What does a scientist do when an experiment returns unexpected results? They can edit their conclusion as need be – something that historians both oral and conventional can and must do when a thesis is not supported by evidence. But what if the process of getting there – the method – proves more complicated than expected? That is one of the more interesting questions one might ask while reading Sherrie Tucker’s book Swing Shift: “All-Girl” Bands of the 1940s. How does one extrapolate conclusions from what isn’t said, written, or printed? What steps can an oral historian take to both maximize usable data taken in interviews, and also respect the privacy, agency, and comfort of their oral authors? In this book about the all-woman bands of the Swing Era, Tucker faces these questions of silence when examining a topic whose historical record is practically defined by these silences.
Tucker’s book is about the experiences of women musical artists during and after World War II, specifically among all-woman or all-girl – the distinction here plays a notable role – and their struggles for recognition both past and present. As with many traditionally male-dominated fields, swing music saw a large number of women picking up the slack during World War II. Hundreds of all-woman bands played throughout and after the war, and yet when she attempted to begin her research on that topic, Tucker found silence at best and derision at worst. Traditional histories lauded folks like Louis Armstrong or Count Basie, while ignoring leading lights like the International Sweethearts or Ada Leonard’s USO shows. And yet those histories remained available. When beginning her project to unearth these histories, Tucker was inundated with enthusiastic offers from dozens of women from the era – some of whom were still playing – to record their memories.
It is silence that Tucker primarily attempts to combat in Swing Shift, and she does so through a number of examples that she personally interviewed. For example, women musicians were derided as sex objects and (to quote journalist Robert Toney) “fanatical housewives.” Even when they were allowed to play, all-girl bands often found their talent subordinated to their looks and demeanor. In an interview, band leader Peggy Gilbert noted women being removed from the stage because she “doesn’t smile enough, or is too fat, or her hair doesn’t look just so” (Gilbert in Tucker, 12), and that such practices were in no way conducive to a good sound. Though many opportunities were opened, and many women did forge notable careers, the patriarchal hierarchy began to reassert itself once the war ended – in large part burying the womens’ bands under the veneer of postwar conformity.
Tucker’s interviews were, thus, about breaking through this interference. As discussed in theories of oral history before (Ritchie comes to mind), the importance of documenting and maintaining these waning voices becomes all the more important; this is especially true given that this book is now a quarter-century old, and so many of these voices are now irrevocably lost to us but for Tucker’s work. Furthermore, the silences of historical records despite the availability of sources allows her to draw a logical conclusion: “The flaw of the swing narratives is more likely the uncritical reproduction of dominant gender ideology than a case of careless omission“ (Tucker, 6). When conducting background research for an oral history, it would be interesting to see how the “conventional” history of any topic
However, as Tucker demonstrates throughout, even this sharper picture cannot be considered complete until one also considers the intersection between race, sexuality, and gender among the all-girl bands. A white woman and a black woman would have faced many of the same stigmas and yet still have very different experiences. Furthermore, women in the all-girl bands faced a great deal of heteronormative suspicion. Both race and gender proved to be complicating factors in her research, and she has tackled both. For the former, she talks about the difference in opportunities between black and white performers, as well as noting the discrepancy in memory between black and white performers on the same tour.
In a later article, “When Subjects Don’t Come Out,” she discusses the silence of so many of the interviewed women on the topic of sexuality. As mentioned, and as demonstrated in awkward pauses and evasion, the heavy-handed attitude (especially in the military) towards any who resisted enforced heterosexuality silenced a lot of these stories. A major part of her 2002 article is having to come to terms with the fact that, for some, their sexuality was a private thing, not least because of the prior risk of exposure and ostracism. Having to read these silences is another important part of oral history, especially with narrators who may not be fully forthcoming. It also demonstrates the need for empathy when interacting with oral authors, especially when it comes to guaranteeing their privacy and respect for their boundaries.
It is clear that for all they are ignored, all-women bands did play a significant role in the homefront struggle during World War II, and that they did “It did not matter which way the applause meter swung,” Tucker notes. “Women’s bands were constructed as inauthentic for a variety of ideological, social, and political reasons.” (Tucker, 4). Swing Shift is, for this reason, as much a history of silence as it is a history of music.