Sometimes, all it takes is one lucky break to make a hit record or launch an unknown singing group. Other times, it takes more than one. Case in point: the Ronettes — lead singer Ronnie, older sister Estelle, and cousin Nedra.

The trio had been singing together for over a decade at Manhattan churches and bar mitzvahs, but had yet to break out. No radio gigs or club or theater dates, and certainly no recordings, perhaps to be expected due to their rather youngish ages.

In 1961, the girls — Nedra (15), Ronnie (18), and Estelle (20) — decided to check out the Peppermint Lounge, the hottest nightclub in New York City, ground zero for the twist dance craze (based on Chubby Checker’s 1960 hit “The Twist.”)

The trio waited in line to enter, even though Nedra and Ronnie were underage (still in high school). To look older, they stuffed Kleenex in their bras, dressed in the same outfits, and held cigarettes in their hands.

When the club manager came out, he spotted the group and shouted, “Girls, you’re late. Get in here.” He thought they were the dancers he hired to do the twist.

Estelle piped up, “No, wait, we’re not the — ."

Ronnie elbowed her in the ribs before she could finish, and they followed the manager inside, where he told the girls to dance behind the house band and sing. Of course, they could do both, so they sang Ray Charles’s “What’d I Say” and were hired on the spot.

In no time, the girls loved what they were doing and so did the nightclub audiences. They acquired a manager and started making records as Ronnie and the Relatives (cute name). None of the sides charted, but gigs picked up all over New York City. Still no hit records or concerts in theaters.

They would need something else to reach the next level.

The owners of the Peppermint Lounge opened another Peppermint in Miami, and the Ronettes opened there as well. Popular New York disc jockey Murray “the K” Kaufman happened to be on vacation and attended a Ronettes performance.

At the close, “the K” told them, “I wish I had some girls like you who lived in New York.”

Ronnie replied, “What, are you crazy? We live in New York.”

That’s all it took. Gigs on his radio show and stints on his rock ’n’ roll revues at the Brooklyn Fox Theater soon followed. The trio worked with popular Motown standouts the Temptations, Smokey Robinson, the Marvelettes, and Little Eva.

By 1963 the Ronettes were the only act on Murray’s shows that didn’t have a hit record. They would need another something for that.

The girls decided it was time for a new producer and label. They first thought of Phil Spector, having seen his name all over a slew of records as co-writer and producer. Plus, he had his own label, Philles, and was around their age, 21. But how could they reach him?

Ronnie and Estelle decided to cold-call him — considered a no-no in the business — at his office. Estelle had the more polished grown-up voice and convinced the secretary to put her through to Spector. She spoke to Phil for a couple of minutes, and miracle of miracles, he wanted to see them at Mirasound Studio the very next night.

A half a year later, the singing trio hit gold, real gold — Gold Star Recording Studios in Los Angeles, where they recorded “Be My Baby” for Phil Spector on his Philles label, their first hit record!

And what a hit record it was, reaching number 2 on the Billboard Pop Chart, and with the fullness of time, ranked number 22 on Rolling Stone Magazine's 500 Greatest Songs of All Time (2020 edition). How to explain all of this? Talent will out, of course, but not without a happy musical accident or two or three.[1]

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With a big hit under their collective belts, the Ronettes performed at several stateside concerts before they toured the UK in early 1964. Because their records sold so well there, they were now concert headliners and — dig this — the Rolling Stones (Mick, Keith, and the boys) opened their shows.

The trio also met and hung out with the Beatles (Paul, John, George, and Ringo) before their first American tour. Ronnie told the soon-to-be Fab Four that they had to go to the Peppermint Lounge when they visited the States.

When the Beatles arrived in America on February 7, they went directly to the Peppermint hours after their Pan Am Jet touched down. Whether they danced the Twist and sang a song for the manager is not known.[2]

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The “Be My Baby” session was primarily known for the Ronettes singing, but in some circles, it was equally known for the producer’s Wall of Sound. Spector employed 14 musicians to create a lush, echo-laden sound that was the Rosetta Stone for pioneer studio producers George Martin of the Beatles (Sgt. Pepper) and Brian Wilson of the Beach Boys (Pet Sounds).

The session was also known for the irregular, infectious Latin sounding beat instituted by drummer Hal Blaine when he dropped his stick by accident on the 4 beat and just played the 2 throughout. On a usual rock and roll song, the snare drum is hit on the 2 and 4. In this case, no 4. [3]

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Sadly, Ronnie died on January 12, 2022. RIP.

1. Marc Myers, Rock Concert: An Oral History as Told by the Artists, Backstage Insiders, And Fans Who Were There (Grove Press, New York, 2021), 76–79.
2. Ibid., 80.
3. Edward Alan Faine, Serendipity Doo-Dah: True Stories of Happy Musical Accidents, Book One  (Takoma Park, IM Press, 2017), 79–81.

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​​John F. Kennedy was the first president in modern White House history to sponsor jazz events. The first was a concert featuring the Newport Jazz All-Stars, Dave Brubeck Quartet, and the Tony Bennett Trio assembled on the Washington Monument grounds (Sylvan Theater) on August 28, 1962; and the second, a concert by the Paul Winter Sextet in the East Room on November 19, 1962.[1]

The jazz ice was broken. America’s musical poor sister was finally recognized. 

It was up to the successor president, Lyndon B. Johnson, to act on the jazz precedent set by JFK. And did he ever!

As if to make up for the long oversight, the Johnson administration hosted 16 jazz events during its 62-month run. Jazz had finally received its just due by a president and first lady whose musical tastes would not be described as refined but who believed it their duty to showcase the widest possible range of artistic expression at the nation’s showroom.

LBJ invited such notable jazz luminaries as Duke Ellington, Stan Getz, Sarah Vaughan, Charlie Byrd, and Dave Brubeck. See more details below:
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​LBJ made up for the decades of official neglect of America’s premier jazz composer by inviting Ellington and his orchestra to give the final performance at the White House Festival of the Arts on June 14, 1965. 

On an erected stage on the South Lawn, Duke presented sections of what would become his Far East Suite, followed by selections from his tone statement on the African American plight in America — Black, Brown and Beige (1943), featuring the lovely hymn “Come Sunday.” 
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He closed out the concert with an Ellington 12-hit-song medley that included “Solitude,” “Sophisticated Lady,” “I’m Beginning to See the Light,” and “Caravan.”

From the sound recording available at the Library of Congress, Washington, DC, here is a transcript of the event:

Opening Remarks by Dancer Gene Kelly
Historians tell us jazz began in New Orleans, and some historians tell us it began at a certain spot called Congo Square, a dusty lot down there. That may be so, I really don’t know, but I know it’s a long road from Congo Square to Carnegie Hall, and a longer musical way still.

But jazz made it, riding on the well-tailored coattails of Duke Ellington some twenty-two years ago. He and the great artists of his ensemble took Lady Jazz out of her off-the-racks cotton dress and put her in a long velvet gown.

​Ladies and Gentlemen, if there had never been a Duke Ellington, jazz would have had to invent him. So it’s with pride I present the Duke.

The Duke Ellington Orchestra
“Take the ‘A’ Train” 
[Applause follows.]

Duke Ellington Introduction
Thank you very much, Ladies and Gentlemen. That’s a warm welcome. Our first selection we would like to do is a result of our visit to the Far East a year and a half ago; we went to the Far East for the State Department on a cultural exchange program. And, of course, it was a tremendous inspiration to us all on being exposed to the beauty and enchantment of the Orient.

​And so as a result, we wrote a suite of numbers. We would like to play some of them now. We would like to say this is being done also in gratitude for the great people of the State Department Foreign Service office, who guided us so magnificently through the tour. It is called “Impressions of the Far East”:

The Duke Ellington Orchestra
“Amad” feature for Lawrence Brown (tb)
“Agra” ballad feature for Harry Carney (bs)
“Bluebird of Delhi” feature for Jimmy Hamilton (cl)
[Applause follows.]

Duke Ellington Introduction
Thank you. And now we would like to go from “Impressions of the Far East” to “Black, Brown and Beige,” which of course was done originally in 1943, and hasn’t really been done until this year in our concert appearances. This is our tone parallel to the history of the Negro in America. 
Tonight, we should like to do a suggestion of the work song theme and the spiritual theme, and a development of the two into a sort of montage. “Black, Brown and Beige”:

The Duke Ellington Orchestra
Work theme
Spiritual “Come Sunday” theme feature for Ray Nance (v) and Johnny Hodges (as)
Work and spiritual theme montage for trumpet, Harry Carney (bs), and Lawrence Brown (tb)

Lady Bird Johnson Wrap-Up
May I thank all the artists who have made this a rich, full, varied day for us all. It’s been wonderful. And now I’d like to have you all go to the tents for a bit of refreshment. I expect some of you need a hot cup of coffee. Perhaps you’d like to view the art in the garden and the east corridor. Thank you all. 
[Applause follows.] 

Duke Ellington Encore Introduction
I hate to impose on you like this, Ladies and Gentlemen, but we have a request for several of the things we have written and we’d like to play some of them for you that have become popular here. 

The Duke Ellington Orchestra
​“Solitude”
“I’ve Got It Bad” feature for Johnny Hodges (as)
“Don’t Get Around Much Anymore” feature for Duke (p)
“In the Mood”
“I’m Beginning to See the Light” (uptempo)
“Sophisticated Lady” feature for Harry Carney (bs)
“Caravan” (uptempo)
“The Opener” (uptempo feature for Paul Gonsalves [ts], Buster Cooper [tb], and Cat Anderson [tp])
“Things Ain’t What They Used to Be”

Total time: 44:44 minutes.

1. This and subsequent text is excerpted from Edward Allan Faine, Ellington at the White House, 1969 (Takoma Park, MD: IM Press, 2013), 24, 25, 32, and 211–214.

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In the conclusion to my first book on happy musical accidents, I gathered statements by 20 songwriters about where their songs came from. To a person, they claimed they didn’t write their songs, but rather, someone or something else did: smoke, the ancients, spirits, ghosts, God, nightmares, whatever.

Some examples:

Carole King: “The song was written by something outside myself, through me.”

Hank Williams: “People don’t write music. It comes to you. You sit there and wait and it comes to you.”[1]

Then along comes Reverend Gary Davis, who adds to this consensus view in, well, the funniest of all such stories, courtesy of Dave Van Ronk in his memoir The Mayor of MacDougal Street.

Reverend Davis, a blues and gospel singer proficient on guitar from Durham, North Carolina, settled in New York City in the late 1940s and influenced numerous musicians in the Greenwich Village “folk” crowd in the 1950s and 1960s. 

Up-and-coming folk trio Peter, Paul, and Mary, with ties to Greenwich Village, had selected one of Gary’s tunes “Samson and Delilah (If I Had My Way)” for their first Warner Brothers album Peter, Paul, and Mary (1962). 

To get his rights in order, Gary had to sign a contract with the Warner-associated publisher Harms-Whitmark, which decided to turn the signing into a media event. They invited reporters from all the trade papers, along with a handful of old-time songwriters on their roster.

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Paul McCartney for one would understand exactly where Reverend Davis was coming from. The former Beatle woke up one morning with a fully formed song in his head. It was so good, he hawked it around to all his friends, asking what it was: “Do you know this? It’s a good little tune, but I couldn’t have written it because I dreamt it.”

​BBC Radio named “Yesterday” the best song of the 20th century.

1. Edward Allan Faine, Serendipity Doo-Dah: True Stories of Happy Musical Accidents, Book One (Takoma Park, MD: IM Press, 2017), 133–7.
2. Dave Van Ronk with Elijah Wald, The Mayor of MacDougal Street (Philadelphia, PA: Da Capo Press, 2013), 139.​​

​Photo credit: Adobe Stock / Yevhen
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​At dinner one night in 1968, singer-songwriter Paul Anka heard his pal Frank Sinatra announce, “I’m getting out of the business. I’m sick of it. I’m getting the hell out.”

​Sinatra’s inestimable biographer James Kaplan continues the story:
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​Meanwhile, across the pond in England, another singer-songwriter several years away from superstardom was putting songs together for his next album Hunky Dory. Ken Pitt, his manager at the time, asked young David Bowie to write English lyrics to—you guessed it—“Comme d’habitude” by Claude Francois and Jacques Revaux. 

Bowie did as he was told and he titled it “Even a Fool Learns to Love,” but he was stopped dead in his tracks when Paul Anka’s English-language version by Frank Sinatra hit the airwaves.

As Bowie’s drummer Woody Woodmansey later recalled:
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​Bowie titled his version “Life on Mars” and it became side A, track 4, on Hunky Dory released in December 1971. Supported by the single “Changes”—the memorable “ch-ch-ch-changes”—the album sold reasonably well on its initial release, without being a major success. 

Six months later, after the commercial breakthrough of Bowie’s Ziggy Stardust persona, the Hunky Dory album became a hit, climbing to number three in the UK. 

Moreover, the belatedly released June 1973 “Life on Mars” single shot to number three on the UK chart and stayed there 13 weeks. No matter how the “Life on Mars” single was thought of at the time, both public and critical opinion today is through the proverbial rock ’n’ roll roof, with some critics placing the song on all-time top 100 great lists. 

Since it’s the Sinatra angle here that is of the most interest to me, one can only lament the missed opportunity by someone to have arranged a joint appearance of the two singers on a national TV show. Saturday Night Live? The Tonight Show? 

Ziggy Stardust could have sung “My Way” and Ol’ Blue Eyes “Life on Mars.” Now that would have been something.

1. James Kaplan, Sinatra: The Chairman (New York: Anchor Books, 2015), 779.
2. Woody Woodmansey with Joel Mciver, Spider from Mars: My Life With Bowie (New York: St. Martin’s Press, 2017), 101–102. ​

​Photo credits: Frank Sinatra, 1957, Capitol Records; David Bowie, 1974, ABC Television.

​On the basis of the John Coltrane and Johnny Hartman album (Impulse!, 1963), music historian Will Friedwald concluded:
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In Serendipity Doo-Dah Book One, I discussed how the “My One and Only Love” track from the above album came about as an accidental lapse by Hartman on the first run-through. The singer was so transfixed by Coltrane’s tenor sax solo that he completely forgot to come back in for his vocal at the close of the recording, which necessitated a do-over, resulting in the classic performance now known by everyone.[2]

​Another happy accident took place on that date as well. On the ride out from Manhattan to Rudy Van Gelder’s studios in Englewood Cliffs, New Jersey, to record the six planned selections, the driver turned the car radio on, and there was the voice of Nat King Cole singing Billy Strayhorn’s “Lush Life.” 

Upon hearing the song, Hartman exclaimed, “Man! This is one of the great tunes of all time.”

Coltrane responded, “Do you know it?”

He did. 

“Lush Life” was the second tune recorded that day, and not surprisingly, it was a classic, an archetypical reading that used the Cole version as a template in terms of tempo and overall format.[3]

John Coltrane and Johnny Hartman became the one recording that exposed the most people to Strayhorn’s lovely song, all because the car radio was tuned to the right station.

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Coltrane certainly knew “Lush Life”—he had recorded an instrumental version for Prestige in January, 1958, released on his album Lush Life three years later.
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1. Will Frieidwald, The Great Jazz and Pop Vocal Albums (New York: Pantheon Books, 2017), 163.
2. Edward Allan Faine, Serendipity Doo-Dah: True Stories of Happy Musical Accidents (Takoma Park, MD: IM Press, 2017), 75–6.
3. Will Friedwald, The Great Albums, 166–7.

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1958 CLASSIC RECORD ALBUMS 

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In part 3 of this 1958 blog series, we saw that 1958 gave rise to the “cool” West Coast–style jazz, a response to the blues-oriented East Coast style. That led to a reaction from many East Coast musicians, who favored a harder approach.

FUNKY HARD BOP GAINS TOEHOLD 
Hard bop was the very antithesis of the West Coast cool style. It emphasized solos, all but discarded arrangements, and adopted blues and gospel devices.

The small independent labels Blue Note and Prestige chronicled hard bop much the same way Contemporary and Pacific Jazz did the West Coast style. Blue Note had such contract artists as Art Blakey (drums), Kenny Burrel (guitar), Sonny Clark (piano), Lee Morgan (trumpet), Hank Mobley (tenor saxophone), Horace Silver (piano), and Jimmy Smith (organ).

Prestige had Donald Byrd (trumpet), John Coltrane (tenor saxophone), Art Farmer (trumpet), Curtis Fuller (trombone), Red Garland (piano), Jacky Mclean (alto saxophone), Art Taylor (drums), and Mal Waldron (piano).

Contracts were as loose as the music and allowed musicians to record on either label, which they often did.

Taken together, the Blue Note and Prestige recordings shared a common sound: a loose, rough-hewn, raw-edged, dark sound that celebrated individual over collective expression. While most of the musicians knew each other and often played together, they were not, for the most part, members of working bands.

Guitarist Kenny Burrell recorded two minor gems, Blue Lights, with a stable of hard-boppers on Blue Note (five stars, DownBeat), and another with John Coltrane on Prestige (five stars, DownBeat), and Horace Silver added Six Pieces of Silver to his gospel-tinged hard bop library on Blue Note (five stars, DownBeat). 

​Lastly, Sonny Rollins recorded Freedom Suite on Riverside (four stars, DownBeat) with Oscar Pettiford (bass) and Max Roach (drums), which surpassed his Way Out West album on Contemporary.

While the hard boppers found their jazz audience in 1958, they had not yet broken through to the general public, except perhaps for Horace Silver, who was the only hard bopper to appear at the 1958 Newport Jazz Festival. No hard bop album finished in the top 20 jazz album sales for that year. ​
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​The first bop organist, Jimmy Smith, recorded and released albums faster than any musician alive, stocking record bins with his sixth through ninth albums for Blue Note that year. In a few short years, he would be known nationally for his hit recording of the title song of the movie Walk on the Wild Side.

​In 1958, the terms “funky” and “soul” appeared regularly in DownBeat articles to describe the R&B, gospel-tinged hard bop of musicians like Art Blakey and Horace Silver.

​This music sowed the seeds of the funky, hard bop soul music of the early 1960s, which propelled hard bop musicians to prominence and made household names of Cannonball Adderly, Art Blakey, Ramsey Lewis, Lee Morgan, Les McCann, Bobby Timmons, and Jimmy Smith, among others.
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