Click on the headline to link to a YouTube film clip of Artie Shaw and the gang performing, well, performing be-bop big band ballroom music.
CD Review
the only big band cd you’ll ever need, various big bands, BMG Music, 2000
He, spiffed up to the nines after a hard day at the garage, a hard day working on the very plush automobiles of the Mayfair swells who had encamped in old Bar Harbor for the summer, was in the mood. In the mood for love, in the mood for adventure, hell, what he was really in the mood for was some break-out be-bop big band music down at the Wanderlust Ballroom just before the Ellsworth line. Yes, Harry Hatton, was keyed up like a lot of guys that year, guys just getting their first or second pay checks after years of hard-scrabble on the road, on the bum, on the, well, on whatever was wrong about America in that good year, 1940. And Harry, like that ton of other guys in Bar Harbor, was keyed up because somehow, some way through some Mayfair swell connection the management of that stardust ballroom had obtained the big band musical services of Artie Shaw and his gang AND Mr. Benny Goodman and his quartet of the hour for two nights only to be-bop the night away. Yes, Harry Hatton was keyed up.
Ah, forget that eye-wash about being keyed about that mad hatter music, although that was a definite plus because Harry was not spiffed up to the nines for some abstract principle but to win the favors of his date, Miss Delores LeBlanc. And Miss LeBlanc was well worth getting spilled up to the nines about. She was this foxy little transplanted French-Canadian brunette frail that he had run into a few weeks back down at the Olde Saco Ballroom when Benny Goodman and some quintet AND Tommy Dorsey and his huge band had held forth. They had talked and agreed to have another date whenever he/she had the time and some big name band was in the area.
Agree to meet or not, Harry had had a hard time convincing Delores to make the journey to Bar Harbor because, and this will tell you all you need to know about dames, and maybe dames and big bands too, she had already heard Benny Goodman at Olde Saco and was, I quote, sick of him and his two-bit clarinet. But the draw of Artie Shaw was too much and Miss Delores LeBlanc was now on the arm of Mr. Harry Hatton, late of Bar Harbor, as they entered the foyer of the Wanderlust Ballroom. They both agreed that this place looked nice, nice lights, nice tables, nice bar, nice waiters, nice bandstand, nice and looked a lot better than that two- bit place where two- bit (Delores’ term not Harry’s) Benny Goodman blasted the seawall night.
That last remark of Delores’, that totally uncalled for remark about the reigning king of swing (in his book anyway with Sing, Sing, Sing and Buddha Swings blowing him away every time he heard them) had him nervous. Although she was a fox, no question, as the eyes of guys, of every guy with eyes (and maybe a few without them), single, or tabled up with a she, confirmed, she was, well, touchy. The ride up along the coast from Olde Saco on bloody traffic light on every block it seemed Route One has mussed things up. It was only after that first settling down drink and some nice music playing from the jukebox via the PA system before the main events that calmed her down.
Harry remembered latter that Duke’s
It Don’t Mean A Thing and a slinky version of
Cherokee settled her down a bit. Or maybe it was the drinks. When Benny came on with a hot version of Benny’s
Stompin’ At The Savoy she started swaying, swaying gently with the rhythm. And Harry had swaying thoughts too. She made Harry laugh when she said maybe he was a four-bit band leader with that sultry smile of hers learned, well, learned from a hundred generations, learned. By the time Artie Shaw and the boys came on to the sound of
Begin The Beguine she was ready to dance, and dance close. She then whispered in his ear this little tidbit-“We are going to your place after this, right?" Right. Yes, indeed, all you ever need in this wicked old world is a big band.
