By Jim Gallert with Lars Bjorn
Alma Smith was a professional musician for seventy-plus years. The youngest of nine children, Mary Alma Smith[1] was born in Montgomery, Alabama on May 15, 1922, to Harry and Mary E. Smith, and raised in the North End area of Detroit. Alma’s fascination with music started early. Her mother had played piano as a youngster and she encouraged all of her children to play an instrument. Alma’s keyboard prowess was obvious to her mother. All the Smith children received piano lessons, and the girls took ballet lessons too.
“My brother played very good boogie-woogie, but he died young,” she recalled. “And my sister could play. But I was the one that made music my livelihood.”
The South, especially the rural South, was a tough scuffle for people of color. As the United States entered the twentieth century, people of color living in the Southern U.S., grew more dissatisfied with their living conditions. They looked north. Northern industrial cities were strictly segregated, but most offered a degree of freedom not possible down South. On January 1, 1914, Henry Ford’s announcement of “five dollars per day pay,” helped trigger the “Great Migration” and brought massive numbers of folks to Detroit. Not only from the American South, from around the World. Ford’s invitation was extended to Black men, too. Once America entered World War I late in 1917, wartime production demands created thousands more jobs. Chicago, Detroit, and many other Northern ‘burgs swelled with new arrivals. Of course, people left the South for a variety of reasons. Alma’s dad, Harry, was a successful businessman. Harry became too prosperous which got him ‘noticed’ by the White side of Montgomery.
“My dad owned the Montgomery Gray Sox, a baseball team. He was tagged as ‘uppity’ by some White men, and he had to leave.” The Gray Sox were in the Negro Southern League, and attracted a racially mixed audience – seated in separate sections, of course. Her family relocated to Detroit around 1925.
Harry got a job working at Dodge Main in Hamtramck. After moving house once, they settled in a two story house on E. Philadelphia Street in in Detroit’s North End. When the 1940 U.S. Federal Census taker visited their residence, Alma, then seventeen years of age, gave her occupation as “piano player.” She was working with a W.P.A. (Works Progress Administration) Music Project.[2]
Alma went to Cass Technical High School[3] as a music major, and honed her dancing skills by taking private lessons from Detroit dancer La Claire Knox. Smith graduated early from Cass; she was only sixteen. “It wasn’t that I was smart,” she chuckled. “I was the baby out of nine (kids) and some of my sisters and brothers had gone to Cass, so they paved the way for me.” “Of course, I wasn’t thinking of becoming a jazz musician then. I stumbled into the music business, I thought possibly I’d become a teacher or something like that. My whole career has just fallen in my lap. I would always play the piano and people would come get me.” It’s not quite that simple. Alma was a brilliant pianist. Her singing was nearly as good. It’s not surprising she would attract attention. She was offered a musical scholarship to West Virginia State University, but her mother would not allow her to accept, Mary felt Alma was too young to be away from home, even if she was musically mature! Instead, she had two years instruction on clarinet and Hammond organ at the Detroit Institute of Music. Alma was a ‘natural’ musician and could play any instrument she touched. As a student, she was torn between her twin passions, Jazz and dance, and involved herself in the city’s flourishing dance community, as she recalled.
“I appeared in ‘Carmen’ and ‘Aida’ at the Detroit Institute of Arts with the Black Opera Guild. I also played piano after school in a band called King’s Aces.”
King’s Aces was assembled and subsidized by a local businessman known to the musicians only as Mr. King, who did not play any instrument but would “conduct” the band waving a baton. Smith was about sixteen when she played with King’s band. At different times, the band featured Lucky Thompson, Julius Watkins on French Horn, and pianist Willie Anderson (who Alma Smith replaced). She recalled the band, “playing ballrooms on Woodward, playing for kids. Nothing but babies in that band. The musicians came from all over town.”
Alma tried to play like Errol Garner, Art Tatum, Fats Waller, and Nat Cole (all of whom she heard in person). While a young teen, she took lessons from Milt Buckner. “He taught me how to build my first triads,” she said. “How to play locked-hands style.” Buckner told Smith her hands were “too small for a pianist.” Insulted, Alma considered stopping the lessons, but she thought Buckner “was an excellent teacher,” as she told Jazz writer Larry Gabriel,[4] so she stayed with him.
Detroit had more bands than trios in the 1930s. Once microphones came into general use, Jazz trios were modeled after Cole’s[5] group (piano-bass-guitar) and sported a similar repertoire, with blues, ballads, novelty songs and Jazz standards.
One such group was the Evans-Faire Trio, an up-and-coming band comprising guitarist John Faire, bassist Curtis Wilder (brother of trumpeter Joe), and pianist Reuben Evans. The trio started as the Evans-Fair Duo, booked by Del Delbridge and Ray Gorrell, longtime proprietors of Detroit’s Delbridge-Gorrell Agency. Reuben lost his hearing and Johnny needed a replacement, and Alma sounded good. He decided to up the ante and add a bassist. That put them on equal footing with Nat Cole’s trio. In addition to the novelty aspect of a mixed gender trio, Curt and Johnny figured they wouldn’t have to buy band uniforms for Alma, and they were correct, as her mother and sisters bought her “beautiful evening gowns” to wear.
The musicians changed the trio’s name to the Counts And Countess, and they continued with Delbridge & Gorrell as managers. Alma convinced her mother to let her go ‘on the road. Smith was twenty-one, but Mary kept a firm grip on her children, and, in late 1944 or early 1945 the band set off to Cleveland, where they had the daunting task of following Art Tatum’s trio in a club engagement. They did O.K., and the Counts And Countess worked their way west to California, where they stayed for the next three years.
Alma’s talent blossomed with the group. Her charm and good looks helped put the band over with audiences. She was ready for the big time!
“I played piano and vibes and did a little singing—very little singing, ‘cause I was kind of shy,” she said. Alma also wrote material, including I’m A Barfly Baby, I’ve Got A Man, and Everybody’s Got Somebody, But Where Is The One For Me?.
Alma took up the Vibraphone during her L.A. stint, and made an impact, especially on Flying Home, generating enough swing during one theater job to stop the show. “Someone in the audience yelled, ‘Lionel Hampton, take off that dress!’ she laughed.” This was a story she often repeated.
L.A. had many lounges and ‘cocktail rooms’ during the 1940s and work was plentiful, especially for a band built around the sound of local favorite Nat Cole. The Counts and Countess played lounge jobs for three month stints. Smith was able to hear Erroll Garner and Art Tatum. She was awed by Tatum. “I’ve always felt he was the greatest pianist that ever lived. He was real fast, he would do on one hand what other people couldn’t do with two!” [6] While at the Stardust Lounge (there were many Lounges using that name), they alternated sets with a young Charles Mingus. She worked in trumpeter Gerald Wilson’s orchestra, too. “I worked with him for one week, my greatest thrill.”
The Counts And Countess clicked on the coast, and played the best “white lounges” and theaters. They recorded for two Los Angeles record labels (Melodisc and Urban), and made three Soundies. This was an opportunity not available in Detroit, which in 1945 had no Record labels, and no film products. The Counts and Countess caught a break, as L.A. was the seat of American cinema, and had numerous small record labels, too. They were special, and two record companies sought their services, proof that Counts and Countess were embedded in the local music scene, and doing good business. One of their records was reviewed in Metronome in 1945 :
Rip Up the Joint and Ride Red Ride, (Melodisc) both get B+ “Of the recent crop of King Cole copying trios, they’re one of the best. Pianist and guitarist quite outstanding both in solo work and joint riffing….Tunes are trite. But the performances first-rate.”
One night, “this man came over and listened to my vibraharp, and he said ‘Hey Cutie, don’t you want to hang with me?’ So, we would socialize between sets. So, after a couple of weeks I said, ‘what are you doing out in Hollywood my man?’ He says, ‘I play the piano, I am Errol Garner’… I was too stupid to know who he was!”
Smith had one ugly incident at the Stardust that she turned into a learning experience, as she related to Lars. “They had a beautiful powder room. I am sitting in the powder room, and this girl, Gladys, came in. I said, ‘take my seat.’ When I got up, I accidentally touched this lady (customer) and she screamed at me. I said, I’m sorry, Ma’am I didn’t mean to bump you. She kept screaming. I said I have apologized like a lady there is nothing else I can do. She told me: I do not accept apologies from N******! Being young, I slapped her.” That cost the Counts and Countess their job. “I worked for that man (the owner) for over a year, and I got my notice on Saturday. That was a lesson: I learned how to whip people with my mind. I also learned you can say anything if you smile!”
Despite their success, Los Angeles lost its sheen after a few years. Alma got homesick and yearned for the Midwest, and her family. Her decision to leave finished the band. Smith returned to Detroit, as did Faire, who worked as a studio musician for Cincinnati’s King Records. Wilder isn’t mentioned in subsequent Detroit bands, so he may have remained in L.A., which was then enjoying a heavy concentration of Jazz Masters.
After she returned, Alma began gigging as a single, a new challenge, but she quickly got her bearings. Her easy manner and pleasant singing voice made her an unqualified success, and her swinging piano always attracted jazz devotees. Alma offered something for everyone when she played, a philosophy she knew would keep her working.
Alma worked as both sideman (or, sideperson, maybe?) and leader. She spent October-December 1948 at the Parrot Lounge[7] in a quartet led by ex-Basie reedman Rudy Rutherford. “The Parrot was a storefront place. It was not posh.” she stated. Smith was used to getting “California money,” and Rutherford paid quite a bit less. “I told Rudy, ‘I am not used to working for money like that.’ So, I told Al Green (Bar Owner/Manager), ‘I like working here, but this is not enough money.’ He said, ‘you just let Rudy pay you and then stop by (my office) and get the rest of your real pay.’
By 1948, BeBop had matured. Like many young musicians, Alma took to bebop upon first hearing, and when Dizzy Gillespie’s orchestra was in town once, tenor man Lucky Thompson carried her to rehearsals (he was interested in Alma as well as her music). “I loved Dizzy Gillespie and Charlie Parker,” she said. “But I was not in the arena to play that kind of music.” [8]
Women in Jazz often had the gender burden to bear. Alma wouldn’t tolerate a lack of respect and she expected professionalism. If there was difficulty with a member of her band, Smith would warn the musician, or simply not use them again. She was a responsible leader who treated her musicians fairly.
Comparing formats, Smith preferred working with a band. It differs in critical ways from working as a single, as she told Gabriel.
“I like working with the group because it requires discipline and the one thing I like and I appreciate my musician brothers for —if they see me going in the wrong direction, they will pull my coat and I appreciate that, because the only way you can grow is to learn. And as long as I keep learning, I’m happy.”[9]
Alma was pretty as well as talented, and she caught the eye of several musicians who wanted to “make beautiful music” with her as Mr. and Mrs. She finally said “yes” to bassist Paul Foster Jr., longtime member of pianist Willie Anderson’s trio. They wed in August, 1950. Alma and Paul were divorced after eleven years, but the two remained friends. Alma kept “Foster” as part of her name. Alma had good intuition about men, and any man she was involved with was a gentle man, a musician, and avoided excess alcohol. Smith never smoked or drank, a habit her mom infused into her early in life.
Alma got a job offer from Eddie “Lockjaw” Davis who heard her in Detroit in the early 1960s. He dug her piano style and had an engagement in Cleveland, Ohio. Jaws wanted Smith on the gig, but he wanted her to play the Hammond B-3. She made the engagement on a rented B-3, and after that gig she secured bookings in Cleveland as a single, on piano. She decided to remain in Cleveland. It became her base of operations and she stayed for a few years. She liked Cleveland and felt comfortable with the music and social mix. She soon formed her own trio. She also bought a B-3 of her own and hit the woodshed, so that in three months “I had some of the best organ jobs in Cleveland.” Alma didn’t often play her B-3 or her vibes in later years due to their sheer weight. Had she chosen, she could have made either her instrument of choice.
Cleveland is 175 miles East of Detroit, a 3-4 hour trip by auto. Alma kept in touch with her family and had several visits. She moved back to Detroit in 1964, and resumed work as a single, chiefly at upscale hotel lounges. She tailored her sets to create a mood. When she was successful, Alma would blend in a couple of her originals, possibly a love song.
The next twenty years were busy for Alma Smith. She worked in the Detroit Public School System from 1972-87. She served as a pianist jack-of-all-trades (accompanist/instructor/performer), a job requires great flexibility and a love of children. While many musicians prefer to focus on their own music, Smith counted herself lucky to get the job, which offered health benefits and a pension. “I’m a practical person,” she explained. “I’d rather be somewhere playing music than standing on my feet at Hudson’s all day.”
Smith’s evenings were busy, too. She had a steady engagement at the Rhinoceros Club[10] for fifteen years (1979-1994). The Rhino was the perfect venue for Alma. It was a classy piano bar. The actual bar looped around the piano, and Smith could converse with her customers and play their requests, as they sipped cocktails and nibbled salty tidbits. Smith created a special mood, and the tip jar was full at the end of each night. She occasionally sent in a sub, but the replacement never had the musical magic of Ms. Smith. Clad in evening attire, Alma played her way through three sets, gauging the crowd’s emotional temperature, setting a mood. She would slip in one or two originals; those always garnered fresh applause. Alma composed dozens of numbers and her repertoire seldom got stale. She would sometimes answer a request for Five Salted Peanuts or a similar novelty from earlier days.
Alma got great satisfaction from helping youngsters develop as musicians. Bassist and Pedagogue Rodney Whitaker got some early experience playing in Alma’s trio. “Miss Smith knows a million Standards,“ he said.[11] Alma joined saxophonist Vincent York’s Jazzistry group, which presents a mini history of Jazz in area schools. She whizzed her way through eighty years of piano in twenty minutes!
Alma worked diligently to maintain a presence on the jazz scene, too. Her trio (Bert Myrick, drums and Will Austin, bass) held down the Tuesday night spot regularly at Baker’s Keyboard Lounge, regularly delighting women in the audience with her rendition of Wild Women Don’t Get The Blues. She had a personal way with the blues which numbers like Wild Women… put on display. Alma gave talks on Jazz history at local colleges. She appeared at the Detroit Jazz Festival regularly with her quintet. Alma was part of S.E.M.J.A.’s youth education initiative, too.[12] This was held on-site at the Detroit Jazz Festival in the Jazz Talk Tent. Smith accompanied vocalist Kate Patterson during the 1990’s at the Whitney Restaurant on Woodward Avenue in Detroit. She enjoyed playing for Kate.
In 1992, she began a 15 year engagement at Sweet Lorraine’s Southfield restaurant, (with Will Austin or John Dana handling bass chores), where the sound of her piano complemented the interesting fare. Tuesday was ‘piano night’ at the eatery, and Smith alternated weeks with Johnny Allen. Alma also played each year at the Michigan Jazz Festival, sometimes on the Solo Piano stage. She always maintained her membership in A.F.M. Local 5, and would shake her head when talking about musicians who stopped paying their dues and then expected the Union to help them find work.
As she eased into her eighties, Alma had trouble driving, most often at night. A devoted nephew drove her to gigs, but she became forgetful and her fingers began to fail her. When Bert Myrick[13], her longtime friend and lover, passed in 2010, it affected her deeply. Her Nephew and a cousin stepped up and helped with shopping, cleaning, and Doctor appointments. Alma got to a point where she was confused and needed full-time care. She ended up in a nursing home, where her decline continued. The staff had a nice birthday party for Alma, which she enjoyed. They also played her cassettes or CD’s too, and the music cheered the residents.
Regardless of her mental state, Alma knew she was performing somewhere every night, she was just waiting for her ride.
Alma Smith kept her sense of humor and upbeat outlook on life. She always had plans and was open to opportunities. Alma was among the last of her generation of Detroit musicians, an elegant pianist with awesome ‘chops’ and a strong lyrical approach to material. Alma told a story when she played, and her stories were often captivating.
Her personal philosophy is summed up in one of her many compositions, Time Won’t Stop And Change Keeps On Coming, the essence of which is: Trust your feelings, believe in yourself, take advantage of your opportunities.
Mary (Alma) Foster Smith died Sunday, May 6, 2012. Her music remains in the eternal mist. Alma leaves behind many friends and admirers. We will remember her smile, her warmth, and her amazing music.
Endnotes
- 1 1940 Federal census data list Alma as “Mary E. Smith,” but Alma always referred to herself (formally) as Mary Alma Smith.
- 2 President Roosevelt created the W.P.A. to put Americans back to work. He included musicians, writers, and visual artists in the W.P.A. Detroit’s LeRoy Smith led a WPA band.
- 3 Students were not assigned to Cass Tech. Cass Tech was populated by students who were nominated from another Detroit High School. Cass focused on the Arts.
- 4 Community Jazz History Interview, December 28, 1989. Courtesy Detroit Sound Conservancy. Gabriel is a part of the New Orleans Gabriels; his father is bassist Percy. Larry plays banjo in N.O. bands.
- 5 Pianists were able to use P-B-G format once microphones became commonplace.
- 6 Community Jazz History Interview, ibid.
- 7 Parrot Lounge, 504 E. Canfield
- 8 Gillespie’s Ork played Detroit’s Paradise Theater in 1945 & 1946.
- 9 Community Jazz History Interview, ibid.
- 10 Rhinoceros Club was at, 265 N. Riopelle
- 11 Rodney Whitaker interview by Jim Gallert, 1995.
- 12 South East Michigan Jazz Association. Lars is the current President, in reality he’s carried the organization for many years.
- 13 Bert was one of pianist Barry D. Harris’ colleagues.
Here’s a link to the Vocal Group Harmony website where you can hear the Counts And Countess: http://www.vocalgroupharmony.com/RideRed2.htm
Check out Larry Gabriel’s great interview with Alma Smith on the Detroit Sound Conservancy website: http://detroitsound.org/artifact/alma-smith/
