Summer 1923 : African-American Jazz Reaches the French Airwaves

When American troops arrived in France in 1917 during the First World War, they brought more than weapons and uniforms — they brought music. A new sound pulsing with rhythm and freedom: jazz.

After the war, this infectious music spread quickly through the nightclubs, cabarets, and music halls of Europe’s great capitals. A young generation, eager to turn the page on years of bloodshed, embraced it wholeheartedly. The era would later be known as the Roaring Twenties.

In the summer of 1923, French radio was still finding its voice. Only three stations were on air in Paris: the public stations of the Eiffel Tower and the École Supérieure des PTT, and a private one, Radiola.

That spring, Radiola had begun broadcasting on Thursday nights a late-evening program of dance music, featuring bands such as the Pigall’s Orchestra or Mario Cazes’s ensemble.

But that summer, something new burst through the static. From 9:40 to 10:30 p.m., listeners could tune in to American jazz — the first time this music had ever been heard on French radio. The band behind this milestone was Harry Coffie’s group (sometimes spelled Cofie).

Harry Cofie’s Band : Jazz from the Basement of Boulevard Haussmann

The studio at 79 boulevard Haussmann, tucked away in a basement, was where it all happened. Harry Cofie — real name Cofie Boehm — led the band, joined by his wife Madge, an Anglo-American singer.

Later, Madge would perform under the name Dinah, becoming a fixture of Paris nightlife. She ran several cabarets — at Pigalle and Montparnasse — including The Fashionable Night Club (1931), Dinah’s Shack (1932), and Le Régal (1933). The couple eventually ended their career in Argentina.

Buddie Gilmore and His Trio, Summer 1924

Radiola tried again the following year — by then renamed Radio-Paris. Starting on June 5, 1924, the Thursday late-night slot, from 10:00 to 10:45 p.m., was filled by Buddie Gilmore’s jazz band, directed by Seth Weeks.

Buddie (or Buddy) Gilmore was a drummer from North Carolina. Seth Weeks was known as the king of the banjo and mandolin.

One of the era’s best-known broadcasters, Radiolo (Marcel Laporte), left a colorful description of their performance in his 1925 memoir (published by Grasset):

“The music dislocates him, unhinges him, unleashes him. He beats on everything, the music stands, the chairs, even his own head, shouting wild words, dragging everyone into a frenzy.”

At the piano sat Mrs. Buddie, while Weeks strummed away on banjo, “admirable in his calm and good humor, plucking with great energy.” And when Radiolo announced their title, “they elbowed each other in the ribs, slapped their thighs, and roared with laughter for ten minutes.” Radiolo, it seems, didn’t understand a word of what they were saying…

Jazz and the Airwaves

The experiment didn’t continue the following summer. Jazz remained the heartbeat of Parisian nights but struggled to find a home on the radio.

A decade later, Jacques Canetti launched a Monday evening show on Le Poste Parisien (7:30–8:00 p.m.), featuring the latest hot jazz records. But he soon faced fierce backlash from listeners who dismissed the music as savage noise.

As Canetti later recalled, the switchboard operator was too embarrassed to repeat the angry callers’ words. Yet despite the controversy, the show stayed on air from November 1932 to the summer of 1934, a small but decisive victory for jazz on French radio.