During the Korean War I was an Airman on my way from Guam to San Francisco on an Army ship. The U.S.S. Sultan had been a luxury liner, but wartime caused it to be converted to a troop transport ship with a crew of merchant mariners. Enlisted men were not allowed on the two top decks because we were segregated from officers and civilian passengers. We were asked to stay below for the two week journey, and I became bored after the first few days. We inlisted men slept on the very bottom of the shipwhich is below sea level. The walls were called bulkheads. On the sides of the ship they were curved to the shape of the ship. It was damp, dark, and hot. Everything was painted a dismal gray. We ate standing up in a hot, below deck galley. I was twenty one and met an interesting man twice my age. He was one of the merchant seaman cooks who lived upstairs above the main deck with the stewards in clean uncrowded rooms. They had their own record players, radios, books and whiskey. These men were not highly paid, but they seemed rich to me. The cook’s last name was Otis, and he allowed me to help him with the kitchen work. I wanted something to do so I wouldn’t have to stay below with the other enlisted sailors and marines. When I asked him about music he was never at a loss for words. Finally he invited me to hear his records and to share a little of his whiskey. He said, “Be sure to wear your white dress uniform. You will pass for one of the stewards, and the officers will leave you alone.”
He had his own private cabin with many personal belongings. I had been living out of a sea bag for so long that I was impressed by his luxurious lifestyle. Seventy eight and forty five speed records were played including some with Billie Holiday singing the blues. He let me hear a record she made that had been banned from the radio called Strange Fruit. The song refers to the white man’s practice of hanging southern Negroes on trees. The song was so sad it brought tears to my eyes.
Mr. Otis introduced me to a wonderful new sound I had never heard before or since. It was a jazz record made by Dave Brubeck the pianist, with Callen Jader playing Vibes and bongo. They played That Old Black Magic, Body and Soul, Undecided, and I’ll Remember April. It was a magic moment for me to hear it. The music was a new kind of jazz, and the cook Mr. Otis was crazy about it. Then he told me a story about Dave Brubeck and Cal Tjader.
He said, “Dave Brubeck went to Juliard to study piano music. It is a school taught by masters of classical music. Dave formed a small band with Callen Tjader who was a master percussionist. They made this forty five speed record I have. Dave’s band worked in Honolulu. I don’t know the details, but something happened to cause Dave and Cal to split up. I think it had something to do with them getting in a car wreck. Anyway each has his own band now, and they are both playing in San Francisco. When you get there, I want you to go see both of them. They both have good bands. I am sure you will like the music.”
Arriving in San Francisco I was temporarily based at Treasure Island. On my first liberty I went to downtown Market street riding the ‘A’ train to get there. It was the cheapest transportation. I walked many blocks on Market Street to find the Blue Angel or The Black Hawk, [I'm not sure of the names]. They were small jazz clubs where drinks were served. I had very little money, and I nursed a beer for a long time while listening to Dave Brubeck on piano, Paul Desmond on sax, Hal Barns on drums, and Rodger Nichols on Bass. After sipping the beer for a long time, I felt foolish sitting there, not able to buy another beer, so I went outside the door. I stood and listened to the wonderful music for a long time. I made several visits to the jazz club where Dave played while I was in San Francisco. During a music break, Dave Brubeck walked over to the bar to get a drink. He gave me his autograph. Then he walked back to the bandstand and said, “I guess we are getting famous. This young man wants our signatures in his autograph book.” He passed the book around, and they all signed it.
I went to see Cal Tjader and his new band. The music was jazz but with a strong Latin accent. Cal is known by jazz people, but he never made it as big as Dave Brubeck. Later Dave’s music was used to sell T.V. commercials.
Otis, the army transport ship’s cook was proud of his record collection, and he told me his brother was the Los Angeles band leader Johnny Otis.
I listened to popular music on the radio in my teens. Late one night I heard a disc jockey who was the band leader Johnny Otis. The music was big band jazz rhythm and blues. Some of the music was live. It was broadcast from a South Los Angeles dance hall off Central Avenue not far from The University of Southern California. Johnny often made a pitch to get people to come and dance to his orchestra. Johnny Otis was a good talker, and the music he played included rock and roll before it became popular.
One night Barbara, my future wife, and I decided to go see Johnny Otis. Barbara knew how to get there because she was familiar with Los Angeles. As a child, her mother took her there to buy clothing to sell in her parents store in Wilmington. I had never heard of Watts which later became famous because of riots and burning down the city by the people who lived there. Neither of us felt insecure in a black neighborhood. We were in our mid twenties. Barbara was pretty with a shape like an hour glass, and I was dressed nicely for an evening of night club dancing. The parking lot was free parking and poorly lighted, but we were not worried about leaving the car there in those days. We paid a small fee to get into the dance. We walked over and sat on stools at the bar close to the bandstand.
The place was not crowded and no one was dancing on the hardwood floor. The bandstand was next to the bar, and Johnny Otis was on stage leading the orchestra. Tables surrounded the dance floor, and most of the tables were occupied. Barbara ordered a coke and I a beer as we sat at the curved bar. We were surprised not to see white people there. We began to feel slightly uneasy being the only white folks there. The bartender was friendly, and he made us feel less apprehensive. When we started dancing, the floor was empty. Then a few black couples joined us. People seemed curious to look at us, but they didn’t stare. They just kept glancing at us. We sat back down on our stools and sipped our drinks at the bar. I left Barbara sitting alone and went to the men’s rest room toward the back of the hall. While I was in there, I kept looking over my shoulder because I felt very much alone and unprotected. Later, after dancing some Lindy Hop and New Yorker jitterbug dance steps with Barbara, we went back to the bar for a rest, and Barbara felt she needed to go to the rest room.
Barbara walked across the dance floor alone, and two black ladies followed her. Barbara felt scared and paused outside the Ladies Room, but the urge was heightened by her nervousness, and she decided to take her chances and go in. Inside the rest room the two ladies started a friendly conversation with Barbara and praised her for her dancing ability. They asked her where she learned to dance with such good rhythm, and they said they wished they could dance that good.
While Barbara was gone the bartender spoke to me about the orchestra leader, “You know, that Johnny Otis is a real lady’s man. They all like him. He don’t never have to go home with the same woman twice. Looky here. Look at this note that pretty young woman gave me to pass on to Johnny. See here what it says. ‘To Johnny Otis. I would like for you to take me home to my place after the dance tonight, and before you leave my house, there won’t be nothin’ left standin’ ‘ceptin’ your shoes.’ See the lip stick kiss mark on this note? I’ve got to give this to Johnny when he takes a break. Yes, that Johnny is a sure enough lady’s man.” The bartender was obviously proud to know Johnny Otis.
The Johnny Otis radio show was especially popular with Los Angeles Afro-Americans in the nineteen forties. Listen to vocal jazz from that era and you may hear the name Johnny Otis in song lyrics and the words rock and roll. You will also hear the phrase rock me, roll me all night long. From this phrase, it seems to me that rock me must come from the old words roll in the hay, and rock me probably means the same thing, or it may have something to do with ballroom dancing. I smile when the great Little Richard and others claim to be the originators of rock and roll. The term caught on long after the musical style was conceived and developed by hundreds of other musicians and singers.
Barbara and I felt very comfortable before we left the dance that night. We never went back again, but we have a nice memory of the place, and the people we met there that night. And I will remember the U.S.S. Sultan’s cook, Mr. Otis who treated me like a friend even though he could see, I was white.