For almost the full time of his association with
Jelly Roll Morton, Walter Melrose was skimming money off the top
by finding ways of obtaining money that should have gone to Morton.
Jelly didn't realize this for some time, because in the mid-1920s
he was flush with money, and he showed it, covering himself with
diamonds that covered his fingers, watch, and his famous front
tooth. He was the Elton John of the roaring 20s.
When Walter Melrose submitted the copyright claims
for Morton's tunes, he added lyrics to the tunes that Jelly had
written. This made him a collaborator and he could claim songwriting
royalties even though he had never written a decent song in his
life. When added to the publishing royalties he already collected
for the sheet music, this amounted to a nice chunk of change.
But that wasn't all. Melrose also arranged the recording contract
for Morton with the Victor Talking Machine Company. The contract,
signed in December of 1926, specified that all monies would be
paid to Melrose Brothers Music rather than to Morton. Morton never
saw or signed a contract for these recordings. As far as Melrose
and Victor were concerned, Morton had no claim on the artist royalties
for some of the greatest recordings in the jazz canon. He was
entitled to composer royalties, but even those were going partially
to Walter Melrose.
In 1927, Morton met dancer Mabel Bertrand and the
two began to see a lot of each other, eventually living together.
Though Morton often referred to her as his wife, the two were
never legally married. Though Morton is remembered as a hustler
and carny, there is some evidence that his newfound fame as a
bandleader and recording artist, together with his infatuation
with Bertrand caused him to change his ways. When he decided to
move to New York in 1928 because the music industry there was
finally catching on to the hot music being played in Chicago,
he took Bertrand with him. But when Morton arrived in New York,
he discovered that he was not popular as he had been in Chicago.
Duke Ellington and Fletcher Henderson, two bandleaders whose sound
and style show quite a bit of Morton's influence, were the popular
bandleaders in New York, and Morton was already regarded as something
of an anachronism. He got a job at the Rose Danceland, a small
club, leading the house band. Over the next few years he recorded
sides for Victor until they dropped him in 1930, played in pick-up
groups, and eventually ended up at the Red Apple Club, a seedy
bar at 7th Ave. and 135th Street. By 1934, Jelly was "seedy
and disillusioned" according to an unimpressed John Hammond,
who saw him at the Red Apple. Morton was seen as a throwback to
another era, and an unsavory one at that. No one would book him
and no record companies, not even Gennett records, wanted to record
him. Yet he knew that his music was being played everywhere. Benny
Goodman recorded a version of "King Porter Stomp" that
was an immense hit, and Fletcher Henderson had also had success
with the tune a couple of years earlier.
In 1935, Morton left New York, moving to Washington,
D.C., supposedly to become a fight promoter, but that didn't work
out, so he returned to piano playing, this time in a small second-floor
club in the black district. He tended bar, seated what customers
there were, and played. Over the next three years, he slowly became
obsessed with obtaining the money he was owed, and the recognition
as well. He realized that the music business had changed, and
that he had somehow been written out of his own success. It was
around this time that Alan Lomax, who worked at the Archive of
Folk Song at the Library
of Congress, heard Morton and persuaded him to record nearly
eight hours of music and interviews between May 23 and June 7,
1938. These recordings were probably never meant to be released,
and indeed many of the songs didn't surface on record releases
of the sessions because of their frankly obscene lyrics. Rounder
Records released the best version around 1993, four seperate CDs
that collect all of the musical performances from the sessions.
Some of Morton's monologues are also included if they are part
of the song, but those that were unacompanied by music are cut
off. This is unfortunate, since Morton's remembrances hold historic
importance, but there is also Lomax's book Mr.
Jelly Lord, which tells Jelly's story utilizing transcripts
from those sessions.
At the end of 1938, Morton decided to head back
to New York, armed with indignation and what was left of his talent.
He was going to make one last effort get back what was owed him,
and show that he was still a relevant musician more than a decade
after his heyday.
