February is Black History Month and all month-long, Fox 40 is recognizing notable figures with ties to the Southern Tier. Jazz musician Slam Stewart wasn't born here, but he came to call Binghamton home.

There are many ways to describe Leroy "Slam" Stewart. While interviewing fans, historians, and colleagues, the words that came up the most were "innovative," "legendary," and "great."

Stewart's friend and band mate, Al Hamme, describes him simply as "a gentleman."

Hamme met Stewart in the 1970s. The two taught together at Binghamton University. Hamme was the director of the Harpur Jazz Ensemble and the university's jazz program, which he also created. Stewart joined the faculty to pass on his knowledge to the next generation of musicians. By that time, Stewart had already had a long and impressive career. 

Slam Stewart received an honorary degree from Binghamton University in 1984. Al Hamme presented it to him. 

“A lot of people in this area don’t realize how famous he was," says Broome County Historian Roger Luther. 

Stewart was born in 1914 in Englewood, New Jersey. 

“He didn’t talk about it much, but I picked up hints every once in a while from his friends that he was a son of a butler for a wealthy family down there," says Hamme. 

 

Stewart attended the Boston Conservatory, where he would develop the style that he became known for. 

“When they gave him a bass solo, he would take his bow and play and sing along with it," says Benny Fiacco, the owner of Music City on the Vestal Parkway. 

While other musicians would hum or sing along with their instruments, Fiacco says Stewart was unique in that he would sing an octave higher than the notes his bass was playing.

Hamme says Stewart never finished at the conservatory because Benny Goodman heard him play and "hired him right there."

Throughout the 30s and 40s, Stewart played in New York's 52nd Street jazz clubs, rubbing elbows with names like Art Tatum, Charlie Parker, and Dizzy Gillespie. 

“In the 40s, he was the most recorded jazz bass player of all time," says Luther. 

In 1938, he and Slim Gaillard wrote what would become his biggest hit. "Flat Foot Floogie" went gold and a copy of the record was actually buried in a time capsule at the New York World's Fair in 1939. Stewart put out a string of hits and went on several world tours. He was part of what Hamme describes as a "jazz ambassador" program put together by President Eisenhower to spread goodwill to countries in Europe.

Hamme, a saxophonist with his own storied career, accompanied Stewart on some of his later tours. He says Stewart was especially popular in France, where he drew large crowds. 

"They treated him really well there. Me, not so much," laughs Hamme, "They don't really like Americans, but they loved Slam."

In 1969, Stewart made his way to Binghamton. 

“Roberson Center decided they wanted to put on a jazz concert," says Luther. 

One of Roberson's employees, Claire Wood, knew Slam and asked him to come play for the concert. 

“When he got here, he just fell in love with the area and also fell in love with the woman who invited him," says Luther. 

Claire and Slam would later marry and live at 80 Chestnut Street. With many living room jam sessions, the home on Binghamton's west side became a hangout for local musicians. It was memorialized in a track titled "80 Chestnut Street" on Stewart's very last recorded album.

Music City owner, Benny Fiacco, holds his copy of Slam Stewart's last recording. 

The album was a fundraiser for the Binghamton Sertoma Club, which received the proceeds from its sales. Hamme, who had introduced Stewart to the club by bringing him along to meetings, produced the record. 

“There were some places that he just didn’t get it correctly and we said, ‘it’s alright, we’ll do it in the next session,’ but we never got to the next session," says Hamme. 

Slam Stewart died of congestive heart failure on December 10th, 1987. The last recording session was scheduled for the very next day. He was 73 years old. 

Stewarts friends came together to finish the album for him. It now exists as a record of a legend's last days. Slam Stewart sang and bowed his bass right to the very end.