Fact #32297
When:
Short story:
Chess Records releases its first single, My Foolish Heart by saxophonist Gene Ammons, numbered 1425 after the Chess family's address on South Karlov, Chicago, Illinois, USA.
Full article:
Marshall Chess : My father, Leonard Chess, and his brother Phil came to America from
Poland. Chess was spelled with a z then, but was changed to an s on Ellis Island.
My grandfather had already been in Chicago for ten years. Typical case, where he came here by himself to earn money and then send for the family.
My grandfather had a scrap metal junkyard in a ghetto neighborhood in Chicago, so my father's first exposure was to black people. Eventually, my father opened up a liquor store in the ghetto. Then he progressed to a few different taverns. Then, in 1945, he had a club called the Mocambo Lounge. Live entertainment. A big, black nightclub that specialized in jazz music and was a hangout for musicians, whores, and dope dealers.
My father would see live recording equipment being brought in. He began to talk to people, and it didn't take him long before he realized there was a market for race records. Then he met a man named Art Sheridan, and they started Aristocrat Records. One of Aristocrat's first artists was Muddy Waters.
Chicago was the center for Delta musicians. They'd come up from West Arkansas by the hundreds. They came right off the plantations of Mississippi to Chicago. They'd ride up the Illinois Central from Memphis.
My father knew what these people wanted. He knew there was a market for their records. Soon he found out that his partners were cheating him. Within two years he was able to buy them out and change Aristocrat to Chess.
My own experience in the record business began when I was very young. I had a real father hang-up. I never saw my father. He had records during the day and the club at night. He was home very little. I found early that the only way I could see my father was to go to work with him, so I began very young.
I was in the shipping room. I loaded trucks. One time I asked my father what my job was. He got pissed at me and said, "Your job is watching me. "
I went on the road at thirteen. I drove the car for my father in the South. I'd sit on pillows, making those little stops with him. We would go to see the disc jockeys, and we'd have records in the trunk of his car, a '53 Cadillac, two-tone blue, the first car with air conditioning.
We'd go into these little towns and stop at the radio stations. We would see the disc jockey, most of the time pay him off. Sometimes we'd stay in a motel without the disc jockey knowing about it, listening to see if the guy really played the record or if he was pulling one of his tricks.
payola was how you got your records played. It was how you did business. Nowadays it's a whole other kind of sleazy style, but back then it was totally open. "You help me, and I'll help you."
My father developed a way to feel, I think, by osmosis. If he liked it, it usually sold. He definitely knew what black people wanted.
Willie Dixon (Chess recording artist/songwriter/bassist) : The Chess brothers always told me they were gonna start a company and when they did they wanted me to play with them. I thought they was just kidding, but sure enough they called me up. The first thing I did for Chess was playing string bass on a Robert Nighthawk song, Sweet Black Angel. After that I ended up on a whole lot of sessions - Muddy, Little Walter, Wolf, Eddie Boyd, Chuck Berry... really, I was playing bass on most of those records until they came up with the electric bass.
Phil Chess (co-owner, Chess Records) : Willie Dixon used to be a bouncer at the Crown Propellor Lounge on 63rd Street. It was a club, and he was fiddling around with writing stuff, you know. So he came in and he was a good guy, he really was. Always got along good with him. So did Leonard.
(Interview with Mary Katherine Aldin in CD box set The Chess Story, 1947-1975)
Willie Dixon : Leonard Chess called himself the producer but he didn't really know what was going on. He never knew nothing about no music. If you made a record he could tap his foot to, he'd think that was a good record. A lot of times he'd just antagonise people in the studio, swearing at them 'cause he thought that would make them play better. We'd waste a lot of time that way. He was smart latching onto Blues because it made him money, but he never had much of a feel for the music itself and, if he had ideas, he didn't know how to explain them. But after a while he started to listen to me because I'd tell him when I thought a song wasn't going to sell. After one or two of my things went over OK, he began to have confidence in me. He was smart enough to surround himself with guys who knew what they was doing.
Phil Chess (co-owner, Chess Records) : Whenever we had a guy to record, he (Willie Dixon) would go up with them and work with them
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Poland. Chess was spelled with a z then, but was changed to an s on Ellis Island.
My grandfather had already been in Chicago for ten years. Typical case, where he came here by himself to earn money and then send for the family.
My grandfather had a scrap metal junkyard in a ghetto neighborhood in Chicago, so my father's first exposure was to black people. Eventually, my father opened up a liquor store in the ghetto. Then he progressed to a few different taverns. Then, in 1945, he had a club called the Mocambo Lounge. Live entertainment. A big, black nightclub that specialized in jazz music and was a hangout for musicians, whores, and dope dealers.
My father would see live recording equipment being brought in. He began to talk to people, and it didn't take him long before he realized there was a market for race records. Then he met a man named Art Sheridan, and they started Aristocrat Records. One of Aristocrat's first artists was Muddy Waters.
Chicago was the center for Delta musicians. They'd come up from West Arkansas by the hundreds. They came right off the plantations of Mississippi to Chicago. They'd ride up the Illinois Central from Memphis.
My father knew what these people wanted. He knew there was a market for their records. Soon he found out that his partners were cheating him. Within two years he was able to buy them out and change Aristocrat to Chess.
My own experience in the record business began when I was very young. I had a real father hang-up. I never saw my father. He had records during the day and the club at night. He was home very little. I found early that the only way I could see my father was to go to work with him, so I began very young.
I was in the shipping room. I loaded trucks. One time I asked my father what my job was. He got pissed at me and said, "Your job is watching me. "
I went on the road at thirteen. I drove the car for my father in the South. I'd sit on pillows, making those little stops with him. We would go to see the disc jockeys, and we'd have records in the trunk of his car, a '53 Cadillac, two-tone blue, the first car with air conditioning.
We'd go into these little towns and stop at the radio stations. We would see the disc jockey, most of the time pay him off. Sometimes we'd stay in a motel without the disc jockey knowing about it, listening to see if the guy really played the record or if he was pulling one of his tricks.
payola was how you got your records played. It was how you did business. Nowadays it's a whole other kind of sleazy style, but back then it was totally open. "You help me, and I'll help you."
My father developed a way to feel, I think, by osmosis. If he liked it, it usually sold. He definitely knew what black people wanted.
Willie Dixon (Chess recording artist/songwriter/bassist) : The Chess brothers always told me they were gonna start a company and when they did they wanted me to play with them. I thought they was just kidding, but sure enough they called me up. The first thing I did for Chess was playing string bass on a Robert Nighthawk song, Sweet Black Angel. After that I ended up on a whole lot of sessions - Muddy, Little Walter, Wolf, Eddie Boyd, Chuck Berry... really, I was playing bass on most of those records until they came up with the electric bass.
Phil Chess (co-owner, Chess Records) : Willie Dixon used to be a bouncer at the Crown Propellor Lounge on 63rd Street. It was a club, and he was fiddling around with writing stuff, you know. So he came in and he was a good guy, he really was. Always got along good with him. So did Leonard.
(Interview with Mary Katherine Aldin in CD box set The Chess Story, 1947-1975)
Willie Dixon : Leonard Chess called himself the producer but he didn't really know what was going on. He never knew nothing about no music. If you made a record he could tap his foot to, he'd think that was a good record. A lot of times he'd just antagonise people in the studio, swearing at them 'cause he thought that would make them play better. We'd waste a lot of time that way. He was smart latching onto Blues because it made him money, but he never had much of a feel for the music itself and, if he had ideas, he didn't know how to explain them. But after a while he started to listen to me because I'd tell him when I thought a song wasn't going to sell. After one or two of my things went over OK, he began to have confidence in me. He was smart enough to surround himself with guys who knew what they was doing.
Phil Chess (co-owner, Chess Records) : Whenever we had a guy to record, he (Willie Dixon) would go up with them and work with them