Swing

About eight weeks ago, this column reported that Artic Shaw was going to be forced out of the music business. Last week Shaw apparently refuted this story by giving out a statement to the effect that he was sick and tired of the band business and was going to leave it of his own accord; that his income for the next year would have been around a quarter of a million dollars, but that he couldn't be bothered with such material things; and that therefore he was leaving for good. At this moment Shaw is somewhere in Texas with general destination Mexico.

Right after his departure, his band held a meeting, formed a cooperative, elected vocalist Tony Pastor president, and decided to call themselves "Tony Pastor with Art Shaw's orchestra."

Just before his rather dramatic exit, Shaw chose to rationalize his recent actions and to explain why he was heroically leaving now in an article about the business in general in the Saturday Evening Post.

In it, he tells how his recent sickness was due to the rotten hours, the long jumps on one nighters, the nervous tension that all musicians live under. He shows how the music business is rotten with commercialism. Booking offices, agents, song pluggers, and the big broadcasting chains all come in for their share of panning. I don't think that there is much doubt that Shaw is absolutely right in what he says about all of this. His only trouble on these points is that he didn't make them strong enough. So far so good. But Shaw goes on to say that it is these things that are making him leave the business. He says that he starved for two years with his original band idea of regular instrumentation plus string quartet--that he finally had to make some concession to public taste and acquire a more conventional setup, and that after that, he went ahead by means of his own boot straps.

Now let's take a look at some facts. Shaw claims that he is leaving the business, despite the fact that his income would have been some six-figured amount. Yet only a few months ago, he signed recording and booking contracts that were to run for two years. When his drummer, Buddy Rich, left to join Tommy Dorsey several weeks ago, Shaw, according to several of the men in his band, offered Rich a large increase in salary, and when Rich refused to stay, told him he could return whenever he wanted to. As far as ascertainable, his recording company, booking agency, and other business associates had no idea that he intended to leave. And whatever Shaw says, his income in the past year has been dropping below the $70,000 figure he made last year.

Of course, the fact that the suits against him total over $100,000 would have nothing to do with it--or the suit that would probably have forced him to live up to his contract with another recording firm. His recent polemics against the people he plays for and the natural public protest are obviously factors of no importance. And the item that one of the movie journals printed recently to the effect that Shaw was one of the most unpopular men in Hollywood because of his absolutely impossible arrogance and his hypercriticality is of no consequence.

Artie Shaw may have left the music business of his own free will. But he did so about two jumps ahead of an eviction order. The dance public is relieved rather than worried about his departure.

There is another small point. Shaw speaks of the ills of the industry that forced him to leave. These exist. But they weren't made to order for Arthur Shaw. Everyone in the business knows about them and allows for them. Shaw had been playing for enough years when he started as a leader to know what he was up against. The plain facts are that he didn't have any guts. Goodman didn't change his style to get to the top--he stuck to his guns and starved far longer than Shaw to get to the top. Count Basie played at $18 a week for six years before getting anywhere. Even sweet bands like Sammy Kaye were broke, but didn't bellyache. The show business demands an eye for an eye, and Shaw, after having fired the musicians that stuck to him in the thin days, decided that the role of a Hamletian martyr committing public hari-kari was better than facing the music of a non-tinkling cash register.