Vicksburg: where ‘jazz’ came from

Maybe you’ve used the term, and surely you’ve heard “and all that jazz,” but if it hadn’t been for a little known incident—really a misunderstanding of another word—it would be·”all·that something” but not “All that jazz.”

And it happened in Vicksburg.

The late Blaine Russell, local historian and writer, told me the story many years ago, and I found verification of it in a June 17, 1924, copy of The New York Times that was reprinted 1ocally.

The irony is the timing of my research. A college friend of mine, Elaine Farris, called me from New York, where she was living, to ask about the word ‘jazz’ originating here. The day before, when jazz musician and bandleader Lionel Hampton found out that Elaine was from Vicksburg, he told her the story.

“Is it true?” Elaine asked me.

A day earlier I would have answered, “I don’t know.” Russell had just told me the story a day before.

Portions of the story from The Times are reprinted here. It concerned a famous jazz orchestra leader, Vincent Lopez.

(photo by Jimmy Baikovicius from Montevideo, Uruguay, CC BY-SA 2.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/inde.php?curid=37938216)

“The popularity of ‘jazz’ music abroad (in France) is great, and it is winning appreciation … as true American music.”

“Mr. Lopez asserted that the recent development of ‘jazz’ music entitled it to be considered a serious form of art. … I have been for a long time making a study of both the word ‘jazz’ and of the kind of music which it represents,’ he said. Then he told the following story:

“How we got the word ‘Jazz’”

“The origin of the colloquial word jazz is shrouded in mystery. The story of its beginning that is most frequently told and most generally believed among musicians has to do with a corruption of the name ‘Charles.’ In Vicksburg, Miss., during the period when rag-time was at the height of its popularity and ‘blues’ were gaining favor there was a colored drummer of rather unique ability named ‘Chas’ Washington. As is a common custom in certain parts of the south he was called ‘Chaz.’ Chaz could not read music, but he had a gift for ‘faking,’ and a marvelous sense of syncopated rhythm. It was a practice to repeat the trio or chorus of popular numbers and because of the catchiness of Chaz’s drumming he was called on to do his best on the repeats. At the end of the first chorus the leader would say:

“‘Now, Chaz.’

“From this small. beginning it soon became a widespread habit to distinguish any form of exaggerated syncopation as ‘Chaz.’ It was immensely popular from the start, for it had appeal to the physical emotions unobtainable from any other sort of music. Chaz himself had learned the effectiveness of this manner of drumming through following the lead of country fiddlers in their spirited playing of ‘Natchez Under The Hill,’ ‘Arkansas Traveler,’ ‘Cotton-Eyed Joe,’ and the numerous other similar tunes so dear to the hearts of quadrille dancers.”

Mention jazz and most folks think of New Orleans or Chicago, but don’t leave out Vicksburg where the word originated, and all because of the musical talent of a young man named Charles “Chas” Washington.

Gordon Cotton is the curator emeritus of the Old Court House Museum. He is the author of several books and is a renowned historian.