Alan Freed

Last summer I caused a bit of a stir when I suggested that the gigantic banner heralding the historic achievements of Garrett Morgan had been unfairly “whitewashed” prior to the Republican National Convention. My suggestion that racism had anything to do with the decision was slammed by numerous parties, I was accused of jumping to conclusions, and creating unnecessary controversy.

After all, Garrett Morgan had not invented the stoplight. The banner was incorrect. He improved on the design, and it is very important that we do not provide credit where it is not due. It had nothing to do with his ethnic background, nor the color of his skin.

My post on the subject was one of my most widely read of the year, and concluded on an upbeat note. A new, smaller banner had been posted more accurately announcing that Garrett Morgan was the creator of a stoplight, not the stoplight.

This new Morgan banner, which for the time being still exists, is among many such banners on Euclid Avenue, including the one which states proudly CLEVELAND DISC JOCKEY ALAN FREED COINED THE TERM “ROCK AND ROLL” IN THE EARLY 1950S.

YOU GUYS.

HE DIDN’T.

The term “rocking and rolling” dates back to at least the early 20th century.

The Boswell Sisters recorded a song called Rock and Roll in 1934.

The Rock and Roll Inn music club opened in New Jersey in 1943.

Around 1951, Alan Freed began to “popularize” the term on his Cleveland-based radio broadcasts.

To coin is to invent, to originate. Alan Freed made popular the term -- for a white audience -- and is therefore widely credited with having created it.

As we move into this era, may I suggest once again without argument that African-Americans must validate their legitimacy to an extant that Caucasians do not.

God, am I pissed I didn't catch that last summer ...

Please read my original July 15, 2016 post on the Garrett Morgan banner.

Source:
Wikipedia

Rock Hall, Revisited

Happy 65th Birthday, Sir.
Photo: Janet Macoska, Cleveland (1976)
Took the boy to see the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame and Museum today. Always been a big supporter of the Rock Hall, glad it's here where rock and roll, well, you know. Has always been really popular. Moondog Coronation Ball, Alan Freed. Brooklyn High. You know.

My wife and I checked out the hall shortly after it opened in September 1995. As the years have progressed, aspects of the hall remained firmly in the mid-90s. The 500 Most Influential Songs exhibit featured only a half-dozen tunes from that decade, and none since. The opening film, Mystery Train is an excellent short film, which shares, without narration, the different forms of early 20th century, American roots music which came together to inspire rock and roll by mid-century. But it was followed by another film (which felt much longer) called Welcome to Rock and Roll which attempted to describe the lasting legacy of rock, but was really an irritating collection of white, male artists (many now dead) lecturing us about why rock music is so important.

The upper floors change all the time, and is where most temporary exhibits are displayed, but the vast, main floor stayed in this time warp. No longer. Along with his new drum set, we gifted the boy tickets to the Hall (the boy is six, in reality he gets in free, we gave him the idea of going to the Rock Hall) and I was delighted to discover upon exiting Mystery Train that the second film had been eliminated! The other theater wasn't even there.

The Early Influences exhibit used to be a gallery of photos and a lot of reading about the pioneers of popular music. It now features touch screens to choose music by these artists, and for a time I thought I was never going to get the boy away from them. He wanted to hear everything from Woody Guthrie, and was seriously bopping to Willie Dixon's I Ain't Superstitious. I did my best to explain when he asked what Waist Deep in the Big Muddy is about, but the reasons for our involvement in Vietnam (and our enchantment with The Smothers Brothers) was a little complicated when there were so many pleasing diversions to be attended to right then.

A small boy is not so interested in artifacts; costumes and hand-written lyrics. When DMC's glasses were pointed out to him, he stated flatly, "I know, I saw them in a video." That's good enough, breathing the same air as Run's Adidas (His! Ah! Didas!) does not impress. The boy was much more enamored of the interactive exhibits, the escalators, and anything that had to do with technology that he could grasp and appreciated.

For example, guitars do not interest him. John Lennon's mellotron would be interesting, only you can't tell by looking at it how it works (it is actually quite fascinating) he was more into bass drum heads with the band's name painted onto them, and the exhibit featuring the advancement of sound reproduction from the wax cylinder to the iPod. He could also listen to Funkytown a thousand times straight, but didn't we all?

Concluding our tour in the Hall of Fame, watching short films of all of the artist, the boy observed, "They all smoke."

Yes, son. They do. That's rock and roll. And if you so much as touch a cigarette, I will kill you.

Screamin' Jay Hawkins

"It's Screamin' Jay Hawkins, and he's a wild man, so bug off."
- Stranger Than Paradise (1984)
Jalacy "Screamin' Jay" Hawkins (July 18, 1929 — February 12, 2000) was born in Cleveland, Ohio. The man studied classical piano and like his idol Paul Robeson, Hawkins had aspirations to be an opera singer. Instead, Screamin' Jay created rock and roll.

Okay, maybe he didn't. But he was the first singer (fronting for Tiny Grimes) at the Moondog Coronation Ball at the Arena on March 21, 1952, ergo Screamin' Jay Hawkins performed the first rock show in history. Unless he wasn't, because no one can agree whether or not Tiny Grimes went on first, or if the show even got under way because it was shut down before the first note was played.

In 1956 Alan Freed suggested Hawkins arrive in a coffin before performing his hit record I Put a Spell On You, and a legendary stage persona was born, incorporating outlandish voodoo-themed costumes and stage props into his act.

Source: Wikipedia

The Moondog Show

It's Friday night in Cleveland, and all through the 1980s that meant that at precisely 5 PM Kid Leo was going to play Ian Hunter's Cleveland Rocks on WMMS.

You know it? Of course you do. You know the opening bit featuring Alan Freed saying "Hello everybody, how are y'all tonight, this is Alan Freed here the King of the Moondoggers,and it's time again for another of your favorite rock and roll sessions as you enjoy the Moondog Show --" cue guitars?

Ever wanted to hear where that clip comes from?

Why it was recorded on April 6, 1954 on WJW. Play it loud, it's the weekend. And grab an Erin Brew.

Gleason's

William "Jap" Gleason (Cleveland's most successful impresario! The man that finds and makes the stars!) opened his jazz joint at 5219 Woodland near East 52nd St. in 1942. Blues were also a heavy favorite of the owner's, and attracted artists like Bo Diddley and B.B. King. Legend has it a young James Brown, in addition to singing, would sweep up to make a few extra bucks.

By the early 50s it was the home of interracial mixing to enjoy rhythm and blues. By 1952 WJW disc jockey Alan Freed was calling the stuff "rock and roll" and he and his entourage could regularly be found at Gleason's having late night supper and listening to the likes of Screamin' Jay Hawkins, Muddy Waters and Big Maybelle Smith.

The advertisement above features The Metronomes, an r&b group (made up of several John Adams High graduates) that won Gleason's Fame And Fortune Contest on March 4, 1954. Their prize was a week-long engagement.

My father told me that when he was in high school he would frequent jazz clubs where the segregation apparent virtually everywhere else in the city was ignored. I need to ask if Gleason's was one of them. One local jazz trumpeter named Earl Douthitt described Gleason's as "a jamming joint, a good spot with no problems, an orderly crowd that came to listen to the music."

Sources:
Encyclopedia of Cleveland History
Jazzed In Cleveland (Joe Mosbrook)
Marv Golderg's R&B Notebooks

Alan Freed

On The Air
by George E. Condon
The Plain Dealer, August, 1954

King of the Moondogs Quits WJW

The spectacular career of Disk Jockey Alan Freed, who has reigned on Station WJW here as "King of the the Moondogs” for three years, will begin a new phase next month, when he shifts from the Cleveland station to Station WINS in New York.

Billboard reported the Cleveland disc jockey's move "may involve the biggest sum of money ever paid to a rhythm and blues jockey by an independent radio station."

Freed has enjoyed a meteoric career in Clevelabd radio and television. He came to this city from WAKR, Akron in April 1950. In July 1951 he began the late-hour "Moondog" program over WJW. When the disc jockey staged a "Moondog Ball" in Clevelabd Arena in March, 1952 a near-riot ensued. A crowd estimated at 25,000 showed up and the Arena's capacity is about 10,000. It took a section of the Cleveland Police to restore order.

The "Moondog Show" would continue on the Cleveland station with another disc jockey, although it was possible the station would buy Freed's program out of New York.

The disc jockey’s career here nearly ended in tragedy in April 1953. He fell asleep at the wheel of his car in the early morning hours, after work, and the car crashed into a tree in Shaker Heights.

Source: The Plain Dealer
AlanFreed.com