
(Swanee
River),
and
“Roll
the
Old
Chariot
Along,”
all
three
songs
about

leaving
home.

But,
in
between
the
end
of
Reconstruction
and
the
first
Great
Migration,
there

was
no
mass
exodus
away
from
Birmingham
as
the
songs
elucidated.

In
fact,
Birmingham’s

population
grew
ten-‐fold
in
this
period.

With
that,
it
is
no
surprise
that,
with
the
growth
of
the

music
program
at
Industrial
High
School,
Birmingham’s
one
African
American
public
school,

130

Booker
T
Washington.
Up
from
Slavery,
an
Autobiography.
(Garden
City,
N.Y.:
Doubleday,

1963),
113.

Passing Notes in Class
Listening to Pedagogical Improvisations in Jazz History

Adam Bush

77
there
was
soon
a
clamoring
for
music
about,
in,
and
for
the
black
population
of
Birmingham,

Alabama.

In
the
concluding
chapter
of
W.E.B.
Du
Bois’
Souls
of
Black
Folk,
Of
the
Sorrow
Songs,

DuBois
describes
the
multifocal
evolution
and
impact
of
black
music
in
its
“development,
where

the
songs
of
white
America
have
been
distinctively
influenced
by
the
slave
songs
or
have

incorporated
whole
phrases
of
Negro
melody,
as
‘Swanee
River’
and
‘Old
Black
Joe.’”
131

In
the
same
year
as
Du
Bois’
publishing
of
Souls,
The
Birmingham
News
reported
its

white
school
superintendent
being
in
the
audience
of
the
Industrial
High
School
chorus’

“singing
of
“Old
Folks
at
Home”
by
upward
of
65
voices
was
superb.”

The
presence
of
the

school
superintendent
at
this
school
performance
was
no
coincidence.

Serenading
white

audiences
with
songs
of
the
Old
South
was,
of
course,
a
time
honored
fundraising
ploy.

After

the
Jubilee
Singers
saved
Fisk
from
bankruptcy
in
the
1870s,
hundreds
of
black
schools
began
to

imitate
the
patronage
strategy
of
the
university.
This
was
not
an
act
of
tradition;
there
was
no

school-‐based
tradition
of
Negro
spiritual
choirs.
Rather,
it
was,
as
Jon
Cruz
writes,
a
“response

to
the
entwined
issues
of
the
discovery
of
an
authenticity
in
the
eroding
wake
of
social

transformations
and
the
phenomenon
of
audience
development
that
had
come
about
through

the
interplay
of
increasingly
available
literary
transcriptions
of
black
songs,
concerts,
and

touring.”
132

131

W.
E.
B
Du
Bois.
The
Souls
of
Black
Folk
Essays
and
Sketches.
(Charlottesville,
Va.:
University

of
Virginia
Library,
1996),
123.

132

ibid,
239

Passing Notes in Class
Listening to Pedagogical Improvisations in Jazz History

Adam Bush

78
At
one
school
performance,
attended
by
Birmingham’s
white
school
superintendent,
in

1915,
the
subject
of
a
formal
instrumental
music
program
was
brought
forward
officially
by
the

student
body.

J.H.
Phillips
responded
that
“while
some
reference
had
been
made
to
a
teacher

of
orchestra
at
the
High
School,
[I
fear]
that
if
the
High
School
got
an
orchestra
instructor
the

young
people
would
be
apt
to
forget
their
old
songs.”

Eventually,
after
threat
of
walk-‐out
by

the
students
during
the
assembly,
he
relented,
saying,

“you
will
get
an
instructor
of
orchestra

on
one
condition,
and
that
is
that
you
will
always
sing
these
old
songs.”

133

The
next
school

year,
John
Whatley
was
brought
aboard
and
by
February
of
1917
there
was
a
fully
formed

Industrial
School
band.
134

Notably,
in
1917,
‘Fess
Whatley’s
teaching
of
jazz
in
high
schools

appears
to
be
the
earliest
of
high
school
jazz
education
(there
was
a
move
to
teach
jazz
in
New

Orleans
high
schools,
but
it
was
banned
before
it
ever
took
off
in
1922).

Industrial’s
music
program
had
reached
a
standstill
without
instruments
but,
bringing

Whatley
secured
a
place
for
music
in
the
community.

Whatley,
still
officially,
the
print
shop

instructor,
couched
the
development
of
the
band
program
within
the
language
and
ethos
of

industrial
education.

As
Frank
Adams
said,
“I
guess
it
followed
the
theory
of
Booker
T

133

Arthur
Harold
Parker,.
A
Dream
That
Came
True;
Autobiography
of
Arthur
Harold
Parker.

Birmingham,
Ala.:
[Industrial
High
School],
1932.

134

This
author’s
understanding
students
as
actors
in
this
curricular
upheaval
forced
a
dramatic

reframing
of
this
project.

No
longer
could
its
lens
only
point
to
“Master
Music
Teachers.”

Of

course
in
the
past
century
of
higher
education,
student
movements
have
been
central
in

creating
change.
This
student-‐initiated
change
is
echoed
throughout
the
history
of
jazz’s

incorporation
into
institutionalized
settings.

In
Los
Angeles,
for
example,
within
the
first
year
of

his
arrival
at
Jefferson
High
School,
Sam
Browne
began
an
after-‐school
jazz
band,
which,
in

Browne’s
words,
was
simply
responding
to
the
demands
of
the
students;
“I
didn’t
bring
jazz
in;

it
was
already
there.

I
just
met
[the
music]
head-‐on
and
I
put
my
arms
around
it.”

This
also

pushed
me
to
look
at
present
day
models
of
student-‐driven
curricular
change.

Passing Notes in Class
Listening to Pedagogical Improvisations in Jazz History

Adam Bush

79
Washington,
who
felt
that
you
should
do
those
kind
of
manual
discipline,
and
then
develop
into

other,
more
scholarly
areas.

It
was
not
like
you
were
being
prepared
for
college;
you
were

being
prepared
to
go
out
and
work
after
the
four
years
of
industrial
training.

If
you
couldn’t
get

a
college
education,
you
had
to
survive.

Like
Booker
T
Washington
said,
you
let
down
your

bucket
when
you
are.

One
had
Du
Bois,
the
other
philosopher,
who
said,
“No,
you’re
supposed

to
have
a
full
education;
forget
about
all
that
hand
stuff”===
but
the
people
had
just
come
out

of
slavery
to
a
certain
extent,
and
they
needed
to
be
taught
a
practical
skill.

So
Fess
Whatley

and
a
few
of
the
others
were
so
smart,
they
put
band
in
as
a
manual-‐arts
discipline.

And
this

music
thing
was
serious
business.”
135

Not
only
was
it
serious,
it
elevated
the
stature
of

musicians
throughout
the
community.

As
one
Whatley
student
commented,

“Well
music
was
the
center
of
our
entertainment
in
the
black
community,
and

they
felt
that
a
person
who
could
play
music
was
held
in
high
esteem.

All
the

professors
that
taught
music
were
held
in
high
esteem.

And
that
was
one
of
the

most
important
extra-‐developments
that
a
kid
could
have,
was
music.

Maybe

it’s
like
that
now,
but
its
not
like
that
now
as
much
as
it
was
then.

So
when
you

go
learn
how
to
play,
you’re
going
to
have
a
high
place
in
the
community.”
136

Added
another,
“the
whole
thing,
a
band,
you
couldn’t
have
a
black
community
in
Birmingham

or
in
anywhere
without
music.”
137

135

Dr.
Adams
Adams.
Interview
with
the
author,
Birmingham,
Alabama
March
29,
2004

136

Thomas
Stewart,
Interview
with
the
author,
with
the
author,
Birmingham,
Alabama
March

29,
2004

137

Jothan
Callins,
Interview
with
the
author,
with
the
author,
Birmingham,
Alabama
April
7,

2004

Passing Notes in Class
Listening to Pedagogical Improvisations in Jazz History

Adam Bush

80
By
1920
the
school
paper
reported
over
200
students
auditioning
for
Whatley’s
school

band,
which,
by
that
time
had
already
grown
to
a
50
musicians.

However,
even
then,
Whatley

was
never
appointed
to
the
position
of
band
director.

He
ran
it
as
a
vocation,
but
it
was
always

extra-‐curricula
to
his
own
employ
in
the
print
shop.

So
he
was
never
officially
called
the
band
director.
His
thing
was
the
print.
He
put

the
music
program
in
that
school,
because
he
wanted
it
in
there.
And
it
was
a

vocational
school.,
and
the
whole
secret
behind
it
was
he
taught
that
music
just

like
it
was
a
science,
it
was
an
art.
You
see,
It
wasn’t
a
frill.
It
was
just
like

anything
else.
138

In
1933,
Whatley
helped
to
organize
two-‐dozen
musicians
to
form
the
American
Federation
of

Musicians
Local
733,
which,
as
described
in
the
program
dedicating
John
T.
Whatley
Elementary

School,
“literally
injected
rhythm
into
the
consciousness
of
the
Birmingham
citizenry.”

Until

1963
Whatley
taught
at
Parker
High
School,
never
relinquishing
his
title
as
print
shop
teacher.

As
Frank
Adams
said,
“Professor
Whatley
was
the
disciplinarian
supreme.

He
was
like
a
legend

in
the
community,
and
his
longevity
really
made
him
respected.”
139

This
was
echoed
in
interview
after
interview:

Thomas
Lyle:
Whatley
was
successful
because
there
was
a
history
of
Whatley.
He
was
a

legend
by
the
time
I
got
in
the
band,
you
see?

Eventually
other
band
instructors
were
hired;
George
Hudson,
the
famed
Tuskegee
band

instructor
among
them.

Even
with
other
teachers,
however,
Whatley’s
position
as
music

138

Dr.
Frank
Adams,.
Interview
with
the
author,
Birmingham,
Alabama
March
29,
2004

139

Frank
Adams
and
Burgin
Mathews.
Doc
the
Story
of
a
Birmingham
Jazz
Man.
(Tuscaloosa,

Ala.:
University
of
Alabama
Press,
2012),
51.

Passing Notes in Class
Listening to Pedagogical Improvisations in Jazz History

Adam Bush

81
director
still
held.

From
the
print
shop,
directly
below
the
band
room,
Whatley
would
yell

through
the
floorboards
when
he
heard
a
wrong
note
or
a
missed
beat.

“That’s
basically
what
he
taught.
He’d
always
make
a
statement
that
music
was

not
the
only
discipline
that
requires
concentration.
That’s
the
first
thing
we

started
with.
If
you
could
concentrate
in
music
and
develop
ingenuity
and
a

certain
positive
direction,
you
could
do
it
anywhere
else.
That
was
one
of
his

statements.
He
wanted
you
to
be
able
to
apply
what
he
was
talking
to
in
music.

He
said,
he
didn’t
care
if
you
never
played
another
instrument
the
rest
of
you

life,
but
I
hope
you
live
to
remain
disciplined
enough
just
to
get
through
life
in

general.
See
what
I’m
saying?

This
notion
of
teaching
discipline
was
at
the
center
of
Whatley’s
music
instruction.

To

him,
improvisation
happened
out
of
the
practice
and
discipline
needed
to
learn
the

music
as
written.

Only
through
preciseness,
through
self-‐discipline,
and
through

exactness
could
students
develop
the
skills
to
play
notes
as
they,
collectively,
wanted.

That’s
what
a
band
was.

While
not
teaching
jazz
in
the
school
(but
creating
professional

opportunities
for
it
in
gigs
throughout
the
state),
Whatley
taught
the
tenets
of
jazz

performance
with
a
pedagogy
of
practice
and
discipline,
yes,
but
also
with
an
ethos
of

improvisation
in
helping
students
learn
how
to
navigate
the
world
around
them
through

music
and
the
freedom
that
music
afforded.

Whatley
was
known
for
having
a
constant
presence
on
the
school’s
campus.

Passing Notes in Class
Listening to Pedagogical Improvisations in Jazz History

Adam Bush

82
During
the
weekends,
several
students
recounted
how
he’d
“sneak
them
in”
to
the
band

room
(though
if
everyone’s
being
snuck
in,
it
wasn’t
much
of
a
secret).

Thomas
Lyle,

who
went
on
to
run
the
Alabama
State
University
and
Stillman
College
band
program,

related,

Every
Saturday
morning
he
would
let
me
come
he’d
let
me
use
his
tenor
sex
that
he
had

and
I
would
go
in
there
and
practice
the
Jazz
book.
He
made
me
practice
everything
in

that
book
without
a
promise
that
I
was
ever
gonna
play.
He
got
I
know
what
he
was

doing
now
just
in
case
he
needed
a
tenor
sax
he
had
a
little
ole
boy
who
could
play
the

book
and
I
be
there
just
primarily
every
Saturday
morning.
He’d
be
working
but
oh
he’d

be
listening
though….Because
he
was,
he
was
the
last
word.
If
you
played
Fess…

AB:
…You
made
it.

TL:
You
were
on
your
way
yeah
you
had
arrived.
But,
ah,
Fess
was
a
great
man
in
my
life

and
he,
ah.
But
I
remembered
they
needed
somebody
you
know
what
was,
ah,
the
band

director
he
maybe
could
have
been
intended
for
me
to
hear
this.
I
remember
Fess
said,

what
about
that
Lyle,
what
about
that
Lyle
boy
out
there.
I
heard
he
was
good
ain’t

nothing
to
it,
just
talk.
That
might
have
been,
it
could
have
discouraging
but
for

somebody
like
me
I
say
I
show
you
just
talk
and
I
became
first
chair
yes
I
did.

AB:
To
spite
Fess?

TL:
To
spite
Fess
yes
and
look
I
became
a
member
of
Fess’s
band
so
I
had
to
be
considered

as
somebody.

But
‘Fess’s
discipline
was
couched
in
a
vocational
philosophy
as
well.

Passing Notes in Class
Listening to Pedagogical Improvisations in Jazz History

Adam Bush

83
The
main
thing
was
you
had
to
read
music
quickly.

At
that
time
bands
were

expanding.

And
Fess
always
insisted
on
having
a
large
band,
like
Fletcher
Henderson
or

Duke
Ellington.

The
thing
about
the
size
of
the
band
was,
the
more
people
you
put
in

there,
the
more
importance
on
reading
music.

You
could
just
take
a
clarinet
and
a

trumpet
and
a
rhythm
section,
and
you
could
each
go
your
own
way—like
a
Dixieland

band,
its
got
all
these
contrapuntal
parts
going
at
the
same
time,
different
instruments

going
up
against
each
other—but
when
you
had
a
big
band,
when
you
had
one

saxophone
and
you
added
two
more
to
get
a
certain
sound,
every
man
couldn’t
go
for

himself.

You
had
to
have
harmony.

You
had
to
be
in
a
section.

You
had
to
have
an

arrangement,
and
that
called
for
the
reading
of
music.

“Improvisation—making
things
up—wasn’t
his
forte.

His
thing
was
not
making

up
things.

But
that
was
why
he
was
so
successful,
because
he
insisted
on
you
being

mechanical.

If
you
played
“In
the
Mood,”
you
played
it
like
it
was
written.“
140

But
this
was
improvisation.

While
discipline
may
seem
antithetical
to
improvisation’s

spontaneity,
disciplinary
practice
also
“allow
for
unthought
possibilities
to
emerge.
141
”

In
terms

of
appearance,
timeliness,
and
musical
exactitude,
discipline
was
a
pedagogical
improvisation

for
Whatley
to
ensure
vocational
pathways
in
a
changing
musical
landscape
out
of
Birmingham,

college
scholarships
for
a
high
school
not
aimed
toward
college
acceptances,
and
to
ensure
that

the
class
and
culture
of
the
Black
community
of
Birmingham
shown
strongly
in
an
era
of

discrimination
and
segregation.

When
Whatley
would
scold
a
student
with
the
aphorism,
“If
I

140

Frank
Adams
and
Burgin
Mathews.
Doc
the
Story
of
a
Birmingham
Jazz
Man.
Tuscaloosa,

Ala.:
University
of
Alabama
Press,
2012.
51-‐52

141

Daniel
Fischlin
and
Ajay
Heble.
The
Fierce
Urgency
of
Now:
Improvisation,
Rights,
and
the

Ethics
of
Cocreation.
(Duke
University
Press,
2013)
238.

Passing Notes in Class
Listening to Pedagogical Improvisations in Jazz History

Adam Bush

84
had
a
meeting
with
the
devil
in
hell,
I’d
get
there
15
minutes
early
just
to
see
what
the
hell
he

wanted,
142
”
he
was
negotiating
the
expectations
of
a
professional
musician
scene
that
wasn’t

just
based
in
Tuxedo
Junction,
but
in
the
spaces
of
music-‐making
across
Birmingham
and
after

high
school.

142

Every
Whatley
student
I
talked
to
who
played
in
his
semi-‐professional
bands
recounted

being
scolded
with
that
saying.

Passing Notes in Class
Listening to Pedagogical Improvisations in Jazz History

Adam Bush

85
The
Motions
of
Oklahoma
City’s
Zelia
N.
Breaux

Leroy
Parks:
I
don’t
think
she
ever
played
any
Jazz.
I
don’t
think
she
would.

Adam
Bush:
But
she
did
bring
it,
I
mean
she
ran
the
Eldridge
and
people
would
come

and
perform
at
the
Aldridge
for
everyone
in
town.

LP:
Well
she
owned
the
theater
didn’t
she?
I
think
she
did
and
we
would
have

perform
there.
I
mean
at
this
theater
it
was
the
only
theater
that
we
could
go
to

and
she
would
have
these
great
guys
to
come
by
and
a
lot
of
times
and
they’d

have
a
performance
and
they
would
perform.
You
know,
in
theaters
and
over

there,
the
theater
over
there
on
Second
Street
well
that
was
the
only
place.
Only

theater
we
could
go
to
anyway.

Talking
here
about
the
Aldridge
Theater
owned
by
Ms.
Breaux,
Leroy
Parks,
an
alumnus
and

accomplished
tenor
saxophonist
and
contemporary
of
Charlie
Christian
and
Jimmy
Rushing,

Parks
is
exaggerating
a
bit.

There
were
several
well-‐known
clubs
and
performance
venues
in

Deep
Deuce
in
the
heart
of
Oklahoma
City—Slaughter’s
Hall,
the
Hole,
Ruby’s
Grill
among
them.

But
the
Aldridge
was
the
earliest
and
most
celebrated
a
stop
on
the
Chitlin
Circuit—where

Bessie
Smith,
Ma
Rainey,
King
Oliver,
Ida
Cox,
and
Mamie
Smith
all
played.
On
May
1
st
,
1948

Erskine
Hawkins
played
the
Zebra
Room
of
the
Deep
Deuce
neighborhood
of
Oklahoma
City;
a

large
dance
hall
that
could
hold
over
500
attendees.

The
night
before,
on
April
30
th
,
however,

Erskine
came
to
town
to
make
a
surprise
appearance
at
the
Aldridge
Theater;
a
smaller
venue

used
primarily
for
vaudeville
acts
and
movie
screenings
that
was
a
mainstay
on
the
Chitlin

Passing Notes in Class
Listening to Pedagogical Improvisations in Jazz History

Adam Bush

86
Circuit.

This
was
a
time
of
traveling
bands
that
played
mainly
in
black
communities.
The

musicians
took
care
of
one
another
on
the
circuit,
which
included
Kansas
City,
Oklahoma
City

and
other
places
in
Oklahoma
like
Tulsa,
Okmulgee,
Boley
and
Muskogee.

Built
in
1919
and

owned
by
Zelia
Breaux
and
F.
Ernest
Whitlow,
the
Aldridge
hosted
territory
bands
and
national

acts
and
a
surprising
amount
of
famous
musicians;
Cab
Calloway,
Duke
Ellington,
Louis

Armstrong,
and
Count
Basie
all
had
single
night
performances
at
the
Aldridge
between
1924

and
1937;
some
of
them
occurring
the
night
prior
or
following
another
show
in
Oklahoma
City.

Music
programs
like
Whatley’s
in
Alabama
and
Dyett’s
in
Chicago
were
closely
tied
to

the
professional
opportunities
to
which
their
high
school
students
were
exposed.
Dyett’s

HiJinks
revue,
for
example,
created
occasion
for
both
traveling
and
local
musicians
to
hear
the

talents
of
their
students.

And
Sam
Browne’s
Jefferson
High
School
classroom
would
welcome

musicians
playing
that
evening
at
Central
Avenue’s
Dunbar
Hotel.

But
none
were
perhaps
as

intimately
tied
to
traveling
musicians
as
the
students
of
Ms.
Zelia
N.
Breaux.

Ralph
Ellison,

reflecting
on
his
time
as
Breaux’s
pupil
wrote
in
Going
to
the
Territory,
“Mrs.
Breaux
was
a

musician
and
a
teacher
of
music…
thanks
to
her,
ours
became
a
music-‐centered
culture,
which

involved
as
many
of
the
other
arts
as
was
possible
in
a
system
that
was
limited
in
budget
and

facilities.”
143

It
was
some
of
those
facilities,
Breaux,
herself,
created.

For
Oklahoma
City,
Zelia

Breaux
was
not
just
host
to
traveling
musicians
within
the
classroom;
Breaux
ensured
they

played
for
her
students
in
a
theater
she
owned
and
managed
in
the
Deep
Deuce,
and
she

created
opportunities
for
her
students
to
travel
with
them
and
as
a
high
school
band

143

Ralph
Ellison.
Going
to
the
Territory.
(New
York:
Random
House,
1986),
134.

Passing Notes in Class
Listening to Pedagogical Improvisations in Jazz History

Adam Bush

87
throughout
the
country.
As
her
reputation
grew,
musicians
knew
not
to
book
a
stop
in

Oklahoma
City
without
at
least
an
afternoon
visit
to
the
Aldridge
where
Breaux’s
Douglass
High

School
students
would
get
the
chance
to
socialize
out
of
school
with
their
professional

counterparts.
144

For
Breaux,
bringing
musicians
to
Oklahoma
City
was
a
large
part
of
her
legacy.
Owning

and
operating
the
Aldridge
Theater
gave
her
both
a
venue
to
attract
acts
to
the
city
and
to

publicize
the
accomplishments
of
her
Douglass
High
School
band
through
newsreels
she’d

project
before
every
film.

Elected
director
of
music
for
Black
schools
in
Oklahoma
City
in

1918,
145

Breaux
took
control
of
the
Aldridge
less
than
a
year
later.

Breaux
acted
quickly
to
bring

those
worlds
together.

The
Aldridge’s
projector
soon
became
a
means
for
the

accomplishments
of
the
high
school
band
to
be
shown
throughout
the
city
(and
Breaux’s

connections
to
newsreel
editors
allowed
her
to
request
footage
of
the
Douglass
High
School

Band
be
incorporated
into
national
reels).

Following
a
1922
performance
of
the
Negro
National

Anthem
in
Chicago’s
Soldier’s
Field
by
2000
Oklahoma
youth
under
the
direction
of
“Madam

Zelia
Breaux,
through
the
enterprise
of
the
Aldridge
Theater,
management
arrangements
have

144

Douglass
High
School’s
1940
Oklahoman
Yearbook
page
42
“and
boy
did
we
see
them
this

year
at
the
Aldridge!”

145

Black
Dispatch,
July
5,
1918,
Teachers
Elected:
“Another
splendid
acquisition
to
the
public

school
system
is
Mrs.
Zelia
Breaux
for
20
years
the
only
musical
instructor
that
the
university
at

Langston
ever
had.

Mrs.
Breaux
is
the
eldest
daughter
of
the
former
president
Inman
E
Page
of

Langston
University
and
according
to
superintendent
Whiteford,
coms
to
the
city
school
system

highly
recommended
by
president
Marques”

Passing Notes in Class
Listening to Pedagogical Improvisations in Jazz History

Adam Bush

88
been
made
with
the
Pathe
News
to
have
pictures
made
of
the
parade
features
which
will
be

shown
all
over
the
United
States.”
146

As
the
story
goes,
it
was
not
until
Louis
Armstrong,
in
passing
through
Oklahoma
City
for
a

performance
at
the
Aldridge
Theater,
commented
on
wanting
to
hear
her
school
band
perform

in
1927,
did
Breaux
decide
to
institute
a
Douglass
High
School
Booster
Band.

Other
musicians

too,
were
heavily
influenced
by
Breaux’s
Aldridge
Theater.

As
Michael
Harper
writes
in
his

review
of
Count
Basie’s
biography,
“Basie's
first
band,
formed
in
1935-‐36,
was
made
up
of

members
of
''territory
bands''
in
the
Southwest,
mainly
Oklahoma.
These
musicians
had
come

from
strong,
aggressive
black
communities
-‐
why
else
had
these
communities
sprung
up
so
far

west?
-‐
and
from
good
teachers,
one
of
whom,
Zelia
Breaux,
taught
harmony
and
band
at

Frederick
Douglass
High
School
in
Oklahoma
City.
She
insisted
that
her
students
read
music,

played
piano
for
the
silent
movies
at
the
Aldridge
Theater
on
''Deep
Second''
Street
and

influenced
the
singer
Jimmy
Rushing
and
the
guitarist
Charlie
Christian
as
well
as
Ralph
Ellison,

the
novelist.”
147

Anita
Arnold’s
curation
at
the
Oklahoma
City
public
library
and
her
collection

“Oklahoma
City
Music:
Deep
Deuce
and
Beyond”
makes
clear,
the
Deep
Deuce
neighborhood

was
“a
battleground
for
social
justice
and
the
birthplace
of
cultural
diversity
in
Oklahoma
City”

where
the
conditions
of
segregation
insisted
that
self-‐contained
Black
entrepreneurship
and

small
businesses
develop
a
culture
of
dependency
and
vibrancy.

Events
that
Breaux
organized
attracted
musicians
from
all
over.

146

Black
Dispatch,
May
4,
1922

147

Michael
Harper.
"THE
COUNT'S
ACCOUNT."
The
New
York
Times,
February
2,
1986,
sec.
B.

Passing Notes in Class
Listening to Pedagogical Improvisations in Jazz History

Adam Bush

89
R.CW:
Oh
yeah
Duke
Ellington
knew
Miss
Breaux
personally.
I’ll
tell
you
who
else
knew

him
personally,
Satchmo
too.

AB:
Yeah!?

R.C.W.:
Now
one
day
we
were
at
my
high
school
every
Friday
morning
at
10:00
we
had

assemblies.
The
senior
set
up
front,
the
junior
class,
sophomore
class
middle

aisle.
Over
here
the,
ah,
here’s
first
our
high
school
was
all
junior
and
senior
high

was
…
And
so
once
one
Friday
morning
we
went
to
the
auditorium
nobody
knew

anything.
They
didn’t
let
a
word
out
and
when
the
curtain
went
back
Breaux

stepped
to
the
microphone
and
she
said
“boys
and
girls,”
she
said,
“before
we

have
assembly
she
said
may
I
have
a
gentlemen
that
I’d
like
for
you
to
meet”
and

he
pulled
back
the
second
curtain
and
Duke
Ellington
was
sitting
there
at
the

piano
and
played
Mood
Indigo
and
let’s
see,
ah.
And,
ah,
the
other
one,
Take
the

A
Train.
Now
you
talk
like
the
kids
went
wild
and,
ah,
the
Three
Little
Words
song

and,
you
know,
what
he
called
Miss
Breaux?
I’m
glad
we
here
today
with
Ma

Breaux
(laughs)
You
know?

You
know
strong
for
a
friendship
you
know
about

that?
Yeah
it
was
Louis
Armstrong,
Duke
Ellington,
and
we
had
another
guy
come

through
Paul
Robinson.
You
know,
he
was
a
graduate
of
that
big
school
in
New

York….
She
is
quite
a
girl
there
Breaux,
and
every
summer
when
school
was
you

know
where
she’d
go?
Northwestern
University
of
Chicago,
she
had
all
kinds
of

degrees
but
she
studied
every
summer
there
and
would
send
me
a
book
the

latest
book
back.
Bring
it
back
home
drum
majors.
She
was
an
up-‐to-‐date

woman.
She
really
had
things
together.
Smile,
beautiful
lady
but
I’ll
tell
you
what

don’t
make
her
mad.
She’d
blow
up
for
about
15-‐20
minutes
after
she
got
it
out

of
her
system.
And
while
she
could
make
you,
she
was
a
great
lady,
ah.
She
could

make
you
feel,
she
wouldn’t
have
to
touch
you.
She’d
just
talk
to
you.
That’s

worse
than
any
thing
(laughs)
That’s
right.
Now
this
is
real
special
to
tell
these

Passing Notes in Class
Listening to Pedagogical Improvisations in Jazz History

Adam Bush

90
stories.

I
had
all
kinds
of
stuff
that
I’ve
got
now
on
display.
I’d
like
to
give
most

of
the
things
back
to
Miss
Breaux
though.
That’s
a
shame
I
can’t

AB:
These
pictures
are
amazing.

R.C.W.:
Ain’t
they
something?
See
that
lady
there
she
made
quite
a
contribution
to
the,

to
this
city
and
to
this
state.
She
was
way
ahead
of
her
time.
Now
here
is
a
fella

that
was
a
drum
major
for
a
while.
Now
let’s
see
I
want
to
be
sure
and
get
that

picture
of
me
and
the
Jazz
orchestra.
Now
here’s
the
thing
about
it,
you
see

these
fella’s
here?

(R.C.
Watson
points
now
to
a
picture
of
the
1933
Jazz
orchestra)

R.C.W.:
This
whole
band
got
jobs
in
bands
after—these
guys
left
for
Kansas
City
and

here’s
Charles
Young
and
Eddie
Christian,
and
Leroy
Parks
they
were
the
Blue
Devils,
and
here’s

me
watching.

I
came
home
after
the
Marines
and
Leroy
is
around
now.

But
isn’t
that

something?

But
there’s
a
danger
in
highlighting
the
narrative
of
people
moving
in
and
out
of
a
place

in
jazz
history.

The
jazz
aesthetic
for
many
rests
firmly
on
the
bandstand,
where
history
rotates

between
a
narrative
of
great
men
and
their
great
performances;
neglecting
the
cultural

institutions
with
which
the
music
interacted.

Improvisation
is
about
spontaneity
and

movement
but,
“to
tell
that
story,”
George
Lipsitz
writes,
“privileges
the
communities
that
the

migrants
come
to
in
the
city
over
the
communities
of
shared
historical
experience
that
they

Passing Notes in Class
Listening to Pedagogical Improvisations in Jazz History

Adam Bush

91
depart
from
in
order
to
become
urban.”
148

If
the
story
of
Breaux
is
becomes
a
story
about

musicians
graduating
and
leaving
(Charlie
Christian
and
Jimmy
Rushing
among
them)
or

successful
non-‐local
musicians
coming
in
for
a
tour
stop
than
Liptsitz’s
warning
goes
unheard.

AB:
It’s
great
to
hear
you
talk
about
that.
I
don’t
want
to
change
subjects
but
before
the

tape
runs
out.
Did
you
ever
travel
with
the
band,
were
you
around
when
they
did
travels

to
the
World’s
Fair
any
of
those?

LP:
I
went
to
around
in
the
states
yes
just
like
when
I
came.
When
I
was
able
to
go
around
in

Oklahoma
and
the
states
that
adjoin
Oklahoma
I
would
travel
with.
But
I
couldn’t
go
I

have
to
have
a
job
in
the
day
so
I
had
to
take
my
little
gigs
at
night.
But
they
couldn’t
be

where
I
would
have
to
stay.

But
the
ethics
and
aesthetics
of
“the
road”
can
also
be
a
tool
to
examine
what
it
means

to
travel
within
place
or
even
to
consciously
choose
not
to
travel.

Its
like
a
man
being
born
in
little
place,
just
a
bend
in
the
road

somewhere.

After
a
while
he
begins
to
travel
the
road.

He
travels
all
the
road

there
is
and
then
he
comes
back.

That
man,
he
understands
something
when
he

gets
back.
He
knows
the
road
goes
away
and
he
knows
the
road
comes
back.

He

knows
that
road
comes
back
just
the
same
way
it
goes
away.

But
you
take
another
man.

He’s
been
there
in
that
bend
in
the
road,
and

he
never
goes
away.

Time
goes
by
and
he’s
coming
to
the
end
of
his
days.

He

looks
at
that
road
and
he
doesn’t
really
know
what
it
is.

He’s
missed
it.

That

road,
it
got
away
form
him.

All
he
knows
is
how
it
starts
off.

He
never
gets
to

know
how
it
goes
and
how
it
comes
back,
how
it
feels
to
come
back…
The
music,

its
that
road.
149

148

George
Lipsitz,.
Footsteps
in
the
Dark:
The
Hidden
Histories
of
Popular
Music.
(Minneapolis:

University
of
Minnesota
Press,
2007),
86.

149

Sidney
Bechet,.
Treat
It
Gentle.
(New
York:
Hill
and
Wang,
1960),
1.

Passing Notes in Class
Listening to Pedagogical Improvisations in Jazz History

Adam Bush

92

Sidney
Bechet’s
autobiography,
quoted
above,
ties
much
of
its
story
of
travel—to
leaving
New

Orleans
for
Paris
and
New
York.

But,
through
this,
it
is
also,
inextricably,
tied
to
sense
of
home

(which,
over
time,
may
evolve
as
well).

The
road
of
black
music
that
Bechet
discusses
was
also

a
road
back
and
a
means
to
re-‐encounter
a
feeling
of
home.

It
is
this
sense
of
home
that
is

absent
from
a
historiography
forever
moving
forward.
The
music
for
Bechet
is
not
simply
a
way

out—by
road,
riverboat,
or
tour
bus—
the
road
of
black
music
was
also
a
road
back
and
a

means
to
re-‐encounter
a
feeling
of
home.

It
is
this
sense
of
home
that
is
absent
from
a

historiography
forever
moving
forward.

By
refocusing
music
study
on
its
sites
and
communities

of
origin,
the
places
left
behind
rather
than
its
destinations,
and
the
social
conditions
of
sound

rather
than
the
sound
of
social
conditions,
a
new
understanding
of
what
those
sites
allowed

and
the
centrality
of
black
music
in
the
African
American
community
can
surface.

Lawrence

Levine
writes
in
Black
Culture
and
Black
Consciousness
that
“the
slaves’
expressive
arts
and

sacred
beliefs
were
more
than
merely
a
series
of
outlets
or
strategies;
they
were
instruments
of

life,
of
sanity,
of
health,
and
of
self
respect.

Slave
music,
slave
religion,
slave
folk
beliefs—the

entire
sacred
world
of
black
slaves—created
the
necessary
space
between
slaves
and
their

owners
and
were
the
means
of
preventing
legal
slavery
from
becoming
spiritual
slavery.”
150

If

we
look
at
music
as
a
means
for
community
survival,
then
migration
takes
on
new
meaning.

150

Lawrence
W
Levine,.
Black
Culture
and
Black
Consciousness:
Afro-‐American
Folk
Thought

from
Slavery
to
Freedom.
(New
York:
Oxford
University
Press,
1977),
80.

Passing Notes in Class
Listening to Pedagogical Improvisations in Jazz History

Adam Bush

93
The
migration
of
musicians
and
their
sounds
is
not
just
for
individual
gain,
but
also
for
the

collective
gain
of
the
community.
151

Breaux’s
story
is
about
travel
and
movement,
but
it
is
always
a
travel
and
movement

made
in
relation
to
a
lack
of
freedom
of
movement
and
the
social
constraints
of
segregation

that
enabled
black
owned-‐business
districts
to
emerge
as
well
as
segregated
Black
schools
that

fostered
these
music
programs.

Improvisation
and
motion
are
intimately
tied.

The
process
of

music
creation
is
a
kinesthetic
one
and
Breaux’s
true
musical
work
was
in
expanding
the
Deep

Deuce
neighborhood
in
which
her
theater
was
based
and
claiming
city
streets
in
Oklahoma
City

and
elsewhere
through
public
parades
and
celebrations.

This
is
about
‘place-‐making’
but
it
is

also
about
place-‐claiming.

As
Ralph
Ellison
wrote
in
Going
to
the
Territory,
“it
is
important
to

know
that
it
is
not
geography
alone
which
determines
the
quality
of
life
and
culture.

These

depend
on
the
courage
and
personal
culture
of
the
individuals
who
make
their
homes
in
any

given
locality.”
152

It
was
in
this
setting
that
Mrs.
Zelia
N.
Page
Breaux
organized
the
first
Douglass
band
in

1923
when
she
outfitted
24
young
men.
Mrs.
Breaux
also
expanded
the
music
department
by

organizing
a
chorus,
orchestra,
boys
quartet,
girls
quartet
and
boys
glee
club.

There
were
39

151

In
Dangerous
Crossroads
George
Lipsitz
details
the
politics
of
Afro-‐diasporic
sounds.

Quoting
Max
Roach,
Lipsitz
analyses
the
“politics
in
the
drums”
of
black
music;
“the
rhythm
was

very
militant
to
me
because
it
was
like
marching,
the
sound
of
an
army
on
the
move.
We
lost

Malcolm,
we
lost
King,
and
they
thought
they
had
blotted
out
everybody.

But
all
of
a
sudden

this
new
art
form
arises
and
the
militancy
is
there
in
the
music.”
(Max
Roach
quote
in
Lipsitz,

George.
Dangerous
Crossroads:
Popular
Music,
Postmodernism,
and
the
Poetics
of
Place.

London:
Verso,
1994.
38.)
In
other
words,
regardless
of
the
existence
of
any
overt
political

context
in
the
lyrics,
music
has
the
potential
to
transmit
a
sense
of
communality
to
its
audience.

152

Ralph
Ellison.
Going
to
the
Territory.
(New
York:
Random
House,
1986),
134.

Passing Notes in Class
Listening to Pedagogical Improvisations in Jazz History

Adam Bush

94
graduates
in
that
first
music
class
-‐-‐
30
girls
and
nine
boys
—-‐
who
marched
down
the
aisles
of

Tabernacle
Baptist
Church
as
the
graduating
class
of
1925
with
Lonzetta
Townsend
vocal
solo

and
clarinet
solo
of
Malcolm
Whitby.
153

The
Tellus,
the
Douglass
High
School
year
book,
bragged
the
next
year
claiming,

“Musical
gains
in
the
1920s
were
outstanding.
It
was
mainly
because
of
a
class
in
Music

Appreciation
taught
by
Mrs.
Breaux
that
operettas
were
performed
so
and
appreciated
so
by

the
citizens.

But
the
major
musical
innovation
as
far
as
Douglass
High
School
was
concerned

was
the
Douglass
Marching
Band
-‐-‐
which
started
24
strong,
all
male
with
John
Brown
as
drum

major.
Mrs.
Breaux
had
taught
these
young
men
music,
music
theory
and
music
appreciation

from
the
elementary
grades
to
the
high
school
and
the
band
made
its
debut
in
the
fall
of
1923.

A
few
of
the
original
members
had
received
private
lessons
but
much
of
what
they
learned

came
form
Mrs.
Breaux
or
Mrs.
Delaware
or
Asher
McCain
another
music
teacher
in
the

separate
school
system.”

Adam
Bush:

Did
you
travel
for
competitions
with
Miss
Breaux’s
marching
band
or
was
it

more
just
to
perform
at
fairs
and
such?

Leroy
Parks:
Well
it
was
more
of
a
performance
thing
mostly.
Miss
Breaux,
her
band
was

only
high
school
and
we
would
go
different
places
wherever
the
football
or

basketball
team
go.
We
maybe
would
go
there
and
mostly
was
in
the
state

things.

AB:
And
how’s
the
band
received
when
it
traveled?

153

1924
Douglass
High
School
Graduation
program,
maintained
in
the
library
of
Douglass
High

School

Passing Notes in Class
Listening to Pedagogical Improvisations in Jazz History

Adam Bush

95

LP:
Oh
we
were
received
really
held
up
there
we
felt
we
were
well
we
was
received

just
with
open
arms.

AB:
Did
you
only
perform
for
other
Black
audiences
or
were
there
white
high
schools

you
performed
for
or
anything
like
that.

LP:
Most
of
the
times
it
was
just
high
schools
and
different
high
schools
and

competing,
you
know,
with
each
other.
Like
Tulsa
and
Oklahoma
we
had
a
thing

going
where,
you
know,
it
was
competition.
We
tried
to
be
the
best
and
I
guess

they
was
trying
to
be
the
best.
But
I
think
we
had
greatest
band
in
Oklahoma
at

the
time.
We
had
a
nice
performance
we
got
even
when
I
was
high
school
I
got

to
see
a
lot
of
the
state
of
Oklahoma
by
being
in
the
band
traveling
with
the

band
to
football
games
or
I’d
go
to
Tulsa
and
different
places
like
that.
This
was
a

treat
for
us.

AB:
What
was
it
like
wearing
the
school
uniform,
did
that
matter?

LP:
Oh
God
yes
we
thought
it
was
tops
and
we
were
so
proud.
It
seemed
like

we
enjoyed
it
and
we
was
proud
to
be
a
Douglas
High
School
student
and
everything

else.
We
didn’t
know
anything
else
and
it
was
good,
it
was
great.

AB:
Are
there
any
other
values
I
guess
you
could
say
Miss
Breaux
instilled
in
when

you
were
at
school?

LP:
I
think
that
all
the
school,
all
the
teachers
would
always
try
to
instill
in
us
that
we

was
as
good
as
anyone
else.
It’s
hard
to
get
it
over
to
us
because
we
knew
at
that

time
we
was
so
segregated
but
all
our
teachers
taught
us
that.
You’re
just
as

Passing Notes in Class
Listening to Pedagogical Improvisations in Jazz History

Adam Bush

96
good
as
the
other
and
you
can
be
whatever
you
want
to
be.
But
at
that
time
we

couldn’t
see
it.
But
by
me
being
87
years
old
now
I’ve
seen
it.
I’ve
darn
near

come
from
it
wasn’t
slavery
but
it
was
still
segregation.
I’ve
come
from
that
to

what
it
is
now
and
I
seen
that
if
you
want
to.
If
you
apply
yourself,
I
don’t
care

what
color
you
are,
who
you
are
in
the
United
States
you
can
be
that.
If
you

apply
yourself
for
it,
that’s
what
I
think.
Greatest
country
in
the
world,
I
love
it.

This
‘sensibility
of
the
road’
is
not
just
about
physical
movement,
but
about
the

aesthetics
of
black
music’s
mobility
being
imbued
within
cultural,
community,
and
institutional

formations
bounded
to
place.

Jazz
histories
move—certainly
because
they
are
connected
with

stories
of
motion
and
migration,
but
also
because
the
we
can
look
at
the
jazz
narrative
as
one

of
metaphorical
‘movement’
that
emphasizes
“the
social
(and
institutional)
conditions
of

possibility—collective
forms
of
social
organization,
shared
experimentation,
and
a
willingness
to

take
risks.”
154

There
is
a
romance
to
how
this
music
is
shared—one
that
privileges
arrival
and

performance
above
practice
and
pedagogy—but
to
talk
about
master
mentors
and
sites
of

origin
without
becoming
canonical
and
static
is
a
tricky
proposition.
This
is
what
Nathaniel

Mackey
means
when
he
responds
to
Amiri
Baraka’s
“Swing:
From
Verb
to
Noun”
chapter
in

Blues
People,
which
critiqued
the
commodification
of
black
music
and
the
loss
of
agency
Baraka

say
in
music’s
ownership.
Mackey
saw
the
“countering
and
consistory
tendencies”
within
that

shift,
there
emerged
a
different
“verb-‐ing,
”
one
that
served
as
a
flip
on
“the
aesthetic
level,
a

154

Herman
Gray,.
Cultural
Moves
African
Americans
and
the
Politics
of
Representation.

(Berkeley:
University
of
California
Press,
2005),
52.

Passing Notes in Class
Listening to Pedagogical Improvisations in Jazz History

Adam Bush

97
less
dynamic,
less
improvisatory,
less
blues-‐inflected
music
and,
on
the
political
level,
a

containment
of
black
mobility.”
155

The
mobility
that
Breaux
opened
up
was
through
both
(re)claiming
public
spaces
within

Oklahoma
City
and
in
taking
her
students
out
of
Oklahoma
City.

“It
was
just
remarkable
the

trips
we
made,”
RC
Watson
told
about
his
high
school
music
teacher
Zelia
N.
Breaux.

We
did
amazing
things
together
as
a
band—
in
1935
me
and
Alonzo
Williams,

“Dub”

McCauley
and
the
whole
band
went
to
the
Elks
Meeting
in
Denver
in
1931,
the
Worlds

Fair
in
Chicago
in
1935
and
the
Texas
Centennial
in
Dallas
and
a
halftime
show
at
the

Cotton
Bowl
in
1939.

We
were
everywhere!

We
marched
down
the
streets
of
Dallas
at

the
Texas
Centennial
from
the
Negro
YMCA
all
the
way
to
The
Cotton
Bowl
and
play
for

the
Langston-‐Wiley
football
game
and
we
even….
Do
you
know
who
Mussolini
is?

We’ll

we
were
at
the
Chicago
Worlds
Fair
and….
there
we
were
playing
in
front
of
Mussolini—
and
playing
better
than
his
band
no
less.

Watson,
one
of
Breaux’s
drum
majors
who
would
go
on
to
become
one
of
the
first

dozen
African
American
members
of
the
US
Marine
Corps
identified
Ms.
Breaux
and
her
music

program
as
the
driving
influence
in
his
life.

But
Breaux’s
program,
especially
in
physicality,

extended
far
beyond
the
music
classroom
walls.

Travel—movement
actually—was
critically

important
to
the
music
made,
nurtured,
and
inspired
by
Zelia
Breaux.

“When
I
first
went
to
Douglass
there
was
no
band
at
all,
no
instruments,
no
nothing
but

a
woman
with
a
lots
of
musical
talent,
a
love
for
us
boys
who
had‘
absolutely
nothing
and
a

mighty
lots
of
ambition
to
see
us
make
something
of
ourselves
-‐-‐
that
was
Mrs.
Zelia
N.

155

Nathaniel
Mackey,
“Jazz;
From
Noun
to
Verb”,”
O’
Meally,
Robert
G
The
Jazz
Cadence
of

American
Culture.
(Columbia
University
Press,
New
York
1998)

Passing Notes in Class
Listening to Pedagogical Improvisations in Jazz History

Adam Bush

98
Breaux,”
said
Ted
Armstrong,
a
member
of
the
first
band
156
.

Armstrong
said
Mrs.
Breaux

begged
second,
third
and
fourth
hand
instruments
from
anyone
in
the
state.
“If
it
would
make
a

sound
she
would
take
it.
We
had
talent
and
Mrs.
Breaux
had
determination
that
we’d
have
the

opportunity
to
develop
and
display
it,
“
Armstrong
said.

The
uniforms
of
that
first
band
were

white
shirts,
white
pants,
dark
tie
and
a
cap
bought
from
Mrs.
Breaux’s
personal
funds.
“We

were
proud
steppers.
We
thought
we
were
looking
good
and
we
knew
we
were
playing
good.

As
a
teacher
of
music
she
was
the
best.”

And
it
wasn’t
long
before
throngs
would
wait
all
day
in
parade
to
see
The
Douglass

Band,
always
at
the
tail
end
of
parades.
“Even
though
we
were
always
put
at
the
tail
end
of

everything.
In
the
parades
we
always
came
behind
the
horses
——
often
we
had
to
dodge
to

keep
from
stepping
in
it
-‐-‐
but
we
were
high
steppers
anyway
and
nobody
left
a
parade
until

they
had
seen
THAT
DOUGLASS
HIGH
SCHOOL
BAND.”

Isaac
Kimbro,
Eugene
Jones
Jr.
and

every
other
alum
willing
to
talk
about
Breaux
described
the
spectacle
of
that
marching
band.

“The
Douglass
High
School
band
was
THE
band
in
OKC…
we
outplayed
any
white
band
in
the

city.”
157

Robert
C.
Watson
continued
on,
telling
of
a
member
of
Douglass
faculty
asking
a
school

board
member
why
Douglass’
band
was
always
last.
“Well,
Mrs.
Breaux,
if
we
put
your
band
up

156

Members
of
that
first
band
were
Edwards
Christian,
R.
E.
Wilkenson,
Roscoe
Wilson,
John

Brown
as
drum
major,
Henry
P.
Butler,
John
L.
Smith,
Roosevelt
Fleming,
Wyatt
H.
Slaughter
r,

Lem
C.
Johnson,
Frank
Mead,
Robert
Graham,
Ted
Louis
Armstrong,
Harold
Cannori;
Lawrence

“Inky
Williams
(who
later
played
with
the
Blue
Devils
orchestra),
Alphonso
North,
Foster

ghomasson,
Lloyd
Lampkin,
Guy
Young,
Leon
“Kinky”
Dillard,
Floyd
F.
Alexander,
Malcolm

Whitby
and
Lawrence
“Spot”
Davis.
157

Isaac
Kimbro.
Interview
with
the
author,
Oklahoma
City,
Oklahoma
February
27,
2004

Passing Notes in Class
Listening to Pedagogical Improvisations in Jazz History

Adam Bush

99
early
in
the
parade,
then
nobody
would
stay
to
see
the
end
because
they
had
already
seen
the

best.”

He
continued:

Back
in
the
‘30’s
the
University
of
Oklahoma
I
would
say
would
have
a
couple
of

hundred,
150
or
200
in
the
college
band
and
they
was
in
a
lot
of
parades
downtown

and,
ah.
They
would
get
on
the
sideline
and
wait
to
see
us
go
by.
Now
I
don’t
know
the

magic
of
that
band,
the
musicians
and
they
played
so
you
can
hear,
ah.
I
was
in
a

meeting
one
time.
I’ll
tell
you
who
was
there
the
superintendent
of
schools,
the

president
of
the
Board
of
Education,
the
principal
Miss
Breaux
was
there
and,
ah,
one
or

two
city
councilmen,
the
mayor.
What
was
happening
was
Black
people
was

complaining
about
Douglas
High
School
always
being
the
last
band.
Now
I
noticed
two

or
three
times
they
put
us
up
front.
But
they
stopped,
they
put
us
in
the
last
band
again

and
they
were
complaining.
Of
course
they
would
have
horses
in
the
parade,
the

country
band,
there’s
horse
manure.
Now
they
had
all
this
kind
of
stuff.
They
were

complaining.
Now
here’s
what
the
mayor
and
there
was
somebody
else
I
can’t

remember
exactly.
They
said
we
tried
putting
you
all
up
in
front
and
that’s
true
they
did.

But
he
said
if
we
put
you
all
up
front
when
you
pass
through
say
most
of
the
people

leave.
Say
but
if
we
leave
you
on
the
rear
she
said
everybody
says
to
see
the
parade

‘cause
the
Douglas
Band
was
it!

Now
we
had
45,
50
people.
Now
we
never
had
over..

and
most
of
the
time
we’d
have
two
or
three
tubas.
University
of
Oklahoma
would
have

10
or
15
tubas.
Do
you
know
that
those
three
or
four
tuba
players
that
we
had
‘could

play
at
the
same
volume
that
those.
I
don’t
know
why,
I
don’t
know.
But
any
how
the

University
of
Oklahoma
they
would
wait
till
our
band
went
through.
‘Cause
we
had
a

certain
tempo
and
we
didn’t
clown,
didn’t
shake
like
these
bands
and
all
that
kind
of

stuff.

Passing Notes in Class
Listening to Pedagogical Improvisations in Jazz History

Adam Bush

100
The
band’s
reputation
soon
grew
outside
of
Oklahoma
City
158

as
Breaux
began
to
travel

with
her
marching
band
to
national
festivals.

Three
trips
in
the
1930’s
were
especially
notable

to
her
alumni:
the
National
Elks
meeting
Denver,
Colorado
in
1931,
the
World’s
Fair
in
Chicago,

111
in
1936
and
the
Texas
Centennial
in
Dallas
in
1936.
But,
importantly,
these
were
not
extra-‐
curricular
activities
for
her
student
body.

As
a
Dean
of
Music
Education,
Breaux
could
establish

school
policy
for
the
district.

So
she
made
travel
credit-‐
bearing.

As
Breaux
recommended
in

her
thesis
for
proper
instruction,
“We
have
undertaken
to
give
a
few
general
recommendations

that
will
help
in
the
development
of
instrumental
music
in
our
schools—the
following
are

specific:

Secondary
Schools:

1. Full
time
Instrumental
instructors
who
have
had
special
training
for
this
type

of
work

2. Organization
of
regular
instrumental
classes,
separate
and
distinct
from
band

and
orchestra
organizations
as
a
whole

3. Instrumental
classes
to
be
curricular
rather
than
extra-‐curricular
and
credit
be

given
for
same

4. That
credit
be
given
for
band
and
orchestra
work

5. Where
possible,
band
and
orchestra
be
circularized

6. More
attention
be
given
to
ensembles.

7. An
effort
should
be
made
to
have
instrumental
work
start
in
Elementary

school,
carried
to
Junior
high,
then
on
to
Senior
high

158

Leon
“Tack”
Nelson:
“During
the
late
1930s
I
played
the
horn
at
Don
lass
High
School
under

Mrs.
Zelia
N.
Breaux.
.
.
My
basic
background
from
Oklahoma
was
so
advanced
when
I
went
to

school
on
the
west
coast
I
was
well
ahead
of
my
classmates.
I
decided
I
didn’t
want
to
teach

because
that
was
all
blacks
were
doing
at
that
time
and
the
pay
was
not
good.
I
was
making

more
playing
the
horn
on
the
side
time
and
the
pay
was
not
good.
I
was
making
more
playing

the
horn
on
the
side
time
what
the
teachers
were
making.”

"Nelson
played
with
such
greats
as

“T~Bone”
Walker,
Jimmy
Weatherspoon,
“PeeWee”
Crayton,
The
Kit
Ora
Creo
Dixieland
Band,

Edgar
Hayes,
Bennie
Carter,
Charles
Davis
and
Scatrnan
Caruthers.
In
high
school,
Nelson
said

he
played
at
the
Kentucky
Club
and
would
make
between
$35
and
$50
in
tips.
In
1950,
Nelson

moved
back
to
Oklahoma
City
and
played
in
most
the
clubs
around.
“I
also
had
the
first

interracial
band
in
Oklahoma
City
and
became
the
first
black
to
play
with
a
white
ban.”

Passing Notes in Class
Listening to Pedagogical Improvisations in Jazz History

Adam Bush

101
8. Where
junior
and
senior
high
pupils
attend
same
school,
organize
a
Junior

band,
separate
and
distinct
from
the
Senior
Band

9. More
Public
performances

We
are
hoping
that
it
will
be
possible
for
those
recommendations
to
be
observed.

If
they
are,

in
the
next
five
years
or
perhaps
sooner,
and
in
light
of
the
rapid
progress
which
has
been

made,
negro
instrumental
music
will
be
on
the
same
level
with
Negro
vocal
music
in
our

Secondary
Schools
and
colleges.
159

Most
revolutionary
perhaps
above
is
the
1930s
curricular
change
Breaux
recommends
for
the

music
instruction
to
be
a
credit
bearing
activity,
much
as
it
would
have
been
in
a
vocational

school
like
Birmingham’s
Parker
High
School.

Ms.
Breaux
was
one
of
the
original
planners
of
the
state
band
festival
which
saw
its

debut
in
1937
with
other
band
directors
around
the
state
like
George
L.
“Buck”
Buford
of
Ponca

City,
C.
L.
Word
of
Shawnee,
Larnie
Webb
of
Wewoka,
Clarence
Fields
then
of
Sand
Springs
and

G.
P.
Benjamin
of
Langston
University.
By
the
third
year,
Oklahoma
City
music
lovers
saw
12

bands
from
the
Sooner
State
and
two
from
Arkansas
making
a
total
of
520
musicians
in
a
two-‐
day
show.
Bands
came
from
Ponca
City,
Ardmore,
El
Reno,
Lawton,
Oklahoma
City,
Sand

Springs,
Wewoka,
Shawnee,
Muskogee,
Langston
University,
Luther
and
from‘
Crossett,
and

Fort
Smith,
Ark.

There
would
be
a
break
for
WWII
in
1943
from
a
shortage
of
band
directors,

and
the
band
festivals
would
resume
in
1947
with
Enid
as
the
host
city
and
school.

Zelia
Breaux
had
moved
to
Oklahoma
City
when
her
father,
Inman
Page
left
Lincoln

University
to
take
over
as
superintendent
for
the
Oklahoma
City
public
school
system.

Breaux,

only
23
at
the
time,
took
the
reins
as
the
founding
director
of
music
for
the
school
system.

159

Zelia
Breaux
“The
Development
of
Instrumental
Music
in
Negro
Secondary
Schools
and

Colleges:
A
Thesis”
Northwestern
University,
1939.
82

Passing Notes in Class
Listening to Pedagogical Improvisations in Jazz History

Adam Bush

102
Previously,
she
had
started
the
music
department
in
Langston
University
in
1899
shortly
after

she
came
to
then
Oklahoma
Territory
with
her
father
Inman
Page
as
the
first
president
of
the

Colored
Agricultural
and
Normal
Institute,
She
was
just
16
years
old
at
the
time
she
founded

Langston’s
music
department
where
she
resided
for
17
years
building
up
a
noted
territorial

band
and
orchestra.

She
came
the
Oklahoma
City
public
school
system
in
1918
and
within
the

year
had
purchased
the
Aldridge
Theater
in
the
heart
of
the
Deep
Deuce
neighborhood
of

Oklahoma
City.

Taking
that
aesthetic
of
travel
and
that
‘sensibility
of
the
road,’
and
looking
at
music

communities
‘in
place’
makes
us
ask,
along
with
anthropologist
James
Clifford,
“why,
with
what

degrees
of
freedom,
do
people
stay
home?

[Their]
conscious
choice
not
to
travel…
may
be
a

form
of
resistance,
not
limitation,
a
particular
worldliness
rather
than
a
narrow
localism,”
160

even
an
embrace
of
their
community
organizations—the
schools,
teachers,
juke
joints,

ballrooms,
parks,
and
symphonies.
161

160

James
Clifford.
Routes:
Travel
and
Translation
in
the
Late
Twentieth
Century.
(Cambridge,

Mass.:
Harvard
University
Press,
1997),
5.

161

In
examining
the
critical
discourse
(such
as
in
Ronald
Michael
Radano,.
Lying
up
a
Nation:

Race
and
Black
Music.
Chicago:
University
of
Chicago
Press,
2003.),
it
also
becomes
important

to
look
at
music
traveling
through
conversations
between
white
critics
in
New
York
(seen
as
the

end
of
any
musical
migration)
and
black
musicians
is
another
discourse
emerges.

It
becomes

important
to
see
who
is
telling
the
story
of
jazz
and
who
is
defining
the
territory.

The

“territory”
in
territory
bands,
therefore,
comes
to
describe,
not
just
performance
and
practice

techniques
(what’s
Kansas
Cit-‐ian
about
Kansas
City),
but
also
about
the
relationship
between

territories
(Kansas
City
in
New
York
or
elsewhere
is
what
defines
Kansas
City
as
such).

John

Gennari
and
Scott
DeVeaux’s
work
has
also
be
deeply
influential
in
guiding
jazz
historiography

in
the
past
two
decades
and
in
properly
challenging
a
linear
history
made
out
of
stories
of

virtuosity
and
performance.

Passing Notes in Class
Listening to Pedagogical Improvisations in Jazz History

Adam Bush

103
Adam
Bush:
You
raised
your
son
here
in
Tulsa?

Bernice
Fields:
Well,
Ernie
always,
always
loved
Oklahoma.

We
stayed
here
so
he
could

play
that
music
and
be
[here]
as
a
family...

you
know
he’d
play
here
too?

And
he

taught
for
years
and
would
go
into
the
high
schools
to
tell
stories…

So
that
he
could

come
home
here
after
being
on
the
road…
Our
son
found
a
career
in
Los
Angeles,
but

we
found
a
home
in
Tulsa.
162

In
addition
to
her
husband
and
son,
Bernice,
too,
was
a
renowned
educator
in
Tulsa,

Oklahoma.

This
analysis
of
a
‘verb-‐ing’
of
music
can
be
seen
in
musicologist
Christopher
Small’s

designation
of
“music(king);”
Small’s
language
for
writing
about
music
as
an
ac
of
socialization

"a
way
in
which
we
explore,
affirm
and
celebrate
our
concepts
of
ideal
relationships
…
in
ways

that
talking
or
reading
can
never
allow
us
to
do."
163

For
Small,
and
for
this
examination
of
jazz

history,
music
is
composition,
performance,
as
well
as
consumption—one
that
included
the

audience
the
architecture,
the
communities
of
practice
and
music
making.

Music,
here,
is
the

activity,
rather
than
the
reified
object
(as
LP
or
written
notation).
Christopher
Small
notes

“music
is
not
a
thing
at
all
but
an
activity,
something
that
people
do.

That
apparent
thing

‘music’
is
a
figment,
an
abstraction
of
the
action,
whose
reality
vanishes
as
soon
as
we
examine

it
at
all
closely.”
164

162

Bernice
Fields.
Interview
with
the
author,
Oklahoma
City,
Oklahoma
February
17,
2004

163

Ben
Ratliff.
"Christopher
Small,
84,
Cultural
Musicologist."
New
York
Times,
September
10,

2011,
B19
sec.

164

Too
often,
scholars
have
tended
to
regard
black
musical
cultures
either
as
discursive

formations
or
as
ensembles
of
texts.

Consequently,
music
has
most
often
been
looked
at
as
a

set
of
signifying
practices
that
is
intricately
and
directly
linked
to
past
and
present
socio-‐political

realities.
As
such,
music(king)
figures
as
a
site
for
the
generation,
manipulation,
and
negotiation

Passing Notes in Class
Listening to Pedagogical Improvisations in Jazz History

Adam Bush

104
Breaux’s
‘music-‐king,’
her
“pedagogical
improvisations,”
centered
on
these
ideas
of

mobility.

She
increased
the
visibility
of
the
Douglass
High
School
Band
in
parades
around

Oklahoma
City
as
well
as
nationwide
traveling,
as
Watson
recounted.

Breaux
brought

musicians
to
Oklahoma
City
and
supported
local
musicians
by
increasing
performance

opportunities;
one
of
the
rumored
sites
for
Charlie
Christian’s
discovery
was
at
the
Mrs.

Breaux’s
Aldridge
Theatre
in
1937
when
a
talent
scout
noticed
his
playing
165
.

This
chapter
looks

at
the
“sensibility
of
the
road”
as
something
imbued
within
Breaux’s
pedagogical
improvisations

as
well
as
the
actual
experiences
of
travel
she
opened
up
for
her
student
body.

Breaux

nurtured
and
developed
relationships
with
colleges
and
universities
nationwide
to
open
up

scholarship
opportunities
for
her
graduates.

As
Breaux
wrote
in
her
1939
thesis,

Negro
colleges
and
universities
can
thank
the
public
schools
for
their
musical

organizations.

It
was
not
until
the
children
learned
how
to
play
in
the
secondary
schools

that
institutions
of
higher
learning
found
themselves
supplied
with
sufficient
numbers
of

qualified
players
to
achieve
their
present
day
power
in
bands
and
orchestras.

Because

of
this
advancement,
Boards
of
Education
are
supplying
full
time
instructors
in
many

of
meanings
which
can
read
by
audiences.

Without
a
doubt,
such
a
historically
informed

textual
perspective
enables
a
profound
engagement
with
black
Atlantic
music(king)
on
several

levels:
its
makes
explicit
its
connections
to
particular
histories,
communities
and
socio-‐political

conditions,
it
discusses
it
as
a
form
of
expression
of
black
creativity
and
pleasure,
and
it

contextualizes
it
as
an
oppositional
language
for
political
protest.

(Small,
Christopher.

Musicking
the
Meanings
of
Performing
and
Listening.
Hanover:
University
Press
of
New

England,
1998.2)

165

Its
also
said
that
Charlie
Christian
made
his
first
guitar
from
a
cigar
box
in
the
Douglass

school
workshop.
Ralph
Ellison
said
he
couldn’t
remember
when
Christian
“was
not
admired
for

his
skillful
playing
of
stringed
instruments,
When
Charles
Christian
would
amaze
us
at
school

with
his
first
guitar
he
would
be
playing
his
own
riffs,
but
there
were
based
on
sophisticated

chords
and
progressions
that
Blind
Lemon
Jefferson
never
knew.
No
other
cigar
box
ever
made

such
sounds.”

Ralph
Ellison,
"The
Charlie
Christian
Story."
The
Saturday
Review,
May
17,
1958,

42-‐43.

Passing Notes in Class
Listening to Pedagogical Improvisations in Jazz History

Adam Bush

105
places,
but
still
a
large
percent
teach
something
besides
music
in
addition
to
the
music

schedule.
166

Breaux’s
story
concerns
itself
with
the
crashing
and
smashing
and
collaboration
in
these

movements
and
spaces
that
produce
new
music.

Even
while
talking
about
place,
we
ground

that
here
within,
as
Herman
Gray
writes,
a
“sensibility
of
the
road”
167
—one
that
maintains
the

music’s
“experience
of
traveling
between
communities
and
creating
places
of
interaction.
168

Jazz’s
emergence
into
popular
culture
alongside
the
growth
of
the
recording
industry
signaled
a

new
boundlessness
to
the
paths
through
which
black
music
could
travel.

On
the
road
musicians

hone
their
sound
and
construct
communities
that
exist
beyond
the
immediate
confines
of
the

territory
they
left
or
where
they
are
headed.

The
road,
in
this
sense,
is
not
void
of
identity;
169

the
road
is
where
a
new
identity
is
formed
as
a
place
for
constant
change
and
innovation.

The
LP
allowed
music
to
migrate
outside
the
physical
limitations
of
the
musician,
the

bandstand,
and
the
city,
to
wherever
sound
and
technology
could
reach.

Beyond
looking
at

these
physical
forms
of
jazz
music
migration
and
territory—it
is
also
interesting
to
look
at
new

166

Zelia
Breaux
“The
Development
of
Instrumental
Music
in
Negro
Secondary
Schools
and

Colleges:
A
Thesis”
Northwestern
University,
1939.
Chapter
IV
Evaluations
of
this
Type
of

Training
and
Recommendations.

This
point,
of
course,
echoes
John
Whatley’s
own
history
in

Birmingham
when
he
was
hired
to
run
the
print
shop
but,
listening
to
the
needs
of
his
student

body,
also
created
the
Industrial
(ne:
Parker)
High
School
bands.

167

Herman
Gray.
Cultural
Moves
African
Americans
and
the
Politics
of
Representation.
Berkeley:

University
of
California
Press,
2005.
47.

168

Similar
to
how
Paul
Gilroy
turns
to
music
in
The
Black
Atlantic
as
a
tool
to
de-‐center
the
Afro-‐
focused
narrative
of
black
migration,
he
embraces
a
discussion
of
blackness
that
highlights
the

processes
of
communication
and
movement
as
assertions
of
black
creativity.

It
is
diaspora
that

becomes
the
focus
for
Gilroy’s
unpacking
of
blackness
and,
in
doing
so,
travel,
itself,
becomes
a

physical
space
for
creation.

169

removed
from
the
indigenous
land
and
culture,
and
not-‐yet
“American”
Spillers
writes,

Hortense
J.
Spillers.
Black,
White,
and
in
Color:
Essays
on
American
Literature
and
Culture.

(Chicago:
University
of
Chicago
Press,
2003)

Passing Notes in Class
Listening to Pedagogical Improvisations in Jazz History

Adam Bush

106
ways
to
think
of
music’s
travels.

The
evolution
of
the
phonograph
170

greatly
changes
the

traditional
New
Orleans
to
Chicago
to
New
York
traditional
view
of
jazz’s
urban
migration,

forcing
detours
to
the
Iowa
of
Bix
Beiderbecke
and
west
to
other
locales
where
the
music

couldn’t
travel
before
being
“captured.”

And
jazz
history
is
told
predominantly
as
this
story
of
the
road.

Frequently
begun
in

New
Orleans,
where
African
rhythms
turn
into
African
American
ragtime
music,
these
new

sounds
travel
up
the
Mississippi
River
to
Chicago
where,
inflected
with
a
Northern
urban

sensibility,
they
develop
into
‘hot’
music,
and
eventually
migrate
to
New
York
where
they

become
music
of
experimentation
and
integration.
This
is
the
Ken
Burns
celebration
of
the

migration
of
the
music
as
it
becomes
progressively
more
urban,
more
modern,
more

democratic,
and
more
American.

This
teleology
is
a
little
too
neat.
By
looking
at
black
music
not

simply
as
a
story
of
‘traveling
to”
or
“traveling
from,”
but
as
a
story
of
staying-‐-‐
as
a
record
of

the
history
of
the
community
who
stays—a
new
cartography
of
black
music
emerges.

The
start
of
school-‐based
education
in
Oklahoma
City
actually
started
in
1890
with

private
schools
run
out
of
private
homes
and
churches
with
borrowed
desks
and
chairs.

But

what
is
now
the
Oklahoma
City
Public
school
system
had
its
start
on
January
5,
1891
when

Board
of
Education
consisting
of
W.
H.
Thacker,
D.D.
Leach,
J.L.
Van
Dewerker,
G.W.
Pence
and

Dr.
Delos
Walker
elected
R.
A.
Sullens
as
its
first
superintendent.

Thus
it
was
upon
Jefferson

Davis
Randolph
to
find
a
suitable
building
to
educate
the
growing
population
of
“Colored”

170

Paul
Gilroy,.
'There
Ain't
No
Black
in
the
Union
Jack':
The
Cultural
Politics
of
Race
and
Nation.

(Chicago,
Ill.:
University
of
Chicago
Press,
1991)

Mark
Katz,.
Capturing
Sound:
How
Technology
Has
Changed
Music.
(Berkeley:
University
of

California
Press,
2004)

Passing Notes in Class
Listening to Pedagogical Improvisations in Jazz History

Adam Bush

107
school
age
children
in
growing
Oklahoma
City,
OK.

Randolph
found
an
abandoned
two-‐room

shed
at
the
back
of
a
wagon
yard
at
the
southwest
corner
of
Reno
and
Harvey
for
which
the

school
board
paid
D.
I.
Spencer
$15.00
for
rent
for
the
colored
school.

Randolph
remembered

his
first
days:
“I
taught
one
week
by
myself
then
they
employed
an
assistant,
L.
S.
Wilson
and

we
two
held
sessions
for
the
kids
for
the
first
year.”

The
session
the
first
year
consisted
of
a

four-‐month
term
in
which
Randolph
drew
the
sum
of
$60.00
per
month
while
Wilson
drew

$50.00
per
month.
There
were
18
students
in
that
first
session.

In
the
same
year
that
Douglass
High
School
brought
aboard
a
new
principal,

Youngblood’s
naming
as
principal
was
overshadowed
in
The
Black
Dispatch
article
of
that
by
a

music
teacher
——
Mrs.
Zelia
N.
Page
Breaux,
who
at
the
age
of
15
had
started
the
music

department
at
Langston
under
her
father
Inman
Edward
Page
and
had
stayed
there
until
1918.

She
had
purchased
controlling
interest
in
the
Aldridge
Theatre
by
sometime
around
1915
and

with
her
husband,
wealthy
farmer
Armegeon
Breaux,
moved
to
Oklahoma
City.

Though
Youngblood
had
high
recommendations
it
was
Mrs.
Breaux,
who
in
the
next
30

years
in
the
Oklahoma
City
Separate
School
system,
would
leave
a
non—erasable
mark
in
the

music
field
in
Oklahoma
City,
the
state
Oklahoma
and
the
nation.

Though
music
had
been

taught
in
the
Separate
Schools
since
I.
H.
A.
Brazelton’s
tenure,
which
ended
in
1915,
nothing

compared
to
what
happened
in
the
music
field
after
Mrs.
Breaux
took
over
at
Douglass.

After
her
mandatory
retirement
in
1948,
Breaux
formed
The
Community
Band,
with

Robert
C.
Watson,
as
drum
major.
The
Community
Band
would
play
Sunday
afternoon
concerts

in
Washington
Park,
the
then
Oklahoma
City
Indians
baseball
teams
and
other
sporting
events

Passing Notes in Class
Listening to Pedagogical Improvisations in Jazz History

Adam Bush

108
in
and
around
the
state
of
Oklahoma,
paraded
through
the
streets
of
Oklahoma
City
and
many

other
engagements
until
her
death
in
1956.

Watson
and
other
alumni
of
Douglass
High
School

marched
with
her
casket
while
Duke
Ellington
and
other
local
and
national
luminaries
paid
their

respects.

Passing Notes in Class
Listening to Pedagogical Improvisations in Jazz History

Adam Bush

109

The
Relationships
of

Chicago’s
Captain
Walter
Henri
Dyett

To
acknowledge
Dyett's
enormous
achievement,
three
Dyett-‐DuSable
alums
will
converge
next

Tuesday
evening
to
play
a
most
unusual
concert
at
the
school,
at
49th
Street
and
Wabash

Avenue.
Chicago
saxophonists
Mwata
Bowden
and
Edwin
Daugherty
and
trombonist
T.S.

Galloway,
who's
based
in
Holland,
will
premiere
original
works
inspired
by
the
aphorisms
that

Dyett
famously
dispensed
to
his
students.

Anyone
who
studied
with
Dyett
–
or
talked
to
those
who
did
–
will
recognize
some
of
his

worldly-‐wise
sayings:
"If
you
think
you
can,
you
can."
"You
can
be
the
best,
if
you
want
to
be

the
best."
"You
have
to
more
than
want
to
do
it
–
you
have
to
will
yourself
to
do
it."

Some
of
the
new
pieces
will
carry
these
phrases
as
titles,
but
all
of
the
Dyett
proclamations

clearly
conveyed
a
single,
underlying
message:
Anything
is
possible
if
you
believe
–
and
work

like
crazy.

"It
was
a
whole
mind-‐over-‐matter
concept
that
he
was
putting
on
us,"
recalls

Bowden,
who
graduated
from
DuSable
in
1966
and
today
stands
among
Chicago's
most

accomplished
jazz
musicians.

"Everyone
who
came
from
Cap
can
tell
you
something
that
he

said
to
them
and,
over
a
period
of
time,
he
said
it
again
and
again
and
again.
And
all
of
those

things
provided
some
guidance
and
approach
for
everything
you
had
to
face
in
life.

"You

couldn't
use
the
word
'can't'
in
the
band
room.
He
would
blow
up.
…
He
wouldn't
allow
you
to

get
away
with
that."

Of
course,
there
was
much
more
to
Dyett's
success
as
teacher
than
just
his
words
of
wisdom.

He
also
drove
his
kids
hard
and
was
feared
as
much
as
he
was
revered.
171

The
2013
Dyett
Tribute
Performance
composed
by
T.S.
Galloway,
included
songs
like

“He
Can
Who
Thinks
He
Can”
and
“Know
Thyself”—aphorisms
Dyett
was
known
for
instilling
in

his
student
body.

"A
lot
of
people
don't
know
it,
but
(Dyett)
was
a
student
of
metaphysics.
He

believed
in
the
power
of
the
mind.
That
was
a
part
of
the
education
in
the
band.
Every
day
in

the
band
room,
you'd
have
these
sayings
on
the
wall
to
give
us
positive
thoughts.
He
was
a

171

Howard
Reich.
"Saluting
Capt.
Walter
Dyett,
Who
Made
Stars
at
DuSable."
The
Chicago

Tribune,
August
21,
2013.

Passing Notes in Class
Listening to Pedagogical Improvisations in Jazz History

Adam Bush

110
visionary
and
positive
person,
but
he
was
very
strict.

He
didn't
take
no
crap.
Dyett
"was

concerned
about
your
development.
He
demanded
excellence.
You
couldn't
be
late.
If
you

weren't
dressed
properly,
he'd
send
you
home.
He
demanded
that
you
be
the
best."
172

Years
earlier,
in
1942,
after
teaching
music
at
Wendell
Phillips
and
DuSable
High
School

in
Chicago
for
a
decade,
Dyett
submitted
his
Masters
Thesis
to
the
faculty
of
the
Chicago
Music

College
entitled
“Development
of
Rhythm
Mastery.”

In
it,
Dyett
argues
that
teaching
rhythmic

response
even
to
a
“racial
group
that
is
commonly
considered
to
be
by
nature
very
rhythmic
in

feeling
and
execution”
is
as
much
about
commitment
and
student
investment
as
it
is
talent
and

instruction
173
.

This
echoes
readings
like
Napoleon
Hill’s
1937
Think
and
Grow
Rich,
which
Dyett

would
pass
out
to
his
favorite
students
and
his
commonly
shared
daily
affirmation
on
the

chalkboard;
“He
Can
Who
Thinks
He
Can”
and

“PMA:
Positive
Mental
Attitude.”

For
Dyett,

personal
growth
and
musical
development
were
deeply
intertwined.

As
he
wrote
in
his
thesis,

in
the
chapter
entitled
“True
Music
Education;”

In
any
work,
it
is
first
necessary
for
us
to
know
ourselves.

The
better
we
become

acquainted
with
our
own
shortcomings
by
the
constant
cooperation
of
what
we
do
with

what
we
wish
to
do,
or
should
be
doing,
the
more
able
we
are
to
see
the
difficulties
and

their
penetrating
causes
in
the
work
of
our
students.

We
are
more
sympathetic
and

understanding.

The
old
adage,
“Know
Thyself”
is
a
prime
essential
for
good
teaching
or

good
living.
174

172

Howard
Reich,
“Saxophonist
Jimmy
Ellis
swings
back
into
action.”
Chicago
Tribune,
March

13,
2014

173

Dyett’s
thesis
attempts
to
answer
the
question
he
begins
his
first
page
with,
“Why
are
there

so
many
students
entering
the
high
schools
with
practically
no
knowledge
of
even
the
simple

rudiments
of
music?”

174

Walter
Henri
Dyett.
True
Music
Education
Vandercook
University
M.A.
Thesis
page
62

Passing Notes in Class
Listening to Pedagogical Improvisations in Jazz History

Adam Bush

111
“Knowing
oneself”
was
key
to
Dyett’s
teaching.

He
insisted
on
accountability
and
promptness,

but
he
did
so
in
a
move
to
encourage
personal
development
and
growth
in
his
students
as

young
musicians.

Leroy
Jenkins:
Nothing
could
phase
me
after
Captain
Dyett.
He’d
throw
his
baton
at
me

and
he
kicked
me
out
of
the
band
at
least
2
or
3
times.
He
kicked
me
out
of
the
band
my

senior
year.
I
couldn’t
even
take
a
picture
with
the
band
for
the
yearbook.
He
put
me

out,
treated
me
really
bad.
And
finally
I
had
to
get
my
mother
to
come
up.
He
changed,

he
was
a
complete
gentleman.
He
charmed
my
mother
and
turned
her
against
me.
She

was
talking
about
how
nice
he
was
to
her
girlfriends.
He
was
good,
I
must
say.

Adam
Bush:
it
was
a
whole
mask
in
a
way.

LJ:
Oh
yeah.
Now,
What
did
I
do
to
get
thrown
out?
I
don’t
remember….
I
think,
it
was

he
expected
more
out
of
me
since
I’d
been
playing
for
so
long.
So
if
had
done
anything

less,
he’d
kick
me
out.
And
I
was
playing
bassoon
and
it
was
a
vital
part
and
I
knew
he

couldn’t
do
it
without
me,
and
I
kinda
played
on
that.
But
this
time
I
stayed
out
a
while,

because
there
were
no
concerts
coming
up.
And
I
was
getting
ready
to
graduate
so
he

had
the
upper
hand.
Other
times
he’d
kick
me
out
and
I’d
come
back
the
next
day.
You

show
up
early
the
next
day
and
ask
If
you
could
come
back….
But
this
time
I
was
out
for

about
a
week.

AB:
what
was
the
goal
of
captain
Dyett’s
music
program?
Was
it
to
get
students
ready
to

have
a
job?
Was
it
to
have
an
arts
program
in
the
school?

LJ:
I
think
it
was
trying
to
get
guys
jobs.
That’s
what
his
generation
was
about.
When
I

read
,the
jazz
musicians
of
old
were
a
great
people,
bringing
each
other
in,
they
saw

talent,
they’d
bring
it
in.
He
was
from
that
old
school,
training
future
musicians.
If
you

Passing Notes in Class
Listening to Pedagogical Improvisations in Jazz History

Adam Bush

112
were
talented
he’d
latch
on
to
you.
And
I
think
he’d
latch
on
to
you
in
different
levels.

During
my
time
there
was
Richard
Davis
was
going
to
school
so
he
was
the
star…Davis

this
and
Richard
Davis
that,
he’d
always
use
Richard
Davis
to
pin
us
down.

AB:
while
Dyett
was
training
people
to
be
musicians,
he
used
to
say
he
didn’t
care
if

students
never
picked
up
a
musical
instrument
after
high
school.
He
was
teaching
them

life
lessons.
Can
you
speak
on
what
that
meant
and
how
he
might
have
affected

people/impacted
people
in
whatever
they
became.

LJ:
Actually
I
was
thinking,
I
remember
why
cap
put
me
out
senior
year
for
a
week.
Like
I

said,
drugs
were
heavy
in
the
neighborhood,
and
I
was
on
them,
and
he
knew
it.
He
had

recommended
me
to
get
a
scholarship
(for
a
and
m?)
and
then
I
was
graduating
and
all

that
kind
of
stuff.
So
like
I
said,
I
was
out
for
a
week
and
we
were
preparing
the
concert

for
the
graduation.
That
was
always
a
great
night
to
play.
And
I
didn’t
even
rehearse
for

that.
We’d
always
play
something
heavy.
I
think
he
was
trying
to
tell
me,
that
if
you
do

drugs
you
aren’t
going
to
be
able
to
work.
He’d
label
you.
He’d
call
you
‘under
the
L

boys”
or
“weed-‐head”.
And
he
used
to
call,
you
never
heard
of
Kall
Byrons,
he
had
aids.

He
died,
he
did
heroin
and
used
dirty
needles.
He
used
to
be
a
very
talkative
fellow,
but

now
he’d
just
sit
in,
like
a
ghost.
After
he’d
leave
Cap’
would
say
something,
not
that
he

knew
it
was
aids,
they
didn’t
know
what
aids
was
at
that
time.
But
he’d
show
him
as

example…If
some
top
musician
was
in
town
they’d
come
up
and
talk
to
us.
His
favorite

was,
some
local
band
of
saxophone
players
around
Chicago.

But
also
connected
to
personal
development
for
Dyett
was
a
deep
commitment,
too,
to

community
involvement.

Music
was
relational
work,
between
students
in
the
classroom,
yes,

but
equally
to
the
relationships
they
and
their
teacher
would
nurture
outside
the
classroom.

Music
making
was
an
inclusive
act
that
brought
students,
families,
and
professional
musicians

Passing Notes in Class
Listening to Pedagogical Improvisations in Jazz History

Adam Bush

113
together
where
the
audience
was
brought
into
the
music-‐making
process
and
the
musicians

into
the
listening
process
175
.

Dyett’s
thesis
vacillates
between
a
focus
of
the
bodily
process
of

music
making
within
each
student
and
the
collective
energy
between
multiple
musicians.

Borrowing
from
John
Dewey,
Dyett
quotes,
“nothing
is
perceived
except
when
different
senses

work
in
relation
to
one
another
and
unless
these
various
sensory-‐motor
energies
are

coordinated
with
one
another
there
is
no
perceived
scene
or
object.”

To
foster
those
relationships
between
his
students
Dyett
built
on
the
discipline
and

memorization
of
John
Whatley
to
emphasize
that
“development
will
be
faster
and,
to
the

student,
less
painful
because
the
work
will
tend
to
take
on
more
or
less
the
nature
of
play.

The

significant
facts
that
are
now
used
and
often
hammered
in
and
drilled
on
so
formally
much
to

the
disgust
of
many
students
will
become
meaningful
and
the
student
will
realize
a
need
for

this
fundamental
work
in
his
life
and
in
his
work.

He
will
therefor
make
it
his
interest
to

develop
the
fundamental
skills
until
they
are
part
and
parcel
of
his
education.”

Success
after
graduation
for
these
high
school
musicians
was
intimately
tied
to
the

experiences
of
professionalization
their
teachers
created
for
them
within
the
high
school

experience.

When
Captain
Dyett
took
over
the
Wendell
Phillips
music
program
in
1932
(as
N.C.

Smith’s
successor),
he
did
so
coming
from
a
career
where
he
was
unable
to
support
himself
as
a

musician
in
the
age
of
talking
pictures.

Like
Smith,
Whatley,
and
Breaux,
Dyett
was
a

taskmaster
known
for
his
swearing
tantrums
and
his
quickness
to
hit
students
and
throw
his

175

Relations
and
Relationships
are
not
really
the
right
words
for
this
facet
of
Dyett’s
work.

Personal
Growth
and
Development
seems
more
appropriate—but
it’s
through
helping
students

develop
a
relationship
with
themselves
as
well
as
fellow
musicians
that
Dyett
built
his
practice.

Passing Notes in Class
Listening to Pedagogical Improvisations in Jazz History

Adam Bush

114
baton.

One
of
his
students
described
his
attitude
as
one
that
“demanded
respect,
and
he
got

respect,
from
everybody.”
176

Students
respected,
not
only
him,
but
also
the
musical
traditions

he
was
trying
to
teach.

Dyett
taught
a
course
load
that
included
a
dance
orchestra
meeting

sixth
period
each
day,
played
clubs
with
his
professional
group,
the
DuSable-‐ites…
and
staged
a

yearly
variety
show,
the
Hi-‐Jinks
which
highlighted
the
Booster
Dance
band.
177
”

Dorothy
Donegan:
Captain
Dyett
was
an
excellent
musician
and
a
hard
taskmaster.

He

would
always
say,
"When
you're
right,
you
can
afford
to
keep
quiet."
But
he
also
made

you
very
conscious
of
being
a
good
musician.
He
could
hear
a
mosquito
urinate
on
a

bale
of
cotton.
His
musical
ear
was
that
sensitive.
Sometimes
we
could
make
Captain

Dyett
so
mad,
that
he
would
call
us
all
kinds
of
S.O.B.'s
and
M.F.'s,
and
he
would
say
to

me,
"Hit
it!
It's
a
B-‐flat
chord."
And
I
would
say,
"Oh,
it's
still
a
B-‐flat
chord."
He
would,

retort,
"You've
got
to
hit
that
B-‐flat,
C-‐7th
and
F-‐7th."
And
sometimes
I
would
cuss
back

at
him
and
Dyett
never
liked
it.
He
had
such
a
terrific
ear.
Out
of
a
150
piece
concert

band,
he
could
tell
exactly
which
instrument
had
made
the
mistake,
and
you
would

know
it
because
he
would
stare
at
you
with
that
one
good
eye
and
make
you
feel

smaller
than
a
snail.
On
the
other
hand,
he
had
a
good
band
and
he
always
produced
an

excellent
Hi

Jinks
show
from
the
student
talent
at
DuSable.

Dyett
had
to
use
the

proceeds
from
the
annual
Hi
Jinks
affair
to
buy
instruments
for
the
band
because
the

Board
of
Education
would
never
furnish
instruments
for
the
students.
Dyett
gave
each

member
of
the
booster
orchestra
one
dollar
per
night
for
the
four
nights
that
we
played

the
Hi
Jinks....
178
”

176

Richard
Davis.
Personal
Interview,
Madison,
Wisconsin
July
21,
2004

177

Samuel
G
Freedman,
“The
Jazz
Teacher”
The
Reader
Magazine
August
22,
1980
Vol
9,
No
47,

p.
32

178

Dempsey
J
Travis,.
An
Autobiography
of
Black
Jazz.
(Chicago,
Ill.:
Urban
Research
Institute,

1983)

Passing Notes in Class
Listening to Pedagogical Improvisations in Jazz History

Adam Bush

115

The
annual
Hi-‐Jinks
performance
was
a
highlight
to
ever
musician
who
talks
about

Dyett’s
influence
on
Chicago’s
South
Side
179
.

It
attracted
thousands
of
attendees
over
the

course
of
two
weekends
with
planning
for
the
annual
event
taking
a
majority
of
the
school
year

for
both
students
and
Dyett.

In
each
Red
&
Black
Yearbook
from
1936
through
1953,
more

pages
are
given
over
to
the
Hi-‐Jinks
performance
than
any
other
student
group,
sport,
or

activity.

Hi-‐Jinks
was
a
mainstay
of
each
year
at
DuSable
until
Dyett’s
passing
(though
he

retired
from
DuSable
in
1966,
Hi-‐Jinks
continued
in
his
honor
and
with
him
in
the
audience

through
1969).

Only
in
1953
did
H-‐Jinks
lapse,
with
a
letter
personally
from
Dyett
on
the
front

page
of
the
school’s
newspaper.

DuSable
Dial,
1953

Highlights
on
Hi-‐Jinks

The
1953
edition
of
the
Hi-‐Jinks
has
been
cancelled.

The
following
facts
give
the
real
reason…

all
other
rumors
to
the
contrary.

Since
1932
there
has
been
a
Hi-‐Jinks
each
may.

To
the
producer,
Hi-‐Jinks
means
weeks
days—
evenings—as
well
as
Saturdays
and
Sundays
are
devoted
to
preparation,
rehearsals,
and
last
to

the
performances.

There
is
in
addition
to
the
regular
schedule
of
classes
and
duties
of
the

school
day.
Night
rehearsals
have
been
held
so
that
the
show
preparation
would
not
interfere

with
the
participants’
attendance
and
important
school
work.

Some
work
has
been
done
on
the
1953
show.

Our
new
principal
Mrs.
Evelyn
f
Carlson

approved
the
1952
show.

Then
after
a
careful
check
of
the
financial
details—the
band
fund—it
was
seen
that
this
year

was
the
first
real
opportunity
in
many
years
for
making
another
dream
of
the
producer
come

179

While
Hi-‐Jinks
is
attached
to
the
legacy
of
Dyett
more
than
any
of
the
other
teachers

discussed
here.

Large
school
events
were
central
to
the
music(kng)
of
these
teachers.

Breaux,

for
example,
coordinated
an
annual
“Opus
Celebration”
which
would
be
the
feature
of
the

spring
musical
department
productions.
Started
in
1921
with
“Pochantas.”
Others
included

“Hiawatha’s
Wedding
Feast,”
“Joan
of
the
Nancy
Lee,”
“The
Marriage
of
Nannette,”
Gilbert
and

Sullivan’s
“The
Mikado.”
“Bells
of
Cornville”
and
the
concertized
version
of
“Martha”
were
all

productions
under
Ms.
Breaux
that
attracted
statewide
attention
and
raised
funds
for
the
music

program.

Passing Notes in Class
Listening to Pedagogical Improvisations in Jazz History

Adam Bush

116
true…
to
be
able
to
enjoy
a
real
spring
vacation
fancy
free
to
go
wherever
the
desire
indicate;

also
to
enjoy
a
Springtime
season
without
the
20
year
old
headache
of
show
preparation.

Therefore,
and
again
with
Mrs.
Carlson’s
approval,
the
Hi-‐Jinks
of
1953
was
put
off
until
1954

when
a
show
that
will
top
all
previous
editions
will
be
presented
to
our
faculty,
students,
and

our
large
following
of
friends
and
patrons.

Your
producer
is
known
to
be
one
who
starts
the
true
facts
a
all
times
and
the
above

statements
are
hereby
certified
as
being
the
factual
reasons—and
the
only
true
reason
for
the

change
in
Hi-‐Jinks
schedule
for
1953

Signed
Walter
Henri
Dyett

Producer
of
Hi-‐Jinks

Hi-‐Jinks
was
the
stage
where
Dyett
would
feature
his
students
but
also
introduce
them
to
a

network
of
musicians
and
performers
he
knew
from
throughout
Chicago.

In
1939
Earl
Hines

joined
as
the
guest
artist
and
in
1943,
Nat
Cole
did
too.

This
was
about
creating

professionalizing
experiences
for
his
student
body,
but
it
was
also
about
inspiring
them
as

composers
and
arrangers.

Adam
Bush:
That’s
why
I
think
it’s
so
interesting.
That
when
Captain
Dyett
started
the

booster
band
in
‘43,
and
jazz
wasn’t
supposed
to
be
taught
in
the
high
schools
at
those

times.
Originally
it
was
an
extra
curricular
band
and
eventually
students
got
credit
for
it.

So
what
it
meant
for
him
to
be
able
to
bring
jazz
band
to
the
high
school.
I
was

wondering
if
it
was
his
own
interest
in
the
music,
or
the
students’
interest
and
him
using

it
as
a
tool
to
teach
them
other
things.

Leroy
Jenkins:
I
think
it
was
both
their
interests.
Period.
Dyett
was
concerned
with
real

life.
You
know
about
the
Hijinks
right?
It
was
a
big
time
production,
it
ran
for
a
week.

And
we
were
in
the
pit,
doing
pit
music,
fully
arranged.
The
stuff
that
they
arranged
was

not
for
amateurs.
Captain
Dyett
brought
in
great/top
notch
arrangers
to
work
with
us.

And
we
didn’t
even
realize
till
later
that
we
had
all
this
going
on.
And
he
was
the

Passing Notes in Class
Listening to Pedagogical Improvisations in Jazz History

Adam Bush

117
director.
And
Captain
Dyett
has
a
bald
head,
you
know
that.
And
I
have
a
friend
Billy

with
curly
hair,
one
night
he
played
the
piano
and
one
night
during
rehearsal
he
made
a

mistake
and
Dyett
said.
“goddamn
curly
haired
son
of
a
bitch
you
play
that
part
right!”

and
Billy
said,
“you’re
just
jealous..”
and
I
can
tell
you
Billy
was
done
after
that.

No
one

talked
back
to
cap,
not
In
my
life
I
know.
To
have
the
nerve
to
say
something
back.

AB:
and
the
Hijinks
was
really
professional
right?

LJ:
oh
yeah!
We
had
actresses
and…
It
was
mostly
a
variety
show.
Oh
and
they
were

very
good
singers,
Dorita
Brown
and
Gloria
bell.
Oh
man,
we
had
speakers,
joan
heights,

Hi-‐tower
the
dancer,
ballet
dancer...
it
was
fantastic
stuff.

AB:
it
was
really
providing
vocational
opportunities.
Getting
them
ready
for
the
real

jobs.

LJ:

oh
yeah,
and
Cap’
was
hiring.
When
you
graduated
if
you
were
good
enough,
he

would
hire
you.
He
never
hired
me,
though.
Unfortunately
I
never
got
that
good,
I
guess,

in
his
eyes
to
hire
me.

I
think
maybe
he
hired
on
bassoon
for
some
of
his
summer
job.
I

did
play
bassoon
for
one
of
his
summer
themes,
but
I
never
looked
at
it
as
great
because

it
wasn’t
on
alto
sax.

Lionel
Hampton
hired
saxophonist
Johnny
Griffin,
right
out
of
Dyett’s
high-‐
school
band.
As
Von

Freeman
relayed
to
Howard
Reich
in
the
Chicago
Tribune,
"Hamp
actually
heard
Johnny
playing

alto
saxophone,
but
he
loved
what
he
heard
–
I
was
there
that
day.
So
Johnny
went
out
on
the

Passing Notes in Class
Listening to Pedagogical Improvisations in Jazz History

Adam Bush

118
road
with
Hamp,
playing
tenor.
180
"

Dyett
hired
students,
like
Young,
Griffin,
Dorothy
Donegan,

and
Von
and
George
Freeman
for
outside
gigs,
such
as
ballroom
dances,
church
socials,
and

teas,
where
the
students
became
integrated
at
an
early
age
into
the
professional
world.

He’d

play
with
his
Summer
Band
or
Booster
Band
at
the
47
th

St
Warwick
Hall
(where
he
had
a
Friday

night
gig)
for
neighborhood
teenagers.

Jimmy
Ellis:
He’d
pay
us
a
dollar
or
two
bucks.
That
was
big
bucks.

Adam
Bush:
How
many
were
in
Fess’
ensemble?

LJ:

always
his
wife,
miss
Love,
and
Fess,
and
Lorenzo
he
played
the
violin
and
I
did,
and

sometimes
Ellis
MacDaniel—you
know
him
as
Bo
Diddly.
He
was
one
of
Fess’
students

also.
All
the
time
at
church
we
played
in
the
mornings.
That
place
is
still
there.

While
George
Lewis
pushes
against
John
Szwed's
contention
that
“many
of
the
key

players'
in
the
AACM
were
Dyett
students”
181

he
does
so
based
on
the
fact
that
only
three
of

the
thirty
first-‐wave
AACM
musicians
(Joseph
Jarman,
Henry
Threadgill,
and
Leroy
Jenkins)

studied
directly
under
Dyett.
Lewis
elaborates
saying,
“Jarman
was
active
as
a
percussionist
at

DuSable,
along
with
James
Johnson,
Jarman's
classmate
and
a
post-‐1969
AACM
member
who

played
bassoon.
While
Dyett
was
impressed
with
the
young
Jenkins,
the
band
program
could

not
support
string
performance,
so
Jenkins
played
saxophone,
clarinet
and
bassoon.”

But
while

none
of
the
founders
of
the
AACM-‐-‐Steve
McCall,
Muhal
Richard
Abrams,
Jodie
Christian,
or

Philip
Cohran-‐-‐studied
with
Dyett,
the
network
of
co-‐creation
he
developed
certainly
influenced

180

Howard
Reich,.
"Saluting
Capt.
Walter
Dyett,
Who
Made
Stars
at
DuSable."
The
Chicago

Tribune,
August
21,
2013.

181

John
F
Szwed,
Space
Is
the
Place:
The
Lives
and
times
of
Sun
Ra.
(New
York:
Pantheon
Books,

1997)
87.

Passing Notes in Class
Listening to Pedagogical Improvisations in Jazz History

Adam Bush

119
them
and
the
music
atmosphere
they
grew
up
in
and
similarities
exist
between
Dyett’s

nurturing
of
personal
growth
and
collective
composition
certainly
have
remnants
in
the

practices
of
the
AACM.

An
article
about
an
AACM
concert
that
Lewis
mentions
in
a
footnote

contains
a
reference
to
Dyett:

Joseph
Jarman
Quintet,
August
25,
1965,
in
the
Jamil
B.
Figi

Donation,
Chicago
Jazz
Archive,
University
of
Chicago;
“Creative
Musicians
Present

“Artistic
Heritage
Ensemble,”
Chicago
Defender,
August
11–17,
1965.
According
to

Cohran,
no
less
a
personage
than
Captain
Walter
Dyett
was
in
attendance,
“because
so

many
of
his
students
were
in
it.
He
came
up
because
of
the
trumpet,
and
he
said
he

liked
my
compositions.”
182

Dyett’s
Masters
Thesis
too
reveals
overlaps
between
his
instructional
ethos
and
the
AACM.

As

Dyett
writes,
“Great
artists
play
their
own
works
different
at
each
repetition,
remodel
them
on

the
spur
of
the
moment,
accelerate
and
retard,
in
a
way
which
they
could
not
indicate
by

signs—and
always
according
to
the
given
conditions
of
that
eternal
harmony.”

He
continues:

This
eternal
harmony
has
its
roots
and
receives
its
life
from
the
rhythms
of
nature.

By

this
we
mean
the
rhythms
that
are
the
vital
factors
in
life
without
which
we
all
sense

and
significance
are
lost.

This
matter
of
notation,
its
understanding
to
an
extent
which
is
more
than
superficial,

present
the
great
obstacle
in
the
work
of
the
music
educator.

Again
we
repose,
the

teaching
of
music
present
problems
that
are
based
upon
a
proper
understanding
of

rhythm
in
its
broadest
sense
rather
than
upon
the
tonal
phases
of
the
work.

183

And,
as
Mwata
Bowden,
a
third-‐wave
AACM
participant
added:

Adam
Bush:
your
involvement
with
the
AACM.
It
seemed
like
so
many
of
Dyett’s

students
remained
active
in
Chicago,
and
active
in
community
ideal,
ownership
of
your

neighborhood
and
ownership
of
your
music
in
a
lot
of
ways.
And
AACM
has
a
lot
of

182

George
Lewis,.
A
Power
Stronger
than
Itself
the
AACM
and
American
Experimental
Music.

(Chicago:
University
of
Chicago
Press,
2008),

546
footnote
11

183

Walter
Henri
Dyett.
True
Music
Education
Vandercook
University
M.A.
Thesis
page
61

Passing Notes in Class
Listening to Pedagogical Improvisations in Jazz History

Adam Bush

120
those
same
ideals,
and
a
lot
of
Dyett’s
students
are
part
of
the
AACM.
Could
you
talk

about
their
shared
missions?
Any
influence?

Mwata
Bowden:
I
know
what
you’re
talking
about,
but
I
think
it
was
just
primarily
a

black
thing
of
making
life
better.
We
had
been
exploited
for
many
years,
but
in
all
our

heads
we
wanted
to
be
independent.
It
was
prevalent
in
society;
even
my
mother
was

that
way.
I
don’t
think
it
was
born
in
either.
Chicago
hasn’t
been
recognized.
It
seems
for

some
reason
or
another
we
never
get
reviewed
or
previewed
for
our
concerts.

But
these
eras
and
these
spaces
interact.

As
Dyett
neared
the
end
of
his
teaching
career,

students
in
this
period
were
not
content
to
limit
their
encounters
with
black
music
to

extracurricular
activities.
“The
current
of
the
time
had
changed
by
then,”
Colson
recalled
in

George
Lewis’
A
Power
Stronger
Than
Itself,
“because
we
were
in
negotiations,
saying,
look,
we

want
some
black
studies
courses.”
184

“Places
bear
the
records,”
Lucy
Lippard
writes
in
the
Lure
of
the
Local,
“of
hybrid
culture,
hybrid

histories
that
must
be
woven
into
a
new
mainstream.”
Lippard
continues,

Inherent
in
the
local
is
the
concept
of
place—a
portion
of

land/town/cityscape
seen
from
the
inside,
the
resonance
of
a

specific
location
that
is
known
and
familiar…
place
is
latitudinal

and
longitudinal
within
the
map
of
a
person’s
life.

It
is
temporal

and
spatial,
personal
and
political.

A
layered
location
replete
with

human
histories
and
memories,
place
had
width
as
well
as
depth.

It
is
about
connections,
what
surrounds
it,
what
formed
it,
what

happened
there,
what
will
happen
there.
185

184

George
Lewis,.
A
Power
Stronger
than
Itself
the
AACM
and
American
Experimental
Music.

(Chicago:
University
of
Chicago
Press,
2008).
290

185

Lucy
R.
Lippard,
The
Lure
of
the
Local:
Senses
of
Place
in
a
Multicentered
Society.
(New

Press,
1998),
7

Passing Notes in Class
Listening to Pedagogical Improvisations in Jazz History

Adam Bush

121
Those
connections,
both
personal
and
inter-‐related,
were
at
the
crux
of
Dyett’s
pedagogy.

The
daily
aphorisms
he
wrote
on
the
chalkboard
were
the
reasons
he
created
Hi-‐Jinks
as
a
platform

for
student
performance.

And
they
were
tools
he
invoked
in
his
own
practice
facing
unjust

employment
opportunities
as
a
classically
trained
musician
and,
one
must
think,
the
reminders
he

wrote
to
himself
daily
while
helping
his
students
navigate
uneven
treatment

.

Morris
Ellis:
We
appeared
in
A-‐1
class.
Some
of
the
big
endowed
white
schools;
we
were

up
against
those
guys.
That’s
the
kind
of
level
he
maintained

Adam
Bush:
Eventually
Dyett
stopped
going
to
those
competitions.

ME:
Yeah,
I
know,
because
it
was
so
unfair—we
never
won,
even
though
we
won.

Actually,
I
can
understand.
Because
the
time
we
went
there
the
guy
gave
all
the
other

schools
an
‘S’,
and
gave
us
an
‘E’.
Dyett
charged
the
stage,
and
in
1940s
a
black
don’t

dare
do
that
in
white
neighborhood.
He
started
charging
the
stage.
He
had
a
bad
temper

and
a
foul
mouth
when
he
wanted.

He
wouldn’t
say
“mother
fucker”
or
anything
like

that,
but
he
would
say
“son
of
a
bitch”
he
would
say
“goddamn
nappy
head
son
of
a

bitch”
that’s
what
he
would
say.
And
he
would
say
it
with
vengeance.
He
would
shake

you
up,
say
it
like
one
of
those
street
guys.

The
story
goes
that
following
that
night,
Dyett
refused
to
enter
his
students
in
any
other
city
or

statewide
competition.

Nor
did
he
need
to.

This,
then,
tells
a
new
story
beyond
the
romanticized

tale
of
“H-‐Jinks
as
fundraiser
for
music.”
While
it
brought
in
money
for
Dyett’s
music
program,
it
also

brought
a
sense
of
control
and
ownership
to
student
work
(much
as
the
AACM’s
emphasis
on

composition
and
ownership
would
years
later).

Hi-‐Jinks
put
the
student
physically
at
center
stage

in

a
way
that
echoed
the
emotional
and
spiritual
aphorisms
that
Dyett
circulated
daily.

Students
were

Passing Notes in Class
Listening to Pedagogical Improvisations in Jazz History

Adam Bush

122
in
control
of
their
music
making,
in
control
of
their
venues,
and
in
control
of
their
life
after
college

when
emerging
out
of
Dyett’s
band
room.

For
Hi-‐Jinks
also
created
a
platform
for
his
students
to
recognize
in
their
community
and

Dyett’s
connections
to
higher
education
opportunities
(especially
Florida
A&M)
attracted

scholarships
for
his
students.

“Prudently,
black
students
like
Leroy
Jenkins
pursued

postsecondary
education
to
obtain
teaching
credentials
that
qualified
them
for
work
as
a
grade-‐

school
or
high-‐
school
music
teacher.
As
Richard
Abrams
observed,
this
was
“one
of
the
real

options”
for
black
musicians
seeking
steady,
reliable
employment.
Jenkins
went
from
DuSable

High
to
the
historically
black
Florida
A&M
University
in
Tallahassee
on
a
bassoon
scholarship,

but
soon
switched
back
to
violin.
186
”

For
Dyett,
his
work
was
about
transformation,
not
just
music
instruction.

As
Dyett

writes
in
the
conclusion
of
his
Master’s
Thesis,
“in
this
modern
world
with
school
age
students,

is
not
too
easy
task
because
of
the
many
distractions
that
tend
to
divert
the
young
mind
from

serious
and
conscientious
study.

It
is
a
real
job
to
endeavor
to
inspire
these
young
people
to

wish
to
go
further
than
a
superficial
scratching
of
the
surface
of
music….
However,
many
spend

much
time
and
energy
in
practice
and
study,
but
far
too
often
in
later
life
suddenly
drop
the

work
and
become
far
removed
from
its
influence.

When
this
occurs
there
has
been
something

wrong
about
the
whole
procedure.

This
would
seem
to
imply
that
they
have
failed
to
grasp
the

basic
facts
which
would
serve
to
make
their
work
a
really
living
something
which
takes
hold
on

186

George
Lewis.
A
Power
Stronger
than
Itself
the
AACM
and
American
Experimental
Music.

(Chicago:
University
of
Chicago
Press,
2008),
14

Passing Notes in Class
Listening to Pedagogical Improvisations in Jazz History

Adam Bush

123
them
and
inspires
them
to
greater
and
more
sincere
efforts,
which
enables
them
to
approach

nearer
each
day
to
their
desired
goal
after
they
have
“hitched
their
wagon
to
a
star.”

They

basic
principles
of
any
work
becomes
merely
a
game
which
they
play
with
pretty
sounds,
which

soon
becomes
quite
a
commonplaces
with
a
reluctant
love
of
the
enthusiasm
and
zest
which
is

so
necessary
for
continued
enjoyment
and
progress.”
187

“Relationships”
as
a
framing
for
Dyett’s
negotiations
perhaps
does
an
injustice
to
the

improvisatory
and
transformational
practices
Dyett
created
at
DuSable.

Its
not
simply
about

relating
nor
collaborating.

Dyett’s
work
was
about
responding
to
the
needs
of
his
students
by

creating
new
ways
for
them
to
see
themselves
and
new
venues
for
them
to
see
and
hear
one

another.

“When
(students
later)
were
faced
with
life
challenges,
they
could
go
back
to
the

teachings
of
this
particular
man.
He
said,
'You
will
never
forget
me.
You
might
forget
your

English
teacher,
your
math
teacher,
but
you
will
never
forget
me.'"
188

187

Walter
Henri
Dyett.
True
Music
Education
Vandercook
University
M.A.
Thesis
page
63

188

Howard
Reich.
"Saluting
Capt.
Walter
Dyett,
Who
Made
Stars
at
DuSable."
The
Chicago

Tribune,
August
21,
2013.

Passing Notes in Class
Listening to Pedagogical Improvisations in Jazz History

Adam Bush

124
The
Environment
of
Los
Angeles’
Samuel
R.
Browne

In
the
June
19,
1936
edition
of
the
Jeffersonian,
the
student-‐run
newspaper
of
Los

Angeles’
Jefferson
High
School,
the
front
page
headline
promised
that
in
the
coming
year
“The

Old
Order
Changeth
Yielding
Place
To
The
New.”
189

This
change
at
Jefferson,
the
next
fall,
was

captured
in
the
school
district’s
long-‐rumored
hiring
of
its
first
African
American
high
school

teachers,
Hazel
Gottschalk
Whitaker,
a
social
studies
teacher
with
a
Masters
degree
in

Sociology
from
USC
in
1931
and
Samuel
Rodney
Browne,
an
alumnus
of
Jefferson
(Class
of

1926),
a
graduate
from
USC,
and
a
classically
trained
pianist—a
change
that
led
to
the

resignation
or
requested
transfer
of
a
third
of
Jefferson’s
teaching
force.

While
perhaps
not
meaning
to
foreshadow
such
a
dramatic
changing
of
guard,
the

article
went
on
to
announce
that
“a
New
Spirit
will
be
developed
and
Jefferson
will
continue
to

strive
for
the
highest
in
achievement
in
the
various
fields
of
modern
education.”
190

Thinking

about
this
arrival
of
African
American
faculty
as
a
turn
to
the
modern
era
presents
an

interesting
lens
to
examine
the
curriculum
that
these
teachers
soon
began
to
institute.
191

Within
the
first
year
of
his
arrival
Sam
Browne
began
an
after-‐school
jazz
band
which,
in

Browne’s
words,
“didn’t
bring
jazz
in;
it
was
already
there.

I
just
met
[the
music]
head-‐on
and
I

189

"The
Old
Order
Changeth
Yielding
Place
To
The
New."
Jeffersonian,
June
19,
1936.

190

Ibid.

191

Jazz
is
often
told
in
terms
of
a
story
of
modernism.

One
only
has
to
look
to
the
grand

narratives
of
Ken
Burns’
PBS
documentary
Jazz
and
Burn’s
connection
of
jazz,
skyscrapers,
New

York,
and
the
American
Dream
in
each
of
its
18
hours
to
see
this.

Passing Notes in Class
Listening to Pedagogical Improvisations in Jazz History

Adam Bush

125
put
my
arms
around
it.”
192

It’s
this
repositioning
of
where
“in”
is
that
Browne
challenged
and

expanded
Jefferson
High
School’s
reach
on
Central
Avenue.

This
embrace
of
popular
music
and
African
American
culture
was
harder
fought,

certainly,
than
Browne
alludes
to
in
this
quote.

In
1936
Los
Angeles,
as
elsewhere
throughout

the
country,
jazz
was
still
not
seen
as
a
music
worthy
of
being
inside
the
school
classroom.

It

was
dance
music
alone
(just
recently
experiencing
a
large
growth
in
notoriety
in
public

consciousness
following
Benny
Goodman’s
1935
performance
at
the
Palomar
Ballroom)
and,

not
functioning
as
a
Booster
Band,
did
not
aid
the
traditional
fostering
of
school
spirit.

Creative
inspiration
was
plentiful
for
Sam
Browne’s
students.

Jefferson
High
School,

where
he
taught
for
28
years,
resided
on
41
st

Street,
just
east
of
Central
Avenue.

The
Main

Stem,
as
it
was
called
in
the
pre-‐war
period,
was
the
economic
and
entertainment
capital
of

black
segregated
Los
Angeles.

By
1940,
almost
70%
of
Los
Angeles’
African
American

population
lined
the
three
mile
stretch
of
Central
Avenue
from
1
st

Street
down
to
42
nd

Street

(up
from
40%
of
the
1920
population)
where
restricted
covenants
and
intimidation
kept
much

of
African
American
life.

Hotels,
dance
halls,
and
the
musicians
union
catered
to
Central’s

nightlife
where,
as
Jackie
Kelso,
one
of
Browne’s
first
students
recalled,
“suddenly
there’s
this

aura
of
mysterious
wonderfulness…
there’s
a
special
magic
that
comes,
a
type
of
paintbrush

192

Bette
Yarbrough
Cox.
Central
Avenue-‐-‐its
Rise
and
Fall,
1890-‐c.
1955:
Including
the
Musical

Renaissance
of
Black
Los
Angeles.
(Los
Angeles:
BEEM
Publications,
1996),
107.

Passing Notes in Class
Listening to Pedagogical Improvisations in Jazz History

Adam Bush

126
that
paints
all
the
flaws.

New
glamour
comes
to
life.

Its
almost
as
if
special
spirits
of
joy
and

abundance
bring
special
gifts
at
night
that
are
not
available
in
the
sunshine.”
193

Whether
bandstand
duels
in
the
Club
Alabam
or
the
performance
of
nighttime
dress

where
“you
didn’t
want
to
hit
the
avenue
with
dirty
shoes,”
194

many
times
discussion
of
this

‘mysterious
wonderfulness”
focuses
on
the
nightlife
of
Central
Avenue.

But
everyday

expressions
of
African
American
cultural
life
and
the
everyday
places
where
they
occur-‐-‐
the

garage,
the
front
yard,
the
public
park,
and
the
school
room-‐-‐
shed
light
on
many
different

“wonderfulness-‐es”
that
are
just
as
important
to
explore.

Jazz
is
said
to
have
arrived
in
Los
Angeles
in
1908,
when
bassist
Bill
Johnson
and
his
band

from
New
Orleans
played
for
a
month
at
the
Red
Feather
Tavern.

Johnson
inaugurated
a
string

of
visits
from
Louisiana
in
which
many
other
New
Orleans
musicians
migrated
West:
Freddie

Keppard,
George
Baquet,
Jelly
Roll
Morton,
and
the
Original
Creole
Band.

But
there
was

another
arrival
in
1908
whose
impact
on
the
Los
Angeles
jazz
scene
might
be
seen
as
equally,
if

not
more
important.

It
was
that
year,
on
April
11
th
,
that
Sam
Browne
was
born
and
brought

into
the
family
home
of
his
grandmother
and
two
uncles
in
a
house
on
33
rd

Street.

No
piano
sat
in
Browne’s
house
as
a
child.

His
first
lessons
came
at
the
Congregational

Church
at
34
th

Street
and
Central
Avenue
where
the
wife
of
the
reverend,
Mrs.
Amelia
Lightner,

gave
him
his
introduction
to
music.

But
Browne
soon
progressed
past
Mrs.
Lightner’s
teaching

abilities
and
she
soon
reassigned
him
to
the
community
music
instructor,
William
T.
Wilkins.

193

Clora
Bryant,.
Central
Avenue
Sounds:
Jazz
in
Los
Angeles.
(Berkeley:
University
of
California

Press,
1998),
215.

194

Steven
L
Isoardi,.
The
Dark
Tree
Jazz
and
the
Community
Arts
in
Los
Angeles.
(Berkeley:

University
of
California
Press,
2006),
19.

Passing Notes in Class
Listening to Pedagogical Improvisations in Jazz History

Adam Bush

127
Wilkins
was
a
full-‐time
music
teacher
who
had
run
a
piano
studio
out
of
his
home
on
14
th

and

Central
Avenue
since
1912
and
that
had
employed
up
to
seven
other
instructors
in
his
academy

at
a
time.
195

His
lessons,
which
took
place
individually
throughout
the
week
and
in-‐group

lessons
every
Sunday,
worked
to
prepare
students
for
an
annual
recital
held
at
Blanchard
Hall

downtown.

Practice,
at
times,
was
held
on
Wilkins’
front
lawn
so
that,
as
Browne
recounted,

“as
the
streetcars
passed
by,
people
would
stop
and
stand
and
listen…
as
we
played.

That’s

what
Wilkins
wanted.

He
enjoyed
the
excitement.

He
wanted
to
draw
attention
to
the
fact

that
he
was
a
teacher
of
piano
who
had
something
to
offer,
something
to
present
that
he
was

proud
of.”
196

For
Wilkins,
it
was
just
as
important
for
the
practice
to
be
public
as
it
was
the

performance.

It
was
through
these
practices,
and
through
education
that
Wilkins
claimed

public
space
as
a
space
to
be
filled
with
sound.

Everything
was
a
performance
for
William

Wilkins.

New
hires
in
his
academy
were
announced
in
the
California
Eagle,
students
were
given

standing
ovations
for
playing
the
piano
so
hard
they
broke
a
string,
even
his
style
of
dress

performed
his
role
in
the
community.

“He
let
his
hair
grow
long,
and
he
looked
like
Oscar
Wilde

in
the
way
he
dressed.
You
know
the
Little
Lord
Fauntleroy
collar
and
the
fluffy
black
tie?
And

he
wore
capes.”
197

All
of
this,
however,
brought
with
it
a
hidden
frustration.

As
Browne

recounted,
Wilkins
“was
angry
because
he
could
not
accomplish
what
he
had
dreams
of

195

Listing
music
as
a
full
time
profession
was
an
aberration
to
the
Los
Angeles
music
scene.

In

1920,
the
census
recorded
only
48
African
American
musicians
or
music
teachers,
up
from
a

recorded
9
claiming
the
music
profession
as
their
full-‐time
employment
in
1910.

(out
of
590

full
time
in
1910
and
1,146
in
1920
in
Los
Angeles
county
that
year).

These
numbers
omit

female
musicians
and
music
teachers,
as
well
as
any
part-‐time
teacher.

196

Bette
Yarbrough
Cox,.
Central
Avenue-‐-‐its
Rise
and
Fall,
1890-‐c.
1955:
Including
the
Musical

Renaissance
of
Black
Los
Angeles.
(Los
Angeles:
BEEM
Publications,
1996),
100.

197

Jackie
Kelson,
Interview
with
the
author,
November
3,
2003

Passing Notes in Class
Listening to Pedagogical Improvisations in Jazz History

Adam Bush

128
accomplishing.

He
knew
what
enormous
barriers
black
musicians
had
to
face,
but
we
didn’t

know
it.

So
he
drove
us,
and
congratulated
us,
and
gave
us
every
type
of
appreciation
that
one

person
could
give
to
another.

He
became
a
surrogate
father
to
all
of
us.”
198

Wilkins’
reclamation
of
the
front
lawn
as
a
place
for
cultural
production
places
the
act
of

practicing,
a
normally
private
action,
into
the
realm
of
the
street
and
the
public
eye.
199

For

Samuel
Browne,
a
star
pupil
even
before
his
Jefferson
High
School
career,
to
continue
working

with
Wilkins
even
while
taking
music
classes
at
Jefferson
High
School
from
their
music
teacher,

John
H.
Davis,
was
a
necessity.

When
Browne
started
Jefferson
in
1922,
the
student
population

was
only
about
20%
African
American
200

and,
for
a
student
interested
in
music,
“my
music

interests
were
mainly
classical,
and
I
was
in
the
orchestra.

They
didn’t
say
no
but
they
didn’t

encourage
it.

I
remember
I
had
to
fight
to
play
Chopin
at
the
commencement
exercises.
They

didn’t
think
too
much
of
a
black
kid
doing
that
kind
of
think
no
matter
how
talented
he
might

be.

But
they
let
me
and
patted
themselves
on
the
back
about
how
democratic
they
were.”
201

198

Bette
Yarbrough
Cox,.
Central
Avenue-‐-‐its
Rise
and
Fall,
1890-‐c.
1955:
Including
the
Musical

Renaissance
of
Black
Los
Angeles.
Los
Angeles:
BEEM
Publications,
1996.

199

As
Michael
Dawson
writes
in
a
special
issue
of
Social
Text
devoted
to
the
Black
Public

Sphere,
the
“Black
public
sphere
as
“a
set
of
institutions,
communication
networks,
and

practices
which
facilitate
debate
of
causes
and
remedies
to
the
current
combination
of
political

setbacks
and
economic
devastation
facing
major
segments
of
the
Black
community
and
which

facilitate
the
creation
of
oppositional
frameworks
and
sites”

[Michael
Dawson,
The
Black
Public

Sphere,
pg
197].

Much
how
Lefebvre
imagines
lived-‐space
gaining
meaning
through
its
social

interaction,
Wilkins
produces
black
space
through
cultural
practice.

Because
of
this,
it

remained
important
for
many
of
his
students
to
continue
with
him
long
after
they
entered

other
music
programs.

200

Marshall
Royal,
and
Claire
Gordon.
Marshal
Royal,
Jazz
Survivor.
London:
Cassell,
1996.

201

Bette
Yarbrough
Cox,.
Central
Avenue-‐-‐its
Rise
and
Fall,
1890-‐c.
1955:
Including
the
Musical

Renaissance
of
Black
Los
Angeles.
(Los
Angeles:
BEEM
Publications,
1996)

Passing Notes in Class
Listening to Pedagogical Improvisations in Jazz History

Adam Bush

129
Browne
received
numerous
awards
during
his
high
school
career.
Besides
performing

Chopin
at
his
commencement
exercises,
he
composed
a
piece
for
a
string
quartet,
and
won

accolades
from
the
public
library
for
a
written
essay.
202

By
the
time
he
graduated
in
January
of

1926,
the
African
American
population
of
Jefferson
had
just
begun
a
dramatic
growth.
203

The

next
year,
Fremont
High
School
was
established
just
Southwest
of
Jefferson
High,
designed
for

children
in
the
western,
predominately
white,
neighboring
residential
neighborhoods,
while

Jefferson
remained
zoned
for
the
integrated
neighborhoods
of
Southern
and
Eastern
LA.

With

this
racial
shift,
Jefferson
soon
developed
the
public
reputation
of
a
less
rigorous
educational

environment,
driving
some,
like
to-‐be-‐mayor
Tom
Bradley
to
adopt
the
address
where
which

his
mother
worked
as
a
domestic
worker
in
order
to
enroll
at
Polytechnic
High
School
after

seeing
all
the
“gifted
people
with
no
outlet”
204

at
his
Layfayette
Jr.
High.

After
graduation,
Browne
began
his
studies
in
the
spring
semester
of
1926
at
the

University
of
Southern
California.

“Those
were
interesting
days
and
very
important
days
in
my
life,
of

course.

There
weren’t
many
of
us
there,
not
many
black
students
I
mean.

You

could
count
the
black
students
throughout
the
school
on
two
hands.

And
in
the

202

Jeffersonain,
January
22,
1926:
“…
The
inspirational
part
of
the
program
will
be
furnished
by

two
of
the
most
talented
musicians
of
the
class.

A
piano
solo,
“Polonaise
in
Ab
Major”
by

Chopin,
will
be
played
by
Samuel
Brown
who
will
be
the
accompanist
on
the
commencement

program.
AND
“…
An
original
composition
for
a
string
quartet
and
piano
will
be
offered
by

Lillian
Garker,
violin,
Morris
Pass,
violin,
Dorothy
Suett,
viola,
Mildren
Johnson,
cello,
and

Bertha

Leventhal,
piano.

To
Samuel
Brown
goes
the
honor
of
composing
this
piece.”

203

which
by
1938
would
be
60%.African
American,
Raftery,
Judith
Rosenberg.
Land
of
Fair

Promise:
Politics
and
Reform
in
Los
Angeles
Schools,
1885-‐1941.
(Stanford,
Calif.:
Stanford

University
Press,
1992),
183-‐191.

204

Tom
Bradley
Bernard
Galm,
and
Los
Angeles
California.
The
Impossible
Dream:.
Los
Angeles,

Los
Angeles,
1984.
17-‐18.
&

Raftery,
Judith
Rosenberg.
Land
of
Fair
Promise:
Politics
and

Reform
in
Los
Angeles
Schools,
1885-‐1941.
(Stanford,
Calif.:
Stanford
University
Press,
1992),

186.

Passing Notes in Class
Listening to Pedagogical Improvisations in Jazz History

Adam Bush

130
school
of
music
there
were
maybe
six
or
seven
of
us.

And
I
was
probably
one
out

of
only
two
or
three
that
were
there
full
time.

It
was
expensive
and
very
difficult

to
finance.

I
have
to
thank
my
uncles
and
my
grandmother,
that’s
how
I
was

able
to
survive.

They
paid
for
it.

I
also
worked,
of
course,
on
the
weekends.

I

shined
shoes
on
Seventh
and
Grand
and
on
Sundays
I
worked
for
the
church.

I

always
had
that
Sunday
job
playing
for
a
church
choir.

I’d
either
be
conducting

or
playing
the
organ
or
both.”

But
after
graduating
from
USC
magna
cum
laude
honors
(though
because
of
his
race
was
not

allowed
to
attend
the
ceremony
to
receive
his
honor),
Browne
was
unable
to
find
any
teaching

work.

“I
would
call
the
professors
at
USC
and
they’d
say,
“Absolutely
not.

There
will
never
be
a

‘Negra’
teaching
in
the
school
system
in
Los
Angeles.”

I’ll
always
remember
that.”
205

So,
for
the
next
seven
years
Browne
traveled
the
western
states
as
a
member
of
various

music
organizations
and
choirs.

In
1929,
Browne
became
the
leader
of
the
Alabama
Crooners,

a
‘fake
territorial
band’
and
Los
Angeles
based
choir
which
traveled
much
of
the
Midwest
whom

he
backed
on
piano,
as
they
toured
as
far
west
as
Kansas
City.

“This
was
in
the
days
that
if
you

were
black
and
you
wanted
to
sing,
you
had
to
act
the
part
or
you
didn’t
get
the
job.

So
you

wore
bandannas
and
overalls,
all
that
kind
of
bit.

It
was
a
matter
of
survival,
you
see.”

As

Browne
said
in
an
interview
commenting
on
the
absurdity
of
his
situation,
“now
these
were
not

Alabama
people,
but
that’s
the
way
things
had
to
be.”

In
1935
Sam
Browne
returned
to
LA,
and

began
teaching
night
class
at
the
YMCA
in
literature,
then
music,
until
he
was
finally
offered
an

opportunity
to
teach
night
classes
at
Jefferson
High
School.

In
1936,
Browne’s
first
teaching
position
emerged
as
a
result
of
the
Civil
Works

Administration
where
he
was
hired
to
teach
night
classes
at
Jefferson.

It
soon
progressed
from

205

Bette
Yarbrough
Cox,.
Central
Avenue-‐-‐its
Rise
and
Fall,
1890-‐c.
1955:
Including
the
Musical

Renaissance
of
Black
Los
Angeles.
(Los
Angeles:
BEEM
Publications,
1996)

Passing Notes in Class
Listening to Pedagogical Improvisations in Jazz History

Adam Bush

131
one
night
a
week
to
three—not
only
choir,
but
piano
and
harmony
where
he
would
bring
in

famed
organists,
such
as
Julia
Howell
and
Hall
Johnson.

At
Jefferson,
Browne
was
hired
initially

as
a
day-‐to-‐day
substitute
for
$166/month
where
“I
thought
I
was
the
richest
person
in
Los

Angeles,
and
the
happiest
too.”
206

In
September
of
1936,
when
Browne’s
hiring
was

announced,
a
third
of
the
teaching
force
at
Jefferson
resigned
upon
Browne’s
appointment.

They
had
taken
a
vote
and
decided
to
leave
“and
that’s
what
I
walked
into
when
I
started

teaching
there.”

After
Browne
was
hired
in
1936
as
the
first
African
American
teacher
in
the
Los
Angeles

Unified
School
District,
he
worked
to
transform
the
music
classroom
into
a
community
space—
albeit
one,
for
his
first
five
years
he
was
not
officially
allowed
to
instruct
in
Black
music.

While

many
of
his
students
would
talk
of
SWU—Sidewalk
University—as
being
the
site
for
music

education—Browne
worked
to
blur
these
lines
saying,
“I
didn’t
bring
jazz
in;
it
was
already

there.

I
just
met
[the
music]
head-‐on
and
I
put
my
arms
around
it.
I
salvaged
it
and
tried
to

make
it
respectable
because
it
was
here
to
stay.

I
personally
had
a
classical
background
and

was
trained
in
European
music.

But
jazz
music,
that’s
what
they
wanted.”
207

Students
walked

through
Central
Avenue
to
get
to
Jefferson
High
School
on
41
st

and
Hoover
and
to
say
they

learned
Ravel
and
Sousa
in
a
vacuum
removed
from
the
music
of
Central,
as
a
school

administrator
might,
is
simply
naïve.

206

Bette
Yarbrough
Cox,.
Central
Avenue-‐-‐its
Rise
and
Fall,
1890-‐c.
1955:
Including
the
Musical

Renaissance
of
Black
Los
Angeles.
(Los
Angeles:
BEEM
Publications,
1996),
43.

207
ibid.
107

Passing Notes in Class
Listening to Pedagogical Improvisations in Jazz History

Adam Bush

132
The
space
of
the
classroom,
then,
seeks
to
correct
the
historical
record
and
this
limited

visibility
of
what
jazz
historiography
entails.

Seeing
jazz
simply
as
music
of
spontaneity
and

nightlife
silences
the
sounds
of
practice
and
blacks
out
the
spaces
of
rehearsal.

But
putting
this

music
in
a
context
of
conflict
between
school
board
and
teacher,
street
and
school,
and

students
and
teacher,
highlights
a
new
dimension
to
the
spaces
of
black
cultural
production

where,

“on
the
one
hand
[the
classrooms]
functions
as
spaces
of
withdrawal
and
regroupment,

on
the
other
hand
they
also
function
as
bases
and
training
grounds
for
agitational
activities

directed
toward
wider
publics.

It
is
precisely
the
dialogue
between
these
two
functions
that

their
emancipatory
potential
resides.

This
dialectic
enables
counter-‐publics
partially
to
offset,

although
not
wholly
to
eradicate,
the
unjust
participatory
privileges
enjoyed
by
members
of

dominant
social
groups
in
stratified
societies.”

208

Browne
blended
those
worlds
and
used
the

classroom
as
a
point
of
interaction
of
cultural
practices
and
of
personal
stories.

Upon
the
hiring
of
a
new
principal
in
1941,
Browne
was
finally
allowed
to
expand
his

program
to
incorporate
a
swing
band.

Even
with
this,
however,
activities
at
Jefferson
that

would
encourage
interracial
mixing
continued
to
be
banned.

Jefferson’s
first
Senior
Prom
did

not
take
place
until
1946
and
the
Swing
Band,
although
trained
as
a
dance
band,
was
only

permitted
to
play
concerts
in
the
auditorium
on
school
grounds
until
1945
(long
after
even
the

Zoot
Suit
Riots).

So,
to
counter
this,
Browne
would
organize
impromptu
dances
outside
his

classroom,
where
students
would
gather
after
the
schools
bells
had
rung
for
the
day
where,
in

208

Nancy
Fraser
“Rethinking
the
Public
Sphere:
A
Contribution
to
the
Existing
Critique
of

Actually
Existing
Democracy”
The
Phantom
Public
Sphere,
1993.
15

Passing Notes in Class
Listening to Pedagogical Improvisations in Jazz History

Adam Bush

133
short,
"representation
leads
to
exchange
and
harmony."
209

The
school
newspaper,
the

Jeffersonian
announced
its
founding:

October
24,
1941

Swing
Band
is
Organized
by
Jeff
Music
Students

At
the
suggestion
of
Mr.
CA
Dickenson,
Mr.
Samuel
Brown
has
organized
a
small

swinging
combination.

The
band
consists
of
boys
from
Jefferson
High
School;

Johnny
Randolph,
Willie
Martin,
Clifford
Burton,
saxes;
Robert
Ross,
trumpet;

Teddy
Loupe,
drums;
and
Mr.
Brown
at
the
piano.

This
band
played
for
an

alumni
dance
at
Verdugo
Hills
High
school
on
the
evening
of
Friday,
October
17.

Some
of
the
arrangements
that
the
band
has
are
the
Piano
Concerto
in
B-‐flat,

Take
the
A-‐Train,
I
Don’t
Want
to
Set
the
World
on
Fire,
I
Got
it
Bad
and
that

Ain’t
Good,
and
many
others.

But
this
change
in
curricular
policy
did
not
emerge
out
of
thin
air.

In
1940
in
the
Jeffersonian,

there
was
an
influx
of
petitions
to
increase
attendance
in
Jefferson.

To
stop
kids
from
simply

hanging
around
the
musicians
union,
Browne
decided,
in
a
sense,
to
bring
the
union
to
the

school
and
to
bring
jazz
into
the
curriculum
as
a
meaningful
deterrent
from
ditching
school.

And
bring
it
he
did,
6
th

period,
everyday,
in
Bungalow
11,
where
almost
30
years
of

music
students
passed
through,
as
well
as
countless
famous
guests
that
Browne
would
bring
in

for
private
tutorials
and
public
concerts:
Jimmie
Lunceford,
Lionel
Hampton
(who
Tapscott
first

met
at
Jeff
before
joining
Hamps
band
post
army),
William
Grant
Still,
Nat
Cole
and
others
who

were
friends
with
Browne.

It
became
important
for
Browne
to
impart
a
black
cultural
tradition

to
the
students
he
taught
at
Jefferson
and
the
high
school
classroom
soon
became
a
place
not

just
for
notes
scales
but
for
identity
formation
and
community
cultural
production,
with

visitors,
field
trips,
and
tutorials
which
continued
long
into
the
night
both
on
the
school
campus

209

Jacques
Attali,.
Noise:
The
Political
Economy
of
Music.
(Minneapolis:
University
of
Minnesota

Press,
1985),
62.

Passing Notes in Class
Listening to Pedagogical Improvisations in Jazz History

Adam Bush

134
and
a
few
doors
down
on
Central
itself.

This
complicates
stories
that
frame
the
first
teaching
of

Black
history
in
LAUSD
as
occurring
in
the
late
1960s
210
.

Browne’s
work
here
was
as
much
an

historical
inquiry
as
it
was
an
opportunity
to
connect
his
students
with
a
cultural
present

moment.

Students
would
encounter
these
musician’s
on
Central
and
in
the
local
musicians
union,

Local
767,
but
to
see
them
inside
their
school
was,
as
Chico
Hamilton
remembered
to
me,

“something
different
all
together.

It
made
them
more
than
just
heroes,
it
made
them
part
of

our
learning
and
part
of
our
growing
up.

I
wasn’t
in
too
many
band
things,
but
Dr
Browne
let

me
in
when
Lunceford
came
to
town—we
didn’t
have
to
ditch
school
to
go
see
them!
They

came
to
us!
For
us!”
211

Over
the
course
of
his
teaching
career
at
Jefferson,
Brown
worked
to
develop
a
swing

band,
212

a
class
in
music
arranging,
213

and
a
professionalization
program
214

that
helped
his
high

school
musicians
find
employment
in
teaching
and
performance
following
graduation.

Jackie

210

As
Bette
Cox
was
fond
of
doing
when
positioning
her
own
investigation
into
LA
African

American
History.

211

Chico
Hamilton
Interview
with
the
author
for
The
Jazz
Institute
of
Chicago,
January
2,
2005

212

Jeffersonian,
October
24,
1941,
“
Swing
Band
is
Organized
by
Jeff
Music
Students:
At
the

suggestion
of
Mr.
CA
Dickenson,
Mr.
Samuel
Brown
has
organized
a
small
swinging

combination.

Some
of
the
arrangements
that
the
band
has
are
the
Piano
Concerto
in
B-‐flat,

Take
the
A-‐Train,
I
Don’t
Want
to
Set
the
World
on
Fire,
I
Got
it
Bad
and
that
Ain’t
Good,
and

many
others.”

213

Jeffersonian,
February
10,
1946,
“The
music
students
of
Jefferson
are
fortunate
indeed
to

have
a
class
in
arranging.”

214

Jeffersonian,
September
10,
1942,
“Mr.
Samuel
Brown,
vocational
coordinator
of
the
school”

and
November
4,
1960,
“The
Jeffersonian
Staff
would
like
to
introduce
a
new
band
director
and

B-‐12
counselor,
Mr.
Caballero.”

Passing Notes in Class
Listening to Pedagogical Improvisations in Jazz History

Adam Bush

135
Kelson,
a
mainstay
of
the
Los
Angeles
jazz
scene
and
a
regular
musician
with
the
Count
Basie

Orchestra
remembers
the
early
years
of
Browne’s
tenure
at
Jefferson:

There
was
his
beginning
period
when
he
helped
the
students
in
his
unique
way,

but
he
really
got
very
much
more
involved
in
a
personal
way
about
designing

special
classes
and
having
students
come
even
before
school
and
working
after

school
with
them,
and
he
got
more
and
more
involved
in
his
devising
special

methods
for
imparting
information
to
the
kids.

One
of
the
things
he
did
while
I
was
there,
he
transcribed
or
rearranged
some

music
by
William
Grant
Still,
and
we
played
for
the
student
body.
He
was
a
very

highly
respected
and
very
devoted
person,
but
very,
very
relaxed.
Very
low-‐key,

soft
spoken,
tall,
looked
like
he
never
overate,
because
he
remained
quite
slim

and
always
quite
impressive
in
his
appearance.
Impressive,
not
that
he
was

pretentious
in
any
of
his
gestures,
but
he
was
just
withdrawn,
supremely
self-‐
confident,
a
man
who
knew
what
he
was
about
and
cared
enough
to
try
and

share
with
the
kids
what
he
knew.
He
had
the
same
image
of
many,
many
black

men
that
I
knew
as
a
kid.

Much
like
the
fight
for
an
instrumental
music
program
in
Birmingham,
Alabama,
Samuel

Browne’s
incorporation
of
jazz
music
into
the
Los
Angeles
public
high
school
music
program

was
met
with
much
resistance.

Black
culture
was
seen
by
school
administrators
to
exist
outside

of
school
grounds.
To
sanction
it
for
the
classroom
meant
to
elevate
it
alongside
the
concertos

and
marches
that
had
been
staples
of
music
classrooms
across
the
country.

The
same
racial
restrictions
that
prevented
Browne
initially
from
teaching
at
Jefferson

High
School
kept
him
away
from
his
first
career
in
classical
piano
(forcing
him
instead
to
earn
a

living
with
the
Alabama
Crooners).

It
was
not
merely
a
vocation
Browne
was
preparing
his

Passing Notes in Class
Listening to Pedagogical Improvisations in Jazz History

Adam Bush

136
students
for
through
his
music
classroom,
Dr.
Browne
was
also
telling
[them]
how
to

survive.”
215

Part
of
how
Samuel
Browne
did
that,
was
by
telling
his
life
story.

Instead
of
being
silent

of
his
own
struggles,
Browne
talked
about
why
students
should
learn
different
types
of
music.

“Samuel
Browne
was
one
of
the
most
honest
people
I
ever
met,”
Buddy
Collette
related.

“Forthcoming,
I
mean…He
didn’t
talk
too
much,
but
everything
he
said
had
meaning
and
power

and
you
grew
from
knowing
those
stories.”
216

Browne
talked
in
the
classroom
about
his

background
with
the
Alabama
Crooners
and
the
choices
he
made
to
ensure
he
could
move
back

to
Los
Angeles
to
teach
at
Jefferson
High
School.

“It
was
important
for
me
that
students
knew

who
I
was
and
why
music
was
important
to
me.”
217

The
music
he
encouraged
students
to
play
was
not
just
an
either/or
between
symphonic

compositions
or
dance
band
music.

He
was
friends
with
William
Grant
Still
and
made
sure
to

talk
about
and
introduce
students
to
Black
composers
who
they
could
learn
from.

He
invited

students
into
his
home
and
even
adopted
a
former
student
as
a
foster
son
and
raised
him
as
his

own.

He
“made
sure
we
were
heard
throughout
Los
Angeles—by
our
families
as
well
as
by

people
he
cared
for
and
about.”
218

This
blending
of
personal
and
classroom
was
about
social
interaction
as
well
as
about

creating
new
spaces
of
playing.

In
the
1930s
and
1940s,
during
a
period
of
intense
segregation,

215

Horace
Tapscott
and
Steven
Louis
Isoardi.
Songs
of
the
Unsung:
The
Musical
and
Social

Journey
of
Horace
Tapscott.
(Durham:
Duke
University
Press,
2001),
34

216

Buddy
Collette
Interview
with
the
author
for
The
Jazz
Institute
of
Chicago,
January
23,
2004

217

Samuel
Browne
interview
for
Central
Avenue;
Its
Rise
and
Fall
with
Betty
Yarborough
Cox

218

Jackie
Kelson,
Interview
with
the
author,
November
3,
2003

Passing Notes in Class
Listening to Pedagogical Improvisations in Jazz History

Adam Bush

137
discrimination,
and
the
black
middle
class
moving
west,
Browne’s
work
also
helped
ensure
that

Central
Avenue
was
vibrant
and
that
his
students
had
the
skills
to
claim
spaces
as
the
terrain
of

Los
Angeles
continued
to
change.

“The
new
performance
spaces
provided
a
novel
sort
of
atmosphere
for
hearing
jazz,
one

that
enabled
uninterrupted
sets,
a
more
intimate
relationship
between
the
artists
and
the

audience,
and
an
opportunity
to
explore
a
more
theatrical
and
political
performance

sensibility”
219

Sam
Browne’s
Los
Angeles
music
program,
too,
did
not
exist
in
isolation.

As
Los

Angeles’
redlining
laws
enforced
a
de
facto
segregation
throughout
the
city,
several
other

educators
outside
of
the
Jefferson
High
School
classroom,
held
important
role’s
in
Los
Angeles’

music
community
and
were
connected
intimately
to
Browne’s
teaching
at
Jefferson.
220

“There

were
just
so
many
cats
around
here
then
and
everybody
was
working
on
their
own
thing,

bringing
their
own
shot
at
the
music.

Everybody
played
different
and
there
was
always

somebody
trying
to
do
something
different.”

Alma
Hightower
moved
to
Los
Angeles
as
the

219

Ingrid
T
Monson,.
Freedom
Sounds:
Civil
Rights
Call
out
to
Jazz
and
Africa.
(Oxford:
Oxford

University
Press,
2007)

220

Hazel
Whitaker
(Browne’s
colleague
at
Jefferson
and
the
instructor
of
the
first
ever
‘Negro

History’
class
in
LAUSD)
designed
s
three-‐year
survey
of
Los
Angeles's
black
population
done
in

1931
examining
education
environments
and
segregation.
Whitaker
used
the
files
of
the

Department
of
Psychology
and
Educational
Research
where
she
found
that
black
and
white

children
from
the
same
social
and
geographic
area
had
similar
1.Q.s.
One
difficulty
Whitaker

encountered
was
"to
find
one
hundred
gifted
white
children
living
in
the
community
with

blacks."
Most
of
the
whites
were
recent
immigrants
and
poorer
than
their
black
neighbors.

They
also
scored
lower
on
the
tests.

Yet
during
those
years
Los
Angeles
began
segregating

black
students.
The
I.Q.
tests
played
little
or
no
part
in
their
decision.
There
is
ample
evidence

to
prove
the
board
bowed
to
community
pressure
and
began
deliberate
segregation
of
blacks

during
the
late
1920s
regardless
of
test
scores.
In
the
case
of
Jefferson
High,
and
later
of
Jordan

High,
the
board
re-‐drew
some
school
boundaries,
and
in
others,
school
staff
directed
black

students
into
vocational
education
classes

Passing Notes in Class
Listening to Pedagogical Improvisations in Jazz History

Adam Bush

138
bequest
of
her
niece
in
1937
and
immediately
began
teaching
private
piano
lessons
in
the

community
in
a
rehearsal
hall
in
the
back
of
her
house
on
Vernon
Avenue—a
garage
space

where
Miles
Davis
and
Lucky
Thompson
would,
a
few
years
later,
come
to
practice
when

passing
through
LA.

The
following
year,
in
1938,
Hightower
began
taking
multiple
students
to

the
park—originally
Ross
Synder
Park
on
41
st

and
Compton.
Very
soon,
Hightower
received

funds
(beginning
in
1938)
from
the
WPA,
to
turn
the
rehearsal
band
into
a
community

orchestra.

Alma
rehearsed
every
Tuesday
and
performed
an
All
City
Orchestra
each
year
at
the

Shrine
Auditorium.
She
taught
Alton
Redd,
her
nephew,
Red
Mack
Morris,
Hamp,
and
Buddy

Redd,
Vi
Redd,
Melba
Liston,
Guido
Sinclair
(then
Sinclair
Greenwell-‐-‐
later
one
of
the
founding

members
of
Tapscott’s
Pan
Afrikan
Peoples
Ark),
Chico
Hamilton,
Sonny
Criss,
Dexter
Gordon,

Jay
McNeely,
Clarence
McDonald
and
countless
others
until
her
retirement
from
teacher
the

year
before
her
death
in
1970.

"Alma
was
the
matriarch
of
Central.

There
was
Sam
Browne.

He
was
it
for
me.

I
kissed

his
feet
whenever
I
saw
him...
There
was
also
William
Watkins.

That
was
Sam
Browne’s

teacher.

But
Mrs.
Hightower,
she
was
every
musician’s
mother.

Even
though
I
wasn’t
in
her

orchestra,
I
was
taking
lessons
with
Couchie
Roberts
and
Lloyd
Resse,
she
always
still
let
me

have
some
of
the
food
in
her
music
studio
she
made
for
her
band,
the
Melodies,
I
think,
but

that
was
when
I
was
older....
Alma
Hightower
led
the
parks
band
for
us
musicians.

Chico
was
in

with
her.

I
remember
they
played
at
the
YMCA
a
some
weekends
and
in
South
Park
they’d

Passing Notes in Class
Listening to Pedagogical Improvisations in Jazz History

Adam Bush

139
have
a
few
big
concerts
each
summer
they’d
all
be
working
for."
221

Alma’s
Tuesday
park

rehearsals
would
take
place
in
Synder
Park,
because
Alma
could
catch
her
students
coming
out

of
Jefferson
High
School
just
two
blocks
away,
but
her
home
base
soon
became
South
Park
for

those
summer
concerts.

Chico
remembers
his
whole
family
coming
out,
“my
neighbors,
by

friends,
it
was
like
a
parade
just
to
get
to
the
park
from
my
street.”
222

In
1937,
when
Alma
began
teaching
her
park
band,
Sam
Browne
at
Jefferson
was
still

primarily
teaching
classical
music
in
his
classroom;
it
wasn’t
until
1941
that
he
began
to
expand

with
dance-‐bands.
Hightower’s
Melodie
Dots
functioned
as
a
city
sponsored
educational

outlet—one
that
was
able
to
include
and
instruct
in
dance
music.

Other
educators,
like
Professor
John
Gray
ran
an
independent
Conservatory
of
Music.

“He
had
a
music
school
located
on
the
southeast
corner,
on
Forty-‐first
Street,
of
Forty-‐first
and

previous
hit
Central
next
hit
[Avenue].
Catty-‐corner
from
that
was
a
building
that's
now
still

standing.
It
was
called
the
Western
School
of
Music.
But
Professor
Gray—
Yeah,
they
called
him

Professor
Gray…had
this
music
school
where
all
instruments
were
taught.
He
was
my
sister

[Phyllis
Kelson
Holloway]'s
piano
teacher.
He
would
have
monthly
recitals
at
a
building
just

around
the
corner,
on
previous
hit
Central
next
hit
Avenue,
just
north
of
Forty-‐first
Street
on

221

Jack