This is Part Nine of a Continuing Story!
CLICK HERE to read Part One
CLICK HERE to read Part Two
CLICK HERE to read Part Three
CLICK HERE to read Part Four
CLICK HERE to read Part Five
CLICK HERE to read Part Six
CLICK HERE to read Part Seven
CLICK HERE to read Part Eight
CLICK HERE to read Part One
CLICK HERE to read Part Two
CLICK HERE to read Part Three
CLICK HERE to read Part Four
CLICK HERE to read Part Five
CLICK HERE to read Part Six
CLICK HERE to read Part Seven
CLICK HERE to read Part Eight
The year pretty much came to an end after our Spring Concert’s success. Much to my surprise, I hadn’t (yet) been run out of town on a rail! The summer passed with the pleasure of never ending bicycle rides with Cass, each of us toting a child strapped into a rear seat. Days were spent at the community swimming pool, or riding through the town parks to enjoy a picnic lunch together. The only financial advantage of the teaching profession is electing to receive your salary over a twelve month pay cycle, even though you’re in the classroom for only nine of those months. Yeah, the salary isn’t very good, but during the summer it feels like it is! As June turns into July, and July into August (I hear a song brewing here), teachers begin to feel the pull of revitalization. The week prior to Labor Day is the time to retool not only your office, but also your mind. Family bike rides are grudgingly replaced by the planning for new students, new arrangements, new rehearsals, and new concerts. Who would the new students be? Could I count on the same level of natural talent as last year? Would any of last year’s ensemble members be back this year, or had they all moved on to greener pastures?
The first faculty meeting focused on one new development that stood out for its innovation. The former prison inmate I had shared a room with during our first year pre-Labor Day orientation had successfully led the political battle to allow inmates from a nearby minimum security prison to attend our college during the day, returning to prison each evening for lockdown. This experimental program was innovative and revolutionary. It was welcomed with only a handful of faculty dissenters. I had no idea how this would impact my own music program. But I soon found out.
During auditions for the new Jazz Ensemble, the first new student to show up, tenor saxophone in tow was Tom, a prison-release inmate. Tom was excited to play music again, but noticeably skeptical about what to expect from a community college music program. It never occurred to me to ask Tom why he had been imprisoned. It didn’t matter. But I did ask him about his musical background.
“Oh, I’ve been around a little, Jeff,” he drawled. “In my younger years, I played on the road with James Brown, and a few other guys you probably never heard of.”
“You’re kidding, right?” I stammered.
“No, man, I’d dead serious,” he laughed.
Tom pulled out his sax and played a bit for me. Once I got up off the floor, I immediately invited him to play with the band! Tom played it all, from old-style Jazz to new-style Funk. His tone could be anything from mellifluous to raunchy, depending on the tune. My first thought was that Tom could be out playing with any top-notch professional group. But circumstances prevented that, so his participation in the college ensemble would have to suffice, at east for now. Strange, but I felt an obligation to make the band as good as it could be to give Tom the musical foundation he deserved. I knew he wouldn’t settle for less, so how could I?
The next one through the door was Rafael, a bassist from Brooklyn. Then Greg, a trombonist from The City; Alonzo, a pianist from who-knows-where-and-who-cares-anyway; and Harold, a saxophonist who, I would find out later, was also one soulful singer. Several students from last year returned, eager to play. By week’s end, we added a host of new talent: drummers; bassists; flute; alto sax; tenor sax; and, several vocalists, with more newbies arriving daily. I had the nuclei of several bands here. All I had to do was figure out how to utilize all their talents. Okay, I admit, it really wasn’t all that difficult! We would end up with one heck of a big band, plus several smaller ensembles of varying musical styles, to boot. But wait, there’s more! Young music students from surrounding high schools began showing up at our evening rehearsals, begging to be allowed to play in the bands. How could I say ‘no’? I couldn’t. And I didn’t. So, the big band became a Community Jazz Ensemble, open to all.
Yes, this was going to be a very interesting year!
The first faculty meeting focused on one new development that stood out for its innovation. The former prison inmate I had shared a room with during our first year pre-Labor Day orientation had successfully led the political battle to allow inmates from a nearby minimum security prison to attend our college during the day, returning to prison each evening for lockdown. This experimental program was innovative and revolutionary. It was welcomed with only a handful of faculty dissenters. I had no idea how this would impact my own music program. But I soon found out.
During auditions for the new Jazz Ensemble, the first new student to show up, tenor saxophone in tow was Tom, a prison-release inmate. Tom was excited to play music again, but noticeably skeptical about what to expect from a community college music program. It never occurred to me to ask Tom why he had been imprisoned. It didn’t matter. But I did ask him about his musical background.
“Oh, I’ve been around a little, Jeff,” he drawled. “In my younger years, I played on the road with James Brown, and a few other guys you probably never heard of.”
“You’re kidding, right?” I stammered.
“No, man, I’d dead serious,” he laughed.
Tom pulled out his sax and played a bit for me. Once I got up off the floor, I immediately invited him to play with the band! Tom played it all, from old-style Jazz to new-style Funk. His tone could be anything from mellifluous to raunchy, depending on the tune. My first thought was that Tom could be out playing with any top-notch professional group. But circumstances prevented that, so his participation in the college ensemble would have to suffice, at east for now. Strange, but I felt an obligation to make the band as good as it could be to give Tom the musical foundation he deserved. I knew he wouldn’t settle for less, so how could I?
The next one through the door was Rafael, a bassist from Brooklyn. Then Greg, a trombonist from The City; Alonzo, a pianist from who-knows-where-and-who-cares-anyway; and Harold, a saxophonist who, I would find out later, was also one soulful singer. Several students from last year returned, eager to play. By week’s end, we added a host of new talent: drummers; bassists; flute; alto sax; tenor sax; and, several vocalists, with more newbies arriving daily. I had the nuclei of several bands here. All I had to do was figure out how to utilize all their talents. Okay, I admit, it really wasn’t all that difficult! We would end up with one heck of a big band, plus several smaller ensembles of varying musical styles, to boot. But wait, there’s more! Young music students from surrounding high schools began showing up at our evening rehearsals, begging to be allowed to play in the bands. How could I say ‘no’? I couldn’t. And I didn’t. So, the big band became a Community Jazz Ensemble, open to all.
Yes, this was going to be a very interesting year!
© Jeff Resnick 2018
All Rights Reserved
All Rights Reserved