Fellow musicians called him “Pep” or “Pepperhead.” He was also known as “Mr. Rhythm,” and he could drive a band like no other guitarist. His was a subtle yet unmistakable motivating and metronomic force. Others emulated his style and function, but Freddie Green was the archetype – the most famous rhythm guitarist in jazz.
In 1937, producer John Hammond, the man who brought Charlie Christian to Benny Goodman (and signed both Dylan and Springsteen to Columbia Records) introduced Freddie Green to Count Basie. Except for one brief two-month spell, they were bandmates for the next 50 years. And for at least 15 of those years, Green was one-fourth of perhaps the most famous rhythm section in jazz history – Green, Basie, bassist Walter Page and drummer Jo Jones were known collectively as The All-American Rhythm Section.
Early Years
Frederick William “Freddie” Green was born in Charleston, South Carolina on March 31, 1911. Many of the details of his early life are enigmatic because Green was a very private man and considered interviews intrusive and unnecessary. But we know his father played a pump organ that resided in the boy’s aunt’s house and his mom sang in the church choir and encouraged the youngster to sing with her at home. His childhood had its hardships, typical for almost any kid at the time, but he was surrounded by music and had family who loved him. He said he was always attracted to music but couldn’t remember how he got a ukulele as a child, but that was his first axe.
Around the age of 12, Freddie gained his first real musical mentor in family friend Sam Walker, who got him a place in the Jenkins Orphanage Band. The group played on street corners, store openings, and wherever else they could to raise money for the school’s underprivileged kids. Coincidentally, while in the Jenkins Orphanage Band Freddie met a young “Cat” Anderson, who went on to musical stardom as a featured trumpet player with Duke Ellington’s band.
Soon after his father died, just before Freddie entered his teens, the youngster was moved to New York City to live with his mom’s sister. There, he made pocket money shoveling snow, played sandlot baseball, and hung out with neighborhood kids. Though he attended PS-51 and later PS-58, he left school at age 16.
Young Freddie was becoming enamored of the musicians and shows he saw in Harlem. In a 1977 interview conducted by jazz critic Stanley Dance and his wife, Helen, Green recalled, “I really liked the theater. I would spend most of my time in the theaters. I lived at the Lafayette and the Lincoln; I saw Jimmie Lunceford’s band at the Lafayette. We (speaking of childhood friend Lonnie Simmons) walked in there and looked up at that bandstand and saw how everybody was so neatly dressed. Everything was clockwork. It was a beautiful thing to see. That’s the way it was back in those days.” Freddie was further captivated when he heard Jelly Roll Morton at the Rhythm Club, where he’d sometimes see Bill “Bojangles” Robinson hanging out.
When Green was 18 or 19 years old, his mother passed away in Charleston. On his return, he was greeted by his childhood sweetheart, Leotha Elmo, someone he said he’d thought about often while in New York City. They were married shortly after his mother’s funeral and Freddie remained in Charleston for about a year. During that time he and Leotha produced a son.
Although Green was shining shoes and selling papers to support his new family, he maintained an avid interest in music. He became good friends with a music teacher, Professor Blake, a graduate of Howard University. At Blake’s house, Green would explore the music library and learn scales and harmony at the teacher’s blackboard. Before long, Freddie rekindled his friendship with a popular Charleston group, the Nighthawks. He had loved seeing them as a kid learning the ukulele, and he knew the group’s trumpet player, who had been a teacher at the Jenkins Orphanage. Freddie also noticed that most bands of the day were using a banjo, which inspired him to find one at a pawn shop and teach himself to play. He recalled, “I finally talked the guy with the Nighthawks into letting me sit in. I used to rehearse with them.”
Late that year, Freddie was asked to again join the Jenkins Orphanage Band, which was scheduled to tour Maine, playing Grange halls and parades, again with the mission of raising money for the school. Although Leotha was very much against the idea, Freddie wanted the experience and took the gig even though he said he didn’t remember getting paid. But on the way back, the group stopped in New York City, and Green stayed there. He was still fascinated by the possibility of having a music career in the big city. He quickly got a day job upholstering chairs and a gig playing banjo at the Yeah Man Club. As soon as he had enough money, he sent for his new family.
By now, Freddie had learned his way around the banjo, which in the early ’30s was a precursor instrument for many jazz guitarists. Guitars had yet to be adequately amplified, and a banjo had enough bark to compete with other instruments. Many say jazz pioneer Eddie Durham, who preceded Freddie in the Basie band, was rumored to have created the first electric guitar in the ’30s. That’s arguable, but regardless of anyone’s claims, the amplified guitar’s practicality had not yet been fully realized.
Freddie’s group at the Yeah Man Club was a trio, with his childhood friend, Lonnie Simmons, playing saxophone, and Eric Henry at the piano. But times and trends were changing, and before long, the club’s owner asked Freddie to get a guitar. Freddie laughingly recalled in his interview with Stanley and Helen Dance, “As soon as I picked up the banjo, the guitar came in. The changeover from banjo was so abrupt…” But Green purchased his first guitar, on time, from King’s Music Store, on 47th Street. There seems to be no record of which brand or model, but Michael Pettersen, an authority on Green, speculates it was probably an Epiphone Emperor.
At the Yeah Man Club, Freddie became even further seduced by show business because the gig exposed him to many celebrities. There, he met stars including Lonnie Johnson and the Dorsey brothers, Tommy and Jimmy. After the gig folded, Freddie found work at the Exclusive Club, another haunt of jazz luminaries. There, he was playing guitar for stride pianist Willie Gant, a contemporary of Fats Waller and Willie, “The Lion” Smith. The Exclusive Club gig was important because it was where Freddie began to find his voice on the instrument and learned how to stay out of the way of the piano parts. Later, Lonnie Simmons and Freddie moved to the The Black Cat, a mob-owned joint in Greenwich Village, to work with drummer Kenny Clarke, his bassist cousin, Frank, and pianist Fat Atkins. The gig’s hours were from midnight until 4 a.m., but Green loved it, saying, “We had a thing going down at the Black Cat. We had a tremendous rhythm section.”
Freddie’s introduction to Basie is documented in bassist Bill Crow’s Jazz Anecdotes (Oxford University Press). When Basie’s band was at New York City’s Roseland Ballroom and Goodman was at the Hotel Pennsylvania, Hammond thought it was time for introductions. He recalled, “About a week after the Roseland opening, I arranged to take Basie, Lester Young, Walter Page, Jo Jones and Buck Clayton to the Black Cat in Greenwich Village. And because Benny also closed at 1 o’clock, I persuaded him to join us. I wanted Bill’s rhythm section to hear Freddie, and, always thinking, I wanted Benny to hear Lester. It was quite a night. Benny brought his clarinet, so he sat in, Basie took over on piano, and Jo on drums, but Frank Clarke remained on bass, and of course Freddie continued to play guitar.”
In his autobiography, John Hammond on Record (1977, Ridge Press/Summit Books), Hammond recalls, “I thought (Green) was the greatest I had ever heard. He had unusually long fingers, a steady stroke, and unobtrusively held the whole rhythm section together.” The historic result of that night was Basie’s decision to let guitarist Claude Williams go and replace him with Green. And yet another interesting occurrence took place that evening; Benny Goodman, a man famous for his less-than-philanthropic nature, was so impressed with Lester Young’s tone and talent that he gave him his clarinet.
During the next several years with the Basie band, Freddie perfected his unique art and quietly achieved his deserved notoriety as one of jazz’s most respected players. Band members would come and go, but Green enjoyed a security and even a synergy as an integral part of one of the era’s greatest bands. He appeared on all of Basie’s important recordings from 1937 on. His presence was particularly noteworthy on the album Good Morning Blues, especially on the tracks “Dark Rapture” and “Boogie Woogie.” And jazz critics have documented his importance on Basie’s small group recordings. The tracks “Ham ‘n’ Eggs,” “Tickle Toe,” and the classic “Lester Leaps In,” from The Lester Young Story series are all typical of his subtle profundity.
Perhaps his most famous contribution was for Neal Hefti’s, “L’il’ Darlin’” from the classic The Atomic Mr. Basie, now repackaged as The Complete Atomic Basie album. Interestingly, “L’il’ Darlin’” never charted, but quickly moved into the jazz lexicon and has remained ever since. Of course, Freddie maintained the tune’s critical lazy tempo with authoritative perfection.
But the hundreds of recordings he made with Basie didn’t constitute Green’s studio discography – not by a long shot. He was much in-demand as a session player with many notable jazz artists including Lester Young, Lionel Hampton, Benny Carter, Billie Holiday, Teddy Wilson, and even Benny Goodman. And in 1955, Freddie showcased his excellent composing chops with his first album as a leader, Mr. Rhythm. The collection, including “Down For Double,” “Up In the Blues,” “Little Red,” “A Date With Ray” and “Feed Bag,” demonstrated Freddie’s knack for writing cool riff tunes.
Myths, Apocrypha and Attitude
Freddie kept his personal life close to the chest and sat for few interviews, and those were usually short. Some say he was modest and others believed he just had a calm sense of focus and self-confidence. And although he was never arrogant, he was often laconic.
In Jim Hall’s biographical documentary, A Life in Progress, he tells of his first encounter with Freddie; “The first time I met him was on that ‘Sound of Jazz’ television show that Nat Hentoff helped put together. So it was a break… everybody left the studio and Freddie was sitting there reading a newspaper. I was a kid and I said, ‘Hi Freddie. Would you mind if I took a look at your guitar?’ And he put his paper down and said ‘Yes. I would.’ And I could feel the tears starting to come and I thought ‘Awe man! Why did I ask? What a dumb thing to ask!’ But we became good friends afterwards.”
Guitarist and Freddie aficionado Michael Pettersen, who may know more about Freddie than anyone other than Green’s family, related a backstage story… “I asked Mr. Green if he would discuss his rhythm guitar technique for a jazz-magazine article, he simply said, ‘No.’ I did get his autograph, and got one word. That was a good night!”
There are some other apocrypha surrounding Freddie. For instance, there is no documented proof that Green studied with Allan Reuss. Nor was he ever called “The Claw.” Contrary to some rumors, he always used a pick. And he wasn’t called “Pepperhead” (or “Pep”) because of his enthusiasm or his being a spark plug for the band. According to trumpeter Clark Terry, he got the name when horn section guys noticed how the hair on the back of his neck would resemble peppercorns after he got a short haircut.
It’s a myth that Green never took a solo. He didn’t solo often, but you can hear a number of his solos on record. “In particular on the ’50s album Memories Ad Lib,” says Pettersen. John Hammond opined that although Freddie was a fan and good friend of Charlie Christian, when he soloed, he sounded more like Eddie Lang. Many players of the era were plugged into the Christian muse, but even as a soloist, Freddie was from a different school.
Technique, Style and Guitars
“He’s not just playing chords, he’s playing a lot of chords.” Wes Montgomery on Freddie Green.
Wes was right in the respect that Freddie indeed had an arsenal of ideas at his command but good taste and creativity always governed his playing. So often with Freddie, less was more. Jay Graydon, studio ace, songwriter, producer and the guitarist who pulled the sword from the stone by nailing the quirky solo on Steely Dan’s, “Peg,” related the following story.
“During a dinner hang with the guys, I mentioned to Jimmy Wyble that I had just bought a 1932 Gibson L-5 that sounded incredible. We talked about how to voice the typical three-note chords for big-band/Freddie-Green-style playing and we agreed the tri-tone chord-voicing concept (the D and G string) eliminating the low-E (or A) string bass note is a good move when the roots are not practical, meaning the tri-tone (a raised fourth or flatted fifth), works in a flow with chords. Yeah, all of the cats know this, but now for the best part; Jimmy said that Freddie would sometimes play just one note to voice-lead in a musical fashion. Wow!
“Jimmy said Freddie swung from the downbeat, and that makes total sense, as he is the only guitarist who was the time keeper of the band that included a drummer. I told Jimmy I once watched a video of the Basie band that looked like it was filmed in the early ’70s. The camera panned around to Freddie playing on a side view and I noticed his action was about an inch high. Ouch! Never a fret-out and a huge midrange sound! I assume he never needed a fret job.”
Pettersen adds, “For Jay’s information, the distance from the 12th fret to the low E on Freddie’s Stromberg was a half-inch. Freddie’s son, Al, measured it.” And Green was quoted saying, “I feel it better that way. I have the strings up higher than the average guitarist because I find that you can be heard better.” Jazz great Mundell Lowe has noted how, “Freddie held the guitar almost horizontally which probably allowed for his desired attack with the pick, and the bottom of the guitar could resonate better. Freddie and I talked about this several times. He said if you play the basics on the guitar, like on an F chord, you play F, and on top of that an A note and an Eb for the seventh. That leaves the piano player and the rest of the band to play all the altered notes – the good notes. So what you’re doing is supporting the bass sound, which makes sense.”
Jazz guitarist and composer John Pisano tells of hanging with Freddie when the Basie band was at Disneyland. Pisano asked Green how long it took to get accustomed to high action. Freddie responded with a big smile, “A long time.”
But there was much more to the technique than just high action and a few chord notes. With estimates of his having played at least 250,000,000 quarter-note downstrokes, those who have assiduously studied Green’s style have ascertained the guitarist developed the ability to isolate a subset of notes within the three- or four-note chords he was playing. Part of his brilliance was his exquisite and split-second choice of notes to complement the texture of the arrangement. What he made look simple was actually sophisticated voice-leading and counterpoint. And often, as Wyble points out, Freddie’s choice would be a single note.
Green experimented briefly in the late ’40s with an amplified guitar, though it was just a floating DeArmond pickup (looks like a model 1100) on his Stromberg 400. In Jazz Anecdotes, Basie’s legendary trumpeter, Harry “Sweets” Edison, laughingly explained why Freddie never developed as a soloist, and by extension, just how important Freddie’s function as a timekeeper was.
Edison recalled, “Freddie could have been a fine soloist, and was a good soloist at one time when it became fashionable for guitarists to play solos. He and Charlie Christian were very close, and Christian gave him an amplifier. But whenever Freddie would lay out of the band to take his solo, the rhythm section used to fall apart. So one night, I removed the plug from Freddie’s amp. Next night, Herschel Evans would break a wire in it. Freddie would have it fixed. Next night, Prez (Lester Young) would take the plug out, you know? That’s how we did it. I mean, the band just wasn’t swinging. So finally, we just took the guts out of the amp and when Freddie got ready to play, there was nothing there but a box. Naturally, he got furious, but nobody paid him any attention. So he said, ‘To hell with it. I won’t play any more solos.’ That rang a bell with us. We had to sacrifice him for the good of the band.”
Edison’s story may also give credence to the theory that every style is the result of a handicap or circumstance. In fact, the rhythm section itself helped create Basie’s spare piano approach by freeing him from having to play a stride style. He was a superb stride pianist, but that technique wasn’t needed in a big band. So, Page, Jo Jones, and Freddie in essence fostered the manifestation of Basie’s signature sound on the piano. In fact, in later years, Basie would refer to Freddie as “my left hand.” In a 1985 interview, the band’s trumpet virtuoso, Buck Clayton, said, “Basie never did play much with his left hand, so Freddie substituted for it.” Basie’s advice to any new member of the band was “Listen to the guitar.”
In the ’30s, Freddie played an Epiphone Emperor, a guitar built to compete with Gibson’s L-5. Later, he played a Gibson Super 400, which supplanted the L-5 as Gibson’s flagship model. But one Freddie fan, the late Al Hendrickson, who worked with both Goodman and Artie Shaw, didn’t think the L-5 had the ballsy sound of the Epiphones, and evidently, Freddie agreed (by the way, that’s Hendrickson in the desert scene with the Basie band playing “Freddie” in the film Blazing Saddles).
In the ’40s and ’50s, one would see Freddie with a Stromberg Master 400 and sometimes a Master 300, both created specifically to deliver and distinguish themselves in a big-band setting. Later in the ’50s, when the Strombergs (father and son), passed away, the guitars they created soared in value. Green was wise to protect his treasures and opt for something more practical and roadworthy. That’s when he made a deal with Gretsch to play their 18” blond Eldorado non-cutaway. Word has it that Barry Galbraith, a fine guitarist who played rhythm with Les and Larry Elgart’s band, once said Freddie’s Gretsch initially didn’t sound very good, but later came alive.
Coda
On June 21, 2006, Green was inducted into the American Society of Composers, Authors and Publishers (ASCAP) Jazz Wall of Fame in New York City. The award was presented by Dr. Billy Taylor and accepted by Freddie’s son Al, and daughter, Miriam.
Green was an immovable presence in Basie’s band for a half-century. Even when an economic downturn caused Basie to reduce the size of the band to an octet, the guitarist remained, justifying his sine qua non status. And after Basie’s death in 1984, Freddie took the helm of the band for the next three years, until his own passing.
In March of 1987, Green died just after playing a gig in Las Vegas. He was 75, and the last surviving member of The All-American Rhythm Section.
To say Green was synonymous with the Basie band – moreover, rhythm guitar – is an understatement. His name is an adjective; players talk about “the Freddie Green sound” or “the Freddie Green style.” It’s not simply respect from peers, it’s proof he has an iconic status few artists achieve.
Jim Hall, one of jazz guitar’s greatest players, summed it up succinctly when he said, “If you pruned the tree of jazz, Freddie Green would be the only person left.”
Special thanks to Michael Pettersen/freddiegreen.org, Al Green, Bill Crow, Stan Brit, Jim Hall, Mundell Lowe, Jay Graydon, Doug Green, John Pisano, Jim Ferguson, and Stanley and Helen Dance.
This article originally appeared in VG’s October 2010 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.
