(This
review appeared in the Sunday Show section of The
Chicago Sun-Times on April 23, 1978.)
Duke
Ellington in Person: An Intimate Memoir
By Mercer Ellington with Stanley Dance. Houghton Mifflin.
Duke
Ellington’s private life might be none of our business, but
our curiosity about him is insatiable. It seems that the more
we know about a great artist, the better we understand why
we ordinary folk are different.
Now
we can see the Duke through the eyes of his only child, Mercer,
with a little help from Stanley Dance, Duke’s friend and confidant
for some four decades. Dance undoubtedly helped Mercer reconstruct
portions of Duke’s career, but this is really Mercer’s book
because what leaps off almost every page is his endless devotion
to his father.
Born
March 11, 1919, when Duke was only 20, Mercer continues to
live in his father’s shadow. He always will. An old proverb
tells us that "happy is the child whose father goes to
the devil." Duke went the other route. Mercer’s life
hasn’t been easy, but his own sharp intelligence and considerable
musical talent, a fine sense of humor, and a deep and honest
admiration for his father have enabled him to prevail.
He
writes about Duke with a mature blend of candor and discretion.
"Duke Ellington would make certain he remained on top
regardless of whom he knocked down," Mercer reveals,
"including me." Moving in the strictly adult world
of jazz during the 1920's and 1930's left Duke with little
time to be with his son. "I was his child; I was born;
I would be taken care of, clothed and fed; I would grow up
to be, probably, a musician; and I would talk to him. But
in 1943, when he saw me in uniform, he realized that I might
not be in existence much longer."
Duke
worried as much as any parent during the war. A few years
earlier, Duke had not given Mercer enough money for music
lessons. But when Mercer was playing with Sy Oliver’s band
in the Army, Duke made sure they had plenty of good arrangements
and helped out in other ways. Mercer was on his own again
after the war. He struggled with his own orchestra; Duke didn’t
like the idea of two Ellington bands. Later he encouraged
Mercer to become a disk jockey in New York—hosting a Duke
Ellington show.
In
1964, Duke asked him to play trumpet and be road manager of
the band, mainly so Mercer could straighten out the band’s
terrible finances, perhaps to be near each other during Duke’s
last years, and maybe to groom Mercer to lead the band someday.
At last, father and son became friends.
Women
loved Duke Ellington, but only five influenced him. Mercer
details Duke’s relationships with Mercer’s mother (whom Duke
left in 1930 but never divorced), an actress, a dancer, a
showgirl, and a chanteuse. Except for Duke’s own mother and
sister, whom Duke cherished, Mercer feels his father "had
a basic contempt for women. He spent so much time celebrating
and charming them, but basically he hated them."
Mercer
might be saying more about his own reaction to Duke’s romantic
involvements than about Duke’s feelings, because his assessment
is so strongly contradicted by Duke’s songs and demeanor.
The late jazz critic Ralph Gleason once wrote, "Duke’s
music was as much about love and about ladles as it was about
black culture." Gleason related how Duke would describe
a Satin Doll as one who "was just as pretty inside
as outside" and a Passion Flower as one "better
enjoyed than discussed." Duke left Warm Valley
to our imagination. Sophisticated Lady, Mercer tells
us, refers to his own mother, to "her depressed state
of mind and consequent drinking after their breakup."
At
the beginning of his memoir, Mercer quotes his best friend,
Bob Udkoff: "Hate is such a luxurious emotion, it can
only be spent on one we love deeply." That sums up Mercer’s
feelings about his father—and perhaps Duke’s toward women.
Ellington
buffs will savor Mercer’s (and Dance’s) anecdotes about all
of the famous instrumentalists who played with Duke’s band.
A number of tales about tenor saxophonist Paul Gonsalves illustrates
Duke’s respect for his sidemen. Gonsalves could play brilliantly
when he was straight (and often when he wasn’t), but eventually
his addiction to alcohol and drugs made him unreliable. Mercer
made sure the band got six reed players instead of the usual
five in case Gonsalves got lost.
Shortly
before Duke died, Gonsalves, dressed in his banker’s best,
visited Duke in the hospital. "Who is that?" Duke
kidded. A few weeks later Gonsalves died in London. The news
shattered Duke, who only had a little while left himself.
Four
years have elapsed since Duke’s death on May 24, 1974. Mercer
now leads the Duke Ellington Orchestra. His son, Edward Kennedy
Ellington II, plays guitar with it. It is an excellent band
in its own right, playing many Ellington compositions and
arrangements. But it is Mercer’s band, not Duke’s.
And
this is Mercer’s book, not Duke’s. In its own way, this book
offers the definitive Duke Ellington story. Let’s hope Hollywood
doesn’t touch it.
But
the real Duke Ellington story is in his music. Recordings
are now widely available of Duke’s music from his early years
at the Cotton Club to his last recorded concert at Eastbourne.
If you want to know Duke Ellington, all you have to do is
listen.
Postscript:
Mercer Ellington died on Feb. 8, 1996.
George
Spink
Los Angeles
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