“The King of Jazz and His Sweet Little Wife”: Louis Armstrong and Alpha Smith in Europe 1932-1934

Our previous post shared dozens of snapshots Louis Armstrong and Alpha Smith took at home and abroad between July 1932 and May 1933. The earliest photos were taken during Louis’s first trip to England, where he was impressed at the way the locals treated him and especially Alpha. Here’s a couple of photos we didn’t share last time, opening with one Louis tells us was taken at the “Ace of Spades Roadhouse” on August 4, 1932; that’s Johnny Collins in the center but I’m not sure who the others are:

It also just dawned on me that the woman second from the left appears to be the same one in the following image, which has been published in Gary Giddins’s book Satchmo:

Alpha even took the time to pose for a striking studio portrait; I originally had this image placed later in this post as she inscribed it while in Paris in 1934, but after some Internet research, she’s clearly holding a copy of the July 1, 1932 Vogue magazine:

Here’s the Vogue cover:

In a letter written from Liverpool on September 17, 1932, Louis told Mabel Hicks, “And the people just crowds the stage doors waiting for me + Alpha to come out after the show and they’d touch us and wishes us good luck and would yell, Three Cheers for Mr & Mrs Armstrong. And such yelling–nice eh? And these English people are just wild about Alpha: They admire the way she looks after me, etc. She is so kind and sweet to me. The people admire seeing us together, we get loads of invitations.”

Of course, Louis and Alpha were not “Mr. & Mrs. Armstrong” at this point, but Louis wasn’t about to correct anyone on that front. And the impact he and Alpha had was referenced in a 1933 premature obituary from London, written in response to the false rumor that Armstrong had passed away. “All the time he was performing his little black wife, his constant companion wherever he went, stood in the wings holding a pile of clean handkerchiefs,” read the obituary from April 10, 1933. “He would dash to the side of the stage, seize a handkerchief, and go on playing. After each performance Armstrong would go exhausted up to his dressing room, where his wife would lay out ready for him a complete change of clothes. She never took her eyes off him: he was her entire life.”

While resting in Chicago, Johnny Collins set up a photo session at Gibson Studios, resulting in a series of publicity photos that have become nothing less than iconic. It’s worth pointing out that during that same session, Louis made time to pose for a photo with Alpha:

On April 5, 1933, Armstrong reminisced about that first tour of England to a British musician named George. “Maybe some day we’ll Come over there again,” he wrote. Who knows? Eh? Gate that really would break it up, especially the way I understand London n it’s people and it’s everything. Gee, that would be real swell. I think I could appreciate things OVER THERE much better this time. Ol papa Collins might decide, you know him, DONTCHA? Eh? He’d make up his mind along the very last minute. REMEMBER? Eh?” Armstrong added, “Alpha n I talks about those days all the time. Yea man.”

Sure enough, Johnny Collins managed to book a return to the Palladium in London so Louis, Alpha, and Collins departed on the Majestic in July 1933. Coincidentally, jazz fan, Melody Maker columnist, and future titan of the music industry John Hammond was also on board for this trip on the Majestic. “Louis Armstrong’s presence on the Majestic was about the most agreeable surprise one could hope for,” Hammond wrote in his August 12 column. “It more than compensated for all the mishaps of the voyage, for we played records and talked every morning until at least six o’clock. Louis is always fascinating, whether expounding on the virtues of [laxative] Abolena Water or the trials of touring with a large band in the South, and Alpha is just about the grandest soul in the world. I’ll never forget those six days.”

Once again, Louis and Alpha broke out their camera and took these snapshots, taken aboard the Majestic with Hammond and unidentified man:

Not sure who the man on the right is–any ideas?

Here’s Hammond alone:

One person not pictured in any of the Majestic photos is Johnny Collins. It was on this fateful trip that a drunk Johnny Collins called Louis the n-word and got punched out by Hammond (the full story is recounted in my book Heart Full of Rhythm, as well as the documentary Louis Armstrong’s Black and Blues). Once they arrived in England, Collins hung around and collected his share of the box office for the engagements he booked, but was no longer on speaking terms with his star client. As soon as Collins’s bookings were finished, he grabbed the next ship back to the United States–taking Armstrong’s passport with him. Louis and Alpha were stranded in Europe and would remain there from July 1933 through January 1935.

On top of that, Armstrong’s famed chops deserted him early in his run at the Palladium, leading him to cancel some engagements and even take an ad out in the Melody Maker promising that he would return to performing as soon as possible. At this potentially rock-bottom juncture, Armstrong was rescued by the popular dance bandleader Jack Hylton. Hylton was a big proponent of American jazz and had already booked Duke Ellington’s tour of Europe earlier in the year. He took over managing Armstrong’s career and booked him on a tour of the Scandinavian countries in October and November 1933.

Louis and Alpha didn’t take many photos in this period–but they posed for a bunch, many of which have ended up in our Archives, either saved by Louis or donated by Swedish fans, and are worth sharing now. The famed footage from Copenhagen would be an appropriate soundtrack for this portion of this essay, but instead, here’s a rare live recording of Armstrong doing “On the Sunny Side of the Street” in Sweden just a few days later:

Here’s a photo of Louis and Alpha posing with an orchestra in Sweden in October 1933:

A close-up from the same occasion:

Here’s another epic gathering in Stockholm, dated October 27, 1933, with members of Louis’s “Hot Harlem Band” partying with local Swedish musicians and fans:

A close-up of Louis (holding an American flag) and Alpha with the gentleman who is seated next to them in the above photo; according to our friend Per Oldaeus, that is Robert “Bob” DeReaux standing in the back:

It’s very hard to read, but it appears the inscription, written in Swedish, translates to something like, “Thank you for a pleasant evening with greetings and tributes to the King of Jazz and his sweet little wife.” The name might be “Utter” and again, it’s dated as Stockholm, October 27, 1933.

At some point that evening, a close-up was taken of Alpha’s beaming face, which was turned into a snapshot:

Soon after the Scandinavian tour, Louis and Alpha returned to London. It’s my assumption that this is when they posed for a series of photos in that city’s Ava Studio. This one, of them reading an issue of Melody Maker was first published in that magazine in January 1934, but an earlier one of just Louis reading it was published in December 1933:

Alas, it has not been possible to figure out which issue of the Melody Maker this is, but if there are any collectors of that magazine out there, please note that the front headline has something to do with bandleader Lew Stone, but I cannot make out the rest. (The February 23, 1934 issue features very similar cover with a Lew Stone headline and a York advertisement but the photo placement of Stone is in the wrong column.)

Having Louis dressed up so nattily must have been an exciting moment, so Alpha snapped a photo of him as he prepared for his close-up:

While at Ava Studios, Louis and Alpha also changed clothes and posed for this photo:

They seem to be wearing the same outfits in this outdoor photo, so my assumption is it was taken the same day, perhaps with the photographers or maybe staff of the Melody Maker:

Back in England, Louis and Alpha enjoyed a day off in Brighton, breaking out their camera for the first time in many months. Louis numbered these in the same green ink that he used for the 1933 road photos we shared last time.

We’ll begin with Louis, Alpha, and some members of Louis’s “Hot Harlem Band.” After having watched the Danish footage a million times, I’m pretty confident that’s, from left to right, bassist German Arago, Alpha, trombonist Lionel Guimaraes, Louis, trumpeter Charles Johnson, drummer Oliver Tines, and an unidentified man who doesn’t appear to be one of the band members. The man squatting is pianist Justo Baretto:

Armstrong must have been especially close with Baretto as he appears in multiple photos. Here’s one of Baretto by himself:

Here’s Armstrong and Baretto together:

And here’s the same exact photo, inscribed by Baretto in Spanish; some of the words are faded but it’s definitely signed to Louis and “his wife” and the word “amigo” is repeated twice, signaling their great friendship:

For completeness sake, one more snapshot of Baretto, inscribed to Louis:

Back to Brighton, Alpha feeds a seaside treat to Louis–there’s that home movie camera again, referenced in our last post:

In this photo, Louis is holding the camera; I think that’s bassist German Arago on the left and I’m not sure who the man on the right is. He appears to be holding Alpha’s coat so maybe he’s Louis’s European valet, or right hand man:

Two photos of Armstrong and Arago:

Just based on his smile, I’m thinking this is trumpeter Charles Johnson (he beams at Louis throughout the famous Danish footage) but I could be wrong:

And this appears to be the same location, but now Alpha is wearing her fur coat, so this might be another trip to Brighton; the man is unidentified:

However, it turned out the trip to Brighton had an adverse effect on Armstrong’s already brittle chops. It was in late December 1933 that Armstrong’s lips finally gave out during a performance at the Holborn Empire, with blood running down his tuxedo shirt in the middle of his show. According to a report in Melody Maker, “Actually, he should never have started at the Holborn at all, as he had been having trouble the week previously when he was doing three shows a day at the Ambassadors Hendon, during which the mere contact of the mouthpiece with his lip was causing him great pain. A trip to Brighton and the salt air there completed the damage.”

Armstrong had to stop performing for a number of weeks, spending much time convalescing in London and hanging with young writer Leonard Feather. Feather wrote about one of their hangs in the January 13, 1934 issue of Melody Maker, referencing Louis and Alpha’s home movie habit.

“The scene was Louis Armstrong’s sitting-room,” Feather wrote. “We had just been watching a selection of home-made films on a cinematograph machine which the trumpet king bought last year. It is one of his proudest possessions, and he always takes a great deal of joy in running through some of the pictures he and Alpha have taken in various corners of Europe and America. I wish you could have seen Louis just then. The success of his cinema performance and the presence of a number of friends combined to put him in great spirits. The pictures had been accompanied by a series of good records, and occasionally there came the thrill of hearing Louis give vent to a spontaneous burst of song. As a special favour for he is a modest soul I had been allowed to play, during the last reel, his own famous record of ‘Confessin’,’ which he had played for me by request on the stage last time I went to see him.”

In May 1934, Louis and Alpha traveled to Wolverhampton, England, with a new member of their entourage: a Wire Hair Fox Terrier named Peter! (A previous draft misidentified Peter as a Scottish Terrier, which is how the Chicago Defender reported it in 1935; thanks to reader Mark Mayerson for the correction!) Two photos were taken at what appears to be a train station, both gems:

The caption on this one reads, “The Stars, Louis + Peter”:

I’m assuming those are members of Armstrong’s band but he didn’t make any recordings between November 1933 and November 1934, so I’m not sure of the personnel he was using at that time. There is an undated photo from around this time of Louis and Alpha with a man I believe is saxophonist Fletcher Allen (if you’ve seen the Danish footage, it’s not Peter DuConge, who takes the clarinet solo on “Tiger Rag,” and who was also married to Ada “Bricktop” Smith). I’m also assuming this is England, but am open to suggestions:

Louis and Alpha eventually left London for Paris in late July 1934. Leonard Feather spent time with them on their last day in England and wrote about it (in a bizarre column with a female perspective, using the pseduonym “Phoebe the Fan”):

“Well, I said good-bye to Louis this afternoon. It was six o’clock. He’d just got up. He was listening to opera on his portable. Then he started to tidy himself up to go out to the pictures, so I just sat there and admired Alpha’s smooth, wavy, black hair, and wished I wasn’t a blonde. I think Louis and Alpha must be the most confirmed film fans ever. Never a new picture do they miss, and this week, since they’ve been out of town such an age, they’ve just spent their days going straight from one cinema to another.”

Louis and Alpha’s love of the cinema was apparently something they became quite known for while in Europe; in 1933, a Swedish newspaper noted, “Occasionally, he goes to the movies. He heard they show Cavalcade at the moment – but they wouldn’t show it in English, would they? The reporter tells him that they do so. Allright, Mrs. Armstrong says, then we’ll go at 9.15. She has already learned our cinema habits; the group arrived from Stockholm.”

(And now a parenthetical aside for any of my fellow Laurel and Hardy fans out there. In his autobiography, Satchmo, Armstrong refers to Stan Laurel as “my favorite comedian of the movies at that time.” There are no other overt references to Laurel in our Archives so I always wondered which Laurel and Hardy films Armstrong had time to see and how Laurel might have impacted him. Well, in a 1970 audio letter to Max Jones that we play on every single tour of the Louis Armstrong House Museum, Armstrong says, “Well, folks, that’s my story–I guess I’m stuck with it.” At one point in the film Sons of the Desert, Stan Laurel says, “That’s our story and we’re stuck with it.” Thus, I’m convinced Louis was quoting Laurel in the 1970 letter but when would he have seen Sons of the Desert? Sure enough, it premiered in London in February 1934 (as Fraternally Yours) and played throughout England in the fall and summer of that year, the height of Louis and Alpha’s film fandom–I can just picture them laughing at Laurel and Hardy and Louis retaining Laurel’s line, still able to quote it decades later.)

Louis and Alpha moved to Paris in the late summer of 1934, Louis again taking a few months off to rest his chops. Writing in the Black newspaper the Philadelphia Tribune, Edgar Wiggins reported in August, “Armstrong denied the rumor that he plans an early return to America, has secured a swanky apartment in the rue De La Tour D’Auvergne, just below ‘Bricktop’s’ apartment, where his wife, Alpha, happily does their cooking again.”

Louis and Alpha must have gotten close to Belgian jazz authority–and future Armstrong biographer–Robert Goffin at this time, as they signed this charming photo–which looks like it might be another from Ava Studio–to Goffin on September 8, 1934, referring to him as “our best friend”:

Armstrong eventually reorganized his band, now under the management of N. J. Canetti, and had a major comeback performance at the Salle Rameau on November 13. Wiggins was there to write it up for the Philadelphia Tribune, noting, “This writer was in the wings with Mrs. Armstrong, or Alpha as Louis’ comeley and elysian little wife is popularly known, just before he ran out on the stage.” Wiggins later added, “Shouts came from the audience for ‘more’ in a score of languages and lasted fully seven minutes. Armstrong had taken several encores and wet with perspiration had gone to his dressing-room, and assisted by Alpha was undressing. But the audience had not departed nor ceased shouting. Louis was encouraged to take another encore, he did, and it was the first time in the history of the concert hall an artist appeared before his public in a bath-robe with a bath-towel around his neck.”

Armstrong and his band then went on tour, including a stop in Brussels in December, where these photos were taken, showing Louis, Alpha, and the band’s singer from Germany, Arita Day:

Here’s one of just Louis and Alpha; notice Alpha holding a copy of Variety, more proof of her film fandom:

And here’s Louis and his full orchestra; the personnel at this time was as follows: Jack Hamilton, Leslie Thompson (tp), Lionel Guimaraes (tb), Peter DuCongé, Henry Tyree, Alfred Pratt (reeds), Herman Chittison (p), Maceo Jefferson (g), German Arago (b), Oliver Tines (d).

But it was during this tour that Louis–chops once again in tatters–accused manager Canetti of not paying him enough money. Tensions ran high and in January, he and Alpha abruptly departed for America. “Louis Armstrong, the superman with the trumpet, has split with his local manager, N. J. Canetti, and having booked passage for himself and his wife, Alpha, on the S. S. Champlain, of the French line, which sails for Le Havre January 23, is scheduled to reach New York City on January 30,” Edgar Wiggins reported.

Armstrong returned to a firestorm of controversy, with Johnny Collins claiming he was still his manager and with his lips in such tatters, he was forced to stop playing for several months. The New York Amsterdam News reported in February that “Armstrong is in retirement in his Southside Chicago apartment with Alpha, his dazzling brownskin sweetheart, and Peter Armstrong, his pet Scotch terrier. He recently returned from Europe, where he is alleged to have left a trail of broken contracts.” 

By this point, the Louis Armstrong saga should be sufficiently known enough to speed through what happened next: Armstrong hired Joe Glaser as his manager, his troubles disappeared with Collins, his lips healed, he took over Luis Russell’s Orchestra, signed a contract with Decca Records, and was back on top of the music world by the end of 1935. But for our purposes, something strange happens upon Armstrong’s return to Chicago: the number photos of him and Alpha trickle down to only a handful.

Thus, between this post and our previous one, we have now shared the great majority of photos of Louis Armstrong and Alpha Smith. But they lived together for three more years in the United States before getting married in 1938–and divorced in 1941. We might not have as many images to share, but we will tell the tale of the sad ending of their relationship in our next post.