Every picture tells a story … or two.
It’s 1951 Los Angeles, and photographer Bob Willoughby works in his darkroom, listening to the radio. The disc jockey promotes a jazz concert that night at the Olympic arena. The concert starts at midnight. Intrigued, Willoughby packs his camera and heads for the show. What he finds there, and what he captures on film, become iconic images of the power of jazz. Look a little closer to the photos, and another, deeper story unfolds.
Willoughby finds the show in full swing. Hundreds of young fans crowd the stage. They are enraptured. Saxman Big Jay McNeely, famous for his infectious energy, has them whipped into a near frenzy. Caught up in the moment, Willoughby jumps on stage and shoots frame after frame. His most famous image is of McNeely, lying on his back at the edge of the stage, drenched in sweat, wailing on the sax while the kids scream.
The energy emanating from that photograph is palpable. But it is also a telling reflection of the times. Look deeper. You’ll notice that all those screaming kids are white. There isn’t a person of color to be seen. And toward the back, a white policeman patrols the crowd. His expression is sober. His eyes are wary of McNeely’s performance and the young people’s reaction.
As one jazz writer commented at the time, “Music may be colorblind, but society in the 1950’s sure wasn’t.”
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