Charles
Carson,
PhD


University
of
Delaware

Clifford Brown’s Philadelphia

While it is often overlooked in favor of more powerful economic centers like New

York and Los Angeles, Philadelphia nevertheless retains a certain mystique for jazz

aficionados and musicians alike. Numerous articles and musicians repeatedly refer to

“Philly” as a somehow exceptional, almost in mythic terms. A list of musicians who, at

one time or another, called Philadelphia home reads like a “who’s who” of jazz: John

Coltrane, Red Rodney, Stan Getz, Bud Powell, the Heath Brothers, Philly Joe Jones,

Benny Golson, McCoy Tyner, Dizzy Gillespie, Jimmy Smith, and of course, Clifford

Brown…among countless others.

In this brief presentation, I would like to explore this unique environment, keeping

two ideas in mind: how Clifford Brown was shaped by the Philadelphia jazz scene, and

how, in the end, Brown and his legacy helped to (re)shape the same. But first, it believe it

might be useful to explore a bit of the history of Philadelphia, specifically as it relates to

the emergence and development of the city’s African-American community.

The city of Philadelphia played a central role in the development of African

American expressive forms—particularly musical forms—in the twentieth century.

Again, unlike other large urban centers like Los Angeles or New York, whose importance

largely was based on their position as centers of the production and commerce of these

forms, Philadelphia’s contribution was almost completely cultural. To be sure, every

large urban northern city has its own unique cultural heritage, but the special historical

circumstances surrounding the black experience in Philadelphia resulted in an African

American community who would be at the forefront of social and cultural change in

America.
Charles
Carson,
PhD

University
of
Delaware

The exceptional situation of the black community of Philadelphia has been

recognized at least since 1896, the year that W. E. B. Du Bois began his seminal study of

the city’s black community, The Philadelphia Negro. Du Bois’ study uncovers subtleties of

African American urban life that had, until then, gone largely ignored by mainstream

American society. Among these are the central role of familial connections in African

American culture, the importance of church and worship, the essential differences

between the African American situation and those of other minority and immigrant

groups, and even the class divisions within the black community itself.

The history of blacks in Philadelphia reaches back to around 1638, when Dutch

settlers brought them to the area, along with whites, as indentured servants.1 Despite

early protests by certain groups of German settlers, members of the Society of Friends, by

the close of the 17th century the institution of Black slavery in the colonies was firmly

established, and indeed booming. Over the first three decades of the following century,

the Friends became increasingly concerned about slavery on moral and ethical grounds.

Nevertheless, it was not until 1775 that the Friends made it an official policy to exclude

any one who kept slaves.

By the end of the 1700’s, the institution in Pennsylvania was in decline. In 1780, a

law passed that slowly began to emancipate all slaves. This released many former slaves

into the workforce—a trend that continued to increase for the next 150 years—and

contributed to the mounting tensions among workers of all races as competition for jobs

increased.

As the free black population continued to grow, it became evident that some type

of leadership would be needed. This leadership came in the form of the church. While

























































1 Ibid., 24.
Charles
Carson,
PhD

University
of
Delaware

the St. George’s Methodist church originally appealed to and welcomed Blacks, the

mostly white congregation began to object as the numbers of Blacks increased. In protest,

two men, Richard Allen and Absalom Jones left with the Black congregants and began

the Free African Society in an effort to guide and assist the growing free Black community

in Philadelphia. Eventually, Jones and Allen would part company, dividing their

congregation between denominations—Jones would begin an Episcopal church while

Allen would found a new denomination more closely rooted in the Black experience in

America, the African Methodist Episcopal church.

“Mother Bethel” as the church they eventually built on Sixth Street in

Philadelphia is affectionately called, is the oldest property continually owned by African

Americans in the country. The AME church’s role in the formation of the African

American community in Philadelphia cannot be overstated.2 Its “philosophy of

education with its strong emphasis upon self-help” epitomizes the spirit of African

Americans in Philadelphia to this day.3 (Think: Bill Cosby)

Over the course of the next century, the “negro problem” in Philadelphia

continued to grow as more Blacks became free. Coupled with this was Philadelphia’s role

as a gateway to the free north. As the first large urban area across the Mason-Dixon

Line, Philadelphia received a constant stream of escaped (and freed) slaves from the south

looking for work and freedom in the north. As with the freeing of local slaves, this stream

of Blacks from the south only contributed to the escalating tensions between white, black,

and immigrant laborers in Philadelphia.


























































2 Indeed, the church’s role as a symbolic marker of African American pride, accomplishment, faith
continues to this day as it has become a major tourist attraction for African American visitors to
Philadelphia. See, Elizabeth Grant, "Race and Tourism in America's First City," Journal of Urban History 31,
no. 6 (2005): 860.
3 African American Episcopal Church: Fifth District, "African American Episcopal Church - Historical

Perspective," www.ame-church.org/amehist.htm (accessed September 5, 2005).

Charles
Carson,
PhD

University
of
Delaware

Several factors contributed to the unique social context of Philadelphia in the

twentieth century. First, its role as a point of arrival and sale of African slaves made it

one of the fastest growing black populations among the early colonies. Second, its

Quaker-influenced leadership meant that it was also among the first colonies to begin to

recognize the rights of its black citizens, and the liberal policies it instituted instilled blacks

with a sense of freedom (albeit limited) not experienced in other large cities in the north

or south. However, this legal freedom did not shield the black community from the racist

or discriminatory practices—whether benign or dangerous—of members of the

Philadelphia community at large, especially from upwardly mobile immigrants. Thus

blacks in Philadelphia had to skirt a fine line between freedom and hostility to an extent

that other, perhaps less “free” black communities did not. The result was a black

community that was largely self sufficient to the point of being insular, fiercely protective

of its freedoms, and increasingly proud of its long heritage in the region.

Musically, Philadelphia has been front-and-center in terms of innovation. In

addition to a long tradition of classical music (dating back to the colonial period),

Philadelphia played a pivotal role in the development of gospel, rhythm and blues, soul,

rock, pop, hip-hop and—of course—jazz. Much of this is due to the city’s diverse

population, which has often used their unique musical traditions as a means of carving

out their own space in the dense urban environment.

In this environment, cultural practices like art, music, and dance became markers

of a community that was at the forefront of black expression. The black community in

Philadelphia was, to be sure, a northern, urban population. But, at the same time, many

of its members were never more than a generation or two away from the rural south.
Charles
Carson,
PhD

University
of
Delaware

This mixture—urbane sophistication with downhome sensibility—characterized the

Philadelphia that called to Clifford Brown in the 1940s.

Though Wilmington, DE was home to a thriving music scene—including a

number of local performers and venues—it really was an extension of a Philadelphia jazz

scene that reached perhaps as far northwest as Allentown, and definitely as far southeast

as Atlantic City. In fact, if you factor in the number of musicians who regularly travelled

from Philly to Rudy van Gelder’s studios in Hackensack, and later, Englewood Cliffs,

Philly’s reach overlapped with that of New York considerably.

As Nick Catalano points out, Brown began making regular trips to Philadelphia

while still in high school. These trips grew in frequency after he graduated and entered

Delaware State University, however, and it could very well be said that, although his

dorm was in Dover, his classroom was in Philadelphia.

That classroom, at least early on, was located at 17th and Chestnut. Here,

drummer Ellis Tollin ran a jam session/workshop for young musicians in Philadelphia

out of his music shop. Similar to what local DJ Tommy Roberts was doing at the

Heritage House on North Broad, Tollin would bring well-known musicians, in town to

headline at one of the bigger clubs, and for a small fee, underage musicians (who could

not get into the clubs) would hear them play a few tunes, talk about their craft, give

feedback, and even jam with their young admirers. Eventually, after Brown had

established himself as a major voice in the jazz world, he would return to this very

room—only as the guest artist (of course the question is—when?).

These workshops, while not necessarily unique to Philadelphia, really went a long

way towards establishing the city as a jazz center. Aspiring musicians like Brown—

musicians who had both the talent and the drive—found encouragement not only from
Charles
Carson,
PhD

University
of
Delaware

older, established performers, but also from like-minded youth. Such networks—long

before the days of the jazz performance major in college—were essential to the early and

continued development of future generations of musicians. Paul Berliner describes how

fluid networks of musicians are created, serving as forums for the working out of ideas,

transfer of knowledge, or just general support and camaraderie.4 These musicians are

often a mix of local celebrities, up-and-coming players, and young novices. Additionally,

more famous musicians may move in and out of these circles, as their touring schedule

moves them from place to place.

In an interview with Tim Merod, Benny Golson describes the role of these

networks when he was growing up in Philadelphia.

John [Coltrane] and I were constant companions in Philadelphia. There

was a time when we were together every day when we were learning to
play. We went to this concert and heard Charlie Parker and Dizzy
Gillespie. What did we do after the concert was over? We walked up the
street with Mr. Parker, and John was saying to him, “Can I carry your
horn for you, Mr. Parker?” And I was saying, “What kind of mouthpiece
do you use?” Playing like that, I had to find out his secret.5

And later:

John was eighteen, I was sixteen, and we were neophytes—in the real
sense of the word. I mean, we were just getting started. We used to have
so-called rehearsals at my house, and I’d go out and buy a seventy-five-
cent, fifteen-piece arrangement written by Spud Murphy that sold all over
the world, I guess. It’s called a stock arrangement…and we’d have a
rehearsal. We’d have one tenor saxophone, one trumpet, and one alto
saxophone!6

Musicians like Coltrane, Golson, and later, Brown used these networks as forums

for dealing with “problems” and “challenges” of the music, as well. At the time in which


























































4 Paul F. Berliner, Thinking in Jazz: The Infinite Art of Improvisation (London: University of Chicago Press,
1993), 37-41.
5 Jim Merod and Benny Golson, "Forward Motion: An Interview with Benny Golson," Boundary 22, no. 2

(1995): 56.
6 Ibid., 57.
Charles
Carson,
PhD

University
of
Delaware

they were coming of age as jazz musicians, jazz was changing. These networks helped

burgeoning musicians make sense of, and assimilate, the modernism of bebop. “I

watched the music change,” commented Golson, “And I watched us change. We had to

recast our thinking.”

But obviously, more formal settings also existed. While these workshops provided

underage youths access to successful musicians, most of the public encountered the artists

in their natural environment—the jazz club. And Philly had plenty. In addition to larger

venues—like the Pearl; the Lincoln and Dunbar; of course the Earle, and later, places like

the Uptown—Philadelphia had a large concentrations of nightclubs, halls, and smaller

establishments, many of which featured jazz prominently. Chief among these were The

Showboat on Lombard Street; Pep’s Musical Bar at 516 S. Broad; The Blue Note (a

Clifford Brown favorite) at 15th and Ridge in North Philadelphia; The Downbeat at 21 S.

11th St.; Club Harlem over in West Philly; the 421 Club on Wyalusing; Spider Kelly’s on

Mole—not to mention similar venues in Wilmington and Atlantic City.

It was at a Wilmington venue that Brown would be inspired to take his career to

the next level. Catalano recounts a tale as old as time: a famous band rolls into town for a

one-night engagement, and—much to everyone’s surprise, a featured musician is missing.

At the last moment, a unknown local boy is thrust up on stage, where he proceeds to wow

both the audience and the band. In this case, the band was Dizzy Gillespie’s, the missing

musician was Benny Harris, and the unknown local boy was non other than Brown

himself. As a result this successful effort sitting in with one of his idols, Brown decides to

immerse himself in the Philadelphia jazz scene beyond just jam sessions. The next few
Charles
Carson,
PhD

University
of
Delaware

years would see Brown opening for Max Roach, sitting in with Bird (again), eventually

taking a full-time job in a touring rhythm ‘n’ blues group, The Blue Flames.

Fronted by drummer Chris Powell, The Blue Flames exposed many people to

Brown’s talent—the group seemed to be everywhere at once, hitting all the major rooms

in the Philadelphia area, as well as venues in New York, the Midwest, and the South.

Throughout this all, however, Brown made Philadelphia his center of operations,

returning as frequently possible to reconnect with his family in nearby Wilmington.

By late 1954, Brown had left the Blue Flames, and had started his legendary

collaboration with Max Roach. Later that year—after extended engagements in

California and Europe, the group returned to Philadelphia, where Brown settled on

Sansom St. in West Philly. That October, the group began what would be the first of

several bookings at The Blue Note. Wherever their touring took them, they always

returned to Philly to recharge their batteries, both emotionally and musically.

Part of this undoubtedly had to do with the quality of Philadelphia audiences.

Over and over again, numerous sources describe the patrons of Philly’s jazz establishment

as “knowledgeable.” By some estimations, that description is far too kind. For, while

audiences could occasionally be laudatory—even encouraging—to younger and

developing talent, they where not given to tolerate lesser musicians. Part of this stemmed

from the strong sense of tradition within the city’s African-American community—they

were proud of their musical heritage and eager to protect it. Through the years, countless

musicians had honed their skills to razor sharp accuracy here before taking it up I-95—

Gillespie, Coltrane, Morgan. As such, Philly became a proving ground for musicians. If

you made a splash in Philadelphia, then you really had some talent. Growing up in
Charles
Carson,
PhD

University
of
Delaware

Wilmington, Brown knew this fact quite well. That made the encouragement and

accolades he received from musicians and fans in Philadelphia all the more important to

him, both early in his career, and even later, after he had achieved worldwide success

with Brown/Roach group.

Returning to the questions that opened this presentation, we can again ask how

Philadelphia helped to shape Brown’s musical development. First, his proximity to the

Philadelphia jazz scene from an early age exposed him—as we have seen—to like-minded

young musicians, musicians who shared his musical and intellectual curiosity, if not his

level of talent. Being a member of such a group has its rewards: it can provide guidance

and encouragement and times of confusion or doubt, as it undoubtedly did for Brown.

More importantly, however, the unique nature of the Philadelphia jazz scene—

with its numerous venues, both large and small—enabled young and gifted musicians to

gain access to the upper echelon of the jazz world. Musicians who came through Philly,

especially those who took part in the workshops organized locally, could—and in most

cases, did—influence Brown directly, allowing him to sit in, recommending him for jobs,

or hiring him outright. Many of the pivotal moments in Brown’s development occurred

as he watched the greats at work in person—Brown regularly cited early performances by

Dizzy Gillespie and (especially) Fats Navarro as helping to directly impact his own

approach to the trumpet.

Fats Navarro, whom Brown first encountered in Philadelphia in the late-1940s,

deeply affected Brown’s playing. Numerous critics and scholars hear Navarro’ influence

in Brown’s articulation, phrasing, and sound—particularly in his reliance upon the

Charles
Carson,
PhD

University
of
Delaware

middle and lower registers of the horn. Other influences include the Heath Brothers and

Benny Golson, who played with Brown in Tadd Dameron’s band.

Finally, the discerning audiences in Philadelphia provided Brown with a certain

level of confidence in his abilities—if he could win them over, then he must really be on

the right track. Yet despite this, Brown remains, by all accounts, humble and appreciative

throughout his life.

But Brown gives back far more than he takes from Philadelphia. In addition from

memorable performances, the care he takes with those musicians younger than he

illustrates how kind and wonderful he was. Such was the case with another Philadelphia-

area phenom, Lee Morgan. In a conversation with Jeff McMillan, LaRue Brown-Watson

highlights the special bond the two shared: “They were hanging out, you know, but it

always ended up being a lesson.” She continues: “They were friends. Even with the age

difference, they were friends.” Morgan, who in a sense would be come jazz’s heir apparent

after Brown’s death, owed a lot to Brown, and his playing shows this influence, especially

early on.

In the end, Brown’s legacy in Philadelphia extends beyond the amazing

recordings he made during his career. It extends beyond his compositions. It even

extends beyond the long line of trumpet players who were inspired by his playing. It

includes the memories cherished by those who new him—even by those he only met in

passing. And though I never met him, I consider myself lucky to live in city—in a world—

that was, far too briefly, touched by his presence.