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Observations of An Ex-Cop in La La Land |
 ANDY MURCIA |
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Valentine |
 Chet Baker in a romantic mood |
From a passionate fan:
Chet Baker's music endures
the tragedy of his short life
of TheColumnists.com
I'm a passionate music lover, in love with being in love. I love all kinds of quality music from R&B to Opera and everything in between.
Music was always “on” in our home, no matter the source--recordings, radio, or Mama Rose and my four sisters harmonizing the old standards. It was a fun place to grow up, and I know a lot of music got into my head and heart as a result of it all. Because the 1950s were my teen years, I did my share of listening to the rock & roll hits of that era. I enjoyed Elvis, Little Richard, and all the do wop groups, but I was really drawn to jazz. My father had a good record collection, so he was the first to expose me to jazz.
Today my wife, Ann Jillian, shares my love for music and we also expose our son, Andrew, to quality music. A perfect afternoon for me at our home is when I play “DJ” with my collection of music for my family. And you might say I kind of favor America’s own art form, Jazz!
Here’s how I really got permanently hooked on Jazz: About 1957, I bought a Miles Davis recording that incorporated his earlier recordings from 1949. At first listening, I knew I was in for a new, very hip, musical journey. My father had started me on big band jazz, but I quickly became interested in this innovative, quieter form for the small jazz ensemble. The Davis tracks like “Jeru,” “Boplicity” and “Move” were cool sounds for my virgin ears.” Listening to Miles gave me a feeling of “superiority” over my fellow teen peers. I can’t tell you how much cooler I felt than my pals who were still trying to figure out which one was “Dion” among all those “Belmonts.” (That Miles Davis album is still available today on the CD called “Birth of The Cool.”)
In the 1980s, Ann and I
were regularly invited to “movie night” at the home
of Sammy Davis, Jr., and his wife, Altovise. (You bet I’m
name-dropping, we treasured Sammy’s friendship, and may
God bless him). These were great evenings, Sammy sometimes cooked
tasty treats, he loved to play “bartender” and we’d
all sit around enjoying great conversations with this genius.
Sammy, minus the jewelry, dressed in wash pants & slippers
was still a very cool, down to earth cat. It was on one of these
movie nights that we were introduced to the fine actress, Cicely
Tyson and her husband: MILES DAVIS!
Can you imagine my excitement? I can’t tell you anything
about the first run movie Sammy screened that night, but I can
tell you every move that Miles made. I sneaked a look at his
eyes when he removed his shades for a few seconds--and they looked
happy. I’d like to tell you everything he said, but he didn’t
speak much and when he did, it was in a whisper. Was it a throat
problem or did it have something to do with his previous heroin
addiction? I don’t know. When Sammy introduced me to Miles,
we shook hands, and I heard a sound come out of Miles that may
have been either; “Ohh,” “Hey” or maybe “All
right.” His hand was cold, almost clammy, so perhaps he
wasn't healthy even then. His wife did most of the talking for
this man, who spoke plenty enough for me with his horn.
For me, that was like a journey to the headwaters of the Amazon because that Miles Davis “Birth of The Cool” recording had launched me on a real voyage of discovery in the world of jazz. Back then I learned all the names of the musicians in his band and started buying their records, too. This is where I discovered the great reed man Gerry Mulligan. Through Mulligan I eventually found my main man in jazz: Chesney Henry Baker. You know him better as Chet Baker, the great trumpet artist who also sang like he played--silky smooth.
Chet Baker was born in Yale, Oklahoma on December 23, 1929. About 1940 his family moved to Glendale, California. While he never learned to sight-read music well, his ear and pitch were gifts from God. Chet played and sang with so much feeling. Down Beat Magazine named him the “New Jazz Star” of 1953. From all I’ve learned about Chet, he was a “go along Cat,” who was not only admired by the white jazzmen, but the hip black musicians were equally knocked out by him. In fact, it was the great Charlie “Bird” Parker who first hired Chet for a major gig in Los Angeles. Bird was conducting auditions for a trumpet man, and upon hearing Chet play, he immediately stopped the audition and hired him on the spot. Chet went on to play with all the great jazz artists of his time.
Chet played or sang on
well over 200 albums in his all too short life. I've listened
to every Baker recording I could find, but I haven't found them
all yet. It may only be my "police intuition," but
I believe Chet was a sensitive, shy man with a beautiful dream
about what love should be. I agree with his dream.
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romantic image is captured on the cover of this CD. |
Chet had arguably the most romantic vocal chops in the business. You’ve only to listen to his singing the great lyrics on “My Funny Valentine,” “You’re Mine, You” or my favorite, “Easy Living,” to appreciate this view of him. I’m not sure if Baker ever found “his” love dream, but I know he was married to Carol Jackson, a beautiful English show dancer whom he met in Italy in 1960. Carol & Chet had three children--Dean, Paul and Melissa. Carol says he liked cars and was a fast, but good driver. She remembers him as a quiet, bashful, good-hearted man, generous to a fault. She recalls he once gave their last $10 to a homeless guy. Carol knew Chet’s music came first. It was his everything. She knew he belonged to the music and the road. Only Carol knows their intricate love story.
For a man who sang so beautifully about loving another, it was sad to see how little he loved himself. He let himself in for a life of woe that included some really tragic stuff: His heroin addiction, his time in various prisons, the time he was beaten so badly that his teeth were literally kicked out of his mouth. Chet could hardly play the horn for several years after losing his teeth. Rumors flew as to who did this to him, but nobody was ever convicted. Chet was also a poor businessman who was cheated out of a lot of his recordings royalties, and was even on public welfare for a brief time in 1970.
Chet Baker’s life came to an abrupt end on May 13, 1988, in Amsterdam, Holland, when he allegedly fell from a high hotel window. Rumors suggested he jumped while still others persisted that he was pushed. Ironically, during that last year of his life, he was working again and off welfare. They even made a documentary movie of his life called “Let’s Get Lost.” It showed Baker on his last legs. His leading man looks were gone, starkly convincing evidence of what drugs can do to a human being. What a sad finish for the man whose best-known song probably was the sweet romantic ballad “My Funny Valentine.”
The body of work that Chet Baker left behind for all of us to enjoy is immense. Chet played with intelligence, logic and always with feeling. He was the master of understatement. He intuitively knew when there should be silence or his well-chosen notes. If Chet Baker’s life had a redeeming quality beyond that of his loving family, it must be in the softly blown lines of his horn and the smooth tenderness of his vocals. Chet stated he gave “all he had” to his music, as he felt he owed that to the other musicians and to his listeners. He hoped it was enough. I believe it was more than enough. I think lots of others feel the same way. Jazz critics, for instance, who voted Chet Baker into Down Beat Magazine’s “Hall of Fame” in 1989.
So if you're looking for a truly romantic Valentine's Day treat for someone special, here’s my suggestion: Pick up a couple of Chet Baker CD’s, add the roses, chocolates, chill something wet, lower the lights, and get set for a delicately tender, sensual musical evening of love.
© 2002 by Andy Murcia. The CD cover at the top of the page is from the Riverside Records "Original Jazz Classics" CD called "Chet Baker: Chet." Photo by Lawrence Shostak; design by Paul Bacon. The CD cover in the body of the column is from "The Best of Chet Baker Sings" from Pacific Jazz/Capitol Records. Photo credit: William Claxton.
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