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| Caquita Monique sings, Ekpe Abioto plays the djembe drum, and Deborah Gleese Barnes strokes the kalimba during The Jimmie Lunceford Jamboree Jazznocracy Concert at the House of Mtenzi. (Photo by Wiley Henry) |
The melodious jazz music that Jimmie Lunceford made famous during
the swing era was buried with him in 1947 at historic Elmwood Cemetery in
Memphis. The alto saxophonist and bandleader was only 45 years old when the
music went silent.
Silence pervaded throughout the decades and Lunceford faded into
obscurity – until an artist, musician, activist and historian discovered the
maestro’s musicianship and his integrality to swing music nearly sixty years after
his death.
In late October, however, Ronald Herd II was quite perturbed that
his 10-year effort to raise awareness of Lunceford had largely gone unnoticed and that he wasn’t
getting much traction.
He’d spoken to an intimate group of Lunceford devotees on Oct. 28
at the House of Mtenzi in Midtown Memphis minutes before the start of the
Jimmie Lunceford Jamboree Jazznocracy Concert, which he produced primarily singlehandedly.
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| Jimmie Lunceford |
The concert was part of the first annual seven-day Jimmie
Lunceford Jamboree Festival that Herd – along with his mother, Callie Herd – founded to
honor the legacy of the late extraordinary bandleader in order to secure his place
in the annals of history and the world of jazz music.
He’d taken to social media to amp up visibility and awareness, which
included radio interviews and news stories highlighting Lunceford’s
contributions to Memphis and the music that inspired other jazz greats, such as
Duke Ellington, Glenn Miller and Count Basie.
“After this week people probably will have heard more about Jimmie
Lunceford than any time in the last 20 years, or even before then,” Herd told
the group prior to the concert. “For a black man who had done so much, he
deserves the honor.”
Since Herd had captured the attention of his audience – at times
while punctuating his monologue with stinging rebuke – he encouraged those not
already onboard to help bring Lunceford’s legacy back to life.
“He was the epitome of greatness,” said Herd, chief
executive artivist of The W.E. A.L.L. B.E. Group Inc., a nonprofit
organization. “He was the real
king of swing – not Benny Goodman. Glenn Miller said it best: ‘Jimmie Lunceford
has the best of all bands. Duke [Ellington] is great, [Count] Basie is
remarkable, but Lunceford tops them both.’”
The “artivist” was candid during his presentation of Lunceford and his
exploits in music. “He was the number one band of choice for African Americans
in the county. They called him the Harlem Express,” he said.
“Everybody
wanted to be Jimmie Lunceford because he had this distinctive two-beat sound. Normally
the other bands [during that era] had a four-beat sound,” said Herd, noting
that Stax Records, Hi Records, and even Three-Six Mafia had emulated
Lunceford’s two-beat rhythm.
A student of history, Herd compiles data and information and
stores them in his memory bank. When the need arises, he retrieves them at a
moment’s notice to express a point or to educate those who may be barren of
facts.
Like, for example, James Melvin Lunceford (his name at birth) was
born July 6, 1902, on a farm near Fulton, Miss., and learned to play several
instruments as a child. He matriculated at Fisk University in Nashville and
arrived in Memphis in 1927.
An accomplished musician by then, Lunceford took the job of
athletic director at Manassas High School, where he organized a student band called
The Chickasaw Syncopators. He later changed the name to The Jimmie Lunceford
Orchestra.
The Orchestra soon rose to fame playing venues like The Apollo
Theater in New York and The Cotton Club in Harlem, also in New York. He also
toured extensively in Europe. But Lunceford was more than the music that he
loved and shared with the world.
“He saw music as a rite of passage for young black boys and girls [to
become] men and women,” said Herd. “He took the time to invest in people.”
Education and cultural awareness are essential to understanding
Lunceford and the “excellence” of African Americans pursuing their dreams, he said.
“You must know where you come from and who your people are,” said
Herd.
A brass note was dedicated to Lunceford on Beale Street in 2009.
