The NOTE
Al Cohn Memorial Jazz Collection at East Stroudsburg University of Pennsylvania • Fall / Winer 2015

MED FLORY PART 2 • BILL DOBBINS • SUE TERRY • COTA

The NOTE

In This Issue...

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

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4
6
12
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21
27
32
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A Note From the Collection Coordinator
by Matt Vashlishan
Phil In The Gap
by Phil Woods
Interview with Med Flory Part 2
by Bob Bush
From the Bridge
by Sue Terry
COTA Festival 2014
by Rick Chamberlain, photos by Bob Weidner
Reflections on Bob Dorough’s “Eulalia”
by Phil Mosley
Al Grey at ESU
by Guest Editor Patrick Dorian
Zoot Sims: a True Jazz Master
by Bill Dobbins
Straight Talk Part 2
by David Liebman
Contributors & Acknowledgements

From the Collection . . .

The NOTE
Vol. 25 - No. 1 - Issue 62
Fall/Winter 2015

The NOTE is published two times per year

by the Al Cohn Memorial Jazz Collection,
East Stroudsburg University of Pennsylvania,
as part of its educational outreach program.

Editor:

Matt Vashlishan, D.M.A.

Design/Layout:

Charles de Bourbon at BGAstudios.com
ESU Office of University Relations
________________________________

Al Cohn Memorial Jazz Collection
Kemp Library
East Stroudsburg University
200 Prospect St.
East Stroudsburg, PA 18301-2999

alcohncollection@esu.edu
(570) 422-3828
www.esu.edu/alcohncollection
East Stroudsburg University President
Marcia G. Welsh, Ph.D.

Dean of the Library
and University Collections:

Cover Photo (front): Al Grey performing with

plunger mute, ESU 1990. Photographed and donated by Bob Napoli.

Edward Owusu-Ansah, Ph.D.
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.
The ACMJC is a distinctive archive built upon a
unique and symbiotic relationship between the
Pocono Mountains jazz community
and East Stroudsburg University.

Centerfold Photo: Woody Herman 2nd
Herd, WOR New York Radio Broadcast
from the Commodore Hotel. Donated by
A. J. Julian.

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.

© 2015 Al Cohn Memorial Jazz Collection /
East Stroudsburg University
________________________________

Cover Photo (back): Al Cohn Performing at the
COTA Festival in 1985, photographer unknown.

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The NOTE • Fall / Winter 2015

Notice of non-discrimination: East Stroudsburg
University of Pennsylvania does not discriminate on the basis of race, color, national origin,
religion, sex, disability, age, sexual orientation,
gender identity or veteran’s status in its programs
and activities in accordance with applicable federal and state laws and regulations. The following
person has been designated to handle inquiries
regarding this policy: Director of Diversity/Ombudsperson, 200 Prospect Street, 115 Reibman Building, East Stroudsburg, PA 18301, 570-422-3656.

By Dr. Matt Vashlishan

I

The ACMJC online presence
is well underway in the form of a
searchable database including all
sound recordings that was begun
many years ago between Bob Bush
and Peter McAuliffe. We are working hard to put this database online
in the near future so everyone with
an Internet connection can see the
material we have here at the University, and hopefully come to listen to
everything in person!
Another project started years ago
is finally following through, and that
is the donation of Harold Karsten. In
December of 2014 (a month before
you are reading this), we will accept
the donation that Mr. Karsten left
in his will back around 2008. This
collection is quite substantial and
consists of LP’s, CD’s, books, magazines, and lots of it! I will be a great
opportunity to use someone’s extensive collection to augment the material here at the ACMJC.
We do, from time to time, receive
small donations from friends that
have been involved with the Collection over the years. Please notice the
centerfold spread in this issue of the
Woody Herman 2nd Herd. A.J. Julian
of the Woody Herman Society gave us
this wonderful photo, featuring one
of the greatest saxophone sections of

all time. Accompanying this photo
were several others that will no doubt
make it into future issues of The Note.
As hard as I try, occasionally
some details fall through the cracks.
One occurred during the editing of
the Brew Moore article from the last
issue. At the top of page 15, we added
Moore’s name after Jerry Lloyd’s
name, thus implying that Brew Moore
was the one driving the cab! That
paragraph is about Jerry Lloyd, who
played with Charlie Parker and drove
the cab.
It is also my pleasure to announce
that ESU Distinguished Professor
Emeritus of Music Patrick Dorian has
returned to The Note, this time as a
guest editor. Pat has helped me along
the way getting acquainted with the
Collection and it is great news that
he has chosen to continue offering his
expertise in this issue.
Lastly, I would like to thank everyone for the phone calls and emails,
and for the continued support of The
Note and the Collection. I love hearing the stories and am overwhelmed
at the amount of interest in The Note
and the concerts associated with the
Collection. On that topic, be sure to
check out the advertisement inside
the back cover of this issue for the
Phil Woods Saxophone Celebration. This concert is
sure to be a great
afternoon with
a rare chance to
spend some time
with Phil Woods,
and as always, this
concert will benefit
the Collection to
ensure I and
everyone at ESU
can continue to
bring you the great
music, stories,
and history that
is available in and
around the Pocono
Mountains, and
more importantly,
in The Note! Enjoy!

t seems like only yesterday when I
was writing my first Note from the
Collection Coordinator in my first
issue of The Note. Time has flown by
(they say it does when you’re having
fun, right?), and there have been several advancements at the ACMJC that
I am happy to tell you about. Coming
off the heels of a very successful Zoot
Fest, I am more optimistic than ever
for the Collection and the news that I
have to share.
Accompanying me in the photo
is Kelly Smith. She has joined
the Kemp Library Staff and
is an archivist for the Special
Collections at East Stroudsburg University, which of
course encompasses the Al
Cohn Memorial Jazz Collection. Kelly earned her Masters
of Library and Information
Science from the University of
Pittsburgh, and worked as a
Project Archivist at the Senator John Heinz History Center
as well as becoming a Dance
Heritage Coalition Fellow at
Jacob’s Pillow in Massachusetts. So far, we have been
working together to rearrange
and organize the Collection to
make it easier to access and to
eventually enable the Collection to be accessible online.
Matt Vashlishan and archivist Kelly Smith at the 2014 Zoot Fest.

John Herr

Fran Kaufman

A Note from the Collection Coordinator

Fall / Winter 2015 • The NOTE

U

3

Phil In the Gap

David Coulter

The Eternal Hostage

By Phil Woods

S

houlda called last column Pork
Chop Nil! The title for this column was given to me by Dr. Phil
Terman, dentist to the jazz world. Dr.
Tee has treated everyone from Duke
to Newk! The Good Doctor said most
jazz artists in America will be eternal
hostages.
Oh well, onward and upward!
This month we will explore those
times when my musical efforts never
saw the light of day. Like the Lena
Horne concert at Carnegie Hall with
Arthur Fiedler and the Boston Pops.
In the late 70’s I had the distinct honor of doing an album called “Lena-A
New Album” with arrangements by
Maestro Robert Farnon in London.
Producer Norman Schwartz was the
producer and he had the Hungarian
recipe for omelets – “First steal a dozen eggs.” He also called a Mel Torme
album “Mel-A New Album.” His
reasoning was that someone would
walk into a record store (whatever
happened to them?) and ask if they
had any new albums by these artists
and of course they would be sold the
“new” one even if it was 10 years old.
I fired Norman a few years later.
Anyway, we were at Keith Grant’s
Olympic Recording studio in Barnes
just outside of London with full
orchestra plus Gordon Beck on piano
(we had to fire the English pianist
who was originally hired because

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The NOTE • Fall / Winter 2015

Lena found him “inappropriate” as
she put it) and Lena and I in an isolation booth right next to each other. It
was one of the most thrilling musical
experiences of my life. I just had a
part with harmonic outlines with suggestions from Maestro Farnon. Lena
never went into the booth to listen to
playbacks. She told me she didn’t like
to hear herself and preferred sit and
knit and chat with me. So when she
was scheduled for the Carnegie Pops
concert she asked me if I would like
to do the gig. Guess my response? So
I picked up my kids Aimee and Garth
and took them to hear their Daddy
play in Carnegie Hall with the world’s
greatest singer conducted the world’s
worst conductor. Arthur Fiedler was
an ex-violinist who conducted like
a Dutch windmill in a category 10
tornado. Once again I was seated next
to Lena but was not given a music
stand or microphone. In fact Arthur
kept asking the producer, “Who is
that guy with sax sitting next to the
star and what is he doing there?”
After the concert I asked my kids how
they liked the concert. They said they
loved Lena but they couldn’t hear me
at all. Of course not – I was not given
a mike. Such events are humbling to
say the least.
And then there was the Kennedy
Center Honors Awards show for Benny Carter honoring the master and

my dear friend. David Sanborn and
I played the beautiful song Souvenir
that Mr. Carter wrote upon hearing
of the death of Johnny Hodges (news
travels fast from a dentist’s office).
David played the first half of the tune
and I played the bridge and last A section. Except when the show aired the
director/producer or someone with
perfect ears (no holes) left out the
bridge. David played the two A sections and when I came in and I played
a third A section. Truncation has its
place but this was ridiculous..
A sidebar:
Russell Procope could not do a
Las Vegas gig with the Duke so they
got the King, Benny Carter, who sat
next to Rabbit for two weeks and they
didn’t say a word to each other. I used
to think Mr. Hodges was rude after I
saw him at the Embers. I caught him
as he got off the bandstand and said
to him in my best collegiate manner,
“Hello Mr. Hodges. I’m Phil Woods
and just wanted to thank you for
your kind words about my work with
Quincy at the Newport Festival.”
He icily regarded me and snapped,
“I know who you are!” and turned
around and walked off. I asked Louis
Bellson what is it with the Rabbit? He
said Johnny was extremely shy and
disliked any chitchat with anyone.
And then there was the Grammy
Awards TV show honoring Quincy

Donated by Phil Woods

and Billy Joel and others. I was given couldn’t find “one!”
tooth. No more cherries but the tooth
a dressing room on the 6th floor
I have often wondered why my
comment is no longer an exaggerashared with some hip-hop group,
picture was not in evidence in the
tion and I will continue to regale the
and was called on to back up some
Deer Head Inn. Everybody else seems world with the Bird story.
girl singer with Bob James on piano.
to be represented. Well my son-in-law
Back in 1956 Donald Byrd and
When the show aired it went from
Rocky Streck found it on the third
I along with Art Taylor and Paul
the singer to a short solo from Bob
floor behind some kind of bush. My
Chambers recorded with Bud Powand then back to the singer. I was not life is complete now. Also shown are
ell at Birdland for Roulette Records.
seen but you could sort of hear me on my band mates Bill Goodwin and
Donald and were looking for this
the last note.
Steve Gilmore who are original memalbum for years. Well the Japanese
In 1980 Pat Williams asked me
bers along with Brian Lynch and Bill
company Marshmallow Record has
to back up Diana
finally issued
Ross on the title
this in limited
song of the movie
edition. Only
“It’s My Turn.”
four tunes
My buddy Joe
but Bud and
Lopes was in the
Donald sound
booth while I
great. I sound
was working and
young and
he told me the
nervous. Too
engineer thought
bad Donald
I was a terrible
died without
choice for the
hearing it. I
saxophone solo.
loved Byrd. We
When the movie
made a record
came out the sax
called “Young
solo was omitted.
Bloods” back
Me! The guy who
before Vasemade Billy Joel a
line and every
star. I don’t get
time we saw
no respect!
each other we
A few years
talked about
back I did the
doing a follow
Dave Letterup and callman show with
ing it “Tired
Quincy and a big
Bloods.” I miss
band doing his
him.
The Phil Woods Quintet performing at the Deerhead Inn, Delaware Water Gap PA.
then re-discovI did a
ered hit “Soul
gig with Lee
Bossa Nova”. We
Morgan back
rehearsed it a couple of times with
Charlap. I have included this photo to in the day and picked him up in
Q up front. He counted it off and the
save you climbing three flights. Looks Philly for the drive to Baltimore. We
intro was played by a cuica, a Brazillike it was done with a Kodak Brown- stopped for gas and they wouldn’t let
ian friction drum with a large pitch
ie. That’s me behind the bush. Just an us use the toilet, but took the money
range produced by changing the teneternal hostage on the third floor.
for the gas.
sion on the head of the hand-drum.
Gradually my improv powers are
But when we did the tune for the
Charlie Parker gave me a piece
declining along with my breathing.
show Q decided to count the tempo
of cherry pie when I saw him at the
The thing that bothers me most will
off as he entered from backstage. Half Three Deuces in 1947. People, espebe the inability to play the Ameriof the band did not hear the count-off cially some journalists, have said it is
can songbook that Harvey LaRose
and the cuica was virtually inaudible.
my only jazz story and I should stop
instilled in me when I was fourteen.
The band all came in at different
telling it. If they had a Pastie with
How will I ever survive without the
places and the leader of the house
Shakespeare would they not tell the
joy of playing Gershwin? Arlen? Elband, Paul Schafer was waving his
story a few times? Another cliché I
lington?
arms frantically - why I never knew.
overuse is telling people that when
The sax is like a bat – it flies betIt was a metric nightmare! We had to
I get up I brush my tooth. I used to
ter at night.
stay after school and redo the tune.
have two teeth but lied. Recently I
Up, up and away!
Crackerjack New York band and we
was eating some cherries and broke a

U

Fall / Winter 2015 • The NOTE

5

From The ACMJC Oral History Project
Interview
with Med Flory
Part 2

Charles Perry Hebard

[BB] That’s the one that you played on and you sang on, too.

By Bob Bush, August 12, 2010
[Med Flory] I never thought about living in New
York. I always wanted to move to L.A… Hollywood! You
know I figure if Alfalfa could make it, how hard could it
be?

[Bob Bush] What’s Ray Anthony’s band about? Tell me all
about that.

[MF] Well Ray was just a terrible cat back in those
days. Ugh, I don’t want to go into it. That was an ugly
thing.
[BB] Well you were on this for a pretty long time, right?

[MF] Yeah, about three years or something like
that. And one time, Joanie - they didn’t get along at all,
and Joanie said, “Here comes Mighty Mouse” you know.
[laughs] The short little devil.

So when we got out here, I hadn’t worked with Ray
for years until I got a call. And he’s a different cat! You
know, he’s nice! So I’m all like, “What the hell happened
to you?!” And he says, “Well I got out here and nobody
needed to work. So in order to get them to work for me,
I had to be a good guy. So I tried it!”
[BB] [laughs]

[MF] You know he played good. He’s playing good
right now, he’s about 89, right?

[BB] You played with the Ray Anthony Orchestra on the road
and did you also do TV work with him?
[MF] Yeah, the Plymouth Show.

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The NOTE • Fall / Winter 2015

[MF] Yeah. We did thirty weeks of that. Not much
TV after that, a few things you know, but mostly the
Palladium, we did the Palladium a lot. I was going okay,
you know. Joanie was saying we worked with Alex Golden who hired Jim Durante. Before a gig, Jimmy came in
and he piano and we’d played together, you know. Greatest cat in the world, man. He played that old jazz. Not
ragtime, but it was jazz. It was old timey jazz, and it was
great to hear him. Anyway, Al Golden is a great cat, and
Joanie and I worked with him two nights a week. With
both of us doing it and whatever else I could pick up, we
got along. We got amazing.
[BB] Clear something up for me, because I did some research on
the Ray Anthony band. It listed the piano player as John Williams,
now is it the same as the composer John Williams?
[MF] No.

[BB] Was there a John Williams on the piano there?

[MF] Well, there could have been another John Williams, but not while I was playing with him.
[BB] The “Star Wars” John Williams?
[MF] Yeah!

[BB] Okay. When did you form your first band out on the West
Coast?
[MF] In 1956.

[BB] So right after you got out there.
[MF] Yeah.

[BB] Tell me about that.

[MF] Well, in 1958 we played the first Monterey
Jazz Festival with the Jazz Wave. We recorded the
summer before, and the album came out and we got
the Monterey Festival and we killed it, you know. We
had Mel Luis and Buddy Clark and Russ Freeman in
the rhythm section. The trumpets were Al Porcino and
Ray Triscari… just a great, great band! And on saxes
were me, Charlie Kennedy, Bill Holman, and Bill Hood.
You know, good band. Of course the critics from San
Francisco thought we were a bunch of ruffians. [laughs]
That’s what they called us: “A bunch of ruffians.” Because they’re used to playing that… I don’t know what
they do in that little town, man.
[BB] What was the first Monterey Festival like? I mean, much

[MF] Well, Dizzy [Gillespie] was there and he
played with us, so it was pretty good.
[BB] I guess!

[MF] Yeah, and Joanie sang and she had a great
leopard skin outfit. We met Sandy Koufax and that was
a biggie.
[BB] Oh, that’s a thrill.

[MF] Yeah, he was there with Gene Norman. He
hadn’t taken over yet, but it was right around the—
[BB] No, not around 1958.

[MF] I played the next
year playing baritone with
Woody [Herman]. Ornette
Coleman was on the thing
with Don Cherry playing his
pocket trumpet. I didn’t tell
him anything, but at the time
I was thinking “I have a better place for him to stick that
trumpet than in his pocket!”
[BB] [laughs]

[MF] And Ornette, I
couldn’t figure him out, but
I guess that he was okay. All
I cared about was Bird. Bird
and Dizzy and Bud and Max.
When Miles Davis came on—I
had a good name for Miles:
“Miles Doofus.”
[BB] [laughs] No…

[MF] That’s what I’m
gonna call him from now on…
Well how old are you?
[BB] I’m 58.

[MF] Yeah, you’re too
young to have been there
when the records were com- Med Flory, NYC 1954
ing out with Dizzy and Bird,
and we’d buy them. And then we buy this one and it’s
Bird and “Who is this idiot that’s trying to play with
Bird?” And it was… “Miles Doofus,” going “da da da
da,” and the guy had chops! I think that’s the biggest
miscarriage in the history of jazz is Miles Davis, joining that rarified group of the great be-boppers, you
know. Back in 1949 when he did the “The Squirrel”
and “Move,” that’s the best bebop he’s ever played, you
remember those?
[BB] No I don’t…

[MF] Well, he played real bebop there. But then
he met Gil Evans, and it made him sound like he knew
what he was doing, you know if you have Gil writing for
you! But still he would clam every third note and get
away with it! I remember thinking, “why did they let
this guy do that?” But all that is my opinion, you know.

[BB] I know how much you admired Bird; when did the Supersax concept start to crystalize for you?

[MF] Well Rex was just a baby and Joe Maini (Joe
was a GREAT jazz alto player, absolutely top flight)
came over with a friend and they had an old record
player and a bunch of albums. It was hot so I gave them
50 bucks for it. Bud Powell’s “Moods” was on there,
and “Blues For Alice.” Then I did “Star Eyes” and “Just
Friends.” So we used to rehearse them, with Joe Maini
and Charlie Kennedy on altos, me and Richie Kamuca
on tenors, and Bill Hood on baritone. Then we played
together and we played decent, and finally one day we
recorded “Just Friends”. It
sounded pretty good!
Years later, we’re working at the Crescendo with
the Dave Pell octet. Buddy
came over here after the gig
and he says, “Hey play that
tape of the saxes,” So I did.
He said, “Boy, it’d be great
to have a band doing that!” I
said, “Yeah, but who was going to write it?” I was writing a movie script at the time
that I still haven’t sold, but
he said he would like to try
it so I showed him how to do
it. He wrote some, and he’d
write it all in the wrong order, so I said “No, you gotta
write like on your hand, you
know, alto, alto, tenor, tenor,
bari. The baritone is playing the same thing as the
lead and it’s all in one octave
because the most important
thing is what Bird is doing,
not what you’re doing to embellish him; he doesn’t need
none of that!”
Courtesy of Bill Scott

smaller scale than now, of course.

So he started doing it
and he started writing like
crazy, man, and he wrote
good stuff! He was writing more than I was, so Joanie
called up a place and got us a gig. She said, “Hey! Get
this band—get them away—they’ve been over here
rehearsing—they’re driving me nuts!” So we went in
on a Monday night and the place was packed and we
started off with “Parker’s Mood” and we played those
first chords and everybody started laughing and jumping and screaming and clapping like crazy and Buddy
and I looked at each other like, “Who knew for Christ’s
sake?” We were playing Charlie Parker… nobody was
doing anything like that.
[BB] Oh yeah? It really is a unique idea.

[MF] Yeah and I kept telling him, “It’s gonna be
a hundred years before they get out of the shadow of
Bird,” you know. But anyway, we ended up getting
signed for a three album deal with Capitol Records.

Fall / Winter 2015 • The NOTE

7

[BB] Is this still in the late 50s?

[MF] No, no. This was in ‘72. Well it came out in
‘73, so we won a Grammy for the best jazz group in ‘73
and we got nominated the next two years, but didn’t
win.

[BB] Let me just say for the record, to make sure I got it right.
You really started with Joe Maini back in the early 1950s with the
concept of Supersax?
[MF] Yeah, and then Joe died.
[BB] He died around ‘64, I think.

[MF] Yeah, something like that.
[BB] So what happened then?

[MF] Then we forgot about it. We didn’t want to
do it without Joe. There wasn’t much of a point. So we
didn’t do anything more for a while. And then I was
playing with Terry’s band, Terry Gibbs, which was very
interesting…

[BB] Well we didn’t talk very much about that. What’s the
time frame around that?
[MF] 1958, somewhere
around there I started. About
that time I wrote “Back Bay
Shuffle.” And I wrote a few
others, and Terry did a lot of
that stuff.

[BB] You were an important
part of that band.

[MF] Ha, well here’s what
happened, man, we played
the Festival and then we come
back to town and then Terry
comes to town with a quartet,
you know. Well he hears the
band, the Jazz Wave. And so
he’s saying blah-blah we should
get a big band. So like an idiot,
I let him use some of my charts.
I’ll never do that again!
[BB] [laughs]

[MF] Because there was no
more “Med Flory’s Jazz Wave,” it was Terry Gibbs. Now
I don’t blame Terry… he what any evil little… No! I’m
just kiddin’. I dig Terry.
[BB] [laughs]

[MF] Even what after what he did to me. No he
didn’t do anything to me; it was a natural for him. Then
I get a gig playing the same joint and he told anybody
that plays on his band is not playing on my band anymore.
[BB] Well, there’s some great music came out of Terry’s Dream
Band. I’m sure you had a large part to do with that.
[MF] Well, half of the book was mine if that counts
for anything.
[BB] Counts a lot.

[MF] Yeah. But, that’s the way it goes. I’ve made a

8

The NOTE • Fall / Winter 2015

lot of dumber mistakes than that!

[BB] Fill in the gap for me between the time that Joe Maini
died and 1972 when Supersax was revived. You went off and did
completely different stuff, right?

[MF] Yeah, I would work with different bands;
Terry’s band, writing and stuff, you know, and I was acting there, too.
[BB] Well that’s what I mean. You actually went off to become
an actor in films and TV. Tell me about that part.

[MF] Well in August of 1960, something like that,
I’m home on a Saturday night and I wasn’t working
and was really bugged. I was watching TV and there
was some actor on there just chopping it to pieces
and I thought “man look at that I can do better than
that, what’s that guy doing trying to act!” And then
Joanie says, “well I know Lorne Greene, I studied with
him in Toronto. I bet if I talked to him…” So she goes
down to the Paramount lot, I’m playing tennis and I
get back home and Joanie’s on the phone and she says
“I’m bringing Lorne home
for some drinks, get some
scotch!” And I had no money
at all! My friend of mine, he
had five dollars. So we bought
a half a pint of scotch and
some mix and when Lorne
got there in his 320 SL, the
cherry red thing with the bat
wing doors, every kid in the
neighborhood is climbing all
over him. So he comes in,
he’s a great cat, just salt of
the earth. And we give him
a drink, give him a real one,
you know. And Joanie said,
“Well don’t you think Med
would be good in TV?” He
says, “I don’t know, I’ve
been trying to get friends
of my own into the business for years and it doesn’t
seem to work out. What
have you done?” I said, “Well nothing on film,
just local stuff like General Hospital and stuff like that.”
[BB] You mean soap opera kind of things?
[MF] Yeah.

[BB] You did those?

[MF] Yeah, I did a couple of them.
[BB] Back in New York?
[MF] No, out here.
[BB] Oh.

[MF] Local out here before it went on network, it
was a Hollywood show. So we were hangin’ out, having fun. I’ll tell you, the two guys that I would go to the
most, if I needed advice, one would be Woody and the
other would—would be, uh, would be him.
[BB] Lorne Greene.

[MF] Yeah.

[BB] And Cartwright.

[MF] Absolutely great guy, he did a lot for me, man.
I need 500 bucks, I’d give it back to him right away, but
when I needed it, boy he was there with it. He was a
real, real friend. Anyway, a week later he says, “Uh Med,
this is Lorne. Come on down to the blablabla”, so I went
down there and met Bill Mayberry, the casting director,
and he sent me to a guy named Paul Wilkins, who was
an agent. So we went over to the agent and I cold-read
something and he said, “Look I got this actor of mine to
take over this good part in ‘Lawman,’ it’s a title role, but
he’s out of town. You wanna go over it? Take a shot at
it?” I said, “sure.” So we went over there and the director was Marc Lawrence. Do you know who that is?
[BB] No I don’t.

[MF] Remember “The Asphalt Jungle,” that movie?
[BB] Yes.

pened One Christmas.” And I played the bartender,
Nick the Bartender.

[BB] That was the Sheldon Leonard role, right? In the old
movie?
[MF] Yeah.

[BB] Yeah. That’s a great role.

[MF] Mm-hmm. And I did it up man, tougher than
Sheldon could ever be, you know? [laughs]

[BB] [laughs] Well you had to throw someone out of the bar,
didn’t you or something?
[MF] Huh?

[BB] Well Jimmy Stewart gets thrown out of the bar.

[MF] Well yeah, I threw both of these chicks out…
uh, what was her name… Cloris Leachman.
[BB] Yes.

[MF] You know that that weasely little
guy in there?
[BB] Okay.

[MF] You know who I
mean?
[BB] I think so.

[MF] Yeah. He was
always a heavy, Marc Lawrence. So he’s the director! So
he says, “You got it!” So that’s
the first thing I did.

[BB] [laughs]

[MF] So we do the thing
and Marlo’s in there. I throw
this guy out of the bar first.
I squirt this guy. The Old
Man who was going to poison the little kid?

[BB] The first thing you did was
“Lawman”?
[MF] Yeah, right off the
street.
[BB] Oh okay.

[MF] Never had a lesson or
needed one. Acting classes they
teach you to get over your fear
of acting, but that doesn’t make
sense. [laughs] If you’re afraid of
acting, what do you want to be an actor for?!
[BB] [laughs]

[MF] Pick something you can do.

[BB] Well tell me some more, rattle off some names of some
shows that you were in.

[MF] Might as well take it in sequence. I did that,
then I did “Maverick” and “Bonanza,” and I did a thing
with Chuck Connors, what was that…
[BB] “The Rifleman”?

[MF] “The Rifleman”, yeah. That was one of the
highlights. Another highlight was many years later
when Marlo Thomas did a remake of…
[BB] Oh, “It’s A Wonderful Life”.

[MF] Yeah, “It’s A Wonderful Life,” called “It Hap-

[MF] Well she was right up
there man, a pain-in-the-ass.
She was always saying, “Oh no
smoking, no drinking.” We’re
in the sound stage at Universal
and it’s huge and this guy clear
on the other side of the stage
lights up a cigarette and she
runs clear across the thing to
jerk it out of his mouth.

[BB] Yeah, the Pharmacist.

[MF] Yeah, he was
there, but he was just an
old drunk. So I squirt
seltzer water all over him,
they throw him out. So the chicks, they’re on
my ass so I just grab them. This is the real set from the
original thing, and they had put snow all over and it was
just all mushy and shitty, so I threw those girls out of
there, man. Marlo was okay, but she was busy being the
producer and everything, but this other chick it was just
fun to hurl her into the slime!
[BB] [laughs]

[MF] We did it three times! No twice, that’s right;
it was only twice. But I got to do it twice. And everyone
applauded.
[BB] [laughs] The highlight of your career.

[MF] It was one of those moments.

[BB] Well, at least one of them. Did you ever do commercials
or anything like that?

[MF] Oh yeah, man. I was the voice of Coleman
Camping Supplies, the Great American Outdoors. I did

Fall / Winter 2015 • The NOTE

9

all the voice-overs and a lot of the on-camera stuff for
about five years. I raised a family during commercials. I
don’t know how many I did, just a lot.
[BB] So this is what you always dreamed about doing, right?
Going to Hollywood and getting in films and stuff.

[MF] Yeah. Like in “The Nutty Professor”, that was
good. The first picture I did was “Spencer’s Mountain.”
There were all these wondeful people: Wally Cox and
everybody; Maureen O’Hara, the greatest woman in the world. Just
a true Irish beauty. She took
care of everybody. Men were
out where the mosquitos are
and she’s got bug spray spraying everybody’s ankles.

and he’s throwing a party for the cast and crew, so we
had a band from L.A. Joe Maini’s playing on it, and they
knew each other, I guess. And they’re jiving back and
forth… one would top the other and the other would top
him. It was great.
[BB] [laughs]

[MF] Oh man, but you didn’t know Joe, did you?
[BB] I did not.

[MF] [sighs] Killer
player.

[BB] That’s what I hear.

[MF] Nothing but funny.
You know, he always had a
lilt to his playing like he was
home, boy, he was great,
you couldn’t stop him.

[BB] [laughs]

[MF] Kinda like the diva
you might imagine.

[BB] You mentioned earlier
that you have been working on a
screen play or a script.

[BB] Yeah. It sounds like a lot of
the roles that you played were tough
and rumbled ones, a lot of cowboys and
stuff. But I want to go back and hear
more about “The Nutty Professor.”

[MF] The first day of shooting I got there oh, ten after 8.
I walk in and they say, “Where
the hell have you been?? It’s an
8:00 call! They’re in there shooting stuff now!” It took me a few
minutes to get in, but when I got
there, Jerry, who cast me personally he’s giving me some
shit. Good natured. So we do the scene, where I want to
go to football practice and he gives me some heat and
then I go up and get in his face and pick him up and
stick him on a shelf. And that was my big scene. So we
got everything on the first take and got right back on
schedule, so everything was cool.
[BB] [laughs]

[MF] And Jerry Lewis, case anybody wants to know,
is a terrific guy and a great director and a mind that just
won’t stop. Absolutely just a great guy.
[BB] Oh, that’s nice. Nice to know.

[MF] Well here’s an example: Stella Stevens, me,
and Skip Ward and Norm Alden, we were the three
football players. And we’re in the booth, talking and
Jerry comes in and sits down with us and he’s telling
us how to do the scene. And this guy comes up: “Hey,”
he says, “Hey, uh, Jerry, we got the big thing all set up
would you wanna take a look before we nail it down?”
And Jerry looked up to him and said, “Can’t you see I’m
working with my actors?! Be gone!”
[BB] [laughs]

[MF] How’s that?
[BB] Pretty hip.

[MF] Just great, man, and funny. Just funny as hell.
So we were doing the exteriors over at Arizona State

10

The NOTE • Fall / Winter 2015

[MF] Oh, a lot of them.

[BB] How many of them?
Tell me something about them.

[MF] Haven’t sold
any them. I optioned one
called “Tore,” made of
17 grand in options, you
know, which is something. Some writers may never get
that much in their lifetime.
[BB] What was it? Tell me a little bit about it. What was it
about?

[MF] A big turtle. Kids are fishing, one of them dynamites for fishing, and they find this huge, big turtle or
tortoise or something, like thirty-feet long, and it ends
up doing all kinds of stuff, like eating a ball game.
[BB] [laughs]

[MF] It’s a great script, you know. Maslansky, the
guy that produced all of the “Police Academy” movies
optioned it. Paul Maslansky. He optioned it for the Lad
company and they had it for a year and a half. But this
is just before “Jurassic Park” came out. If it was animation it would have been the easiest to do, but they were
showing us the guys that did “Kong,” and how they had
all the knobs and things for the facial twitches and stuff
like that and it was amazing.
[BB] Yeah.

[MF] It was a big, huge deal.

[BB] Well let’s get back to the music part because I haven’t
asked you enough to explain to me about how the L.A. Voices got
started.
[MF] Well, I wrote a chart on “Embracable You”
and a couple of other things.

[BB] Well, I got your CD in my hand, the one that is titled:
“Med Flory Presents the Best of Supersax and the L.A. Voices”.

[MF] Pretty good album, huh?

[BB] Oh my goodness. It’s a killer. And I do a little radio program once a week here at the university and I’ve been playing this
constantly.

[BB] Let me change the subject again and ask you this. I think
you have an opinion about this, so I’m going to take a shot. Imagine
that you were talking to a group of young student musicians today,
which you probably do on occasion.

[BB] Yeah, because I love the sound of those voices, unbelievable, and then the combination of that
and Supersax to me is just terrific.
Was Don Shelton ever involved with
the L.A. Voices?

[BB] Having gone through and
lived through the era of jazz that
you’ve lived through, what do you
tell these kids about what it was
like back then in the 40s and 50s?

[MF] Oh, no kidding!

[MF] Yeah.

[MF] Well I don’t. They
play for me and I tell them
what they’re doing right
and what they’re doing
wrong, and how to just
play swing time. Divide
the beat into three instead
of two and don’t even
mention the word “rock”
when I’m around! I don’t
allow anybody to say that
even in my own house.
Even if he’s a geologist!

[MF] Yeah, but not recording. Afterwards when we did
the Moonlight Tango and places
like that.

[BB] Let me change the subject
and start to wrap things up. There are
a few things I still want to know. You’ve
played with so many musicians along the
way. Tell me some that you feel never got
as much recognition as they deserve.
[MF] Conte Candoli.
[BB] Tell me more.

[MF] Conte Candoli. Do you
know who Dizzy said plays most
like him? Conte Candoli, that’s
what he told me. So he dug him.
[BB] I believe Diz.

[MF] Yeah, now he was the most absolute, marvelous cat.
[BB] Well Conte and you go way back; I know you’ve spent a
lot of time together, right?
[MF] Well, playing together on that band for 30
years. [laughs]

[BB] Well, when you look back at all of the great jazz musicians of the forties or fifties, who were your heroes? I mean, who
was your greatest influence?
[MF] Charlie Parker.
[BB] Mm-hmm.

[MF] Diz, and going long way back, Louis Jordan. I
liked Louis Jordan before I heard Diz and I never could
stand Johnny Hodges. I just couldn’t stand that slurpy
way he played. I just didn’t like him. I wasn’t nuts about
that band, for that matter except for Paul Gonzalves and
a few guys. It was a good band, and they made some
marvelous stuff. On the whole I shouldn’t say that I
didn’t dig that band. I did, but then I didn’t somehow.
Mainly because every place you went, every band that
you were on, there was some joker trying to write in the
Ellington style. If you can’t do it, don’t! I thought it was
terrible. But hey, I can’t blame Duke for that.
[BB] Were you an admirer of Lester Young?

[MF] Yeah. Sure, when he did those things back
there with Red Callender, and Nat Cole. It was Nat
Cole, Red Callender and Prez.

[BB] [laughs]

[MF] [laughs] So I
tell the lead alto player,
“Look, either you play
the horn or the horn plays you. If the
horn’s playing you, no one’s going to hear you because
the horn likes the sound a certain way and we get it, it
sounds a nice… but you gotta get that sound out there
about six feet in front of you where it all comes together
because you’re competing against seven idiots who don’t
give a rat’s ass whether you live or die because they’re
blowing their brains out!” Then when the saxes come
in, they gotta come in! I play hard as I can sometimes, to
keep up with the trumpets and trombones. Wonderful
people. As long as they stay back in their place.
[BB] [laughs]

[MF] [laughs]

[BB] So are you optimistic or pessimistic about jazz?

[MF] [sighs] Oh, I don’t know. Hey, I’m not optimistic about anything!
[BB] [laughs]

[MF] I am kind of with the opinion that the world
has already come to an end, but we’re too stupid to realize it.
[BB] [laughs]

[MF] Really, man. What do we got? What’s getting
better? Basketball?

[BB] [laughs] Well let’s wrap this up. Thank you so much Med.
It has really been a pleasure to talk to you and thank you too, for all
this great music you’ve given to us over the years.

U

[MF] Well thank you too, man. You know, just putting one foot in front of the other, that’s all it is.

Fall / Winter 2015 • The NOTE

11

by Sue Terry

James Richard

From the Bridge

GIVE ME THE SIMPLE LIFE

L

“A cottage small is all I’m after
Not one that’s spacious and wide
A house that rings with joy and laughter
And the ones you love inside”
(bridge to Give Me the Simple Life; lyric by Harry
Ruby, music by Rube Bloom)

et’s whip out the old cellphone camera and take a snapshot of the Zeitgeist, shall we? We’ve got the warmand-fuzzies covered: cute animal videos, people helping
each other, random acts of kindness. But then there’s the
economy. Health care, war, alternative energy. Robots,
nano-particles, RFID. Genetic alteration, biohazards,
terrorism. Currency control and manipulation. Poverty,
hunger, drought. Foreclosures, unemployment, climate
change. Digital everything. And where the heck are we going to put all the trash?
Forget the cellphone camera - we need the wide angle lens!
Since the time when most people thought the Earth
was the center of the universe, we’ve acquired objectivity. No longer tethered to the surface of this bulbous, heavy
planet, we fly over it in airplanes, in spacecraft. We go to
the bottom of the sea, and burrow inside the earth’s crust
with quantum measuring devices. We probe every probability with lines of computer code that bind us, Matrix-like, to
the busy-bee mentality that keeps us churning out honey.
Some of us have been saying, “Hey, did I sign up for this
course? And is it required to graduate?” Folks are quitting
their jobs, starting their own businesses. They’re forming
communes and communities; they’re riding bicycles and
growing their own vegetables. They’re making their own
biofuel for their cars (sign me up for that!) and getting off
the grid with windmills, solar panels and geothermal power. They’re even adopting dietary regimes that supposedly
mimic the “natural” lifestyle of our Paleolithic ancestors.
Heaven knows why there’s been a shift toward living
simpler lives, in the midst of this amazing era of technological advancement. Maybe in the background of our minds,
we’re still a bit worried about that 2012 business a while
back. Why did the ancient Mayan calendar end there? Did
something happen and we’re the last to know? Are we now
inhabiting an Alternate Universe?
In order to better assess the truth of this Give Me the

12

The NOTE • Fall / Winter 2015

Simple Life idea, let’s divide human endeavors into seven
general categories:
1. The Basics (food/air/water/shelter)
2. Health
3. Money
4. Love/Relationships/Family
5. Work
6. Religion/Philosophy of Life
7. The Arts/Entertainment

The Basics

In this category we see a search for purity. Natural
foods and clean air and water are increasingly demanded
by citizen/consumers. That demand is being filled, and the
choices are tantalizing (at least in the USA). Do I see myself
drinking from a spring in Poland, a park full of bounding
white tail deer, a South Pacific island, or do I put my trust
in Science, and avail myself of the brand that claims to have
filtered out every possible impurity from its H2O? (Don’t
laugh—your choice of bottled water defines you! I was
shopping in a women’s store in Brooklyn and couldn’t help
overhearing another customer agonize over the color of the
wallet she wanted to buy— “What does a green leather wallet say about me?”) As for shelter--just type “build a yurt”
into the Google search window if you don’t believe there are
actually people who aren’t interested in a 3BR 2BA with a
white picket fence. Hey, it’s been working for the Mongolians for centuries.

Health

A highly topical subject, considering the frenzied
and vociferous debates on health care occurring as we
speak. Time will reveal whether ancient modalities like
acupuncture, Yoga, Qi Gong and Reiki (a modern version
of “laying on of hands”) will become an integral part of
whatever national health system we end up with. In the
area of nutritional supplements and pharmaceuticals, many
contain the same plants and herbs that our ancestors dug up
from the ground or extracted from leaves or squeezed out of
reptiles. Hospitals now use maggots to clean wounds, and
leeches to cleanse blood. Bee sting therapy is used for arthritis and Multiple Sclerosis. The popularity of “Grandma
remedies” is also an indicator of a desire to return to the old
roost. Chickens always come home to roost, and as Louis
Jordan said, ain’t nobody here but us chickens.

Money

There have been a couple of particularly interesting
developments in the past decade that harken back to olden
days. The first is the re-emergence of barter. (For reference, see sites like Craig’s List and Barter Depot.) The
other is the increasing use of regional currencies, like the
BerkShare in the Berkshire region of Massachusetts, or the
Chiemgauer in Germany. There are regional currencies in
several European countries, as well as Canada. So now,
whenever I go walking on the beach, I make sure to collect
some pretty shells just in case wampum comes back.

Love/Relationships/Family

Society’s re-evaluation of relationships that differ from
that of the traditional Barbie & Ken model points the way
toward a more inclusive future society. I sense sort of a Pagan vibe. Gay, bi, transgender, and more hugs all around! I
think satyrs and mermaids are included too. As is often the
case, this revolution has been taken up by the younger generations, thereby ensuring its continuation and development
well into mid-century, if the world still exists then.

Work

As Daniel Pink points out in a popular TED Talk, the
“new” business model reflects time-honored values that
somehow escaped CEO consciousness in previous decades:
Autonomy—the urge to direct our own lives. Mastery—the
desire to get better at something that matters. Purpose—
yearning to do what we do in the service of something
larger than ourselves. Modern companies like Apple Computer, Zappo Shoes and Google are examples of this “new”
business model, although even these cutting edge companies may be too corporate for some people.

Religion/Philosophy

From the corporate gurus to the toothless soothsayers
of the Indian Subcontinent, there is no shortage of purveyors of Ancient Cosmic Truth, whether they be clothed in
sheep’s wool, wolf pelts, Brooks Brothers, or nothing. Or
perhaps we should be guided by the voices of celebrities.
Madonna is into Kabbalah. Tom Cruise is a Scientologist,
and Lisa Simpson, the animated baritone saxophonist, has
been known to dabble in Buddhism. Wayne Dyer, Deepak
Chopra, Marianne Williamson, and the pundits from The
Secret are some of the go-to guides for the Enlightenment
bequeathed to us by sages of yesteryear.   

Arts/Entertainment

I hate to put these two together. The differences
between art and entertainment will make great fodder
for a future column; however, for the moment let us consider their interface as our palette. There are two modern
entertainment phenomena that strongly remind one of days
of yore: Storytelling and Karaoke. Storytelling has got to
date back to the cavemen. (“And then, from behind the
rock, I heard the unmistakable grunt of a female sabertoothed tiger!”) Even though Karaoke uses published songs
(aka “intellectual property”) and professionally rendered
backing tracks, the star of the show is Whoever’s Got The
Mic. Therefore, these are entertainments in which “usergenerated content” is king. (Remember back in the day,
when we used to sing user-generated content over intellectual property around the old upright in Aunt Mary’s parlor?)
If we admit that the Give Me the Simple Life mentality
is creeping into the unsuspecting 21st Century, what does
that mean for musicians?
Most of us pros started playing music as wee lads and
lassies, so perhaps it means reacquainting ourselves with
the reasons why we wanted to play music in the first place.
(Even though I’ve heard guys say they started playing to get
chicks, I doubt it, unless they were, uh, quick bloomers.)
When you’re a kid, you see/hear the magic of music. And you want to do the magic, so you get an instrument and start playing. Sometimes the magic disappears,
and you quit. But for those who stick with it (whether
professional or amateur) we must hold on to that feeling
of magically creating something. If we don’t, then playing

becomes automatic, like typing. (If you’re playing a bar
mitzvah with a bunch of screaming kids running around
and the music from the DJ in the next room bleeds through
your ballads, it may feel more like typing than playing music, trust me.)
The best way to keep connected with the magic of playing is by closely identifying with the tone of your instrument. The tone is the first thing heard. It comes before you
dazzle ‘em with your dizzy technique, before you amaze ‘em
with your awesome improvs. The true masters of music
are known first for the beauty, character, and uniqueness
of their tone: A few come to mind immediately, like Maria
Callas, Ben Webster, Sarah Vaughan, Miles Davis. . . Clara
Rockmore even tamed the bestial Theremin to sweetness!
“I know not with what weapons World War III will be
fought, but World War IV will be fought with sticks and stones.”
-- Albert Einstein
In my purse, I carry a small wood flute that Tim Price
gave me. It makes me feel I can make music whatever happens and wherever I end up. After all, if you’re wandering
the earth looking for survivors of the superflu. . . nuclear
holocaust. . . superstorm. . . superquake. . . meteor collision.
. .Planet X flyby. . . a sax gets kind of heavy after awhile.
If the Simple Life, for musicians, means connecting with
the deepest layer of Sound and feeling the magic that initially inspired us—what does it mean for the music listener?
I would propose it means immersing oneself in the listening experience without distraction. Since I am a listener
as well as a musician, I will speak on this as well.
1. It’s essential to make the effort to go out and enjoy
live performances. The magic of music has much to do
with feeling the sound vibrations. That’s why the volume
level of performances has increased over time--people want
to FEEL the music. Unfortunately, raising the volume is a
misguided attempt to feel the music. It results in desensitization. When people are bombarded by sound, they make
no effort to listen deeply. Good music, however, is a twoway street. If Lush Life plays in the supermarket and no one
pays attention to it, does it still exist?
2. Take some time to deepen your knowledge and understanding of the art form. Take a class, read a book. You
could even take a private lesson on listening with a musician
you admire. There are also innumerable tools online where
one can learn more about almost any aspect of music--basic
theory, or Brazilian rhythms, for example.
3. Expand your musical horizons. Trade mix tapes (on
CD, flash drive, cassette) with your friends. Turn them on
to a genre or a player they might not know, and they’ll do
the same for you.
4. Host a Listening Party. No talking while the music
is playing! And don’t serve anything crunchy.
I guarantee that all investments made in listening better will pay handsome dividends, not only in your music
life but in many other life areas as well. Teach this to your
children. As we say at COTA, talk to your kids about jazz,
before it’s too late!
That’s all for tonight, thanks for being here. See you
next time, when we take it From The Bridge.
Sue Terry is the author of:
Greatest Hits of The Blog That Ate Brooklyn:Inside the
Mind of a Musician, For The Curious, I Was a Jazz Musician For the FBI, Practice Like the Pros - Her website is:
www.sueterry.net

U

Fall / Winter 2015 • The NOTE

13

COTA Festival 2014
player), probably standing and spreading their wings somewhere close to
the “the big stage” would have been
Nancy and Spencer Reed – the opening performers from this year and in
1978! It is one of the unique features
of COTA: that the “local” world-class
jazz musicians come to perform for
each other as well as for their neighbors. It is a way for the artistic community to “mark time” and measure
artistic growth.
COTA began officially on Friday
night with the music themed art
show at the Dutot Museum accompanied by the tender classicism of the
woodwind quartet “Calliope” - ideal
music for viewing the art work and
to underscore the murmur of excitement of the announcement of those
chosen by a trio of art folks as the
best at artistically articulating the
jazz and music theme of the show.
The art show was followed with the
migration across the street and “up
the steps Miss Shirley” to the sanctuary of the Church of the Mountain
for a program of string chamber
music, theater and dance.
Saturday dawned warm with
reported threat of scattered thunderstorms. In the old days sound, lights,
stage managers, crew, security and
all the other hard working volunteers that help to make the festival
run like a well oiled machine had a
single weather report to guide the

Contributed by Rick Chamberlain

by Rick Chamberlain

Phil Woods, Al Cohn, Steve Gilmore, and Bill Goodwin (pianist unknown) performing at the
COTA Festival in 1978.

by Rick Chamberlain
photos by Bob Weidner

I

s that the crisp faint smell of
leaves beginning to do their post
labor day coloration thing? Something so familiar yet reserved in importance. Of course it’s the weekend
after Labor Day and of course that
means it is time for the Delaware Water Gap Celebration of the Arts. Like
a trip to an old vineyard to see what
has been in the making since the last
visit – COTA is a tradition unlike any
others for performers and listeners
alike.

14

The NOTE • Fall / Winter 2015

This year’s
COTA was a
delightful blend of
young and old; the
tried, the true, and
some performers
experiencing the
spreading of their
wings for the first
time “on the big
stage”!
In the photo
taken in 1978
(with Al Cohn,
Phil Woods, Bill
Goodwin and
Steve Gilmore and
unsure of piano
Nellie McKay

The Bob Dorough Group

day… now virtually everyone has the
latest up-to-date weather maps right
in their pockets! And the threat of
rain didn’t materialize until halfway
through the last set so the alwaysready rain tent was not needed in
2014.
After the “tried and true” of
Nancy & Spencer Reed leading off the
show on Saturday came a couple of
“spreading of the wings” groups – and
what beautiful wings they were. Part
of the beauty of the COTA program
since it’s inception has been the emphasis on passing down the knowledge from one generation to the next.
Matt Vashlishan and Evan Gregor

grew up within the
COTA program
as students in the
COTA Cats (high
school age honors
jazz band) – graduated from acclaimed
music schools and
are now educating
a younger generaErica Golaszewski, Katherine Rudolf, Matt Vashlishan, Theresa Tonkin
tion of which Najwa at the ACMJC Booth.
Parkins is a part.
Persad, Michael Hornstein and Jimmy
Then what can one really say
McBride.
about the rest of the evening with
But it doesn’t stop there! Next
Bob Dorough showcasing his imwas the crowd favorite Phil Woods
measurable talents and presenting
and the Festival Orchestra, then
“newcomers” to his band with Chris

Rick Chamberlain directing the Jazz Mass

Fall / Winter 2015 • The NOTE

15

side.
Bill Mays performed in a magical
trio setting to begin the afternoon’s
offerings, followed by the hard charging Co-op Bop, then the 34th edition
of the COTA Cats – the raison d’etre
for the COTA educational endeavors. A fine blend of old wine in new
bottles brought us Dave Liebman’s
Expansions Quintet and the Vic Juris
Trio. The former COTA Cats were
represented once again with the latest
song stylings and original works by
the one and only Nellie McKay.
Wrapping up the festival was an
unusual turn for COTA with Tim
Carbone and the Shockenaw Mountain Boys – bluegrass asskicking music but improvised nonetheless. It was
time to kick up your heels then call it
a night and begin the anticipation for
COTA number 38.

U

Miss Ida Blue

Sherrie Maricle and her DIVA Trio
with Sue Giles on vocals. Finally
came the rain and slightly shortened
the set of Miss Ida Blue and her
unique old jazz stylings.
Sunday morning dawned into a
beautiful day for jazz and all the arts.
The Jazz Mass annually performed on
the big stage seemed to be a livelier
than usual tribute to Bob Hartman,
the original choir master who, since
the festival, has passed on to the
great heavenly choir.

Both days featured strolling
bands, special events in the children’s
area, and food – itself a smorgasbord
of local vendors and home baked
goodies. Visually, the arts and crafts
tents were awash in color and first
class creativity. There was something
for everyone!
And the music continued on.
This year the schedule featured fewer
bands with longer sets and special
stadium seating – a hit with those
with trouble maneuvering the hill-

Najwa Parkins sings with her After Hours Quartet

16

The NOTE • Fall / Winter 2015

Vic Juris and Evan Gregor

Reflections on Bob Dorough’s Eulalia
by Phil Mosley

P

osting to All About Jazz forum in 2005, Pithecanthropus
wrote “I’m doing this song [Bob Dorough’s “I’ve Got
Just About Everything”] at a wedding. I’ve been having
a hell of a time figuring the changes from the recording.
The singer I’m working with emailed Bob Dorough and he
sent her the changes. What a guy!” That gracious, generous attitude allied to an amiable
manner and a positive outlook on
“just about everything” (including a mission to educate young
people through his music) has
endeared Dorough to the wider
jazz community as much as to
the one in the Pocono Mountains
of Pennsylvania of which he has
long been a member. In addition
to these good vibrations, Bob,
now in his ninety-first year, still
performs with considerable verve
and consummate technique. And
I’ve never failed to see him taking
time out to meet and greet those
who come to hear him sing in his
inimitable style and play some
beautiful, swinging piano.
“I’ve Got Just About Everything” is on his latest CD Eulalia (Merry Lane Records,
2014, recorded in 2011) along with five other of his best
known songs plus two instrumentals: the eponymous
composition bookending the record and an impressionistic
piece entitled “Consummation” by album co-producer Joe
Peine. Bob is accompanied throughout by a fine ensemble
featuring Phil Woods on alto sax, Steve Gilmore on acoustic bass, Bob’s daughter Aralee Dorough (of the Houston
Symphony Orchestra) on flute, Warren Sneed on tenor and
soprano saxes, Dennis Dotson on trumpet, Thomas Hultén
on trombone and tuba, Ray Wilson on guitar, and Herman
Matthews on drums. Several additional instrumentalists help out on various tracks: Mike Mizma on vibes and
pandeiro, Keith Vivens on electric bass, and Gary Mitchell,
Jr. on Hammond B3 organ.
Bob’s voice, ever the lip of hip yet never losing its earthy
Arkansas grain, is unmistakable. And he has an eccentric
way with a lyric, twisting and turning it, working its dynamics, pausing here, darting there, pulling little surprises
and stealing odd moments. He can sound ironic and world
weary one minute, tender and heartfelt the next. And let’s
not forget his skill as an arranger. It’s on full display here:
imaginative, attentive to detail, and showing Bob’s sensitivity to his fellow musicians to whom he gives plenty of room
to shine.
“Eulalia,” which Bob wrote for Sam Most in 1954, is
a limpid, classically tinged piece that features Aralee. It
sounds as if it could come from a romantic European art
movie of the sixties. Bob’s piano drops in like softly falling

rain. Then he steps right up to an infectious Latin beat in
a quirky take on “Love (Webster’s Dictionary),” which he
wrote with lyricists Dan Greenburg and Monty Ghertler.
Only Bob Dorough, it would seem, could get so much mileage out of singing a set of dictionary definitions that stretches to “love/in tennis/means no points scored/ and you have
nothing/and I have nothing.” Solos by Gilmore and Wilson
enhance a tune fluently propelled by Bob’s piano. His voice
shows its cutting edge in “Whatever Happened To Love Songs,”
a collaboration with lyricist Bill
Loughborough that gives vent to
a thoroughly cynical viewpoint.
As everywhere on this album,
Bob’s arrangement seamlessly
weaves his vocals in and out of
his inventive musical lines. A
deft switch of mood brings out
Bob at his warmest and sincerest in the lovely ballad “But For
Now.” It’s a measure of the
song’s enduring quality that young
British jazz star Jamie Cullum
chooses it as a show closer. Bob’s
piano solo is exquisite, and there’s
some fine trombone by Hultén. In
“I’ve Got Just About Everything”—
another well covered song whether
your taste is for Tony Bennett or Tuck and Patti—Bob’s scatting as well as his interpreting of the lyric confirm his status
as a master of phrasing. Gilmore and Matthews engage in
lively dialogue, while the icing on the cake is Woods cutting
loose as only he knows how.
Acknowledging the title of Dizzy Gillespie’s 1979
memoir (and perhaps also a George Shearing tune), “To Be
Or Not To Bop” shows off Bob’s vocalese in an energetic,
eight-minute celebration in which everyone involved is “chasin’ the Bird” from start to finish. Sneed, Dotson, Gilmore,
Matthews, and Bob all weigh in with tasty solos. Fran
Landesman and Bob have long been kindred beat spirits as
evidenced on the 2006 album Small Day Tomorrow, his brilliant interpretations of her storied songbook. Here he offers
another of their collaborations, “A Few Days Of Glory,” a
rousing slice of spiritual truth served up as a mix of Dixieland and gospel soul complete with more notes of glory
from Woods’s alto. As well as playing the organ, Mitchell
acts as choirmaster and harmonizes with vocalist Tammie Bradley. Once this parade has passed by, the album
ends serenely with Aralee soloing on the wistful, fleeting
“Consummation” before reprising “Eulalia” with her father
whose piano solo is parentally gentle but firm.
“Timeless” and “ageless” are two adjectives often employed to praise Bob Dorough and his music. Many more
could be added. “I like the human race,” he sings in “I’ve
Got Just About Everything,” and it shows in the spirit of
this exemplary album, as good a recording, I think, as any
from his long career in jazz. What a guy, indeed!

U

Fall / Winter 2015 • The NOTE

17

dcast from the Commodore Hotel Century Room, May 1948

Leader - Woody Herman
es (from left to right) - Stan Getz, Al Cohn, Sam Marowitz, Zoot Sims, Serge Chaloff
Trombones (from left to right) - Ollie Wilson, Earl Swope, Bob Swift
to right) - Ernie Royal, Bernie Glow, Marky Markowitz, Shorty Roger, Stan Fishelson
red Otis, Bass - Harry Babsin, Drums - Don Lamond, Vocalist - Ms. Mary Ann McCall

Al Grey at ESU
by Patrick Dorian
ESU Distinguished Professor Emeritus of Music

A

A Reminiscence of Al Grey at ESU

l Grey was our guest soloist with the University Jazz
Ensemble at ESU on April 11, 1990. All of our famous
guest soloists from 1988 through 2003 presented a
lecture entitled My Life in Music, rehearsed with the student-based jazz ensemble, and performed a formal evening
concert. Especially with the plunger and Pixie mutes, he had
a style all his own, which is every jazz musician’s goal. Al
made his mark in the Count Basie band beginning in 1957.
I had witnessed the magical artistry of Count Basie & His
Orchestra live several times, and in high school I laughed
until I hurt when director and actor Mel Brooks had newly
appointed sheriff Cleavon Little ride past the Basie band
(with Al) set up in the middle of the western plains performing April in Paris in the movie Blazing Saddles.
Al was performing for many of the great bandleaders
(including our 1993 guest soloist Benny Carter) for 12 years
before he went with the Count (aka the Chief). It was his
tenure with the Chief that made him a true “edutainer,” a
fine example of a great artist who entertains. Basie called Al
“Mr. Fabulous,” which shortened to simply “Fab.” Stanley
Dance’s book The World of Count Basie (1960) dedicates a
chapter to Al (pp. 204-209). A fine article about the first 23
years of his career is “Al Grey: Playing from the Heart” by
Valerie Wilmer in the January 25, 1968 issue of downbeat
magazine (pp. 27-28).
Al’s spirit permeated the Fine & Performing Arts Center
in 1990, interacting with students, faculty, staff, and the
community. His long-time manager and companion, Rosalie
Soladar (1928-2009), was with him. By observing and listening to their interactions, we got a lesson in how to support
and celebrate a great musician. The Al Grey/Rosalie Soladar Papers (82.5 cubic feet!) are in the Al Grey & Rosalie
Soladar Memorial Collection in the Special Collections and
Archives of the University of Idaho Library, along with the
collections of several other iconic jazz musicians (http://
www.ijc.uidaho.edu/).
The concert was a resounding success and even resulted
in a photo on page 11 of the September 1990 issue of downbeat magazine of “Fab” performing with two ESU trombonists using, of course, plunger mutes with Pixie mutes.
In the early spring of 1991, I was preparing the University
Jazz Ensemble for its second of three concerts with Clark
Terry (1989, 1991, and 1999) and received a phone call from
Al Grey. He had heard that his close musical colleague,
“CeeTee,” would be coming to ESU again and wanted to
know if he could join us. I was overjoyed to say the least, but
in full disclosure told “Mr. Fabulous” that our budget was
almost depleted. Al said, “Anything you offer would be fine.”
That concert with the University Jazz Ensemble, CeeTee, and
Fab was another triumph for the campus. In the middle of
one selection, Al and Clark broke into an extended musical
“conversation,” using, you guessed it, their plunger mutes. It
brought the house down.

20

The NOTE • Fall / Winter 2015

Al Grey (1925-2000) at East Stroudsburg
University of Pennsylvania on Wednesday, April 11, 1990:Pre-Lecture Comments and the Lecture Recorded by Ralph
S. Hughes (1923-1997).Ralph was one of
the founders of the Al Cohn Memorial Jazz
Collection. After the recorded comments
and lecture, Mr. Grey rehearsed with the
University Jazz Ensemble, directed by Professor Patrick Dorian, which was followed
that evening by a formal concert.
Guest Editor: Patrick Dorian, ESU Distinguished
Professor Emeritus of Music.
Sketch by Leo Meiersdorff

The Pre-Lecture Comments:

Ralph Hughes: We’re on, Al.
Al Grey: OK. I would like to say “Hello World in Music” and it’s much of a happiness for me to be in Stroudsburg, because I’m a Pennsylvanian. I come from very close
by, Pottstown, Pennsylvania, and we had a ballroom there
called the SunnyBrook Ballroom. Larry Fisher just told me
that he saw me for the first time, his only time ever seeing
Count Basie, at the SunnyBrook. I come from a family that
played in the church, the Pottstown Baptist Church, but . .
. as a kid I would go to the SunnyBrook Ballroom and listen
to the big bands that would come in like Tommy Dorsey,
Louis Armstrong, and Count Basie. They had a coal bin
in the back of the bandstand and I’d go down, put my ear
down there, and they would chase me away. This music
sounded so good that I knew that I wanted to be a musician.
I ended up where I joined Benny Carter [1945-1947],
Jimmie Lunceford [1947], Lionel Hampton [1948-1951],
Sy Oliver’s recording studio band [1952 & 1960 for Decca
Records], and on to Dizzy Gillespie’s band [1956-1957] and
Count Basie [1957-1961, 1964-1966, 1971-1973 and sporadically after that]. These were the big bands but I was
also the musical director of the small bands of Arnett Cobb
[1954-1956] and [rhythm and blues singer] Bullmoose Jackson. Later on I became the musical director of singer Lloyd
Price and his big band where we developed jazz instead of
all of the rhythm and blues at that time.
We were talking a few minutes ago about Al Cohn
and we played together at his last appearance in Chicago
[December, 1987] at the [Jazz Showcase in the] Blackstone
Hotel for a New Years greeting to all of the world [probably a radio broadcast]. The “front line” was Red Rodney,
Buddy Tate, Al Cohn, and myself. But this was New Year’s

What created my success
was a thing that I was
doing but didn’t realize
what I was doing with it,
and that was the plunger
[mute]. So I eventually
ended up writing a book
because they asked me
to write one and I didn’t
know how to write about it
because I didn’t know what
I was doing. I did a lot of
research on myself and it
took almost two years to
do the book [Plunger Tech-

niques: The Al Grey Plunger
Method for Trombone and
Trumpet by Al Grey and

John Bender

Mike Grey; pub. Second
Floor Music; 1987], and
now I know how to help
others to form the various
different sounds with a
plunger. When you go back
to Glenn Miller, plunger
parts were marked on the
sheet music as a plus [+]
and an “o” to sound like
“doo dot doot dah,” but
now I can show them how to get sounds in between that,
because I can now give them five different sounds off of
one note. This is very important for the young people that
are in schools today because this is something else that is
not taught in the schools, and that’s another reason I’m
very happy to be here today to give a few demonstrations
of what happens with the plunger. It has been going on
for decades in jazz and I find it’s needed today, from the
recording studios for cable television and radio, and we
can get these various different sounds, In fact, I know in
my life what made my mark in music history was to go out
to Hollywood and do the soundtrack with the plunger for
composer Quincy Jones and director Steven Spielberg for
the film The Color Purple [1985]. A song I was featured on
[playing trombone with plunger mute on the song Miss
Celie’s Blues (Sister)] came up for a nomination for an
academy award [for Best Original Song]. The movie had 11
nominations, but Steven Spielberg didn’t get one vote, so it
knocked all of our nominations out of the box.
I am going around to many of the universities and
colleges throughout the country and in Europe. In Europe
they know more about jazz than they do in America, because they have their own encyclopedias and so on and so
forth and we just have Leonard Feather.
I just wish I had a chance to continue on for a long time
here, but I want to let you know that I thank you for letting
me say a few words to you.
RH: Thanks Al Grey, this is Ralph Hughes. Al’s
going on to his lecture in about 10 minutes, so we’re
going to cut this off now. It’s April 11, 1990.

Al Grey giving a masterclass at ESU, 1990.

Eve that we all played, and the next night it was just the
two of us left, Al Cohn and Al Grey. Al didn’t come down,
so I went up to his room and he was too sick to leave his
room, so I asked a doctor in the audience to check him out
and he said, “Get him in the hospital immediately.” And
that was it. I called back the next day and the doctor said,
“I’m so sorry to tell you, Al, that his time is running out
and he has less than six months,” but it was less than two
months until he died [February 15, 1988]. [Some sources
report that Al Cohn became stricken on December 30, not
New Year’s Eve.] The most terrible thing was that when I
put him into the hospital [Mercy Hospital], Joe Segal, who
owned the jazz club, gave me Al Cohn’s tenor sax to hold
on to, and it was three days before Al’s wife, Flo, could pick
up the tenor sax. I was a nervous wreck having this horn
on my hands and she got there three days later and what a
relief that was. Al and I were so close and we discovered
some years back that my son, [trombonist] Mike Grey, and
his son, Joe Cohn, went to college together at the Berklee
School of Music in Boston and they were friends. I have a
family-type of band today where Joe Cohn plays guitar with
me and we recorded a compact disc that was a tribute to Al
Cohn and his music [The New Al Grey Quintet Chiaroscuro
CR[D] 305, recorded three months after Al Cohn’s death].
Because he was such a great composer and arranger, we
just knew that we had to do this and I’m very proud of the
CD and I’m very proud to have Joe Cohn with us. I think
that he will become, without a doubt, one of the all-time
great guitarists in the world, and he is also playing trumpet
with us on ensembles and plays solos and composes. So, to
me, Al Cohn is still right here today with us.
I go on in the music world because I’m one of the only
ones living that had the chance to play with all of the big
bands starting back to Benny Carter, and then Jimmie
Lunceford, Lionel Hampton, Lucky Millinder, Dizzy Gillespie, and then on to Count Basie for many, many years.

The Lecture:

Patrick Dorian: It’s an honor to present trombonist Al Grey as he gives a lecture entitled My Life
in Music. If you look at the inner right side of your

Fall / Winter 2015 • The NOTE

21

printed program for a moment, you’ll read exactly
where this gentleman has been. He’s also willing to
answer some specific questions as the hour goes on.
So it’s a great honor and a pleasure to introduce to
everyone, Mr. Al Grey [applause].
AG: Thank you very, very much. Hello, good afternoon. I’m very, very happy that I have the opportunity to
say hello to you today. First of all, as you read my biography in the program, I’m going to start off by telling you a
story. Our family did come north when I was three months
old from Virginia to Pottstown. My father was a musician,
a trumpet player, and by the time I was four years old, I
would hear him practice and I loved the sound. He would
come home and say, “Uh-oh, someone’s been messing with
my trumpet,” and here I had been messing around with his
trumpet and then trying to get it back into the case right.
This became a big problem, because he came home one
day and saw I was looking at the case, so he smacked my
fingers a couple of times. “Leave that alone, don’t touch.”
With his sound and my hearing him practice and everything, I wanted to see if I could just blow that hard. So on
another day he came home and I didn’t get it back into the
case right, but this time I had bent the second valve where
it didn’t function. So he proceeded to give me a vicious,
vicious spanking until my mother had to grab him and say,
“Stop it, Ed!” She thought that he was going to really just
beat me up anytime I touched that horn, but the sound, I
just loved the sound so much and I wanted to play it. So
my mother went out and got a job at Lamb’s Music House,
a music store in Pottstown, the village where I still live,
where she would clean the floor every Saturday. I would
take out the trash baskets. Well, during those days, she’d
be on her knees with a brush, because you had to brush the
entire area . . . it took a long time, whereas today, you can
take a mop and do it maybe in ten minutes. But in those
days, on her knees. We didn’t have any money and so she
bought me an instrument to keep my father from beating
me up all the time.
I certainly was very interested in playing, so when I
was in junior high school I played in the high school band,
from wanting to play that much. Then they moved me
from playing the baritone horn to the E-flat tuba, and then
from the E-flat tuba to the B-flat tuba, which is the bigger
one and the fingering is completely different. I was fortunate enough to get into the Forensic League for honors, and
I went from there to the championship of the state of Pennsylvania to the National Forensic League and playing tuba.
The art of that was that we would play in Atlantic City on
the boardwalk at the convention center with 500 selected
musicians from the eastern seaboard schools under the
direction of Leopold Stokowski [1882-1977]. It seemed
like we were just plucking back and forth from the sound
hitting you back in the face (laughs). But anyway, this was
another thing that was inspiring me to be a musician.
In the meantime, my father had started us playing in
the church all the time by having my sister play trumpet
and my brother play clarinet. We had a musical family. I
wasn’t allowed to play jazz at home. My mother used to
say, “I don’t want that kind of music to be played in this
house,” and she thought it was the devil’s music. I never
could figure it out, you know? I grew up and playing with
various different bands and when we played places we
noticed that sometimes fights would break out and it came
from people getting drunk. It came from where you had a
lady and someone else is dancing with your lady and these

22

The NOTE • Fall / Winter 2015

fights happened, so this was the devil, but it had nothing
to do with the music. So my mother never would come
and see me play jazz, until eventually I was honored with a
plaque from Playboy magazine for my group, the Al GreyBilly Mitchell Sextet [1961]. So she comes to see me after
many, many years of not coming to see what I was doing,
and she said, “Son, I believe you’re going to make it.” But
at that time I had already played with Benny Carter’s band
and then to Jimmie Lunceford and then to Lionel Hampton,
going into the studio where I worked on staff [for a radio
orchestra] for Sy Oliver and Dick Jacobs. I was very fortunate to have that job because at that time black artists just
weren’t hired in studios or anything like that, but getting
a chance like that allowed me to be more aware of what
surrounds you out in this music world, if you want to be a
musician.
I continued on by going to Professor John Coffey in
Boston to find out how to really know the trombone because it seemed like many of us had learned on their own
when we had no one to teach us how to blow your instrument. For instance, like Louis Armstrong, he had no one
to show him, so he had pressure on his lip where he would
press the trumpet against his lip. When he passed on, he
had a gash in his lip a quarter of an inch deep from pressure. Then we had Dizzy Gillespie who can play like he
does, but it was with the jaws. It was OK when he was
young, but now it is hurting him. So he will play a concert
and he may play two numbers on the trumpet and then
he will play conga drums. He’s a great conga player and he
plays all kinds of rhythms, but he does this to more or less
take the pressure off of blowing out his neck. So that’s the
first suggestion of any musician out here who’s trying to
learn how to breathe, and that comes from the diaphragm,
which I’m quite sure that you are being taught that today.
Back then, you didn’t have anyone to tell you about that
and we just didn’t have any jazz classes or seminars, etc.
It’s important to artists that have come along in this field.
My life today--I feel as though I’m like an ambassador
to jazz because I travel the world playing and the rest of
the time I’m doing many universities, colleges, and high
schools. Last year in Switzerland I even did a kindergarten
class for ages five to eight. Now what do you do or say to
little young ones in that category? Rhythm! You must
have rhythm. I felt as though that was the greatest start
they could ever have. If they had two little round sticks
to beat on, you can tell them, “OK, class. If we all do this
together we might get some rhythm out of it. I want you to
say, ‘Click the sticks, and then tap the foot.’ ” Then you can
get a rhythm, but you still have to have that beat. So eventually you can hit the stick and tap your foot alternatively,
and if you can get that to a pretty good speed, you can get
a rhythm out of that. We found a lot of times that many in
the class couldn’t do that. Teachers need to teach you how
to count: 1-ee-and-ah 2-ee-and-ah 3-ee-and-a 4.
I go on about my life’s story, and the first famous band
I played with was Benny Carter and I was a very good soloist at that time. I came from the good music program in the
Pottstown schools under the direction of Billy Lamb, Arlen
Saylor, and some other great teachers. I learned music correctly, because way back then in jazz you didn’t have that
many jazz artists that could read music like you can today.
It becomes very boring when you have to sit home and
practice scales, but that’s the bottom line: scales, scales,
scales. Then maybe you might be able to ad lib. In my time
with Benny Carter, he was so great as a teacher, helping me

John Bender

tunity to improvise more than
just playing arrangements.
During the meantime when
I played with Benny Carter’s
band, we would be playing
in Hollywood at the Trianon
Ballroom and we would get
off from work at 11 o’clock at
night. Miles Davis was in Benny
Carter’s band at that time, too
[probably April/May 1946], and
I’m quite sure you have heard
of Miles. Miles would say, “Hey,
come on, let’s go catch Charlie
Parker [Bird].” He came to work
at 12 midnight and he played
until 6 in the morning. But Bird
was the only musician hired, so
what was happening was that
we had Bird, and you had piano,
bass, and drums, but he was so
great, everyone wanted to play
with him. So we had a line of
bass players, a line of drummers,
and a line of bass players. This
is one thing that brought the
musician’s union in, because
at this club, the Miyako Club [in the Miyako Hotel at First
and San Pedro Streets], which today is the police department building, they brought the union in. So then it was
decided that if you were out jamming and you got caught,
you got fined, as well as the bandleader. So it became pretty strict. It used to scare me to death to go up and play with
Charlie Parker. I felt as though I could play the blues pretty
well, but he’d play Stella by Starlight and all those tunes
and he created a big difference there. He made you aware
that you had to get out and jam and study more about the
chord changes [harmony] of the music, which became a
necessity. If you want to improvise, you have to really learn
how to by playing scales and studying the instrument, and
if you have a chance to jam, it gives you a chance to experiment with what you have studied.
We would play in Las Vegas and we’d have baseball
teams in our bands and we would play Harry James’s band
in baseball, Jimmie Lunceford’s, Les Brown’s . . . so it’s just
more to it than just playing every day. It has to develop into
something that you love and you want to do all the time.
So my experiences made it very happy for me and led to my
joining Dizzy Gillespie, when bebop was still at its height at
that time. That meant that I had to really learn how to play
“the changes” to play bebop, as developed by Dizzy Gillespie and Charlie Parker.
Then I moved on to Count Basie, off and on for 19
years. I became very famous on a tune that was recorded
three different times with Count Basie called Makin’
Whoopie, especially the version on Frank Sinatra’s album
with Basie, Sinatra at the Sands, in Las Vegas [recorded in
early 1966], which is one of the only instrumental tunes
on this album. Basie had respect for what I did with the
plunger, which was really wonderful. One time, he listened in the booth to the playback of a recording we did
featuring my solo and he came out and says, “Well, that’s
pretty good, but don’t try to play all you know in just this
one number.” I was trying to impress him that I knew all
about these chords and everything and he’s saying, “Oh,

Al Grey teaching ESU students plunger technique, 1990.

very, very much in my playing of reading and phrasing, but
not that much as a soloist. The phrasing for the first trumpet player and the first alto player, they had to form a creative style that when others listen to them, they’ll too make
a big sound. For instance, like in Benny Carter’s band since
he played alto sax, he had really great reed men.
So moving from Benny Carter, whose musical style
contained many long notes in a relaxed manner, I’ll give
you a little demonstration [Al Grey scats], and it was fun to
play in that manner. I left Benny Carter because he broke
up his band to compose for the movies and I went with
Jimmie Lunceford, who needed musicians and selected me
to come and replace Trummy Young in the band, one of the
all-time great trombone players. He sang and he played
and my job was to learn his solos exactly like he played
them, which actually wasn’t good for me, but it was a job
and it was leading me to what I wanted to do, play jazz music. Anyway, in Benny Carter’s band where you played everything long, in Jimmie Lunceford’s band, everything was
the opposite. Everything was short. So that same tune I
sang a minute ago would go like this [Al Grey scats]. So it
took a period of time to change from a long dotted quarter
to a quarter or an eighth to make them shorter, which was
another way of creating a style, so that’s why his band was
famous, because he had a unique style. His birthday and
my birthday were the same day, June 6. Lunceford attended
Fisk University and everything in his band was really
strict and he directed the band with a long baton, like Paul
Whiteman, which looked like a metronome. And you had
to sit up straight all the time, and he would bust a man for
clapping going on, and when he died in 1947, I went with
Lionel Hampton and there it was just the opposite. He
made you clap your hands, which was another thing that
gave you more rhythm, plus helped you to gain a personality. As you may look at bandleaders, Dizzy Gillespie always
was cracking up, but every time he played, he really played
the music. So I was very fortunate to go with Lionel Hampton, just really relaxing and playing jazz. I had the oppor-

Fall / Winter 2015 • The NOTE

23

24

The NOTE • Fall / Winter 2015

played these fills. Fred
Astaire heard these fills
and he took my plunger
playing and made a
choreography to my
playing with dance
steps, he and [his
female dance partner]
Barrie Chase. [The
Basie Band appeared
on an hour-long NBC
television special with
Fred Astaire called
Astaire Time, broadcast
on September 25, 1960.
It’s viewable online by
searching “YouTube
Astaire Time.”] When
we went into the TV
studio to do it with
Fred Astaire, I couldn’t
read my part. At that
time they didn’t have
ways of teaching [and
arrangers didn’t have
a way of notating]
the different sounds
of plunger playing, so
they had different notes
written out for different
things I had done on
the original recording.
So here we are, out in
the studio, and they
pass out the music, 8
o’clock in the morning,
having donuts and coffee, and then say “OK,
let’s go!” We start,
and now I’m killing
Fred Astaire because
we get 8 or 12 bars into it and I am messed up because I
couldn’t play what he had heard on the record. Next thing
the band was laughing at me, saying, “We command a lot
of money to tape that because Al has it together!” And
you’re supposed to get these two numbers in the morning
together, but we didn’t because I was messing up. So we
were supposed to get off at 12 noon and I see Fred Astaire
is getting tired from spinning and they’re saying, “Cut!”
because it’s not together, so they say, “Well, you’re going to
lunch.” So the band and everyone goes to lunch at twenty
minutes to twelve and I say, “Well, let me hear that record,”
and I went into the studio’s listening room while they went
to lunch, and I listened. This is when I pulled out the sheet
music that I had and marked on it all these different sounds
that I’d created on the record. I had gotten really nervous
because of band members and especially Marshall Royal,
who is a real famous saxophone player still today, was the
“straw boss” who takes care of the band, getting out the
tunes, etc. So he kept on talking about how much money
we were going to make because Fred Astaire was making
all that money, we were making a little bit of money, and
the engineers were there and I’m holding up the whole
works. After lunch, Chief came out, which is Count Basie,
because we rarely called him Count back then, we called
Russ Chase

no. Simplicity.” At
this time, Mitch Miller
had an album out
titled Sing Along with
Mitch [1958]. So then
Basie came out with
this album Sing Along
with Basie [recorded
May 1958]. So they
wanted more or less a
melody and I learned
that you do have to
listen to your leader
for what he wants you
to do. You can’t be a
person that defies him
because you want to
play for yourself. That’s
a main point: that you
just can’t always play
for yourself. And so
he went right to the
point and he says,
“Well, I have a position
for you, but you have
to make things more
understanding to the
people that don’t play
music, they just listen.”
I stopped playing so
many notes, trying to
get more feeling out
of what I was doing,
because a lot of times
you learn in school,
technically, but then
you don’t “give up your
heart” when you play.
The reason is because Playing at a Denver Jazz Party, 1990.
you don’t have the feelings. And you have to
have feelings for playing jazz. If you continue on and have a
chance to jam a lot, you will find that out.
I was lucky to come along one of my signature techniques by accident with Lionel Hampton’s band. We had a
blues singer, his name was Sonny Parker, and when Sonny
Parker sang the blues he would leave a lot of holes [musical
rests] in what he would be singing. I would fool around a
lot of nights after having maybe a little taste here or there,
feeling good, and I would fill in these spots [behind him],
and so Lionel Hampton came up and said, “Hey, that’s IT
Gates” (he used to say “Gates”). “That’s IT, Gates, keep it
here, keep it here.” So I found myself playing fills for Sonny
and so what happened just became a thing that stuck. So
when I moved on from Lionel Hampton’s band and went
into Count Basie’s band, they had Joe Williams singing. So
I used to do all the fills and things for Joe Williams when
he would sing, and then then one day Ella Fitzgerald asked
me to do it, then Frank Sinatra, then Tony Bennett, then
Sarah Vaughan, who I just went to her funeral a couple of
days ago. So I became very much a “fill-in” player.
Count Basie recorded Five O’Clock in the Morning with
the vocal by Joe Williams. We actually recorded this song
from around four o’clock in the morning until after five
o’clock, and it was a tune that he sang, on this album, and I

John Bender

him Chief, and he
said, “Well, what’s
the problem?” I said,
“Chief, I just don’t
know.” I said, “Here it
is early morning and
we were at an early
morning club, but we
had played all night
and we had a little
taste and everything
like that and here I
don’t have nothing
this morning,” so they
sent out and got me
a bottle. I’ll never
forget, a bottle of Jim
Beam [bourbon]. I was
so nervous because the
guys were teasing me
and it was terrible. It
was the biggest crisis
of my career. And so
I took me a triple . . .
ughhhh! . . . and the
band came back and I
had marked all these Al Grey performing with the ESU Jazz Ensemble under the direction of Pat Dorian.
things. One take! It
you how to get another sound out of two, out of three, and
was done!
out of four.
That’s why I have a book on the market today on how
So a couple years ago [1985] I was called out to Holto play the plunger for trumpet and trombone. The ownlywood to make sounds for Quincy Jones and Steven
ers of the mute factory of Humes and Berg had asked me
Spielberg for the movie The Color Purple. Quincy had all
to do this book. Willie Berg is my personal buddy who had
these different kinds of sounds from writing many things
brought me my mute when he didn’t have a store or anyfor me in Basie’s band and he knew that not many tromthing, and he would make mutes and he would go around
bone players could do that at that time. There are a lot of
and these mutes were in these two baskets. Now, today
they have this big, big, big factory in East Chicago and they trombone and trumpet players that can do that today. Way
back, you had the famous Cootie Williams and all of them,
make mutes for the world. At that time he had invented
but there was no one to teach or to tell anyone about this.
this mute, which he called the Pixie mute, and he gave me
Also, back in those days there were a lot of musicians who
this aluminum mute. It was so expensive to make that
WOULDN’T help you to learn to play your horn. They
they don’t make them out of aluminum today, they make
used to talk about Louis Armstrong, using the handkerthem with other types of metal. But anyway, he asked me
chief and all of that, but it wasn’t true! What was happento write this book and I said, “OK,” but then I discovered
ing was that Louis Armstrong played different notes with
that I didn’t know what I was doing MYSELF when I used
different fingerings. When Red Nichols and all these other
the plunger. It was a natural talent that I had that I could
famous trumpet players would come by to see what Louis
play this mute. So I did research on myself and I found
Armstrong was doing, he didn’t want them to know. So he
that for trumpets you put the plunger up to the horn and
would take that handkerchief and put it over his hands so
take the plunger away a half of an inch. Then I discovered
they couldn’t see what he was doing. But they thought that
another half of an inch away, and the next one, a half inch
he was able to do all of this, but it was all untrue because
away up until five positions: one to five. I can teach you
Pops used to tell us. Pops couldn’t read [sheet music], so he
how to get five different sounds out of the same note. [Al
used to sit in with Count Basie’s band, with Thad Jones and
Grey scats the sounds.] This is where you can create your
sound and you will be original and you’re on your own; you Snooky Young, to improve his reading and he began to get
pretty good at reading, see? We had so many [musicians]
wouldn’t sound like me or any other player, it would be up
that just could NOT read, but by me coming from the
to you to learn how to do the five sounds/positions which
are in the book. It took almost two years to write the book Pottstown band that was strict on learning the reading, I
was very fortunate to come along in that period. But today,
and [by analyzing my techniques] it taught me how to play
these positions. I know what I’m doing now, so I can single because of schools and everything, you’re getting it all.
I want to say before I finish, again, that it’s such a big
out any note or sound effect, which is a necessity when
honor
to be here because up in this area I have some very
playing the [plunger and Pixie] mutes. You know Glenn
dear, close friends. One of them I lost a couple of years
Miller [and his brass section’s plunger sounds]. In those
ago, and that was Al Cohn. We were very much buddies
days it was just two [sounds –open and closed]. [Writand it was several years before I discovered that my son,
ten as] Plus [+] and o. [Scats doo and dot.] But now I can
Mike Grey, was in school at the Berklee College of Music
show you how to get all these different notes in between
with his son, Joe Cohn. I would go up to Berklee, Mike’s
those two, which are like a one and a five, so I can show

Fall / Winter 2015 • The NOTE

25

Peter Manders

school, and play sometimes.
pictures that I brought along today to show and to give to
On a particular night [in late December 1987] we were
Urbie Green’s son, because I don’t think that Urbie has any
playing in Chicago at the Blackstone Hotel [Joe Segal’s Jazz
of these pictures.
Showcase]. The night before, we had played for New Year’s
I’m really looking forward to this gathering this
Eve, with Red Rodney, Buddy Tate, Al Cohn, and myself,
evening, because again, I’ve sent music in advance and
but now New Year’s night [it might have been December
this afternoon around two o’clock we’re going to explore
30] he didn’t come down, so we thought, you know, it’s the about the plunger mute with the students and I’m going
to demonstrate how we can get these sounds. I imagine it
holidays, whatever, but he wasn’t well. We had a doctor in
will grow on you. I’m saying again, musicians don’t have to
the audience and the doctor said, “Get him to the hospital
become a jazz artist, since there’s so much room for you to
immediately, right away.” So it has become very personal
that Al’s son, Joe, has been playing with me ever since. I got become rich [?] in studio work, television, and cable [TV].
If you want to be a musiJoe away from Artie Shaw’s
band, which is a job, but if you
cian, you must keep on
want to be a good musician,
practicing. When I was
with Jimmie Lunceford, I
you have to learn to be on
got a letter from Trummy
your own, to play in any band,
Young and in it he wrote,
or ad lib . . . to be a soloist.
“Yeah, you’re doing real
You can’t do that in Artie
fine.” But then he wrote
Shaw’s band because you have
around the edges of this
to still play exactly what Artie
note “Practice . . . practice
Shaw played 40 [or 50] years
. . . practice . . . practice .
ago. So how does a young
. . practice.”
person learn to be a good muI would like to open it
sician if they’re playing the exup now for any questions
act same thing over and over
anyone would like to ask.
every night? It becomes very
much of a terrible thing. It’s
Any questions?
just like my son when he came
out of college and he went
Audience member:
with the Broadway show Ain’t
Are you going to play for
Misbehavin’ to have a job, and
us.
he had to play the exact same
AG: Play for you?
notes every night until it just
Yeah, I’ll play something
drove him off the wall and he
for you. Anyone else have
had to get out of there.
anything to say, anyAl Performing at the Nice Jazz Festival in France, 1982.
But anyway, I’m just scanone? Time’s running
ning over many things that
out. OK. No quescan lead to greatness. So Al Cohn’s son, Joe Cohn, will be,
tions. I’m going to show you what I was speaking about,
without a doubt in my mind, one of the world’s greatest
since you asked me to play. You take a mute, which the
guitar players. I have wanted to come to this area for a long students in the band coming in have been informed of, and
time, due to Urbie Green, and I’m looking forward to meet- you make your mute even with the bell so that your hand
ing his son this afternoon, to show everyone that we have
holds this in the right spot. I don’t have my plunger with
feelings and things like that since we’ve always been very
me, since it’s still in the room for rehearsal, but it covers
close. Phil Woods and I recently played together, on Febthe bell like this and the heel of the hand is considered the
ruary the 12th, at a heart thing for Ella Fitzgerald [Hearts
“hinge” because it allows you to separate to get the sounds
for Ella at Avery Fisher Hall in Manhattan, a benefit for the [plays sound effects on the trombone, using the plunger].
American Heart Association], which I got a card from her
You can get sound effects for movies like the sound of
thanking me yesterday. I brought it along with me because
a train chugging along. So I’ll play you one little tune
it’s deep in the heart, especially since I just attended the
because it’s about that time [plays the melody of Cloudfuneral of Sarah Vaughan. When I returned home, here is
burst - Mvt. 5 of the Grand Canyon Suite by Ferde Grofé,
this card from Ella, and in the meantime I have received
and then improvises] [audience applause]. I thank you.
some pictures from the night of February 12th when we
That’s another thing: you must warm up! Take five or ten
had an all-star band.
minutes to warm up your horn. I missed a couple of notes
It featured the greatest musicians in the business, so
there because I just picked the horn up cold. I appreciate
that means Urbie Green. The reed section was famous
it and thank you very, very much for stopping by for this
artists like Stan Getz, Jimmy Heath, Phil Woods, David
little talk about my life. It has been very good for me in
Sanborn, Nick Brignola, and Benny Carter. The tromthe last five years, but it has been very shaky in jazz many
bones were Slide Hampton, Urbie Green, Jack Jeffers, and
years, too, because it’s not always designated that you get
Carl Fontana . . . all great trombone players. Trumpets
out there and everyone knows you. But once, if you keep
were Clark Terry, who was here at your school last year in
trying, someone will notice you and someone will take you
February, Jon Faddis, Red Rodney, and Joe Wilder, and you
on. That’s my vow in life today, to look out for Joe Cohn.
can’t get no better than that! The rhythm section was Ray
He didn’t have anyone to actually look out for him, but now
Brown, Bobby Durham, and Louie Bellson. We had four or he is playing wonderful. And I thank you very much for
five different great piano players: Tommy Flanagan, Oscar
coming. Thank you. [Audience applause].
Peterson, George Shearing, Hank Jones. So they sent these

26

The NOTE • Fall / Winter 2015

U

Zoot Sims: a True Master

Helene Snihur

Editor’s Note: For this year’s Zoot Fest (held about

By Bill Dobbins

S

hortly after completing my M.M. degree at Kent
State University in 1970, I moved to a suburb of
Cleveland, Ohio, with my wife, Daralene, and our
two-­year-­old son, Evan. I had the great fortune of playing
jazz seven nights a week at two well-­paying clubs for the
duration of our residence there, right up until our move
to Rochester, New York, where I joined the faculty of the
Eastman School of Music in the fall of 1973.
A musician friend of mine, who was a few years older
than I was, and who often hired me for jingle recording
dates, would come in to hear me occasionally at one of
the venues where I played. In our conversions during the
breaks he sometimes offered the observation, “You know,
you’re a really great piano player, but your solos sound
like exercises.” Although his remark really was meant in
a constructive way, it really annoyed me at first; but after
thinking about it, I realized he was right. Having been
mainly self-­taught in jazz, in the days when jazz was still
forbidden in most university music departments and conservatories, I hadn’t been exposed to much well informed
criticism. This one remark stuck with me, and eventually
taught me the great value of constructive self-­criticism.
At the time, however, the realization that my playing
was not very melodic sent me into such a state of creative
purgatory that I immediately searched through my record
collection for examples of what, to my ears, were solos
that sounded like musical stories told in an expressive and
compelling manner through melodic phrases that included clear thematic motifs, informed by the greatest music

a week ago at the time I am writing this), we all had
the pleasure of experiencing some knowledge and
insight into the music of Zoot Sims from one of the
most accomplished educators I have had the pleasure
of meeting and working with: Bill Dobbins. Originally
scheduled to appear at Zoot Fest, Bill could not make
it this year. However, he gladly sent me his portion
of the program as an electronic document so I could
include it in his absence. After presenting his material (which could not have fit the program better, by
the way) I knew I had to include it in this issue of The
Note, for all the readers to enjoy. There is plenty here
for musicians and music enthusiasts alike, and it is a
great addition to the written material we have here at
the ACMJC. Thanks Bill!

from the American songbook, the classical masters and
the blues, and an irresistible rhythmic drive that made it
impossible to keep the body still. Being a pianist, the first
indisputable jazz master I discovered in my search was
Wynton Kelly. However, it wasn’t long before I fell completely in love with the tenor saxophone artistry of Zoot
Sims.
During my high school years in the early 1960s I
bought many Gerry Mulligan recordings, including those
of his mid 1950s sextet and those of the highly acclaimed
Concert Jazz Band, in some ways a forerunner of the
Thad Jones/ Mel Lewis Jazz Orchestra. Although I greatly
admired the playing of all the soloists of these groups,
and still consider most of them to be great melodists and
real swingers, there was something about Zoot’s playing
that seemed to bring me back, time and time again, to the
tunes in which he was given plenty of space. As I listened
more attentively to Zoot’s playing I began to notice things
that I wasn’t so aware of earlier on. Inadvertently, my preoccupation with technical virtuosity for its own sake had
caused me to miss some of the most important elements
in the playing of the jazz masters.
First and foremost was Zoot’s irrepressible sense
of swing, no matter what the tempo was. Although he
swung powerfully yet effortlessly at the fastest tempos, he
seemed to truly love whatever tempo was being occupied
in a particular tune. At medium or medium slow tempos
he rarely became excessively involved in doubling the
tempo, but was usually content to just swing comfortably
and allow the listener to enjoy the special quality that is

Fall / Winter 2015 • The NOTE

27

unique to each particular tempo.
Next, his playing was expressive in a natural and
uninhibited manner. His use of vibrato, a wide dynamic
range, and the expressive devices we all associate with
great jazz, such as scoops, fall offs and growls made it
clear that the listening audience was important to him
and that he intended to communicate his musical message
in a clear and unmistakably personal manner. Zoot’s playing conveyed much of the human condition, from boundless joy to brooding melancholy and, when appropriate,
an unselfconscious sense of humor; and it always sounded
honest, never preachy or pretentious.
Finally, his musical content was a perfect balance of
simple melodic ideas that any interested and attentive
listener could understand, with imaginative development
that was often spellbinding and always engaging and
entertaining. The infectious rhythms and the melodic contours always seemed to be perfectly suited to each other.
Moreover, the command of a number of basic rhythms
and their extension or combination seemed to facilitate
and clarify the motivic development, just as the rhythmic
cadence and manner of delivery can enable a great storyteller to clearly communicate important details or subtle
connections in the plot as the story unfolds.
More simply put, perhaps as much as any jazz master
whose music has inspired me, Zoot didn’t just improvise
a solo; he most often improvised a song. The longer I have
been involved in playing jazz, the more I realize just how
difficult and evasive that ability can be. As Red Mitchell
expressed it in one of his songs, “Simple isn’t easy, it’s the
hardest thing to do.”
During my first years on the faculty at the Eastman
School I began to listen to a lot of early jazz and swing,
especially because I was responsible for teaching a jazz
history course for the jazz majors who were in our masters degree program in jazz studies. I then began to hear
that much of Zoot’s musical personality was influenced
by the playing of Lester Young and Ben Webster. This underscores the fact that the playing of the most important
musicians who have contributed to the ongoing evolution of jazz invariably exhibits two aspects, each of equal
importance. Their playing brings some recognizably new
and personal element while, at the same time, expressing
a clear connection to the essence of all that came before.
Before saying a few words about some particular
Zoot Sims solos, I would like to share some narrative
about Zoot by one the most important jazz arrangers and
composers, Bill Holman. I visited Holman in Hollywood
during the summer of 2011 and recorded several days of
conversations about his life in the music and his memories
of experiences with many of the musicians and bands he
has worked with during his long and illustrious career. We
hope to complete this project for release sometime next
year. When I asked him what jazz soloist he had been
most eager to collaborate with, he replied without hesitation, “Zoot Sims.” Here are some of his recollections.
“When I joined Kenton in early 1952, the band
included Conte Candoli and Buddy Childers. Frank
Rosolino wasn’t there yet. Don Bagley was the bassist.
Frankie Capp was the drummer. Later Rosolino came on,
and then Zoot Sims. But Zoot was the bright spot of my
life at that time. Being around him and hearing him play

28

The NOTE • Fall / Winter 2015

every night was really heavenly. Zoot was total honesty,
both personal and musical. In Santa Ana, where I grew
up, everybody was kind of closed up. And a guy like Zoot
who was wide open to everything, good and bad, was just
amazing to me. So I got to spend a few months with him.
We travelled in the same car.”
“If you remember a comic strip called “Smilin’ Jack”,
it was about a bunch of bush pilots, and there was this
one guy called Downwind. The only time you would see
him is when he was piloting a plane, and you were sitting
in the right hand rear seat, and all you saw of him was
the rear quarter of his head. He never turned around or
anything, it was just like that. So he was downwind. Well,
Zoot sat in that seat, so he started calling me Downwind.
All he saw was that back view of my head.”
“Anyway, that was really nice to hear him play. I’d met
him a few months before. You know, I’d really come to
appreciate him. Dick Meldonian, as I said, got me listening to those guys. And in a few years, I’d say from 1948
to 1952, he was like a god to me. But he always looked
so fierce, you know, with a grumpy kind of facial expression. He always seemed to have a scowl on his face. And I
thought, “Oh, boy! I’d like to meet him, but I’m scared.”
“We were in New York, and he was playing an off
night at Birdland, and I made up my mind I was going to
meet him. So I went over to him and said, “Hey, Zoot. I’m
Bill Holman and I’m playing with Kenton. He says, “Hey!
How’r ya doin’!” He was so friendly. We wound up going
back to my hotel room and hanging out.”
“So that was the last time I saw him until one night,
when the band was in Milwaukee, I was struggling
up the circular staircase with my horn, and this voice
says, “Here, let me help you with that.” It was Zoot. He
grabbed my horn and helped me up. So that was the beginning, and the night he left Kenton’s band was the night
I gave my notice that I was leaving.”
“We’d had a bus wreck on a freeway. We were doing a tour, travelling in two busses, and they didn’t have
rules then about how long bus drivers could drive. And
the bus driver went to sleep, and he rammed into the back
of a semi that was pulling out of a rest stop. The whole
trombone section had been asleep in their seats, and the
impact threw them into the seat in front. Just about every
one had smashed chops.”
“So we had to get a trombone section. We were in
Philadelphia, and Bill Russo knew a bunch of guys from
Chicago, so he called one and we got a new trombone
section. Stan said, “Well, we have to rehearse tomorrow,
‘cause we’re getting’ a new trombone section.” So Zoot
said, “Well, we know our parts, so why do we have to
rehearse them?” Stan said, “Because I said so, Jack!” He
always called him Jack. He could never quite get out the
name Zoot. So Zoot kept saying, “Why us? Why do we
have to do that? We’ve just been through this terrible bus
wreck.” Finally Stan said,
“You better give your notice.” So Zoot said, “You got
it.” Two weeks later he was out, and that’s when I gave my
notice.”
When I asked Holman to describe the qualities that,
for him, made Zoot such a special soloist, he replied,
“Well, the time, for one thing. And he had a very original
way of playing, you know. He was surrounded by bebop

roots, but he wasn’t playing any bebop licks. And there
was such emotionalism in his playing. He was not afraid
of playing a whole note, if that’s what got the idea across.
It’s just, again, total honesty, you know. This is jazz playing! The energy is just somethin’ else.” I agree wholeheartedly with Holman’s observations.
Now I would like to say a few words about three of my
favorite Zoot Sims solos from his recordings with Gerry
Mulligan. It would be impossible to narrow my favorite
Zoot solos to less than a few dozen, so I decided to focus
on solos from the Mulligan groups because they were so
important in shaping my understanding and appreciation
of this great American art form we call jazz.
Broadway is one of my favorites from the Mulligan
sextet book, and comes from the first recording by the
group for the Emarcy label in 1955:Presenting the Gerry
Mulligan Sextet. The piece features two marvelous choruses of vintage Zoot, as well as an exceptional arrangement by Bob Brookmeyer, who also played valve trombone
in the group.
The theme of Broadway is cast in a typical AABA
song form with four eight-­bar phrases. The A sections
emphasize the tonic note in the key of Eb, and the blue
third, Gb, is prominent in the concluding phrase of these
sections. These basic elements of the theme clearly play a
role in Zoot’s solo. In fact, the tonic note already gets the
listener’s attention in the B section of the theme. Here,
as occasional occurred in Mulligan’s groups, the horns
improvise collectively in a contrapuntal manner instead
of stating the actual melody of the B section. Although
this section modulates to other key centers before returning to the main key in the final A section, the tonic note,
Eb, actually fits every chord of the B section except for
Bb7, which brings the music back the key of Eb. While
trumpeter Jon Eardley, Brookmeyer and Mulligan spin out
colorful interwoven melodic lines during the B section,
Zoot simply plays the single note, Eb, restating it with emphatic, swinging rhythms, and then finally moves down
stepwise to resolve to the Bb7 chord that leads to the concluding A section of the theme. This melody of one note is
a great example of how easy it can be to make eight bars
of captivating music.
Zoot is the first soloist, and he begins his first chorus
with a strong emphasis of the tonic note, Eb, on beats one
and four of bar 1 and beat three of bars 2 and 3. After
two longer phrases that convey a strong blues feeling, the
second A section begins with a long D, a half step below
the Eb from the first A section, like a teasing reference
to the solo’s beginning. The second A section ends with
another bluesy phrase that returns to the opening Eb at
the beginning of the B section. Here, however, the Eb
feels different, as the harmony starts its motion to the
new key centers heard in the B section of the theme. The
final A section of the first chorus begins with a return
to the opening Eb, and a recurrent D leading back to Eb
at the end of the first chorus and the start of the second
chorus. The same Eb returns at the end of each 8-­bar
section of the second chorus. The solo ends with a final
bluesy phrase that emphasizes the blue note, Gb, before
coming to rest on this Eb that was prominent through the
entire solo and was played throughout the B section of the

theme.
Otherwise, Zoot makes use of the simplest technics of
thematic development, which give the solo clear musical
continuity that musicians and non-­musicians alike can
follow to some degree. These include repetition, sequence
(that is, the recurrence of the same musical phrase or
shape, but starting on a lower or higher pitch), rhythmic
repetition (where the rhythm is repeated but the melodic
shape varies), and rhyming (where two or more long
phrases end with the same easily recognizable rhythm).
Just as important is the fact that Zoot leaves ample space
between phrases, enabling an interested listener to follow the musical thread in which each phrase is related to
earlier statements.
(Plays Broadway recording.)
As I’ve included Some of Bill Holman’s recollections
about Zoot, I’ve chosen two Holman arrangements for
Mulligan’s Concert Jazz Band to illustrate other aspects
of Zoot’s improvising. They were both recorded live in
1960. First is Go Home, a slow blues by Ben Webster that
was recorded earlier on the quartet album, Gerry Mulligan
Meets Ben Webster. Holman’s writing is economical but
masterful, whether in simple backgrounds or dramatic full
ensemble statements.
The soloing by Mulligan, Brookmeyer and Zoot is full
of spontaneity, patience in sticking with specific musical ideas and the good taste to use the written ensemble
material as a springboard for improvised dialogue and
interaction. And each soloist is able to find a path that is
quite different from the others. Zoot’s responses to the
exclamations of the ensemble at the beginning of his extended solo are especially effective, as are his down home
blues statements over the final sustained chords.
(Plays Go Home recording.)
I would like to close with Holman’s arrangement of
the Mulligan line, Apple Core, which is based on the chord
changes of the old standard, Love Me or Leave Me. This is
the kind of up-­tempo tour de force that both Zoot and
Mulligan’s band could deliver effortlessly. Holman says,
“I really wrote it for Zoot, and did a lot of hip things for
him playing with the band, like he’s got some tenor lead
in there, where he doubles the ensemble. It’s what I could
conceive of him doing with a big band.”
In the middle of Zoot’s extended solo there’s an
intense section with unison saxophone lines that seem to
spur him on. The extended stop time section is breathtaking and leads to some truly irrepressible swinging by
soloist, rhythm section and ensemble alike, capped by a
final stop time solo break and a short solo cadenza over
the final ensemble chord.
Before listening to this final selection, I would like to
applaud all the organizers and staff for continuing to support and celebrate the marvelous music of Zoot Sims and
Al Cohn, and to thank Matt Vashlishan for inviting me
to participate in this year’s festivities. I definitely intend
to celebrate this music in person with all of you at next
year’s Zoot Fest. In the mean time, it was a pleasure to
put together this short homage to one of my jazz heroes,
and I wish you all the very best of times in continuing the
celebration.
(Plays Apple Core recording.)

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David Liebman - Straight Talk
Understanding the Common
Qualities that Artists Possess
Part 2 of 2

O

Matt Vashlishan

f course you know that one of
the elements of jazz is what
we call spontaneity, spontaneous improvisation. The whole idea of
spontaneity and flexibility, the ability
to change in mid course and alter
plans, not be upset, to try something
different on the spot, in the moment,
is really something that’s a good
attribute to have in life because we
can’t tell what’s going to be coming
down the road. In jazz, again, the
music demands that we are like that
on a musical level. You have to be like
that, otherwise we couldn’t handle
this music. We’d be better in classical
music, which is knowing what’s coming up. The great classical musicians,
of course, are spontaneous in their
performance but for the most part
they have a game plan that they have
practiced and they have studied. We
have a game plan in which the premise is spontaneity and to deal with
what’s coming at you. That’s brings in
one of the great things about playing
jazz -- the interaction with the other
people. It’s the fact that I really don’t
know what the drummer is going
to do; I don’t know what the piano
player is going to do. We have some
kind of guide, we have some kind of
plan but I’m not sure. Taking that
into real life makes for a kind of attribute in one’s personality that I think
is very handy to have which is the
ability to change and not to be stuck
in one way. We never know what’s going to happen, even though we think
we know what’s going to happen. So
again, I think the music makes that a
common attribute among jazz musicians: flexibility, spontaneity, loving
to take a chance. We dig that. In fact,
without it, we probably wouldn’t be
as happy as people. That’s part of our

Note: The Jazz Masters Seminar

was taught at East Stroudsburg
University by Professor Patrick
Dorian from 2000 through 2008.
In this unique course Professor
Dorian prepared undergraduate
and graduate students for ten
guest speakers and performers
each semester by lecturing about
the impact of these musicians
on the jazz world. The classes
were interspersed with presentations by the musicians, which
were open to the community.
Each semester also featured three
evening concerts. Over the years,
110 presentations enhanced the
cultural life of the campus and
the community, with a total attendance each semester of 1,200
people. These lectures and concerts are archived on videotape
in the Al Cohn Memorial Jazz
Collection.
David Liebman’s summary
speech on April 26 of the 2000
spring semester incorporated the
premise of Steven Covey’s bestselling book 7 Habits of Highly
Effective People, aligning it with
the careers of the upcoming
speakers.
By Patrick Dorian

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The NOTE • Fall / Winter 2015

makeup.
Finally, on my little short list
here, probably the most important
thing that summarizes everything is
individuality. One of the understood
goals that a musician looks for in the
final result is that after learning what
came before, what everybody else is
doing, what everybody else has
done---what one goes for is an
individual voice. Now in ordinary life,
everybody had an individual speaking
voice. Your tone of voice is individual,
the way you speak, the way you
phrase things, there are no two
people that are alike. In jazz, in this
art form, individuality is the main
goal. You strive for individuality
through the music, not only though
your personality, not through what
you wear or through how you talk,
but how you play that instrument.
And I always say to the serious
students, can you tell who it is from
the first note? Those of you who
know the music, can you tell that
that’s so-and-so from the first or
second note they play no matter what
song they play, no matter what period
of history they played in? It’s like can
you tell Picasso from Monet? Well, I
think you can, okay? Can you tell
Fellini from Woody Allen? Everything
and everybody has a signature in the
art field. In our field, individuality is a
big priority, at least to some. It’s not
something that everybody reaches or
cares about necessarily. Among
musicians this is an endless discussion. If I sat down with Phil (Woods)
and Bob (Dorough) (two of the
speakers during the course) and we
put on ten records now, we’d probably
end up discussing: “Well, this cat, I
don’t know. He sounds good, and
sounds OK, you know, he sounds like

a good musician, he’s done his
homework. But I can’t really identify
who it is, only who his influences are.
It just sounds like a big melting pot.”
And then somebody would put
something on and all three of us, or
all twelve of the speakers that you’ve
seen would go: “That’s him. I know
who that is. That’s that guy.”
      That quest for individuality and
the desire to bring it out was a really
important lesson to me. It’s what I
learned most from this music. I had
no idea about that. Nobody ever told
me that that’s the name of the game
or that you have to form your personality, and have a way of being in whatever you do from ordinary life to the
way you treat people to what your
work is. You inevitably are going to
have a style so best be it that you are
aware of it, develop and hone it to
where it is together so that at least
you are close to the way you want it
to be…as best as it can be because it’s
never a finished product. The important thing is that you are developing
it. And that point of individuality is
something that we, in different
degrees, sit down and think about.
That’s a good thing to learn from this
music because when you hear it, what
you’re hearing is a group of people
who pursue individuality at all costs.
In some cases, they really paid a lot
for it. That’s something that you
really don’t see too much in this
world: the pursuit, glorification,
exaggeration of the individual instead
of the group. And that’s one of the
great lessons from this music. On the
other hand we play with others and
are dependent upon cooperation and
egolessness. It’s a great balance.
       Now there are a couple of other
things that are unique to the field
which I’m not sure you’re going to
find too much of in the rest of the
world. We definitely live in a subculture. We are a dot of a dot of a dot on
a page. Now I’m sure you’ve heard
some of the people talk about that
aspect of it. What does it feel like to
be not in, forget the majority, not
even in the minority, to be kind of in
the corner in the sense of the entertainment world and show business.
Now if you’re Black in this country
you know that for sure, right? If
you’re short and have three legs, you
know about that. In other words, a lot
of people know about being different
in some way. Some more than others.

But this music thing isn’t about what
you came on the earth with, or what
you were born with. This is what you
chose to do. You chose to do something that is in the corner that is
definitely not in the mainstream, that
is not commercial, that is not going to
be popular. I don’t care what anybody
says, it is not meant to be popular in
my opinion. It’s like a little group of
people who know about this stuff.
You say Coltrane, boom, you say
Miles, boom, you say Bird, boom,
everybody knows. Everybody knows
everything I just said and all of its
implications and you may not even
know the other person. And then, if
you get more specific, you say record
number 1328 from the year 1949 and
it gets even more specific. So, this is
something that we jazz musicians
have definitely taken upon ourselves,
to not be part of the mainstream. We
really don’t care what anybody else
thinks. Now that’s a tough one
because all your whole life you’ve
been told to join the club. Everything
pushes you into the club. I’m talking
about doing something with integrity,
with moral principles and ethics, but
you’re choosing to be in the corner.
Now that’s something that you will
not find very much of in the real
world. And to me, that separates us
in some ways.
     When I was a teenager, I remember one thing I thought about way
before the music ever entered as a
viable entity. As much as I love my
parents and this has nothing to do
with them personally. They were
teachers, nine-to-five and so on. I said
to myself: “Man, there’s no way I’m
going to do that. No way. I will rob a
bank, anything, but I am not going to
do that.” Now, I don’t know where
that came from. I have no idea
because I had no models and knew
nobody that was like that. I came
from a very straight-ahead family in a
normal place and so on. But I knew I
wasn’t going to do that straight thing.
Luckily I found this music, otherwise
you know, who knows where we’d all
be. I always think about some of the
guys I know. If they weren’t playing
music they’d probably be among the
cleverest criminal minds there could
be, precisely because of all these great
things that we’ve been talking about.
Because if you turn these points into
the dark side, then you’ve got some
strong power.

      So there’s something about jazz
that is really unique. You go into rock
and roll or pop music, well you’re not
looking to be in the corner. Let’s face
it. You’re looking to be on the cover
of Time Magazine. You’re looking to
be a hit. And if you go into classical
music, just talking music, you’re
joining a gigantic thing -- not that it’s
popular either -- but you’re joining
something that’s established and well
funded. These things are understood.
But when you get into something like
jazz, or let’s say serious jazz, then
you’re going into the circle. It’s
esoteric and it’s a few people. And
that you have to accept. That’s
something that I think is unique to
this field of music, though of course
there are other fields of life which are
similar. This being non-conventional
increases the brotherhood that
musicians feel.
      I’m involved with teaching in
schools from all over the world. It’s
an organization that I am the founder
of. It consists of mostly 20-25 year old
students who are part of schools of
jazz from, at this point, 40 countries
on every continent. We’ve been doing
this for 12 years already. And what’s
always remarkable to me is the first
day we get together – we are in a
different country every year, this July
it’s in Paris – there are these fifty to
sixty young people from over twenty
countries. Within a day or two it’s
unbelievable how much more is in
common than different. And it’s
because of the music. Now of course
half of them can’t even talk to each
other, literally, because of the language as they come from different
places and so forth. But it’s unbelievable how much is understood those
first two or three days that we are
together. And that brotherhood is
what this music is about. If you put
together all these 12 people that
talked to you, this room would be
buzzing for the next 10 days. It’s just
a strong understanding - all different,
all unique, all individuals, all have
their own way of organizing things,
all the stuff I just said. But there is so
much more in common than there is
different. And that’s because of the
power of the music.
      So this is the final thing. If there
is ever anything in your life -- music,
religion, spirituality, something that
takes you to a point that shows YOU
things, that tells YOU truths -- you

Fall / Winter 2015 • The NOTE

33

have found Mecca. That will be a
fountain that will never run out.
Because you will run out, believe it.
But when you got that in front of you,
be it the sound, a vision, a story,
whatever it is that you have in front of
you, that will stay with you forever.
That light will shine brighter and
brighter because you get better and
better at recognizing it. It’s like
listening to it. You’re hearing jazz
now as a result of this class. Those of
you who continue to hear it five years
from now are going to hear it completely different. It’s the same with
this light I am referring to. You see
this light, and you’ll say, “Yeah, that
truth that I heard, that’s even brighter now than it was 10 years ago.”
How is that going to happen? That’s
the real lesson from what you’ve seen
with these people because you’ve
seen everybody in a very personal way
here. This is unusual. You didn’t just

see them on the bandstand playing.
Here you had people standing in front
of you for an hour, some showing
more than others and you asked them
questions or whatever. You never get
that view of people. And that one
thing that’s common to them is
music. That’s an experience that all
people should have, I hope, that
somewhere in their life, something in
their life makes them say, “Yeah, this
is something else!!”
Now by the way, this doesn’t
mean you have to become that. When
so and so sat down at thirteen and
took lessons or when I started with
my first teacher, it wasn’t like we
were thinking: “I think I’m going to
play with Miles Davis.” I didn’t even
know who Miles Davis was. I mean,
in fact, even five or ten years after
that, I still wasn’t thinking it. The
innocence of this pursuit is what I
love, because it means we are there

because we love the music and not
because we thought we were going
to make a fortune, or be part of this
subculture and be mysterious or look
hip or look cool. It had to do with the
power of the music. If that happens to
you, I urge you to seize upon it. That
will be a revelation that will guide the
rest of your life. We musicians meet
in our travels many listeners who are
so dedicated to the music, who love
the music so much. They don’t play or
maybe they play a little bit - they just
love it and it’s been a force for them
the way it’s been for me. And they’re
not musicians. Usually they do
something else in life that is positive
because they see that that’s the point.
That’s something that no matter what
you do, if you got that out of this
seminar, then you’ve gained something irreplaceable and special.

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Contributors & Acknowledgements
For additional information about the contributors to The NOTE, you can visit their websites:
Phil Woods: www.philwoods.com
David Liebman: www.daveliebman.com
Sue Terry: www.sueterry.net
Bill Dobbins: http://www.esm.rochester.edu/faculty/dobbins_bill/
Bob Dorough: http://www.bobdorough.com/
Special thanks to:
Marcia G. Welsh, Ph. D. Brenda Friday, Ph. D. and Edward Owusu-Ansah, Ph. D. for showing their support for
the Al Cohn Memorial Jazz Collection and providing an opportunity for you to enjoy this publication; Phil Woods for
his continuous humor and ability to remember and articulate such great stories; Bob Weidner for the great COTA
photographs; Sue Terry for her wonderful debut article; Phil Mosley for a great article and return to The NOTE; Pat and
Mary Dorian for returning as well and a job well done; Bill Dobbins for starting our relationship in The NOTE; Charles
de Bourbon for the graphic design and patience; and the ESU Library Staff (in particular this time, Kelly Smith!).

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Fall / Winter 2015 • The NOTE

35

Al Cohn performing at the COTA Festival in 1985.
Photographer nnknown.