This Week in Music History
illustration and story by Adam Goldstein
The Metropolitan
The life and career of Louis Armstrong was as much about personal alliances as it was about musical innovation.
On Oct. 7, 1924, Armstrong recorded with renowned bandleader Fletcher Henderson in New York. Less than a week later, the 25-year-old virtuoso began his stint as a regular member of Henderson's orchestra at the Roseland Theatre. For Armstrong, this was the first step on a path that would lead to international acclaim and recognition as a musical genius. Yet, for all the opportunity and possibility that the new gig represented, Armstrong had initially been hesitant to accept the job. He had not wanted to leave Chicago, where he played as second trumpet to his mentor, Joe "King" Oliver. Indeed, if it had not been for the unyielding insistence of his wife, Armstrong's career may have turned out much differently.
As a child growing up in New Orleans, Armstrong idolized the ragtime musicians that haunted the crooked avenues of the city. One of the acknowledged trumpet masters among these urban troubadours, Joe Oliver, took an early interest in young Armstrong.
Oliver took the young orphan under his wing, offering encouragement, advice, and inspiration. In the summer of 1923 Oliver sent a message to Armstrong offering him a post in his Creole Jazz Band in Chicago. Until the end, Armstrong affirmed that receiving this invitation was the most exciting moment of his life.
Armstrong arrived seeped in country ways, with a dialogue and wardrobe to match. The other musicians, including pianist Lil Hardin, could hardly suppress their jibes and giggles-until Armstrong played his cornet.
He soon became the superstar of the group despite his role as second trumpet. His sound was so forceful and resonant that he was forced to stand in the back of the room during recording sessions, so as not to drown out Oliver's lead. Audiences would flock to see the wonder boy and marvel at his pristine tone and poetic phrasing. The rest of the band was not immune to the effect of Armstrong's talent. Hardin, who had been so quick to dismiss Armstrong as a "bumpkin," married him in February of 1924.
Despite the clamor and praise, Armstrong remained in awe of Oliver. He saw the aging bandleader as his mentor, and more profoundly, as his surrogate father. He never thought of leaving.
Armstrong's new bride, however, saw possibility where he only saw fidelity. At the end of 1924, she made an ultimatum.
"You'll have to quit Joe and find you a job playing first," she said. "If you're going to stay with me, you have to play first."
Armstrong was dumbfounded. "I can't quit Mr. Joe," he protested. "Mr. Joe sent for me and I can't quit him."
Harden was adamant. "Well, it's Mr. Joe or me."
With Armstrong's new gig in New York, the country boy reared in the slums of New Orleans had come full circle. He had defied the odds and overcome obstacles with the sheer force of his sound. He had escaped the violence, the uncertainty and the destitution of his childhood to test his chops among the best musicians in the world. Here, finally, was his foothold on the American dream; here was his entry into a new life as a musical innovator and a pop icon.
It's impossible to say what would have happened if Hardin had not been there to make Armstrong seek bigger and brighter goals. It's hard to believe that a talent as groundbreaking and innovative as Armstrong's would have gone unnoticed. |
