Happy 112th Birthday, Maj. Glenn Miller!

Alton Glenn Miller was born 112 years ago today in Clarinda, Iowa. His family moved around a bit, to Nebraska and Missouri, before finally settling in Fort Morgan, Colorado, where Glenn attended high school. Having picked up the trombone in his junior high years (after dabbling with the cornet and the mandolin), he formed his first dance band with some fellow students, and by the time he had graduated from high school in 1921, he had his sights set on a career in music.

Miller attended the University of Colorado but devoted so much time to his pursuit of a musical career that his attendance (and, as one might expect, his grades) suffered. He finally dropped out of school, studied with the renowned musical composition theorist Joseph Schillinger and went on to play with a number of orchestras, led by such names as Ben Pollack, Victor Young, Nat Shilkret, Red Nichols and the Dorsey Brothers. He also played in the pit bands for two hit Broadway shows, Strike Up the Band and Girl Crazy.

Glenn Miller

In addition to playing trombone with the Dorseys, Miller served as arranger and composer, two roles in which he’d go on to have great success. In 1935, he organized an orchestra for British bandleader Ray Noble that included such later-prominent names as Claude Thornhill, Bud Freeman and Charlie Spivak. The orchestra appeared in the 1935 Paramount picture The Big Broadcast of 1936, marking Miller’s first appearance on the big screen.

Miller formed his own orchestra for the first time in 1937, but it lacked a distinctive sound and didn’t last long. Back in New York, he set about coming up with a sound that would be his and his alone. He did so by having the clarinet and tenor saxophone play the melodic line, while three other saxes played in close harmony (we think we’ve got that right—no arrangers, we!). The trick to it was using Wilbur Schwartz, a saxophonist, to play that clarinet. Schwartz had a fuller sound than many clarinet players didn’t, and that was what set the Miller orchestra apart. As Miller himself once put it, “The fifth sax, playing clarinet most of the time, lets you know whose band you’re listening to. And that’s about all there is to it.”

In the spring of 1939, the Glenn Miller Orchestra had a successful rusn first at the Meadowbrook Ballroom in Cedar Grove, New Jersey, and, more famously, at the Glen Island Casino in New Rochelle, New York, where they drew 1,800 patrons on opening night. Soon thereafter, the band’s record sales took off, beginning a long string of hit tracks that are still familiar today. Later that year, Time magazine observed that, of the 12 to 24 discs in each of the country’s 300,000 jukeboxes, between two and six were usually Miller’s.

From 1939 to 1942, the Miller outfit had its own quarter-hour radio show, sponsored by Chesterfield cigarettes, that aired three times a week. They also appeared in a pair of 20th Century Fox pictures, Sun Valley Serenade (1941) and Orchestra Wives (1942). A third film, Blind Date, was never made, due to Miller’s entry into the Army.

Miller’s sound was tightly arranged and well rehearsed, and jazz critics of the day (and since) have sometimes been harsh in their assessments of the group, but Miller didn’t care. He knew just the sound he wanted and insisted he didn’t view the orchestra as a jazz ensemble. The critics may have carped, but the public loved the orchestra’s music (and does to this day).

At the peak of his popularity in 1942, Miller pulled strings to be accepted into the Army (at 38, the Navy felt he was too old). He was made a captain (later promoted to major), and after being transferred to the Army Air Forces, set about to entertain the troops with his special brand of swinging sounds. He formed a 50-piece band and took it to England in the summer of 1944, where it performed some 800 times. The orchestra even made some recordings at the famed Abbey Road studios. Of Miller’s efforts to entertain the U.S. and Allied troops, General Jimmy Doolittle once said, “Next to a letter from home, that organization was the greatest morale builder in the European Theater of Operations.”

On December 15, 1944, Miller was to travel from Bedford, England, to Paris, France, to entertain troops there. His plane, carrying Maj. Miller, Lt. Col. Norman Baessell and pilot John Morgan, went down over the English Channel and was never recovered. The cause of the crash is said to have been a faulty carburetor. Miller was survived by his wife, Helen, and their adopted children, Steven and Jonnie; he was mourned by millions of adoring fans around the world. Miller was posthumously awarded the Bronze Star in 1945.

The list of Miller’s enduring hits is a long one: In the Mood, Moonlight Serenade, Chattanooga Choo-Choo, A String of Pearls, Pennsylvania 6-5000, (I’ve Got a Gal in) Kalamazoo, and so many more.

Happy birthday, Major Miller, wherever you may be!

Oh, Mr. Miller!

We love us some Glenn Miller, but he does seem, let’s face it, sort of buttoned up. Not exactly loosey-goosey, our Glenn. And his reputation persists as having been something of a no-nonsense guy as a bandleader, too. His music was heavily charted, with limited room for improvisation, but it obviously paid off: His orchestra was incredibly successful.

Still, we got a kick out of these 1929 photo-booth strips, taken with his (then) new bride, Helen (who, while plenty cute, doesn’t look a thing like June Allyson). Nice to see stiff ol’ Glenn mugging it up for the camera (click the image to see a larger view with more images or click here for the supersized version).

The British Bands That Mattered

There are many familiar names among the artists we feature on Cladrite Radio—everyone from Glenn Miller and Louis Armstrong to Billie Holiday, Paul Whiteman, and Nat “King” Cole.

But our greatest pleasure is giving exposure to lesser known artists—bands, singers, and instrumentalists with whom only the true buff is familiar.

Among those less known here in the United States, except among the cognoscenti, are such British band leaders as Ray Noble, Jack Payne, Henry Hall, and Carroll Gibbons, who was American but gained his fame in England. Each of these artists can be heard here on Cladrite Radio, and those interested in learning more about them now can turn to the BBC’s Radio 2.

Air personality Brian Matthew hosts a program called “The Bands The Mattered,” which each week explores the life and career of a pair of orchestra leaders. Payne and Hall were featured in Week 1, but, unfortunately, the BBC only streams each show for a week. But you’ve still got a few days to access the archive of this week’s show, which focuses on Noble and Gibbons.

We only just learned about this program, and we’re not at all happy to have missed the first episode of this season (not to mention all of the episodes of a previous season, too), but we’ll be listening going forward, and we thought you might want to, as well.

Remembering Capt. Miller

On December 18, 1943, Capt. Glenn Miller gathered his Army Air Force Band for a radio broadcast out of New York City.

The 2001st AAF’s base unit (radio production) was created less than two weeks prior to Miller’s broadcast with the following expressed purpose, as stated in declassified Air Force documents dated April 30, 1944: “To glorify the unsung heroes of the [AAF] training command—the ground crews, to recruit aviation cadets and Air WACs, to inform the American public of the job that the Training Command is doing to hasten the day of victory, and to provide entertainment for the morale of soldiers here and abroad.”

The broadcast of December 18, which can be streamed below, includes, among other offerings, a medley of holiday songs, Johnny Desmond‘s rendition of “Along the Santa Fe Trail,” the orchestra’s arrangement of “Deep Purple,” and from that popular theatrical hit of the day, “Oklahoma,” a rendition of “Oh, What a Beautiful Morning!”

Just less than a year after this program was broadcast, on Dec. 15, 1944, the plane carrying Capt. Miller, who was on his way to entertain U.S. troops in France, disappeared in bad weather over the English Channel. His remains were never recovered.

We hope you enjoy this 67-year-old holiday broadcast.

Glenn Miller and the Army Air Force Orchestra — “I Sustain the Wings” (38:27)

Snapshot in Prose: Jan Garber

Though his prognostications about the future of dance music (see below) left something to be desired, violinist and orchestra leader Jan Garber was very popular indeed in 1935, when this profile was first published in Popular Songs magazine.

Though Garber and his orchestra are not nearly as well remembered today as other band leaders and their outfits, it’s interesting and not a little surprising to note that there’s still a Jan Garber orchestra operating today. One isn’t, perhaps, surprised to learn that there are officially sanctioned, latter-day Glenn Miller, Artie Shaw, and Tommy Dorsey orchestras still out there touring the country, causing toes to tap from coast to coast, but the Jan Garber Orchestra?

That comes as something of a surprise, if a pleasant one. Speaking of surprises, read to the end of this profile, and you’ll find some choice Jan Garber cuts awaiting you.

SHORT, stocky Jan Garber, director of one of the country’s most popular dance organizations, is not a chap afraid to be accused of going around circles, because he has his own career mapped out and is deliberately heading back to the type of music he played for 15 years as violin soloist with the Philadelphia Symphony Orchestra.
“A dance band cannot hold its popularity forever,” says Jan, “and I want to be prepared to do something worth while when my dance band days are over.”
This explains why Jan has been taking violin lessons from Czerwonky of the Chicago Conservatory of Music for the last two years. He plans to be ready for the concert stage in 5 or 10 years, even though his experience with popular music has occupied much of his time during the last 12 years.
Let it not be supposed that Jan Garber looks down upon popular music. Not at all. He takes keen interest in keeping his orchestra on its toes and has all the members of the band gather at his home each week to listen to a recording of his previous broadcast. “Hearing ourselves as others hear us helps us get together on ideas for new band arrangements and lets us keep a constant check on ourselves,” is the way Garber explains it.

For the same reason Jan Garber likes to play up to his audience in Chicago’s Trianon ballroom, where his contract will keep him for the next three years with the exception of summer engagements. On the dance floor, he jokes and laughs with everyone, not only because it’s good business but because he gets a kick out of it.
Asked to explain what he thinks of the future of popular songs, Jan said, “The day of the primitive, the appeal to the muscles alone, is gone. Today I try to emphasize precision rhythm and simplicity in arrangement. I judge what the public wants by college boys and girls on dance floors where I play. They convince me that sentimental tunes will always have a place in music, and that the mad, hectic type of music which followed the World War will not come again.”
“Precision in rhythm and simplcity in arrangement” is indeed the key to Garber’s popularity. Three years ago his orchestra, then playing at Cleveland, was slipping in spite of all Jan could do.
A friend tipped Jan off that a bunch of Canadian youngsters were playing at a small roadhouse near Cleveland and were making quite with a hit with a special kind of rhythm. He went to hear them, was delighted and offered to take over the whole band. Freddie Large, the director, accepted eagerly and Jan got them an engagement at the Hotel Netherlands Plaza in Cincinnati.
That engagement was the beginning of a new kind of fame during which Jan changed his style of music from red hot jazz to the dreamy and melodious brand of music which his followers demand today.
The composition of Garber’s present band is interesting in that it includes only one of his old players, Rudy Rudisill, bald-headed pianist, who has been associated with Jan for 15 years dating back to the time in Washington when Jan got fired for staying on his honeymoon one day too long and organized a band of his own.
All of Garber’s boys admit that the director pays them well, but they all will tell you that nothing less than perfection pleases the energetic little maestro. Yet he allows Janice, his six-year-old daughter, to run around backstage during his programs. He spends a great deal of his time at home practicing on the violin, accompanied by his wife.

Jan Garber and His Orchestra — Ain’t No Maybe in My Baby’s Eyes

Jan Garber and His Orchestra — Puttin’ on the Ritz

Jan Garber and His Orchestra — You Don’t Like It—Not Much