A production of South Carolina ETV Announcer> Funding for this program is provided in part by the ETV Endowment of South Carolina, the South Carolina Humanities Council, the Southern Educational Communications Association, and the Southern Media Humanities Fund.

[up-tempo brass band music] ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ Rev.

Jenkins> Hey, you boys!

What are y'all doing in this box car?

Come on out of there.

You know, you could get hurt in there.

Y'all know y'all could get hurt in this boxcar.

<No> Rev.

Jenkins> Where's your mom?

Orphan> We ain't got no mom.

Rev.

Jenkins> What about the rest of you?

Come on.

Go with me.

♪ Beryl Dakers> The year was 1891 in the city of Charleston, South Carolina.

The Reverend Daniel Joseph Jenkins, a Black minister, was the son of ex-slaves.

Industrious by nature in this era of post-Reconstruction, Reverend Jenkins managed to own several small businesses.

One, a wood supply company, accounted for his early morning venture on the day this story begins.

(Reverend Jenkins, dramatized) The pitiful scene I saw at 6:00 early one cold, wintry morning will never be forgotten.

When such a wind blew, as is customary in winter, causing those comfortably clothed to shiver, I discovered half a dozen half-naked colored children standing on the city railroad track near a freight car in which they had taken shelter from the penetrating wind and cold during the night.

Beryl> A compassionate man, Reverend Jenkins took the four waifs into his own home.

He then appealed to members of his church congregation to relieve the plight, not only of these four boys, but of all homeless and abandoned Black children, for whom the state made no provisions.

Thus began the saga of the Jenkins Orphanage, the first private institution of its kind.

The group soon found a home in the old marine building.

A haven for sick and disabled seamen, it had been used as a free school for Negro children, following the Civil War.

Located at 20 Franklin Street, immediately adjacent to the city jail.

Within a two-year period, this facility became home to some 360 boys and girls.

♪ ♪ The immediate issue facing the Reverend Jenkins, how to provide for these children whom he called his "Black Lambs."

Recognizing the need to develop sustained funds, he decided to organize a childrens brass band.

Appealing to the citizenry of Charleston, he quickly obtained the necessary instruments.

Then he hired capable tutors, notably Charlestonians P.M.

"Hatsie" Logan and Francis Eugene Mikell, who instructed selected boys in the rudiments of music.

The young musicians were organized into units then taken out onto the city streets to perform.

Once the playing subsided, an appeal would be made for donations.

♪ > We were staying at my grandfather and grandmother's at 31 Legare Street.

I was quite small, my brother was even smaller, my sister was not yet.... We had a big front room upstairs and the piazza outside it, and I heard this noise.

[trumpet music] And I ran out onto the front piazza, and here were all these people... in uniform!

I don't remember the colors.

I think they were black and red, but I'm not certain.

They were playing on different instruments, and there were a couple of older people along with them.

They were just having themselves a time!

But they were tooting and banging away and having the best time.

And I found they did that fairly frequently, because Grandfather was one of those men who helped back the Reverend Mr.

Jenkins in setting up his orphanage.

Beryl> Her grandfather was Augustine Smythe, a prominent Charleston lawyer and Jenkins supporter.

> I think the early sound of the Jenkins Orphanage Band was, shall we say, spirited.

It was probably a bit rough on the ears, but it was flamboyant and highly rhythmic.

This would set people- their feet tapping, and maybe want to... join in and march along with the band.

It was, I think, an early example of the music that linked ragtime with marching music and with the early strains of jazz, if you like.

[up-tempo brass band music] ♪ The Jenkins Orphanage Band first went abroad in 1895.

(Reverend Jenkins, dramatized) In 1895, after the big storm, our orphanage building was wrecked, and we got in a debt of 1,700 dollars.

I took 18 of the orphans north to play and give entertainments.

All being green, we scarcely made our expenses, and the big debt loomed up before me.

I felt that I had rather die than return to Charleston without the money to cancel the debt.

Some good White friends met me while in a spirit of despondency and advised me to go over to England, saying that I would get barrels of money.

Nothing doubting, neither counting the cost, I leaped out without a dollar, only had half enough to pay our way, but the captain took us over anyway, expecting to make money on the ship.

In less than half hour's time after getting on the ship, we became seasick and remained so until the day before we landed.

I took the boys out on the streets, but their strange appearance created so much excitement and monopolized the thoroughfares to such an extent that we, at once, were forced to retire.

I went before the court to appeal the decision with a strong address to the court... ♪ Thank you, sir.

I am the Reverend D.J.

Jenkins, a Baptist minister of Charleston, South Carolina, America.

And I wish to make a particular application to the magistrate.

You see, sir, I have traveled a great distance to raise funds for my orphanage, the only facility of its sort, which provides for hundreds of homeless Black waifs.

I brought with me these boys who play brass instruments, my object being to let them play in the public streets, after which I will explain our cause and collect monies for the orphanage.

Could an exception be made in my case, seeing the object I have in view?

John> Because of... various acts and laws, the band weren't allowed to perform on the highways and byways.

So, they looked in danger of the whole mission being... the purpose of the mission being defeated.

Jane> My story is from my mother.

My mother talked about it, so I may not have it absolutely correct.

But, there was a law in London about this type of thing, which was not to be allowed because it interfered with traffic.

Poor Reverend Mr.

Jenkins got chucked in the chokey... and Grandfather heard about it.

They came around to him and said, "It's a good thing you're in London, because you're a lawyer and you can do something about it."

So he did something about it.

He got Mr.

Jenkins out and got permission for them to continue their playing here and there in London.

Beryl> Smythe's connections coupled with Jenkins pleas were so eloquent even the magistrate contributed to the cause.

After speaking in numerous churches, Reverend Jenkins soon collected enough money for the journey home.

[tugboat horn moaning] Back in Charleston, the Reverend faced new challenges.

With the advent of Jim Crowism, he was forced to be even more self-sufficient.

He soon established the Jenkins Industrial Reformatory, later known as the Greenwood Industrial Farm.

Here, on a one hundred acre farm, Reverend Jenkins put to work youngsters who otherwise would have been incarcerated in the state prison system.

The farm provided much of the food for the orphanage, as well as activity for the youthful offenders.

♪ Jenkins also organized several departments within the orphanage itself where youngsters could both learn a trade, and contribute to the welfare of the institution.

Carpentry, tailoring, a laundry, shoemaking, shoe repair, chair-caning, and a bakery all flourished.

When Jenkins boldly bought a printing press the orphanage soon began producing a weekly newspaper and began handling local printing jobs for various merchants and trades.

> Not only did... we publish the local news, but we put whatever national news we could get and we used to get exchange from papers like Chicago Defender , Norfolk Gentleman Guide , Pittsburgh Courier , all of the Black papers, you know, during that time.

> I should remember The Messenger quite well.

For all of us, on Thursday evenings, we were gathered in what we called " The Messenger Room."

This was really the newspaper room.

After the paper was taken off the press, we had to fold them.

And there were bags and bags lined up.

James> Well, New York area, I think we had the highest amount of subscription.

Those people would always, you know, send subscription, to keep up with what was going on at the orphanage.

And we would constantly have visitors coming in.

You know, celebrities, philanthropists, you see, to... check with the orphanage.

To see how it was running, see whether or not it was living up to what Reverend Jenkins was saying about it in the papers.

Cathy> George R. Scott was my husband's great-great-grandfather.

He was born in Norfolk County, England, in 1836.

Reverend Jenkins had traveled to New York seeking out those people who might make contributions to the Jenkins Orphanage in Charleston, an orphanage that not many people knew about shortly after Reverend Jenkins began.

It seems to me that Reverend Jenkins and Mr.

Scott sat together in Mr.

Scott's office and, according to the accounts that I've read, immediately bonded together.

He began to write in his newspaper quite regularly that the Jenkins Orphanage and Reverend Jenkins needed money.

I believe the reason that Mr.

Scott was known as the "father of the Black lambs" is because he truly adopted the orphans from the Jenkins Orphanage.

He took them under his wing as his own .

The Witness , the newspaper was very much used as a publication or a crier, if you will for contributions to the Jenkins Orphanage.

When Reverend Jenkins lost Mr.

Scott, he lost a true friend.

But he also understood how very much of an impact Mr.

Scott had on the the monies that allowed the orphanage to continue.

Beryl> During the early years of this century, the band's itinerary grew, and so did its reputation.

Throughout the USA they were known as "The Pickaninny Band," the good reverend was dubbed "The Orphanage Man."

In 1901 they appeared at the Buffalo Exposition.

In 1904 they were featured at the St.

Louis Fair and Exposition.

The Jenkins Orphanage Band was also a featured attraction in President Taft's inaugural parade.

♪ The band returned to England in 1914.

As a featured attraction at the Anglo-American Exposition.

Jeffrey> The Jenkins Orphanage Band was employed to come to England in 1914 as part of the organization of Hurtig and Seaman group, which is theatrical impresarios based somewhere in New York.

I'm sure that they were employed as a novelty.

They were, I think it was six or eight week contract.

When they arrived here in England, they were so good... that their contract was extended.

John> This was a large exposition held in West London, and the Reverend Jenkins could see that this would make an excellent showcase, I mean, presenting an American band in the midst of an international exposition.

The band came and were, again, a startling success.

Beryl> Rev.

Jenkins was so inspired by this positive response, that he sat down to write a powerful message to South Carolina's repressive Governor Cole Blease.

(Reverend Jenkins, dramatized) It is the sympathy and pity that I have for the little waifs and outcasts of my race that forces me to write to you.

The salvation of the South between the White and the Black man lies in the careful training of the little Negro boys and girls to become honest, upright, and industrious citizens.

It was never intended by our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ nor by any law of God that children should be jailed or put into the penitentiary for trivial offenses.

The schoolroom and the rod are the better masters for this training.

Teaching the Negro to read, to write, and to work is not going to do the White man any harm.

I have my band here with a party of 28 inmates.

Nine of the councilmen of London called on me yesterday and congratulated me on the work that I am doing for my race.

I feel much encouraged and believe that if boys taken from the depths of the lowest dives can be taught and trained in such a manner as to gain the respect of the people of England, how much more can be done if the Governor and lawmakers of South Carolina would simply cooperate with me?

Jeffrey> When Parson Jenkins wanted the band, his band to appear in England, he obviously needed the best, and what he did was to call back people who had graduated from his orphanage.

Because Edmund Jenkins, his son, was 20, but the others... Emerson Harper I think was 17, and some of the others were 18, 19.

They couldn't possibly have been in the orphanage.

So he pulled together the children, and that's hinted at in correspondence between the employer in New York, who said, "Bring the best of the small children."

There was no way, as far as I could see, that Parson Jenkins was prepared to bring a pickaninny band.

He was bringing a band to play for and represent the Black community of America and to do a professional job.

Not that the 11 and 12-year-olds couldn't play, but the 17, 18, and 20-year-olds could play better.

> For the Anglo-American Exposition, we left New York.

They booked us out of New York.

They first booked us in 1913.

They booked us from Charleston to 104 Jacob Street to play for the... play for, uh... the "Uncle Tom's Cabin"... "Uncle Tom's Cabin" on Broadway.

The next time they booked us to go to London, England, to play for the Anglo-American Exposition.

We had to take seven days to go there on the "Campania."

John> Their photographs taken and people were, speaking of the band in various columns in important British newspapers.

So again, the Reverend Jenkins, he chosen exactly the right venue to get the maximum publicity.

He was a very shrewd man.

Jeffrey> He must have been very impressive.

And, of course, it meant the people who were perhaps bored with what they were looking at at the exposition and say, "I can hear the band."

And off they would go to the wherever it was.

So, no, I... the Jenkins Orphanage Band may have had very small children in it, but it had a very professional approach.

George> In England, they played that big opera, we could play opera too.

but played jazz we did jazz pickaninny... and we played.

We had all the people around us.

Everybody... come see the pickaninnys, jazz nursery.

Jeffey> One thing is for certain, if you compare the schedule of the Jenkins Orphanage Band in London in 1914 with those of the Army bands who were employed, they worked just as long and played just as often.

I think it was an 11 or 12 hour day.

From the time they started playing to the time they packed their instruments up.

John> I would think the, British public were slightly mystified, but... the fact that, the Jenkins band came back to England, means that they must have been well received.

I mean, Reverend Jenkins wouldn't have, tried to, plow that territory again, shall we say, if nothing, had sprung up.

And I think, obviously the reactions of the English people were very favorable.

Jeffrey> And their contract was extended from six weeks starting in the middle of May to expire in... October or November of 1914.

And it was stopped because the First World War broke out in Europe.

Otherwise the band would have been here for six months.

[rumbling of cannons] John> Another indication of the, the skills of the Jenkins Orphanage musicians is that they were taken into Jim Europe's band, The Boat to Europe.

The service band, the 369th Regiment, came to Europe.

And again, this Black music created a sensation.

In France, particularly.

And the fact that Jim Europe, who after all, could almost scour America for talent, for Black talent... happily, willingly included members of the Jenkins Orphanage Band.

♪ ♪ Dan> Francis Mikell, the name is pronounced in different ways.

Mikell, I think acted as his right hand man.

And I suspect, although these things are not so well documented, that Mikell probably had a lot to do with really rehearsing the band and drilling it and getting it to be what it clearly was, which was really the first great ensemble.

♪ ♪ James Europe was a fascinating figure and would have played, I think, an enormously important role in American music if he hadn't, unfortunately, been stabbed by a deranged member of his post-war band.

But in 1919, in Boston, Europe was stabbed by his drummer in the band, Herbert Wright.

He wasn't aware of how seriously injured he'd been.

Actually it was a small wound in his neck, but it had actually- It was in the jugular, and so he bled to death.

He was only 39 years old.

[trumpet mournfully playing] Beryl> In an ironic twist of fate, Europe's attacker, Herbert Wright, was also a Jenkins' alumnus.

♪ ♪ Jeffrey> Edmund Jenkins was with his father's orphanage band in England in 1914.

He came back to England in October of 1914 and joined the Royal Academy of Music.

And the Royal Academy of Music in London was founded in the year 1822, which isn't old by Charleston, South Carolina standards, but it's older than many of the other colleges in England.

And he studied there for seven years.

But at the Royal Academy of Music he was the sub-professor of the clarinet.

So whoever taught him the clarinet in America must have been an extremely skilled person.

And Edmund Jenkins was an extremely skilled instrumentalist.

♪ ♪ ♪ Edmund Jenkins was studying music at Morehouse College with Kemper Harreld, who was a very skilled tutor.

A man whose, through whose, school, many, many fine musicians came.

In the jazz sense, the finest musician to come through under Kemper Harreld was Fletcher Henderson.

And Fletcher Henderson made the arrangements for the orchestras of Benny Goodman.

So the swing era is Benny Goodman's Orchestra playing Fletcher Henderson's music, and Fletcher Henderson was taught by Kemper Harreld.

So we're talking of an important individual.

Kemper Herald's favorite, pupil was Edmund Jenkins.

In England, he was able to conduct orchestras, trained, at the premier music colleges of the time.

He also, with largely West Indian friends, put on a concert of Coleridge-Taylor's music at the Wigmore Hall.

And the Wigmore Hall is a recital hall, and it's still in London.

And, that occasion was where he conducted one of the pieces was from his own pen.

And four the musicians in the orchestra, which numbered about 50 people were Black Americans who'd come over with the Southern Syncopated Orchestra.

But Edmund Jenkins was teaching, he was writing music, composing.

He was active in Black politics, of course.

And he was attempting, to fuse the European, concert music traditions with Black American, or Afro-American folk music.

Dan> Well, Jenkins, was apparently an excellent clarinetist.

And, he did appear in what is one of the earliest, British made jazz recordings.

It's the "Queen's," the Dance Orchestra, something like that.

The instigator was, at that time, a young pianist named Jack Hylton, who later became, so to speak, the "Paul Whiteman of England."

They had an enormously successful band and just developed a lot of, famous to be British musicians.

But this was his first recording venture.

And it was quite probably, the first integrated band to make records.

Jeffrey> He was a pianist and organist, and the clarinet player.

And I once had the privilege of talking to one of his colleagues, one of his friends, who told me that he was the first saxophone player of any race to lead a dance band in Paris.

And we are talking about the year 1923.

And the man who remembered that was talking to me in the year 1982.

And if people can remember that... we are talking about an individual, Edmund Jenkins, of excellent musical skills.

Edmund Jenkins wrote music and the titles show that he was proud to be Black.

"Afram," "The African War Dance."

He was proud to be from South Carolina.

He wrote an orchestral piece called "Charlestonia."

We're not talking about a piece written for 5 or 6 musicians or a seven piece jazz band.

We're talking about a piece written for a 50 to 70 piece orchestra, with three double basses and a piano and timpani and three French horns and all that sort of thing.

His obituaries in the American Press, were written by friends who'd met him during his rather sad period between 1923 and 1924, when he went back from Europe full of hopes, found that the Black Renaissance didn't include the sort of music making, the orchestral music making that he wanted to be involved in.

He returned to France, and he spent the last two years of his life based in Paris, but his death, Edmund Jenkins' death at the age of 32, cutoff a promise so early that his American friends could only talk about what might have been.

[soft music] When I look into, not only Edmund Jenkins, but Emerson Harper, who was the other clarinet player in the Jenkins Orphanage Band who were in England in 1914.

Emerson Harper's career in music making in New York was in the orchestral and radio sector.

Despite the fierce racial prejudice and bigotry of the time, He was an individual Emerson Harper, of the Jenkins Orphanage was an individual who was capable of standing up.

To the extent that Langston Hughes dedicated his autobiography, The Big Sea , to Emerson Harper and his wife.

Langston Hughes lived in New York City with Emerson Harper.

And Emerson Harper as a professional musician, a music maker, trained by the Jenkins Orphanage Band exists on the margin of jazz because he made 1 or 2 records in the jazz idiom.

But if you discard the jazz side of it and say, Black music making, orchestral music making, and Emerson Harper is one example and Edmund Jenkins another, we must ask ourselves "what happened to the other instrumentalists?"

Not the ones like Jabbo Smith or Bill Benford, who worked in the field of jazz music making.

But the others who made music of a different sort.

♪ Beryl> From the streets of Charleston, the bands- for there were several- would journey along the Eastern Seaboard as far north as Bangor, Maine, and as far south as Miami, Florida, but the major point of rendezvous was New York City.

Lionel> The first time that I heard about the band and I saw the band was in New York City.

They came up for a fundraising.

They had all these trumpet players, and they played all these high notes.

I'm amazed a guy can get up and play all these high notes on a trumpet.

Outside that, they had some great jazz musicians, you know.

> We played on street corners sometimes, we played in school, we played in churches, we played in the halls, we played with the circus.

We played all types of music... all types!

> Well, we had quite, a repertoire.

We felt that we had to have a little of everything.

And our famous things were marches.

Beryl> By 1923, the number of bands had increased to five.

There was also a vocal group, The Sewanee River Company and two girls' choirs, called the Jubilee Concert Companies.

With the aide of the Clyde Lines or by bus, they traveled along the Eastarn seaboard during the summer, converging on Labor Day at the Abyssinian Baptist Church of Harlem, which was pastored by another ex-Charlestonian, the Reverend Adam Clayton Powell, Sr.

Inez> We gave our final concert for the season at Abyssinian Baptist Church with Reverend Clayton Powell, pastor.

We had a huge crowd.

We had seemingly, everybody from the South knew of Charleston, South Carolina, knew of the Jenkins Orphanage, came out to our program.

It was really very nice, and we called it the culminating program for the year.

> I would take them on the ferry from New York to New Jersey, and they sang on the ferry.

I'd make my little speech... "These are the children of the Jenkins Orphanage from Charleston, South Carolina.

They are not bad children.

They're just underprivileged children, seeking an opportunity at life.

It is our place to try to help them, and we are doing our best toward helping them.

If you find it in your heart to be able to contribute a contribution to them, we would gladly appreciate it.

Thank you."

[up-tempo dance music] ♪ Beryl> During the '20s, a new dance phenomenon was all the rage.

Characterized by a rhythmic shuffle, this dance featured Geechee steps, which we now know as "The Charleston."

While some go so far as to credit the Jenkins showmen with actually originating the dance, none would argue that the Jenkins Orphanage Band conductors certainly served as goodwill exponents of this Lowcountry dance craze.

John> The musicians themselves, or some of them, put down their instruments and actually went out and did some steps.

I feel that this was the- the early version of "The Charleston" that many people saw.

They saw this before sheet music was ever published and recordings were made of "The Charleston."

Holland> You know, that's always been very controversial.

They say that it was started with us.

It wasn't... it was started.

It was a dance.

But, just about every band, everybody in the band could do "The Charleston," and everybody played "The Charleston."

And of course, as we played it, there would be people coming up.

And, you know, it's just one of those things, informal.

They felt like doing it.

They'd do it.

And the more they did it, the more we would... come on with it.

♪ Beryl> A ragtag group with ill-fitting uniforms and scarred instruments, the orphanage boys and girls were nothing, if not showmen.

Wherever they went, they could attract a crowd.

So impressed was DuBose Heyward when he heard the band that he enthusiastically detailed their appearance as well as their sound in his new novel, Porgy .

When "Porgy" went on tour from 1927 to 1930, included on stage was an authentic unit of the Jenkins Orphanage Band.

Singer> ♪ Won't somebody ♪ ♪ tell me where... ♪ John> Of course, "Porgy" led on to George Gershwin being fascinated by South Carolina music, and so we have "Porgy and Bess."

Just conjecture, but maybe the very fact that the Jenkins Orphanage were actually providing the music for "Porgy" may have been the, the spark that ignited Gershwin's interest.

Beryl> From Broadway popularity to unwanted baggage, as critical times enveloped the country, the Jenkins Bands found their audiences largely diminished .

Holland> I guess- jumping ahead of the story, I guess that was the downfall, because in later years, cities... start feeling that you're taking that money back to South Carolina, and they had their own problems, and welfare was a problem then.

They'd tell you very nicely, "I'm sorry, but you go on back to South Carolina and let South Carolina take care of you."

♪ Beryl> Political problems at home also plagued the orphanage.

Decimated by major fires, the Reverend Jenkins soon had to answer charges of abuse and neglect.

By the end of the 1920s, the orphanage was in dire financial need.

The Depression, which plagued the rest of the nation stalked the Jenkins Orphanage as well.

(Reverend Jenkins, dramatized) "Dear friend of the poor, nothing but our present desperate financial condition could force me to ask help at this time, when all the country is united in helping the suffering victims of the flood disaster, but we, too, must have help, or my life's work, 36 years saving, caring for, and training thousands of destitute, helpless children, must be abandoned.

My long illness and the failure of the bank in which my reserve funds were kept have placed us near starvation.

Please do read the enclosed small book and pass it on to some friend who may be glad to help us in this worthy and needy cause.

Thanking you for whatever you may do.

Respectfully, D.J.

Jenkins, President."

Beryl> On March 17, 1933, fire swept through the orphanage dormitory, Fortunately, all the children were rescued.

The building however, received major damage and the entire third floor was gutted.

This prompted a group of local White citizens to condemn conditions at the orphanage.

Asking that either the city take it over or that Reverend Jenkins be forced to move to a site in the country.

When city council met to consider this issue the chambers were packed.

A hushed crowd listened attentively as Reverend Jenkins rose to his feet.

(Reverend Jenkins, dramatized) "The Lord told me not to say anything, and He would fix it.

But after hearing these remarks, I think I had better say a few words.

If you want me to go into the country, give me $50,000 quick and let me build a big place there.

If you don't want to do that, let me run it as it is."

Beryl> In the end, Reverend Jenkins was again applauded for his good work.

It was the last major battle for the resourceful reverend, whose health had been failing.

He began to grow progressively weaker.

And on July 30, 1937, the man known across continents as "The Orphanage Man" finally slipped away.

[somber music] ♪ ♪ The first acknowledged Jenkins Band star was Cladys Jabbo Smith.

Lionel> Jabbo Smith was another one of the great trumpet players of all time.

Dan> Oh, Jabbo was phenomenal!

I mean, Jabbo... I guess his earliest, some of his earliest stuff was with Charlie Johnson's band here in New York.

The things that he made under his own name in Chicago, he obviously had, uh, caught on to what Louis Armstrong was doing, and had his own way of interpreting that.

> But he did it in a different way.

He didn't imitate Louis.

You see, this is the thing all of his life, Jabbo has been compared to Louis Armstrong, but people don't understand that it was not by the style.

He was, really should have been compared as another great trumpet player who was totally different from Louis in style.

Jabbo had his own style, had nothing to do with Louis, but he was great too.

Dan> He had tremendous speed.

My old friend Roy Eldridge who, unfortunately, isn't with us anymore, but, Roy was in a jam session, kind of a cutting contest with Jabbo in the '20s.

He always talked about how impressive Jabbo was, and Roy was another one who loved to play very fast on the horn.

That's what really impressed him about Jabbo, was the speed that he had.

♪ Lorraine> Well, it depends on what year you're talking about.

If you wanted to know about Jabbo when he was a young man and just out of the orphanage and doing his first recordings, that's what caught him at, actually, his peak, when he was 17 or 18 years old, he did make a series of records.

So his playing was unbelievable, not like any other trumpet player who was playing at the time.

It was very avant-garde.

It was like a meteor.

He was doing things on the trumpet that Louis Armstrong didn't do, because they didn't even know each other at that point.

So Jabbo was a very original trumpet player... very dynamic, very daring, and hit those high registers before that became something that lots of trumpet players did.

Dan> Even today, I mean, not too long ago, somebody played some of these old Jabbo things for Dizzy Gillespie.

And then he said, "hey, you know, I never listened to this guy when I was, you know, in my formative stage but obviously he was, way ahead of his time."

Lorraine> As a jazz, trumpet player and an artist he gave just everything in him.

His face and trumpet became one.

And his looks, I think, were quite wonderful.

So his playing is historically beautiful because he broke ground in that trumpet players were not doing what he did then.

And that's 1928, 1929.

Now, a lot of trumpet players know that today.

Dizzy Gillespie knows that Roy Eldridge, who has died too, he knew that.

So you see, Jabbo is a seminal figure into the modern trumpet.

Unbeknownst to Jabbo, he just had that kind of character, you know, he was just a wild, you know, irrepressible person and handsome.

And so he was just filled with the joy of life and his trumpet.

So he played the way he thought, wild and extemporaneous and very beautiful.

Dan> Jabbo never achieved public fame.

Maybe... I mean, if you read Milt Hinton's biography Bass Line , there's some stuff about Jabbo in there.

Apparently Jabbo was very independent and, not terribly interested in the, business aspects of music.

Lorraine> As you know, he grew up in the Jenkins Orphanage.

He was six years old when his mother inadvertently had to place him in the orphanage, although she was alive and well.

It was very difficult for her to raise Jabbo, who I think was a bit of a rascal in his day, according to his own stories.

But it was hard for her, and she was a working woman and she put him in the Jenkins Orphanage, although she stayed close to him at the time.

She never forsook him completely.

She was always there and around him.

So Jabbo became very adept at, manipulating his little trumpet and his other horns.

He played trombone as well, and euphonium.

He was a natural.

♪ ♪ Well, there was a great guitar player by the name of Teddy Bunn.

There's records on him... you can hear him, he was fabulous!

But he knew Jabbo.

If I have the story straight, he went to get Jabbo, because he heard Louis playing at this huge ball.

He said, "Jabbo, get your horn!

I want you to go down there and hear this guy, and I want you to cut him."

So Jabbo, who was not aggressive in any way, did go.

He went and played in the band, and he and Louis had this session.

Now, Louis' big number was "West End Blues," which is gorgeous to this day.

Well, Jabbo picked up and did it and just floated away, and he- For the witnesses who were there who are alive today, all say that Jabbo cut Louis.

Jabbo's been rediscovered so many times.

One of his later discoveries was for the play "One Mo' Time!"

that the wonderful young man, Vernel Bagneris, wrote from New Orleans.

> He got involved in "One Mo' Time!"

because Orange Kellen, who was our musical director, had been touring and looking for certain jazz legends that everybody collected their albums.

One of those was Jabbo Smith.

He found out that Jabbo was quite alive and living in Milwaukee.

So he brought him down and tried to get his lip back in shape.

It takes a trumpet player a few months just to get the lip to a certain point.

He came to see "One Mo' Time!"

one night while he was in New Orleans.

After, he was sitting there like a child at a circus!

He enjoyed every moment of it.

He believed every moment of it because it was his era.

He asked afterwards if he could be in the show.

And I said, "I'll find a way."

So I wrote him a part as a janitor at the Lyric.

Lorraine> I think it changed as Vernel got to know Jabbo, and Jabbo picked up his trumpet.

He got a better script than just the janitor.

Then he was incorporated into the band in New Orleans.

Then the play came to New York at the Village Gate here, where it was a huge success!

Jabbo played trumpet and was in the band and sang his two songs, his own compositions, "Love" and "Yes, Yes, Yes."

Well, the city went crazy... Jabbo was a star again!

He's now in his 70s, and the phoenix has arisen!

♪ > The title of our next number is "The Prowling Cat," and "The Prowling Cat" will be executed by, or, rather, performed by, Cat Anderson.

♪ ♪ John> The musicianship in the Jenkins Orphanage Band must have been high, if not in the very early years, from certainly 1910 onwards.

The reason I say this is because it produced star musicians like, Cat Anderson, who was one of the the, great figures in the Duke Ellington Orchestra.

Jabbo Smith, a marvelously, nimble and inventive trumpet player.

Peanuts Holland, an excellent player who had a great following both in America and in Europe, where he moved to in his later years.

Lionel> The first time I heard about the band, and I saw the band was in New York City, and also when they came up for a fundraising and, they had all these trumpet players, play all these high notes you know, with the, I'm amazed that how a guy could get up and play all these high notes on a trumpet.

John> So the fact that these men came from the the band suggests that... the standard was high because by the time they made their professional debut, they were playing wonderful music, with great technical command.

So I feel that they had the proof that the band had a high standard.

Lionel> And outside that, they had some great jazz musicians, you know.

Two of the guys, alumni from my band, the late Cat Anderson was one of the greatest trumpet players of all time.

And Leo Shepherd, he's another great player.

As I told you before, Leo Shepherd used to play so high, I thought he was playing the fiddle... ♪ John> One of the strong points of the Jenkins Orphanage trumpet playing and players is the excellent range, and this was... worked on avidly by the pupils themselves.

In the early days, it's, playing high on the trumpet is rather like the four-minute mile.

There was a sort of barrier for a long time.

Then people broke through and began to play above what we call "top C" or what was called "top C."

People thought that was just about as far as you dared go, or could go, but certainly, someone like Cat Anderson, one of the stars of the Jenkins Orphanage Band, could go at least an octave above that... I mean, at least an octave, comfortably!

He worked on this, and there was rivalry, who could go the highest?

Who could run faster, as it were?

Dan> Cat was not only an amazing high-note man, but he was a great all-around trumpet player.

He could play first, he could play anything you put in front of him.

He could growl.

He could imitate the style, and he was very useful to Ellington.

♪ ♪ ♪ Cat Anderson was an amazing guy he was also an excellent arranger and writer.

I think that training that must have been something that he got at Jenkins, because there weren't, you know, too many guys who were that well-equipped all around.

The Carolina Cotton Pickers a band that is, not terribly well known.

Although they did make records, they recorded for Vocalion in the mid '30s.

Lionel> Carolina Cotton Pickers... he came out of that band.

They came to New York and played the Apollo Theater.

I got Cat out of that band.

He stayed with me for a long time before he went to Duke Ellington.

He was a good guy.

He didn't like to hear the guys play the wrong way.

If a guy would, wasn't playing right on his horn, well, Cat would get on him, you know!

He would learn him something, though.

He'd say, "Man, you got to play like this."

You know, he would learn them.

I noticed a lot of young trumpet players I had sitting beside Cat, in the band and Cat would learn them you know.

And when they'd come out of the band they'd be better musicians from the learning they got from Cat.

> Cat Anderson was the trumpet player in the Duke Ellington Orchestra, who was famous for hitting high notes, the sort of high notes that would make most trumpeters go home and play the piano.

♪ ♪ ♪ Lionel> Leo Shepherd was the same way.

Leo was... he was a, kind of quiet guy.

He did all of his talking with his horn.

He really could talk with his horn, all right.

♪ ♪ Beryl> The list of Jenkins players and their accomplishments is legion.

Dan> The Aiken Brothers, were very important in early New York jazz.

They were a part of the recording scene in New York, in the early '20s.

Made loads of records.

I knew Gus in his later years.

He still played.

He was still playing in the '50s.

I think the last time I saw him must have been around, just around 1960.

He was another one who was an excellent musician.

Gus would be best known, I guess, for the recordings he made with Sidney Bechet, in around 1941 or so.

That's one session where you can really hear his playing.

♪ But he was also, he was in the Luis Russell Band that played, backed up Armstrong in the, in the '30s.

A very respectable career.

Another, Jenkins Orphanage alumnus, the trombonist Geechie Fields, who is not very well documented, but is important because he recorded with Jelly Roll Morton in a band that also included Tommy Benford.

And that was a band that, Jelly put together in New York in the late '20s.

And Geechie also appears in one or two later, Morton records, but that's about all.

And he kind of disappeared.

So I don't know whether he left music, but he was very good.

Tommy Benford, who was a great drummer, who recorded with Jelly Roll Morton and, then later on made a famous record date in Paris in 1937 with, Coleman Hawkins and Benny Carter and Django Reinhardt.

> And I always loved drums, and my brother always liked tuba.

We just wanted to be the sound of that school.

♪ I was one of the best in the drum section.

♪ Dan> Russell Procope was, was another, first rate all round musician.

And he was the, lead saxophonist with the Ellington Band for 25 years.

And that in itself says something.

♪ ♪ And before that, he played with the John Kirby Band, which was known as the "biggest little band in the land."

It was a sextet, which had a three horn front line.

The trumpet, clarinet and alto sax.

And they played some of the most intricate stuff that you can imagine.

A very accomplished musician, Russell Procope.

Ermit Perry, the trumpet player, is probably not so well known to the general public because he's not much of a soloist.

But he was a great lead trumpet player who played with loads of big bands, including Dizzy Gillespie.

And I think he played with Boyd Raeburn and various other bands and made lots of studio recordings.

♪ ♪ Peanuts Holland, was a terrific trumpet player, especially in his, younger years.

He was a star of the Alphonse Trent Band, which was a great band that was headquartered in Texas.

And, never really came, I mean, they did play very briefly in New York, but Trent apparently was afraid to tour too much in the East because he thought, better known bandleaders like Fletcher Henderson, Duke Ellington would steal his musicians.

And so he would rather stay in that, southwestern territory.

But Peanuts Holland, and a remarkable trombone player named Snub Mosley they were the two stars of the band.

And the few records that they made in the late '20s and early '30s you can hear Peanuts Holland... at his best.

♪ Later on Peanuts, was probably best known in the mid '40s, when he was with Charlie Barnet's band, and was featured not only as a trumpeter, but also as a singer.

And, then he went to Europe with a band that Don Redman organized in 1946, which was the first real jazz band, American jazz band to go to Europe after World War Two.

John> I think, the band encouraged showmanship as well, which is an important factor in musical presentation and, Sylvester Brisco, was an early star of the band and he could play very adeptly with his feet.

He could get his feet... taking his shoes off and actually around the slide of the trombone and play very technical pieces in that way, which is, well, it brought the house down at least the, the sidewalk went crazy when he did this.

So... the interesting thing is, I think all of the, Jenkins Orphanage musicians had a, a sort of musical presence whenever I saw them in action in later years.

I was always impressed by the fact that they got their music over boldly and with skill.

Beryl> Another Jenkins protégé was Freddie Green, master of Count Basie's percussive rhythm beat.

Although not an orphan himself, Green once sang with the band on tour.

And later he took music theory lessons at the orphanage.

> William Frederick Green, well, needless to say, I loved him very much, you know, and we were good friends.

And... he and Basie were sort of synonymous, you know?

I mean, when anyone thought in terms of Count Basie, they also thought of Freddie Green.

You know, and, Freddie spent, 49 years and 52 weeks in the band with Count Basie.

He immediately thought of, took me under his wing when he realized that I was from South Carolina, you know.

And we talked about South Carolina.

So he talked about a professor Blake, by the way, at Jenkins Orphanage, who taught him harmony and theory on Sunday afternoons when he'd go by the orphanage.

And Professor Blake evidently was one of the teachers at Jenkins.

And, he spoke of, playing with the band, and he spoke of Cat Anderson, who was the famous trumpet player who, played with Duke Ellington so many years.

And he even told me stories about Cat Anderson going out into the woods and, outside of Charleston and, and learning how to play the high notes that that made him famous, later.

♪ ♪ ♪ > Mr.

Rhythm we called him because he, he established the... the art of rhythm guitar playing with the orchestra.

In a way that no one else has been able to emulate.

♪ ♪ I usually announce to my audiences that he, stayed with the orchestra for nearly 50 years.

And then, make the statement after, "that's a long time to hold one gig."

♪ Dan> Rufus Speedy Jones was the great drummer, and he's kind of dropped out of sight.

And, but... during his heyday, he, was featured with, Duke Ellington and, also played with Basie for a while.

I knew Speedy quite well.

And, he was really completely dedicated to the drum.

♪ All the other musicians between sets they'd go across the street, there was a place called the Copper Rail that had very good soul food and, you know, nice big drinks.

And everybody would hang out there, but not Speedy.

He'd go upstairs where the, you know, like the little, musicians dressing rooms such as they were.

And he'd have his practice pad there in between sets.

He'd play on his practice pad.

So he, you know, he really was devoted to the drums and very serious.

And he had terrific, terrific hands.

A very good technical drummer.

Extraordinary.

♪ ♪ ♪ [applause] ♪ John> Well there was so little in print only the odd sentence here and there, in people's reminiscences.

I began digging as deeply as I could and located ex-members of the orchestra and, people who'd heard the band and, gradually, a picture emerged.

And then, I got to know more about the Reverend Jenkins himself and his family.

And it seemed to, to me a fascinating history.

And the, the portrait of a remarkable personality.

Holland> Reverand Jenkins was a type of person, if you ever saw him, you would never forget him.

He was, oh, every bit of six-one, two.

Tall, Black.

His facial expressions were as if you carved it out... of stone.

> Well, what I remember about him is he looked just like he look on that picture there.

He was tall.

And he would always wear a, clergy suit, with a long coat.

> He was, an African looking man, very, very, strong features, high cheekbones and, of course, very piercing eyes and very eloquent in his speech.

He was quite articulate.

> A philosopher.

He could sit down and talk to you almost on any subject.

Yet he wasn't that much of a learned man, but he was gifted.

He was gifted.

He foresaw things... how he could work things out.

I don't guess anyone knew, but he was a man of God.

He was really a man of God.

He had strong convictions.

And sometimes you have to stop and worry, wonder, you know just how in the world a man can believe that things will be all right.

And usually they came out all right.

Eugene> He was able to make very, very, effective appeals to audiences to contribute to the orphanage.

Holland> He was fearless, he didn't mind talking to anybody because he could take care of anybody, physically.

But I'm sure that wasn't his motive.

But if he wanted something, he would ask for it.

And he would tell you, "I've got my lambs- He'd call them my "Black lambs" down there and they got to be fed."

"And I don't have the money to feed him.

And I'm coming to you Now, you give me the money to feed my lambs."

Eugene> I might say also that he, he also inspired many of the parents in the group to send their children to the orphanage.

James> In Cottageville, where I was born, the schooling we got there was only through the fifth or sixth grade, and I got through that.

There was no where else for me to go.

No school, any higher was provided for Blacks.

We had no transportation going to... Charleston other than a logging truck.

We used to call it cross tie, I sat on the back on the cross ties.

My mother sat in the cab with the driver.

So we went to Charleston.

> Reverend Jenkins had a tendency if a boy came, a new boy came into the orphanage... It was a funny thing, what I'm going to say.

But he would take that boy, "Come here."

Bring that boy to him, or the girl for that matter.

And he'd just take his hands and go all over that, child's head.

Seeming as if he was feeling for something.

"You go to the band room.

You go to the printing office.

You go to the farm."

The various things- And those children would fit into whatever area he sent them to.

He was a wise old man.

James> And he took me downstairs in the printing department.

We had two Linotypes there and the printing press, and there was two job press and then the paper press.

He said, "Sonny, one day I want you to run this place."

That was... you know, amazing to me, because I had never seen printing before.

When he died in 1937, I was managing that shop.

Eugene> Well, I attribute that to the talents and the insight and the wisdom of this man.

But he also, as I said, commanded the respect of the fathers of the city.

Those bankers and lawyers, were very supportive of Reverend Jenkins because of the work he was doing.

He was taking care of the little poor Black children, which the city did not provide for.

There was a White orphanage, but there was no orphanage for Black children until Reverend Jenkins established his orphanage.

Sarah> We've had children to be sent to us from all over, especially from North Carolina... New York, Philadelphia, you name it, and children were sent there.

You see, Mr.

Jenkins had something that those children's parents wanted them to have, and that was the music.

♪ Beryl> Today, there are no bands to support the reduced number of children now entrusted to foster care.

The orphanage has a new mission, but the legacy of the Jenkins Orphanage Band lives on in the musical heritage it inspires.

♪ ♪ Lonnie> I would get to know the guys by hanging around the band.

I would hold the music for them because they were playing on the street... they had no stands and stuff like that.

So, people would hold music and I would hold the music and I'd feel so good.

These guys were exceptional musicians.

Anybody that came out of that orphanage at that time, they really played.

♪ > There was a time, Beryl, that the Northerners, black and white, thought that all the musicians from Charleston, South Carolina, were good even if they weren't.

Because of being preceded by the Jenkins Orphanage history.

Even if you had nothing to do with it, they assumed that if you were in Charleston, you'd seen the Jenkins Orphanage Band, you got something from it.

That's still true today.

♪ ♪ ♪ [cheering and applause] ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪