Pepper Doings, April 2021

 

Before signing off on Chapter Three, my account of

Adams’s experience in the US Army, I decided to send

my final draft to a reader for his feedback. Although this

is one of my shortest chapters, I think I’ve been dealing

with this material for such a long time that perhaps I’ve

lost some perspective. Hopefully he’ll agree that it’s in

OK shape and, apart from some minor changes, I can

finally put it to bed.

I started a demanding full-time job five weeks ago and

my progress on the book has been slowed down. I still

think I’m on track to publish in September, but the most

important thing is to ensure that it’s in the best shape

that I can muster.

I’m excited to report that a very significant cache of

Pepper tapes and interviews have recently been trans-

ferred to a producer/musician who is restoring them,

releasing some of it to the public, and making all of it

available to me for study. Although I can’t yet reveal

the source of the material or its newfound recipient,

I’ve been aware of the collection for over thirty years

and am so excited that I’ll soon have a chance to

analyze the material and consider it for inclusion in

the biography. Typically, all of Pepper’s interviews

yield gems, so it’s likely that I’ll discover something

new for the book. 

The Adams discography has been updated with new

discoveries: https://www.pepperadams.com/JoyRoad/DiscoUpdates.pdf 

Yesterday I had a wonderful conversation with the

eminent blogger Michael Steinman. He’s perhaps the

first person who really understands what I’ve tried to

do with the narrative structure of the biography, and

who has the breadth of knowledge about the subject

to truly grasp how I tried to diverge from the typical birth-

to-grave, tragedy or romance, cliched approach. After

our call, he wrote this wonderful blurb that I’ll be using

as advance praise

(https://www.pepperadams.com/Reflectory/AdvancePraise.pdf):

Most jazz biographies are predictable chronologies of gigs

and recordings, friendships and rivalries, kindness and cruelty.

We know how they start; we know how they end. Carner’s

admiring multi-dimensional portrait of Pepper Adams is a

delightful corrective. Irresistibly, it floats from story to story.

I couldn't wait to find out what happens next. Even if readers

know Pepper only as a bracing, lovely sound, before we are

ten pages in we are happily encountering him as a fully-

rounded person, reading Yeats, eating ribs, impatient with

cliche, searching and finding wherever he goes. It takes lung

power to play the baritone saxophone: this biography has the

breath of life.   

 

– Michael Steinman

Author, Jazz Lives blog

 

Next weekend I’ll get a jump on Chapter Four corrections.

Happy springtime. 

Biographical Excerpts

© Gary Carner. Copyright Protected. All rights reserved.

It's Labor Day Weekend but it seems that my Pepper work never takes a break. It's what centers me and pulls me through each day. There's just so much work to do! I expect that tomorrow will be no different. Maybe that's a true indication that this project is a real labor of love?

I'm excited to report that I'm on the verge of finishing the first half of Pepper's biography. Since my early April lectures in Utah, I've been on fire, much to my surprise. I wasn't expecting to begin writing upon my return home. The thing that I find so gratifying is that the writing has flowed out of me, sometimes effortlessly. Perhaps it was just the right time to start? That's not to say that writing is ever easy. Much like scupture, the craft of writing mandates the continuous polishing until it reaches its final form. Getting ideas out might be fun but editing is always arduous.

It's because of my extensive reading, writing and note-taking over the last couple of years that I've been able to move so quickly in the last five months. In about a month from now -- hopefully in the next blog installment -- I'll  be able to report that Pepper's life from 1930-1955 is complete. I'm now at around seventy pages and I expect that I'll be at around 100 pages in a few weeks. That implies around a 200 page biography, then John Vana's musicological analysis will make up Part Two. I expect great things from him!

Chapter 3 of my part has several components. The first section is about Pepper's time in the US Army. Then I discuss his transition to civilian life in 1953-54, with sections on the Blue Bird Inn and the World Stage Theater. What follows that is a three-part history of Detroit, then a short history of Detroit jazz (1928 or so through the late 1940s). The chapter concludes with Pepper's time in Detroit in 1955, including a section on his mother, Klein's, and the West End Hotel.  

Once I get the first half done, I'm going to take a break to consider how I want to treat the second half of his life. Pepper hated cliches and I feel that, in respect to him, a chronological narrative is far too predictable. I find it boring too. I've avoided such a rendering thus far by darting around thematically. Yet there's a limit to how much you can move about and not confuse the reader. Some biographical theorists recommend reverse engineering. That is, inventing the ending first, then figuring out how to get there. I didn't need to do that at all because my Prologue in some sense "ruins" the ending. It gives me cover because in it I intentionally divulged the broad strokes of Pepper's life to make a case for why anyone should care to read the book. The Prologue has, in a sense, liberated me to at least consider some kind of experimentation with the narrative. 

Yesterday on my two Facebook pages I included an except from the book regarding Pepper and Charlie Parker. Here's two more excerpts from the book:

Pepper’s bunk was at the edge of the camp. Across the street in an empty lot Adams, Kolber and a few of their buddies planted marijuana. “We set up a schedule,” said Kolber. “We marked down everybody’s name to take turns going out. We had a water can and a big hat. We had a schedule made up to water it.” In the early 1950s, smoking marijuana was still somewhat of an arcane activity. In a glorious touch of irony that created more than a few snickers and knowing winks, the guys in Pepper’s platoon would roll a joint and then ask the military police on the base for a light. The MPs had absolutely no idea what was going on.

“Whenever we took physical training, he was beautiful,” said an amused Kolber.

When we had to jump and meet our hands above our head, he would never jump. He said, “Listen, I can play, that’s what I’m here for in this band, to play, and I can’t do all these other things.” He says, “It doesn’t take that much physical energy to strap a baritone sax around your neck.” He told the sergeant that. The officers always used to call him into the office so I never heard too much about what they did. He always came out smiling, smoking a cigarette, saying, “It’s all straight,” and they never bothered him but they did shake him out. He was too well liked. No one could really dislike him because he was an intelligent man, knew what he was talking about, so people didn’t monkey around with him too much. They knew, whatever he did, there was a good reason for doing it and no one really picked on him.

The Main Line of Resistance

© Gary Carner. Copyright Protected. All rights reserved.

Today begins Memorial Day weekend in the U.S. My heartfelt sympathies go out to all those who have lost a loved one in a war or have suffered due to injured or psychologically scarred friends or family members. Pepper Adams, for his part, saw plenty of suffering in Korea and knew musicians who were killed there. In fact, Korea was such a horrific experience for him that he chose not to discuss it when asked. Bettter not to bring up those memories and re-experience the trauma. Can you imagine how much different jazz history would be if Pepper, Frank Foster, Tommy Flanagan, Elvin Jones or Bill Evans, to name just a few, were killed in Korea?

Regarding my continuing research into the Korean War and Pepper's role in the U.S. Army, I heard back from Al Gould, who was in Pepper's platoon. He said that their 10th Special Services gigs on 4-9 March 1953 and 16-20 March 1953 were in "forward areas" near the MLR (Main Line of Resistance). "We played shows within 500 yards back of the MLR," said Gould. "USO Civilian Shows played 20 miles back of the MLR," he said. 

While stationed in Korea, Adams took many photographs that were developed as transparency slides. He marked each of his boxes of slides with dates and general locations. A few were marked "LP," a term unknown to me or Al Gould. Thanks to Gould, he researched this with a retired 2-Star General. "LP" refers to Listening Post. "A Listening Post was very dangerous duty, quite often slightly in front of the MLR," said Gould. "We would not have played loud shows there with the enemy all around us," he said.

For context, here's the brief but very informative Wikipedia article on the MLR:

"Main Line of Resistance, or MLR is a military term describing the most important defensive position of an army facing an opposing force over an extended front. It does not consist of one trench or line of pillboxes, but rather a system, of varying degrees of complexity, of fighting positions and obstacles to enemy advance. The MLR first came into use during World War I, after fighting became stalemated across northern France. The French and British on one side, and the Germans on the other, built elaborate fortified defensive positions. These were characterized by extensive use of barbed wire, entrenchments and underground bunkers to protect their troops from enemy fire, and defeat enemy attacks. The depth of such positions could range from several hundred to several thousand meters, and in a few cases much farther. If the position was held in great depth, a screening line of strongpoints and fortified outposts -- designed to slow and disorganize an enemy attack -- might be constructed forward of the MLR, and a reserve line built behind it. The most famous and elaborate MLR of World War I was the Siegfried Line (part of the longer German Hindenburg Line), across parts of northern France. During World War II, in which combat was relatively fluid, the term 'Main Line of Resistance,' was used less often, and the positions the term described were usually less deep and complex than in World War I. However, there were exceptions, including the French Maginot Line, the German Atlantic Wall and Westwall (Siegfried Line to the Allies), as well as the Soviet defenses at the Battle of Kursk. After the Korean War became static in 1951, MLR described the defensive positions of the U.N. Eighth Army, a series of trenches and bunkers extending east to west across the Korean peninsula."

                             (Photo courtesy of Carla Lehmeier. (c) Carla Lehmeier)