Louis Armstrong has long occupied a difficult place in jazz history. Unquestionably one of the music’s leading architects, he presented, as his life and career advanced, a public image that was increasingly at odds with the images of most jazz musicians and often, with the times themselves. For this reason, his later work is usually dismissed as not only inferior to his groundbreaking recordings with the Hot Fives and Hot Sevens, but his very image is seen as a culturally inappropriate reminder of the time not long ago in this nation’s history when to be a black entertainer meant presenting a palatable image to predominantly white audiences. There has always been evidence that Armstrong felt strongly about the issue of racial inequality in America in the form of some writing, conversations he had with various friends, neighbors, and fellow musicians, and, most publicly, his comments on the Little Rock school case. However, recent cataloging of over 600 reel-to-reel tapes in the Louis Armstrong Archives has shown that privately he was much angrier about racial injustice than he ever allowed his public to know.

Armstrong’s musical talents have never been in question. His role in moving jazz music from its contrapuntal ensemble roots in New Orleans to a music dominated by talented solo performers is well documented. So is his considerable influence on every generation of jazz trumpeters that succeeded him, from Dizzy Gillespie, Miles Davis, and Freddie Hubbard to Wynton Marsalis and Nicholas Payton. Though he was no longer breaking new ground by the end of the 1930s, his recordings and live performances with the Louis Armstrong All-Stars gave audiences a chance to hear the closest possible thing to the performances of legendary jazz groups of the 1920s and before. The fact that Louis didn’t play swing in the 30s nor bop in the 40s did little to diminish his popularity or harm his career. Even when jazz was no longer a vital force in the recording industry, Armstrong managed to score a number one single with his rendition of “Hello Dolly”, displacing the Beatles from the top of the charts for that week. But this very same popularity cost Armstrong much personal respect in the jazz community and damaged his image with politically outspoken blacks in the 1950s and 1960. To understand the divide that opened between he public and private Louis Armstrong, as well as that between Armstrong and subsequent generations of jazz artists, it is necessary to examine his background and the changes in jazz music and American society that took place during his lengthy career.

Armstrong grew up in New Orleans’ fabled Storyville section and lived, by all accounts, in conditions of extreme poverty. His diet consisted primarily of red beans, rice, okra, and the occasional scrap of meat. He often went barefoot, owning few clothes. He saw, from an early age, prostitution, drunkenness, and drug addiction. In addition, Louis’ father was fairly non-existent in his life, as he later wrote: “My father did not have time to teach me anything; he was too busy chasing chippies.” Even a cursory examination of Louis’ life and career show that he was hungry for acceptance and eager to please, and that he searched for a mentor who could substitute for his absent father. He found several in the course of his life, but none was as truly influential as Joe “King” Oliver. Oliver took an interest in Armstrong and showed him some of the basics of cornet technique. Oliver’s main contribution to Louis’ development, though, was his interest in Louis both as a musician and as a person. Oliver invited Louis to join his group in Chicago, thus launching one of the most fruitful periods of Armstrong’s career. When the opportunity to play in Fletcher Henderson’s band in New York opened up, Oliver released Louis to go play with Henderson, never standing in his way.

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