The energetic, and possibly sleepless, Washington, DC trombonist, singer and bandleader Eric Felten writes:
I read the Fud Livingston post with interest, because in my endless searches for vintage big band music I have acquired a number of Fud Livingston charts. But I can’t remember ever actually trying any of them out. In part, that’s because they are “stocks” (which I’m happy to collect, but wouldn’t go out of my way to perform). And as much as I hate to admit it, I think I have reflexively dismissed the charts because of the man’s rather goofy name. Shallow of me, but human. And not without some grounding in reason — one learns not to expect hot music from the Ish Kabibbles of the world. But now I’ll go check my library to see if there is something from Fud worth putting in front of the band.
I also enjoyed the trolley item, in no small part because I live one house away from what used to be the trolley car tracks in my Washington neighborhood. It was the line that ran up along the Potomac, ending in Glen Echo Maryland, where there is an historic amusement park built long ago by the trolley company. The business model worked like this: Build an amusement park at the end of the trolley line, and you could take the trolley system’s largely unused weekend electricity and use it to power the rides. Getting to the park also gave people a reason to ride the trolley on the weekends. Sadly, the trolley was killed off about 1980. But the amusement park is going strong. The only ride left is a gorgeous 1920s Denzel carousel to which my kids (and I ) are devoted. The bumper car pavillion has been turned into an open-air dance space. Other buildings have been turned into art studios, a puppet theater and a children’s theater.
But the most extraordinary thing at the park is the Spanish Ballroom. Built in the 1930s it has been beautifully restored and it continues to host a remarkably vibrant dance scene. Saturday nights are for the swing dance crowd, but other nights of the week host tango, contra, waltz etc. I was there with my big band in August, and we played for about 600 very sweaty dancers. (For authenticity’s sake, air-conditioning was never installed in the ballroom.) It’s great fun playing for dancers — the rhythm takes on a whole new meaning. And when we play for dances, part of the fun is the feeling that we’re keeping a neglected part of the jazz tradition alive.
It is good to know that this splendid remnant of the American past exists. Most such dance pavilions faded away with the passing of two other great American institutions, the swing era and urban rail transporation.