# Sophisticated singer Ethel Ennis, who reigned as Baltimore’s first lady of Jazz, dies at 86: Videos

- Link: https://jazzblues.eu/2019/02/20/sophisticated-singer-ethel-ennis-who-reigned-as-baltimores-first-lady-of-jazz-dies-at-86-videos/
- Published: 2019-02-20T21:25:17+01:00
- Author: https://JazzBlues.EU

**The front page of today’s _Baltimore Sun_ carries an excellent obituary for the
singer Ethel Ennis, described in its headline as that city’s “First Lady of Jazz.”
Which of course she was.**

As a performer, a regional celebrity, a venue proprietor and a community builder,
she bolstered Charm City’s underrated scene with a genial brand of strength and 
pride.

Ennis died at home in Northwest Baltimore on Sunday morning, at 86. Her husband 
of 51 years, Earl Arnett, confirmed her death today; he says she had suffered four
strokes over the past two years, including one in December, from which she didn’t
recover.

“Ethel was born on the third floor of a rowhouse, and she died on the second floor
of a rowhouse,” adds Arnett, a former feature writer and critic for the _Sun_. “
You can’t be much more Baltimorean than that.”

Beyond her legacy within the city, however, Ennis garnered a reputation as a vocal-
jazz aficionado’s secret: an unsung character in jazz history, and a walking memoir.

There was the summer run she shared with the Miles Davis/John Coltrane/Cannonball
Adderley sextet at the Village Vanguard in 1958. And the NBC-TV performance that
matched her with Duke Ellington’s orchestra in 1965. And the time in ’58 that she
and Jimmy Rushing gigged winningly with the Benny Goodman band in Brussels. And 
fruitful encounters with the likes of Cab Calloway, Louis Armstrong and Count Basie.“
Singers like Sarah Vaughan and Ella Fitzgerald admired her,” Arnett recalls. “I 
was in their presence when they said that. They considered her a peer. But she stayed
out of that world.”

Born in Baltimore on Nov. 28, 1932, Ethel Llewellyn Ennis began playing piano while
in grade school and was performing around town by her mid-teens. Her “singing happened
by accident,” Arnett says — and as the story goes, she premiered her vocal gifts
only to sate an audience request. (The instrumental foundation proved a coup for
Ennis throughout her career, enabling her to lead bands more effectively and quickly
earn her accompanists’ respect.)

For a decade beginning in the mid-’50s, she made vital contributions to what we 
now consider a heyday for vocal-jazz and traditional pop recordings, on labels including
Jubilee, Atco, Capitol and RCA Victor.

To hear some of these LPs for the first time — and you can with ease, as a healthy
chunk of her catalog can be streamed — is to be gracefully, soothingly awestruck.
On her 1955 debut for Jubilee, _Lullabies for Losers_, with peerless accompanists
like Hank Jones, Kenny Clarke and a Neal Hefti-conducted orchestra, her voice is
equally robust and elegant, blues-soaked and airy. (As Arnett told the _Sun_, Billie
Holiday dug the album and called Ennis in the middle of the night to say so.)

But more impressively and curiously, Ennis’ singing seems as familiar as it is distinctive.
Sarah Vaughan is a good touchstone, but Ennis’ texture is less sandy. Ella is another
fine baseline, though Fitzgerald’s presence feels fuller. Ennis can evoke Peggy 
Lee, _sans_ most of the latter’s sultry theatrics; that comparison, too, wilts under
close listening. In her magnificent clarity and directness, the Baltimore hero can
call to mind Cannonball-era Nancy Wilson. But not overly so.

Although she appreciated this heady period, Ennis liked her later CDs better, Arnett
admits. As evidenced on recordings like 1998’s _If Women Ruled the World_, where
she immerses herself in interactive small-group postbop, she retained her abilities
and allowed them to evolve. Her last concert took place in 2016.

Ennis and Arnett, who is white, were married in 1967 — a transitional year with 
regard to miscegenation laws in Maryland. Their ceremony took place in a courthouse
in Aspen, Colo., with a club owner giving the bride away and musicians acting as
witnesses.

In addition to Arnett, Ennis is survived by her brother — saxophonist Andy Ennis,
a veteran of Ray Charles’ band who led it for a time — as well as nieces, nephews
and cousins.

RCA Victor promoted Ennis heavily in the ’60s, Arnett says, but a breakout national
hit never came. Not that Ennis was gunning for one. “All she said she wanted to 
do was respect her talent,” he recalls. “She didn’t want to abuse it.” Part of her
savvy included the realization that the music business thrives on politics and exploitation,
and that professional success didn’t equate to happiness. “She had real integrity,”
Arnett says.

“People used to tell her, ‘Ethel, you’ll never make much money, but you’ll go down
in history,’” he adds, chuckling.

Still, unqualified triumphs followed. In 1973 her career surged after her profoundly
influential performance of the national anthem at President Nixon’s inauguration.
Her rendition — slowed-down and _a cappella_, with a soulful undertow — came about
via a high-profile fan, former Maryland Governor and Vice President Ted Agnew.

As John S. Wilson detailed in _The New York Times_, Agnew’s office requested she
sing at a state department dinner emceed by Frank Sinatra and featuring Danny Thomas.“
Afterward, Mr. Agnew invited all three entertainers to his apartment where he pulled
out [Miss Ennis’s recording of ‘Falling Leaves’](https://youtu.be/LuKwUIxjS9U) and
asked her to sing it while he accompanied her on the piano,” Wilson wrote. (“I’d
gotten all this notoriety with the Republican party,” Ennis quips in the piece, “
and here I am a registered Democrat.”)

Agnew then asked her to sing the Baltimore-rooted anthem at the ’72 Republican National
Convention, which led to the inauguration ceremony. Without the customary backing
of the United States Marine Band, Ennis helped to create a template for the anthem
whose stark, emotive splendor has endured — less a jingoistic celebration than a
thoughtful meditation on American history and ideals.

Another apex occurred during the mid-to-late 1980s, when Ennis and Arnett operated
Ethel’s Place, a music venue located near the Meyerhoff, home of the Baltimore Symphony
Orchestra. Though the project faltered commercially, the couple was able to foster
Baltimore’s jazz community and attract A-list bookings, no doubt a testament to 
Ennis’ stature. Along with an enviable regular schedule, the club hosted national
PBS broadcasts. At one of those, Arnett recalls, Ennis impressed Gerry Mulligan 
with a spot-on Billie Holiday impression during “Lover Man.” (He also notes that
the band featured Ray Brown on bass and Toots Thielemans on harmonica. Not bad.)

“_Everybody_ came through Ethel’s Place,” remembers Cyrus Chestnut, the brilliant
pianist who first performed with Ennis in a big band in the early ’80s, and later
shared intimate duo concerts with her. “It was special.”

As was its namesake. “She knew [jazz and blues] culture; she _was_ the culture,”
Chestnut says. “She didn’t have to study it — she was there when the culture was
being put together.”

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