It’s April 10, 1956, and singer Nat King Cole is assaulted on stage at a whites-only show in Birmingham, Alabama. In all, six men from a white supremacist group are charged with attempted kidnapping and intent to commit murder. Cole is injured in the attack and ends the show. “I can’t understand it,” Cole said later. “I haven’t taken part in any protests. Why should they attack me?”

Critics of Cole were quick to rebut that his “fence-riding” was part of the problem. “Organized bigotry makes no distinction between neutrals and activists in the fight for equality,” stated Roy Wilkins of the NAACP. A New York newspaper wrote that the singer had turned his back on the struggle by playing to Jim Crow audiences. Judge Thurgood Marshall said, “All Cole needs to complete his role as an Uncle Tom is a banjo.”

The criticism of Cole was a turning point. He had been content in what one historian called “quiet activism.” He gave anonymously to Black causes, and insisted on equal accommodations on the road. But following the attack, he openly supported the Montgomery Bus Boycott, he joined the NAACP, and was a civil rights consultant for President Lyndon Johnson.  

Music historians are quick, however, to note that Cole’s quiet activism was effective, as well. Later in 1956, The Nat “King” Cole Show debuted on NBC. It aired for two seasons, though mostly unsponsored. This, declared one music critic, was a landmark. A Black entertainer, with talent, poise, eloquence, and style, was seen by millions, and opened the door to greater exposure for Black artists.

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On the evening of April 29th, 1969, President Richard Nixon and Duke Ellington stood together in the Easter Room in the White House. Nixon, along with an all-star cast of jazz legends including Dave Brubeck, Paul Desmond, Dizzy Gillespie, and Gerry Mulligan spent a night honoring Ellington for his 70th birthday. 

Honoring the Duke for defining an American music genre in a career that spanned over 50 years, President Nixon awarded him a grand birthday gift: the Presidential Medal of Freedom. It was the Nixon administration’s first presentation of the Medal of Freedom–perhaps personifying the 37th president’s love for music and, on this night, his appreciation of jazz.

The Duke used the occasion to share some wisdom passed on from his late friend and composer Billy Strayhorn. “We speak of freedom of expression and we speak of freedom generally as being something very sweet and fat and things like that. In the end when we get down to the payoff, what we actually say is that we would like very much to mention the four major freedoms that my friend and writing-and-arranging composer, Billy Strayhorn, lived by and enjoyed. That was freedom from hate, unconditionally; freedom from self-pity; freedom from fear of possibly doing something that may help someone else more than it would him; and freedom from the kind of pride that could make a man feel that he is better than his brother.”

After the presentation, President Nixon asked all of his guests in the East Room to join him in singing “Happy Birthday” to the Duke. The President, taking his position at the piano, led the crowd through the score and was later joined on the piano bench by the legend Ellington himself.

Amidst of the turbulent times of the 1960s, it was a surreal scene, almost a fantasy, to have an Administration who exploited the culture wars and racial divides all the way to the White House host such an evening. Duke Ellington is the closest thing we have to jazz royalty. Ellington carried himself with honor, grace, and and unshakeable dignity— a man who was larger than life; who transformed music with a driving swing and unmistakable melodies. 

Jazz musician Billy Taylor stated, “Nixon really perceived the arts as non-political. He saw the arts as something that should be encouraged and nurtured, and in which the government should play only a supporting role. He was extremely supportive of jazz and made me feel most comfortable—and I’m a registered Democrat!”

Nixon cherished the Ellington event at the White House for the rest of his life. Upon the death of the jazz great in 1974, Nixon asked singer Pearl Bailey to be his personal representative at the Duke’s funeral and released a statement that “the wit, taste, intelligence, and elegance that Duke Ellington brought to his music have made him, in the eyes of millions of people both here and abroad, America’s foremost composer. We are all poorer because the Duke is no longer with us.”

Music – From his 70th Birthday concert, Duke Ellington and his orchestra with Billy Strayhorn’s “Take the ‘A’ Train.”

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It’s July 17, 1967, and poet/activist Amiri Baraka whistles John Coltrane charts from his New Jersey jail cell. He’d been beaten and arrested for his part in Newark’s violent protests – the “rebellion,” as he called it. Music keeps his mind off the pain, and his ears distracted from the tanks rolling in the streets … until the jailer passes his cell to tell him that Coltrane is dead.

Amiri Baraka founded the Black Arts Movement, and with Maya Angelou, Nikki Giovanni, and others, he sought to alter American consciousness through African-American arts. Like the protests erupting across America, his poems and plays were intense, often incendiary, but deep with a passion for change.  

He and the Movement found a kindred spirit in John Coltrane. From his writings on jazz, Baraka wrote, “Trane was our flag. We could feel what he was doing. We heard our own search and travail.” Baraka felt the connection between Black politics and jazz improvisation. He noted that, “Black music has its own kinetic philosophy … the fundamental call for freedom.” 

Elements of the Black Arts Movement are still active today, and Coltrane’s jazz is still its soundtrack. From “Alabama” – Coltrane’s elegy to the 1963 Birmingham church bombing, to A Love Supreme – the deeply spiritual testimony to Coltrane’s own struggle to find peace in the turmoil of the times, Baraka believed Coltrane’s music would carry the message longer than any “movement.”

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