By Janet Sommer

One of the most amazing life stories in jazz belongs not to a musician at all, but to one of the best known and beloved chroniclers of jazz history, Dan Morgenstern. As a jazz reporter, historian, archivist and author of "Jazz People", a collaborative effort with photographer Ole Brask, published in 1976, his contribution to the art form is undeniable. But add to that the fact that he has been Director of the Institute of Jazz Studies at Rutgers University for nearly twenty-five years, is a former editor of Jazz, Metronome and Down Beat magazines, and has a seemingly unprecedented number of Grammys for his liner notes, and you have a man who has virtually given his life to the cause. What many people don't realize is that Morgenstern has essentially grown up with jazz, and that as a child staying just ahead of the Nazis in war torn Europe, he was already lugging his phonograph and record collection from place to place.

Born in Munich in 1929, and spending the early part of his childhood in Vienna, Morgenstern was the son of a journalist who had written strong anti-Nazi pieces before Hitler had even come to power. In a tale of escape, separation and intrigue, one is reminded that films like Casablanca had their roots in real life stories such as the Morgensterns'.

Morgenstern arrived in New York in 1947. As he recalls, "Most people, when they come to New York, want to see the Empire State Building. I wanted to see 52nd Street." And see it he did. In a piece written 15 years later called "The Death of 52nd Street," he wrote:

"52nd Street--Jazz Street--died at 3 a.m. on Easter Sunday morning in New York City in 1962, with the closing of Jimmy Ryans (Theoretically, there is a jazz club remaining on 52nd St., the Hickory House, but this club is in the block between Sixth and Seventh Ave., closer to 7th, which is, both geographically and spiritually, border country). Though the wake was well-attended, it was not an auspicious one... especially if one considers what "the Street" once meant to jazz, and how many of today's great names got their real start there. But then, Jimmy Ryan's had long ceased to be a jazz centre. It is a minor miracle that Ryan's lasted as long as it did, amidst the shadows of the giant office buildings which had replaced the strip-joints which in turn had replaced all the jazz spots: The Three Deuces, The Onyx, The Famous Door, The Downbeat, Kelly's Stable...and the many others, some short-lived, some achieving the ripe age of a decade or so.

"The Street, the child of repeal and depression, had its heyday during the years of war-prosperity, and fell victim to a combination of post-war apathy, television, amusement taxes, and changing tastes and attitudes among jazz musicians and the jazz audience. Musicians and fans can tell stories about the street for hours on end, and everybody has his favourite memory. When intramural competition among club-owners had reached its peak, it was possible to take a stroll from the corner of Sixth Avenue up to "21", and backtrack on the other side to the White Rose Bar, accompanied by the strains of Billie Holiday, Art Tatum, Charlie Parker, Coleman Hawkins, Lester Young, Hot Lips Page -- and then some. Sitting in was taken for granted. During the height of the holy bop wars, George Brunies marched himself out of Ryan's and blasted off on his trombone in the direction of Dizzy's habitat across the street, challenging him to a musical duel, traffic be damned. Diz declined."

Dan Morgenstern not only helps keep jazz alive, he makes its history come alive, something that is not always in the grasp of historians, archivists and the like. The story that follows, Dan's story, is also a story of jazz, the music and musicians, journalists and fans, but it is a history of the 20th century, in ways that will become obvious.

It seems that when interviewing anyone involved in jazz, it is always good to allow for some improvisation. With Morgenstern, I basically told him that I wanted to start with where he had come from, where he is today, and how he had become the sort of unofficial Dean of Jazz Journalism. And from there, he pretty much soloed. His story is unique not only for the massive amount of work done on behalf of jazz, but I think his is a life unique in its voice, in its direction and in its purpose. I have tried to simply stand out of the way in this case, and let Dan Morgenstern tell his own story. After all, who could do it better?

(This interview was conducted at the Institute of Jazz, Rutgers University on June 5, 2000. Believe it or not, some parts have been edited due to space constraints.)

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