Post by AlanB on May 5, 2015 4:08:03 GMT -5
The late Mike Leadbitter was a great advocate of Candy Green. Check out Green on the Net.
The Story of Clarence 'Candy' Green
by Mike Leadbitter
(Jazz Journal, July 1973, p.23-24)
I was most surprised to find Jimmy Thomas, an ex-member of Ike Turner's Kings Of Rhythm, living and working in London and even more surprised when he told me that a Texan named Candy Green was also in town. I had spent a large part of one summer in Houston looking for the same man and couldn't really believe that he'd just turn up on my doorstep. Taking his 'phone number, I called a couple of days later and was told by the voice that answered that he was indeed Clarence 'Candy' Green, the composer of Galveston and Green's Bounce. Grabbing a tape recorder, I set out to get his story before he had time to escape.
Clarence was living in a small flat near Earls Court tube station and had been there for some time. He'd completed some work for Johnny Nash and was thinking about moving on. I'd picked a good time to contact him. Settling down, we began to tall; about the good old days in a somewhat wary fashion. But when he knew that I knew and I became positive that this was indeed the man I'd long been after the conversation became animated and eventually lively. And here is what I learned.
Clarence, who is not related to the guitar playing Green brothers, Cal and Clarence, from Houston, was born at Texas' Galveston Island on March 15, 1929 and raised there by his mother and step-father, both of whom were devout churchgoers.
His mother kept a piano in the home and would use it to accompany herself singing spirituals. From an early age, Clarence would perch on the piano stool and try to prick out tunes by ear, but every time he tried to play something popular his mother would make him stop, warning him that the devil would take him if he messed with the blues. But he persisted, playing blues when his parents were away from the house. The local kids would come round to listen to a little boogie and warn the pianist of the return of grown-ups, but one day they were too busy dancing to notice and Clarence was caught blue-handed. Eventually forgiven by his mother he was told to go ahead on and play the devil's music, if that was what he really wanted. And he did.
He'd first heard blues as a youngster, for the next-door neighbours possessed a wind-up gramophone and would throw a house-rent party every Saturday night. Clarence would sneak out doors and listen to the music blaring out. At first he came to know Washboard Sam, Arbee Stidham, Joe Turner and Albert Ammons and later Lightnin' Hopkins, Jay McShann, Walter Brown and Jimmy Witherspoon. But it was a man with 'a hell of a talent and a hell of a presentation' that really impressed him and that man was Charles Brown. 'I was really going through that Nat Cole-Charles Brown-Billy Eckstine bag at the time', Clarence remarked.
Galveston is an internationally famous port, at least with seamen (it was Bexhill matelots who first introduced Fats Domino to the town—my hometown—after trips to that wondrous place), and during the War years it was wide-open with prostitution, gambling, boozing and music available 24 hours a day and money was thrown around like the waves on the beach. At the age of 15, Clarence drifted into the world of pimps and whores, playing piano in the honky tonks for tips and learning about cards and dice. He was much liked and encouraged by Galveston's underworld, becoming a great favourite. Liquor never did appeal to him (and still doesn't), so he coped well, get ting a fast education in hustling and survival techniques
In 1945 he joined the Merchant Navy and stayed with it until 1948, seeing most of Europe and Asia. When on leave he'd head for the haunts he knew so well, first performing solo and then, in 1947, forming his own little combo to suit the public. Johnny Fontenette, who later joined Roy Brown's band, was on tenor-sax, Horace Richmond played bass and Rip Bolden was at the drums. 1948 saw his discharge and the growing popularity of one of his songs called Galveston Blues. Asked by a local KGBC disc-jockey to sing it on the air, Clarence wasn't too startled to be approached by a record-man soon after wards.
Eddie Henry, who operated 'Eddie's Records' on Houston's Dowling Street sent for the Green combo to come up and make a record and they obliged, cutting Galveston Blues and Green's Bounce for Eddie's label. But, 'the whole thing was a fiasco': Eddie went out of business and the band broke up.-Clarence then toured alone through Louisiana and Texas on the strength of his mini-hit, but found he usually made more money gambling than he did singing. He was 'having a lot of fun' .however and didn't really care too much at the time about anything.
He decided to approach Don Robey in 1950 about making a record for the Pea cock label and ended up with a three year contract, recording Hard Headed Woman at the first session with Bill Harvey's Band. 'That was the baddest band in America at the time', he said. 'They all was from Memphis and they were bad cats man'. But before much could be done to promote the title or record a follow-up, Clarence found himself drafted, spending two years in an Army camp near Indianapolis.
He went in during January '51, and though Robey did hold another session when he was once on leave, nothing much else was done to help his musical career. Clarence, however, survived in typical fashion, gigging around Naptown with Wes Montgomery and doing a lot of gambling. When on leave, he learned to avoid Peacock and refused to make re cords 'for a bottle of whiskey and a chick'—the only advance payment many received at the time—and turned down offers from Sittin' In With and Mercury, both of which came via Bob Shad, but succumbed to one from a Mr. Limowitz who recorded him in Houston for the Essex label of Philadelphia.
That was during 1952 and Clarence was still under contract to Peacock so he became Galveston Green for the date, using Rathe Lee (tenor-sax), Kinrey Bailey (bs) and Lawrence Harris (dm) to back him on My Time Is Your Time. This trio even got a much mis-spelled credit on the record label. And around the same time he cut his last Stateside discs in Houston for Monarch, another Philadelphia company, making Bad Shape Blues with Joe Woods (tenor-sax), Clarence Ward (gtr), Joe Coleman (bs) and Lawrence Harris. But the song didn't sell at all well, putting Clarence off the record business for a long, long time.
In January '53 Clarence returned home with a pile of money; he'd really struck lucky with the cards and cleaned out all his Army buddies just before his discharge. So he took it easy all that year, glad to be with his family and friends again on a permanent basis. He'd also gained a nickname—Candy—'Cause I'm sweet. The girls used to call me Candy when I was in the Army'. And he would henceforth be known as Candy Green.
'A big, roly-poly cat' named Paul Love (vocals and drums) asked him to join a band in 1954 that specialised in appearances at white joints and Candy found himself playing hillbilly and pops, but didn't really care—'It was all experience' He went with Love to Mexico City to do some gigs and stayed on after the band left, helping to run a little jazz club in town called the Echo. In 1958 he sold his share of the business and decided to really start rambling.
He travelled from Mexico City to New York on May 1st, 1958 and ended up by booking a flight to Copenhagen, a town he remembered from his Navy days. And then began the life he's lived until now— a life of occasional gigs, alone or with bands, good times and a series of attempts to run bars in tourist resorts. From Copenhagen he went on to Oslo and then Helsinki, eventually arriving in Sweden during December 1954, staying on until 1964, getting married and divorced in the process, before heading south to Berlin.
There he joined Leo Wright's band and worked steadily through '64 and '65, playing for G.Is, meeting bluesmen like Sonny Boy Williamson, touring East Germany and Czechoslovakia and even re cording as Candy Green for the Supraphon label. Occasionally he'd return to Galveston for short visits, but between 1966-72 had gone on to wander all over Spain, England, Sweden, Italy and Majorca, In spite of being interviewed by many European and Scandinavian papers no one appears to have ever connected him with the Houston days and of course Candy never bothered to inform them.
A happy-go-lucky, friendly sort of per son, he looks about twenty years younger than his actual age and acts it. As several lucky Londoners can now attest, his piano technique is superb and he can pitch a mean boogie-woogie when he wants to. And it's so good to hear the smooth, well played Charles Brown-type blues again. On top of this he has a vivid memory and a fund of stories about the early post War years in Texas if anyone cares to listen.
Clarence 'Candy' Green got itching feet once more and has already left England. For where I don't know. So keep watching—he's bound to pop up in the most unlikely place at any time and just about anywhere in the world. If spotted, he should be forced into a studio to record some Texas blues, for that's the only way everyone can get a chance to enjoy his vast talent, But don't suggest a game of cards afterwards—he's too hot to handle.
The Story of Clarence 'Candy' Green
by Mike Leadbitter
(Jazz Journal, July 1973, p.23-24)
I was most surprised to find Jimmy Thomas, an ex-member of Ike Turner's Kings Of Rhythm, living and working in London and even more surprised when he told me that a Texan named Candy Green was also in town. I had spent a large part of one summer in Houston looking for the same man and couldn't really believe that he'd just turn up on my doorstep. Taking his 'phone number, I called a couple of days later and was told by the voice that answered that he was indeed Clarence 'Candy' Green, the composer of Galveston and Green's Bounce. Grabbing a tape recorder, I set out to get his story before he had time to escape.
Clarence was living in a small flat near Earls Court tube station and had been there for some time. He'd completed some work for Johnny Nash and was thinking about moving on. I'd picked a good time to contact him. Settling down, we began to tall; about the good old days in a somewhat wary fashion. But when he knew that I knew and I became positive that this was indeed the man I'd long been after the conversation became animated and eventually lively. And here is what I learned.
Clarence, who is not related to the guitar playing Green brothers, Cal and Clarence, from Houston, was born at Texas' Galveston Island on March 15, 1929 and raised there by his mother and step-father, both of whom were devout churchgoers.
His mother kept a piano in the home and would use it to accompany herself singing spirituals. From an early age, Clarence would perch on the piano stool and try to prick out tunes by ear, but every time he tried to play something popular his mother would make him stop, warning him that the devil would take him if he messed with the blues. But he persisted, playing blues when his parents were away from the house. The local kids would come round to listen to a little boogie and warn the pianist of the return of grown-ups, but one day they were too busy dancing to notice and Clarence was caught blue-handed. Eventually forgiven by his mother he was told to go ahead on and play the devil's music, if that was what he really wanted. And he did.
He'd first heard blues as a youngster, for the next-door neighbours possessed a wind-up gramophone and would throw a house-rent party every Saturday night. Clarence would sneak out doors and listen to the music blaring out. At first he came to know Washboard Sam, Arbee Stidham, Joe Turner and Albert Ammons and later Lightnin' Hopkins, Jay McShann, Walter Brown and Jimmy Witherspoon. But it was a man with 'a hell of a talent and a hell of a presentation' that really impressed him and that man was Charles Brown. 'I was really going through that Nat Cole-Charles Brown-Billy Eckstine bag at the time', Clarence remarked.
Galveston is an internationally famous port, at least with seamen (it was Bexhill matelots who first introduced Fats Domino to the town—my hometown—after trips to that wondrous place), and during the War years it was wide-open with prostitution, gambling, boozing and music available 24 hours a day and money was thrown around like the waves on the beach. At the age of 15, Clarence drifted into the world of pimps and whores, playing piano in the honky tonks for tips and learning about cards and dice. He was much liked and encouraged by Galveston's underworld, becoming a great favourite. Liquor never did appeal to him (and still doesn't), so he coped well, get ting a fast education in hustling and survival techniques
In 1945 he joined the Merchant Navy and stayed with it until 1948, seeing most of Europe and Asia. When on leave he'd head for the haunts he knew so well, first performing solo and then, in 1947, forming his own little combo to suit the public. Johnny Fontenette, who later joined Roy Brown's band, was on tenor-sax, Horace Richmond played bass and Rip Bolden was at the drums. 1948 saw his discharge and the growing popularity of one of his songs called Galveston Blues. Asked by a local KGBC disc-jockey to sing it on the air, Clarence wasn't too startled to be approached by a record-man soon after wards.
Eddie Henry, who operated 'Eddie's Records' on Houston's Dowling Street sent for the Green combo to come up and make a record and they obliged, cutting Galveston Blues and Green's Bounce for Eddie's label. But, 'the whole thing was a fiasco': Eddie went out of business and the band broke up.-Clarence then toured alone through Louisiana and Texas on the strength of his mini-hit, but found he usually made more money gambling than he did singing. He was 'having a lot of fun' .however and didn't really care too much at the time about anything.
He decided to approach Don Robey in 1950 about making a record for the Pea cock label and ended up with a three year contract, recording Hard Headed Woman at the first session with Bill Harvey's Band. 'That was the baddest band in America at the time', he said. 'They all was from Memphis and they were bad cats man'. But before much could be done to promote the title or record a follow-up, Clarence found himself drafted, spending two years in an Army camp near Indianapolis.
He went in during January '51, and though Robey did hold another session when he was once on leave, nothing much else was done to help his musical career. Clarence, however, survived in typical fashion, gigging around Naptown with Wes Montgomery and doing a lot of gambling. When on leave, he learned to avoid Peacock and refused to make re cords 'for a bottle of whiskey and a chick'—the only advance payment many received at the time—and turned down offers from Sittin' In With and Mercury, both of which came via Bob Shad, but succumbed to one from a Mr. Limowitz who recorded him in Houston for the Essex label of Philadelphia.
That was during 1952 and Clarence was still under contract to Peacock so he became Galveston Green for the date, using Rathe Lee (tenor-sax), Kinrey Bailey (bs) and Lawrence Harris (dm) to back him on My Time Is Your Time. This trio even got a much mis-spelled credit on the record label. And around the same time he cut his last Stateside discs in Houston for Monarch, another Philadelphia company, making Bad Shape Blues with Joe Woods (tenor-sax), Clarence Ward (gtr), Joe Coleman (bs) and Lawrence Harris. But the song didn't sell at all well, putting Clarence off the record business for a long, long time.
In January '53 Clarence returned home with a pile of money; he'd really struck lucky with the cards and cleaned out all his Army buddies just before his discharge. So he took it easy all that year, glad to be with his family and friends again on a permanent basis. He'd also gained a nickname—Candy—'Cause I'm sweet. The girls used to call me Candy when I was in the Army'. And he would henceforth be known as Candy Green.
'A big, roly-poly cat' named Paul Love (vocals and drums) asked him to join a band in 1954 that specialised in appearances at white joints and Candy found himself playing hillbilly and pops, but didn't really care—'It was all experience' He went with Love to Mexico City to do some gigs and stayed on after the band left, helping to run a little jazz club in town called the Echo. In 1958 he sold his share of the business and decided to really start rambling.
He travelled from Mexico City to New York on May 1st, 1958 and ended up by booking a flight to Copenhagen, a town he remembered from his Navy days. And then began the life he's lived until now— a life of occasional gigs, alone or with bands, good times and a series of attempts to run bars in tourist resorts. From Copenhagen he went on to Oslo and then Helsinki, eventually arriving in Sweden during December 1954, staying on until 1964, getting married and divorced in the process, before heading south to Berlin.
There he joined Leo Wright's band and worked steadily through '64 and '65, playing for G.Is, meeting bluesmen like Sonny Boy Williamson, touring East Germany and Czechoslovakia and even re cording as Candy Green for the Supraphon label. Occasionally he'd return to Galveston for short visits, but between 1966-72 had gone on to wander all over Spain, England, Sweden, Italy and Majorca, In spite of being interviewed by many European and Scandinavian papers no one appears to have ever connected him with the Houston days and of course Candy never bothered to inform them.
A happy-go-lucky, friendly sort of per son, he looks about twenty years younger than his actual age and acts it. As several lucky Londoners can now attest, his piano technique is superb and he can pitch a mean boogie-woogie when he wants to. And it's so good to hear the smooth, well played Charles Brown-type blues again. On top of this he has a vivid memory and a fund of stories about the early post War years in Texas if anyone cares to listen.
Clarence 'Candy' Green got itching feet once more and has already left England. For where I don't know. So keep watching—he's bound to pop up in the most unlikely place at any time and just about anywhere in the world. If spotted, he should be forced into a studio to record some Texas blues, for that's the only way everyone can get a chance to enjoy his vast talent, But don't suggest a game of cards afterwards—he's too hot to handle.