When Louis Armstrong came to Hamilton
Wednesday, 15 March 2023
Dr Richard Swainson runs Hamilton's last DVD rental store and is a weekly contributor to the Waikato Times history page.
OPINION: 'I would like to make a contribution to New Zealand society', announced a friend at a party. The phrase sounded archaic and certainly at odds with the social setting. It was something someone of my father's generation might say. A declaration of intent, sans irony.
It's been my happy lot in the time since to associate with many who not only aspire to public service but deliver on the promise. The gentleman thus quoted is an archaeologist, a noble and important calling. Others serve on committees, fundraise, lobby and generally get things done. Whether it be club, church, marae or service organisation, a contribution is made.
Only once have I given it a go myself. The tenth anniversary of the event rapidly approaches. It wasn't anything earth-shattering. I just wanted to share my enthusiasm for a piece of Hamilton history with those who witnessed it first hand and leave behind a permanent marker. If my friend Mark Servian could conceive and deliver a statue, could I, with the assistance, deep pockets and political savvy of others, settle for a humble little plaque? Richard O'Brien warrants bold recognition, the ongoing international appeal of his Rocky Horror (Picture) Show creation a source of potential tourist dollars but what of the visit of Louis Armstrong to the Founders Theatre?
**READ MORE:
* Potential Founders redevelopment private funders identified
* Founders Theatre is a grand old lady with life in her yet - Swainson
* Opinion: Famous come to Hamilton
**
No doubt the majority see the handful of hours spent in Hamilton by the celebrated singer and trumpet player on 20 March, 1963, as fleeting and negligible. After all, what distinguishes the two Armstrong concerts from the myriad of international acts that played the theatre or other Hamilton venues before or since? I have it on good authority that when Brian Wilson sang In My Room at the Founders, after making the dubious claim that he was doing so 'for the first time', there wasn't a dry eye in the house. The Kinks ruffled feathers with a discordant opening on the same stage. Thelonious Monk spat on the Founders floor. Lou Reed was petulant and surly. Ralph Richardson trod the boards at The Embassy Theatre, where both Eartha Kitt and Danny Kaye had hissy fits. Bob Dylan growled mysteriously in Claudelands, Ian McKellen charmed in a one-man fundraiser at Clarence Street and Maria von Trapp once took tea where today's Hush Hush strippers ply their trade.
Why should Satchmo be singled out? Well, aside from the fact that he was the very first performer from beyond New Zealand shores to grace our then new theatre, Armstrong was a genius. He was a genius because he changed the direction of 20th century music, arguably exerting an influence that exceeds even that of Dylan and Wilson, men whose own genius has long been taken for granted. Almost aside from innovations on the trumpet, there was singing before Armstrong and singing after Armstrong. You could trace how his direct influence on Bing Crosby then informed the singing of Frank Sinatra but Armstrong's impact went beyond the mainstream of the American songbook or even jazz, the idiom for which he was iconic. Like all true geniuses he effected a paradigm shift.
Back in 2013 it was a challenge to convince some gatekeepers that Armstrong had visited Hamilton at all. The then manager of Founders Theatre hinted at scepticism. When his wife openly questioned whether the concerts had taken place, a friend of mine took it upon himself to ring someone whom he knew had attended to set her straight then and there over the telephone. That gentleman became one of many I interviewed for a feature article that was to serve a dual purpose: an investigation into the 1963 gigs and a promotion of a plaque unveiling, in the Founders' foyer, 50 years to the day afterwards, complete with live jazz played by local band Art Gecko.
No ratepayer money was to be used. The Theatre of the Impossible Charitable Trust (TOTI) covered physical and installation expenses. TOTI also gave invaluable advice on how to negotiate bureaucratic intransigence and the indifference of some city councillors. Trustees Bill McArthur and Margaret Evans were towers of strength, the latter securing the participation of the United States Consul General James E. Donegan, to do the unveiling itself. Future deputy mayors Angela O'Leary and Martin Gallagher could not have been more supportive. Mayor Julie Hardaker hosted with sympathetic oratory.
The turn-out was perhaps not vast but a large percentage of the crowd we did attract were drawn from Armstrong's original audience. To get even a handful of people in the same physical space they had occupied a half century earlier was an achievement in itself and the enthusiasm felt from the faithful, many of whom had conversed with the jazz superstar in his changing room and/or secured his autograph on programmes or record sleeves, was palpable. This was especially meaningful in the case of Stuart Bayes, Art Gecko's trumpet player, providing as it did a direct musical connection back to 1963.
Ten years on and neither Armstrong nor the Founders itself are what they were. The monstrosity that is identity politics has not always been kind to a performer whose natural exuberance and love of life were too often mistaken for the minstrel stereotype. Armstrong had to negotiate prejudice and the obscenity of segregation his entire life, often criticised by those who owed their careers to his innovations and sacrifices. In death debates on his legacy revisit the same arguments, the consequence being that his work seldom if ever gets it due. Happily, for the people of Hamilton, the man's race was irrelevant. They responded to the musician, to the artist who transcended injustice and communicated on a deeply spiritual level.
The future for the venue which hosted this genius today hangs in the balance. A report into the potential repurposing of the Founders Theatre for community usage has at time of writing yet to be released to the public. A plaque designed to celebrate a truly astonishing historical event, sits in the dark, unseen and unread since 2016.