Knocky Parker: Legendary Pianist
Part IV

By Bill Mitchell

(This is the fourth installment of a 1977 interview with Dr. John "Knocky" Parker, the Texas farm boy who grew up to play first with western string bands and then went on to play ragtime and blues piano both as soloist and band member. He was widely recorded. His day gig was college teaching as a professor of English.)

Knocky: You may have noticed, especially on the hand-played piano rolls of Scott Joplin, that the rolls and the music don't always correspond?

B: Yes, I've noticed that, yeah...

K: And people argue about whether they should take it ad-lib or put a hold on some note or something the way "Solace" orchestration is. Should they hold that note or should they take some ad lib? What's your opinion on ad lib tempos? Say with Joseph Lamb?

B: Well, I really like a strict tempo...

K: I do too, but if somebody wants to change it, I'm not going to argue, or slap him down, or say "That's no good," but the critics do that and they kill it and they harm performers. I have seen them do this.

B: Uh huh, they really inhibit their performance.

K: Of course they do, and they'll end up killing the whole thing.

B: Now the other day you mentioned that you were a little bit pessimistic about the future of ragtime. Is this the reason for that?

K: Oh, I'm not pessimistic about the future; it will survive because it has survived, and it will once again be rediscovered in another seventy-five years. Once a work is in museum permanence, it can be and always will be, because it's there and can be rediscovered and revived, no matter how many distortions come in the intervening periods of time. And I'm sure we will have the word "pure" ragtime, or the word "classic" ragtime has many connotations and I think this is good, and because it does it will continue to survive and continue to fade away and continue to be rediscovered. Oh, I was pessimistic because I think there is a fade-away right now, do you agree?

B: 'Well, of course I haven't seen it in Los Angeles, because of the Maple Leaf Club.

K: Well, believe me, the Maple Leaf Club is unusual and unique. St. Louis has nothing close to the foundations as the Maple Leaf Club, and I don't think any other place does either.

B: But of course the tremendous popularity of Scott Joplin couldn't possibly outlast "The Sting" and the aftermath of "The Sting," because that's just phenomenal. Thanks to it, many people are conscious of Scott Joplin now, and I think that's going to continue, don't you?

K: Yes, I do, and I think somehow the exploitation of Bill Russell's New Orleans collection, "Red Book" and "Blue Book of Rags" has something to do with that, too. And I think now that these have been published and are in the hands of students, that you will hear more and more. Violins, tuba, piccolo, clarinet, oboe, strings; all kinds of ensembles playing these things and they will lend themselves to more intimate variations. And endless variation, that might be the key for the continuance of it. But really, the ragtime, and I talk about liberties with it and defending the right for it, but where does this go? Where do you stop with the liberties? How many long arpeggios do you omit from "Maple Leaf Rag"? You see, beginning with Art Tatum, arpeggios from treble to bass and back again. How many "Ripples of the Nile" are you going to allow in James Scott's "Grace and Beauty Rag"?

B: Have you heard the Mary Lou Williams version of "Pine Apple Rag"?

K: No, is it swing?

B: It's not ragtime, it's swing...

K: Well that's what she plays, so accept that as swing...an excellent swing interpretation and let it go at that, and don't make her play "Pine Apple Rag" the way someone else plays it because that's Mary Lou Williams. James P's versions of "Maple Leaf" were always interesting, always different from their connotations because he is a Harlem ragtime-back-and-forth-in-the-bass stride pianist. Marvelous stride pianist and so we have a little "Maple Leaf Rag Stride." Why not?

B: Since you brought up his name, did you know James P. Johnson?

K: Yes! Yes, very, very well. We two, for many, many occasions worked together at Bob Moss's concerts in New York. And, of the two of us, week after week, month after month, played together there and were good, good buddies. And the pianos were horrible, sometimes as many as ten or twelve keys gone of the 88. We were playing on 68 or 72 and it got to be so bad on one piano—terrible! I would reach up there and grab a handful of hammers and throw them down to the audience, hoping it got so bad that by the time I removed about five or six more they would be compelled to replace the piano. And James P. was always happy, you know, it was a chance of getting another instrument brought in, and this old thing had had it! But it was marvelous to hear James P;. go up there and attack that piano that I know, dammit, was only playing on 72 and he was making...he sounds like a dream world when he was playing, fantastic, you couldn't imagine what he could do. Well yes, you would, but an ordinary person would wonder.

B: I heard him only once. He gave a concert in 1952 over at the Pasadena Civic Auditorium. It was the Lu Watters Band, and then at intermission they had a trio of James P., Zutty Singleton, and Albert Nicholas. Nice little trio!

K: Yes, James P. was supposed not to drink, and his son was there along with him to see that James P. didn't drink. But the very first thing when the evening started, the son would get drunk, and that was it, you know, because he'd be the drunkest of them all. And poor old James P. would drink. I never saw him drink too much, but it was bad for his health for him to drink anything at all. I'm sure that's true, you know, it was injurious. He was on his last days. But he was a phenomenal virtuoso, a flawless technician and a superb artist.

B: He was a rather self-effacing type, I gather...

K: Yes, he was, but he just played that piano for all it was worth.

B: Did you meet Fats Waller?

K: Yes, I did. I did not get to know Fats Waller; I got to know James P. thoroughly. Fats Waller I didn't get to know, I met him. I always admired him. James P. did too.

B: Oh yes, they were pretty close weren't they?

K: Oh, certainly. Certainly. He always gave deference to James P.

B: Did you know Willie "The Lion" Smith?

K: Yes, I was never friends with Willie "The Lion," for some reason or other. I don't know what it was. He played programs always for Harry, the guy at Commodore, do you know his last name? Harry...a very good friend of mine...

B: Do you mean Milt Gabler?

K: Harry Gabler yeah, Milt Gabler. For with Milt Gabler was a Harry something-or-other whose name was something else, but he was always there with him, and he ran the other in competition with Bob Moss, and Willie "The Lion" Smith and Dick Wellstood were his pianists. Whereas James P. Johnson and myself were Bob Moss's and they were in competition.

B: I don't suppose you knew Jelly Roll Morton, did you?

K: No.

B: Although he was still around in the 1930s, wasn't he?

K: Yes. I just missed him.

B: According to Leonard Feather's "Encyclopedia of Jazz," Morton's your favorite pianist...at least at that time.

K: Well, see, I guess he would have to be the greatest pianist. Favorite? Yes, I guess he is. I would say, yes! He is the greatest. Who is your favorite? Who would you say is the greatest? What would you say to that question?

B: Well, I would say...I would think Tatum would have to be called the greatest. But my favorite? I can't think of many more pianists that I enjoy more than I do Tatum.

K: Yes, I understand...

« Part III — Part V »


News articles about our Club

Advertise with us

Subscribe to Our Newsletter

Click to Sign our Guestbook

Browse Happy logo

Get Firefox