Many of you know that the past few years have not been great ones personally or professionally. Things are starting to improve on all fronts slightly. I am doing a good bit of writing for Jazz Times (be sure to log on the JazzTimes.com and go to the “community articles” section to see a bunch of neat stuff), Modern Drummer magazine (we’re talking about doing profiles of Marty Morrell and Nick Fatool as among my 2011 projects), and have another new CD release out with the marvelous Fresh Sound Records.

The Fresh Sound release is the “entire” Jazz at the Philharmonic concert of September, 1952, that highlighted by the legendary Krupa/Rich drum battle. It has been issued in bits and pieces though the years on LP and CD, but this is the whole show. Completely remastered with comprehensive notes, the original program and actual, 1952 reviews of the show, the CD also has bonus tracks by Billie Holiday, Buddy Rich and another unissued JATP program featuring Max Roach, Flip Phillips and the gang. If it were not for Jordi Pujol and his colleagues at Fresh Sound, thousands of hours of incomparable music would be lost. I urge everyone to visit them on the web at www.FreshSound.com. You won’t believe what you’ll find there.

In line with the difficulties of the past year or two, there was a point where JazzLegends.com was close to being history. But, due to your patience, support and understanding, we are now more than afloat. I am filling orders, depending on size, the day they come in, and those of you who have ordered recently know that if something isn’t right, I’ll make it right, with replacement copies and some gratis product included as a way of thanks. In line with “new” recordings here—though it won’t be officially posted for a while—courtesy of Paul Testa we have a great audio recording of Krupa on the “Dave Garroway at Large” radio program of the 1950s. There’s some comedy, some drum instruction, and as Paul has said, is likely the only example we have of Gene playing on a practice pad. To order, just other anything else we have, and in the messages section, type in “Garroway.”

As hard as I try, it is impossible to satisfy all of the people all of the time. Although complaints have been few and far between in the 10 or so years JazzLegends has been on the air, one of the things I hear from time to time is that some customers have expected a factory sealed, commercial issue of a CD or a DVD complete with artwork and booklet. Let me stress this again: Nothing we have is available commercially. If a CD or DVD that we carry is newly issued commercially and domestically—and I don’t see that happening soon—I immediately pull it from the site. Our material, some of it going back to the 1920s, is, by and large, either non-commercial, private footage from concerts, television and films; or is in the public domain, long out-of-print or out-of-copyright. Much of the material comes from overseas. The DVDs and CDs are packaged in a white, paper sleeve, with the title hand-printed on the CD. I found out long ago that those stick-on labels I used for so long caused a lot of problems in the playback process. CDs come with art. DVDs do not. In that we have, and will continue to offer, free shipping all over the world, no matter how large or small the order, and that tracking down this vintage stuff has not happened cheaply, “bells and whistles” packaging is not an option. If that’s what you’re after, go to Tower Records. Oops. There is no more Tower Records. I hope this makes things clear.

Some tidbits since the last time we spoke: As far as I know, the famed, Academy Award-winning documentary on Artie Shaw is still not available commercially. The one on Anita O’Day is, but because of lack of funds and support, almost no one knows about it, which is terribly sad but not surprising. I wish someone like Hudson Music, Alfred Publishing or V.I.E.W. Video would pick it up to distribute it properly. You may want to check Amazon.com about its availability.

There is a great new book out for anyone interested in drums or drumming. The legendary Lennie DiMuzio, the go-to artist relations guy at Zildjian for years who now serves in a similar capacity at Sabian, has written a funny, touching, eye-opening and comprehensive book about his life in the industry: “Tales from the Cymbal Bag,” published by Jump Back Baby Productions, is the title, and it’s a must have. For details, check out the review on JazzTimes.com. “Tales from the Cymbal Bag” is available at dozens of web sites worldwide.

Finally, and this isn’t big news to anyone, but the “officially sanctioned” Gene Krupa model drumsticks are out of production. At times, the process of getting this off the ground was simultaneously joyous and frustrating, but the bottom line is, that unless a company has the wherewithal to spend mega-bucks in advertising, promotion and PR, success will be difficult. Like everything Chris Bennett did and does at Bopworks—and Chris really did all the work—the product was superior. But, as someone once said, “Maybe it ain’t over yet.”

Also reviewed on JazzTimes.com is a new book about Louis Prima, Keely Smith and the heyday of Las Vegas, written by Tom Clavin and called “Louis Prima, Keely Smith and the Golden Age of Las Vegas” (Chicago Review Press). It’s received a lot of ink lately, and I don’t know why. It relies, for the most part on material that was previously published, with the only really original stuff coming from the likes of Connie Stevens, Shecky Greene, Debbie Reynolds, and one or two others who hardly knew Louis or Keely. The story that the self-serving Reynolds tells about “impersonating” Keely for a week because Smith was ill—and that know one ever knew about it—is beyond ridiculous. And more inaccuracies abound.

The great Gia Maione, the final Mrs. Prima, and most dedicted to his legacy—she is the keeper of the Louis Prima flame via the LouisPrima.com website and other activities–should have been a journalist. She’s getting there! Like a precious few in the business, she will not tolerate false information, inaccuracy and/or those who lack integrity, whatever their field. For a number of reasons, Gia is deservedly not happy with this work, and some of her comments, I hope, show up in the print version of Jazz Times and/or on the JazzTimes.com web site.

If you want to read about Louis Prima, try and get a copy of the book written by Garry Boulard in 1986. Another edition came out in 2002. The official title is “Just a Gigolo: The Life and Times of Louis Prima. The original publisher was The Center for Louisiana Studies, a relatively small outfit, which is possibly the reason that few have heard of this essential work. Boulard conducted a bunch of first-person interviews with people who were essential to the lives and careers of Louis, Keely, and Gia as well. Better yet, go to the www.LouisPrima.com site. It’s no surprise that Clavin’s new book cribs liberally from Boulard’s work. It’s a cut-and-paste job from top to bottom, but if it inspires more interest in the music of the principals, then it has served some valuable purpose.

You won’t find a lot of quotes in any book, or in the documentary films on Louis, from the man himself. From what little I know, his personal thoughts and feelings were not for broadcast or publication. That is how gentlemen used to behave, and had there been an “Oprah Winfrey Show” on television during the lifetime of Louis Prima, I doubt whether he would ever consent to appear as a guest. I think that only two things were really important to him: family and music. And that’s how it should have been.

I had, at one-time, a vested interest in the music of Louis, Keely and Gia, too. I sang and played his music in clubs for years, with varying results. In 1978, I recorded a note-for-note remake of Louis’ legendary “Just a Gigolo,” which was going to be released on the record label owned by Robert Stigwood of “Grease” and “Saturday Night Fever” fame. The timeless Sam Butera arrangement was produced for me by industry hit-maker Andy Kahn, best known for composing, producing and engineering the number one disco record of 1978, “Hot Shot.” Due to the almost overnight bust of the disco bubble, my version was never released. Rocker David Lee Roth did it six years later and sold millions. Those in the business tell me he didn’t copy from Louis’ version, but from ours! Believe me, had he heard the original, his version would have been much better.

Keely Smith, as of this writing, is said to be still recording and making public appearances from time to time. I wish Gia Maione would do the same.

The loss of drummer Jake Hanna was a blow to the world of percussion. If you want to hear how drums should be played in a big band, listen to Hanna’s work with the early 1960s Woody Herman Herd. No one played like him, and as the story goes, other than Dave Tough, Hanna was the only drummer in Herman history to be accorded complete freedom—to play in any way he saw fit—by the leader himself. And talk about a character! There was only one, and I do owe him a debt of thanks for introducing me to drinking a “Black and Tan” at The Irish Pub in Atlantic City, at 6 a.m., circa 1986.

We’ve lost a host of others recently as well, including the irreplaceable James Moody, Philadelphia piano icon Sid Simmons and organist/pianist Trudy Pitts. Trudy was a friend—she was friends to dozens of us here in Philadelphia—and she never really got the credit she deserved. Guitarist Pat Martino, among others, started his recording career with her, and her sidemen on some early dates included names like Roland Kirk and John Coltrane. Ultimately, family was more important to her, and she gave up the road life. Fortunately, she had a bunch of long-running playing and teaching gigs locally, and was always supported by her loving husband and drummer “Mr. C.”, aka Bill Carney. An essential part of the Philadelphia music scene is now gone. Trudy Pitts was loved by all of us.

My dear colleague from the UK, Peter Brightman, who has been so helpful and encouraging to me through the years—and by way of his is encouragement, has helped keep JazzLegends.com afloat– came up with a nifty and rather generous idea some months ago. If you visit our “Community” pages, and I hope you do, Peter has helped institute a “Donations” icon, whereby those who click on it can donate to the JazzLegends.com cause.

As far as I can determine, everyone—in some way, shape or form—has felt the effect of the economic downturn. Even the wealthy have lost tons of bread, though I don’t stay up nights worrying about them. In times like this, music and almost everything entertainment-related are the first jobs to get cut. Advertising dollars have been slashed to the minimum, resulting in magazines and newspapers fighting for survival. All the free stuff on the net has taken a bite out of those who play music, record music or write and produce DVDs. Six-piece bands have been cut to duos. Duos have been replaced by disc jockeys. In Philadelphia, we now have only one, full-time jazz club, with the decades-old Ortleib’s closing last year and Zanzibar Blue the year before. I cannot tell you the number of people I know in the industry who have been laid off or simply let go.

Human beings, however, have proven to be remarkably adaptable and resilient people. That’s why we’re still here. I’m still here as well and I intend in continue in my attempt to make a contribution to music history and jazz scholarship with JazzLegends.com and other projects.

Keep swingin’
Bruce Klauber

Singer/trumpeter and master entertainer Louis Prima may have died 31 years ago, but from an entertainment industry standpoint, he’s now bigger than ever.

His music graces dozens of film and television soundtracks and commercials, repackages of his recordings sell briskly, rockers cover his material, the DVD issue of Disney’s “Jungle Book,” where Prima played an animated version of himself, has endeared him to yet another generation.

And Gia Maione deserves the most of the credit. Married to Prima from 1963 until his death in 1978–and singing alongside him and Sam Butera and The Witnesses until Louis lapsed into a coma in 1975, she has almost single-handedly perpetuated and preserved the Louis Prima legend and legacy.

Before Gia there was vocalist Keely Smith, the forth Mrs. Prima. Louis and Keely were certifiable stars, beginning in 1954, when they first took Las Vegas by storm, until their personal and professional split in 1961. Prima, however, remained as popular than ever, and in 1962, after a nationwide talent search, he hired Maione as Smith’s replacement. A year later, they married.

One of the myths that Maione works hard to dispel is the oft-repeated story that her husband’s career was virtually over after the divorce from Smith. That inaccuracy is just one of the mythical and erroneous story lines that play a part in a tribute show called “Louis and Keely Live at the Sahara,” which has been running in the Los Angeles area for a time.

“His life after Keely was great,” Maione recently said in a prepared statement. “His career was moving full speed ahead and in some new directions. He was not rejected and alone as depicted in this musical. He continued to play to packed, standing room only crowds. He worked the finest places America had to offer, and he appeared on every top television show of the 1960s and 1970s.”

And a good deal of these dates–plus a number of marvelous recordings–featured the singing of Gia Maione. “The young singer’s rich voice was an ideal match for Prima’s rugged jazz riffs,” wrote one music critic. It is,

By the time the Gia and Louis met, Louis Prima had already reinvented himself a number of times. In the 1920s and 1930s, he was at the forefront of Dixieland jazz, led a wildly popular big band in the 1940s with a number of chart-topping Italian novelties (“Angelina” was the first), successfully combined elements of jazz, rhythm and blues and comedy in the 1950s and 1960s; and by the 1970s, even introduced elements of hard rock into his shows.

He was also quite the savvy businessman, having started one of the first, artist-run record labels in music history.

Things have been challenging for Gia Maione. Replacing one-half of one of the most popular attractions in show business was a major achievement, as has running the business of Louis Prima. Indeed, it was not until l994 that she assumed control of the rich Prima archives, after years of litigation. “The struggle took 17 years out of my life,” she says.

But she’s proven to be a master business person, operating Prima Music, LLC, www.LouisPrima.com, and entertaining lots of book and movie offers. Maione is particularly proud of the two children she had with Prima, Louis Jr. and Lena, both performing in their own, critically acclaimed musical tributes to their father.

Above all, Gia Maione is dedicated to setting the record straight.

“I am so tired of the lies and inaccurate information that I see and read almost daily about my husband, that I must finally speak out,” she said in her statement. “There are inaccurate Prima biographies all over the Internet. There is one book on Louis, riddled with untruths and false, historically incorrect material.”

Maione’s mission is a refreshing one, especially in an industry as complex and as difficult as showbusiness. “Give truth, credit and respect where it is due,” she says. “Truth matters.”

Wherever and whenever live music is played—in Naples, Florida, or otherwise—people of a certain age will often request a song made famous by the late and great Louis Prima.

Last season in Naples at The Cafe’ on Fifth Avenue, when I had the privilege of playing with the great trumpter Bob Zottola, a customer approached me and requested that we do something by Louis.

Zottola, to his eternal and idealistic credit, is a music guy, not an entertainment guy, but wanted to honor the customer’s request.

Knowing I sang and played pretty much the complete Prima repertoire through the years—“if you want to make a dollar, you’ve got to make them holler,” has long been my credo–Bob asked me, “Is there anything like a tasteful Louis Prima song?”

“No, unfortunately, there isn’t,” I told Bob.

Louis was never a darling of the jazz critics.

We did “Oh Marie” anyway and the crowd loved it. Bob was really cooking on that one. It couldn’t be helped.

Prima’s sound was and is an electrifying, timeless and swinging one that transcended labels, genres, timelines or categories. In his early days, Louis was a good, traditionally oriented trumpeter and singer out of the Louis Armstrong mold, but as time went on, he moved farther and father away from jazz into the world of entertainment.

Indeed, via his group in Las Vegas that featured vocalist Keely Smith, to whom he was married from 1953 to 1961, he made one of the biggest splashes in entertainment history in the Vegas lounges, on records, and in clubs throughout the country. Along with the architect of the Prima sound –the recently-departed saxophonist Sam Butera—the Prima book combined elements of Dixieland jazz, early rhythm and blues, the Italian jive novelties he had been doing for years, plus the deadpan vocals of Keely, to fashion an eclectic and singular sound that has never been duplicated. Many have tried, included Sonny and Cher, who basically lifted the Louie and Keely act, updated it and tried to make it their own,

Prima continued, with varying degrees of success and with changes in music policy—he was almost doing a rock and roll show at one point in later years—until he lapsed into a coma in October of 1975. He died in August, 1978.

Prima’s drummer on and off since the early 1940s was a superb player by the name of Jimmy Vincent, who died on April 15, 2002.

You can hear Vincent wailing away on some of Louis’ most famous songs, including “Jump Jive and Wail,” “Just a Gigolo” and all of the rest.

Vincent also had a good deal of success with another, semi-famed, Las Vegas-based lounge group called “The Goofers.” Drum fans, in particular, may remember Vincent appearing in ads for the Slingerland Drum Company, where he was wearing a monkey mask.

Vincent never cared about critics. If you wear a monkey mask while playing the drums, that’s obvious. But Buddy Rich, among well-known players, is said to have loved him. No one could play the shuffle beat like Jimmy Vincent.

On the morning of September 11, 2001, singer Joy Adams and I were waiting for a cab to pick us up at our Philadelphia home to take us to the airport. We were flying to Las Vegas to get together with drummer Jimmy Vincent, who was to be interviewed and featured in a Hudson Music DVD, which then had the working title of “Roots of Roll Drumming.” Eventually, it was released as “Classic Rock Drum Solos,” but the idea was the same, which was to trace the evolution of the drum solo as it ultimately applied to rock and roll,

Vincent was an important figure in this area, having helped pioneer and perfect the shuffle beat on drums, an important component of early rock.

At about 10 a.m., a few minutes before our taxi was scheduled to arrive in Philadelphia, Joy’s daughter, Lauren, called us at home. “Turn on the television, now,” she told her mother.

“What channel?” Joy asked.

“Any channel,” Lauren said.

There it was. The tragic bombing of the Word Trade Centers. Live, on television.

We didn’t believe what we were seeing.

The taxi had arrived to take us to the airport. My first thought was to call the airport to see if planes were still flying. Whomever answered the phone at the airport said that nothing had changed, Planes were still taking off.

They didn’t for long.

The trip to Vegas never happened and we never hooked up with Jimmy Vincent, who passed away about a year and one-half later.

“Classic Rock Solos” features an early, 1940s drum solo by a 16-year-old player by the name of Jimmy Vincent, tearing it up on a song written by his long-time boss, Louis Prima. The song’s title was “Sing Sing Sing.”

Bob Zottola has spoken often about doing that number when I come back to Naples.

I plan on it.

Note: I saw Sam Butera hundreds of times in the 1980s at various
casinos in Atlantic City, notably Resorts International. At that juncture,
I was writing for Atlantic City Magazine by day and playing in the lounges
by night, but I always made it my business to be in the lounge of
Resorts when Sam Butera and The Wildest were in residence. It
was the hottest show in town. Eventually, I became close with Sam
and the talented members of his band, including the late Buck Mainieri
and Chuck Stevens Ignolia (Connie’s brother) and keyboardist
and arranger Arnie Teich. Sam had me helping with sound, with
publicity, etc. In other words, I was a hanger-on with a purpose. Sam
and the boys gave me some of the most exciting and most
educational moments of my life. Though the following tribute
concentrates on Butera’s long association with Louis Prima, be
aware that he participated in many projects on his own, both before
and during the Prima years, including recording sessions as a
soloist, fabulous pairings with the likes of Frank Sinatra and Sammy
Davis, and even a film or two, including “The Rat Race.” Sam’s music,
with and without Prima, is timeless and will never, ever date or age.
Was it art? As Sam might have answered, “I don’t know, man…but it
was sure fun.”

Saxophonist Sam Butera, the architect behind the sound of the legendarysinger and trumpeter, Louis Prima, passed away in Las Vegas on June 3rd. He would have been 82 in August. Butera, who retired in 2004, died as a result of complications from Alzheimer’s Disease, said his wife of 62 years, Vera.

The Butera/Prima pairing constitutes one of the great show business stories. In 1954, young Butera was quite the sensation on the New Orleans club scene, with his raucous combination of jazz, dixieland and rhythm and blues sax solos and vocals winning over locals and tourists nightly. He was, in fact, already a national name, as he was voted as one of the most outstanding teenage jazz musicians in the country by Look Magazine a few years earlier.

Unfortunately, Louis Prima career was all but shot by 1954. Though he had enormous success in the late 1930s with a Dixieland combination on 52nd Street in New York city, a popular and quite entertaining big band throughout through the 1940s and plenty of hit records, by 1954, the big band era was long over and Prima’s “jumpin’ and jivin” style was pretty much considered old hat. Prima and then-wife, vocalist Keely Smith–they married in 1953– were working every dive imaginable, with local rhythm sections. “Louis had us playing in bowling alleys, or wherever else he could get us a job,” Smith said years later.

Prima needed a break, and he got one in the form of Bill Miller, Entertainment Director of Las Vegas’ Sahara Hotel, where Prima had once headlined. Miller gave Prima and Smith two weeks in December. In the lounge. On the midnight to 5 a.m. shift.

Though they went over well with the Vegas audience—they were extended throughout the month, and the musicians provided for them worked well–Louis Prima knew something was missing. Prima’s New Orleans-based brother, Leon, told Louis about this fabulous band in New Orleans, led by a swinging, honking, entertaining dynamo of a saxophone player, Sam Butera. Instinctively, Prima knew that Butera could give him the sound, and help realize the musical concept, he wanted. Prima begged Butera to come to Vegas on Christmas. Butera came out December 26th, and shortly after, the face of Las Vegas entertainment changed.

Louis Prima had already been through a number of musical styles, including swing, big band sounds, dixieland, Italian “jive” novelties like “Please Don’t Squeeza-Da Banana,” and several more. His goal was to somehow incorporate all of these in his act, with contemporary rhythm and blues overtones. At the same time, he was developing the role of his singing wife, Keely Smith, into that of bored, deadpan vocalist who could care less about Prima’s on-stage scatting, jiving, dancing, be-bopping and other musical shenanigans. Sonny and Cher were an updated version of Louis and Keely.

Sam Butera and his talented New Orleans crew, dubbed “The Witnesses,” brought it all together. Even Prima’s cornball novelties–like “Josephina Please Don’t Lean-A on the Bell”–were now catchy, electrric swingers, held together by a modified swing beat called a “shuffle.” It wasn’t rock and it wasn’t jazz and it wasn’t dixieland. The music of Louis Prima, as defined by Butera, had elements of them all.

Louis Prima, Keely Smith and Sam Butera and The Witness were a hit and took Las Vegas by storm. The Casbah Lounge at the Sahara was the spot in Vegas. Tables were impossible to come by and after-hours visits to the lounge by the headliners–which frequently included Frank Sinatra and his Rat Pack co-horts–became the norm. The group signed a lucrative contract with Capital Records, had a bunch of hit records, made a movie or two and were all over television. Ed Sullivan, who employed them frequentely on his television program was fond of calling them “the hottest act in the country.”

And the songs? Venerable oldies like “That Old Black Magic,” “Just a Gigolo,” “Oh Marie,” “I’ve Got You Under My Skin” and dozens of others were arranged by Sam Butera for maximum effectiveness, utilizing the skilled talents of Prima’s wild vocals and trumpet playing, Smith’s sweet singing, and on most every tune, the booting and rousing tenor saxophone of Butera.

Prima, Butera and The Witnesses remained Vegas staples–and toured the country– for years, even after the very public divorce of Keely Smith and Louis Prima in 1961. Though the hits stopped coming and audiences and tastes changed, they always had their following. In 1967, Prima, Butera and the Witnesses got a tremendous shot in the arm via their casting, albeit as cartoon characters, in Walt Disney’s “The Jungle Book.” Prima, naturally, was “King Louie,” King of the Apes. Youngsters are still mesmerized by the songs and the characters in that film today.

The man who Sam Butera called “The Chief” played his last gig in 1975, after lapsing into a coma during an operation to remove a brain tumor. Louis Prima died three years later. Butera understandably floundered a bit on his own in the beginning, and sadly, a pairing with Keely Smith didn’t work out. Vegas, of course, wasn’t the same.

But things changed with the advent of legalized casino gaming in Atlantic City in 1978. As Sam Butera and “The Wildest” (Prima widow Gia Miaone owned the name “The Witnesses” and wouldn’t allow Butera to use it), the rabble-rousing tenor man garnered an entire “new” audience who remembered and loved the music of Louis Prima. It was that Vegas excitement–every night–all over again. Butera had a fine, fine band which was seven or eight strong at one point, and for years, they were the stars of the lounge within Resorts International, often alternating with other Vegas lounge legends, The Treniers and Freddie Bell and The Bellboys. Again, everyone who was everyone came into the lounge to catch Sam Butera. Including Frank Sinatra.

Rocker David Lee Roth’s remake of Prima/Butera’s “Just a Gigolo” brought even more audiences, nationwide, to see and hear “the original,” as did The Gap’s use of the Butera arrangement of “Jump Jive and Wail.”

In 2004, Sam Butera formally retired, tired of the constant travel and having to deal with a changed Las Vegas and a changed Atlantic City. He didn’t need to work. He worked and played long and hard, and even during his last gigs at the age of 78, he played with more energy than I have ever seen on stage before or since.

I once asked, during a band break at Resorts International in the early 1980s, if there was any secret to to his longevity. “There are two things to remember,” he told me. “One is that it’s nice to be important but it’s more important to be nice. The second is, and I love pure jazz more than anyone else, that we don’t play for critics. We play what I call happy music, and as Louis used to say, ‘We play it pretty for the people.'”