If President-elect Barack Obama wants to make a bold cultural statement—one that resonates deeply with his autobiography and with the legacy of his adopted hometown, Chicago—there's a compelling way to do it:
Teach the White House to swing (again).
That's what President Jimmy Carter did in spring 1978, casting the unique brilliance of a presidential spotlight on a distinctly American art form. Carter convened a galaxy of jazz luminaries at the White House, to spectacular effect. Eubie Blake (at 95), Dizzy Gillespie, Pearl Bailey, Teddy Wilson, Max Roach, Louie Bellson and other giants performed jubilantly on the White House South Lawn, basking in the kind of official recognition jazz richly deserves but rarely receives. Anyone who follows jazz never will forget the sight of a wheelchair-bound Charles Mingus, a musical icon then and now, weeping openly as President Carter praised him at 1600 Pennsylvania Ave.
"That was the best jazz concert the White House has ever seen," Carter told Time magazine last year, and he could be believed because he wasn't running for anything and already had his Nobel Prize.
Even if Carter were looking for votes, he surely had sewn up the global jazz constituency that sweltering June night, when he vocalized with the great Gillespie. The tune? What else? Gillespie's "Salt Peanuts," the ideal jazz anthem for a former peanut farmer.
After the last riffs, Gillespie leaned toward Carter and said, "Mr. President, I have one question. Could you take it on the road?"
Carter laughed and, without missing a syncopated beat, responded, "After tonight I may have to!"
But Carter struck a more meaningful note at the end of the evening, when he told the illustrious musicians, "What you have given America is as important as the White House and the Capitol building." It was music to any jazz lover's ears.
President Bill Clinton picked up on the theme, inviting jazz virtuosos back to the South Lawn 15 years to the day after Carter's soiree. This time, icons such as Joe Williams, Dorothy Donegan and Illinois Jacquet shared the spotlight with a new wave of emerging masters: Wynton Marsalis, Jon Faddis and Joshua Redman among them.
Once again, the musicians were galvanized by the experience. Pianist Donegan, a native Chicagoan who did not grow up in luxury, swore she would title her memoirs, "From the Out House to the White House."
And once again, a sitting president sang the praises of jazz.
"It's especially important that we should be together here in America's house to celebrate that most American of all forms of musical expression, jazz," Clinton told the crowd. "Jazz is really America's classical music. Like the country itself, and especially like the people who created it, jazz is a music born of struggle but played in celebration."
There haven't been any White House nights quite like that in the last eight years, which means President-elect Obama—who has said he's partial to John Coltrane and Frank Sinatra—finally could heat up the place again. Indeed, it would be difficult to imagine a president better suited to re-igniting jazz at 1600 Pennsylvania Ave., and not because he's African-American.
More specifically, Obama's mixed-race heritage reflects the genome of jazz, which first blossomed when multiple cultures and classes converged in New Orleans at the turn of the previous century. No other American metropolis brought largely self-taught black musical geniuses (such as Louis Armstrong) and their formally trained Creole counterparts (such as Jelly Roll Morton) into such proximity.
In effect, the black oral tradition merged with more formalized European methods and instrumentation; the rhythms of West Africa linked up with the harmonies of Bach, Beethoven and Brahms. A riotous new sound shook New Orleans, then Chicago, then the world. Here was a buoyantly improvised music as freewheeling as America itself, and as democratic too. For in jazz, each musician stands up and has his (or her) say in solos, before rejoining the rest of the band toward the common good.
No city (New Orleans included) has given more to jazz than Chicago, the place where Armstrong, Morton and generations thereafter have launched their international careers. If Obama hopes to bring the sound of Chicago and the spirit of cooperation to Washington, he could start with jazz—and not simply by holding another grand concert on the South Lawn (though that would be fine).
Better still, Obama could insist that the next chairman of the National Endowment for the Arts builds on the achievements of outgoing Dana Gioia, who expanded the Jazz Masters program with national tours, educational initiatives and radio programming.
Further, Obama could ensure that jazz greats, including Chicago's, bow at the White House when heads-of-state come to call. Let them hear what American musical ingenuity sounds like.
Perhaps Obama even could persuade the Kennedy Center Honors to pay belated attention to America's jazz creators. Incredibly, none has won since Benny Carter, in 1996 (unless you count classic-pop vocalist Tony Bennett, in 2005).
Any recognition for jazz from an Obama administration would have a galvanizing effect on the art form while expressing, in music, Obama's message of hope and unity.
At a time when credit is tight and budgets are tighter, why not loosen things up a bit—with jazz?
http://www.chicagotribune.com/entert...71,print.story
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