Louisiana Cultural Vistas - Spring 2008 - (Page 51) When tourists come to New Orleans, they expect to find traditional jazz on every street corner, because this is the city “where jazz was born.” What they don’t always realize is that many New Orleans jazz musicians want to be a part of where jazz is going, not where it has been. As early as the 1940s, young locals attracted to the Bebop innovations of Charlie Parker and Dizzy Gillespie in New York began to explore a new version of New Orleans jazz, and saxophonist Al Belletto was prominent among them. Alphonse Belletto was born on January 3, 1928 and grew up on South Rampart Street. His surname reminds us once again of the enduring Italian-American connection to jazz here. Leon Roppolo, Nick LaRocca, Wingy Manone, Arnold Loyacano, Louis and Leon Prima, Tony Almerico, the list goes on and on, and Al’s a part of it, rooted in that tradition. He started on clarinet in high school and then took up alto sax, leading his own group while he studied music at Loyola University and LSU, where he got his master’s degree. But in the 1940s, when Al was “coming up,” the jazz scene in New Orleans was in flux. It was being affected by the realization among locals that people everywhere else believed that jazz was not only born in this city but that it was also important. (Most locals tended to look upon it as merely a good music for dancing, not necessarily as an “art form.”) The potential for economic development through jazz tourism (the next step in the dialectic) meant that traditional jazz — what outsiders expected to find here — was considered sacrosanct, while “modrin” jazz — a music deriving primarily from non-New Orleans innovators — was the enemy. Young Bebop musicians such as Al Belletto, Ellis Marsalis, Harold Battiste, and Ed Blackwell were therefore excluded from the opportunities that the jazz-tourism nexus afforded, leading to some very interesting, if somewhat bizarre, situations. Although Al had done jobs with traditionalists like Sharkey Bonano and the Dukes of Dixieland, after switching to modern jazz he found that the only work he could get in New Orleans was at striptease joints. Since the women who worked the runway were not exactly jazz experts and were thus unfamiliar with the Bebop repertoire, they assumed that the music that Belletto and company performed for their routines had been composed specifically for them — a special honor. The musicians, of course, were gratified as well, surrounded as they were by so much inspiration. Yet resistance at home ultimately meant that Belletto had to leave town to make it as a musician. In the early 1950s he headed for Chicago, where he met with another kind of resistance — suspicion of the out-of-towner. No work leaves plenty of time for rehearsal, however, and the Al Belletto Sextet grew out of the connections he made in the Windy City. Bandleader Stan Kenton liked their sound and arranged for the band to record for Capitol. Between December 1954 and July 1957 they did three LPs for the label, and much of the rest of the decade was devoted to touring in support of the records. During 1958 the sextet was absorbed into Woody Herman’s big band, which traveled throughout South America for the State Department, promoting “good will.” By the early 1960s, though, rock and roll was creating new obstacles for jazz bands hoping to attract audiences on the road, so Belletto began using a hipster comedian as an opening act to broaden the appeal. His choice was Brother Dave Gardner, who began in Memphis as a drummer and singer and then switched to “Southern style” comedy. Gardner made albums with titles like Kick Thy Ownself and posed such queries as “What will the preachers do when the Devil is saved?” He decried “all those brilliant Yankees coming down here to educate us ignorant Southerners,” while adding, “we sell ‘em WATER!” Clearly a man ahead of his time, but in the mid-1960s, when the British Invasion and Motown dominated popular music, there was little to be done for a “modrin” jazzman from New Orleans except to return home, Brother Dave’s “help” notwithstanding. Which is where Hugh Hefner comes into the story. One thing that was definitely not about to go out of fashion in the mid1960s was sex, and when Belletto landed a job as music director of the Playboy Club in the French Quarter, his future was assured. At the Playboy Club he created a bastion for modern jazz in New Orleans, which became a model for other experiments such as the Jazz Workshop on Decatur Street, and later Lu & Charlie’s and Rosie’s. Drummer Johnny Vidacovich was in Al’s VIP Lounge band and performed on the 1973 album Coach’s Choice, which included the provocatively titled selection, “Look Pa, No Bra.” (A potential Carnival anthem if ever there was one.) Belletto took the role of coach seriously and worked hard to create opportunities for young talent: he was one of the architects of Jazz Festival as early as 1968-1969 (that’s why there are traditional AND modern jazz tents), as well as being a voice of moderation when the black and white locals of the American Federation of Musicians integrated in the same years. After the Playboy Club folded in the mid1970s, Belletto joined Al Hirt, then retired from the scene for a decade before reemerging with a 16-piece big band in the early 1990s. Al Belletto must have heard Brother Dave when he exclaimed, “I’m a fanatic without a cause and I believe in it!” because his career exemplifies the freedom to explore one’s muse wherever it might be found — on the bandstand, in the strip joint, or at the Playboy Club. Like they say, you don’t go into jazz for the money, but the fringe benefits are definitely worth considering. Bruce Boyd Raeburn, Ph.D., is director of the Hogan Jazz Archive at Tulane University. Spring 2008/LOUISIANA ENDOWMENT FOR THE HUMANITIES 51
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