The Death of Bessie Smith

Early recounting of jazz history is a weave of truth and conjectures. The music's pioneer chroniclers were unquestionably dedicated to the subject, but they often skipped the tedious task of conducting research, and simply perpetuated whatever sounded interesting to them. One reason for their cavalier approach may well have been the abundance of first-hand accounts available to them. Short of sitting down with Buddy Bolden, there were few stones that couldn't be upturned. Also, bear in mind that one couldn't stick a recording machine into one's pocket, and few writers had mastered shorthand (I only met one, Whitney Balliett). All this to point out that the field was fertile ground for myths.

Forty years ago, when I began work on my Bessie Smith biography, I was determined to bust as many of these myths as I could. Bessie was no singing wallflower or paragon of virtue, but neither was she scandalous by the day's show business standards. Hedonism went with the territory, and she led an active and sometimes outrageous life at home as well as on the road. If Bessie's off-stage adventures seemed a tad wilder than most, it was perhaps because her commanding presence demanded attention and few things she did escaped notice. Still, some writers used their Imagination and came up with such fantasies as her being kidnapped and dumped at Ma Rainey's feet, kicking and screaming her way out of a potato sack, or volunteering as a maid for her bed-ridden record producer, Frank Walker, or forced by Depression economy to take a job as a speakeasy hostess and selling chewing gum and candy in theater aisles. None of this was true, but it made good copy—never mind that even light research would have turned up better stories of exploits that actually did take place. 

One Bessie Smith myth was bigger than all the others combined: the story of how she bled to death, the victim of a Southern hospital's racist policy. Initial press reports did not hint of any such occurrence, but there were street whispers, and when they reached John Hammond's ears, he saw in  them an opportune irony that could both serve his leftist agenda and sell records. That the tale was riddled with holes did not seem to deter anyone from perpetuating it, not even John, who regarded himself as a member of the press. Had he simply picked up the phone and made a call or two, he could have written a piece that set the record straight, but he chose instead to give the rumor legitimacy in a piece written for the November 1937 issue of Down Beat.

This is when the myth grew legs that would keep it going for three decades, inspire a young Edward Albee to base upon it a one act play, The Death of Bessie Smith, and make Bessie almost as known for the alleged way in which she died as she was for her remarkable artistry.

Richard Morgan and Bessie pose in front of her old Packard in 1937

While John Hammond and others ignored the aforementioned holes in this story, some were justifiably skeptical. They included folklorist John Lomax, who in 1941 wrote a letter of inquiry to Walter Chandler, the Mayor of Memphis. In his response, the mayor correctly pointed out that the accident had not occurred in his city, as alleged by Hammond, but added that the country "is infested by Negro communists who seek to poison their own people against their best friends." If Lomax harbored further doubts about the story's veracity, he does not seem to have done anything about it. However, in 1957, Down Beat's George Hoefer, a jazz journalist of unusual integrity, made an attempt to get at the truth, but his findings were largely ignored—the myth refused to die, even after evidence to the contrary was published.

When I informed John Hammond that Bessie was, in fact, never refused admittance to a white hospital, and played for him the account attached to this post, he appeared to be embarrassed and did not give me an argument. I was therefore surprised to find in his 1977 autobiography, John Hammond on Record, a contrived story of how he was told "a long and convincing story" by "a man who was in a position to know the truth." He added that "there were two other people there nodding agreement as he told it to me." Why had John not told me this when he knew that I was researching Bessie's death? Because, he explained in his book, the man asked not to be quoted.  Yes, pigs do fly.


Flo Kennedy, the late attorney, was a good friend of mine, but she stopped speaking to me after the publication of Bessie. A couple of years later, she broke her silence and explained: "I know you wrote the truth about Bessie's death, but you should have left it alone."

Dr. Hugh Smith in the 1960s

It was George Hoefer's 1957 article that sent me on the trail of Dr. Hugh Smith. I knew only that he had been an intern at the Campbell Clinic in Memphis at the time of Bessie's accident and that he had in some way attended to her.  "I don't know how far back your personnel records go," I said when I called the clinic in 1971, "but I am trying to locate Dr. Hugh Smith, who was an intern in 1937." The lady on the other end of the phone asked me if I wished to be connected to Dr. Smith. He was still there and had long been the head of the clinic. Sometimes, one call can make a very big difference. Dr. Smith told me that he was tired of reading all these stories about how Bessie bled to death, so he would not give me an interview. However, he recommended that I read the liner notes on Columbia's latest reissue, because that was as close as he had seen anyone get to the facts. When I told him that I wrote the notes, he said that he would be happy to answer my questions and suggested that I mail them to him. He would send me a tape with the answers.


Here is that recording, made public for the first time. It contains more than an account of the accident scene, for Dr. Smith gives a great deal of information regarding the location, terrain, and what the South was like in 1937. Running time is about 42 minutes, but I hope you listen to the entire tape. It even has a surprise ending about which I will say no more.
Dr. Smith on Bessie's accident
http://www.mediafire.com/file/6jd0bnl9wuscj1v/2-01_Bessie%27s_accident.mp3

Click on image to enlarge

Bessie's casket leaves the church in Philadelphia for a slow tour through her neighborhood, stopping

briefly at the Standard Theater before heading for Mount Lawn Cemetery in nearby Sharon Hill.

http://2-01%20bessies%20accident.mp3/