Jazz,
The meaning of it,
Is as evasive as silence.
Name one who could
Accurately define this
Passional art that slices
And churns one's senses
Into so many delicate
barbarous
And uncountable patterns.
But alas for me
One definition would suffice.
Jazz (n). Edward Kennedy Ellington.
Also known as Duke, Big Red, Monster,
due, duk, ducem
After the gloom-ridden world of crime, going on the road with Duke Ellington was like a trip through paradise. I had been seventeen when I first saw Duke in back of the Orpheum Theater in Minneapolis, Minnesota. He had arrived in a cream-colored LaSalle convertible driven by Big Nate, a racketeer off the Northside. Elegantly attired, Ellington alighted and began making his way through a bunch of admirers. I scrambled up and shoved a piece of paper into his face for an autograph. Big Nate shoved me back, saying, "Get the hell out of here, kid!"
Ellington had gently reprimanded him. "We don't treat our public like that, Nate." He motioned me forward, asked my name, and signed my paper. He had dubbed me "Sir Gordon," and I went about addressing myself with that title for weeks.
Ellington had always been my hero. Unlike other black Hollywood stereotypes he never grinned, he smiled; he never shuffled, he strode. It was always, "Good evening, ladies and gentlemen"; never "How y'all doing?" At his performances we young blacks sat high in our seats, wanting the whites to see us; to know that this handsome, elegant, sharply dressed man playing that beautiful, sophisticated music, was one of us.
Now he had invited me to tour with his band. And what a band! Traveling with it was a journey of sweet madness: standing offstage each night, watching the curtain go up, overpowered by that stomping, riveting sound as Duke strode onstage waving, chirping, "We love you madly!" Then he would slide gracefully under the keyboard, his fingers thumping a staccato beat, bringing the band rocking to their feet. I remember Sammy Woodyard drumming the brass section to frenzied madness, and Johnny Hodges stepping out front-legs akimbo, alto sax deadcenter of his soul, infuriating the trumpets and trombones with that arrogant, elegant sound. The brass would scream back and Cootie Williams's trumpet would growl as Hodges contemptuously booted out his last arrogant note to applause, applause, applause, and more applause. Then Ellington would rise, shouting, "Johnny Hodges! Johnny Hodges! Thank you, ladies and gentlemen. That was 'Things Ain't What They Used To Be,' written especially for me by my forty-year-old son Mercer on my sixteenth birthday—about four years ago." It was like that every night.
Ellington was soul. Ellington was music as it had never been played before or since. Ellington was greatness. He called himself the piano player in the band. But his real instrument was the band itself, and each night he put every fiber of himself into it, and that instrument could unfold as a flower or explode like a bomb.
-Excerpt from Gordon Parks, “Duke Ellington: ‘Big Red,’” in To Smile in Autumn: A Memoir, 1979.
By 1960, Duke Ellington was firmly established as a towering figure in jazz, with a career spanning over four decades. He was known for blending tradition with innovation to create groundbreaking compositions and orchestral arrangements. Ellington was not only a celebrated bandleader but also a cultural ambassador for jazz, bringing his music to global audiences and bridging artistic, social, and racial divides. In 1960, Ellington invited Gordon Parks to join him on tour across the United States, in recording sessions, and other everyday activities. The photographs Parks took, remarkable in their range, demonstrate his unique ability to capture in equal measure individuals’ intimate, unguarded moments as well as their most commanding, impactful presence. Although these were submitted to Life magazine, they were never published. Still, in many ways, they presage the assignments Parks carried out with Malcolm X and Muhammad Ali in the years that followed.
In the summer of 1960, Ellington found himself on the West Coast for a series of engagements, including recording sessions at Columbia Records' Los Angeles studio. Ellington’s recording sessions during this time featured a stellar cast of musicians from his orchestra: Among them were Paul Gonsalves, whose tenor saxophone was known for its thrilling solos; Aaron Bell, providing rich and steady bass lines; Jimmy Hamilton, a master of the clarinet and tenor saxophone; Johnny Hodges, celebrated for his smooth and soulful alto sax; Russell Procope, whose clarinet and alto sax added texture to the ensemble; and Britt Woodman, whose trombone added depth and warmth to the brass section. Collaborating closely with Irving Townsend, a trusted producer, as well as Billy Strayhorn, his longtime arranger and composer, Ellington produced arrangements that showcased the unique talents of his orchestra while pushing the boundaries of jazz as an art form. On stage, Ellington was more than a bandleader—he was the orchestra’s heartbeat, conducting with charisma and precision. His music brought to life the vibrant interplay of his bandmates, capturing the spirit of jazz in performances that were as sophisticated as they were electrifying.
Parks captured Ellington in the studio and on stage, creating images that reverberate with his energy—from quiet contemplation to his exhilarating connection with audiences. Also included among the photographs are everyday moments that further underscore the mutual admiration and trust between the two artists: Quiet breaks in hotel rooms after all-night work sessions; socializing at the Fairmont Hotel with Lena Horne, the legendary singer and actress, and jazz historian Patricia Williard, who documented Ellington’s career; and a visit to Sy DeVore, the renowned tailor on Vine Street in Hollywood, to ensure his style always matched his stage presence. As a whole, these images reflect the vitality of Ellington’s career in 1960, a year that reaffirmed his enduring influence on the world of music.
On April 10, 2024, Jason Moran, jazz pianist, composer, and Kennedy Center Artistic Director for Jazz, performed Solo Ellington at The Kennedy Center, a "piano climb up Mount Ellington." This performance of Ellington’s music, reimagined for piano, was paired with a backdrop display of images of The Duke by Gordon Parks, each hand-selected by Moran from The Gordon Parks Foundation’s archive. The event was an extraordinary tribute to the composer’s and photographer’s enduring legacies.