The Lady Swings: Memoirs of a Jazz Drummer by Dottie Dodgion with Wayne Enstice (University of Illinois Press, 2021)

—Cathy Ritchie

As a jazz appreciator, I gleefully devoured Ken Burns’s fascinating, if testosterone-heavy, 2004 documentary series Jazz. But I now ask rhetorically, “So where was Dottie Dodgion?” Probably sitting behind the guys in whatever combo she found herself, adding first-class rhythm to the proceedings with the drums she loved. But now readers get to learn how she did it.

Dodgion died in September 2021 at age 92, but lived to see her marvelous memoir The Lady Swings bring new luster and recognition to her name. With collaborator Wayne Enstice’s able assistance, Dodgion regales readers with the supreme ebbs and flows of her professional and personal lives over five decades, using an engaging conversational tone throughout. While her love of music in general and jazz in particular was always her reason for being, her unique circumstances—as first of all, a woman performer and second of all, a drummer and sometimes singer—meant her professional existence in jazz would always be exceptionally challenging.

Dodgion was born Dorothy Giaimo in California in 1929. Her father was a bandleader and drummer, and she imbibed his love and respect for jazz music. Beginning her career as a singer, Dodgion switched to drums in the early 1950s, though her musician husband at the time discouraged her. Nevertheless, she would vocalize from her drum perch when possible. Later that decade, she found the love of her life, saxophonist Jerry Dodgion, and her peripatetic career was truly underway.

In exhaustive (and sometimes exhausting) detail, Dodgion describes nearly every job, every group, and every locale she experienced, both as a solo act and partnering with Jerry in their decades as a couple. These years included hand-to-mouth survival when gigs weren’t plentiful; scorn from some male musicians at the thought of a woman joining them onstage as an instrumentalist, let alone “manning” the drums; and exposure to drugs, racism, and other forms of unprofessional behavior.

But shortly after settling in 1961 New York City, she landed an engagement with the legendary Benny Goodman (though he was no feminist trailblazer among band leaders himself), thus breaking ground as a woman who could play a so-called “man’s instrument” in any musical configuration.

Dodgion’s reputation for impeccable musicianship grew as she crossed paths with some of jazz’s greatest performers. Her circumstances were never plush, however. An eventual divorce from Jerry combined with a run of unemployment, and lengthy separations from her only daughter. Increasing age impacted her deeply; I’m reminded yet again how determinedly so-called “freelance” musicians like Dodgion fought (and still fight) to survive on a daily basis, with rare guarantees of sustained work on their horizons.

As Dodgion continued to seek gigs in her 60s and 70s (including a stint with an all-female group led by Marian McPartland), her standing among her peers was secure, bolstered by several recordings featuring both her drum work and vocalizing. (Samples of her multiple talents are available on YouTube, and she’s briefly included in the wonderful 2014 documentary Lady Be Good: Instrumental Women in Jazz, which I highly recommend.)

Despite Dodgion’s gripping story, what saves this book from reader exhaustion is her down-to-earth, often humorous, and always enthusiastic narrative voice. This woman’s life was anything but settled. She continually lived on an edge, but her dedication to the jazz art, and respect for the colleagues with whom she shared the journey, rings clear on every page. While Dodgion enjoyed her peers’ admiration, she usually adapted a more understated approach to fame. As she puts it: “I always say I like to be kind of unknown….That’s always been more my style than blowing my own horn—let somebody else do that. Low profile, that’s old school: the secret power of the old pros.”

Regarding her male colleagues, she notes: “Why I was blessed to be placed in the path of so many musical geniuses I do not know, but I paid attention and they pushed me hard. The reward was that I played better. The passion I felt from the big boys never left me wanting. How many situations in life can you say that about?”

And the late, great Dottie Dodgion sums it up in her final paragraph:

“Humble beginnings is the story of my life and I’m leaving humbly, glad that I got what I got: the ultimate thrill of playing with the ultimate musicians. Who could ask for anything more?”

Indeed.