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Clifford Brown Symposium: “Brownie Speaks” University of the Arts

Philadelphia, PA 10/30/08-11/1/08

“Where’s the Jelly at?”

Toward a Further Understanding of the Roots of Clifford Brown’s Enduring Reverence in the Jazz Community

Howard Gillis, Ph.D. Associate Clinical Professor, University of California San Francisco Medical Center

Private Practice, Clinical Psychology, San Francisco and Mill Valley, CA Tel. (415) 346-2234

Email: howard_gillis@hotmail.com

I would like to say first that I am a bit daunted about being here — not only to be in the

presence of jazz scholars and musicians whom I admire greatly, but also to be in the

presence of people who have played with and have had the honor of knowing Clifford

Brown. This presentation is far more difficult than speaking at any psychology

conference at which I have ever presented, yet way more exciting. My thanks go

especially to Nick Catalano and Alan Hood for their pioneering and groundbreaking

efforts in examining Clifford Brown’s life. I hope very much that my remarks are not

considered presumptuous or ill founded, and I offer my thoughts in the spirit of ongoing

dialogue.

I am a psychologist who happened to fall in love with jazz, and I, like so many others,

came to develop an initial fascination with and interest in Clifford Brown out of a sense

of sheer awe of the music. I remember hearing Joy Spring for the first time while driving

in my car and I simply could not continue; I had to pull over until it was finished. How

much joy Clifford Brown has passed on to others from the joy he first experienced that

spring upon meeting Larue, his wife to be. Surely, I thought, this music must in some

way reflect a person of depth and sensitivity and complexity to say nothing of self-

discipline and incredible talent. One’s spontaneous musical compositions certainly say

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something about the person who performs them; much as the accomplished visual artist’s

spontaneous upwelling of creativity may say something essential about him or her, or the

way in which Jamie Moyer fashions an amazing game 3 World Series Performance for

the Phillies, says something about him. Yet, surely, also, the relationship between these

productions and the people who produce them is complex. We must, of course, be

careful, even skeptical, of any simple or direct inferences or extensions from product to

person or vice versa. Chet Baker’s improvisations, for example, for all their lyricism and

musical beauty might suggest a person of great sensitivity or even over sensitivity, yet we

know also that he was a person capable of much insensitivity and self-centeredness.

So, I came to be curious about this man, Clifford Brown, who produced such intricate and

moving creations. However, I must make explicit something that you might know

already. Psychologists are well trained in analyzing a life, in finding the difficulties and

problems in a person’s life’s story. Many psychologists, in the interest of healing, are

concerned primarily with discovering conflicts, or in defining and identifying illness or

pathology. And some psychologists approach a life story from this standpoint as well; for

example, attempting to find the family pathology that led to a person’s unhappiness, or

examining an artist’s childhood conflicts in order to find the sources of his or her

creativity. I am reminded of a cartoon, which shows a therapist talking to his patient. The

therapist says, “It’s not likely that I can help you with feeling better, but I can provide a

compelling narrative for your misery.” Describing and analyzing a life story from the

standpoint of pathology, conflict and illness then is not such an uncommon approach to

biography. It’s not that problems and difficulties aren’t important to look at. No life really

is free of its fair share of difficulties and problems, but it is not this approach to Clifford

Brown’s life that particularly interests me.

On the other end of the continuum regarding viewing biography lies an uncritical wish

for and need for heroes. We all need images of heroic endeavor as models to strive for

and towards. Yet I think also that we need to be aware of our tendency to over-idealize

others with the inevitable consequences of disappointment or self-diminishment or both.

And especially in circumstances where we are faced with the task of dealing with

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premature death, we may be prone to idealize the deceased as an attempt perhaps on our

part to deal with just how angry we are with the person for leaving. One might

understandably assign Clifford Brown godlike status, but as extraordinary a musician and

a person as Clifford Brown was, and I hope to address more fully the issue of just in what

way I regard him to be an extraordinary individual, I am not so much interested in

presenting an idealized view of his life, nor is his legacy best served by presenting such a

perspective. He was a human being, of course, and it is in his extraordinary humanness

that we find his greatness, not in some fantasy or ideally conceived view of him.

So I am not particularly interested in examining Clifford Brown’s life from the

perspective of pathology, nor am I interested especially in discussing his godlike status.

Rather, I am interested in those pivotal occurrences in a person’s life that reveal

something novel or inexplicit about a person’s overall character. I am interested in

moments that reveal the presence (or absence) of prior experiences, beliefs, and resources

that were heretofore unknown either to others or to the person himself or herself;

resources, for example, that we didn’t know we had until we were put in a given

situation, or moments that might reveal a certain resilience of character. As such, these

moments also reveal a certain degree of preparedness or readiness to face challenge; they

indicate what came before and what is called up in the present. Levels of preparedness

vary of course and even with a high degree of readiness there is no guarantee of

successful resolution in the kinds of situations that I have in mind. These moments can be

life changing, leading to profound positive or negative consequences.

Clifford Brown’s crucible, the set of circumstances where he was subjected to forces that

tested him, came in the summer of 1950 when he was 19 years old, and already a

relatively accomplished musician. As recounted in Nick Catalano’s artful biography of

Clifford Brown, Clifford had finished playing a gig at a party, and while riding in a car

with three friends, a deer suddenly appeared in the road. The car swerved, overturned and

crashed. The driver and his girlfriend were killed. Clifford and the other passenger were

critically injured. Clifford’s injuries were so extensive that his life was threatened. Bones

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were broken in his torso and both legs. He subsequently wore a full body cast for months.

He had skin grafts that reached from his ankle to his armpits. Difficulties with his

shoulder socket would make supporting his trumpet initially impossible and then very

painful for months to come.

From a psychological point of view, this event would pose huge demands on anyone’s

psyche. By any definition, this event would qualify as traumatic. It was sudden, intense

and life threatening and as such could easily lead to ongoing emotional disruption. Being

present at the traumatic loss of friends under such violent and sudden circumstances

could certainly shake one’s world to the core. For Clifford, the life threatening nature of

these events and the images of the accident that likely followed could easily lead to

ongoing anxiety, perhaps nightmares and sleeplessness. We know also that an

individual’s mourning process is much more complicated when death has been

experienced under traumatic circumstance; and coming to terms with traumatic

circumstance is much more difficult when an individual also experiences the death of

friends or relatives. The disruption of Clifford’s career path, his inability to practice, and

his unavailability to perform, naturally led to sadness, depression, even despair at times.

The ongoing pain and physical constraint that he experienced must have been very

challenging to deal with in their own right, and to the extent that they served as reminders

of the traumatic experience itself they would have been even more difficult to deal with.

The press of these overwhelmingly horrible and negative images on the mind are not

easily quieted nor put in their place so that a person can continue going on freely and

happily. Lying there relatively immobilized must have been torturous for the 19 year old.

As if this weren’t enough for Clifford to deal with at this point in his life. About a month

after the accident Clifford’s mentor, friend and source of deep musical inspiration, Fats

Navarro, died at the age of 26 due to complications arising from heroin addiction and

tuberculosis. Clifford heard the news while in the hospital. Later, when asked in a

questionnaire by Leonard Feather to name his favorite trumpet players, Clifford wrote

just one name, Fats Navarro. And Larue Brown Watson, Clifford’s widow, in a 1980

interview with Feather said, “(Clifford) idolized Fats Navarro. That was his heart.” So,

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this was an immense loss for Brown amidst the others that he was experiencing. The loss

of friends, the loss of his mobility, the loss of his good health and the loss of his capacity

to play his trumpet, the loss of a beloved mentor. How could one not experience a sense

of anger, despair and hopelessness?

In all likelihood Clifford did experience these feelings but, importantly, he gradually

found his way clear of them. His convalescence was a long one no doubt. Several

months after the accident while recuperating at his parents’ home, though he was in

substantial pain, he picked up his horn and practiced it throughout the day. Despite his

courage and determination, he had to stop, however, as the healing process of his

shoulder did not progress and the pain was intolerable-- more despair and hopelessness,

yet he found his way back to music — first via the piano at the time when he could not

hold up his trumpet, and eventually, he began playing his trumpet again. He certainly

received encouragement during these rough times, most notably from Dizzy Gillespie

who paid him a visit in the hospital and told him that he had to keep going. This no doubt

made a huge impression on the young and developing musician. How important for him

to be acknowledged and encouraged this way. And, after his hospitalization, while still

convalescing at his aunt’s home, he reportedly had many friends and family members

who visited. How important also to have this source of support from loved ones.

These sources of support and encouragement are very important after the experience of

trauma and injury, of course, but it is not this support alone that explains his recovery.

Many people under similarly extremely difficult circumstances receive encouragement

and support yet these overtures fall on deaf ears. They are not taken in as sources of help

in order to move forward and beyond the anxiety and despair. To state it from another

angle, there has to be a kind of readiness and psychological availability to truly take in

these sources of support and use them in the service of healing. Clifford Brown possessed

this readiness and possessed an uncommon inner strength to move beyond these

traumatic events and in fact to use this experience to fuel his musical and personal

development. So how do we then understand Clifford’s capacity to move beyond the

trauma? For this, we must look elsewhere in his development. We’ll look to Brown’s

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family and social context, as well as his likely biological endowment and personality

factors. So, first a psychologist’s attempt at capturing the tone of Clifford’s upbringing

and childhood experiences as they provide some clues about the sources of his resilience

and inner strength and determination.

As a junior high school student, Clifford Brown was brought for trumpet lessons to

Robert Lowery a noted teacher and performer with the Aces of Rhythm. In an interview

with Nick Catalano, Mr. Lowery was asked to evaluate Clifford Brown as a student.

Lowery showed no hesitation in his response. Clifford Brown was not the most talented

of those students whom Lowery was teaching. And Ben Cashman, the manager of the

Aces of Rhythm, a trumpet player himself, upon hearing Clifford play at the time at

which he began to study with Mr. Lowery said, as quoted in Nick Catalano’s book, “I

never thought he would amount to anything to tell you the truth. He had such poor tone

and he was so sloppy.” It seems that Clifford was no child prodigy. Yet when Cashman

heard Clifford play 2 years later, he said, “I never heard anything like it in my life…How

could a guy get that kind of technique in that short a time? I’ll never forget it!” So when

Catalano asked Lowery to account for what made Clifford so accomplished, Lowery

responded, “Because he was determined to succeed,” and Lowery slapped his hand down

hard for emphasis on the arm of the sofa on which he was sitting as he said the word

“determined.”

The roots of Clifford’s sense of determination run deep to his upbringing, to his family

and also to the community within which he was raised. Clifford’s father had clear

expectations for his children and did not shy from making it known to them with a firm

hand as needed. He was a loving father, and when it came to conveying the importance

of work and responsibility, he was forthright in his discipline. Clifford’s father himself,

with persistence, drive and a firm hand worked hard to instill a serious approach to music

and education in his children. All of his eight children were involved in music either

vocally or instrumentally. Mr. Brown appears to have been quite a determined man on

his own account. It is reported by his son Leon that he played the same tune for twenty

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years – now that’s determination. What must it have been like for his family to hear that

tune over and over again for all those years?

Clifford in many ways was quite fortunate to have been raised in the familial and social

context that he was raised in. He lived in a close-knit community that very much valued

close social relationship, as well as educational achievement and accomplishment. As I

understand it, as Clifford Brown was growing up in East Wilmington, he likely

experienced a community that valued and exhibited pride and self-respect. Precision and

exacting standards were quite evident in the Brown family. As noted in Catalano’s book,

a child would ask, “Where’s the jelly at?” And the answer would be “right in back of the

preposition.” Importantly, against an historical and social backdrop of oppression and

disadvantage, this was a community and a family within a community that developed an

inner strength and sense of purpose and resolve in the face of tough times, in response to

and as an outgrowth of this historical backdrop. As Catalano states, “Many of the

Delaware East Siders struggled fiercely to overcome the legacy of unjust laws governing

education and social and economic status, but the toughness woven into their ethos

because of slavery gave them enormous strength.” (Page 9) So this was Clifford Brown’s

inheritance, and he took it in for himself and used it well. This was his context, the fabric

of his life. In this sense, the security and support of his upbringing stands in contrast to

the formative years of many other jazz musicians. For example, Parker’s father left the

family when Parker was 10 years old; Gillespie and Mingus were beaten by their fathers.

Clifford was considered to be a bright boy; his sister, Rella, reports that he started reading

before he entered school and that “he did everything fast.” He is described as a quiet and

easygoing child, even shy, with a big heart. As the youngest in his family, he quickly

became adored by his parents. In all likelihood he was an easy and rewarding child to

parent. It is also quite possible that he was biologically endowed with what psychologists

refer to as an easy temperament; such children from a very early age have the capacity to

deal well with changes in their environment, have an ability to roll with the punches, are

relatively easy to read as infants, are good natured and even tempered, and have a good

capacity to accommodate to the needs of others as well as hold their own ground as

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needed. This biological endowment, if you will, is important to note because it seems to

figure importantly in the development of the capacity to be resilient when faced with

traumatic situations. Clifford seemed to have the capacity from a relatively early age to

take in the aforementioned values, to take in these experiences of connection with others

and to take in the support they provided and develop a sense of self-respect. He had the

capacity to take in his parents’ adoration and develop his own strong sense of self-value

and self-worth; amidst the climate of valuing accomplishment, hard work and

achievement, he was able to bear the responsibility of hard work and achieve much in his

all too short life; and against the historical backdrop of disadvantage and oppression he

developed an inner strength and even a quiet fierceness.

Clifford Brown is often described as a quiet, humble and even shy person. Yet his

quietness and humility belied an inner fortitude and fierceness that can be seen

throughout his life; in his playing, in the self-discipline and determination with which he

approached his practicing (his wife Larue talked of his practicing incessantly, for

example), and in his approach to competition. Art Farmer talked of Brown’s skill and

power as a soloist as the two were on stage going head to head during their days with the

Lionel Hampton band in Europe; Brown was so fierce in his playing that he nearly had

Farmer, by his own admission, shaking in his boots. Yet despite the fierce competition

between the two of them and the fact that Farmer thought that Brown was the superior

trumpet player, Farmer could not bring himself to dislike Brown. It certainly would be

understandable enough if Farmer had held some animosity toward Brown given the

fierceness of the competition. So why couldn’t he bring himself to dislike Brown?

Simply, it was due to Brown’s welcoming spirit, generosity and his big heart. Yet clearly,

Brown was not one dimensionally just a nice, easy going guy. During the time with

Hampton in Europe, despite Hampton’s edict against independent recording, Brown,

along with some others, ambitious, absolutely determined to record his music, self-

assured, rebellious, surreptitiously made recordings despite Hampton’s wrath. With the

risk of being fired and sent home without plane fare, here too we find his fierce

determination. His solos, too, reflect not only sheer joy and heartfulness, but fierceness as

well; we need only, for example, listen to his solo on Donna Lee.

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So to the question of whether adversity builds character or reveals it, from the standpoint

of Brown’s social and familial context, and perhaps also from the standpoint of his

biological endowment, he showed a kind of readiness to deal with trauma though he nor

others might not have known how ready he was. Brown’s life threatening accident at

nineteen shows us something of his underlying capacity to deal with adversity, and the

character that he brought to it, in moving beyond it and undertaking the arduous process

of getting his chops back – this trauma did not crush him. He experienced depression,

despair and hopelessness, the loss of his ability to play, loss of his mobility, the deaths of

his friends, the loss of an important mentor, and he experienced the impact of a traumatic

automobile accident- with all of the anxiety provoking memories that likely result. Yet

he came into this tragic situation with a strong foundation – with an inner strength and

resolve that grew out of generations having the experience of adversity, and fortitude

developed through the medium of loving and caring family relationships coupled with

expectations for hard work and accomplishment.

So Brown gradually came out of this tragic situation that occupied his life for nearly a

year (and throughout the rest of his life if we consider that his shoulder would continue to

periodically become dislocated, and that he was left with a limp). As Brown got stronger

and regained his chops he felt the lure of Philadelphia clubs once again. In the spring of

1951, at 20 years of age, he played with Charlie Parker. In a 1954 Downbeat interview

with Nat Hentoff, Brown acknowledged that Parker helped his morale greatly during his

extended recovery period. As Catalano notes, importantly, both Parker and Gillespie

were key figures in helping Brown decide to solely focus on playing and leave his

academic career behind. Indeed, their support was a testament to the promise that this

young trumpet player held.

Yet I wonder, too, if Brown’s life threatening accident itself was a pivotal moment for

him psychologically. Here was a situation where he nearly lost his life. He lost friends,

lost his ability to play, and lost an important mentor. Is there a more powerful set of

circumstances to wake one up to what is important? If this experience wouldn’t lead to a

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sense of urgency and a re-examination of purpose in one’s life, what would? We know

that when an individual experiences a traumatic incident with extreme life threat, a

heightened awareness of just how short and precious life is, can result; one experiences

with a new immediacy that the possibility exists that one might not live for very long. It

would be understandable, even likely, that this message was brought home to Clifford in

all of its directness. In this context I can’t help but think of the many comments from

those who have heard him play that describe him as “playing like there’s no tomorrow.”

Parker and Gillespie provided unequaled support and encouragement. Yet might it be

likely as well that Clifford’s decision to devote himself single mindedly to his music at

this point in his life derived from his experience of trauma, as difficult as it was, that

helped him realize and acknowledge just what was truly important to him. He did not

return to school after his recuperation. This period of time perhaps facilitated his truly

finding himself, finding his true purpose, and affirming with particular force that which

he was most passionate about – his playing – and propelled him to devote himself even

more fully and single-mindedly to it. This is such an important task of adolescence and

young adulthood: to hone in on and define one’s sense of direction in life. In finding

ourselves and our sense of purpose, most of us thankfully don’t have to face as dramatic

and life threatening a trial as did Brown, yet these moments that help us to achieve

clarity, purpose and direction are not unusual and happen not infrequently. Perhaps you

have your own examples.

So, a year of his short life lost to this accident and its aftermath? I think not, as it likely

provided Clifford with a new sense of clarity about his life’s work. Now, it must be said

that, of course, Clifford’s love of and devotion to music and his trumpet playing were

clearly evident before this accident; yet I am also suggesting that it is likely that a new

sense of urgency and clarity about it all entered his life. Perhaps he would not have

become the musician he was without this so called “lost year.”

So we find in this look at Brown’s life a useful illustration of his strength of character.

The resilience that he showed in meeting this challenge can be seen elsewhere in his life

as well. Sonny Rollins states, as quoted in a 2006 Washington Post article by Matt

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Schudel, “Clifford was a clean living person. That was a tremendous influence on me, to

see that a guy who could play at that high level was clean of drugs.” Insofar as Charlie

Parker presented a model for the importance of and perhaps even of the essentiality of

drugs for some developing jazz musicians, and given Rollins prominence, this is no small

comment. Rollins remarks echo the comments of many who knew Brown. Max Roach

stated that Brown “was so stable and together that he had the foresight to insure himself

to the hilt” (in Gardener, The Legacy of Clifford Brown, Downbeat Magazine, 10/12/61).

Quincy Jones said in an August, 1956 tribute article in Downbeat Magazine, “To me, the

name of Clifford Brown will always remain synonymous with the very essence of

musical and moral maturity.”

According to historical reports as well as available research, to remain drug free as a jazz

musician in the 40’s and 50’s was no easy task. For example, a British psychologist, Dr.

Geoffrey Wills, studied the biographies of 40 prominent jazz musicians who played

important roles in the era of American jazz dating from 1945 to 1960. He concluded that

jazz musicians were eight times more likely to suffer with problems of drug dependency

than the rest of the population during this period of time. Among the musicians he

studied, more than half were dependent on heroin at some point in their lives. Over 25%

of the musicians were dependent on alcohol and 15% abused it at some point in their

lives.

So how do we understand Brown’s “clean living” in Rollins words, and his “moral

maturity” in Jones’ words? In short, how did he remain drug free and uninfluenced by the

drug culture? The psychological literature has something to say about people who are

exposed to greater than normal risk environments regarding exposure to alcohol and

drugs. There appear to be three broad categories of so called protective factors that serve

to protect a person from whatever risk of substance abuse he or she may be exposed to;

first, characteristics of the individual; second, characteristics of the community in which

the individual is raised; and third, characteristics of the individual’s family environment.

These factors include child personality characteristics of an easy temperament, a spirit

of independence and autonomy, self-discipline, and the sense of personal effectiveness.

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Some community attributes that appear to be protective are: the presence of good

schools, and schools that promote learning participation and responsibility, a non-kin

support network, a low prevalence of neighborhood crime, good healthcare, adequate

housing, and low unemployment. Family characteristics include the presence of a

multigenerational kinship network, a structured and nurturing family with parents who

promote learning, a warm and close personal relationship with parents, little marital

conflict, family stability and closeness, plenty of attention during the first year of life, the

availability of siblings as caretakers or confidantes, and clear guidelines for behavior.

Importantly, Clifford Brown’s upbringing contains many of these important factors: a

strong, supportive neighborhood; a structured and loving family; a personality style

characterized by determination, self-discipline and care for others.

As stated earlier, Brown was in a sense lucky to have been raised in such a caring family

and community, and he was likely endowed with personality attributes that allowed him

to benefit optimally from his environment and develop musically and personally. He had

a clear and solid foundation from which to develop moral integrity, care for himself, and

care for others. And with the support of his family, the strong valuation of music that

existed, and the fostering of self-discipline and determination, Clifford Brown took his

talents to the highest levels.

There has been much speculation as to what would have come to jazz and how would

Clifford Brown have continued to develop as a musician had he lived. Who knows?

Many musicians reach their peak in their mid 20’s. It’s an important and compelling and

sad question, but ultimately a futile exercise and a question that’s impossible to answer.

The exercise is just as futile as wondering what kind of person Clifford might have

become, yet we can’t, in a way, help asking the question. If past behavior is any predictor

of future behavior, and as it turns out, past behavior is indeed one of the best predictors of

future behavior, we would have to be encouraged about the likelihood of Clifford Brown

continuing to be a positive force in the jazz world, as tantalizingly painful as that thought

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is. In 1953, during the tour with Hampton’s band, when Clifford was nearly 23, Quincy

Jones was interviewed about Brown. He said,

“About Clifford Brown, I’ll put it like this. If any musician of the present day can be compared to Parker, it’s Clifford. I can honestly say that he is the most unblossomed talent of this generation. He should not only be judged by his present talent (which is still of superior quality) but by its potentialities. Charlie Parker and Dizzy Gillespie and all the other influences were not judged until they reached maturity. It takes a young musician many years to rid the mind of clichés and to unscramble the millions of young ideas into what it takes to make a mature and original musical influence. By knowing Clifford very well, I’m aware of his sensitivity and superior taste; he will never lower his standards and play without sincere feeling, whatever the mood. He is a young musician in age but already a comparatively mature one in ideas. When he matures in his own standards, I do believe he will be a major jazz influence. He is the kind of person who would excel at anything attempted.”

Thankfully and happily the power of Clifford Brown’s example as a life lived is timeless.

This life example can’t help but inspire to bring out the best in us all.