It was in Feb. of 1979 that I went to audition for a tribute show about the Boswell Sisters. The show, as yet unnamed, had been written by Stuart Ross and Mark Hampton, and Stuart would be directing. Stuart had previously cast me in an off off  Broadway show he was directing, something about a crazy dentist. That was in the fall of 1975. As luck would have it, I was simultaneously cast in a show at LaMama ETC, which paid actual money, a whopping $75 a week. So I didn’t do that show with Stuart. Here I was four years later, hoping he didn’t harbor any bad feelings for my past action. The plan for this current show was to cast a trio of female singers who could mimic the great Boswell sound, then do a short version at a west side cabaret in April; there would be no pay, but the hope was that a more fully realized show could be capitalized. Basically, it was to be a kind of backers audition of the material.  
           
After my first  audition, I had to leave to do a couple concerts in San Francisco; as soon as I got back, I had a message to come to a callback. This audition was held in the tiniest studio in Manhattan Plaza. There were about 10 women there, jammed into this closet with an upright piano. Stuart and Mark were forming the group into various trios to sing through a song in harmony. All the possible combinations took a long time, so by the time they put me together with Audrey Lavine and Nancy McCall, we had totally learned the song, and all the harmony parts.  

Something magical  happened when we hit that first chord in tight harmony. Though different as different could be, we had something special going on in the way our voices blended. The song jumped off the page as we swung into the chorus. I saw Mark and Stuart glance at each other; I knew we had the job.

Nancy and Audrey and I had not met before that afternoon; but from that moment on, we were constant colleagues. We had only a couple weeks to learn around 12 songs for the cabaret show.

And now, the show had a name, “Heebie Jeebies.”

It was a joy to sing the original Boswell arrangements of those great old standards and to navigate through those sensational three-part scat passages. There was one particularly testy scat section in “Everybody Loves My Baby.” We worked and worked, trying to nail down the chromatic inner harmony; at last we thought we had it, only to have Vet Boswell herself correct one note in one chord that made the whole thing jell. What a great musician she was, and her ear was perfect.  
 
The cabaret version of “Heebie Jeebies” was deemed successful, and we went on to do a full-length version that summer at the Berkshire Theatre  Festival in Stockbridge Mass. It took another year and a half to open in New York. There were lots of ups and downs along the way, but the sheer joy of performing the Boswell arrangements never diminished. It was an honor to be associated with their great legacy.

The story of these young girls is a multidimensional one, imperative from a musical  perspective, but from so many others as well. This is also a story of rugged  individualism and fierce adherence to a vision—despite their gender and the predetermined roles for white middle class females of the time. Consider their celebrity against the backdrop of the Great Depression, a  time when their youthfulness, energy, optimism, and fresh arrangements of old songs conveyed hope to their audiences. Their perfect harmony symbolized support and togetherness during hard  times, as their sisterhood helped them through family tragedy and loss. Finally, there is also the theme of great strength and determination conquering disability. All of these themes echo down through generations of their ancestors. Yet through all their trials and tribulations, the sisters forged ahead  for the love of their music—and established an enormously successful career in a very short time, as well as a well-deserved place in music history.

As  their ancestors before them, the Boswell Sisters were true pioneers. Young, brave, and strong, they came upon the new world of music in the early 1900s just as their families came upon the new world of America three-hundred years before. This new world of music was uniquely American, a melting pot of influences from all over the world—it was called jazz. And the Boswell Sisters’ important contribution to it and to virtually all other varieties of American popular music to follow needs to be noticed, understood, and honored at the highest levels of the music and entertainment cultures. This recognition is long overdue.

Just as his beloved Boswell Sisters, David McCain is originally from New Orleans. His research (much of which has been donated to several New Orleans institutions) into the history of harmony singing quickly led him to the Boswell Sisters’ musical genius. David was captivated by their sound, but needed more. He found himself full of questions that he determined only Vet Boswell could answer. After their meeting, a close friendship ensued until her death in 1988. His closeness with Vet’s family continues, and he is currently working with Kyla on the book, as well as other projects, to perpetuate and credit the highly influential Boswell Sound.

Helvetia (Vet) Boswell's granddaughter, Boswell Sisters biographer and caretaker of the Boswell family archives, Kyla Titus is currently working with the Historic New Orleans Collection on a Boswell Sisters exhibit entitled, "Shout Sister Shout: The Boswell Sisters of New Orleans" as well as with Joshua Tree Productions on their public television documentary entitled, "The Boswell Sisters: Close Harmony." The book, exhibit and documentary projects are all three slated for a 2014 release. Kyla, a former special educator, has devoted her time to helping further the awareness of the "World's Foremost Harmonists" and their innovative "Boswell Sound."

Vet "Chica" Boswell Jones Minnerly was musically gifted and a trained classical pianist, but she nevertheless chose a career in special education. Upon retiring, she, like her aunt Martha Boswell, moved to a farm in the New York countryside. She spent the rest of her life at her beloved farm, working to honor the music and lives of her famous mother and aunts. Chica passed away in 2010, leaving the Boswell family legacy to her only daughter, Kyla, to carry forward. Much of this legacy would have been lost had it not been for Chica's tireless efforts, and we are deeply grateful to her for her perseverance and preservation of this important history.