Sundays with Duke #29: Cootie’s Big Moment

As we step into the 1940s, Duke Ellington and His Famous Orchestra is firing on all cylinders!

Billy Strayhorn had joined the fold in 1939, bringing his brilliant compositional mind; Jimmy Blanton was redefining what the bass could be; and in early 1940, the great tenor saxophonist Ben Webster arrived to complete one of the most storied editions of the band. Duke had also split from Irving Mills and begun a new chapter with Victor Records.

A Trumpet Triumph

We open this run of classics with a showcase for a star who had already been lighting up the band for years — Cootie Williams — in the immortal Concerto for Cootie.

Here’s the Victor recording from March 1940:

What a spectacular spotlight for one of the true trumpet giants.

The Ellington orchestra kept the piece in its book for radio broadcasts and personal appearances, even after Cootie left the band, though they didn’t return to it in the studio for quite some time.

Ray Rises to the Occasion

For example, here’s Ray Nance taking the lead on a 1944 broadcast excerpt:

Ray, of course, stepped into Cootie’s chair — and this shows just how capably he carried the mantle.

Title Trouble

The melody soon took on a second life when Bob Russell added lyrics and it became the popular song Do Nothin’ ’Til You Hear from Me. To my ears, though, that’s a separate tune; the original remains Concerto for Cootie!

Things get interesting with this 1945 aircheck of Cootie performing essentially the original arrangement with his own band — but it’s announced as Do Nothin’ ’Til You Hear from Me:

Whatever the title, the music still hits!

Cootie's "New" Take

Cootie later revisited the piece for his 1958 RCA Victor album Cootie Williams in Stereo:

I often see this listed as New Concerto for Cootie, though the label itself doesn’t include the “new.” And now the composer credit has shifted to Cootie rather than Duke — another twist in the tune’s long life.

Cat Comes Calling

And just for fun, here’s a fascinating contrast: a 1958 French recording by former Ellington trumpeter Cat Anderson:

A completely different energy — and a joy to hear.

We’ll dig a bit more into the Do Nothin’ ’Til You Hear from Me variation tomorrow. But for sheer impact, it’s hard to top the original.

Threaded Thursday: How They Hypnotize

From yesterday’s detour into the 1938 Mercer/Warren tune that felt like it should’ve been in a Warner Bros. picture (Something Tells Me), we follow the thread to a 1938 Mercer/Warren song that actually was in a Warner Bros. movie: Jeepers Creepers, introduced in Going Places.

The song wasn’t just a hit — it was a big hit, Academy Award–nominated and instantly absorbed into the bloodstream of American pop.

We'll be spinning versions from its 1938–39 moment of peak popularity, let’s drop the needle...

Satchmo Starts the Spell

Louis Armstrong introduced the tune in the film and then cut his Decca version in January 1939:

It’s hard not to treat this as the definitive reading — the one that sets the hypnotic pattern.

Ethel Enters

But Satch wasn’t first in the studio. That honor goes to the wonderful Ethel Waters, who recorded it for Bluebird in November 1938:

I don’t usually slot Ethel into the novelty lane, but she handles the material with real ease.

Ford's Focus

Ford

Victor handed the tune to Larry Clinton, with Ford Leary on the vocal:

Ford was also a trombonist, so he’s similar to the Tex Beneke/Sully Mason side character, but not from the sax section and Ford was his middle name, not a nickname.

Pops' Swing Wing

Jack

Then there’s the king of the singer/trombonists, Jack Teagarden, singing with The Four Modernaires and Paul Whiteman’s Swing Wing for Decca:

Always fascinating to hear the Modernaires before their Miller years.

And yes — this is the version used in the 2001 horror film Jeepers Creepers. Not my beat either.

Paula's Peepers

Future Modernaires partner Paula Kelly sings it with Al Donahue’s band on Vocalion:

I’ll say it again: Paula was an underrated canary.

Leo Leaps In

Leo on left, Gene on right

The wonderfully unpredictable Leo Watson gives a relatively “straight” vocal with Gene Krupa on Brunswick:

“Straight” being a very relative term in Leo‑land! Hear more Leo here.

The Mills Make Eyes

A terrific Mills Brothers version — issued by Brunswick only in England at the time:

It sounds exactly like what the Mills Brothers singing Jeepers Creepers in 1939 should sound like!

Ambrose & Evelyn Abroad

While we’re in England, here's Ambrose and his Orchestra with Evelyn Dall on British Decca:

A sharp, stylish arrangement — very Ambrose.

Hot Club Creeping

Then to France for the Quintette of the Hot Club of France:

Django and Grappelly never miss!

A Four‑Vocalist Free‑for‑All

We close with a Benny Goodman Camel Caravan aircheck from January 17, 1939 — four vocalists, each taking a turn. I won't spoil who they are, Johnny Mercer will let you know:

You can probably guess who I think walked away with it.

And One More Cartoon Thread

Before we leave the hypnotic spell of this tune: I have to mention that there was a 1939 Looney Tune titled Jeepers Creepers. A fun watch — and another place where the song’s DNA seeped into the culture.

And yet, after all this spinning…we're still no closer to knowing where those peepers came from!

Word Association Wednesday: Telling Something

For today’s WAW spin‑off from Something to Live For, the logical landing point — at least for me — is the 1938 Johnny Mercer–Harry Warren tune Something Tells Me.

It had a surprisingly busy little year, popping up across labels, bands, and even an animated operating room.

Fats Starts the Conversation

The first version out of the gate was Fats Waller’s Victor recording:

Fats gives it that patented sly, side‑eye delivery — but he’s not mocking the song. He’s just letting it wink.

Bluebird Brightness: Jan Savitt & Bon Bon

Recorded just after Fats but released a bit earlier was the Bluebird entry by Jan Savitt and his Top Hatters, featuring George “Bon Bon” Tunnell:

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: Bon Bon was one of the best band vocalists of the era!

Kay’s “Sassy” Sully Session

Kay Kyser brought the tune to Brunswick with Sully Mason on the vocal:

Maybe it’s my imagination, but it always sounds like Kay introduces him as “Sassy” Sully Mason.” Sully is a prime example of one of my favorite side characters — the sax‑section guy with a fun nickname who steps up to the mic for a novelty vocal!

Sweet Bands and Bell Music

Even more gimmicky than Kyser’s late‑’30s outfit were Bert Block and his Bell Music, who cut the tune for Vocalion with Bill Johnson singing:

These late‑1930s sweet bands have a charm all their own — a kind of earnest, slightly sugary optimism.

Decca Doubles: Will Osborne & Louis Armstrong

Decca issued two versions. First up: Will Osborne with canary Janice Todd:

Those wonderfully slurpy trombones are pure period flavor too!

And then, the heavy hitter: Louis Armstrong:

Satch gives the song a little grit and credibility after all that sweetness while still keeping it fun.

Across the Pond: Silvester Steps In

For one more spin, let's hop over to England for Victor Silvester and his Ballroom Orchestra:

Silvester made mountains of dance‑oriented records, and you can practically see a couple quick‑stepping across a parquet floor to this one.

A 1938 Time Capsule

The song didn’t travel far beyond its debut year, but it remains a delightful artifact — a snapshot of how a mid‑tier pop tune could ripple across labels, bands, and styles in the late ’30s.

Warehouse Whispers

You’d think a Johnny Mercer–Harry Warren song published by Warner Bros. would’ve come from a movie. Something tells me it was probably part of a stack of tunes written by the pair — some destined for films, some left to float around the publishing department.

But all was not lost: The tune did find a second life in several Warner Bros. cartoons, most notably 1938’s The Daffy Doc:

Recognizing popular songs in Carl Stalling’s scores for Looney Tunes and Merrie Melodies never stops being a thrill — like catching a familiar face in a crowd of animated chaos!

Monday Side-Session: The Sidemen Shine in '39

Following yesterday’s look at Something to Live For, which introduced us to composer/arranger/pianist Billy Strayhorn and vocalist Jean Eldridge, today’s side-session keeps both of them in the spotlight. We’re dipping into a handful of 1939 small‑unit sides recorded for the Vocalion label — little pockets of Ellingtonia where the sidemen stretch out and the textures get wonderfully intimate.

Johnny & Jean

We start with a Johnny Hodges–led date from February, featuring Jean on vocal. Here’s Like a Ship in the Night:

Flip the disc and you get the instrumental Swingin’ on the Campus:

Jean returns for Mississippi Dream Boat:

And here’s that record’s instrumental flipside, Dooji Wooji:

You can really hear Ivie Anderson’s influence in Jean's phrasing, which makes sense given that her main role was as a relief vocalist when Ivie’s asthma kept her off the bandstand.

It’s nice that Jean got a couple of studio moments with members of the band; she’s a small but distinctive part of the Ellington story, and these sides give her a little corner of the warehouse shelf.

Billy Sits In

The next few numbers feature Billy Strayhorn sitting in on piano and contributing arrangements — early glimpses of the voice that would soon become inseparable from Duke’s.

From June, here’s the Cootie Williams–led “Blues A Poppin’”:

Billy’s piano solo is a gem, and Cootie on trumpet with Johnny on alto is always a guaranteed good time.

Cootie and Billy return for September’s Johnny Hodges–led The Rabbit’s Jump:

“The Rabbit” was one of Johnny’s nicknames — and yes, he could jump!

Next up is October’s Tired Socks, also from the Hodges unit:

I’ve always wondered about that title. Is it just a bit of whimsical nonsense, or was someone in the band making a sly comment about life on the road?

November: A New Sound Arrives

We hit November as Barney Bigard leads his unit — with Strayhorn at the piano — on Minuet in Blues:

It’s a lovely showcase for Barney’s clarinet, with Rex Stewart adding his unmistakable cornet color.

And here’s the historical kicker: Duke’s new bassist, Jimmy Blanton, had joined the band by this point and plays on this side. Duke recognized immediately that Blanton was something extraordinary, and at the same session he recorded a pair of duets with him for Columbia.

Here’s the simply titled Blues:

And the flipside, Plucked Again:

With Billy Strayhorn and Jimmy Blanton arriving in 1939 — and Ben Webster soon to join in January 1940 — the Ellington orchestra was on the brink of one of its most astonishing periods. You can feel the ground shifting under these small‑group sides.

Warehouse Whispers

Back-room bulletin from the label files

1939 wasn’t just a musical turning point — it was a business one. Duke severed his long-running relationship with Irving Mills that year, reshaping the machinery behind the band just as the music itself was evolving. A pivotal year on every front!

Sundays with Duke #28: Billy’s Bow

Opening the Door to 1939

As we step into 1939 with Duke Ellington, we immediately meet a milestone: (I Want) Something to Live For, the very first collaboration between Duke and a young Billy Strayhorn. The tune was essentially part of Billy’s job interview — one of the pieces he brought to Duke when he was auditioning his way into what would become one of the most fruitful partnerships in American music.

Jean with Duke

The Ellington band recorded the song for Brunswick with vocalist Jean Eldridge:

Duke handled the arrangement, but Billy sits in on piano — a lovely symbolic passing of the torch. Jean, usually a “relief vocalist” for Ivie Anderson for personal appearances, rarely got called for studio dates, making this session a small gem in the catalog.

The record didn’t make much noise at the time, but Duke kept the tune in the band book.

Here it is resurfacing in a 1945 aircheck featuring Marie Ellington with Billy at the piano:

A rare solo spotlight for Marie — no relation to Duke, but later married to Nat King Cole.

A Quiet Tune Wanders Out Into the World

The next studio recording seems to come from an unexpected corner: sixteen‑year‑old piano prodigy André Previn, who included it on his 1946 Sunset album Andre Previn Plays Duke Ellington:

Barry Ulanov’s liner notes mention that André didn’t know the tune before the session — a sign of how under‑the‑radar it still was.

And it's just André on that cut, not the trio.

Only one other 1940s studio version appears to exist: Lena Horne’s 1947 MGM recording, verse and all:

It was apparently released only in England at the time. Lena, a close friend of Strayhorn, likely knew the song through him rather than through its modest public life.

The 1950s: Dormant No More

As with many of the songs we’ve been dusting off in the Warehouse lately, the LP era of the 1950s brought a renewed appetite for deep‑cut Ellingtonia. Let's listen to a couple of Ellington-adjacent versions...

First up, Betty Roché from her 1956 Bethlehem album Take the A Train:

Betty crossed paths with Duke more than once — and yes, the album title is a spoiler for a future stop on our journey!

Then comes Eugenie Baird on her 1959 Design LP with the gloriously clunky title Eugenie Baird Sings – Duke’s Boys Play Duke Ellington:

Mercer Ellington — literally Duke’s boy — directs the band, and the wide stereo separation lets Ben Webster’s tenor loom large behind Eugenie's vocal.

Duke Returns to the Tune

In 1960, Duke recorded an unreleased-at-the-time instrumental version for Columbia:

It stayed in the vault until the late 1970s, but it’s a beauty.

We jump to 1962 for an Ellington‑adjacent take by Johnny Hodges, who included the tune on his Verve album The Eleventh Hour:

A brisker tempo than usual — and it works like a charm.

Duke reenters the picture in 1963 with Swedish singer Alice Babs on the Reprise album Serenade to Sweden:

Recorded in ’63, released in ’66 — a light Nordic breeze with Billy once again manning the piano bench for his song.

Also in 1966 came Ella at Duke’s Place, reuniting Ella Fitzgerald with Duke and giving us another radiant reading of the song:

Jimmy Jones, Ella's musical director at the time, sits in on piano for this one.

Full Circle: Strayhorn at the Piano

To close the loop, we return to Billy Strayhorn himself, who recorded a solo piano version in 1963 for his United Artists album The Peaceful Side:

It’s a gentle, introspective reading — the composer alone with his own melody, years after that first audition for Duke. Peaceful indeed.

A Foundation Stone

It may not have been obvious in 1939, but (I Want) Something to Live For was the first brick in a new foundation for the Ellington orchestra — the moment when Strayhorn’s voice began to intertwine with Duke’s, reshaping the band’s sound for decades to come.

Threaded Thursday: Waltzing and Swinging with Cinderella

Following yesterday’s tune, When a Prince of a Fella Meets a Cinderella, we keep the thread going with what might be the fella’s reply — the charming 1938 waltz Cinderella (Stay in My Arms).

British Beginnings

The song comes from British songwriters Jimmy Kennedy and Michael Carr, and it first appeared on record that same year courtesy of Joe Loss on Regal Zonophone, with the velvet‑voiced Chick Henderson:

Very lovely!

Ambrose Takes a Turn with Vera

Another major British bandleader, Ambrose, also took a shine to the tune in 1938. His Decca version features longtime star vocalist Vera Lynn:

It’s interesting that the lyrics weren’t gender‑flipped for Vera — perhaps the rewrite would have felt too clunky on the tongue.

Vera's Verse

Even more interesting: Vera recorded another version, in 1939, again for Decca, this time backed by The Six Debutantes:

This one includes the middle verse, which clarifies that Vera is quoting the fella’s plea to Cinderella rather than addressing Cinderella herself. A neat little narrative pivot tucked inside a pop waltz.

Glenn and Ray Crash the Ball

By 1939 the tune had crossed the Atlantic, and American bands began picking it up. Glenn Miller recorded it for Bluebird with Ray Eberle:

The Miller band was really hitting its stride here — and Glenn even steps forward with a pair of warm, confident trombone solos.

Jack Joins the Party

Of course, Glenn’s trombone was no match for the great Jack Teagarden, who both plays and sings his own version for Brunswick:

By this point the song has been fully de‑waltzed, but what a joyful, easygoing record it becomes in Jack’s hands.

Paula Brings the Pep

We return to a female vocalist with this Vocalion side by Al Donahue featuring Paula Kelly:

Paula really swings it — light on her feet, but with a little kick.

Carmen Cuts In

And for variety, here’s one more version that restores the tune to its waltz roots: Guy Lombardo and His Royal Canadians, with brother Carmen Lombardo on the vocal, for Decca:

It says something about a song when both Jack Teagarden and Carmen Lombardo can sing it as though it were tailor‑made for them!

Final Footnote: A Dance Card Full of Charmers

Cinderella has met a lot of fellas — and a few gals — along the way. Which version waltzes (or swings) its way into your heart?

Word Association Wednesday: A Modern Fairy Tale

To spin off Boy Meets Horn for this week’s Word Association, my wheels were turning for another tune with meets in the title — ideally something from around 1938. The obvious choice (to me, anyway) was the pop song When a Prince of a Fella Meets a Cinderella, subtitled A Modern Fairy Tale.

The Sisters Shine

The most popular version was by The Andrews Sisters on Decca:

This was early in the Andrews Sisters’ career, but their sound was already remarkably well‑formed — tight harmonies, crisp swing, and Patty unmistakably out front.

Bunny at the Ball

The tune also found its way to Bunny Berigan, who recorded his version for Victor with vocalist Jayne Dover:

No doubt that Bunny was assigned that song to record and wouldn't have picked it himself, but the band does a good job and Bunny’s trumpet is always great.

We had previously heard Jayne with Will Hudson, and she sang with a few other bands. An underrated canary!

Kay in the Court

Perhaps a more likely candidate to record this “Modern Fairy Tale” was Kay Kyser, who cut it for Brunswick with Harry Babbit:

The band was still leaning into the sweet‑band formula at this point, but their records from this era are consistently pleasant, and Harry's warm, easy delivery is a highlight.

Busse’s Ballroom Shuffle

We have one more record, this one by Henry Busse for Decca with vocalist Skip Morr:

I like the shuffle rhythm and always enjoy Henry’s muted trumpet.

Gracie's Glass Slipper

The first version of the song that I ever heard was not from a record, but from a radio show — The George Burns and Gracie Allen Show. Gracie sang the tune on the show from October 7, 1938:

At that time, the show was more of a variety format than the later sitcom style. George and Gracie weren’t portrayed as married yet, and Gracie was written as a bit man‑crazy. She often got a song, and her take on Prince of a Fella is pure Gracie: sweet, slightly off‑kilter, and completely endearing!

Oh, and I wasn't actually around in 1938 — I had an LP that featured a recording of that show!

Avery’s Animated Afterparty

1938 also brought us a delightful entry from Warner Bros.’ Merrie Melodies series: Cinderella Meets Fella, directed by Tex Avery. It’s full of Tex’s trademark wackiness and features an embryonic version of Elmer Fudd — still in full Egghead mode!

Cinderella and her fella were having quite a year in 1938 — on records, on the radio, and even in the cartoons. A modern fairy tale indeed!