ABSTRACT
B Eginning In The 1960s, various chambers of commerce awoke to the fact that they could attract tourists by staking claim to whichever pieces of jazz history were theirs. Cities that had been oblivious to the early jazz made within their boundaries began to advertise that so-and-so was born there, that so-and-so played there, that they had lively saloon districts around the turn of the century. Weekend festivals were organized to honor native sons (and a few daughters), and neighborhoods with cobblestone streets were tricked out to look “oldtimey.” Travel agents were notified of the dates. St. Louis celebrated the ragtimers who had rocked the rafters at Tom Turpin's bar; Kansas City recalled its days as a hub on the wheel of territory bands; Chicago touted itself as the crucible in which hot playing was forged; Memphis proclaimed itself the home of the blues. For the newspapers, old-timers racked their brains to recall the first syncopated playing they ever heard, and, whatever they remembered, they called “jazz.”
