Nat King Cole: A play and a biography

Earlier this year, in May, I saw the play I Wish You Love at the Penumbra Theatre in St. Paul. Written by Dominic Taylor, directed by Lou Bellamy, it portrays the very brief period—from November 1956 until December 1957—when Nat King Cole tried to make it on television.

Cole was by then an international jazz and pop star with many hits  ("Nature Boy," "Mona Lisa," "Unforgettable," "Too Young," "The Christmas Song," to name a few), a family, and a mansion in an old-money white neighborhood in Los Angeles, where he had lived (when he wasn't on the road) since 1948.  He had sold millions of records and earned millions of dollars for his label, Capitol.

But America wasn't ready for a black person with his own variety show, even if Mel Torme, Ella Fitzgerald, Sammy Davis Jr., and Tony Bennett showed up to perform. NBC funded it, then bounced it around the schedule. No national companies would sponsor it. "For 13 months," Cole later wrote, "I was the Jackie Robinson of television. After a trail-blazing year that shattered all the old bug-a-boos about Negroes on TV, I found myself standing there with the bat on my shoulder. The men who dictate what Americans see and hear didn't want to play ball."

The Capri reopens with a tribute to Lena Horne, Ella Fitzgerald, and Joe Williams

When: Sunday, June 21 • Where: Capri Theatre • Who: Dennis Spears, Debbie Duncan, Charmin Michelle, vocals; The Wolverines Classic Jazz Trio: Rick Carlson, piano; Keith Boyles, bass; Dick Bortolussi, drums

There should have been a parade on West Broadway this weekend to announce the reopening of the Capri Theatre. Formerly the Paradise Theater, once one of 13 movie theaters in North Minneapolis and the only one still standing, the 82-year-old building, now owned by the Plymouth Christian Youth Center, is being reborn as a performance venue and, in the words of Minneapolis Mayor R.T. Rybak, “a beacon for changing times on West Broadway.”

North Minneapolis has seen its share of troubles—gangs, crime, violence, foreclosures. You wouldn’t know it inside the Capri, with its renovated lobby and auditorium. A capital campaign calls for $9–$12 million to renovate and expand the building; current economic conditions made it necessary to do what could be done now, for under $1 million, as quickly as possible. After a “Tribute to Jeanne Arland Peterson” concert on Sunday, April 19, the Capri closed and the contractors moved in. Two months later, the lights came on for a “Tribute to Lena Horne, Ella Fitzgerald, and Joe Williams.” The premiere on Saturday night sold out; the matinee on Sunday was nearly a full house.

I’d never been to the Capri before but I liked what I saw. A brightly-lit marquee, a welcoming lobby, an intimate 240-seat theater, and some of my favorite performers on stage. A poised young PCYC graduate welcomed the crowd, director Anne Long told us a bit about the center and the Capri, and the Wolverines Classic Jazz Trio began with Neal Hefti’s upbeat “Cute.”

Charmin Michelle sang songs made famous by Lena Horne, Dennis Spears channeled Joe Williams, and Debbie Duncan brought us Ella Fitzgerald. Everyone looked fabulous, dressed to the nines. On stage were a giant vase of white calla lilies and a white chaise lounge. The band wore red boutonnieres. Classy.

Jazz education was part of the program; each singer was introduced with a bit of history about the legend to whom he or she was paying tribute. The audience, unlike most jazz audiences, was mixed, which gave Spears the green light for attempting a little call-and-response with the crowd. “Ain’t nothin’ deep about it, Minnesota,” Spears gently chided. “When we call, you respond!” By the end of the song he had most of the crowd singing “Hey, hey, the Capri’s all right!”

Michelle was her velvety self on “Stormy Weather” and “From This Moment On,” Spears brought Joe Williams home with “Every Day I Have the Blues” and “I Was Telling Her About You,” during which he displayed his acting skills. I won’t say Duncan stole the show because I enjoyed Charmin and Dennis very much, but she definitely ratcheted up the energy with Ella’s “Mr. Paganini.” Then she took us to Berlin for Ella’s 1960 performance of “Mack the Knife.” Ella won a Grammy for forgetting most of the words and famously improvising the lyrics (“And now Ella, Ella and her fellas/We’re making a wreck, what a wreck of Mack the Knife”). Duncan had to do a bit more improvising than she expected; her mic failed midway through the song. She moved to another without missing a beat.

There were a few glitches with the sound and the lighting but nothing most people probably noticed much or cared about. Two encores, “Summertime” and “Squeeze Me,” both sung by all three, brought the show to a little over an hour. Perfect matinee length IMHO. We heard hints of events to come: the return of Sanford Moore, a live recording by Spears, a “Hot Jazz Summer Nights” program starring Michelle. At a reception in the lobby afterward, people were promising to buy season tickets.

Photos from the Capri website. Photo of Charmin Michelle, Dennis Spears, and Debbie Duncan not from this performance.

Beyond Category: The Ellington and Strayhorn Songbook: Concert Review

When: 4/12/08
Where: Bloomington Art Center
Who: Maud Hixson, Dennis Spears, Lucia Newell (voice) and the Rick Carlson Quartet: Rick Carlson (piano), Keith Boyles (bass), Mac Santiago (drums), Gary Schulte (violin)

It's my first time at the Bloomington Center, a slick new facility that shares a building (Bloomington Civic Plaza) with the city's police station. I imagine a Dick Wolf franchise: "Arts & Order."

"Beyond Category" promises to be an evening of wonderful tunes performed by some of the finest singers and musicians in the Twin Cities area. It turns out to be a very good program but not a great one.

Carlson gives the introduction and serves as narrator throughout. He's animated and knowledgeable, with interesting stories about both Ellington and Strayhorn. He tells us, for example, that “Beyond Category” was a term Ellington use to describe people he admired.



The program begins with an instrumental medley—bits of “Mood Indigo,” “Sophisticated Lady,” “Satin Doll, “Just Squeeze Me,” “Solitude,” and more. It’s basically the melody from each and pretty speedy. I might have preferred fuller treatments of fewer songs.

Schulte's violin immediately adds a whole new flavor to the music—a fourth voice. I like it, but it sometimes competes with the singers. It might have been more effective, and more special, had it been heard less often.

Hixson is the first singer up, with a silky-smooth “Don’t You Know I Care” followed by “Something to Live For.” Lovely, relaxed, and pure.



Spears bounds to the mike with “Whoo! Let’s see what we got here!” and delivers an uptempo “It Don’t Mean a Thing,” with scatting. He ends by leaping into the air, then tells us he won’t be doing that again this evening. It proves to be the most energetic part of the program.

Everyone is singing Strayhorn’s “Lush Life” these days: Christine Rosholt at the Dakota, Regina Marie Williams in Blues in the Night. Jazz historian and writer Ashley Kahn did a piece for NPR in which he noted that "more than 500 musicians have explored it.” I think I like it best when a man sings it—like Andy Bey on American Song, or Spears tonight. Dennis nails this difficult Strayhorn masterpiece with the complex message and odd structure (what’s the verse? Where’s the refrain?). When he sings the part that begins “Life is lonely,” I get music goose bumps—the frisson that starts in the lower back and moves up and into the shoulder blades, like wings.



It's Newell’s turn, and she gives us “Day Dream” and “Prelude to a Kiss.” (The first is on her excellent CD, Steeped in Strayhorn.) Lucia was born to swing, and her horn-like voice (that’s a good thing BTW) and impeccable phrasing illuminate this music. Every syllable is delicious, and Schulte ices the cake with an expressive violin solo.

For the final song in Part One of the program, Hixson, Spears, and Newell together sing “I’m Beginning to See the Light.” It’s the least successful number so far and overpowered by the quartet.

Part Two is billed as a vocal medley; the three singers alternate. Hixson sings “In a Mellow Tone,” followed by Spears on “In a Sentimental Mood.” Newell sings and scats “Your Love Has Faded” and follows up with “Caravan.”



Carlson’s narration continues to thread the songs together, and the mood is getting darker, more focused on Strayhorn, his illness and final years. The music slows. Spears sings “Come Sunday” (“Lord, dear Lord above!”), Newell “Passion Flower,” with a second lyric in Portuguese, and Hixson “Lotus Blossom,” about regret and days forever gone.

For the penultimate song, Spears sits beside Carlson at the piano for the emotional “Blood Count,” one of Strayhorn’s last melodies, written while he was dying, with lyrics added later by Mark Murphy (“Why? Why me?/No answers I see/Don’t cry, Sweet Pea”).

Carlson speculates on what tune might have been dragging through Strayhorn’s head when he died. “Musicians always have tunes dragging through their heads,” he says. “I wonder if Strayhorn maybe didn’t play himself off with something like this….” That's the cue for the final tune, “Take the ‘A’ Train,” begun on Schulte’s violin and sung by Hixson, Spears, and Newell. What could have been a joyous ending, a celebration of Strayhorn’s life and the music he left behind, is a downer.

As on “I’m Beginning to See the Light” at the end of the Part One, the three singers never quite fit together. They all seem to be holding back. I would have liked to see each one let loose in her or his own way. Hixson doesn’t scat, but Spears and Newell do, and they could have traded. I wanted a bigger finish.

There were glorious and beautiful moments; the program was entertaining and informative. For whatever reason, it never reached its full potential, not from where I was sitting.

All photos except Ellington and Strayhorn 1960 by John Whiting. Top to bottom: Schulte and Carlson; Hixson; Spears with Boyles and Santiago; Newell.