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It was, indeed, full of thudding tomtoms, sizzling cymbals and gongs. Much of it had an undulating, tropical beat that might have emerged from Africa, and its saxes wailed and its brasses growled in cheerful ill temper. The titles, themselves an important part of the magical atmosphere, were such things as East St. Louis Toodle-oo, The Mooche, Creole Love Call and Black and Tan Fantasy. By that time, Composer Ellington was already making some of his important innovations; e.g., the use of a wordless soprano as if she were a musical instrument, and compositions of unusual length for a jazz band (his Reminiscing in Tempo was spread over four record sides).
Duke Ellington really started to get around. Recalls one of Duke's former managers: "I've traveled all over with him. I've seen Duke between a real duke and lady-so-and-so, and when he's dressed in those tails, he's as fine a gentleman as England could produce.
"Duke and his band played in England during the Economic Conference, in 1933. They were playing in Lord Beaverbrook's tremendous palace at a party. Jack Hylton's band played waltzes till midnight, and Duke took over at midnight. This mob, they'd never heard music like that. I was standing with Beaverbrook and Lady Mountbatteri. We Were watching all of these dignitaries, all diamonds and medals and what not. Beaverbrook was so taken with the music, and he said the mob was like a bunch of kids. He asked me questions about the band. I explained this was swing music. The Duke has the type of rhythm that more or less gets into your veins when you're dancing. Beaverbrook wrote an editorial about us."*
Quick Fix. In those days Negroes were still segregated on Broadway. Duke recalls going to work at a nightclub called the Hurricane, which he found a good spot until he began getting complaints from his Harlem friends; not one of them had been able to get in. Ellington spoke to the owner, and it was not long before the doors were opened. Duke is not a militant foe of segregation. He plays for segregated audiences on his annual swings through the South—"everybody does"—and feels lucky that there has never been an incident.
In 1926 Duke met an agent and lyric writer named Irving Mills, and Mills became manager of the band as well as Ellington's personal representative and partner. Out of this relationship came Duke's most successful years as a composer and bandleader, almost in spite of himself. "Oh yes," Mills would say, offhandedly, waving his fat cigar. "We've got a recording date tomorrow. Four new songs." Or, "Oh yes. We're going to introduce a new big work next week." Creole Rhapsody, Duke's first composition of greater than pop-tune dimensions (1932), came about after one of Manager Mills's press conferences. At that time Creole Rhapsody was just another little tune. A reporter wanted to know how come it was called "rhapsody," and Mills offhandedly said that it was "part of a larger work." And Duke Ellington, too proud to let his manager down, and unwilling to let such a whopper stand, produced the music on time—or almost on time.