[Dixielandjazz] Joe Glaser - Chicago Tribune, January 29, 2016

[Robert Ringwald]

Joe Glaser  
      
Behind a Great Trumpeter, the Notorious Joe Glaser

by Chris Jones
Chicago Tribune, January 29, 2016

In 2005, an auction of jazz memorabilia was held at the home of Jazz at Lincoln Center, benefiting foundations, archives and young musicians. One item, which went for $3,500, was a letter from Louis Armstrong to his manager, Joe Glaser, asking about his chance of playing Broadway. Another, which went for $1,600, was a telegram from Armstrong to Glaser referencing his dental problems and a lack of cash.


Those two communications typify the complexity of the relationship between two fascinating figures whose lives intersected in Chicago and, being as one of the men was a black musician and the other a white businessman, could be seen as a metaphor for issues far broader than two individuals.


Did Glaser, the uber-agent of jazz, meet an African-American trumpet player from New Orleans in Chicago and turn him into a household name and even a movie star? Or did he exploit Armstrong's talent and work him almost to death, taking half of all his grosses and encouraging him to record "white" songs like "Hello, Dolly" and "Mack the Knife" and to roll his eyes stereotypically for the delight of white audiences?


Or did he do both at once?


That question is in play in "Satchmo at the Waldorf," the very interesting Armstrong bio-drama by Terry Teachout, currently at the Court Theatre in Chicago. "Satchmo" is, in part, based on "Pops: A Life of Louis Armstrong," Teachout's biography of Armstrong. In both these works, Teachout notes many of the paradoxes in the relationship between Armstrong and Glaser, a friendship of seemingly great intimacy without any intimacy at all.


Armstrong, one of the greatest trumpet players who ever lived, needs little introduction. When he died in 1971, President Richard Nixon issued a statement and the honorary pallbearers included Johnny Carson, Count Basie, Bing Crosby and Merv Griffin.


But who, exactly, was Joe Glaser?


Born in Chicago, to a father who was a physician, Glaser spent time at medical school but became a used-car dealer after he found himself throwing up in the dissecting room.


In fairly short order, he became a boxing promoter known for fixing fights, then a Bronzeville saloon and club owner, and finally a hugely influential artist manager in the world of live jazz, eventually becoming president of his own agency, the Associated Booking Corporation (subsequently a partnership with the mob attorney Sidney Korshak). Along the way, Glaser became an associate of the Chicago mob, and of Al Capone himself.


During Prohibition, Glaser operated both the Sunset Cafe (a "black-and-tan" joint that had a connection to Capone) and the Grand Terrace Ballroom on Chicago's South Side. He came to represent an array of clients from Armstrong to Billie Holiday, along with Duke Ellington, Dizzy Gillespie and even the boxer Sugar Ray Robinson.


When Glaser died in 1969, many of his clients referred to him as their surrogate father. The obituary in the Los Angeles Times was full of such language. And the New York Times, using a style that now feels racist, quoted Armstrong as saying, "Asking me about Joe is like askin' a chile 'bout its daddy. That's what he is. He's my daddy." In the same article, Ed Sullivan called Glaser, "a very simple man."


Hardly. If you spend some time with the Tribune's historical archives, you can also see a different side of Glaser, who the record shows was a gangster with a penchant for very young girls. And he ran much of Capone's South Side prostitution racket.


In 1928, as a way to wriggle away from pending criminal charges of rape and physical attack, this newspaper reported, Glaser attempted to marry a 14-year-old girl in Kentucky, after essentially kidnapping her from a convent. He was initially sentenced to a prison term, but the Illinois Supreme Court overturned his initial conviction after deciding that the girl's story could not be verified. She had mysteriously gone missing. A little later, she filed for divorce, saying that Glaser had abandoned her for another.


Glaser -- invariably referenced as "notorious" in this newspaper -- shows up again in 1935 in a report about his being charged with involvement in the theft of a truckload of liquor, which subsequently turned up at the Sunset Cafe.


All of that was forgotten by 1969, it seems (by then, Glaser had become one of the most famous artist managers in the world, even organizing tours for the State Department). And little has been written about Glaser in more recent years, beyond some reminiscences by jazz musicians, most of which line up with the picture of the man that Teachout paints.


Julia Blackburn's 2005 biography, "With Billie: A New Look at the Unforgettable Lady Day," paints a similarly unflattering picture of Glaser, noting that he continuously referred to himself as "one of Billie's boyfriends." In 1947, Blackburn alleges, Glaser orchestrated Holiday's arrest on drug charges and "severely prejudiced her case by making sure she had no legal representation when she was brought before the judge." Perhaps Glaser wanted to teach his client a lesson, Blackburn speculates. Or maybe he had been under pressure to make a deal.


There's no doubt that Glaser served his clients when it came to scoring them the best deals. And, as the Armstrong archivist Ricky Riccardi has noted, Glaser was willing to take care of every aspect of his clients' lives, from paying taxes, to, well, dental bills. You could also argue that, if you were an African-American musician, an agent with mob connections was better for you than one with no connections at all.


Did Glaser love his clients? Did he care for them? Did connections mean more than exploitation?


The deeper question, perhaps, is why did it have to be this way? And, in the light of the furor over the all-white Oscars, you can argue that it is still this way, to a large extent. So what if Pops loved the devil. What choice did he have?


"Satchmo" brings up these issues -- and thus raises the question of whether one of Chicago's most influential, and under-explored, cultural figures was a populist enabler who could take a talented trumpeter from New Orleans and turn him into a global star, right out of Chicago, or whether he was an early cog in the machine that pillaged African-American talent for white profit, and pillages it still. -30-


Bob Ringwald piano, Solo, Duo, Trio, Quartet, Quintet 
Fulton Street Jazz Band (Dixieland/Swing)
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