Editing Bix Beiderbecke (section)

===Whiteman===

The Paul Whiteman Orchestra was the most popular and highest paid dance band of the day. In spite of Whiteman's appellation "The King of Jazz", his band was not a jazz ensemble as such, but a popular music outfit that drew from both jazz and classical music repertoires, according to the demands of its record-buying and concert-going audience. Whiteman was perhaps best known for having premiered [[George Gershwin]]'s ''[[Rhapsody in Blue]]'' in New York in 1924, and the orchestrator of that piece, [[Ferde Grofé]], continued to be an important part of the band throughout the 1920s. Whiteman was large physically and important culturally —"a man flabby, virile, quick, coarse, untidy and sleek, with a hard core of shrewdness in an envelope of sentimentalism", according to a 1926 ''New Yorker'' profile.{{efn-ua|Quoted in Sudhalter, ''Lost Chords''{{sfn|Sudhalter|1999|page=423}}}} A number of Beiderbecke partisans have criticised Whiteman for not giving Bix the opportunities he deserved as a jazz musician.{{efn-ua|Sudhalter, in ''Lost Chords'', writes of Whiteman as having been cast "a villain" in the Beiderbecke story.{{sfn|Sudhalter|1999|pages=423–424}}{{sfn|James|1959|pages=18–19}}}} James complains that, after Beiderbecke joined the band, "Whiteman moved farther and farther away from the easy-going, rhythmically inclined style of his earlier days", becoming "more subservient to his business sense". He goes on to suggest that this artistically compromised Beiderbecke, in part causing his death.{{sfn|James|1959|pages=77}}

Benny Green, in particular, derided Whiteman for being a mere "mediocre vaudeville act", and suggesting that "today we only tolerate the horrors of Whiteman's recordings at all in the hope that here and there a Bixian fragment will redeem the mess."{{efn-ua|Green;{{sfn|Green|1991|page=38}} also quoted in Sudhalter, ''Lost Chords''{{sfn|Sudhalter|1999|page=423}}}} Richard Sudhalter has responded by suggesting that Beiderbecke saw the Whiteman band as an opportunity to pursue musical ambitions that did not stop at jazz:

<blockquote>Colleagues have testified that, far from feeling bound or stifled by the Whiteman orchestra, as Green and others have suggested, Bix often felt a sense of exhilaration. It was like attending a music school, learning and broadening: formal music, especially the synthesis of the American vernacular idiom with a more classical orientation, so much sought-after in the 1920s, were calling out to him.{{sfn|Sudhalter|1999|page=423}}</blockquote>

Beiderbecke is featured on a number of Whiteman recordings, including "From Monday On", "[[Back in Your Own Backyard|Back In Your Own Back Yard]]", "[[You Took Advantage of Me|You Took Advantage Of Me]]", "Sugar", "Changes" and "When". These feature specially written arrangements that emphasize Beiderbecke's improvisational skills. Bill Challis, an arranger who had also worked in this capacity for Jean Goldkette, was particularly sympathetic in writing scores with Beiderbecke in mind, sometimes arranging entire ensemble passages based on solos that Bix played.{{sfn|Sudhalter|Evans|Dean-Myatt|1974|page=235}} Beiderbecke also played on several notable hit records recorded by Whiteman, such as "[[Together (1928 song)|Together]]", "[[Ramona (1928 song)|Ramona]]" and "[[Ol' Man River]]", the latter featuring [[Bing Crosby]] on vocals.

The heavy touring and recording schedule with Whiteman's orchestra may have exacerbated Beiderbecke's long-term alcoholism, though this is a contentious point. Whiteman's violinist Matty Malneck said "The work was so hard, you almost had to drink"{{efn-ua|Bix: 'Ain't None of Them Play Like Him Yet' (1981), film documentary, directed and produced by Brigitte Berman.}} adding "He didn't get to play the things he loved with the Whiteman band because we were a [[concert band|symphonic band]] and we played the same thing every night, and it got to be tiresome."

On November 30, 1928, whilst on tour in Cleveland, Beiderbecke suffered what Lion terms "a severe nervous crisis" and Sudhalter and Evans suggest "was in all probability an acute attack of [[delirium tremens]]", presumably triggered by Beiderbecke's attempt to curb his alcohol intake.{{sfn|Lion|2005|page=203}}{{sfn|Sudhalter|Evans|Dean-Myatt|1974|page=264}} "He cracked up, that's all", trombonist Bill Rank said. "Just went to pieces; broke up a roomful of furniture in the hotel."{{sfn|Sudhalter|Evans|Dean-Myatt|1974|page=264}}

In February 1929, Beiderbecke returned home to Davenport to convalesce and was hailed by the local press as "the world's hottest cornetist".<ref>"Bix Beiderbecke" in ''Davenport Sunday Democrat'', February 10, 1929; see Lion, p. 209.</ref> He then spent the summer with Whiteman's band in Hollywood in preparation for the shooting of a new talking picture, ''[[The King of Jazz]]''. Production delays prevented any real work from being done on the film, leaving Beiderbecke and his pals plenty of time to drink heavily. By September, he was back in Davenport, where his parents helped him to seek treatment. He spent a month, from October 14 until November 18, at the [[Keeley Institute]] in Dwight, Illinois.{{sfn|Lion|2005|pages=230–234}} According to Lion, an examination by Keeley physicians confirmed the damaging effects of Bix's long-term reliance on alcohol: "Bix admitted to having used liquor 'in excess' for the past nine years, his daily dose over the last three years amounting to three pints of 'whiskey' and twenty cigarettes.....A Hepatic dullness was obvious, 'knee jerk could not be obtained' – which confirmed the spread of the polyneuritis, and Bix was 'swaying in Romberg position' – standing up with his eyes closed".{{sfn|Lion|2005|page=233}}

While he was away, Whiteman famously kept his chair open in Beiderbecke's honor, in the hope that he would occupy it again. However, when he returned to New York at the end of January 1930, Beiderbecke did not rejoin Whiteman and performed only sparingly. On his last recording session, in New York, on September 15, 1930, Beiderbecke played on the original recording of Hoagy Carmichael's new song, "[[Georgia on My Mind]]", with Carmichael doing the vocals, [[Eddie Lang]] on guitar, [[Joe Venuti]] on violin, [[Jimmy Dorsey]] on clarinet and alto saxophone, [[Jack Teagarden]] on trombone, and [[Bud Freeman]] on tenor saxophone. The song would go on to become a jazz and [[Traditional pop|popular music standard]]. In 2014, the 1930 recording of "Georgia on My Mind" was inducted into the [[Grammy Hall of Fame]].<ref name="Grammy" />

Beiderbecke's playing had an influence on Carmichael as a composer. One of his compositions, "[[Stardust (1927 song)|Stardust]]", was inspired by Beiderbecke's improvisations, with a cornet phrase reworked by Carmichael into the song's central theme.{{efn-ua|In his Carmichael biography, Sudhalter actually charts the similarities between recorded Beiderbecke solos in "Singin' the Blues", "Jazz Me Blues", and "Star Dust", writing: "The high spot of 'Star Dust's' first recorded performance is Hoagy's own full-chorus piano solo, its chordal devices clearly echoing Bix's fascination with the Impressionists and such 'moderns' as Igor Stravinsky—and his admiration for the now almost forgotten American composer Eastwood Lane."{{sfn|Sudhalter|2002|pages=108–110}}}} Bing Crosby, who sang with Whiteman, also cited Beiderbecke as an important influence. "Bix and all the rest would play and exchange ideas on the piano", he said.

<blockquote>With all the noise [of a New York pub] going on, I don't know how they heard themselves, but they did. I didn't contribute anything, but I listened and learned […] I was now being influenced by these musicians, particularly horn men. I could hum and sing all of the jazz choruses from the recordings made by Bix, Phil Napoleon, and the rest.{{sfn|Lion|2005|page=177}}</blockquote>

Following the [[Wall Street Crash of 1929]], the once-booming music industry contracted and work became more difficult to find. For a while, Beiderbecke's only regular income came from his work as a member of Nat Shilkret's orchestra on ''The Camel Pleasure Hour'' NBC radio show. However, during a live broadcast on October 8, 1930, Beiderbecke's seemingly limitless gift for improvisation finally failed him: "He stood up to take his solo, but his mind went blank and nothing happened", recalled a fellow musician, Frankie Cush.{{sfn|Lion|2005|page=256}} The cornetist spent the rest of the year at home in Davenport and then, in February 1931, he returned to New York one last time.