COMMENTARY : Getting Jelly Out of His Latest Jam : A Few Words on Behalf of the Man Who ‘Invented’ Jazz

George C. Wolfe’s “Jelly’s Last Jam” at the Mark Taper Forum does a bang-up job of crucifying Jelly Roll Morton for claiming to have “invented” jazz.

It’s time someone said a few words on Jelly Roll’s behalf. True, at 17 Jelly Roll made the idle boast that “I invented jazz one Sunday afternoon in 1902.” And Wolfe spends a lot of time taking that claim apart, note by note.

I’ve been a fan of Jelly Roll Morton’s since I first heard his recordings at the age of 12 in 1930. At the very least, I’d say that Jelly Roll’s famous statement has been taken out of context over the years and has followed him to his grave--which, incidentally, is in Calvary Cemetery in East Los Angeles.

Jazz is the music of the African-American people and, although they didn’t call it by that name, it was being played even before Jelly Roll Morton was born, so of course he couldn’t have invented it. It’s obvious he was already playing jazz that had been created by his predecessors.

But why do we have to take his claim literally? I believe he was trying to say, “I have something new here that I would like to add to the jazz chain of evolution.” That may not be quite so quotable, but it sums up Jelly Roll’s place in jazz history more accurately.

Jelly Roll Morton certainly did add to the jazz chain. His unfortunate claim as inventor doesn’t lessen the value of his contribution.

“Jelly’s Last Jam” may, in fact, be one of the strongest arguments yet for Jelly Roll’s place in the pantheon of jazz greats. The play and the music so integral to it exert the same powerful, hypnotic effect on the audience that Jelly Roll Morton himself did during his heyday.

Jelly Roll’s composition “King Porter Stomp,” which forms the musical backbone of the show, was written for his friend and fellow pianist, Porter King. In 1924, Jelly Roll recorded it as a duet with the great cornet player, Joe (King) Oliver. This recording was a signal that swing was on the way.

In it, we hear a short passage by Jelly Roll that later became one of Count Basie’s trademarks. It served as a vehicle for one of Fletcher Henderson’s best arrangements and orchestrations. Henderson recorded it with his orchestra (one of his best recordings) and later gave the arrangement to Benny Goodman, who recorded it in 1935. It became one of Goodman’s most famous recordings and gave trumpeter Bunny Berigan an opportunity to play one of his greatest solos.

The musical selections at the heart of “Jelly’s Last Jam” provide a fine sampling of the best Jelly Roll had to offer. Included are 11 of his compositions and two of his original arrangements. Eight new songs were written for the production by Luther Henderson (music) and Susan Birkenhead (lyrics), who also wrote lyrics for some of Morton’s compositions and for King Oliver’s “Dr. Jazz.” Henderson’s arrangements and adaptations of Jelly Roll’s music and “Dr. Jazz” are right in Jelly Roll’s spirit.

The almost nonstop music is performed by six talented musicians do Jelly Roll justice: musical director and pianist Linda Twine, reedman Jeff Clayton, trombonist Garnett Brown, bassist Karl Vincent, drummer Quentin Dennard and trumpeter Richard Grant.

For those of us who’ve followed in Jelly Roll’s footsteps, one of the highlights of the show is the entrance of Buddy Bolden, played by Ruben Santiago-Hudson. Credited with having the first jazz band, he is said to have been the greatest cornet player of his time and was one of Jelly Roll’s inspirations, friends and mentors.

Three of Jelly Roll’s popular stomps--”Hyena,” “Shreveport” and “Kansas City Stomp”--bring Act II some of its best moments. Legend has it that “Kansas City Stomp,” one of his most famous, was written for one of the Kansas Citys--in Kansas or Missouri. In fact, the song was dedicated to the Kansas City Bar in Tijuana, Mexico, a place frequently visited by Jelly Roll and, rumor has it, the place he met Anita Gonzalez, who became his wife.

It’s easy enough to take “Jelly’s Last Jam” literally as an indictment of Jelly Roll’s boasting and bravado. I’d rather look at it as testimony to his contributions. His music still has the vitality, verve and originality it always did, and here’s a chance to take another, appreciative look at it.

At the time Jelly Roll boasted about “inventing” jazz, Duke Ellington was 3 years old, Fletcher Henderson was 4, and Count Basie, Earl Hines, Don Redman, Benny Carter and Art Tatum hadn’t even been born yet. Diamond-filled teeth, monumental ego, flashy cars and colorful clothes notwithstanding, jazz would have missed much had it not had Jelly Roll Morton, or his “King Porter Stomp,” his “Loving Is a Low Down Blues”--or even for that matter, “Jelly’s Last Jam.”