Al Cohn Memorial Jazz Collection at East Stroudsburg University of Pennsylvania

summer/
fall 2019
An Interview
with Johnny

Mandel

Urbie
green

Vol. 29 - No. 2

Issue 72

summer / fall 2 0 1 9

In This Issue
3

Note from the
A
Collection Coordinator
By Dr. Matt Vashlishan

4

ou Can’t Go To Heaven
Y
Till You’ve Been To Hell
By Su Terry

6

U rbie and Me
By Marvin Stamm



8
R emembering Urbie Green
By Dr. Larry Fisher
11
An Interview with Johnny
Mandel, Concerning
his Compositions
and Arrangements
for Hollywood Films,
Television, and Recordings
By Dr. Larry Fisher
15
merv Gold’s mouthpiece
From Bill Crow
18
Interview with Paul
Faulise on Urbie Green
By Matt Vashlishan

From The
Collection

Cover photo:
Urbie Green ©Burt
Goldblatt/CTSIMAGES

Editor
Matt Vashlishan, D.M.A.
Design and Production
Office of University Relations
Ideal Design Solutions

Al Cohn Memorial
Jazz Collection
Kemp Library
East Stroudsburg University
200 Prospect St.
East Stroudsburg, PA 18301
(570)422-3828
esu.edu/alcohncollection
esu.edu/jazzatesu

Center spread photo:
Tommy Mitchell, Urbie
Green, and Jerome
Richardson at a Ray Ellis
Recording Session
Photo by Al Stewart

24
Urbie at the cota
festival in 1983
Back cover photo:
Urbie Green ©Burt
Goldblatt/CTSIMAGES

3 0
R eaders,
Please Take Note

The Note contains some content that
may be considered offensive. Authors’
past recollections reflect attitudes of
the times and remain uncensored.

2 | the note | summer/fall 2019

Al Cohn (1925-1988)
The Al Cohn Memorial Jazz Collection was founded in 1988 by
Flo Cohn, Ralph Hughes, Phil Woods, Dr. Larry Fisher, ESU Vice
President for Development & Advancement Larry Naftulin, and
ESU President Dr. James Gilbert.

University President
Marcia G. Welsh, Ph.D.

23
Urbie tribute By Jim Pugh

25
An Interview with
Urbie Green
By Patrick Dorian

The Note is published twice a year by the Al Cohn Memorial
Jazz Collection, East Stroudsburg University of Pennsylvania,
as part of its educational outreach program.

The mission of the Al Cohn Memorial Jazz Collection is to
stimulate, enrich, and support research, teaching, learning,
and appreciation of all forms of jazz, particularly those
connected to the Pocono area of Pennsylvania. The ACMJC
is a distinctive archive built upon a unique and symbiotic
relationship between the Pocono Mountains jazz community
and East Stroudsburg University.
With the support of a world-wide network of jazz advocates,
the ACMJC seeks to promote the local and global history
of jazz by making its resources available and useful to
students, researchers, educators, musicians, historians,
journalists and jazz enthusiasts of all kinds, and to preserve
its holdings for future generations.
East Stroudsburg University of Pennsylvania is committed to equal
opportunity for its students, employees and applicants. The university
is committed to providing equal educational and employment rights
to all persons without regard to race, color, sex, religion, national
origin, age, disability, sexual orientation, gender identity or veteran’s
status. Each member of the university community has a right to study
and work in an environment free from any form of racial, ethnic, and
sexual discrimination including sexual harassment, sexual violence and
sexual assault. (Further information, including contact information,
can be found on the university’s website at esu.edu/titleix.)
In accordance with federal and state laws, the university will not
tolerate discrimination. This policy is placed in this document in
accordance with state and federal laws including Titles VI and VII of
the Civil Rights Act of 1964, Title IX of the Educational Amendments
of 1972, Sections 503 and 504 of the Rehabilitation Act of 1973, the
Americans with Disabilities Act of 1990, and the Civil Rights Act of
1991 as well as all applicable federal and state executive orders.

A Note from the

Collection Coordinator
Dr. Matt Vashlishan
Sunday, June 30th marked the closing of another year at
COTA Camp Jazz. The students sounded fantastic, and each
one grew in their own measurable way over the course of the
week. The faculty were in good spirits and happy with a job
well done. This year 16 students from near and far (Toronto!)
participated in the camp that was the brainchild of Pocono
jazz musicians Rick Chamberlain and Phil Woods. When Phil
met with all of us 12 years ago he envisioned creating a local
camp that recreated his
memories of the Ramblerny
camp of the 1960s held in
New Hope, Pennsylvania.
COTA Camp Jazz was born
and has been held nearly
annually since 2007.
It is my pleasure to host the camp participants at the Al Cohn
Memorial Collection for one afternoon session each year. I
show them around, play them some Al and Zoot (among other
things, this year we had a group digging in to some serious
Charlie Parker…), and let them loose for the better part of
90 minutes. It is interesting to observe such a well-behaved
group of kids take initiative to explore a place like the ACMJC.
It is easy to think each generation gets further removed from
what jazz really is and where it came from, yet year after year
I am amazed at the attentiveness and curiosity of younger
and younger generations who are legitimately interested in
this music. This is not limited to listening either. Everything
is fair game to the students, including photos, magazines,
back issues of The Note, posters, video, etc. Several express
interest in coming back to further explore what we have
here. It gives the music hope – the more we educate younger
people about what jazz is and how special it is, it insures a
future for musicians, historians, and hobbyists alike.

Camp Jazz checking out the photo wall
Photos by John Aveni

Jon Ballantyne gives his lunchtime
masterclass at the Deer Head Inn

While many issues of The Note have unfortunately
celebrated Pocono musicians that have passed away, this
issue is no different. A large portion of this issue is dedicated
to the trombonist Urbie Green, who lived in the Delaware
Water Gap for a very long time. He regularly participated

in the COTA Festival with his wife Kathy, and was perhaps
the greatest trombonist, period! This issue features content
by several contributors we don’t usually hear from, and a
few who have never written for the publication. I had an
absolute pleasure getting to know Marvin Stamm, Paul
Faulise, and Jim Pugh through their contributions and I hope
we can hear from them again in an upcoming issue.
Larry Fisher’s interview with Johnny Mandel serves as a
primer for things to come. The next issue will include Patrick
Dorian’s piece about Johnny Mandel receiving the Grammy
Trustees Award at the Grammy Music Legends Awards at the
Dolby Theater in Hollywood on May 11. Pat had advocated
for Johnny to receive this for three nomination cycles and
the Mandel family invited Pat & spouse Mary to the event
and then to Johnny’s home in Malibu. For the fourth year,
the ceremony was video recorded for PBS-TV’s Great
Performances series and will be broadcast throughout North
America in October or November. Make an autumnal note
to look through the PBS listings for “Great Performances:
GRAMMY Salute to Music Legends 2019.”
All of our readers will enjoy viewing video of Bob Dorough’s
posthumous award during the NEA Jazz Masters 2019
ceremony from the Kennedy Center in Washington, DC on
April 15. Also receiving the award were Maria Schneider,
Abdullah Ibrahim, and Stanley Crouch. Many jazz luminaries
performed and also an opera luminary! The video and a PDF
of the Playbill magazine from the event may be accessed
here:
https://www.arts.gov/lifetime-honors/nea-jazz-masters/2019-nea-jazzmasters-tribute-concert-webcast-archive
The video alone may be viewed by logging onto YouTube and
entering “2019 NEA Jazz Masters Tribute Concert Webcast
Archive” into the search box. Dorough-centric viewers will
be uplifted by a five-minute video about Bob recorded at the
Deer Head Inn in November featuring NEA Jazz Master Dave
Liebman, Bill Goodwin, Denny Carrig, and Patrick Dorian. It
is followed by a remarkable live performance of Bob’s music
and Patrick Dorian’s acceptance speech at the request of the
Dorough family. The official NEA photos of the celebratory
weekend may be viewed here:
https://www.arts.gov/2019-nea-jazz-masters-event-photos
Bob will be in our hearts on what would have been his
96th birthday on December 12. n
summer/fall 2019 | the note | 3

From the bridge

By Su Terry

Once In a While, ‘Round About Midnight, I’m in the Mood for Latin American literature. It is reading that
inevitably sparks the imagination. Imagination is funny: not only does it make a cloudy day sunny, but it also
leads one down untraveled pathways of the mind. The following piece resulted from reading “The Pursuer”
by Julio Cortázer, in which Johnny, the protagonist, is a thinly disguised Charlie Parker.

You Can’t Go To Heaven
till You’ve Been To Hell
“The marquesa, for example, thinks that Johnny’s afraid of poverty, without
knowing that the only thing Johnny can be afraid of is maybe not finding
the pork chop on the end of the fork when it happens he would like to eat
it, or not finding a bed when he’s sleepy, or a hundred dollars in his wallet
when it seems he ought to be the owner of a hundred dollars.” – from “The
Pursuer” by Julio Cortázar
What higher compliment can there be than to say, “I wish I’d written
this.” Realizing how incredibly brilliant Cortázar was, wishing I could be as
brilliant, hoping maybe I am as brilliant… but perhaps I’ve never shown it,
or if I have, I couldn’t let myself believe it. Because in the past there’ve been
times when I thought I was brilliant and it turned out I wasn’t.
Then I say to myself “why am I here,” like I used to say to myself thousands
of times back in the old days, before I figured out why I’m here. It’s a terrible
thing when Doubt returns – the Doubt you thought you had gotten rid of,
squashed, smashed to pieces and buried in a field somewhere, maybe in
your hometown, where you grew up.
I remember that gig I played with Bobby and Ingrid a few years ago, where
they were playing so far out and I didn’t know what I was doing and was
just trying to hang with the music. Afterwards Mike said “I never heard you
play better.” So it could be that “not knowing” is the secret. Except I suspect
“not knowing” is just the other side of “knowing,” and really they are the
same. Or that one turns into the other and back again with the ease of the
ouroboros eating its own tail.
Just at this moment, José barks in his sleep and I wonder where his mind
is, then I wonder where the hell mine is. You see, everything started to get
better when I started “knowing.” Knowing I’m just playing a game, a game
of being a human on Earth. (Of all the planets, in all the galaxies, in all the
universe, I walk into this one.) But now the “not knowing” is showing itself
again, like the dark side of the moon where supposedly there are secret
military bases – and probably a far-out bar like that one in Star Wars – that
you and I will never be told about except in the movies because our security
clearance level is too low.
4 | the note | summer/fall 2019

Su Terry Photo by Maria Marin

It’s that flipping of Knowing and Not
Knowing that disturbs me. It’s like a
flexible, metallic disc you got from a
Cracker Jack box when you were nine
years old, and the image on it changes as
you hold it in your hand and turn it this
way and that.
A few tears come, but they don’t fall
onto the page and prevent the pencil
from writing because the disc has already
flipped to the other side. The idea of the
human game returns. This idea always
gave me comfort in the past, but now I
am inside the disc of Knowing and Not
Knowing, flipping, or rather being flipped,
back and forth with a speed that prevents
my position from being fully documented.

they needed a preamble. A setup. Or perhaps the thought expressed by
those words was so frightening it had to be staved off until a suitable
cushion could be placed on the floor to fall upon in a faint, if not from simple
exhaustion. I’ve staved it off so well, now I scarcely remember it. No matter.
Soon enough, the mind’s matter will flip to anti-matter and it will all come
spilling out. When it does, how many half-finished manuscripts will be
torn up, only to be rescued by a visiting publisher who – as Duke did with
Billy Strayhorn’s sketch of “Take the A Train” – reaches into the trash can
and smooths out a wrinkled sheet, reading in stunned silence until finally
exclaiming, “Hey, this is great!”
All I know is (there’s that Knowing again, and this time it won’t surrender its
position) I’ve been in that place, that hell that a human built, and I can’t go
there anymore.
Ha ha. Nonsense. Everyone knows an Artist must visit Hell on a regular
basis. The trick is not to linger too long. And when you climb the stairs on
the way out – don’t look back. n

At this point I would like to invoke the
Heisenberg Principle, as if to inject some
authority into a rambling scenario. But I
can’t, because the Heisenberg Principle
comes from that other world – the world
I am trying to run away from but which
keeps insinuating itself into everything I
do. Yet, it is needed. As one needs a glass
of water, or a clean bed to lie down on at
the end of a dirty day.
At the end of the dirty day, which could be
today if I let it, I don’t go to bed because
Cortázar’s words are pursuing me. That’s
as it should be. In this world, everything
pursues everything else. The ouroboros
shows there is no difference between
pursuer and pursued, predator and prey.
Here we can have another disc! Another
conceptual disc to hold in the hand and
flex back and forth in the light, until it
gets so grimy with fingerprints we can no
longer read it.
I, the pursuer – or am I the pursued – come
to a point where a piece of writing must
be ended. It must be ended with a fine
sentence, a perfect sentence. In fact, it
can only be ended with the words that are,
actually, the first words I wanted to write.
But I couldn’t come right out with them,
summer/fall 2019 | the note | 5

Urbie
and Me
By Marvin Stamm

I arrived into New York (NY) in late November, 1966, and probably met Urbie
sometime in the early-to-mid part of 1967. I’m not sure of the exact date, but
it was sometime within that time frame.
I guess I should give a bit of background here. A week after I arrived in town, I
was fortunate to be invited to sub in the Thad Jones/Mel Lewis Jazz Orchestra,
and this would prove to be my entrée’ into the NY Jazz and studio scene. It
was early in Thad and Mel’s Village Vanguard tenure – maybe nine months
into their first year – and because it was such a unique happening at the time,
many players and arrangers came downtown to hear the band on Monday
nights. They knew all the guys in the band, except for me, the new face in
the trumpet section. So, through my subbing with the band, I became known
rather quickly on the scene and soon found myself with my heroes, the giants
of the New York music world.
I, of course, knew who Urbie Green was, but didn’t meet him until a few
months after I got to town, probably working together on a recording session.
6 | the note | summer/fall 2019

Urbie was one of the busiest musicians in
town, and he was everywhere, working
for everyone. Players in the NY studios in
those days were continually busy, running
from session to session, gig to gig. It was
a place all we young jazz players wanted
to go. There were great iconic recordings
being made through the 1950s and
1960s, and being accepted into the scene
was “living the dream.” Of course, Urbie
was well-ensconced and highly respected
by all of his colleagues. Everyone liked
Urbie, even those few players who had
competitive personalities regarding work.
Urbie was a good guy with never a bad
word about anyone.

While I don’t remember the details of our first meeting, I’m sure either he
or I would have introduced ourselves after having worked together once or
twice. Before coming to NY, I heard many times that the city was a cold place.
Nothing could be further from the truth in my experience, especially among
the musical community. If a newcomer was a nice person, a team player, and
showed respect to those who “had been there and done that,” the veterans
were very accepting of them. If the newcomer possessed these qualities, the
established musicians made sure that they were heard, either by passing lead
or solo parts so they could get their due. It was a generous community, and
Urbie exhibited that same generosity to both his colleagues and newcomers.
The first jazz gig I remember working with Urbie was a concert that pianist
Dick Hyman arranged, celebrating MacDougal Alley, the historic street he
lived on. The group included Urbie and Dick, saxophonist Phil Bodner, bassist
George Duvivier, drummer Teddy Sommers, and myself. It was a marvelous
evening spent listening to these fantastic musicians, and I was honored to be
included. They had all known and worked together for years, and the respect
and camaraderie were palpable.
In April, 1968, I was approached by composer and trumpeter John Carisi who
wanted to write an album for me. It was my first recording as a featured artist,
and, of course, John and I wanted the best players in the band. Having written
so much wonderful music, John knew everyone. As we chose the band, we
agreed we wanted Urbie to play lead trombone. Urbie was one of the most
flexible of lead and solo players; there seemed to be no setting in which he
wasn’t comfortable. Urbie was always about serving the music and the band,
and he performed John’s music beautifully.
Urbie asked me to join a sextet he was bringing into the Riverboat Café in the
Empire State Building for six weeks in January, 1969. It was an excellent group
that included pianist Dick Hyman, guitarist Howie Collins as well as bassist
Eddie Jones and drummer Gus Johnson, both well-known for their years in
the Basie Band. Kathy Preston, who would eventually become Urbie’s wife
of many years, sang vocals. It was a wonderfully swinging group, and it was a
pleasure to go to work every night.
A great benefit of this gig was our playing opposite the Bobby Hackett
group, featuring trombonist Vic Dickinson. Every intermission was
spent listening to one another. This was the fist time I had worked a
lengthy tenure with Urbie as a leader. Hearing him play night after night,

Marvin Stamm performing
with Thad Jones

always consistent in his musical approach,
was a lesson in musicality, exhibited by a
great teacher.
In 1974, Urbie asked me to be the trumpet
soloist on his album, “Urbie Green’s Big
Beautiful Band,” which featured so many
of NY’s best. It is a marvelous album that
displays Urbie’s talents brilliantly. But then
all of Urbie’s albums do!
I had so many musical moments listening
to Urbie play. He made a great impression
on me, and I learned much from him. He
was one of the nicest people and greatest
musicians ever, and I imagine anyone who
has listened to his music would be happy
to confirm this.
Over the years, Urbie and I worked
together on a lot of studio gigs. But in
preparing to write this article, I realized
something I’d never before thought
about. During those fantastic years of
making so much music, our friendships
and social lives revolved around our
working together, the respect and
friendship borne from out music. But
many of the players’ home lives were
private. While we worked in town,
most lived elsewhere – in Queens, on
Long Island, Westchester, or out in New
Jersey. They may have socialized with a
number of their colleagues, but over the
broad spectrum, their private lives were
their families.
I knew Urbie as a friend and working
partner, but he spoke little of his private life;
he kept this personal. I found Urbie to be
on the quiet side, never drawing attention
to himself, never into self-aggrandizement.
I never saw him any other way, just as a
nice person. While he possessed all the
confidence needed to play the way he did,
he was, in my eyes, a humble person. But
he was also one of the greatest musicians
and trombonists ever!
Knowing Urbie as a musician and colleague
for many years was such a privilege. I am
honored at having been a small part of
his music, and I treasure all the musical
moments we shared. Urbie Green was the
best of the best! n
summer/fall 2019 | the note | 7

Reme mb e r i n g

urbie green
By Dr. Larry Fisher

I first met Urbie Green after a performance at the Valley
Forge Music Fair, an in-the-round venue in Berwin, PA.
Benny Goodman was the headliner and was part of a series
of combo concerts he did between 1973 and 1975. I stopped
by the box office to buy tickets for my wife and me, but was
told it was sold out. “However,” the agent said, “we just had
2 tickets returned in the first row.” I said, “SOLD!”
At the time I did not know who else was in the performance,
but was delighted to find that Urbie was playing trombone
and Slam Stewart was the bass player. I don’t remember the
names of the other musicians, but they were all excellent.
Urbie lived in Delaware Water Gap, PA, so it was natural that
some of his friends came there to hear him. Benny left the
stage immediately after that performance, but Urbie stayed

Urbie Green
performing at
the COTA festival

8 | the note | summer/fall 2019

to talk to his friends. I joined the group and was pleased
to meet him and tell him how much I enjoyed his playing. I
never dreamed at this time that I would have the honor of
performing with him about a decade later. Fernwood Resort
in the Poconos booked the original cast of the Broadway
show, “Ain’t Misbehavin’,” which featured the music of Fats
Waller. I was asked to play tenor sax in the accompanying
band for a rehearsal and performances on November 10 &
11, 1984. When I arrived on stage, there was Urbie warming
up his trombone. It was a very memorable experience.
Another different type of musical encounter with Urbie
came on April 14, 1985 when Wolfgang Knittel, leader of the
Jazz Artists Repertory Orchestra (JARO), asked me to fill in at
the last minute for their regular tenor sax player who had a
conflict. Urbie was the soloist on arrangements he had made
famous on previously recorded albums. Wolfgang knew I
would be available to play since I booked the performance
as part of the ESU Jazz Concert Series and that I personally
introduced each event.
I was very privileged to have had opportunities to perform
with Urbie Green, considered by many knowledgeable
writers as the greatest of all jazz trombonists. n

With Urbie on trombone and his wife Kathy doing the vocals, the Green family made regular appearances at the annual Celebration of the Arts (COTA)
in Delaware Water Gap, PA. Additional musicians that appeared with the Green’s were Paul Rostock, Bass and Drummers Glenn Davis and Bob D’Aversa.

I feel fortunate to have been able to perform on many occasions with Urbie. Along with Kathy and Jesse we
appeared at the COTA fest, Deer Head Inn and other local venues. One of the highlights was joining Urbie, Jesse,
Glenn Davis and Chris Potter on the Royal Caribbean Jazz Cruise that resulted in a live recording titled “Sea Jam
Blues.” Although he could be rather quiet and laid back, you knew you were in the company of a master artist and
musician. He showed one generosity and respect on the bandstand and at the same time was far from shy and laid
back in his role as a leader and what he expected from his sidemen. A huge loss to his family, our community, and
the music world but thankfully we have his recordings to inspire future generations.
– Paul Rostock
summer/fall 2019 | the note | 9

A publicity photo of Urbie Green
autographed to “Al Cohn and
friends with love.”

10 | the note | summer/fall 2019

An I n terview with

Johnny Mandel,

Concerning his Compositions and Arrangements
for Hollywood Films, Television, and Recordings
By Dr. Larry Fisher

Research Chairman, International Association of Jazz Education
Photo: Larry Fisher at the ACMJC COTA display in 1988

This interview was presented at the annual conference of the IAJE in Long
Beach, CA in January of 2002. It was first published in IAJE’s Jazz Research
Proceedings Yearbook – Larry Fisher, Editor.
The amazing musical career of Johnny Mandel can be divided generally into
two major sections. The first part was spent as a performer on trombone and
bass trumpet and/or as an arranger for some of the finest groups of the big
band era. These bands included those of Buddy Rich, Georgie Auld, Alvino Rey,
Woody Herman, Terry Gibbs, Elliot Lawrence, Count Basie, Duke Ellington and
others. The second part began as the popularity of the big bands declined.
After World War II, Johnny did some arranging for the last of the major
network radio programs. He then transferred those skills to television in 1950
and wrote arrangements for musical segments on “Your Show of Shows”
staring Sid Caesar and Imogene Coca, which also featured Carl Reiner and Mel
Brooks. He wrote arrangements for Las Vegas casino shows, which included
the top vocalists of that era and eventually arranged and composed music for
Hollywood Films. Johnny won several Grammy awards for his popular songs
written for movies and arrangements he did for recordings with Shirley Horn,
Natalie Cole, Toots Theilemans, and Quincy Jones plus one for the music for
the movie, “I Want to Live!” His songs, “A Time for Love” and the “Theme
from M*A*S*H” received Academy Award nominations and he won an Oscar
for “The Shadow of Your Smile.”
This oral history is an edited transcription of the last part of our more than
two-hour telephone conversation on September 23, 1996. I sincerely thank
Mr. Mandel for sharing his time and his recollections with me.
Johnny Mandel: I moved to California intending to stay there at the beginning
of 1954 and played for six weeks with Duke and Jimmy Rowles. After that, I
knew I wasn’t going to play anymore. I haven’t picked up the horn since.
Larry Fisher: Is this the time that you began writing film scores?

JM: I didn’t do a movie for about four
years. I really did everything else first.
I wrote arrangements for many singers
including Peggy Lee, Andy Williams and
Frank Sinatra. I also wrote for many acts
that went to Las Vegas. I even worked
there for a while and basically did
everything musically that it took to write
for the movies. I really wasn’t interested
in doing movies until I reluctantly took on
the challenge. I soon discovered that my
previous experience with casino shows
was just like working with the visual effect
of dancers in Broadway shows. In New York
at WMGM I wrote for radio dramas and
had to make the music fit time intervals
that were predetermined down to the
second. When I got into the movies all of
the individual skills I developed had to be
used together and it felt totally natural.
The first movie I was involved in was in
1958. It was “I Want to Live!”
LF: What a great movie and a great way
to start.
JM: It was good, and I said, “Hey, I like this
kind of work.”
LF: How did the jazz music fit into the
whole scheme of the movie? How was it
put together?
summer/fall 2019 | the note | 11

JM: Actually, it was an interesting thing in the sense that we had a story that
would work with a jazz score, one of the few I’ve ever seen. The female lead
played by Susan Hayward was a jazz fan and loved Gerry Mulligan. Record
producer Jack Lewis was with United Artists at the time. He got hold of this
deal and called me to work on the movie. His plan for me was in two parts.
The first was to write the music for the film using a small group that included
Gerry Mulligan, Art Farmer, Bud Shank, Red Mitchell, Pete Jolly, Frank Rosolino
and Shelly Mann. I wrote all the tunes and arrangements. Later we wanted to
record another version of the movie score using a much bigger group. There
were no strings and it was like a large wind ensemble.
I knew that I could write this score using only jazz material and I did it using
traditional movie technique with the music all timed down to a 10th of a
second. Bending jazz music into the dramatic situations felt right because the
concept of the story was sound. I’ll say that it was the first all jazz movie
score, probably the only one, and it worked because the material was right
for it. I had people who wanted me to write jazz scores for other movies since
then but I have always declined. The scripts didn’t seem to be completely
compatible with jazz and I didn’t want it to sound like a shotgun wedding.
LF: What other movies were you involved in after “I Want To Live!”
JM: Next was “The Americanization of Emily” in, I believe 1963, and “The
Sandpiper” in 1964.
LF: What can you tell me that was new or special about these experiences?
JM: I really didn’t become a songwriter until this time. I had written lots of
instrumental music and never thought of myself as a songwriter, but I got
forced into writing a song which turned out to be “Emily.” They like the theme
music I wrote for “The Americanization of Emily” and I was asked to make a
song out of it. I said, “I don’t write lyrics, we need a lyricist.” They said, “OK,
who do you want.” I said, “let’s start at the top, get Johnny Mercer.” They
did and he wrote the words. “Emily” become a big hit largely because this
was back at a time when publishers were really earning their money with
aggressive promotion. As I said before, I never started off wanting to become
a songwriter, but I really enjoyed doing it. It wasn’t because of the money, but
more for the satisfaction and being able to work with some new great people.
The sound track music for “The Sand Piper” was my next project. The song
“The Shadow of Your Smile” had works written by Paul Webster, a wonderful
lyricist who also collaborated with me on “A Time for Love” from the movie
“An American Dream.” Both were nominated for Academy Awards, but I
received my Oscar for “The Shadow of Your Smile.” It also won a Grammy and
was voted “Song of the Year.”
LF: In what other movies did you become involved?
JM: There were many but not as significant at the box office as the ones
we just talked about. There was “Being There,” “The Verdict,” “Death Trap,”
“Point Blank,” “The Russians are Coming,” to name only a few. Then, of course,
there was “M*A*S*H.” The “Theme from M*A*S*H” is my biggest song, but it
certainly wasn’t my best effort.
LF: Would you consider “The Shadow of Your Smile” you best song writing effort?
12 | the note | summer/fall 2019

JM: I don’t know if it’s my favorite song.
“A Time for Love” might be a better song
or “Close Enough for Love” might be even
better. Who am I to say, every composer
has favorite songs that nobody has ever
heard of.
LF: There are very few people that have
never heard the “Theme from M*A*S*H”
due to the amazing popularity of the
television series. Please shed some light
on your involvement.
JM: I did a movie with Robert Altman in
1968 or 1969 titled “That Cold Day in
the Park.” It was a nice little movie out in
Vancouver and Bob and I had gotten along
very well. He was starting to work on the
movie, “M*A*S*H” and it was decided
that I would write the music. It was a very
funny screenplay and it looked like it was
going to be a great movie and a whole lot
of fun. We had no idea at that time that it
was going to be a big hit movie or that a
television show would be a spin off. There
was a section of the movie referred to as
“the last supper scene” where the dentist,
“the painless Pole,” was going to commit
suicide because he was unable to perform
sexually with a W.A.C. the night before.
He figured his life was over and had no
alternative than to do away with himself
because of this humiliation. This scene was
one of the first sequences we were going
to film. It’s nice when you can be on a
picture from the beginning. Bob and I were
sitting around having a few drinks several
days before they started shooting when he
said, “in this last super scene there’s a part
when they’re all filing around the coffin
dropping things in like a bottle of Scotch,
a Playboy magazine and other items to
help see this guy to the next world.” “It’s
kind of dead and we should have a song.”
“It should be the stupidest damn song you
ever heard.” I said, “Ok, I can do stupid.”
We sat in silence for a few minutes then
Bob said, “Suicide is Painless... that would
be a nice title for this.” I agreed. He said, “I
used to write lyrics and I’m going to take
it home and see what I can do with this.”
He came back a few days later and said,

“Look, I tried fooling around with that song but there’s too much up in
this 45-year-old computer, my brain, for me to write anything as stupid as
I really need.” I indicated that it was a shame and that I thought it was a
good idea. He said, however, that all was not lost. “I have a 14-year-old kid
with a guitar who is a total idiot and he’ll be able to run through this in 5
minutes.” Bob’s son, Michael Altman wrote the words to the entire song
and dummied it to a Leonard Cohen melody in a 6/8 meter. After I listened
to the tape repeatedly it was hard for me to get away from this melody, but I
used his lyrics and eventually wrote the familiar melody which for the movie
became “Suicide is Painless.” Later for the television series the words were
not used and it simply became known as the “Theme From M*A*S*H.” We
pre-recorded the song, which was common practice for a movie and the
next day did the filming with the actors mouthing the words. They liked
the tune so much that they also stuck it up front of the movie and under
the helicopters. I fought them on that and told them that it didn’t fit. They
said they liked it there and it would stay. I’m really glad I lost that fight. This
introduction carried over to the television series and became the biggest
hit I had.
LF: M*A*S*H reruns continue to be aired in the U.S. on many stations just
about every day and the same is probably true all over the world. Your music
has reached millions and millions of people.
JM: It’s just like the old adage, “Don’t throw anything away, it may become
a hit.” Many songs have fallen under this category. For instance, the song,
“Mona Lisa” was written for a terrible “C” movie titled “Captain Cary U.S.A..”
It was never thought to have potential or meant to be a hit song, but they
didn’t consider the artistry of Nat King Cole. His recording is a classic.
LF: You did arrangements for Natalie Cole’s album, “Unforgettable.” How
was her live singing combined with Nat’s recordings?
JM: We brought him back from the dead and produced the duets. We called
these techniques “necrophilia tricks.” Seriously, the concept originated with
Natalie. She did her act in nightclubs and included a segment of her father’s
songs. She got a film clip of Nat singing “Unforgettable” so they devised a
way to project the clip of Nat singing on a screen in the back of the stage
and Natalie sang along as a duet. This always got a real response from the
audience and it became the genesis for the recording and the video.
LF: Tell me about how the recording was put together.
JM: We used a three track ½ inch tape recorder that was originally designed
to record all those terrible singers in the 1950s. They were amateurs for the
most part taken right off of parking lots and the companies got records out
of them. The musicians in the bands backing them up loved these singers
because they were running up fantastic overtime until the singers were able
to record an acceptable product. The record companies started screaming
for new 3 track technology by which they could record the band in right and
left stereo and send them home. The middle track was reserved for these
schmucks and they would work with them until they got it right. That’s how
3 track recording originated. Anyway, back to Natalie and Nat. I thought it
would be best to use a 3 track recorder instead of 2 track stereo which would
have been tougher to deal with Nat’s singing and the band accompaniment.

Basically, we wanted to fish out his
voice and use it with Natalie and a new
accompaniment. In the days when Nat
was recording they didn’t use recording
booths. He was separated from the
band by screens or flats since there was
no ceiling. As we put the new recording
together we were able to get enough
volume on Nat’s voice so we could use
it, but the accompaniment would leak
through. I then had to write something
that wouldn’t conflict with what was
going on with the orchestra and the
parts he was singing. When Natalie was
singing by herself, I could write whatever
accompaniment I wanted because we
muted Nat’s track. When she sang to him,
duet style, we would open his track and
combine her live voice with his recorded
voice and my instrumental arrangements.
LF: That’s fascinating!
JM: It was, and quite eerie while we were
doing it. We couldn’t see into the booth
and it was like he was in there with her.
His voice would come over and we were
playing live. It was very moving when we
were doing it. Natalie’s mom was there
in the studio and she was falling apart, in
total tears. I didn’t expect it, but it was a
very emotional experience the first time
we did it.
LF: Do you have any other inside stories
you would be willing to talk about?
JM: Dave Grusin and I did a lot of writing
for Andy Williams when he had his real
good television show. Andy had great ears
and I used to try to challenge him and play
games with the music, but it was all in fun.
I’d write impossible-to-hear modulations
and stuff like that, but never once was
I able to throw him. I was sure I got him
on several occasions, but he essentially
said, “No you don’t” by always hitting it
right on the nose. He could hear anything
and he’s a very talented guy.
LF: I was always impressed with his big
sound and the clarity of his voice.
summer/fall 2019 | the note | 13

JM: He was a protégé of Kay Thompson, a singer and theater type. She
used to do an act and had the Williams Brothers in back of her when they
were little kids. Andy had the kind of training where he had to sing all those
hard-to-hear parts. That stayed with him throughout his career which is why
I was never able to throw him.
LF: Can you relate some advice to students who may be interested in a career
of writing music for TV or the movies?
JM: I wish I could say something positive. If I had a kid who wanted to go into
the business he would have to want to do it an awful lot because he’s going to
have to put up with an awful lot of crap. When I went into the business, I was
willing to put up with anything. It was very different then and there were a lot
more opportunities of course.
LF: Has the synthesizer, low budgets, and maybe greed changed things for
good?
JM: Yeah, but it’s also the executives and the people who are running the
business. If you look at the quality of the movies coming out it just really
stinks. It’s done by amateurs for the most part, not only the music, but the
movies themselves. There isn’t any know-how by someone who has been
doing it for 30 or 40 years like there used to be. It takes a long time to get
good.
LF: Are you saying that nothing beats paying your dues?
JM: Yeah, that’s how you learn, how you get good. It’s not by finding winning
formulas that will gross a lot of box office for a limited period of time until the
next fad comes along. That’s not what getting good is all about at all. Getting
good means falling on your ass and learning what to do, what not to do, what
works, what doesn’t work and why it doesn’t. It takes this process to become
a really well rounded talent. It’s not something you usually have from the
start unless you are going to be a “one trick pony” or something who hits it
once or twice and then is finished.
LF: When you were hired to do a film score were you in charge of what was
actually good?
JM: No film composer is totally in charge of anything.
LF: Then you have to put up with the editing of others?
JM: Oh, they try to make unwise changes and that is the main reason I don’t
want to do films anymore. There are too many amateurs cutting and pasting.
LF: So, if someone came to you with a proposal to do another film would you
consider it at all or just turn it down?
JM: It would have to be a very special situation.
LF: How about television?
JM: No, absolutely not.
LF: If you could do some things over again, what would they be?
14 | the note | summer/fall 2019

JM: I wouldn’t know where to begin, but
I’d get to know a lot of people much better
than I did. When you’re young you think
everything is going to be here forever. I
thought big bands would be forever, what
did I know?
LF: Big band music is forever in the
minds of people who love this music and
appreciate the talent and the culture
of those who created it. Mozart is also
forever, but it’s up to the music educators
to show the value of all kinds of quality
music to new generations. It doesn’t seem
to get any easier for us to accomplish this.
We are competing with overwhelming
marketing that is successfully selling trash
to connoisseurs of the inconsequential.
JM: I am very grateful for everything that
has happened to me as a result of being
in the music business. I was lucky and I
enjoyed every minute of it.
LF: Your career evolved into a beautiful
upward spiral that took you from one
challenge to the next. You built on past
experience, paid your dues, and wound up
enjoying each new level of the demands
made on your talent for composing
and arranging. Your success is highly
commendable. What are you working on
now and what are your future plans?
JM: I like songwriting a whole lot and it’s
very hard for me to write songs that are
not connected to something. The type of
songs I like to write are not bought by the
movies anymore so it’s mostly my own
stuff right now. I just want to make some
records of my own songs. I’d really like to
do big band arrangements again and some
large, nice, lush orchestra scores.
LF: Do you foresee a market for this?
JM: No, I’m just going to do it and then
worry about selling it later. If I worry about
selling it first, I don’t know that I’ll like what
I’ve done later. I’ve gotten to the point that
I’ll just do it and maybe somebody sooner
or later will want it. If they don’t, I’ll have
enjoyed doing it. I might as well do the
things I enjoy. If I don’t do it now, when am
I going to do it? n

Bill Crow - Zoot Fest 2011
Photo by Jim Sell

Merv
Gold's

mouthpiece
From
Bill Crow
Trombonist Merv Gold, who was much
addicted to sight gags, once took a hack saw
and cut the rim of a trombone mouthpiece
into a series of sharp teeth. He then had it
re-plated, and added the logo “SURE GRIP
COMFO-RIM” to the side of it. He got a lot
of laughs whenever he showed it to other
trombone players on gigs and record dates.
But when he showed it to Urbie Green,
Urbie just put it on his trombone,
played a lot of difficult phrases,
hit a couple of high notes and
handed it back to Merv, saying
with a straight face, “Not bad.”
summer/fall 2019 | the note | 15

Tommy Mitchell,
Urbie Green,
&Jerome Richardson

16 | the note | summer/fall 2019

Ray Ellis Recording Session
Photo by Al Stewart

summer/fall 2019 | the note | 17

An Interview with

Paul Faulise

Urbie and Paul outside
Urbie’s home in the
Delaware Water Gap

on Urbie Green
May 23, 2019

By Matt Vashlishan

[The following information was gathered from an interview
between Paul and Jack Schatz for the International Trombone
Association Journal, April 2009 Volume 27, No. 2]
In addition to being one of the nicest people I have had the
pleasure of speaking with, Paul Faulise is one of the greatest
bass trombonists in jazz and commercial music. I met Paul
through a suggestion by Marvin Stamm specifically for this
issue, and I will be honest I was not aware of him by name.
However, I was very aware in another way, in that I have
heard him time and time again on some very important jazz
recordings. Originally from Buffalo, NY, Paul can be heard
on recordings of Cannonball Adderley, Oliver Nelson, Oscar
Peterson, Art Farmer, Dizzy Gillespie, Jimmy Smith, Quincy
Jones, Benny Goodman, Frank Sinatra and others. He has
played on countless recordings for film, TV (the original
Tonight Show band), jingles, sountracks and more.
Many would consider Paul one of the greatest bass
trombonists ever. In 1987 and 1989, the New York Chapter of
the National Academy of Recording Arts and Sciences named
him, “Most Valuable Player.” Thanks to Marvin Stamm, Paul
was probably the best person to discuss the professional and
personal life of Urbie Green. You will appreciate his thoughts
and stories about Urbie, as well as some discussion about
himself and how he became the musician he is today. We
also meander to a few discussions about music in general
and other musicians whom are very significant to the ACMJC.
It was an absolute pleasure to speak with him.
Paul Faulise

Matt Vashlishan: Hi Paul, thank you for taking the time to
speak with me. How did you first meet Urbie?
Paul Faulise: I first heard him when he came through my
hometown of Buffalo, NY with Woody Herman’s Third Herd.
I went to see them, and it was the first time I had seen or
heard Urbie. He just blew me away! He was playing lead,
and splitting the jazz chair with Carl Fontana. The other
trombone player was his brother, Jack Green. Urbie played
all the lead and the ballad solos. He and Carl would switch
off playing the jazz, but Urbie was a jazz player from day
one. I’m not sure if you are aware, but he never had any
formal training.
MV: No, I didn’t know that…
PF: Yeah, no formal training, and I think it worked to his
benefit because he wasn’t confined to all the rigors that you
have to go through learning this stuff formally. He did say
he took two lessons in his life. One was with Will Bradley
(Wilbur Schwichtenberg) who I worked with on the Tonight
Show, and the other was Gordon Pulis. Gordon was the first
trombonist of the New York Philharmonic. Urbie said took
one hour each with them, just to get their ideas. That was
the only formal training he ever had, and it came later in life
after he was already working in NY professionally.
MV: More out of curiosity it seems.
PF: Yeah. His mother was a pianist and she made sure all her
boys learned how to play the piano. They had one trombone
in the house. His brother Al had it first, and then his other
brother Jack had it next. Then finally Urbie ended up with it.
There was always just that one trombone in the family. Of
course after Jack played it he bought a new trombone and
handed the family horn down to Urbie. He would listen and
play to the radio. He just started out playing jazz. But back
to when I first heard him with Woody, I just couldn’t believe
what he was doing!

18 | the note | summer/fall 2019

MV: How old do you think he was at the time?
PF: I would say he was probably in his late 20s.
MV: So he was already unbelievable in his 20s…
PF: He spent about 11 years on the road with different
bands. The next time I saw him was when I worked with
him on a Claus Ogerman recording session. There were only
three brass on it – I don’t recall why that was. It was Doc
Severinson, Urbie Green, and myself. After that I worked
maybe six or seven more times with him, and I guess he
liked what he heard because he asked me to go out on the
road with his band. It was a two-week tour and he asked if I
wanted to join the band.
MV: Which band was this?
PF: Oh it was just a road band – his road band. Under his
name, playing his music. Most of the music was from the
“Let’s Face the Music and Dance” album. What was so
amazing to me was that we couldn’t afford any stage crew,
and the first day Urbie was setting up all the stands, putting
the lights on, then passing out the music, all kinds of things.
While doing all these errands he hasn’t played one note. So
he calls up a set, and the first tune he plays is “Dinner for
one, please, James” that is this huge trombone feature, and
he just starts playing it like it’s nothing. He just picked up the
horn and there’s this gorgeous sound coming through the
horn. I couldn’t believe it. I was in such awe of him.
MV: It seems like everybody was, right? He was the trombone
player’s trombone player.
PF: He was, yes. Absolutely. You know I don’t think there
will ever be anyone that can do what he did and how he did
it. He’s the innovator. He taught everybody. One of the guys
who came close was Bill Watrous.
MV: It just seems like Urbie’s sound was so much more
refined. He could be playing what everybody else is playing
but there’s just that extra refinement to everything. It’s like
the top, top shelf version of everything in terms of sound,
taste, all of that.
PF: Well there will never, ever be another Urbie Green. I
worked extensively with him after that. We did three world
tours together with the Philip Morris Super Band. I ended
up being the first call bass trombone for a lot of things with
him, many different situations. When I walked in to all those
sessions, and the lead trombone chair was there empty I
would wonder to myself, “now who will it be.” Then when
Urbie walked in I would always breathe a sigh of relief! I
knew it was going to be a good session.
MV: Now you’ve always played bass trombone, but have you
ever played tenor trombone?

PF: Well actually yes. If you want a little of my background I
can tell you how I came to play the bass trombone.
MV: Yes of course!
PF: When I was in my first year of high school, maybe
fourteen years old, I was on the track team. I always make
the joke: I ran the 100-yard dash in a 90-yard gym! I was
doing the broad jump, and I tripped on the mat. Instead of
just falling down I tried to catch my balance and by the time
I caught my balance I was at the end of the gym and my face
went into the brick wall. I cracked my front tooth right in half
and it eventually had to come out and they put a bridge in
and all that. Before all this happened I was playing trumpet.
From nine-years-old right up to the point my face went into
the wall at 14. During all the dental work I was really having
trouble trying to play trumpet because it really requires a lot
of pressure and a small mouthpiece. My friends suggested
that I try the trombone, because it uses a larger mouthpiece
and there wouldn’t be so much pressure right on the
important spot. I took their advice, and I liked the trombone
so I stuck with it. In my senior year I heard George Roberts
playing with Stan Kenton and I said, “Wow, what a great
sound!” I convinced my parents to get me a bass trombone,
and stuck with it from that point on. So my senior year in
high school onward I was playing the bass trombone. I went
into the army and played with their symphony and all that.
When I first started to play probably around nine-years-old
it was during the big band era. On the trumpet my big hero
was Harry James. I was really into the trumpet.
MV: That’s so interesting that you started out on trumpet,
which was the loudest and highest admiring the guy that’s
way on top, and then you end up on the bottom.
PF: Well the funny thing is that on both trumpet and on
trombone I had a good low register. Somebody was trying
to tell me something! [laughs] It was a natural progression
I think.
MV: Well it’s a good thing you wacked your tooth then right?
Or you would be playing 4th trumpet your whole life!
PF: If I’d be playing it at all! It’s amazing all these little twists
and turns in life and how they pan out. At first they seem like
a tragedy, but they turn out to be the best thing. Not always,
but in my case yes.
MV: There must be a particular relationship between the
bass and lead trombone right?
PF: Oh yes.
MV: So concerning you and Urbie, that must have been a very
special thing, or a constantly growing type of relationship?
summer/fall 2019 | the note | 19

PF: Well I was working with all the great players. Buddy
Morrow, Warren Covington, Urbie, Frank Rehak and all these
different players would come in to play lead. I had to adjust
what I was doing to their style of playing. And of course,
Urbie was the easiest! He was just so musical. I always said
that working with Urbie was like taking a lesson. He was my
teacher and my mentor. All I had to do was listen to him and
follow all his nuances and try to match that gorgeous warm
sound that he always had. It was all a wonderful experience.
MV: I really think that is such a testament to what a player
Urbie was. When you hear it from someone like yourself
who was actually in the sections, who played with all of the
greatest trombone players and you can compare first hand
to how wonderful he was as a player in terms of sound,
phrasing, nuance, everything. And it’s nothing against any
of those other players, because they were ALL incredible.
PF: Oh yes, I was very fortunate to work with all of those
great players. They were all of the best trombone players
at that time. JJ Johnson, Kai Winding, Carl Fontana, Frank
Rosolino, I worked with all these guys.
MV: I’m curious about how he played the trombone. You
mentioned he had no formal training, so was it correct? Or
did he play the trombone unlike how others would play it?
PF: Oh yes it was very natural. He said he had an undershot
jaw so it pointed the trombone downward. He said he had
some dental work done to adjust that so that when he
played the trombone would be facing straight out. That’s
about the only change he made physically.
MV: But as far as embouchure goes or things like that it was
normal?
PF: Yes all of that was very natural. The thing with Urbie
is that he didn’t know that what he was doing, how he
was playing, that people just aren’t supposed to be able
to do that. At least to that point, nobody ever did it. Some
trombonists he listened to were Jack Jenney and Trummy
Young, Jack Teagarden – guys of that era who were active in
the 1930s. Those were the people that he emulated. Later
on he got into his own thing of course. He would just play
how he felt, and he was able to do it in the upper register
and all that with getting around up there. Usually Tommy
Dorsey and Glenn Miller would just play a beautiful ballad
in the upper register, but that’s all they did. They didn’t play
any nuance or do any tricks or anything. Urbie was able to
get all around the horn and do whatever he wanted. That’s
what set him apart from everybody else.
MV: This is all very interesting. What can you say about
Urbie as a person?
PF: Oh he was a gentleman. Very soft-spoken and not
20 | the note | summer/fall 2019

very talkative.
MV: What was it like when you were working with him in
that regard? Like when he was in charge as the bandleader.
PF: Well you know what he would do? Say you were in a
recording session, and at that time there were usually
four trombone players, practically on every single date.
He would be in the lead chair, and he would play the first
tune. Then he would pass the lead part on the second tune
down the section to give everybody a chance to be the lead
voice. Unless his name was on it, because in that time if a
particular arranger really wanted you to play the part they
would put your name at the top instead of “trombone 1”
or whatever the part might be. Urbie played lead on maybe
two tunes of each recording session and always passed the
others around. He didn’t want to hog the whole thing.
MV: Now that’s interesting.
PF: I think he thought that because he was the top call guy,
nobody else was getting a chance to play lead, and they
were of course, all very capable.
You know sometimes I was there and I saw one of those
parts where the arranger wrote his name, either “Urbie
Green” at the top instead of “Trombone 1” or things like
“Urbie Solo,” so I would take a pencil and mark “8va” over
the first measure so however high it was it looked like he
was supposed to play it an octave higher than that. And he
would do it!! He would start out actually playing it and the
arranger would go, “No, no, no!!!” [laughs]
MV: Yeah and I’m sure he did it with no problem whatsoever.
He seems like the type of musician that never had a weird
day, an off day, anything like that.
PF: Well not that I ever heard. And he has been through
things in his life, good and bad, and he never played or
behaved in a way that wasn’t absolutely professional.
MV: In this area, where he lived for a long time and new a
lot of people, it was always kind of known that he practiced
every day. Whether he was actively playing gigs or not, he
was always maintaining or working on something.
PF: Yes, and I still do too. I’m 87 and I’m still practice. It’s
habit really, you can’t get out of it.
MV: I would think it’s therapeutic at a certain point. I have
a question about a record here. Here at the collection I deal
with Al Cohn and Phil Woods and all of these guys.
PF: They were friends of mine too. I worked with Phil on
Quincy Jones’ band.
MV: Back in the 1950s?
PF: Well, it was yes the late 1950s and early 1960s.

MV: I have an Oliver Nelson record here, “Full Nelson.”
You’re on it with Urbie Green, Al Cohn, and Phil Woods
and Jerry Dodgion among others. All who have contributed
to our collection. What an ultimate band with all of these
people in one spot.
PF: Yeah it was a really great time for music. Actually the last
time I saw Phil was at Urbie’s 40th anniversary at his house.
I said, “Phil what are you doing?” And he started giving me
this whole itinerary of what he was doing and I said, “Phil!
How the heck can you do all this?” [laughs]
MV: I don’t know how he did it. Occasionally he would play
a quintet gig at the Deerhead Inn, and I did two of those
with him, so he and I were playing alto. And he’s sitting in a
chair with his lung problems as they were, and there I was,
probably in my early 30s at the time. Despite all his health
problems, he had without a doubt the biggest, loudest alto
sound of anyone I’ve ever heard. There I was less than half his
age in perfect health trying as hard as I could to even come
close to the sound he was making. I was probably doing all
the incorrect things, but I just remember that, how difficult
it was to hear him and then hear my puny sound coming out
by comparison. But you try and try and you just can’t get it
to anywhere near that level. I think that was surely the case
with trombone players in relation to Urbie. I also think these
qualities are a product of being so active in the 1950s and
1960s, playing with all those bands, standing next to Dizzy,
playing in all those big bands acoustically. All these guys, and
you included, learn and grow into these things. There were
only a handful of people that got this kind of opportunity.
Quincy’s band was probably one of Phil’s first major gigs.
Were you on that tour…
PF: No I wasn’t on the European tour, I joined the band right
after they got back. I joined when they went to Birdland,
Basin St East, we made a ton of recordings. There’s that one
bossa nova that Quincy wrote that was really famous - Soul
Bossa Nova, I did that. The way I started working with all
the jazz players was through Ernie Wilkins. I started out with
his band. He arranged for Tommy Dorsey and Harry James.
He did a bunch of recording with Oscar Peterson, Carmen
McRae, a whole bunch of people. It was one of the best
times of my life.

eventually they started cutting down, you know. They would
have two trumpets, two trombones, instead of four and four.
Urbie and I worked a lot when it was just two trombones.
MV: I think when you cut things down like that you lose the
whole point of the bass trombone, because then you have to
play up higher and deal with the other parts of the chords.
PF: That’s it. Yeah it was sad when everything started
to disappear.
MV: Do you know Jim Daniels? He’s another Pocono musician
out here.
PF: Oh yes he’s a fine bass trombone player. I didn’t really
know him, I might have met him one time but I know of him
for sure.
MV: I guess you wouldn’t see much of each other, both
playing bass trombone.
PF: That’s true, very rarely were there ever two bass
trombones on the same session.
MV: I think a real bass trombone player is rare. It’s hard to
find somebody that really has that vibe about it. There are
people that can play it and all, but when you hear the real
deal, it’s a whole other thing.
PF: Well that’s it. A lot of tenor trombone players would
double on bass, but there’s a huge difference as opposed to
someone who dedicated themselves to the bass trombone.
MV: Oh sure. It’s almost like it’s not a trombone anymore.
PF: Well you have to think very differently in the low register
and as the bottom of the section. You’re responsible for the
intonation because it all comes from the bottom.
MV: Have you ever found yourself having certain relationships
with any particular baritone sax players for that reason?
PF: Yes, oh yes. I worked with some for over 20 years. One in
particular was Sol Schlinger. We worked together and really
worked on trying to not get in each other’s way. You are very
aware of whoever is playing baritone. Sometimes you’re are
playing the same part, and other times you just have to be
aware of how you’re blending together down there.

MV: You all were so fortunate. You were right in the middle
of your career at probably the best possible time in history
for this type of music. There were different types of jazz
music happening, and there was still a commercial value to
it all. People were interested in it on a large scale, and it was
what was used for everything – TV, commercials, etc.

MV: It’s obvious you must have thought a lot about color
and getting into each other’s sound. For playing the level of
music you did the way you did I feel there must have been
some thought about this. I do think this is something that is
going away, how people think about what power they have
within the ensemble and these various relationships across
the sections.

PF: Most of the time I was playing with large groups, and
there were always four trombones. Sometimes five. But

PF: Yes he and I were very aware of our role together.
summer/fall 2019 | the note | 21

PF: One of the very first recordings I did was for Ernie
Wilkins and was four trombones and rhythm section. There
was NO place to hide!
Buddy Morrow, Urbie
Green, & Paul Faulise

Urbie and Paul in a
recording session

MV: Was this something you actually talked about? Or was it
more of an intellectual awareness?
PF: You just do it and try not to overshadow one another.
I have worked with certain baritone saxophone players
who just go in there and blow the hell out of the horn.
There’s no musicality to it - they are just playing notes.
Speaking of that, there’s another thing about Urbie that
relates to this. We were playing a session and there was
a new piece Urbie had to play a solo on. The arranger
was trying to explain to him how to play it and what he
had in mind. Urbie asked, “Well what are the lyrics at
that particular point?” Then it dawned on me. Urbie was
never just playing notes, he was playing lyrics. That’s how
intense he was about doing the right thing.
MV: Well the lyrics really have everything to do with phrasing.
If there are lyrics, that creates the whole point.
What about career wise? Did you have a relationship with
Urbie in that way or was it just professionally playing
together?
PF: Oh yes he helped me out a lot. He referred me for
things and all that. It does take a little bit of luck, but you
need people to be there and support you and help you
out. And when the chances come or luck happens you
have to be ready to handle it. Some people think if you get
recommended you just go in and you have the job. Not true!
When I first got into the commercial music business they
had contractors. They were usually violinists. I don’t know
why, but they were. When you first worked for a particular
contractor, they would come to the gig or session and sit
next to you and listen to you.

MV: Especially you on the bottom with a whole different
sound concept. I suppose you could try and make a case for
third trombone hiding or something, but not bass! You’re
just as exposed as the lead player.
PF: Yeah sometimes I would have a bass line or something
independent from the rest of the section, so definitely.
MV: This is all great information. Is there anything else you
would like to say about Urbie?
PF: Well, I’ve said it a thousand times but Urbie was just an
absolute one of a kind world-class musician. I would keep
in touch with him after he retired. I would say, “Urbie, you
doing any practicing?” And he would say, “Nah… I already
gave.” [laughs] He sure did! He sure did give! n

Little known facts
about U rb i e G re e n
During the 1950s and 60s, Urbie and
Frank Rehak were the busiest trombone
players in New York City.

Bobby Byrne, also a busy trombone
player, was a pilot. He was able to
convince Urbie and Frank to chip in
and purchase a used small airplane and
gave them flying lessons. The joke among
NY musicians was that all the NY trombone
players were going to chip in and buy an
anti-aircraft gun to shoot the plane down so
they could get more work!

MV: Really? To make sure you’re cool?
PF: Oh yeah. Talk about pressure! You’re recommended,
but they don’t know your playing.
MV: I guess there’s a lot on the line for them too. Especially
at that point in time.
PF: Of course. They don’t want to put someone on a
recording session that will mess up.
MV: Recordings at that time were much more crucial on an
individual level. Everybody had to get it right. It can be very
forgiving these days with all of the technology.
22 | the note | summer/fall 2019

As you know Urbie was a vegetarian.
However, before moving to the
Delaware Water Gap, he owned a
40-acre property in PA and raised Charolais
cattle. They are French cattle raised for
their beef. After a few years, he stopped
raising Charolais and sold the property to
the composer Alan Menken.

Urbie tribute
June 10, 2019

By Jim Pugh

Jim Pugh, Urbie Green, and Dr. Howard Horn
Photo Courtesy of Jim Pugh

Urbie Green and Jim Pugh

Story 1: New York and Catskill trombonist, Boris Malina, was in rehearsal with
a band that was to accompany (reportedly) singers, Steve Lawrence and Eydie
Gorme. After playing through one chart in which Boris had a ballad trombone
solo, the conductor told him to simply play the solo like Urbie Green. To which
Boris replied, “Schmuck! If I could play like Urbie Green, you think I’d be here?”
Story 2: A few musicians (mostly trombonists I’m sure) were chatting one day,
possibly at the union, possibly on a break? Among the group was the great bass
trombonist and section mate with Urbie for decades, Paul Faulise. The topic of
discussion at some point turned to Urbie and someone lamented the fact that
no one plays like that any more. Paul followed that observation with one of his
own, mentioning that “No one played like that THEN either!”
While these anecdotes are cute and clever, in a larger sense, they give some
idea of the respect and admiration felt for Urbie throughout the community
of musicians. There are other stories as well that show the breadth of his
impact: such as the time Antonio Carlos Jobim reportedly completely cancelled
a recording session without hearing a note when he walked in and saw that
Urbie, his favorite trombonist, wasn’t able to be there. Or the fact that Emory
Remington (of the Eastman School of Music and arguably the most important
classical trombone pedagog of the 20th century), when asked by his classical,
orchestral students where to go to hear the legato they should emulate (smooth,
connected playing), always told them to listen to Urbie Green.
In 1961 I was 11 years old, living in Atlanta, GA and had been playing trombone
for about a year. I needed to get my first pair of glasses and, post eye exam,
my mother and I went to a local optometrist to get the glasses. During the
obligatory chit chat, my mother mentioned to the person waiting on us that I
was a young trombonist. He told us that his brother was a trombone player in
New York and had a few records (“vinyl”, for you millennials!) out that we might
like. Well, the optometrist’s name was Bob Green and you can guess who his
brother was. We immediately got a copy of “The Persuasive Trombone of Urbie
Green” and the direction of my life changed.
My folks and I moved to western PA shortly after that and I grew up there in
a vibrant trombone/brass community (thanks to Matty and Eddie Shiner and
their dedicated teaching of young brass players) and Urbie influenced us all. I
remember him appearing at the annual MidEast music conference in Pittsburgh
in 1968 - our world came to a stand still because Urbie was coming to town.
There’s not a trombonist playing today who doesn’t owe a debt of gratitude
to Urbie for raising the bar on the trombone’s lyrical, expressive, technical,
fluidity and range ceiling. We are all his trombonistic descendants,

whether directly (through the luck of
timing and geography) or generationally
through teachers or hearing trombonists
who were influenced by his playing. In my
teaching studio at the University of Illinois
I have three pictures on the wall: Matty
Shiner (my teacher through middle school
and high school), Emory Remington (my
teacher through college) and Urbie (my
first and only trombone hero). I feel it’s
important for my students to understand
that nothing that I try to impart to them
happens in a vacuum, that on good days
the spirit, knowledge and influence of
these musicians is also in the room and we
hope they look down on us kindly.
Having had the great fortune of working and
playing with Urbie (always inspiring and never
for long enough) gave me the opportunity to
see the person he was and his humanity that
extended beyond music; his love of and pride
in his family; the graceful manner in which
he dealt with the business; the respectful
way he interacted with colleagues; his
consummate professionalism; his willingness
to aid and encourage young players either as
a visiting clinician or in professional settings;
and so on.
Admittedly I still suffer from a bad case of
hero worship. For all the times I sat beside
him in a section I never really got past the
awe of hearing the tone and articulation
that I grew up on and that had formed
my concept of an “ideal” trombone sound
coming from the man sitting next to me.
In the history of our instrument there
have been skilled technicians, lyrical
players, strong players with formidable
upper registers, gifted improvisers and
great players in any imaginable style.
Urbie was all of these things in a single
musician and pushed the boundaries in
every area. I remember one of his albums
(another word for “vinyl”) labeling him as
“America’s Greatest Trombonist”. In his
case, it actually wasn’t hyperbole. In 60
years (and counting) of playing, I have yet
to hear his equal. He gave us much to strive
for. Personally, I will always be grateful for
everything he showed and continues to
show me in my trombone life. n
summer/fall 2019 | the note | 23

Urbie and Kathy perform together

bone with
Urbie on trom

Urbie G

Tony Marino

on bass

reen pe

rformin
g

Urbie p

lays wh
ile

24 | the note | summer/fall 2019

his wife

Kathy s
ings

An I n t e rv i e w w ith

Urbie Green
Patrick Dorian

East Stroudsburg University | East Stroudsburg, Pennsylvania
This Interview was previously published in the IAJE Jazz
Research Papers 1993, Dr. Larry Fisher Editor.

From the 1940s to the 1990s, Urbie Green has been one
of the most influential trombonists in jazz and commercial
music. He was a member of Gene Krupa’s Band from 1947 to
1950 and Woody Herman’s Third Herd from 1951 to 1953.
His New York City recording studio career is legendary.
PAT DORIAN: I’m here in Urbie Green’s living room on
August 28, 1992, and I’m going to be talking to Mr. Green
about his career and music in general, especially as it
pertains to the trombone. Urbie, throughout your learning
process, who taught you the most, which people, and what
do you remember specifically that they taught you that
helped you out as a musician?
URBIE GREEN: Well, let’s see, that’s kind of a long
question. As you probably know, I didn’t really have real
formal training, I came from a family of five kids, and we
all started off on the piano, which our mother taught us to
play somewhat - she didn’t really play the piano very much
herself. That’s a long story, though, but anyway - and then
a trombone came into the family as a result of some time
we spent in California, and we brought that trombone
back to Mobile, Alabama, my hometown, and my two
older brothers played it before I did. They sort of just did
it on their own, also having some experience at the piano,
knowing how to read music, and then we got an Arban
book. That trombone was handed down to me by way of
my brother Jack, brother Al was the first one, so those were
my big influences on the trombone. In the beginning, my
two older brothers - and that was the time when the big
bands were making a lot of noise and people like Tommy
Dorsey, Jack Teagarden, Trummy Young, Lawrence Brown were big influences and I’m still trying to get around to who
was the biggest influence. I guess I’d have to say my brother
Al, for a long time, and then it was during World War II,

when I dropped out of high school, went on the road with
some bands, sort of learning as I worked. I played with
bands that were popular at that time, and, actually, I learned
from everybody. I was always the youngest kid in the band
and was always trying to learn from the older guys that had
been around longer and had probably been to New York and
studied with some of the teachers there. There’s one fellow in
particular, when I was with Frankie Carle’s band, and his name
was Clarence Willard. He had studied with Max Schlossberg
and he showed me a lot of those exercises that he had written
down by hand from when he had studied with him, and they
were very helpful to me in straightening out my embouchure.
Having started off with no real formal instruction, I had a
screwy-looking embouchure, and through these exercises and
pushing my lower jaw out a little more than I was normally
playing. This is an awfully long story!
PD: No, it’s good because we can condense it.
UG: I was able to even out my embouchure from lows to
highs. I used to kind of switch around - I had a different
embouchure for high notes than I did for low notes. Through
these exercises which were basically scales like two octaves
or more up and down twice or more, depending on how fast
you play and how much air you’ve got. So, like scales from
low to high, softly and staccato. We used to do that backstage
between shows. Back in those days the bands played a lot of
theaters, where you played four or five shows a day, and so
in between shows we would go down and practice. So that
was a big step forward for me. I think I was about 18 at that
time. I had already been on the road for about two years.
PD: You said that your brother Al was a major influence on
you, and I think it would be of interest to see what role family
members play in a musician’s development. Could you talk
about that?
summer/fall 2019 | the note | 25

UG: Well, Al was a child prodigy piano player. He played by ear
he just picked it up himself after our mother got him started. I
think he was about 12 years old when he used to have his own
radio program in Mobile, “Little Al Green.” I think it was every
Saturday, something like that, and I think when he got to be 17,
which would have made me about seven, we decided to make
a trip to California because the economy was so bad in Mobile
during the Depression days that we thought maybe going to
California things would be a little bit better. We’d take a look
around out there. So we headed for California in an old Model
A Ford, and my brother enrolled in Hollywood High School. It
was Hollywood, California, naturally, and he was playing piano
in a little jazz band made up of the students there. Earle Hagen
was the trombone player. He was the fellow who has done a
lot of writing in Hollywood and composed some nice pieces.
One of his most well known tunes is “Harlem Nocturne.” He
was a high school buddy of my brother’s. They were both 17
years old at the time, and my brother became interested in
the trombone. He bought Earle’s old trombone from him, I
think for two dollars, if I remember correctly, and at the end
of a year we decided to go back to Mobile.
When we got back there, my brother started playing some
jobs around Mobile on the trombone as well as the piano, and
he bought himself a new trombone and gave the old one to
my brother Jack, who was two years older than me. I played it
for a couple of years, started working around Mobile, and got
me a new trombone. I don’t know what ever happened to the
old one. It had a really terrible slide; you could hardly move it.
You had to hold it with your fist to make it go. Well, anyway,
we were talking about brother Al. He was the one who broke
the way into the music business, the first professional in the
family, and he had us listening to what were the right things
to be listening to at that time: the big band music, people
like Tommy Dorsey, Harry James, Benny Goodman, Benny
Goodman’s band, I guess that was a big influence on us back
then. He loved Teddy Wilson on the piano, who was with
Benny’s trio, my brother Al, I’m still talking about. Count Basie,
Duke Ellington bands, and brother Al’s music interpretation
was a big influence on me and my brother Jack too. He
was just a real natural hard-swinging trombone and piano
player. I always thought he sounded a little bit like Trummy
Young when he played the trombone, and he was very much
influenced by Teddy Wilson on the piano.
In those days the pop music of the day was a very highcaliber music. People were listening to songs like “All the
Things You Are” and “Sentimental Over You,” Tommy
Dorsey’s theme song, and all the great Duke Ellington tunes
like “Sophisticated Lady.” I would try to copy the trombone
solos to see if I could play like Jack Jenney. He was one of
my favorite players in those days when he would play with
Artie Shaw’s band, so I’d try to play his solo on “Star Dust.”
26 | the note | summer/fall 2019

Jack Teagarden too, I tried to see if I could do what he was
doing. I guess those were really great influences in the
early days of my trombone playing.
PD: Before you settled in New York, you had spent 11 years
on the road. What did you learn specifically that helped
your musical development while you were constantly
traveling?
UG: Well, I was just thinking that the experience before
I went on the road playing around my hometown was
very useful, and in later years the experience of playing
with some of the Dixieland bands down there in Mobile,
Alabama. That was a very popular music in those days
and it’s still popular. I mean it’s the kind of music that
will be around forever, I guess, in some form. A band
came through Mobile and offered me a job and I went on
the road. That was the beginning of 11 years of traveling
around with bands, so I guess that experience was my best
teacher. They were mostly swing-type bands. Bob Strong
was the first one. We went to the Roseland Ballroom in
New York. Then I went with Jan Savitt for a year and then
Frankie Carle for two years and then Gene Krupa for four
years and then I got to play with the band I always wanted
to play with: Woody Herman. I stayed with Woody for
three years until I finally settled down in New York.
During those 11 years I got to play with many fine
musicians, and along with that kind of playing we would
be on theater tours a big part of the time playing shows
in the movie houses. We would alternate with the movie like the movie would show for a couple of hours and then
we would go and do a stage show for an hour, and there
would be three or four acts that would be with the band,
so I got to play different kinds of music for those acts, like
Spanish music for a Spanish dance act, or a magician or
a dog act - it could be anything. They would just pass out
the music, so I got that kind of experience along with the
regular band music, which was very helpful for preparing
me to go into the New York studios, which I did in the
fall of 1954. With all that experience, I was pretty well
prepared to go right in there and it got real busy in a
hurry in the recording studios.
PD: With all of the types of music you would have to play
in the studio, was there anything else you felt that you
needed to study to be ready for anything?
UG: Well, after playing with mostly big jazz bands for about
11 years, besides the acts and shows, I always fell a little short
in the symphonic trombone playing part of music. When
I got to New York and started to do various kinds of work
around, I wanted to learn a little bit more about symphonic
interpretation. You know, when you play with a jazz band,
you don’t always play the music exactly like it’s written,

as when you’re playing eighth notes and sometimes they
sound more like six-eight or twelve-eight time, but they
generally write them as just eighth notes or dotted eighths
and sixteenths. Most arrangers don’t want to be bothered
putting in all that extra ink. I thought that there might be a
lot more to symphonic interpretation than I knew about, so
someone introduced me to Gordon Pulis, who was playing
principal trombone with the New York Philharmonic. It
turned out that Gordon was a lot more interested in learning
about playing jazz, so we would hang out, and rather than a
teacher-student relationship we just became good friends.
When I was playing a jazz job, he would come down and
spend the night listening. He wrote out the trombone
solo from Ravel’s “Bolero” for me and played it for me.
I had always thought that symphonic music was strictly a
mechanical approach to playing, but I found out that there
is a little interpretation that goes with that too. They told me
that Toscannini actually liked Tommy Dorsey’s interpretation
of the “Bolero” better than a lot of that guys that played
with the symphony. So Gordon eased my anxiety a little
bit about that part of music, and as a result I felt a little
more comfortable going in to do things like movie scores,
which in many cases were a symphonic kind of playing, and
even television commercials - you never knew what they
were going to throw at you; it could be any kind of music.
I guess I got a reputation as a guy who knew how to do it
all to some degree. I played on CBS staff for a year under
Alfredo Antoninni. He conducted the CBS Symphony during
live televised plays like “Playhouse 90” and “Studio 21.”
That was before they started putting everything on tape.
Sometimes they were small groups of musicians, but it was
all very symphonic kind of playing.
PD: How did you develop your particular style, in other
words, when people hear Urbie Green playing, what
elements add up to the entire end result - the Urbie Green
sound and style?
UG: That’s a rough question. I think I mentioned that the
earlier influences were people like Jack Teagarden, Trummy
Young, Tommy Dorsey, Jack Jenney, and then as time went
on in the late forties I became aware of Charlie Parker,
Dizzy Gillespie, Miles Davis, Lester Young. It’s difficult to
say; I don’t know what I sound like to other people, but if
I were listening to myself on a record I think that I would
see influences of all of those people I mentioned already
and somebody like Billy Butterfield, who I really loved a
lot, especially the way he played ballads. He played an old
Besson trumpet and he was just a beautiful player. He was
on that same record of “Star Dust” that Jack Jenney was
on with Artie Shaw. He’s the trumpet player that starts
the record. When I play I think that a little Charlie Parker
and Dizzy Gillespie comes out. The way I see my playing,

I don’t think I sound like bebop or any particular era. I like
to think of it as being a universal way of playing like you
could play with anyone. If I was playing with a bunch of
Dixieland guys, I would sound pretty much the same, or if
I was playing with a bunch of bebop guys, I’d still play kind
of the same way. It’s just music. A fellow like Zoot Sims was
like that, and Al Cohn was too. I don’t really put a label
on their style. It’s just music. I’d like to be in that category
where it’s just not a style that comes and goes. It’s kind
of a universal style. Good singers influenced me a lot, like
Bing Crosby and Louis Armstrong. Now Louis influenced
everybody, singers and players alike. I don’t know why I
didn’t mention him first! I like to have fun when I play, if
possible. If you’re playing with the right people, music can
be a lot of fun. To get too serious about it sometimes takes
away something from it. All of those things go into the
makeup of what I try to do.
PD: What recommendations do you have for young
musicians who want a career similar to yours? I know that
you play with a lot of college jazz ensembles. What do you
say when student musicians come up to you on a break or
an intermission or after a concert and want your advice?
UG: I’m not one of those people who lectures, but I like
to have rap sessions with the kids where they just talk
about what’s on their mind. They generally end up talking
about the profession and music in general rather than just
the trombone, because if you’re talking with a bunch of
musicians, most of them are not trombone players, so we
just talk about the business and the profession and music.
I like to point out that it’s important to listen to all kinds of
music, because if you become a professional, it’s not just
being a jazz player. If all you want to do is be a jazz player,
I’d say to listen to all the jazz records you can and have
jam sessions on a regular basis with kids that have the
same interests.
It’s very important to go back to the basics and do a lot of
research in the early days of jazz and see how it progressed
into what it is today. In a sense, music isn’t all that different
today than it was in the beginning. The notes are all the
same. If you go back to the early blues records, there
are still guys doing that same kind of thing today. With
different rhythms maybe, but it still seems like that old two
and four beat is still there, even in most kinds of jazz and
rock music. Play every day somehow if you are a player
rather than if you are a writer, composer, or arranger. If you
want to be a jazz player, try to set up regular jam sessions
and play as much as you can. That’s the fundamentals of it.
PD: Since you play frequently in Europe and tour the world
with groups such as the Phillip Morris Superband (directed
by Gene Harris), what do you feel is the state of jazz today?
summer/fall 2019 | the note | 27

UG: Well, from my point of view, I know that there are all
kinds of jazz out there today, anything you want to choose:
there’s a real free form and there are still the old traditional
Dixieland bands, the blues bands, the swing bands, and the
bebop bands. There are more kinds of music out there than
ever before, and there will probably be more in the future.
My main involvement is somewhere in the swing-bebopcontemporary jazz field. Contemporary, whatever that
means. I don’t even know what that means [laughs]. That’s
probably a wrong way to put it. The Phillip Morris Superband
that Gene Harris directs is made up of guys from the Duke
Ellington, Count Basie, Woody Herman bands and some of
the younger fellows coming up today. It seems like that is still
a very powerful music, received very well all over the world.
We went to Japan, the Philippines, Russia, Poland, Casablanca,
Cairo, and people love it everywhere. There’s no telling what
the future has in store for us.
There’s all kinds of experimenting going on all the time. With
all the different kinds of jazz that have developed over the
years, it seems like they all have that one thing in common of
a rhythm where you hear that two and four beat coming out
somehow. It’s a form of dance music still. If it’s something you
can dance to, whether it’s the old Charleston beat, Dixieland
music, or Michael Brecker and his electronics, or sambas from
Brazil, which is a form of jazz, it’s still got that finger-snapping
kind of a thing going. It all came from the African rhythms,
and all those European harmonies got mixed in there and
different cultures, but it’s still got that finger-snapping two
and four going no matter where it came from. There may
be some ultra-free music around that I’m not too into that
doesn’t have any kind of rhythm going, but for the most part
it’s all got some kind of swing beat going.
PD: Could you talk about the value of practice and how much
time you spend practicing as you prepare for certain situations
and how you organize your practice time?
UG: Practice is very important to me these days because I’m
home a lot. I’m not really out there playing every day like I
used to, so I have to practice in order to stay in shape to do
whatever comes along in the line of performing. I have a little
routine that I go through. I try to do it every day. It takes about
an hour and includes warming up, long tones, a combination
of long tones and lip slurs together where I just don’t hold out
one note at a time. I usually “lip” to another note in the same
breath so that I don’t fix my embouchure differently for every
note. That’s related to the old Schlossberg warm-up, which I
put in a little book I wrote a few years ago called “One Hour
A Day: A Technique and Embouchure Maintenance Method.”
It’s not always exactly the same routine. I change it around
somewhat to suit what my needs seem to be. It combines
long tones and lip slurs together. I do that for a while and
then scales, all these two-octave scales up and down.
28 | the note | summer/fall 2019

And generally holding the last note out for quite a while after
you get to the bottom note, or start at the top and go down
and back up and end on the top note; reverse it. I wrote all
that out in this little book for CJC, Creative Jazz Composers
(1977). I don’t know if they’re still distributing it or not. I
haven’t heard from them lately.
If it’s a jazz thing I’ve got coming up, I try to jam around the
house or play with some rhythm section records. We’ve got
some of the Aebersold records around. I usually don’t bother
to get them out, though. I got them from my kids. One of
the things that really helps to keep my lip strong is to play
ballads. It seems like ballad playing is a lot more demanding
on your endurance than just playing scales and things. Like
old Tommy Dorsey types of solos where you play the melody
in the high range, I think that those things will make you
stronger than anything else. To go out and play with that
Phillip Morris Superband, they put me on first trombone.
I played all the lead. I had to get ready for that, but it still
works. Another little thing that I do is that if I haven’t been
playing a lot, and I have to get ready for a concert on kind
of short notice, if I practice a lot, say two days before the
concert, like almost overdo it a little bit, then the next day
don’t play at all, and then go do the concert the third day.
Sometimes that will get me through if I’ve neglected to stay
in the shape I should have [laughs].
PD: So that’s one day of hard practice, don’t play the second
day, and then on the third day you have your performance?
UG: Yes, and regarding the playing of ballads during your
practice to keep your chops strong, it is a good idea if you
want to really interpret the ballad correctly if you know the
lyrics, because sometimes you may be taking a breath where
you are interrupting a sentence. It has got to have its poetic
value as well as its harmonic sense going. I don’t claim to
know the lyrics to every ballad I ever played. I wish I did know
them [laughs]. The benefit from playing the ballads as far as
your lip is concerned, if you’re in shape to play something like
Tommy Dorsey’s solo theme song “I’m Getting Sentimental
Over You” two times in a row, you’d be in pretty good shape.
PD: In terms of young people’s musical development from an
early age on, what are some of the more important aspects
that should be emphasized?
UG: Well, I think that one of the most important things of all
is that if the school that they are going to has a good music
program, and somebody that really knows the music profession
like you, like Pat Dorian. My two boys have played all through
junior high and high school, and with the East Stroudsburg
University bands: the concert bands, the marching bands,
and the jazz ensemble over at the university. Pat has really
exposed them to the best of jazz and the best of all other kinds
of music. That’s the best situation you can have. n

Th e 3 r d A n n u a l

Duke Ellington
Nutcracker Suite
r e t u r n s t o ESU !

Save the date for Saturday, December 7th
Featuring Edward Ellington and the Water Gap Jazz Orchestra
Tickets and more information will
be available at www.esu.edu/jazzatesu

summer/fall 2019 | the note | 29

Readers, please take note
The ACMJC and the Jazz Lounge
at Kemp Library

Visit esu.edu/jazzatesu to stay up to date on everything
happening at the Collection.
From jazz concerts on campus to Zoot Fest to Jazz Lounge
Lectures, any information will be available on this website.
We hope to see you at a future event!

ACMJC on WESS 90.3
Tune in to 90.3 FM WESS radio one Saturday a month to
hear Collection Coordinator Matt Vashlishan showcase
some of the unique recordings hidden in the ACMJC.
Visit esu.edu/jazzatesu for updates to the schedule

Deer Head Inn Jam Session Every
Thursday Night
Hosted by guitarist Bill Washer, bring your horn to jam at
the Deer Head Inn every Thursday night. Come hear the
house band (with Joe Michaels on bass and Tyler Dempsey
on drums).
Play a set at 8 p.m., then sit in from 9-11 p.m.
No music charge.

Big Band Night at the Deer Head Inn!
Join the Water Gap Jazz Orchestra under the direction of
Matt Vashlishan the last Monday of every month at the
Deer Head Inn for a great evening of big band jazz. Each
month the ensemble performs original and arranged
music from throughout jazz history, as well as performing
modern compositions by many internationally recognized
composers and arrangers, specifically works available in
the ACMJC: Phil Woods, Dick Cone, Al Cohn, and more!
Sets at 7:30 p.m. and 9 p.m., admission $10.
For more information visit www.deerheadinn.com

Pennsylvania Jazz Collective
PA Jazz focuses on improving the future through arts
education. The PA Jazz Collective is a Lehigh Valley
based 501 (c) 3 organization designed for educational
and charitable purposes and to specifically foster jazz
appreciation through a regular series of educational
initiatives, public performances, and special programs.
The ACMJC appreciates all of the help that PA Jazz
provides, and celebrates the unique partnership of jazz in
the Pocono area.
www.pajazzcollective.org

Contributors and
Acknowledgements
For additional information about contributors to this
issue of The Note, you can visit their websites:
Su Terry: www.suterry.com
David Liebman: www.davidliebman.com
Marvin Stamm: www.marvinstamm.com
Jim Pugh: www.jimpugh.net
Special thanks to: ESU President Marcia Welsh, Ph.D.,
director of university relations Brenda Friday, Ph.D., provost
Joanne Bruno, J.D., and dean of Kemp Library Jingfeng Xia,
Ph.D. for showing their continued support for the Al Cohn
Memorial Jazz Collection and providing the opportunity to
continue to present this publication; Ideal Design Solutions
for graphic design; the ESU Staff for making this publication
possible; Louise Sims for her ongoing support; all of the
people and families that have donated over the years to
make the ACMJC a success for 30 years!
30 | the note | summer/fall 2019

“A delight to read: bites of life from the quirky, zany mind of musician Su
Terry (no laymen left in the dark). She is an observer, a mixer, a tummler,
getting you into it, and over it. Learned (two syllables there) and welltraveled,
"A delight
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– pianist/singer/songwriter
Dorough

Terry (no laymen left in the dark). She is an observer, a mixer, a tummler,
“Su combines a few talents in one: hipster, comedian, and above all,
gettingobserver
you intoofit,life.
andBeing
over ait.good
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pianist/singer/songwriter
block Su
doesn’t
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either.
book
is fun to read.”
– saxophonist DaveLiebman
Bob Dorough
“The wisdom and wit, the intelligence and irreverence of Su Terry–highly
recommended!” – radio host and author Bob Bernotas, WNTI FM

"Su combines a few talents in one: hipster, comedian, and above all,
observer of life. Being a good jazz musician who has been around the
block doesn't hurt either. This book is fun to read." –saxophonist Dave

L e g en ds Live On
But not without
your support!

Representing all forms of Jazz
from all eras, the Al Cohn
Memorial Jazz Collection was
founded and named in honor
of the award-winning Al Cohn —
legendary saxophonist, arranger,
composer and conductor.
Housed in Kemp Library on the
campus of East Stroudsburg
University of Pennsylvania,
the collection consists of
jazz recordings, oral histories,
sheet music, photographs,
books, videos, original art and
memorabilia. The collection
also includes outreach programs.
Your financial support
of the collection is
crucial in helping promote
music education and preserving
the iconic jazz history of the
Pocono region.

Please make your gift by mail using the enclosed envelope
or online at www.esufoundation.org/supportalcohn
Be sure to designate your gift to the ACMJC. For personal assistance, call (800) 775-8975.

200 Prospect Street
East Stroudsburg, PA 18301-2999

Urbie Green