A Nazi Refugee in Bombay

ix9-Creighton

A recent report about Stanley Kubrick’s unmade film about the persecution jazz musicians faced in Nazi Germany reminded me of the man in white in the photo above, Creighton Thompson, who sang Taj Mahal Foxtrot, the tune from which this website and my book take their name. As regular readers of this site know, the tune was a perfect example of Bombay’s multiculturalism of the 1930s:  it had been composed by a Bombay Jewish man named Mena Silas and recorded by a band led by the African-American trumpet player Crickett Smith. Chicago-born Creighton Thompson came to Bombay from Europe, where he had been performing since 1920. But early in the 1930s, he and other African-American performers were forced out of Germany as Nazi policies forbade non-Aryans from appearing on the radio and from theatres.

thompsonBy 1934, Thompson was singing with Jos Ghisleri’s band at the Taj Mahal Hotel in Bombay, one of many people in the city fleeing Nazism (that number included a Jewish musician named Walter Kaufmann, who would compose the All India Radio theme tune). Thompson won instant acclaim. “Creighton Thompson, it is no exaggeration to say, created a sensation, for though described as a baritone, he possesses an extraordinary vocal range, extending over two complete octaves,” The Times of India enthused on October 8, 1934, shortly after the opening of the new music season. Thompson had performed light classical numbers, Negro spirituals and jazz tunes.

By the next week, he had Bombay eating out of his hand. “Creighton Thompson, than whom Bombay has never heard a better singer, presents his numbers in a quite novel way,” gushed the Times. “He first sings to his audience, then, stepping on to the dais, invites his listeners to dance to his next song. The dancers, however, become so entranced with his voice that it is usually some time before they can divide their interest between his singing and their dancing.”

Though he well knew the sting of racism, Thompson and his fellow musicians seemed to have little option by to traffic in the stereotypes of African-Americans that prevailed in Bombay and other parts of India. In November, 1934, Thompson and the other members of the orchestra put up a Plantation Gala Night, to “transport the guests into the scenery and atmosphere of the south of the United States”. Using the condescendingly racist language of the period, the Times elaborated,“From one’s earnest recollections, American negroes have been connected with cotton fields and plantations – recollections aroused by books like Uncle Tom’s Cabin and kept alive through many generations by ditties like Swanee River and Poor Black Joe etc.”

The Gala intended to evoke “stories of these old days, when the plantation hand’s chief pleasure was music, both instrumental and musical, still hold a fascination for both young and old and one instinctively connects and banjo and the singing of ‘spirituals’ with the coloured people of the Southern States, whose quaint phraseology and manner of speaking have long disappeared before the advance of education”.

Teddy1Crickett Smith, Creighton Thompson and the saxophonists Rudy Jackson and Roy Butler also put on a sketch called A Night Down South, which allowed them to sing spirituals.

After that first season, Thompson travelled with the Crickett Smith and several other musicians to Ceylon, Malaya, Singapore and Java. Upon their return in 1936, they resumed their duties at the Taj, to Bombay’s great approval. They recorded Taj Mahal Foxtrot that April.

In June, 1936, the Taj threw a ball to bid farewell to the Indian hockey team on its departure to the Berlin Olympic Games. The Mayor and the Sheriff were present, as was Karl Kapp, the German consul and several members of Bombay’s German community. Kapp said that Germany hoped that the Olympics would “act as a stimulant for peace and prosperity throughout the world”. After his speech, Creighton Thompson, the man who had been expelled from Nazi Germany, led Crickett Smith and his band to perform a special foxtrot composed by Mena Silas dedicated to the Indian Olympic team. (It must have worked: they came back with a hockey gold.)

The Red Devils in 1920, with Creighton Thompson on drums

The Red Devils in 1920, with Creighton Thompson on drums

Thompson seems to left Bombay at the end of 1936, returning to the Continent, where he’d made his career since the end of the First World War. He gone to France as part of the legendary Red Devils, who were among the first black bands in peacetime Europe, many of whom were attracted by the lack of racism in France and the French enthusiasm for black music. Thompson was a versatile musician. Though he was the drummer with the Red Devils, he soon made his reputation as a vocalist, singing gospel and classical music. His recording on the hit tune Jazz Baby, with the James Reese Europe band in 1919, had already established his reputation on the Continent [listen here]. He soon became known as “Le Celebre Chanteur Americain”.  Newspapers list performances as far afield as Paris, Berlin, Budapest, Athens, San Remo and Constantinople.

But his cozy world fell apart in October, 1939, when the American ambassador William Bullit issued a warning giving African-Americans were given 12 hours to leave Europe. “We are to repatriate all Americans to the fatherland,” Bullit said. “Take it or leave it.”

The result, said The Chicago Defender, was the wholesale exodus of hundreds of African-American men and women who had been made their lives as musicians on the Continent since the end of the First World War. “Europe is ideal,” Thompson told The Chicago Defender as he returned home. “I’d never live in any other miracle in harlemplace.” He said that if the Nazis hadn’t intervened, he wouldn’t have any reason to come back to the US because he was “doing all right and satisfied”. But suddenly, all businesses and employment were shut down and martial labour restrictions made employment contracts null and void.

Despite the trauma of being displaced from Europe, Thompson’s career didn’t lose much steam. After two decades on the Continent, he even remarried his former wife, the actress Hilda Offley, who’d refused to move abroad with him. He appeared in several landmark Broadway productions and at least in one film, Miracle in Harlem, in 1948, which also featured Offley. Thompson played a preacher named Reverend Jackson– and did a little singing too. Creighton Thompson died in 1980 in New York.

The Indian Who Discovered Ella

bardu

“Boss, this girl has something,” drummer Chick Webb’s male singer (seated on the left) told him. “You must hear her.” Webb couldn’t see the need for that. Though he cut one of the strangest sights in jazz – a drummer bent over by spinal tuberculosis, with partially paralysed legs – Webb was one of the earliest legends of swing. In 1931, by the time he was 26, he was leading the house band at the famous Savoy Ballroom in Harlem and was, in the words of his contemporaries, “the daddy of them all”. He simply couldn’t see why he needed a girl singer.

But his front man was persistent and brought over a singer he’d heard at the Harlem Opera House. The drummer was, of course, bowled over by the 16-year-old Ella Fitzgerald and she spurred the Chick Webb band on to even greater success. Young Bardu Ali, who had discovered Fitzgerald, didn’t do badly either. He would go on to lead his own band, the Bardu Ali Orchestra, and eventually open a rhythm and blues club in Los Angeles. No one could quite have predicted this for the boy who had been born Bahadour Ali, the son of an adventurous embroidery  trader from the Hoogly region in India.
more…

Bollyjazz on a Summer’s Day

This Geeta Dutt tune from the 1956 film Bhai Bhai featured music composed by Madan Mohan. It was his first hit. The film ran for 24 weeks. It would have gone on to a silver jubilee run, but a dispute between the director and the producer scotched that hope.

I’m fairly certain that the Goan trumpet player Chic Chocolate was his assistant, even though he isn’t mentioned in the credits. That would explain why the melodic inspiration for the tune, and a direct quotation that starts from 1.51, are from this classic Portuguese fado, Coimbra, performed here by the diva Amalia Rodrigues as April in Portugal. It’s a tune that Chic Chocolate would most likely have heard in his home state, which was still a Portuguese colony when Bhai Bhai was made (and would remain one for five more years).

more…

An Easter Sermon

Terrence Davin (far left, at the drums) aged 15 or 16, with Rego and his Rhumba Boys in Rawalpindi. The picture was taken in the courtyard of an Anglo-Indian home where they played for a wedding reception.

For the last few weeks, I’ve been exchanging mail with Terrence Davin, a retired pastor from British Columbia, in Canada, who spent his youth making music in north India. He tracked me down after I appeared on a radio programme in Australia. Here, this Easter weekend, is his wonderfully detailed story:

I was a musician in India for a while. I was born in 1928 in a small town named Kundian in the North Western Province of then British India.  My father, an Irishman, worked on the North Western Railway and was stationed there for a while, my mother was an Anglo-Indian.  We eventually moved to Rawalpindi where I attended the Station School for my early education and then the (co-ed) Presentation Convent for standards 5 & 6.  I finally ended up with a private tutor and passed the matriculation exam.

I started playing drums at an early age. One of my English school friends had a mini-set and I got a chance to practice on it and we would play along with the records, old 78s in those days.  Then we formed a three piece band to amuse ourselves and entertain his parents.  I played harmonica, he the drums and my brother converted and old metal bath tub into a bass.  We were about 11 or 12 years old at that time and still in school.

I made some progress with the drums I guess because when the drummer for Rhondo’s band (they played for the Telegraph Club) was ill, Mr. Rhondo asked me to stand in.  I used to go to their dances and sit close to the drummer, a Filipino, and watch him play and occasionally he would let me play for a piece or two.  He was somewhat old-fashioned but very regimented!  I guess that’s how Rhondo knew I could play even though I was just a teenager, still in school.  I began to be called to stand in quite often and what I earned for those one night gigs helped to pay my private tutor.

more…

The Myrtle Mystery Is Solved

Myrtle Watkins

Paquita

A few months ago, I wrote here about the singer Myrtle Watkins, who performed at the Taj in Bombay during the winter of 1935. She had made her reputation as a jazz singer in Europe but then, in a transformation I couldn’t quite track in the archives, seems by the late 1930s to have started performing Latin American music under the name Paquita, along with her husband, the Mexican violinist Sam Zarate.

Between November 1941 and December 1942, Paquita and Zarate cut more than a dozen discs in India, backed by the African-American pianist Teddy Weatherford, like the one above,  South American Way.  The confusion about the performer’s identify arose when a discography published in the jazz magazine Storyville said that Paquita was actually the stage name for Myrtle Watkins. But I wasn’t able to find other evidence for this, and the photos I had of Paquita and Watkins (reproduced above) were too indistinct to be able to make a clear identification either way.

more…

Still in the AIR

Preparing to moderate a conversation earlier this week with the writer-musician Amit Chaudhuri about his new book on Calcutta, I revisited his This Is Not Fusion album — and remembered that he had also recorded a tune called All India Radio.  The source material for Amit’s melody was the All India Radio theme song, composed, as this article noted last fortnight, by a Jewish refugee named Walter Kaufmann.

The music on the This Is Not Fusion album, as Amit explained in his liner notes, aims to move “towards a musical and conceptual meeting point, a space in which not only musicians encounter each other but in which musical lineages intersect and renovate themselves and become altered by this contact”.
more…

Up in the AIR


All India Radio’s caller tune has been heard by hundreds of millions of people since it was composed in 1936. Somewhat improbably, the tune, based on raga Shivaranjini, was composed by the Czech man in the middle of the trio pictured above:  Walter Kaufmann. He was the director of music at AIR and was one of the many Jewish refugees who found a haven in India from the Nazis. The violinist on the recording is thought to be Mehli Mehta, who is also in the image above.

Kaufmann had arrived in India in February 1934 and ended up staying for 14 years. Within a few months of landing in Bombay, Kaufmann founded the Bombay Chamber Music Society, which performed every Thursday at the Willingdon Gymkhana. At the performance pictured here, Kaufmann is at the piano, Edigio Verga is on cello and Mehta – the father of Zubin Mehta – is playing the violin. By May 1937, the Society had given 136 performances of works by old masters and modern composers. “Membership of the Society is open to all music lovers,” The Times of India reported. Full membership cost Rs 15 a month, but students, working women and missionaries could attend all concerts for only Rs 5 a month.

more…

Freedom’s Song

The Dave Brubeck Quartet’s world tour in 1958 was an unqualified success. As the pianist recalls in this video, fans in the Eastern Block sometimes put themselves at great personal risk to attend the concerts. Brubeck’s Indian admirers had it much easier, of course, and more than 50 years later, many remember the performances fondly. That, of course, was the entire point of the massive US State Department initiative to use jazz to win hearts and minds during the Cold War.

The quartet, who were in India from March 31 to April 13, 1958, kicked off their tour in Rajkot and performed in Bombay, Delhi, Hyderabad, Madras and Calcutta. They had been playing in Western Europe in February and March that year, after which US State Department paid for them to visit eight other countries, besides India. They returned home on May 11, after a gig in Baghdad.

There are many more photos and material about Brubeck’s India adventures at the excellent digital collections of the University of the Pacific here. They include this photo of the Quartet being felicitated by the Sangeet Natak Akademi.

(Thanks to Somini Sengupta for finding this charming piece of animation.)

Chic Chocolate’s Too Much in Love

  Long after he’d made a series of successful wartime recordings, the trumpet player Chic Chocolate became a regular at the Taj Mahal Hotel in downtown Bombay. One season, he joined forces with Chris Perry, the genius who was in the process of reinventing Konkani pop music.

Written by Walter Kent and Kim Gannon,this tune was featured in the film Song of the Open Road and earned an Academy Award nomination for best original song in 1945.

This track is from the Marco Pacci collection. The vocalist is Charles Sheppard.

Too Much in Love by CHIC & HIS MUSIC MAKERS by Taj Mahal Foxtrot

India Was a Revelation

“I’m a ‘dance’ band drummer, always was, and always will be.” That’s what 87-year-old Roy Holliday declares on his Facebook page, and the way he’s playing the drums in that clip, it’s clear that he intends to keep beating the skins for a long time to come. Holliday lives in the UK and stumbled upon the Foxtrot website because he was trying to locate Indian jazz musicians he met in the hill station of Mussoorie in the summer of 1947, months before Partition. He’d come to India earlier that year as a member of the Royal Air Force.

He’s been kind enough to let me reproduce a section from his as-yet-unpublished memoir:

“India was a revelation, from the moment we landed the air was filled with exotic sights, sounds and smells. Our first two days in Bombay were spent aboard the ship as the transit camp at Worli was not ready to receive us. We were however allowed ashore to do some sight-seeing and I even managed to escape the heat in an air-conditioned cinema. But we were not prepared for the poverty and the sight of thousands of people sleeping in the streets.

There were many other cultural changes for us and at our transit camp we became acquainted with the old colonial system which was still in operation at that time. We were allocated to billets each containing 16 beds, with two Indian servants or ‘bearers’ to clean our shoes and press our uniforms. The days here were spent in idleness, after a morning parade and breakfast we scanned the notice board to see if the daily orders contained details of our postings, and if your name did not appear, the day was yours to spend as you pleased. Many of us passed the day at Breach Candy, a swimming pool with a bar and waiters to bring ice-cold drinks to your reclining chair at the poolside.
more…

© 2013 - Taj Mahal Foxtrot. Design by Reset