Biography
Spike Jones maintained an intense schedule during the closing years of the 1930s, working as an independent studio percussionist on film scores, phonograph discs, and broadcast programs. The active young timekeeper traveled between Hollywood facilities in a station wagon that resembled a rolling scrap heap. Opportunities to deploy cowbells, sirens, and automobile horns remained scarce in those assignments, leaving him sufficiently dissatisfied that he resolved to assemble his own ensemble “where I could make as much noise as I wanted,” as he once stated.
From the beginning, Delmar Porter—who had sung with the Foursome, the vocal-and-ocarina quartet Jones had accompanied on Decca—served as Jones’ collaborator in musical disruption. Porter directed a six-piece outfit known as the Feather Merchants; Jones handled its management until the unit slowly transformed into the City Slickers.
At the outset, few players regarded Jones and Porter with seriousness. The project amounted to nothing more than a part-time endeavor, and several musicians already holding reliable radio positions withdrew after one or two rehearsals.
The exact development of the ensemble, drawn from various studio players known to both Spike and Del, remains difficult to trace. The picture grows more complicated with the simultaneous existence of another Jones-led group that cut experimental “penny records” for the short-lived Cinematone Corporation. That unit also featured Porter along with future Slickers Perry Botkin on banjo, Kingsley Jackson on trombone, and Stanley Wrightsman on piano.
When the musicians first entered Victor studios in 1941, Jones had not yet been designated official leader, nor had the group adopted its eventual name. Trumpeter Bruce Hudson, engaged for that single afternoon, later recalled, “It was a lot of fun but it never occurred to me it was going to be anything big. We were freelance musicians who were having a ball doing crazy music.”
Del Porter handled the vocals and prepared the basic charts in tandem with trombonist King Jackson, whose inventive contributions shaped the ensemble’s character. Upon the October release of “Behind Those Swinging Doors”/“Red Wing,” the label first publicly credited the group as Spike Jones and his City Slickers.
Within twelve months of that initial Victor date, most of the participating sidemen—among them Botkin, Jackson, Wrightsman, and bassist Hank Stern—moved on to other engagements. Porter and violinist Carl “Donald” Grayson remained. Don Anderson, a fellow musician from the Fibber McGee & Molly broadcasts, joined the day after the first session and became the band’s first regular trumpet player.
Botkin, occupied with radio commitments, recruited Luther Roundtree as his banjo replacement. Wrightsman, a skilled jazz pianist uninterested in the Slickers’ high-impact approach, yielded the keyboard chair to Frank Leithner, who appeared with Spike on The Eddie Cantor Show. Jackson enlisted in the army and was succeeded by trombonist John Stanley.
Hank Stern’s replacement on tuba and string bass was an individual of exceptional versatility. Joe “Country” Washburne, a first-class jazz performer who had played with Ted Weems, gradually assumed the majority of arranging responsibilities from Porter. In that capacity he exerted considerable influence as the Slickers shifted from a lighthearted rustic manner to the unrestrained, all-out lunacy that propelled them to prominence.
Ernest “Red” Ingle, another Weems alumnus, proved more than competent on saxophone; he was engaged primarily for his comedic flair. Together with Carl Grayson, Ingle supplied Jones with the jokes and vocal mannerisms that demolished the chosen repertoire.
Several early members departed because they could not meet Jones’ requirement for “first call” on their schedules; most maintained primary employment elsewhere and viewed the band as secondary. Frank Leithner, who seemed to appear on every radio program in town, was among the few who could dictate their own conditions—and obtain them.
Other colleagues, including Del Porter, left after concluding that their contributions were undervalued. Country Washburne, whose charts permanently “Spiked” “Cocktails for Two,” received no public credit for that contribution yet continued to supply arrangements despite the lack of recognition.
Nevertheless, musicians across the field sought opportunities to work with Spike. Shortly before Porter’s exit, Jones brought in two pivotal figures: Dick “Red” Morgan, previously recorded with Alvino Rey, on banjo and guitar; and trumpeter George Rock, drawn from the employ of rival music satirist Freddie Fisher, who quickly became the ensemble’s dominant voice.
The band’s personnel underwent substantial alteration in 1946, a period of major personal and professional transition for Jones. With bookings at an all-time high, he ceased drinking and reconstituted the group for a new two-hour variety program while simultaneously launching an exhausting national touring regimen. Hard-drinking Carl Grayson, whose contributions had included the vocals on “Der Fuehrer’s Face” and “Cocktails for Two,” was among the first dismissed.
Red Ingle resigned to launch independent projects, including his own band, and additional members were let go. Replacements included rising nightclub comedians Doodles Weaver and Earl Bennett (renamed Sir Frederick Gas by Jones), clarinetist Mickey Katz, drummer Joe Siracusa, and veteran comic-banjoist Freddy Morgan. Bird-and-animal imitator Purv Pullen (now Dr. Horatio Q. Birdbath) introduced an assortment of vocal sound effects, while dwarf Frankie Little and giant Junior Martin supplied further visual comedy.
The City Slickers attained their peak during the late 1940s with the Coca-Cola-sponsored CBS series The Musical Depreciation Revue and such musically elaborate discs as “Rhapsody from Hunger” and “Morpheus.” Within a few years, however, the demands of constant travel and the arrival of television began to erode both the zany ensemble and its once-dominant popularity. Jones attempted to adapt to the new medium through appearances on The Colgate Comedy Hour and several short-lived programs, yet failing health and shifting musical preferences ultimately concluded the City Slickers’ run.
Jones’ later New Band, which merged folk elements with traditional Dixieland in the early 1960s and alienated longtime listeners, represented, in his words, “just a temporary musical disarmament until rock & roll blows over.” He was nevertheless obliged to concede, “It’s been eight years blowing over, and it’s blowing better now than ever.”
From the beginning, Delmar Porter—who had sung with the Foursome, the vocal-and-ocarina quartet Jones had accompanied on Decca—served as Jones’ collaborator in musical disruption. Porter directed a six-piece outfit known as the Feather Merchants; Jones handled its management until the unit slowly transformed into the City Slickers.
At the outset, few players regarded Jones and Porter with seriousness. The project amounted to nothing more than a part-time endeavor, and several musicians already holding reliable radio positions withdrew after one or two rehearsals.
The exact development of the ensemble, drawn from various studio players known to both Spike and Del, remains difficult to trace. The picture grows more complicated with the simultaneous existence of another Jones-led group that cut experimental “penny records” for the short-lived Cinematone Corporation. That unit also featured Porter along with future Slickers Perry Botkin on banjo, Kingsley Jackson on trombone, and Stanley Wrightsman on piano.
When the musicians first entered Victor studios in 1941, Jones had not yet been designated official leader, nor had the group adopted its eventual name. Trumpeter Bruce Hudson, engaged for that single afternoon, later recalled, “It was a lot of fun but it never occurred to me it was going to be anything big. We were freelance musicians who were having a ball doing crazy music.”
Del Porter handled the vocals and prepared the basic charts in tandem with trombonist King Jackson, whose inventive contributions shaped the ensemble’s character. Upon the October release of “Behind Those Swinging Doors”/“Red Wing,” the label first publicly credited the group as Spike Jones and his City Slickers.
Within twelve months of that initial Victor date, most of the participating sidemen—among them Botkin, Jackson, Wrightsman, and bassist Hank Stern—moved on to other engagements. Porter and violinist Carl “Donald” Grayson remained. Don Anderson, a fellow musician from the Fibber McGee & Molly broadcasts, joined the day after the first session and became the band’s first regular trumpet player.
Botkin, occupied with radio commitments, recruited Luther Roundtree as his banjo replacement. Wrightsman, a skilled jazz pianist uninterested in the Slickers’ high-impact approach, yielded the keyboard chair to Frank Leithner, who appeared with Spike on The Eddie Cantor Show. Jackson enlisted in the army and was succeeded by trombonist John Stanley.
Hank Stern’s replacement on tuba and string bass was an individual of exceptional versatility. Joe “Country” Washburne, a first-class jazz performer who had played with Ted Weems, gradually assumed the majority of arranging responsibilities from Porter. In that capacity he exerted considerable influence as the Slickers shifted from a lighthearted rustic manner to the unrestrained, all-out lunacy that propelled them to prominence.
Ernest “Red” Ingle, another Weems alumnus, proved more than competent on saxophone; he was engaged primarily for his comedic flair. Together with Carl Grayson, Ingle supplied Jones with the jokes and vocal mannerisms that demolished the chosen repertoire.
Several early members departed because they could not meet Jones’ requirement for “first call” on their schedules; most maintained primary employment elsewhere and viewed the band as secondary. Frank Leithner, who seemed to appear on every radio program in town, was among the few who could dictate their own conditions—and obtain them.
Other colleagues, including Del Porter, left after concluding that their contributions were undervalued. Country Washburne, whose charts permanently “Spiked” “Cocktails for Two,” received no public credit for that contribution yet continued to supply arrangements despite the lack of recognition.
Nevertheless, musicians across the field sought opportunities to work with Spike. Shortly before Porter’s exit, Jones brought in two pivotal figures: Dick “Red” Morgan, previously recorded with Alvino Rey, on banjo and guitar; and trumpeter George Rock, drawn from the employ of rival music satirist Freddie Fisher, who quickly became the ensemble’s dominant voice.
The band’s personnel underwent substantial alteration in 1946, a period of major personal and professional transition for Jones. With bookings at an all-time high, he ceased drinking and reconstituted the group for a new two-hour variety program while simultaneously launching an exhausting national touring regimen. Hard-drinking Carl Grayson, whose contributions had included the vocals on “Der Fuehrer’s Face” and “Cocktails for Two,” was among the first dismissed.
Red Ingle resigned to launch independent projects, including his own band, and additional members were let go. Replacements included rising nightclub comedians Doodles Weaver and Earl Bennett (renamed Sir Frederick Gas by Jones), clarinetist Mickey Katz, drummer Joe Siracusa, and veteran comic-banjoist Freddy Morgan. Bird-and-animal imitator Purv Pullen (now Dr. Horatio Q. Birdbath) introduced an assortment of vocal sound effects, while dwarf Frankie Little and giant Junior Martin supplied further visual comedy.
The City Slickers attained their peak during the late 1940s with the Coca-Cola-sponsored CBS series The Musical Depreciation Revue and such musically elaborate discs as “Rhapsody from Hunger” and “Morpheus.” Within a few years, however, the demands of constant travel and the arrival of television began to erode both the zany ensemble and its once-dominant popularity. Jones attempted to adapt to the new medium through appearances on The Colgate Comedy Hour and several short-lived programs, yet failing health and shifting musical preferences ultimately concluded the City Slickers’ run.
Jones’ later New Band, which merged folk elements with traditional Dixieland in the early 1960s and alienated longtime listeners, represented, in his words, “just a temporary musical disarmament until rock & roll blows over.” He was nevertheless obliged to concede, “It’s been eight years blowing over, and it’s blowing better now than ever.”