JAM Magazine: August/September 1999 Issue: Profile- Rosy McHargue

"Rosy" McHargue
1902 - 1999

By Floyd Levin

Rosy McHargue, probably the oldest active jazz musician, died on June 7, 1999. The lamentable news spread rapidly throughout the jazz world via telephone, fax and the internet. Those of us whose lives were inexplicably altered by his presence must now confront a world that will never be the same without him.

Listening to the 97-year-old jazzman was comparable to opening a time capsule releasing long entombed segments of musical Americana. He joyfully removed decades of dust from neglected words and music that personified the Jazz Age. Those songs were an escapist relaxation of wartime tensions, youthful rebellious expressions against a conservative society, and tuneful images that brightened the dismal Depression years.

Who else sang the verses to "Indiana," or "Has Anybody Seen My Gal"? Or the multiple verses and choruses of arcane melodies like "Doin' the Raccoon," "My Canary Has Circles Under His Eyes," "She Looks Like Helen Brown," "I'll See You in C-U-B-A" and dozens more. The last time he sang those songs was on Saturday, May 29, 1999, about a week prior to his death.

During the many years I have been documenting the jazz scene, the name Rosy McHargue probably has appeared in my text more often than any other. That was an earnest reflection of his brilliance as a musician and a skilled entertainer -- and not merely because he was my friend longer than any of the other jazzmen I have known.

I enjoyed his warm friendship, respected his ability as a jazz artist, and welcomed every opportunity to hear him playing his saxophone and singing the great old songs nobody else remembered.

Amid today's rampant commerciality, the word legend is often over-used. In Rosy McHargue's case, it was most applicable. Incredible as it might seem, this wonderful man performed professionally during each of the last nine decades -- from the teens through most of the '90s!

He lived almost a century and generally enjoyed good health. During his lifetime, he witnessed the most eventful period in history. The crucial era brought great changes in travel and social order, the worst wars mankind has witnessed, and enormous technological advances that have greatly altered our way of life.

His contribution might seem minuscule by comparison; but, those of us who knew and loved him realize that the great joy he brought to his audiences was also an achievement of monumental importance.

I clearly recall the first time I saw Rosy McHargue. The passage of years has not dimmed the bright memory of that initial meeting. It was in 1947, and I ventured into the Hangover Club, a small Hollywood saloon on Vine Street near Sunset Boulevard to see Pete Daily's Chicagoans.

I had never before heard a live Dixieland jazz band. The shattering impact of hearing that fine little group created a deep and lasting impression; and Rosy was the handsome young clarinetist who also wrote the band's great arrangements. I felt something happen then that permanently changed the course of my life.

As a very young musician, Rosy was inspired by the sound of Larry Shields' clarinet in the Original Dixieland Jass Band. Rosy played his first professional engagement in 1917, shortly after hearing the initial ODJB recordings. He became a very skilled instrumentalist.

His rare C-Melody saxophone has not been manufactured since 1929. His interest in the horn was roused by listening to Jack Pettis playing the first sax Rosy ever heard. Pettis later gained fame with the New Orleans Rhythm Kings.

During an interview for the Smithsonian Institution a few years ago, he told me, "My real name is James Eugene McHargue. I was born in Danville, Illinois on April 6, 1902. The name 'Rosy' came from the first band I played in, the 'Novelty Syncopators.' I was 15 years old. I used to sing a novelty Hawaiian song, 'When Rosie Riccoola Do Da Hoola Ma Boola'. Since then, everyone has called me 'Rosy.'"

Despite the passage of more than 80 years he continued crooning the old song in tones that radiated enthusiasm and youthful glee.

During our interview, Rosy clearly recalled details of his long and eventful career. He had vivid memories of Bix Beiderbecke, Frankie Trumbauer, Eddie Lang, Jimmy Noone, King Oliver, the Wolverines and many more.

That interview also included Rosy's recollections of his first recording date when the musicians still played into conical devices.

"I had been working in Chicago for about a year playing in Sig Meyers' orchestra; that's where I met Muggsy Spanier. At the time, the Seattle Harmony Kings were very popular. When they asked me to join the band, I left Sig Meyers and started with the Harmony Kings at the Million Dollar Pier in Atlantic City. 'Wild Bill' Davison joined the band later.

"While we were at Atlantic City, we went to Camden, New Jersey, to record three sides at the Victor studios. I played about eight bars on the baritone sax; I think it was 'Breezin' Along With the Breeze'. I had to put my alto down and run about ten feet to play the baritone then run back. That's how they made records back in 1925!"

Since that Victor date with the Seattle Harmony Kings, his clarinet and saxophone have added grace notes on recordings in orchestras led by Roy Schoenbeck, Frankie Trumbauer, Ted Weems, Kay Kyser and Benny Goodman, to name just a few.

When small jazz bands regained favor after World War II, Rosy's articulate horn sparked groups led by Pete Daily, Red Nichols and Pee Wee Hunt. His intentionally hackneyed solo helped catapult Hunt's 1948 recording of "12th Street Rag" to sales of more than 12 million. Clarinetists throughout the world still struggle to emulate his burlesqued chorus.

From now on, whenever I hear a small band swinging, or a vocalist singing an obscure song from the jazz age, it will create a vivid image of Rosy McHargue. Like an old photograph, he is a link to the vision of yesterday. Prints can fade through the years. But the happy memory of Rosy singing his old songs will never vanish.

Sounds corny? Perhaps it is. But his audiences always had beaming smiles that reflected his convivial radiance. They reminded me of the happy crowds at that Vine Street club back in 1947. Even the dusty old moose head above the Hangover bar was smiling!

"Rosy McHargue & Friends" has been listed on advertisements for the Los Angeles Sweet and Hot Music Festival at the L.A. Airport Hotel, Labor Day Weekend, September 3, 4, 5, and 6, 1999. His band will appear throughout the weekend in tribute performances to their beloved leader.

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© Kansas City Jazz Ambassadors 1996-2001. All rights reserved.






	Search our site:		"Rosy" McHargue 1902 - 1999 By Floyd Levin Rosy McHargue, probably the oldest active jazz musician, died on June 7, 1999. The lamentable news spread rapidly throughout the jazz world via telephone, fax and the internet. Those of us whose lives were inexplicably altered by his presence must now confront a world that will never be the same without him. Listening to the 97-year-old jazzman was comparable to opening a time capsule releasing long entombed segments of musical Americana. He joyfully removed decades of dust from neglected words and music that personified the Jazz Age. Those songs were an escapist relaxation of wartime tensions, youthful rebellious expressions against a conservative society, and tuneful images that brightened the dismal Depression years. Who else sang the verses to "Indiana," or "Has Anybody Seen My Gal"? Or the multiple verses and choruses of arcane melodies like "Doin' the Raccoon," "My Canary Has Circles Under His Eyes," "She Looks Like Helen Brown," "I'll See You in C-U-B-A" and dozens more. The last time he sang those songs was on Saturday, May 29, 1999, about a week prior to his death. During the many years I have been documenting the jazz scene, the name Rosy McHargue probably has appeared in my text more often than any other. That was an earnest reflection of his brilliance as a musician and a skilled entertainer -- and not merely because he was my friend longer than any of the other jazzmen I have known. I enjoyed his warm friendship, respected his ability as a jazz artist, and welcomed every opportunity to hear him playing his saxophone and singing the great old songs nobody else remembered. Amid today's rampant commerciality, the word legend is often over-used. In Rosy McHargue's case, it was most applicable. Incredible as it might seem, this wonderful man performed professionally during each of the last nine decades -- from the teens through most of the '90s! He lived almost a century and generally enjoyed good health. During his lifetime, he witnessed the most eventful period in history. The crucial era brought great changes in travel and social order, the worst wars mankind has witnessed, and enormous technological advances that have greatly altered our way of life. His contribution might seem minuscule by comparison; but, those of us who knew and loved him realize that the great joy he brought to his audiences was also an achievement of monumental importance. I clearly recall the first time I saw Rosy McHargue. The passage of years has not dimmed the bright memory of that initial meeting. It was in 1947, and I ventured into the Hangover Club, a small Hollywood saloon on Vine Street near Sunset Boulevard to see Pete Daily's Chicagoans. I had never before heard a live Dixieland jazz band. The shattering impact of hearing that fine little group created a deep and lasting impression; and Rosy was the handsome young clarinetist who also wrote the band's great arrangements. I felt something happen then that permanently changed the course of my life. As a very young musician, Rosy was inspired by the sound of Larry Shields' clarinet in the Original Dixieland Jass Band. Rosy played his first professional engagement in 1917, shortly after hearing the initial ODJB recordings. He became a very skilled instrumentalist. His rare C-Melody saxophone has not been manufactured since 1929. His interest in the horn was roused by listening to Jack Pettis playing the first sax Rosy ever heard. Pettis later gained fame with the New Orleans Rhythm Kings. During an interview for the Smithsonian Institution a few years ago, he told me, "My real name is James Eugene McHargue. I was born in Danville, Illinois on April 6, 1902. The name 'Rosy' came from the first band I played in, the 'Novelty Syncopators.' I was 15 years old. I used to sing a novelty Hawaiian song, 'When Rosie Riccoola Do Da Hoola Ma Boola'. Since then, everyone has called me 'Rosy.'" Despite the passage of more than 80 years he continued crooning the old song in tones that radiated enthusiasm and youthful glee. During our interview, Rosy clearly recalled details of his long and eventful career. He had vivid memories of Bix Beiderbecke, Frankie Trumbauer, Eddie Lang, Jimmy Noone, King Oliver, the Wolverines and many more. That interview also included Rosy's recollections of his first recording date when the musicians still played into conical devices. "I had been working in Chicago for about a year playing in Sig Meyers' orchestra; that's where I met Muggsy Spanier. At the time, the Seattle Harmony Kings were very popular. When they asked me to join the band, I left Sig Meyers and started with the Harmony Kings at the Million Dollar Pier in Atlantic City. 'Wild Bill' Davison joined the band later. "While we were at Atlantic City, we went to Camden, New Jersey, to record three sides at the Victor studios. I played about eight bars on the baritone sax; I think it was 'Breezin' Along With the Breeze'. I had to put my alto down and run about ten feet to play the baritone then run back. That's how they made records back in 1925!" Since that Victor date with the Seattle Harmony Kings, his clarinet and saxophone have added grace notes on recordings in orchestras led by Roy Schoenbeck, Frankie Trumbauer, Ted Weems, Kay Kyser and Benny Goodman, to name just a few. When small jazz bands regained favor after World War II, Rosy's articulate horn sparked groups led by Pete Daily, Red Nichols and Pee Wee Hunt. His intentionally hackneyed solo helped catapult Hunt's 1948 recording of "12th Street Rag" to sales of more than 12 million. Clarinetists throughout the world still struggle to emulate his burlesqued chorus. From now on, whenever I hear a small band swinging, or a vocalist singing an obscure song from the jazz age, it will create a vivid image of Rosy McHargue. Like an old photograph, he is a link to the vision of yesterday. Prints can fade through the years. But the happy memory of Rosy singing his old songs will never vanish. Sounds corny? Perhaps it is. But his audiences always had beaming smiles that reflected his convivial radiance. They reminded me of the happy crowds at that Vine Street club back in 1947. Even the dusty old moose head above the Hangover bar was smiling! "Rosy McHargue & Friends" has been listed on advertisements for the Los Angeles Sweet and Hot Music Festival at the L.A. Airport Hotel, Labor Day Weekend, September 3, 4, 5, and 6, 1999. His band will appear throughout the weekend in tribute performances to their beloved leader. RETURN TO AUGUST 1999 MAIN INDEX ------------------------------------------------------------------------ © Kansas City Jazz Ambassadors 1996-2001. All rights reserved.