Institute for Studies In American Music Conservatory of Music, Brooklyn College of the City University of New York NEWSLETTER
Volume XXXVII	No. 1 Fall 2007
Inside This Issue: Inside This Issue “We Both Speak African”: Gillespie, Pozo, and the making of Afro-Cuban Jazz by David F. Garcia Reprising Gershwin, book review by Ray Allen Indian Concepts in the Music of John Coltrane by Carl Clements Leroy Jenkins: Reflections by George Lewis Max Roach: Bringing the (M)Boom Back by Salim Washington Women in Electronic Music, CD review by Doug Cohen	Celebrating a Minnesota Legend by Jeffrey Taylor Doc Evans Photo courtesy of Allan Evans In June 1981, at Carleton College in Northfield, Minnesota, a plaque was dedicated for the jazz cornetist Paul Wesley “Doc” Evans, himself a 1929 graduate of the College and something of a local legend. The plaque featured a poem by Jack “Jax” Lucas, also a Carleton graduate and longtime English professor there, who had made a name for himself as a jazz writer for Down Beat and The Record Changer in the 1940s. For years afterwards, students would pass the plaque, housed in the College’s Music and Drama Center, developing a tradition of rubbing his nose for luck, and vaguely wondering about his significance. In fact, it was partly questions like “who is this guy?” that helped prompt Stephen Kelly, a music professor at Carleton, to organize a centennial celebration of Evans’s life. On 5-6 October 2007, Carleton hosted an event to honor its local hero. The program was planned as an extension of the Doc Evans Festival that Doc’s son Allan had organized for years in Albert Lea, Minnesota. The Carleton celebration combined a student convocation, a series of academic papers, a panel discussion with those who had known or worked with Doc, and, perhaps most importantly, a splendid evening concert in Carleton’s Skinner Memorial Chapel. Making the event especially poignant was the attendance of Doc’s widow Eleanor and several members of his family, as well as members of the Lucas family. The presence of the latter seemed especially appropriate, for Doc had written on one of his LPs (on display in a fascinating exhibit about the cornetist and his life), “my best to Jack, who really made all these things possible.” Paul Wesley Evans—always known as “Doc”—was born in Spring Valley, Minnesota in 1907, and died in the Twin Cities seventy years later. Though he made no records until 1947, he was an established musician in the Minneapolis area by the 1930s, and in the 1940s was a regular at Mitch’s club in Mendota, Minnesota, a venue that attracted swing-band leaders like Claude Thornhill and Ray McKinley. He received offers to travel, but he turned them down to stay in his native state and close to his family. He did spend five years as a mainstay on Chicago’s jazz scene, but returned to Minnesota in 1952, where he hosted a television show and played a series of now-legendary concerts at Minneapolis’s Walker Arts Center. He also a built a second career in classical music, founding the still-thriving Bloomington Symphony and writing two string quartets. On cornet, Doc developed an instantly recognizable style, one with strong roots in Louis Armstrong and Bix Beiderbecke, but with its own warmth and melodic power. Even in his performances of the much overplayed “The Saints Go Marching In” he always seemed to have something very important to say. He never showed an interest in newer jazz styles, but perfected his own unique take on the music of his early heroes—a feat that, in the face of a tradition in which constant innovation is prized, one cannot help admire. Though I never met Doc, I do claim a strong personal connection to the man: in 1958 he founded the Rampart Street Club in Mendota, at a location that would later be taken over by the Hall Brothers Jazz Band and renamed The Emporium of Jazz. After graduating from Carleton in 1981 I lived in the Twin Cities for many years, and spent countless hours at “The Emp,” as we affectionally called it. There I had a chance to hear and meet some of jazz’s great players as they passed through town, and developed lasting friendships with members of the Hall Brothers band itself. In fact, it was a member of the Hall Brothers Band—Richard “Butch” Thompson—who organized and hosted the musical portions of the centennial celebration. Thompson, perhaps best known for his long stint as pianist on Garrison Keillor’s A Prairie Home Companion radio show, assembled a tribute band that included trombonist Dave Graf, drummer Phil Hey, and Thompson’s Hall Brothers cohorts Bill Evans and Charlie DeVore. Rounding out the ensemble were three special guests: clarinetist Kim Cusack, called out from Chicago on a moment’s notice to replace an ailing Mike Polad; the brilliant cornetist and trumpeter Jon-Erik Kellso, well-known to New York audiences for his work with Vince Giordano’s Nighthawks; and banjo legend Lowell Schreyer who, sadly, passed away just a month after the event. Doc always called his music “Dixieland”—a term unfortunately now often used as a pejorative to evoke musicians who don nostalgic straw hats and arm-bands to play for pizza parlors and mall openings. Though still immensely popular, particularly on the West Coast and in the Midwest, this style, with its basis on simple chord structures and reliance on a nearly century-old repertory, is still viewed with suspicion among some jazz musicians who specialize in post-1940s styles. Yet for Evans, the word had no such negative connotations: it implied a deeply-felt art that at its best could convey an entire range of emotions—from the despondency of early blues to the sheer joy of tunes by Armstrong, Beiderbecke, Jelly Roll Morton, and others. And in the musical performances at the October celebration the tired musical clichés and ideological baggage often associated with Dixieland seemed to slink out the back door. This was truly first-rate music, played by artists at the top of their game. Highlights were Kellso’s poignant lyricism on muted cornet in a rendition of Fats Waller’s “Squeeze Me” (accompanied only by piano, bass, and drums) and an exhilarating performance of Evans’s arrangement of King Oliver’s “Doctor Jazz.” As I confessed to the symposium audience on the following day, a smile never left my face the entire evening. Critics and musicians might question the validity of playing in jazz styles that have outlived their time (though what is to be made of the dozens of saxophonists in New York who resurrect recordings of Charlie Parker now over half a century old?). But when played well, this music is quite simply irresistible, and one senses Evans himself would have been delighted. The final symposium, featuring three decades of Carleton graduates, provided some academic heft to the event, moving from a more general celebration of the art of jazz by the Smithsonian Institution’s John Hasse (class of 1971), through my own re-evaluation of the so-called “Dixieland Revival” of the 1940s, to a fascinating exploration of Evans’s unique cornet style by Mark Flaherty (class of 1994). The final panel discussion, featuring Thompson, DeVore, and Allan Evans, gave more intimate insights into a man who touched many lives, both musically and personally. During the Friday convocation there was mention of this celebration becoming an annual event at Carleton, an idea that was met by a rousing round of applause. If the tireless work of Stephen Kelly, Allan Evans, and the host of others who made this event possible is any indication, Doc’s legacy is secure. Note: for more information, see Allan Evans’s website www.docevans.org, which holds a treasure-trove of information about his father. — Jeffrey Taylor Brooklyn College and the Graduate Center, CUNY ISAM home Who we are Contact us ISAM Conferences and Lectures Monographs ISAM Web Documents Newsletters Links Copyright © 2005 Institute for Studies in American Music, Conservatory of Music, Brooklyn College. All Rights Reserved. Site designed by J. Graeme Fullerton & maintained by Carl Clements, Managing Editor