“Moonshine Over Kentucky” (1938)

Composed by Sidney D. Mitchell and Lew Pollack; arranged by Joe Lippman.

Recorded by Bunny Berigan and His Orchestra for Victor on April 21, 1938 in New York.

Bunny Berigan, solo trumpet, directing: Steve Lipkins, first trumpet; Irving Goodman, trumpet; Nat Lobovsky, first trombone; Al George, trombone; Mike Doty, first alto saxophone; Joe Dixon, alto saxophone; Georgie Auld and Clyde Rounds, tenor saxophones; Joe Lippman, piano; Dick Wharton, guitar; Hank Wayland, bass; Johnny Blowers, drums. Ruth Gaylor, vocal.

The story:

One of the most fortuitous (for Berigan fans) developments to have occurred while the Berigan band played at the Paradise Restaurant in the spring of 1938 was the recording of many of its sustaining broadcasts emanating from that location. Most of those airchecks began to appear on LP records in the late 1970s, and have been commercially available since then. They reveal much more clearly the capabilities of Bunny Berigan’s band, and the true breadth of its repertoire, balancing in large measure the grossly distorted and limited picture that one gets by simply listening to their Victor recordings from 1937 and the first few months of 1938. These airchecks also reveal that contrary to conventional wisdom, Bunny Berigan was very much taking care of commercial business by frequently playing on the air many of the tunes he had recorded for Victor, to promote those recordings, as all other successful bandleaders also did.

The august New York Times took note of the proceedings at the Paradise Restaurant thusly: “The Paradise Restaurant has come back to life with music for dancing provided by Bunny Berigan, one of the better trumpeters, in a new show, which is considerably wilder than some of the institution’s prior editions, but very entertaining.”(1)

In spite of the success of the Paradise engagement (it was extended several times and eventually lasted from March 20 to May 6, a total of seven weeks), there was some personnel turnover among the Berigan bandsmen at that time. Guitarist Tom Morganelli was replaced by Dick Wharton, who in addition to playing guitar, sang in an “Irish tenor” fashion. Wharton later recalled how he got into the Berigan band:

“I was born in Philadelphia in 1907. I studied violin and voice originally. I then played with Ted Lewis in 1928–29. Later, I did studio work with the Jan Savitt radio station studio band at KYW Philly (1934–35). Art Michaud (Berigan’s personal manager) was also from Philly and he got me the job with Bunny. Art seemed to be very concerned about the Berigan band then and its possibilities. He, with help from men in the band and the band boy, was trying to keep Lee Wiley and Bunny apart whenever possible—she was ‘around’ a lot then. I joined Bunny at the Paradise Restaurant. I was hired primarily as a singer, but Tommy Morgan had already given his notice. So, for playing in the rhythm section as well, I got $80 a week after a little argument with Bunny! Arthur Michaud got me the job when I was sweating out my union card in New York. The guys in the band nicknamed me ‘Rev’ because I was married and not much interested in the usual wild lifestyle associated with jazz musicians. Nat Lobovsky came in on first trombone, and Ruth Gaylor took over the gal vocal spot at about the same time.”(2)

Tommy Morganelli, whom Wharton replaced, left the Berigan band on good terms. After the band settled in at the Paradise Restaurant, Morganelli gave Bunny his notice: “I got tired of the road and left Bunny for a gig with Tito’s Swingtette, a six man group with three accordions and rhythm. The leader was Tito Guidotti, and the band was playing ‘relief’ at the Lincoln Hotel.”(2A)

Another notable change also took place during this period. Trombonist Sonny Lee, indisputably the most accomplished jazz soloist in the band after Berigan, accepted an offer from Jimmy Dorsey for more money than Bunny could pay. Also, Bunny and his other trombonist, Al George, had a disagreement, and he was on notice. Once again, the musicians’ grapevine went into high gear: Ray Conniff (trombone) recalled: 

“I ran into Joe Dixon one day at the Forrest Hotel in New York and he told me that Al George had just had a run-in with Bunny and as a result, he was working out his notice. Bunny was auditioning trombone players at the Paradise Restaurant, so I went down and sat-in and was lucky enough to get the job. The trombone parts had been written for Sonny Lee, who had not only played lead, but took all the jazz solos as well. Nat Lobovsky had inherited that situation although he didn’t consider himself a jazz player, and he was quite content to confine himself to playing lead parts after I joined. I took all the jazz solos after that. I soon got to know all the stories that were told about Bunny. For instance, not long before I joined, the band had played an important audition at which Bunny had gotten stinking drunk, with the result that his playing suffered. So, that particular job was offered to Glenn Miller. (Conniff may be referring to the radio show job that was awarded to Hal Kemp. Glenn Miller was scuffling in early 1938 and certainly had no sponsored radio show then.) Of course, Bunny was a marvelous musician, who could outplay all of us, a very warm-hearted guy, but the world’s worst businessman! Although I got my salary, which was $60 a week, I didn’t get paid for any of my arrangements! I did a couple of originals, ‘Little Gate’s Special’ and ‘Gangbusters’ Holiday’ and I was told I would receive $35 per score. Well, I waited for what I thought was a reasonable time and when I heard nothing, I reminded Bunny that I hadn’t been paid. ‘How much was I going to pay you?’ he asked. ‘$35 was it?  We’ll make it 40.’ And each time I asked him for payment, he’d raise the offer, but I never did get any money for those charts! I recall that (arranger) Andy Phillips with the band when I joined at the Paradise in April ‘38, and about a week before Joe Bushkin I think; he replaced Joe Lippman; Lobovsky was still the other trombone.”(3) Ray Conniff joined the Berigan band on or about April 24, 1938. (Above right: Ray Conniff in 1938.)

Years later, Ray Conniff (1916–2002), as the leader of and arranger for the Ray Conniff Singers, went on to become the most financially successful ex-Berigan sideman by far. From the mid-1950s until his retirement around the year 2000, he made over ninety albums, won a Grammy, two Golden Globe awards, had two platinum albums, and at least ten gold albums. But his big-time musical career started with his association with Bunny Berigan. Ray’s daughter Tamara, who has worked in the music industry for many years, once asked him about his early years and recorded his recollections. Among them were these additional memories of joining the Berigan band: 

“I was sitting at the Forrest Bar with Joe Dixon, a friend of mine from back in New England. He told me that Bunny Berigan had just had a run-in with one of his trombone players, so there was a spot open, and asked me if I would like to give it a shot. Would I! The next night I went to the Paradise Restaurant and sat-in. The band started playing ‘It’s Wonderful.’ So Bunny came over to me and asked, ‘Do you know this song, kid?’ Of course I did because I was making the rehearsal band scene, so instead of giving the girl singer the chorus, I played it solo on trombone. I knew it note for note in any key, so I could watch the band as I played. Bunny looked over at Georgie Auld for approval, and Georgie gave him the code—the old index finger to the eye trick—meaning ‘get a load of this!’ I knew that I was in. Touring with Bunny was my first big-time gig, and it was one of the highlights of my life.” (4) (Another view of Ray Conniff, seated in the trombone section.)

Arranger Andy Phillips also came on the scene then:

“I graduated from high school in Cortland, New York in 1934. Went to North Carolina State College; played guitar, violin and sang and arranged with the big school dance band there. Then I got a job with Frank Daily’s band. Joe Mooney was their arranger and as he was blind I took down the stuff he picked out on the piano. He was a great talent and I learned a lot from him. I then went to NYC and studied with Joseph Schillinger. I’d done an arrangement of ‘Lullaby of Rhythm’ (sic “Lullaby in Rhythm”) was a then current jazz tune composed by Edgar Sampson) and a publisher told me Bunny Berigan was looking for an arranger. He was at the Paradise Restaurant, and after the job one night, I went up to him and asked him to try out my arrangement. Bunny said, ‘Look, stick around and we’ll try it after everybody has gone home.’ Anyway, he liked it and offered me a job at $85 a week to supply two arrangements a week, mainly of ballads and pop tunes. The band was on the air over the Mutual network from the Paradise which had three bands at that time. Lionel Rand had the house band that played all the floor shows and there was a rumba band that alternated with Bunny, who I found to be a nice guy to work for.”

“He and Donna were living with their two kids in an apartment house around Eightieth Street (5) where he use to invite me over for dinner now and again. We’d listen to records of classical music, one of his favorites being Rachmaninoff’s Second piano concerto. He always maintained that the slow movement would have made a good pop song! I only traveled occasionally with the band. Normally I mailed my arrangements to them. Bunny didn’t interfere much, just indicating where he wanted a vocal, etc. But there were always song-pluggers trying to persuade him to play their stuff in return for some financial handout. This ‘payola,’ as it was (later) called involved music publishers and disc jockeys as well as singers and leaders. Bunny would often choose a number that wasn’t too well-known and get it scored just because he liked it and thought he could do something original with it. He was very selective, except with his records, when he often did not have any choice, being given some real ‘dogs’ to record. That really burned him up, because he knew leaders like Dorsey and Goodman were getting the best material and he was getting the dross. (See MZ commentary on this below for more context regarding this.) He wasn’t very critical of any of his arrangers, but he always knew exactly what he wanted, and always played the same chart in the same tempo. He was quite adamant about that. Although other leaders might vary their tempos, his metronomic mind wouldn’t allow that.“

“Joe Lippman was the principal arranger, and the copyist was Jack Maisel, an old friend of Bunny’s, who always made an extra copy of each chart for his own library! Once, we were doing a college dance and the students’ band played an arrangement that I had done not too long before! Bunny paid Maisel good money for some of the things he brought in, but I’m sure he knew that other bands were using the same charts. Arthur Michaud was the ‘man behind the scenes’—the manipulator as far as schedules and personnel were concerned, and lawyer John Gluskin was the money-man. He was a professional band backer, treating it as an investment which he hoped would bring him a profitable return, just like someone backing a Broadway show.” (6) (Above right: arranger Andy Phillips.)

First trumpeter Steve Lipkins encountered a situation then that would eventually take him out of the Berigan band: “My father took ill around that time and as it sounded pretty serious, I asked Bunny for a few days off so I could go home and see him and assess the situation. Bunny wasn’t too keen and I guess we had a slight argument, but I went home anyway and he got Max Herman to sub for me.” (7) 

Lipkins however returned to the band after a few days, in time for the next Berigan record date. The somewhat revamped Berigan band entered the Victor recording studios on April 21 for an almost six-hour (1:00 to 6:45 p.m.) recording session. The tunes were; “Never Felt Better, Never Had Less,” “I’ve Got a Guy,” “Moonshine Over Kentucky,” “‘Round My Old Deserted Farm,” and “Azure.” The new personnel were: Berigan, Lipkins, Irving Goodman, trumpets; Nat Lobovsky, first trombone; Ray Conniff, jazz trombone; Mike Doty, Dixon, Georgie Auld, and Clyde Rounds in the reed section; Lippman on piano; Dick Wharton, guitar; Hank Wayland, bass; and Johnny Blowers, drums. The new girl singer was Ruth Gaylor.

The music:

A number of commentators over the last several decades have mentioned that the Berigan band, being somewhat less popular on Victor Records than the Tommy Dorsey and Benny Goodman bands, who were other Victor recording artists in the late 1930s, was essentially treated as second-class citizens at Victor with respect to the tunes they were ordered to record. My study of this, which has now also stretched over several decades, has yielded the conclusion that this assertion is far from being accurate. My take on this situation is that ALL bands, at Victor and on other record labels, were required to record a substantial number of songs then that now seem to be of less quality than the pop tunes of that time that for whatever reasons found continuing popularity, that is, went on to be regarded as “standards.” In fact, I think that a careful review of the discographies of just about all bands that were making records during the swing era will show that they recorded a substantial percentage, perhaps as much as 50%, of tunes that by the standards of today could justifiably be deemed as dross or dogs.

Nevertheless, I have also found that no matter how poor a song recorded by a good band during the swing era might have been, very often the band and its soloists were so good, and their arrangers so skilled, that they overcame the modest quality of the underlying song, and made memorable music playing it. That is certainly the case with Bunny Berigan’s recording of “Moonshine Over Kentucky.” The reasons for this are: 1) That Berigan himself, as bandleader and as soloist, inspired his sidemen and vocalists to perform with verve and enthusiasm. 2) That by the spring of 1938, the Berigan band itself had matured as a performing unit that in many ways reflected the fiery and swinging musical identity of their leader, and also played with impressive unity.

The first recording presented with this post is the Victor studio performance of “Moonshine Over Kentucky” (8) recorded by the Berigan band. After a bright ensemble introduction, Berigan paraphrases and swings the main melody muting his trumpet sound in some fashion. His playing is quintessential – one knows who is playing after hearing only a few notes. Bunny is supported by drummer Johnny Blowers, (who is playing in 2/4 meter on his high-hat cymbals while his colleagues in the rhythm section play in 4/4), and the saxophone section. The open brass lead the way through the tune’s bridge, answered by the saxophones. The entire ensemble plays the last eight bars of the main melody to finish chorus one.

A short transition leads to the vocal chorus, with the band’s new girl vocalist, Ruth Gaylor, doing the singing. Like most girl singers with big bands during the swing era, she was attractive, sang well and could swing. At times her enunciation was a bit indistinct, but overall she handles this vocal effectively. Her backing is by straight-muted brass and active saxophone section bursts.

The third chorus is where things get warm. After a blast of open brass, tenor saxophonist Georgie Auld steps forward with an exuberant jazz solo, played atop rocking back-beats provided with gusto by drummer Johnny Blowers. The rhythmic chirps of the open brass add to the intensity. Berigan then swaggers through the bridge on open trumpet, his jazz ideas and big, brassy sound compelling.

Trumpeter Steve Lipkins, who plays all of the lead trumpet in this performance, carries the ensemble through the final sequence.

“Moonshine Over Kentucky”

Recorded live in performance by Bunny Berigan and His Orchestra on May 3, 1938 at the Paradise Restaurant in New York.

Bunny Berigan, trumpet, directing: Steve Lipkins, and Irving Goodman, trumpets; Nat Lobovsky and Ray Conniff, trombones; Mike Doty, first alto saxophone; Joe Dixon, alto saxophone; Georgie Auld and Clyde Rounds, tenor saxophones; Joe Bushkin, piano; Dick Wharton, guitar; Hank Wayland, bass; Johnny Blowers, drums. Ruth Gaylor, vocal.

The story continues:

This performance was captured from a radio broadcast that occurred near the end of the Berigan band’s seven-week engagement at the Paradise Restaurant. That engagement was a welcome respite from the band’s normal work schedule, which invariably required much travel. Bunny and the performers in his band departed from the Paradise gig on May 6, played a few one-night dance dates within about 100 miles of Manhattan, then opened for a week at the Paramount Theater on Times Square on May 11. As much as Berigan and his band had enjoyed the Paradise Restaurant gig, in financial terms, it was not paying enough to balance the band’s weekly overhead expenses. On the other hand, the frequent live airshots of the band over radio from the Paradise had primed the New York audience for the band’s appearance at the Paramount Theater. Their week at that venue was successful, both financially and musically. The band grossed more than $32,000.00 for their work there. (Multiply by 15 to get the value in dollars today.) Presumably, this put the band’s finances back into a healthy place.

Here is a part of the review of the show Bunny headlined at the Paramount Theater that was written by Variety’s reporter, who was in the audience on opening night:

“Bunny Berigan’s orch; 40 minutes; band setting, Paramount, NY. Berigan’s hot trumpet originally came to attention through the swing sessions conducted by CBS. During the forepart of last year he was on the Admiracion Shampoo session over Mutual network with Tim and Irene. Aggregation which made its bow at the Paramount with him consisted of a crack brass four-some, a like number of reeds, a pianist, a drummer, a bass player and a guitarist. From this combination plus a number of fetching arrangements Berigan draws a jitter brew that’s up to the minute in tang and flavor. For stage purposes his layout’s in the groove. The items are so varied as to keep the interest on the upbeat. It’s straight music from start to finish, with no imitation of top-blowing or any other outbreak of nut behavior by some member of the band. Berigan blends a keen sense of musicianship with a hard grasp of the current trends in dansapation, and the outlook for him should be a bright one. Gene Raymond—Songs-patter 10 minutes, Paramount, NY. Date is Raymond’s first on Broadway since he quit the legit for films. While he’s no great shakes as a crooner, Raymond carries a tune easily enough…with the uke accompaniment filling in nicely with limitations and style. Between vocal numbers Raymond had several of the musicians out of the Bunny Berigan contingent join him and his uke in a jam session. The incident went big with the jitterbugs in the assembly.” (9)

In some shows, Bunny also joined in appearing onstage with the two stars of the feature film that was being presented in between appearances by him and his band. The film was Stolen Heaven, and the stars were Gene Raymond and Cass Daley. Perhaps surprisingly, Bunny danced competently with Ms. Daley. Audiences loved this kind of thing.

The music:

This performance, though similar to the Victor commercial recording, nevertheless contains some significant differences. Bunny’s sixteen bar melody paraphrase in the first chorus has him using a different mute, which sounds like a straight mute. (On the Victor recording, he used what sounded like a cup mute.) The band’s ensemble performance here is tighter, yet still swinging.

In the vocal chorus, Ruth Gaylor adds a few small embellishments here and there, but overall her singing is still good.

Georgie Auld’s jazz outing here is quite different. Listen to bassist Hank Wayland interacting with him in the first eight bars, and then his flights of fancy in the second eight. I’m reasonably certain that Bunny was smiling while this was going on. Berigan follows, with his customary swagger and big sound. Although his solo here is only eight bars long on the tune’s bridge, it is still constructed with precision, ascending to the climactic high note he explodes at the beginning of bar five, then descending to a satisfying conclusion.

The Berigan band was definitely firing on all cylinders when this performance took place.

The recordings presented with this post were digitally remastered by Mike Zirpolo.

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Notes:

(1) New York Times: March 27, 1938, cited in the White materials: March 27, 1938.

(2) White materials: April 14, 1938.

(2A) Ibid.

(3) White materials: April 30, 1938. Just to tell the rest of the story, Bunny Berigan was not a good businessman. There is no doubt about that. But he never stiffed Conniff for the many Conniff original compositions/arrangements Bunny not only played and promoted, but recorded. Unlike most other bandleaders, Bunny did not insist on cutting himself in on the composer royalties as a condition of recording those original compositions. This may be yet more evidence of his poor business judgment. Consequently, Conniff got 100% of the composer royalties from the Berigan recordings of his originals for many decades. He was well compensated therefore for those arrangements.

(4) This quote was taken from the Ray Conniff website called: “my web pages.comcast.net Ray Conniff,” January 2008.

(5) Numerous people have stated that Bunny’s apartment in Manhattan was on Central Park West, near Eightieth Street. The only “apartment house” located near that area then and now is the luxurious Beresford, located at 211 Central Park West, between West eighty-first and Eighty-second Streets. It became a co-op in 1962. South of Eighty-first extending to Seventy-seventh Street is the Museum of Natural History.

(6) White materials: April 17, 1938.

(7) I think it fair to assume that Arthur Michaud had secured another one-year contract between Berigan and Victor shortly after the March 15, 1938, recording session that marked the end of Bunny’s first one-year Victor recording contract.

(8) The mavens of Tin Pan Alley, always looking for a “hook,” that is a clever idea for a tune’s title/lyric/music, apparently thought using the words “moonshine” and “Kentucky” together in a song would pique the interest of listeners. They were wrong, alas. Nevertheless, the relentless song-pluggers, who worked for the publishers of this tune, managed to get it recorded and played by many bands in addition to Bunny Berigan’s, including those led by Jan Savitt, Red Norvo, Charlie Barnet, Frank Trumbauer and Glenn Miller.

(9) Variety: May 18, 1938, cited in the White materials: May 11, 1938.

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