Bull Moose Jackson, 'Big Ten-Inch Record' and Much More

When I started this blog 16 years ago, I decided to focus on 10-inch LPs, a long-forgotten niche and one that I had pursued for many years. What better name, I thought, than the old R&B hit, "Big Ten-Inch Record." Many people think the name is an allusion to the Aerosmith version of the song, but I was thinking of Bull Moose Jackson's 1952 original. I don't believe I've ever heard the later edition.

It's well past time for an homage to the Moose, so I have gone back to the original 78s and prepared this post of 18 songs dating from 1945 to 1952, ending, appropriately, with "Big Ten-Inch." You'll find Louis Jordan style romps, ballads a la Charles Brown, jump blues and instrumental features for Jackson's tenor sax.

A native of Cleveland, Benjamin Jackson (1919-89) first became known as an instrumentalist and sometimes vocalist with Lucky Millinder's big band, which combined jazz with the R&B sound that was gaining prominence in the 40s. The bandleader saw his potential, gave him the nickname "Bull Moose" and eventually became his manager.

The Moose's first records on his own were made for King while he was still in the Millinder band. Found as a country label in 1943, King soon branched out into R&B with the Queen imprint. Jackson was the first artist released on the subsidiary, which was folded back into King a few years later.

The first song in our set, dating from December 1945, is "Going Back to Cleveland Ohio," which is a straight-ahead blues notable for its strong beat, mellow vocal from Jackson, and idiosyncratic lyrics that veer from the fond into the profane when you least expect it - "She looks like a bear / Got hair everywhere / Her name is Trudy / and she's got loads of booty." The powerful backing is by members of Millinder's band, notably pianist Sir Charles Thompson, bass player Beverly Peer and drummer Panama Francis.

The song was retitled "Cleveland Ohio Blues" when it was reissued on King some time later.

Annisteen Allen

The following day, the same group cut "Oo-Oo Ee-Bob A Lee Bob," backing up Millinder vocalist Annisteen Allen, who swung hard and had a loud and cutting delivery that must have been effective live. "Oo-Oo Ee-Bob A Lee Bob" is a cover of "Hey! Baba Ree Bop," which had been a hit for Lionel Hampton, who himself was covering Helen Humes. Allen's record is more dynamic.

Also included in the collection is the flip side, an instrumental called "Jamin and Jumpin," a thinly disguised version of "Sweet Georgia Brown."

Lucky Millinder

As mentioned, Jackson was still in the Millinder band when the above recordings were made. I've included one side from Lucky's band that features the Moose - "Chitlin' Switch," a charming song that was covered by Johnny Otis among others. Jackson is the vocalist, and possibly the sax soloist, although that also might be the work of Sam "The Man" Taylor.

Before returning to King in late 1947, Jackson made a few records for the short-lived Super Disc label, which were reissued on M-G-M later on. The first is "Moose on the Loose," where Jackson shows off his tenor chops on a version of "Flying Home."

The Jackson band on the Savoy Ballroom marquee, New York, probably mid-1940s

"Keep Your Big Mouth Shut" is a enjoyable Louis Jordan-style story blues written by Rudolph Toombs and nicely dispatched by the Moose as the sad-sack protagonist.

The final Super Disc is "Memphis Gal," which is essentially "Going Back to Cleveland Ohio," including an identical final verse, although this time his gal's name is Judy instead of Trudy.

Henry Glover and Sally Nix

Jackson returned to King is August 1947 with an excellent four-song set, all of which are included here and all of which were written by Sally Nix solo or in tandem with producer Henry Glover.

The first is a bouncy boogie-woogie called "Sneaky Pete," a term that can refer to various types of alcoholic beverages, but here is probably a nod to fortified wine. It's very effective (the song, not the wine). For this record, the band was dubbed "His Buffalo Bearcats," a surprising name considering that Jackson hailed from Cleveland.

"I Love You Yes I Do" was one of the Moose's biggest hits. It's a nothing-special ballad, but it was extraordinarily popular on the basis of Jackson's sincere vocal.

Cash Box, November 15, 1947

More to my taste is the raucous boogie "I Want a Bowlegged Woman." That's one of the great titles of all time, and the record lives up to it. "She's gotta be built like an old bass fiddle / Big bow legs with plenty room in the middle," the Moose sings guilelessly.

If anything, "Fare Thee Well, Deacon Jones" is better. This faux-gospel number is set at the funeral of the good Deacon. One "little old lady" jumps up to pay her respects - "He was my old man for years / and he sure could shift his gears," she testifies. The band is the enthusiastic congregation for this one. It ends with the Deacon rising from the coffin and informing the mourners they're all going to hell, via a Cleanhead Vinson style stop-time recitation. The amusing Deacon is unfortunately unidentified.

Cash Box, July 10, 1948

The 1948 recording ban intervened, so Jackson's next session was in February 1949. "Don't Ask Me Why" is a bid to recreate the success of "I Love You Yes I Do." Same story with Henry Glover's "Let Your Conscience Be Your Guide."

"Little Girl Don't Cry" is another ballad - this time the Moose is covering a Millinder record that the bandleader wrote with Doris Davis. It's a good effort on a just-OK song.

The next (and final) ballad is "Not Until You Came Along," by Glover and King honcho Syd Nathan. Moose had enjoyed big hits with ballads, so they kept on a-comin'.

The remaining song from 1949 is "Why Don't You Haul Off and Love Me," a cover of a huge country hit by King's Wayne Raney, written by Raney and Lonnie Glosson. Jackson's cover is better than the original.

"Cherokee Boogie (Eh-Oh-Aleena)" is another cover of a King artist, Moon Mullican. It's the honky-tonk pianist's version of "Hey! Baba-Ree-Bop" adorned with stereotypical "Indian" effects. The tenor solo is probably by Sam Taylor. This comes from 1951.

Finally we arrive at "Big Ten-Inch Record," surely Jackson's best record and one of the finest R&B records of all time. It's one of those double-entendre songs that make use of the stanza break for effect: "I really get her going when I take out my big ten-inch / Record of the band that plays the blues." The unlikely author of this tune is Fred Weismantel, former arranger for Glenn Miller and George Paxton.

Although "Big Ten-Inch Record" was surely referring to 78s (what else?), I adopted it for this blog, which was originally for 10-inch LPs. I later expanded its purview to LPs of all sizes, and lately more and more 78s. The irreverent name almost certainly gives people the wrong idea, because the specialties around here are classical music and vocalists, although I do post music of many types.

Most of the 78s in this set were filched from Internet Archive then cleaned up for consumption. As with many vintage R&B records, the originals were very noisy. I've had some luck removing the sonic detritus for this post, while patching a few sections with lossy copies. You may notice a resulting difference in quality every once in a while. The saving grace is that with 78s - even from small companies - the sound can be very vivid and present.

Jackson largely retired from the music business later in the 1950s, and worked in catering. He was rediscovered in the 1980s and had some success until his death in 1989.

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