For Whom The Brass Bell Tolls

A Personal Appreciation of the Firehouse Five Plus Two on Their fiftieth Anniversary

Published in the Frisco Cricket, Issue No. 8, Spring 1999

by Hal Smith

On May 13, 1949, a group of traditional jazz musicians gathered at Radio Recorders’ Studio B in Hollywood. Though this Good Time Jazz session was made at the height of the West Coast Traditional Jazz Revival, the first number recorded was not played in direct imitation of Lu Watters, Turk Murphy, Kid Ory, Bunk Johnson or George Lewis. The selection was not a long-neglected composition by King Oliver or Jelly Roll Morton; rather, it started with a brass firebell and fire siren, ushering in a banjo solo based on Under The Double Eagle. The reaction to the first four sides by the band was instantaneous and, thankfully, mostly favorable. One prominent critic called it, “The happiest band I have heard in a long time.” ⁽¹⁾ Though the band also suffered detractors (who continue to criticize it even to this day), those early recordings helped to launch the band’s career, making it one of the most famous and successful traditional jazz groups of all time. The band’s story is well-documented—in the liner notes of their recordings, in the pages of Record Changer in the ‘40s and ‘50s and in the Southern California jazz club publications of the ‘60s. Still a capsule description of the band’s accomplishments is called for....

In the mid-1940s, a group of Walt Disney animators, artists, writers and musicians who loved jazz would gather around a phonograph and play along with records during lunch breaks. One day, when the phonograph broke down and the musicians kept playing, they decided that the results were good enough to take to the public. With leader Ward Kimball, trombone; Clarke Mallery, clarinet; Frank Thomas, piano; Ed Penner, bass sax and Jim McDonald on drums, the group billed itself as the “Hugageedy 8” and later as the “San Gabriel Valley Blue Blowers.” Eventually they picked up a trumpet man—Johnny Lucas—and a fine banjoist: Harper Goff. The final evolution came about when the Kimballs discussed the idea of taking the band along on a Horseless Carriage Club caravan from Los Angeles to San Diego. The only vehicle Ward Kimball could locate which was large enough to hold the band and old enough to qualify for the caravan was a 1914 American LaFrance fire truck. Keeping with the “fire” motif, Kimball acquired genuine fire helmets and red fireshirts to outfit the band. The newly-outfitted band was rechristened as the “Firehouse Five Plus Two. “

To no one’s surprise, the FH5+2 was the hit of the Horseless Carriage caravan. ⁽²⁾ Soon they were playing jobs, including a benefit for Kid Ory’s guitarist, Bud Scott. Ory’s clarinetist Joe Darensbourg recommended the FH5 to the owner of the Beverly Caverns nightclub and the Firehouse crew began a series of successful appearances at “The Cavern.” ⁽³⁾ They also attracted the attention of screenwriter and jazz fan Lester Koenig, who had helped start up the Jazzman label in the early ‘40s. Koenig launched his own Good Time Jazz label with those first four sides by the Firehouse Five. The rest, as they say, is history.

Soon after the first recording session, bass saxophonist Ed Penner switched over to the more resonant tuba. Scheduling conflicts caused Lucas and McDonald to bow out of the band. Their replacements were cornetist Danny Alguire and drummer Monte Mountjoy, both of whom had worked with Bob Wills’ Texas Playboys. This lineup soon became the toast of Hollywood, playing the Mocambo nightclub, where Ginger Rogers, Lucille Ball, Judy Garland and other stars danced at the Monday night “Charleston contests.” ⁽⁴⁾ The band appeared several times on Bing Crosby’s Chesterfield radio program, on television with Ed Wynn, Milton Berle and a Walt Disney Christmas special. ⁽⁵⁾ In addition, the FH5 was seen in the movies Grounds For Marriage and Hit Parade Of 1951 and was the first jazz band to play the Rose Parade in Pasadena. ⁽⁶⁾

The FH5 held tremendous appeal to the general public, but they were also a hit with jazz fans, playing to huge crowds at the Frank Bull-Gene Norman “Dixieland Jubilees” at the Shrine Auditorium in Los Angeles. ⁽⁷⁾ In the early ‘50s they made several journeys north to play at Hambone Kelly’s, Club Hangover and at the old Opera House in Virginia City, Nevada.

Contacts made in the Bay City produced enduring friendships and a mutual admiration society. This resulted in several San Franciscans donning firemen’s gear during the ensuing years. Musicians such as Wally Rose and Bob Short guested with the band on occasion; Don Kinch, George Bruns, K.O. Eckland and Billy Newman had longer stays. And the band gained an admirer for life in Turk Murphy, who imported the FH5 to the Italian Village and, later, Earthquake McGoon’s. ⁽⁸⁾ In addition, the Firehouse musicians became friendly with many of the pioneer New Orleans jazzmen, such as Albert Nicholas who, Ward Kimball explained, “gave us an awful lot of the do’s and don’ts.” ⁽⁹⁾ At various times, Zutty Singleton, Joe Darensbourg, Minor Hall and Nappy Lamare were featured guests with the band. ⁽¹⁰⁾ (The “New Orleans” association worked both ways, when Ward Kimball was called on to substitute for an ailing Kid Ory). ⁽¹¹⁾

The lessons learned from the New Orleans and San Francisco musicians helped to keep the jazz content high in the Firehouse Five’s output. Their performances—live and recorded—were a high-energy combination of well-played traditional jazz, sound effects and novelty vocals saturated with an infectious good humor and spirit. In later years, Ward Kimball described the major influences which shaped the Firehouse style: “Jelly Roll Morton for his imagination and humor; Lu Watters for his simplicity and beat and Guy Lombardo for his brother!” ⁽¹²⁾ Perhaps the best description of the Firehouse Five’s music can be found in the name of the label they recorded for: Good Time Jazz. The band continued to play great jazz and to maintain their own sound, even with several personnel changes in the ‘50s and ‘60s. And except for a brief hiatus from the Spring of 1952 to the fall of 1953, the Firehouse Five Plus Two probably became the most popular and high-profile jazz band of the West Coast Traditional Jazz Revival.

Fast-forward to 1962: A transplanted nine-year-old Hoosier, newly arrived in California (who somehow managed to miss all those radio, television and film appearances and all the recordings mentioned above) was about to have his life changed through a magical musical experience. What could be a better place for such magic to occur than Disneyland? The setting was a hot July night at the long-gone “Oaks Tavern” in “Frontierland.” A few minutes before the scheduled starting time, seven musicians mounted the small Oaks Tavern gazebo in the darkness. Suddenly the lights came on, revealing the bright red fireshirts, white suspenders and gleaming white firehats. The trombonist looked left and right to make sure that the band was ready to go and quickly gave a loud countoff: “HEY!

ONE-AND-TWO-AND-THREE-AND-FOUR!” And the Firehouse Five Plus Two lit into At The Jazz Band Ball.

As those sounds went clear through me, I literally shivered with delight and I don’t think I have ever recovered! At the intermission, encouraged by my parents, I got up enough nerve to actually talk to the musicians. Friendly, polite Danny Alguire was my first contact. Without missing a lick on his ice cream cone, he introduced me to Ward Kimball, Don Kinch (helicon), Dick Roberts (banjo), K.O. Eckland (piano), Eddie Forrest (drums) and soprano saxophonist George Probert. The band generously gave up their intermission to talk to me and sign autographs, and they encouraged me to keep my interest in the music. When George Probert handed me a copy of the latest Jazzologist magazine, saying “Here, man. I want you to read this” it was shades of Doc Souchon getting the nod from King Oliver. I had arrived. On the next set, Ward Kimball dedicated a number to me. “Magic” is indeed the only adjective I can think of that adequately describes this first encounter with live jazz.

After I discovered there were Firehouse Five recordings, the fate of my weekly allowance was a foregone conclusion, as were subsequent requests for birthday and Christmas presents. I stuck to the music of the FH5 like glue, even as American culture embraced the Beatles, peace, love, dope and everything else that went with rock ‘n’ roll. I endured the “Old Weird Harold” label at school, listening to Birmingham Papa (Your Memphis Mama’s Comin’ To Town) instead of She Loves You (Yeah, Yeah Yeah).

As enjoyable as the records were, though, nothing could beat hearing the Firehouse Five in person at Disneyland. Thankfully, my parents indulged my newfound obsession, driving the long haul from La Jolla to Anaheim without complaint. They grew to enjoy the FH5 performances almost as much as I did. We reveled in their music first at Oaks Tavern, then the Golden Horseshoe Saloon and finally at New Orleans Square. Ward Kimball gladly played my requests, eventually calling them as soon as he spotted me in the crowd. When I found that he was a rail fan, we had another subject to discuss besides jazz and even maintained a correspondence for awhile. The other FH5 band members continued to give freely of their precious intermission time to encourage a young musician and I can never adequately repay their kindness. I laughed, along with jazz fans and those who just enjoyed the Firehouse “experience,” at Ward’s droll humor on the microphone. I always got a charge out of the brass firebell introductions, the fire siren on the outchoruses, the boombass, washboard, tambourine, castanets, bird whistle, duck call, and train whistle. I loved Eddie Forrest’s virtuosity with salad spoons on Bye Bye Blues, the furious double-time outburst during a quiet passage of Sister Kate, the dog howls and “train wreck” on Yellow Dog Blues and Ward’s “How do you like the opera so far?” on Anvil Stomp.

The sound effects, colorful uniforms and well-done humor were enjoyable and no doubt helped the band put its music across to the public. But at Disneyland these elements were not overused and the Firehouse Five onstage was anything but hyper. The only movements that drew attention were George Probert’s hypnotic head bobbing as he played and Danny’s “Benny Strickler” position; leaning back, pointing the cornet slightly upwards to project better on solos and outchoruses. And the repertoire was remarkable. In the early days of the band, Ward Kimball was given several arrangements of “San Francisco” originals, which remained unplayed. When George Probert asked why the numbers were never added to the Firehouse repertoire, Ward replied, “The people wanna hear songs they recognize.” ⁽¹³⁾ Certainly, the band played Tiger Rag, Muskrat Ramble, St. Louis Blues, Bill Bailey, Sweet Georgia Brown and the inescapable “Saints” with all the stops pulled out at nearly every performance. However, the Firehouse Five “book” also included many of the best traditional jazz compositions from the early years of jazz. The first versions I ever heard of Milneburg Joys, Panama, San, Doctor Jazz, Memphis Blues, Blues My Naughty Sweetie Gave To Me, Come Back, Sweet Papa, Storyville Blues, Working Man Blues, Copenhagen, Mississippi Rag, Tishomingo Blues, Riverside Blues and South were by the Firehouse Five at Disneyland. The band also played terrific vintage pop songs like I Can’t Believe That You’re In Love With Me, You’ve Got To See Mama Ev’ry Night, Just Because and San Antonio Rose with Danny Alguire’s easygoing Southwestern vocals.

It was enlightening to hear occasional changes in the personnel. For awhile, Frank Thomas and K. O. Eckland alternated on piano. Frank eventually left the band and K. O. was his permanent replacement. When Dick Roberts retired due to health reasons, Billy Newman took over the banjo chair. We heard Don Kinch sub for Alguire; George Bruns for Kimball; John Smith for Probert. But none of these changes—even the sharp contrast between Danny’s and Don’s cornet work—altered the band’s basic sound. However, there was one edition of the Firehouse Five which sounded very different from all the others....As I recall, we went to Disneyland one weekend in September, 1964 to catch the FH5+2 on their regular Saturday night job. The band may still have been at the Oaks Tavern, but I am not positive. What I do remember is my initial shock at seeing Don Kinch’s helicon wrapped around George Bruns and Don standing next to Danny, both holding cornets. Ward stepped to the mic and rasped, “We’re gonna play some Lu Watters style tonight.” (Lu Watters? Ah, yes! That intriguing name on the Good Time Jazz LP sleeves. Well, now I’ll find out how....) Four stomps and the augmented FH5 sailed into I Ain’t Gonna Give Nobody None O’ This Jelly Roll and this writer was literally rocked back in his seat. Even at a remove of thirty-five years, I can still hear that first two-cornet number as clearly as if it was just played five minutes ago. The band was rocking, literally, from the first beat. (By the way, that’s “rock” as in “Annie Street”). Working hand-in-glove, Danny and Don traded off on the flawless lead and second parts. Their musical colleagues responded with even more of a stomp feel than usual and the resulting “two-cornet” jazz was one of the greatest musical evenings I have ever had the pleasure of hearing.

I continued to follow the band even after the inevitable exposure to records by Lu Watters and Bob Scobey and live performances by Turk Murphy, the Bay City Jazz Band and the up-and-coming South Frisco Jazz Band. The “new” sounds and repertoire commanded my attention in the late ‘60s, though it was a delight to “go back to the roots” and to hear the FH5 one final time at Disneyland in 1969. They were as good as ever and even played a couple San Francisco numbers I had not heard them do previously: Auntie Skinners’ Chicken Dinner and Beale Street Mama. By the early ‘70s, I had fallen in with a crowd of young musicians known loosely as the “Fink Street Five (Plus Two).” The original influence on this group should be readily apparent from the band’s name. Though the individual musicians were also fascinated with the music of Oliver, Morton, Armstrong, Dodds, Ory, Beiderbecke, Venuti-Lang, Watters and Murphy, the Firehouse inspiration remained strong. (Despite the relatively broad musical tastes within this group, they were capable of pulling off Firehouse-like versions of Anvil Stomp and You’ve Got To See Mama Ev’ry Night without even a brief consultation beforehand). Finally, in 1971, one of our group got the word that the FH5 was going to play its last job—a car show. On Nov. 17, we gathered by the stage in the middle of the old Anaheim Convention Center to enjoy the Firehouse Five one last time. Danny Alguire had been sidelined by a stroke, but fortunately Don Kinch was flown in from Portland, joining Ward Kimball, George Probert, K.O. Eckland, Billy Newman, George Bruns and Eddie Forrest for the last time. I doubt that there was a dry eye anywhere surrounding the stage when the FH5+2 roared into Tiger Rag for the grand finale. For me, an era had ended and the jazz scene would never be quite the same, or nearly as much fun.

Now it’s fifty years since the band’s recorded debut, thirty-seven years after I heard them for the first time and twenty-eight years after hearing them for the last time. To Ward Kimball, Danny Alguire, Don Kinch, George Probert, Frank Thomas, K.O. Eckland, Dick Roberts, Billy Newman, George Bruns and Eddie Forrest I say: Without your dynamic performances and your kindness to a young listener, I would never have gained an appreciation for traditional jazz. Thank you for the great music, the good times and the friendship. You made a fan for life.

FOOTNOTES

1. George Avakian, The Record Changer, September, 1949.
2. Lester Koenig, notes to Firehouse Five Plus Two Story, Good Time Jazz CD-22055; Robert S. Greene, “The Firehouse Five Plus Two,” Record Changer, September, 1949.
3. Joe Darensbourg, Jazz Odyssey; The Autobiography Of Joe Darensbourg As Told To Peter Vacher, Baton Rouge, Louisiana State University Press, 1987, p. 118.
4. Koenig, op. cit.
5. Ibid.
6. Ibid.
7. Jack Lewerke, “Dixieland Jubilee 1949,” Record Changer, December, 1949.
8. Private tapes, author’s collection.
9. Greene, op. cit.
10. Greene, op. cit.; Koenig, op. cit.
11. Darensbourg, op. cit., p. 119.
12. Ward Kimball, “Llabmik Draw Interviews Ward Kimball,” Southern California Hot Jazz Society Fanfare, January-February, 1969.
13. George Probert, conversation with the author, 1994.