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Overall Picture: Big band era remembered by old duffers
By: Bill Mead
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Posted by editor
Tue Nov 30, 1999 00:00:00 PST
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More and more I'm reminded that young people don't share my recollections of stuff that happened 60 or 70 years ago. You would think common sense would make me understand that but I continue to forget that half the population wasn't even alive as recently as 1973. These folks have no memory of the Korean War, the Kennedy assassinations, the Watergate break-in and other events that to an oldster like me seem to have happened just yesterday.
This age gap seldom gets in the way of my conversations with the grandkids. Although they weren't around during World War II they know enough history to carry on an interesting discussion about those days. It's when the talk has to do with cultural figures of the past and present that I realize we live in different worlds. They are shocked when I don't recognize the names of today's show business icons. I'm equally stunned to realize they don't even know there once was a big band era. Consequently I get blank stares when I mention people such as Harry James and Tommy Dorsey.
Big bands were so popular when I was growing up that I can hardly believe their heyday lasted only a dozen years, from the early 1930s through World War II. A few were around as early as the 1920s and a handful linger on today in reincarnated form. You can still book the Glenn Miller orchestra, for instance. Few of its band members were around before Glenn died but they play the Miller arrangements flawlessly. Close your eyes and it's 1943 again.
Network radio got the big band era rolling. The popularity of ballroom dancing during World War II, when there wasn't a lot of other entertainment, pushed the big bands to their zenith. After the war, younger people found other things to do, like starting families, watching television and driving everywhere with cheap gas. One by one the big bands folded, removing a host of colorful characters from the public stage including bandleaders, instrumentalists, singers, comedians and even drivers who herded these tortured souls around in spine-jarring old buses.
The big band business was not always rewarding to its participants, which gave rise to the term “orchestra bum” which was sometimes applied to musicians of mediocre talent who tootled their trumpets or clarinets in shabby dance halls when worthier citizens worked at respectable jobs.
Some big band veterans went on to fame and fortune after the ballrooms were boarded up, including Doris Day, Merv Griffin, Sid Caesar, Fred Astaire and dozens more. A few bandleaders actually retired with money in the bank, notably Lawrence Welk who never admitted the big band era was over and just went on coining money.
Another obscure figure from the big band era who laughed all the way to the bank was a guy named Horace Heidt who had no musical talent visible to the naked eye.
But he was a great showman and a financial genius. He pioneered audience participation, giving away money and showcasing amateur talent. In the midst of that excitement, who cared that the trombones were out of tune? Heidt plowed his steady earnings into California real estate and died a multi-millionaire.
I could go on with more stories like that but I can see your eyes glazing over. I keep forgetting you were born in 1974 and “American Idol” is more to your tastes. Spare me that and I'll shut up.