#but I really hope the new Charlie bio goes into Dave Tough

[waugh-bao]

@charliesmydarling​ The jazz drummer in question is Dave Tough (1907-47). He was an early swing/jazz drummer, and also one of Charlie’s biggest heroes. They’re remarkably similar in appearance and personality, actually. 

Tough grew up well educated, but eschewed the professional life his father wanted for him to become a musician. He was born in Chicago, and spent a lot of his early life listening to African-American bands (as well as brining others to Lincoln Gardens to do the same), eventually he became a founding member of the Austin City High School Gang and one of the most prodigious drummers of his generation, though he never willingly took a solo. Even as a teenager, he was so good that Louis Armstrong used to stop by the White City Ballroom a few times every week to hear him play. 

Eventually, he moved to New York to try to make it in the big leagues, and, later in the ‘20s, he traveled to Europe, and found a lot of success in Paris. However, he was also epileptic, and at that time some doctors believed that alcohol was a cure for that disorder, so he developed a drinking problem. Right before the Great Depression, he came back to the US, and bounced for a few years between NYC and Chicago, sometimes playing the drums and sometimes essentially living on the street because he was getting drunk so often he couldn’t work. By 1935, he’d gotten himself somewhat together, and he worked in a variety of famous big bands, including those of Benny Goodman, Tommy Dorsey, Jack Teagarden, etc. 

During WWII, he was in Artie Shaw’s Naval Band, and after that came his apogee. He joined Woody Herman’s First Herd (1945-6), and had his period of greatest professional success and recognition, becoming the first drummer to win the Down Beat, Metronome, and Esquire polls all in one year. But his alcoholism forced him to leave the band, and began drifting around to work occasionally with old friends. In December of 1947, he slipped on an icy sidewalk in Newark, New Jersey and died, aged 41.

Tough is fascinating as a drummer, but also as a human being. He was a talented writer, who worked on a novel (as of yet still unfound) through his life, published a book of poetry so good it was praised by Kenneth Rexroth 40 years later, and wrote music criticism and advice columns for Metronome. In the same vein, he was very interested in, and knowledgeable about, art, literature, linguistics, etc. But he felt that he was an awful writer and an even worse drummer. Those close to him remembered him as a thin, quiet, hilarious little man (about 5’6” and 98 lbs) who always had a book and never had a kind word for himself. A lot of them thought his self-hatred was the root cause of his alcoholism, and why he eventually drank himself to death. 

No-one else saw Tough the way he saw himself, though. He was universally beloved for his extraordinary kindness, and regarded as one of the greatest drummers ever. Woody Herman said, “A giant rhythm player! With the least amount of ‘chops,’ Dave inspired a whole big screamin’ band with his subtleties and strong feeling for time. And he was probably the most gentle, the kindest, one of the grooviest cats you’d ever want to know." Everyone who knew him said the same. Giants of jazz like Dizzy Gillespie, Buddy Rich, Gene Krupa, Lionel Hampton, etc. went on praising him years after his death and the most extraordinary thing you run into reading about him is that basically no-one had a bad thing to say about him. 

Bud Freeman (1906-1991), the saxophonist, became friends with Tough as a kid, and remained probably the closest one he had through his whole life. They were in the Austin City High School Gang together, went to NYC together, worked to find each other positions in Europe, worked together constantly in the ‘30s, etc. After Dave died, Bud, who was a composer and writer in addition to being a musician, made it a mission to ensure that the world didn’t forget his friend. Dave appears constantly in all of his books. 

“Dave started playing drums as a Boy Scout. He was an Eagle Scout and a fantastic drummer at twelve…Even as a young kid, Dave had something very special. He made it easy for those who worked with him. He practically played your instrument for you. When I performed with other drummers, my fingers would lock up because these guys didn't keep good time. Dave's beat was so powerful that my fingers flew over the horn. Dave was a little beyond being a drummer. That was a hell of a deep mind working there. I don't think an ordinary man could play that well. He was just incredible. So strong yet so subtle. He sounded like another note in the band.”

“The great man who was later to lead all the bop drummers in what they thought was a new style.” 

“Dave Tough, who would become the greatest jazz drummer in America, or anywhere…” 

“In my view, he was a Louis Armstrong, a Bix Beiderbecke, a James P. Johnson. A true giant!”

Essentially, he used his second life as a memoirist as a way to help make Tough immortal, and to carry on their longest standing argument after his death, to try to convince Dave that he really was a great musician.  I think the little story he tells about Dave in Crazeology is a beautiful encapsulation of their relationship. 

“He was a very literary person, with expansive interests. That's what had the impact on me. He had a way of looking at things that was helpful to many of us. An example? Dave and I went to take in a Cézanne exhibit in Chicago—we were just kids. And I said to Dave, “Gee, I wish I could say something about this magnificent work.” And Dave looked directly at me and said, “That's the best thing you'll ever say about it.” In other words, all this bullshit that critics have been getting away with for years has nothing to do with how an artist thinks.”