James P. Johnson, one of the great figures in American Music died in New York City on November 17. Two days later, fewer than 75 persons attended the funeral services at University Chapel, in midtown Manhattan.

His enormous talents as composer, pianist, and arranger were as unappreciated in life as now. Although he wrote such tunes as "Charleston", "Old Fashioned Love", "Porter's Love Song", and "If I Could Be With You", the general public were ignorant of his name. A few musicians may remember such classics as "Carolina Shout", "Worried and Lonesome Blues", and "Snowy Morning Blues", but the sad fact is that Jelly Roll Morton was far better known. Even as a pianist Jimmy's fame was soon eclipsed by his pupil, Fats Waller.

I write of Jimmy's passing with a great sense of personal loss, for it was through him that I first learned of the wonders and intricacies of the blues. An old blue seal Columbia record of him playing "Worried and Lonesome Blues", which I first heard in 1924 opened up a world of which I had known nothing, and probably altered the course of my life: even now it is still my favorite disc.

As a writer of show tunes Jimmy was the equal of Gershwin, Youmans, and Kern, but the prejudices of the Broadway producers and publishers confined him to the all-Negro musicals, which rarely found favor on Times Square. He was a thoroughly schooled musician with enormous ambition, but his color kept him confined to what the phonograph and player-piano industries termed the "race" market.
Working in these confines he kept singers like Bessie Smith, Ethel Waters, and Maggie Jones [sic] supplied with blues by the dozen and his piano accompaniments will be treasured for generations to come. But he was frustrated by segregation and kept writing symphonies, operettas, piano sonatas and chamber music works, always hoping that the white world would recognize his talents. It never did.

The first time that I met Jimmy was in 1925 at the Colonial Theater on upper Broadway, where his show "Runnin' Wild" was playing. The title tune, "Old Fashioned Love" and "Charleston" were three of the hits from that score, and his piano playing dominated the wonderful pit band. A couple of years later, he and Fats Waller did the score of "Keep Shufflin' " at Daly's 63rd Street Theater, and three times I was lucky enough to get front row center seats. Both Jimmy and Fats were in the pit band at the two pianos playing tunes like "Sippi" and "Willow Tree" for a public that never even noticed them.
He wrote other shows too, like "Policy Kings" and "Sugar Hill", and all of them had librettos that perpetuated every miserable Negro stereotype, with black face comics rolling eyes and dice, wild shake dances, and tear-jerking scenes on the old plantation. But Jimmy was a man of integrity and when he had the chance in later years he wrote a brilliant one-act opera with the poet Langston Hughes, who called it "De Organizer". It was militantly pro-labor, and had very few performances.
In the 1930s, I was lucky enough to supervise some wonderful sessions with Jimmy, both as band leader and accompanist. One can only hope that George Avakian will reissue them on LP, to take their proper place along side the Brunswick, Riverside and Decca discs now available. And even though many of his Columbia and Okeh piano solos of the 20s are acoustically recorded, they should again be made available. Talent such as his transcends all mechanical deficiencies.
James P. Johnson was 64 [sic] when he died, and he should have been among the most famous and successful of men. Let us hope that future generations will make up for our lack of appreciation.