Old Plastic Records

When I realized that the website for WBDY-LP, the Binghamton, NY Community Radio Station (99.5 FM and on Patreon), had linked to this “Peace, Grace, and Jazz” blog, I thought I’d better add something here that noted how much fun it is to be back in radio each week. My show is called “Classic Vinyl Jazz,” and is a way for me to move through several hundred jazz LPs in my attic looking for music I had been ignoring for years. And actually play and listen to my favorite musical genre.

In previous years’ entries here, I’ve noted the other jazz shows I’ve produced and hosted: “Headset Jazz,” “Public Affairs and All that Jazz,” the B-103 “Jazz Brunch,” and “The Spirit of Jazz.” All were produced and aired in Richmond, VA, with the latter syndicated to a few cities by the Presbyterian Media Mission. Through the years, I had accumulated jazz LPs of all sub-genres (straight ahead, fusion, “contemporary,” etc.) thanks to record distributors, radio station music directors, and my own purchases. When stations dropped jazz or dropped off the broadcast spectrum entirely (WRGM, a 10,000 watt day-timer and WRFK, an FM sold by its owner Union Presbyterian Seminary), the records were orphans and I adopted them. (Truth be told, most of what I played on air was given me directly by those Columbia and Atlantic record reps; they knew I was one of only a handful of jazz deejays who would play — and therefore promote — their “product.” So, my personal library grew.)

When I left Richmond for my Vermont parish ministry, the jazz and rock records (rock from 20+ years producing “Celebration Rock”) were packed in boxes and occasionally played for my own pleasure. Ten years later, the collection found its way to the damp basement of our Ithaca, NY home which was just a parcel or two up from Cayuga Lake. Not the best storage space. Mildew. By this time, CDs were the media from which our music came, and the records were neglected.

Then came my retirement from active ministry, and our move to Owego, NY. The whole record collection was moved into the attic of the new house. I did wipe the jackets (covers) clean of mildew, and eventually the “moldy oldie” aroma disappeared. The record surfaces were miraculously clean, and still fine for broadcast. But I had other things to do with retirement, and the records remained on shelves, except for the times I’d pull one out to play on my only turntable while working on my model train layout in the sizable attic space. (The attic also held my reel-to-reel Revox tape recorder, big console speakers, and my early-marriage amp, all encouraging me to play an occasional LP as I “been workin’ on the railroad.”) Oddly, the Upstate NY weather and the attic’s seasonal challenges of frigid winters and summer sun have had no effect on the records, maybe because they are tightly packed onto the shelves up there.

Meanwhile, for several years I’ve co-hosted a television program produced by the Broome County (NY) Council of Churches, and late in 2023 I interviewed the manager of a low power radio station operated by the Bundy Museum of History and Art in Binghamton. The rest is recent history. I shared an idea for playing jazz exclusively off vinyl for an hour each week, and Andru’s advice was to record a few programs before airing the first one. Then as 2024 dawned, each program would be broadcast a couple of times a week. I thought we’d begin with 13 shows, rerun them, and then evaluate the process.

Turns out, I have now (as of this morning) recorded 22 fresh shows and aired no reruns. This is too much fun to let go. I look forward each week to choosing the music, recording the tracks, and adding my voice to the Audacity files to produce the program. I upload the final mix to WBDY-LP, and the station airs each program twice, once on Friday night and again on Saturday morning. I couldn’t be happier with the time slots! Plus, for a station with a comparatively small transmitter, the signal reaches almost the whole area of the Southern Tier’s “Triple Cities” of Binghamton, Johnson City, and Endicott and their immediate environs. Plus the program can be heard at the Bundy Museum’s website, and is available far and wide through Patreon, a subscription service.

I learned after the first shows had aired here that other community stations around the country could pick up shows they wanted to re-broadcast and add them to their schedules. So, I see that “Classic Vinyl Jazz” is now available on stations in Freeport, ME, San Antonio, TX, and through the Global Community Radio streaming network in Geneva, NY.

Finally, the title: “Classic Vinyl Jazz.” Yes, it’s all off vinyl records. Those range from the first jazz I bought while in high school to the LPs I bought last week. I regret that some of my recent favorite artists don’t have exposure on CVJ because they haven’t released any vinyl. But limiting the music to vinyl is my edge, my focus. As for “jazz,” I play it all, from Dixieland (a tiny bit) to big bands (too much, I admit), hoping to keep listeners happy. And the “classic” part? There’s the rub. To be sure, playing Brubeck’s “Take Five” and Herbie Hancock’s “Maiden Voyage” are bows to the true classics. But I also play classic tunes by less familiar artists, and keep things fresh by playing more contemporary jazz that (who knows?) might someday be a classic. Plus, heck, the vinyl itself is kinda classic. Right?

Besides, as I’ve said on the show, I could have simply titled the program “Old Plastic Records from My Attic.” And WBDY would be OK with that.

 

The Jazz “Room”

{ I’m estimating 30 entries about “room(s)” so far this season of Lent 2024. Too early for the homestretch? Perhaps. Today, another entertainment room.}

Maybe it’s not been too evident that the title of this blog is “Peace, Grace, and Jazz,” not “Rooms I Have Occupied.” Today I can add the “jazz” thing and combine it with a special room.

Once upon a time, our area was known primarily for shoe manufacturing. Endicott Johnson Shoe Company had factories in all three of what were known as the “Triple Cities” of Endicott, Johnson City, and Binghamton, NY. (Note the shoe manufacturer did not take its name from two of the “cities” mentioned; they were named after founders of the shoe company: George F. Johnson and Henry B. Endicott.) In addition to the huge factories, the benevolent founder affectionately known as Geo. F. built parks and carousels, homes, libraries, medical centers, recreation centers, a golf course, and a large theater for vaudeville, all to provide for the well-being of his workers. The theater’s name? The Goodwill.

The shoe business is gone now. Most of the factories are torn down, though some are being beautifully re-purposed for apartments. The EJ homes are still here, the golf course hosts a PGA Champions Tour event each summer, and the carousels still turn (and always for free). The hulk of a theater, once home to live music and then movies, still stands awaiting a very expensive renovation. Maybe.

Next door to the theater stands an old firehouse. Yes, I forgot to mention, Geo. F. made sure there were fire stations near the factories, just in case. While the old Goodwill sleeps, performance is alive and well in the re-purposed fire station, part of what is hoped to be the Goodwill Performing Arts Complex. With contributions from the Schorr Family, the Firehouse Stage occupies the garage where once big trucks awaited calls to action. And it is my jazz club.

Well, not mine exactly, but it’s where I go most often to hear local, regional, and sometimes national jazz talent. I have loved that music since my teen years, and still have fun introducing myself as a “Presbyterian minister and jazz DJ.” For well over 20 years, I played jazz on Richmond, Va. radio stations, and continue even in the September of my years (or is it November? Brrr.) to host a jazz show, “Classic Vinyl Jazz,” on a Binghamton, NY community FM station. Radio and CDs and LPs are great outlets for listening, but nothing beats live performances of any kind of music. So, there is this jazz spot in Johnson City.

On the outside it still has the look of a fire station. But inside, with seating around tables for four, the stage situated near the firehouse doors, a bar in the lobby area…well, it’s an intimate space for about 110 jazz lovers, as well as patrons who come for other kinds of music, comedians, drama, and small-scale musical productions such as “Into the Woods.” My experiences in jazz clubs are very limited. I’ve been to Blues Alley. The Bimhuis in Amsterdam, and the Jazz House in Copenhagen. And some Richmond restaurants that featured intimate jazz performances. That’s it. So, for me, the Firehouse Stage is THE jazz venue, and I try to make as many dates as I can. Joan goes with me frequently (bless her heart), and arriving to find a full house is almost as exciting for me as it must be for Mike Carbone who curates the artists’ appearances there.

Al Hamme

When I first went to the venue, local jazz legend, sax player, arranger, impressario, and retired Professor of Jazz Studies at Binghamton University Al Hamme brought in a stellar lineup of performers, but also hosted monthly jazz jams where local and regional musicians of varying talents shared their tunes. Now many were former jazz pros, some having played in well known big bands, but a few were wanna-be jazz folk not quite up to it. (Please, vocalist! Be like Columbus; discover a key and land on it!) But they got their share of applause.

Mike Carbone

When the jams had played out, the monthly jazz gigs became more a showcase for professional talents from far and wide. The jams were a great place to meet local musicians and fans, and I made a lot of friends there. But the new format has brought in folks from the Central NYS jazz community and beyond, introducing us to new talents and old pros alike. Mike Carbone, himself an exciting jazz sax virtuoso, has done a terrific job of varying the styles of jazz so we in the audience grow in appreciation of what the jazz stage has to offer.

From big bands to jazz trios, I’m in my happy place listening to live music in a special club where fire sirens once sounded an alarm and where now the music can be so hot one is happy for a nearby hose on the wall. Or, a drink from the bar.

So, where do YOU go for live music? Or, what “happy place” feeds your spirit with music of any sort?

Bobby Militello

Dena Derose

Sherrie Maricle

Eddy Allen

 

The Big Room at Red Rock

{Born of privilege, most of us spend our lives in all sorts of rooms, from bedrooms to offices and many, many other spaces surrounded (or not) by four walls. Today I write of a large room where music is made and preserved, where creativity explodes from inspiration and…engineering.}

When I was in radio in Richmond, I had invitations to do “voice work,” that is, narrations and commercials, recorded at a well-respected studio called Alpha Audio. You may recall my voice hawking the “Shirt-Tie-and Socks Box” from S&K Clothing, the perfect Father’s Day gift. Just kidding. But I do remember it. Alpha Audio was a state-of-the-art recording studio for way more than voice work. Local and nationally-known musicians recorded demos, singles, and albums there, including an old friend Steve Bassett (“Sweet Virginia Breeze”). When Steve was in the studio for another gig, he helped record my “Celebration Rock” jingle, singing with the Volunteer Choir and playing the studio’s Hammond B-3 organ. Listen here:

It was all those years ago…but I still remember being impressed with the live sounds coming from the performance studio, as well as the complex audio mixing console that a genius named Carlos commanded in the control booth. Magic happened there.

More recently, and with more regularity, I’ve encountered such wonder and admiration in another studio, this one in the Poconos of Northeastern Pennsylvania. Red Rock was built from the ground up by Kent Heckman. He designed the structure, the technological innards, and runs the place like a digital sherpa, guiding even the well-known pros into the highest elevations of their best work. All so it can be recorded and shared with millions of listeners.

Kent Heckman and Bill Carter looking into the main studio

Who are the pros? The Red Rock website lists scores, but here are a few: Keith Jarrett, Phil Woods, Pat Metheny, John Abercrombie, Rufus Reid, Leon Redbone, Randy Brecker, and my piano-playing, jazz composing pastor friend the Rev. Bill Carter. It was Bill’s recording sessions that took me to Red Rock four times over almost a decade. Bill’s Presbybop bands have occupied the big room and the surrounding smaller isolation booths to record several CDs, and I’ve recorded “The Making of… [albums]” for short videos you can find on YouTube. (I’ll post a link to the latest one below.)

Mike Carbone and Jeff Stockham during the recording session

Watching musicians gather for a session, catch up and share stories, then enter the room and unpack instruments, tune up, and rehearse…and then launch into the music…while Kent is adjusting mics, then doing his magic (that word again) with the massive (and beautiful) console — well, the whole thing is a wonder to me. I’m no musician, and no engineer, so I just gape. And focus my cameras on the whole scene. Someone just a bit flat? Kent can fix that; no need to record the whole thing again. Even the seasoned pros might need a little advice on what might make the tune just right, and they’ll trust Kent to know. His thirty years of experience build that trust the minute they enter the studio.

Bill Carter and Presbybop were recording Bill’s “Jazz for the Earth” CD, and in walks NEA Jazz Master David Liebman to add his soprano sax. Very cool. Or, maybe “hot?” Rad? Or, when Bill recorded his Jazz Requiem “Lux Aeterna” the instrumental tracks were recorded that morning, and the eight singers of the area’s “Lyric Consort” spent the afternoon singing the vocal parts. Then in the blink of an eye, vocals and instrumental parts were mixed into a master recording and the result is a stunning and inspiring musical remembrance of ones we’ve lost. Watch the video below and experience the (here it comes again) magic.

So that’s another of the music rooms I enter and thoroughly enjoy. Some for creating and some for listening. All adding to the celebration of life.

 

The Forum: Our Music Room

{With little planning or aforethought, I am using the 40 days of Lent to write again, just for my own sake, and this year using “room(s)” as my theme.}

When my friend David Cook and I were in tenth grade, we went to Binghamton to see the movie “Ben Hur.” David was interested in the film; I was intrigued by the theater. It had been built in 1919 as a vaudeville venue, The Binghamton Theater. It was also a grand setting for the emerging art of “moving pictures.” When I was growing up in the area, the place had been shuttered for years, the pipe organ removed, and the marquee dark.

(A previous entry in this series has already noted my youthful obsession with movie houses.)

In 1960, the old place was renovated into the luxurious “Capri Theater,” with plush (for those days) “rocking chair” seating in the Loge, big wide screen, and surround stereophonic sound. It was quite a step up from the local movie theaters around the corner from my house. It was just a few steps down from what would be considered a “movie paIace.” I didn’t even know what a loge was, but the chairs sounded neat, so Dave and I sat upstairs. While Dave was impressed by “Ben Hur,” I was taken by the huge ornate dome or rotunda overhead. And the wide screen, the 65 mm projection (it was filmed in “Camera 65”), and, yes, those comfy seats.

The Capri didn’t last that long. Few of its ilk did. But we were there just a couple of weeks ago, enjoying its new identity as the “Forum Theater.” It’s owned and operated by the county now, and is home to touring Broadway shows and the Binghamton Philharmonic. Joan and I go there a lot. We can’t afford the Broadway productions, but we have season tickets to the symphony. And a recent visit was special.

First, I have to note that this orchestra is a magnificent gift to the community. Musicians come from our local area, of course, but also travel from some distance to play here. (Many professional classical musicians play in more than one orchestra, about the only way to make a living at their craft.) The conductor is Daniel Hege, also the conductor of the Wichita Symphony Orchestra and the principal guest conductor of the Tulsa Symphony Orchestra. We love the guy! Not only does he bring a fresh and varied program of symphonic offerings, he has a personality that lights up the stage, and the sizable auditorium. (I just found out that he is of the Nez Perce Tribe, and his grandfather, Boyd Eagle Piatote, was a jazz musician and composer.)

Hege’s verbal introductions of the classical and pops offerings are enlightening and entertaining, always adding to the enjoyment of the music, never detracting. I mention this because of a recent Saturday afternoon experience in the Forum. His words and personality helped our two young guests find their way into this music for the very first time. It was “Pops” concert, the kind of thing many symphonic organizations have to do these days to fill seats.

The audience gathers for a performance at the Forum

There; I said it. The more traditonal “classical” music symphonies, concertos, and oratorios are finding smaller audiences. Look at the culture we live and move in. Bring in a rock or hip hop star and the 1300 or so seats would be packed. But Shostakovich? Mendelssohn? Even Beethoven? Counter-cultural! Not to mention more recent composers whose works may challenge the most proficient violinist or pianist or oboist. But offer some soundtrack music by John Williams or some Broadway tunes…well, more tickets are sold and revenues increase. I’m not criticizing, just stating the realities of the business of art.

[Joan and I kid a bit about her going with me and sometimes barely tolerating my jazz concerts and I go with her to organ recitals (too few) and classical works. But she does enjoy some jazz, and I’ve always liked symphonies and smaller ensembles. (After all, I announced classical music concerts on a Richmond radio station while in seminary, and we loved the live music performed by the Juilliard-related Craftsbury Chamber Players in Vermont.) So, really, neither of us drags the other to live music. We go willingly. Eagerly! That said, things may change when Joan experiences the Red Hot Chili Pipers this month. Yes, Pipers.]

Back to the Forum. The recent pops concert was brilliant programming. Here’s the menu…no need to take notes, but it makes my point about how varied the concert was.

Wagner: Overture to Act 3 of Lohengrin
Hailstork: Fanfare on “Amazing Grace” 
Rosas: Over the Waves 
Fauré: Pavane 
Rimsky-Korsakov: Flight of the Bumblebee 
Tan Dun: Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon
featuring Philharmonic Principal Cellist Hakan Tayga 
Wagner: Ride of the Valkyries 
Anderson: Bugler’s Holiday
     featuring the Philharmonic Trumpet Section 
Sherman: music from Mary Poppins 
Schwartz: music from Wicked 
Led Zeppelin: Kashmir 
Arnold: Colonel Bogey March 
Williams: March from “Raiders of the Lost Ark”

See? Led Zeppelin! And Wagner. But even more special was the fact that the Binghamton Philharmonic encourages younger audience members by giving them free seats. Any adult ticket gets a freebie for those under 17. So, we took two youth from our church. One guy is 15, and his brother is a 5th grader. They’d never been to the Forum before and had never heard a symphony orchestra. The first exclamation came when they saw the number of musicians on stage. (The “Crouching Tiger” piece and the Zeppelin tune demanded extra percussion up front, so the stage was extended out for the larger orchestra.) But when the very first line of Wagner boomed from the stage, the younger boy turned to me and said, “Wow!” That made our month.

On Sunday, their Mom told Joan how the guys continued to express what a great concert it was, and how glad they were to go. Looks like a couple of their sisters will be our next guests.

So, the Forum is our largest music room, full of creativity that has endured through centuries (!) and some that is still experimental and very contemporary.

I’m grateful for the raw talent, persistent practice, long rehearsals, and fine performances of live music, of any kind. As a non-musician, I am in awe. And I too say, “Wow!”

 

Listening to Classic Vinyl Jazz?

My friend Bill Carter suggested that I provide a way to sample my newest radio program “Classic Vinyl Jazz.” I’ve really enjoyed producing these shows, with the debut on January 5 on WBDY-LP, Binghamton, NY’s Community Radio Station (99.5 FM). So far, the weekly program has aired twice (four times if you count the rerun of each show the next day). However, I have six more already sent to the station for the next few weeks.

I’m mixing much of my own collection of LPs gathered through some 50+ years, along with records given to me by folks who’ve digitized their own libraries. The records may have some age on them, but almost all are pristine, that is, clean discs. Broadcast quality, in other words. Those albums span the range of jazz, from Dixieland to swing, from modern jazz to bebop, from hard bop to new age. (Regarding “dixieland:” when I used that term at our college radio station, my classmate Kirkwood Cunningham insisted the genre be referred to as “traditional” jazz. OK by me, then and now.)

Many of the albums I played on the air for a couple of decades back in Richmond, VA are stamped or labeled with the call letters of now-defunct radio stations. They were given to me personally so I could produce those local radio shows, while other LPs were given me by record company reps so the music would get some airplay on one of the very few outlets for jazz in our market. When the stations abandoned jazz, they had no use for the albums and I inherited the catalogs. Cool.

I may have listed the caveats previously in my blog, but with the links below affording you the (temporary) ability to hear the show, I’ll repeat: 1) “classic” means some of the tunes are indeed jazz classics, but sometimes it might be the artist who is a “classic,” or a particular classic tune might be played by a jazz musician not necessarily associated with that tune; or, heck, maybe it’s a fresh composition played by a new artist and maybe someday it will be a classic. Who am I to say? But the word classic saves me from admitting these are old plastic records from my attic.

2) “Vinyl” indicates that all (I repeat, all) the music is off vinyl. No CDs, no tape. I suppose that’s one thing that makes the program different. The caveat? I’m transmitting to WBDY what the stylus picks up from the grooves via the internet. I know. Cheating. But the station doesn’t have turntables in use, and I like the convenience of recording at home, especially on snowy NYS days like today. Nonetheless, you’ll hear the lovely ambiance of clicks and pops and maybe surface noise that reminds you that this is vinyl!

And 3) Jazz. See above. All sorts. If you don’t care for the cut I’m playing, wait five or six minutes and you’ll hear what you were hoping to hear. I hope.

Finally, a word about the station. WBDY is “sponsored” by the Bundy Museum of History and Art in Binghamton, NY. It’s a low power station, with a signal that gets about 10 miles from the tower on a hill overlooking the Susquehanna. (Mr. Bundy started the Bundy Time Recorder Co. which evolved into something called IBM in my hometown, Endicott, NY. IBM abandoned the area recently, but the Bundy legacy remains.) WBDY airs CVJ Friday nights at 9, with a rerun Saturday mornings at 10.

So, there’s one link:

There’s one way to listen to Classic Vinyl Jazz program #2. Click on that QR code and there’s your ticket to listen. Or, here’s a link: https://www.patreon.com/posts/classic-vinyl-ep-96572075?utm_medium=post_notification_email&utm_campaign=patron_engagement&utm_source=post_link&token=eyJhbGciOiJIUzI1NiIsInR5cCI6IkpXVCJ9.eyJyZWRpc19rZXkiOiJpYTI6NTM3ZmI5YmItY2VmNS00NmI1LTk0NzQtZWQyMjYwMTVhNTJhIiwicG9zdF9pZCI6OTY1NzIwNzUsInBhdHJvbl9pZCI6MTEyMDE1NTMwfQ.w6RpzinziKo1OTjPAIt3g-YqJE_SkD0wEYRlWbsmmIk .

Thanks for reading, and for listening!

 

The Spirit of Jazz Redux

This is the last entry about my journey in jazz radio…for now. And, like the previous entries over the past few days, this topic is a kind of rerun, though the actual words are fresh as today’s sunrise. (That the sun is rarely seen in Upstate New York at this time of year is not relevant to this series.)

When the “Jazz Brunch” ended on WMXB (B-103) in Richmond, I had already begun a “lightly” syndicated half-hour jazz program called “The Spirit of Jazz.” I say “lightly” syndicated since I believe the show was broadcast on only a handful of stations nationwide. I believe the stations were in good-sized markets, but since I had nothing to do with the duplication and mailing of the tapes, I have no idea where the show aired. Maybe Pittsburgh? Maybe Philadelphia? A city in Texas? All I knew for sure was I placed it in Richmond.

I had attended a national conference of religious broadcasters, and a Philadelphia-area media producer Ed Klitsch approached me about doing a half-hour radio program called “Jazz Vespers.” His church (Old Pine Street Presbyterian) had been offering a Sunday evening jazz service for years and he wanted to reproduce something similar on radio. The intention wasn’t to record the Pine Street services (lots of issues there: financial, music licensing, performers’ permissions, etc.), but to create a made-for-radio version that he would help place in various media markets.

I did a pilot, Ed liked it, and somehow the Presbyterian Media Mission based in Pittsburgh got involved with the syndication of the program. PMM had a splendid record of producing and syndicating creative programming, so that was a natural step. A major problem arose however. Radio stations that had public service time available without charge would most likely offer only Sunday morning time for a “religious” program. And Jazz Vespers was designed to be an evening, even nighttime, offering. So, we needed a new name.

I thought “The Spirit of Jazz” was perfect. It combined the jazz tunes we would be playing and the faith-inspired meditations I’d be writing and voicing between the jazz cuts. It was fun picking out a theme and finding jazz pieces with titles that played into that theme. I did programs on the sea, mornings, roads, stories, and about 40 others ideas. Either the program didn’t catch on, or PMM didn’t have the funding to continue, so the series was short-lived. I did revive it briefly a couple of decades after it was originally recorded, using it as a test of a slot offered to our presbytery by an internet radio station within presbytery bounds. I added six new shows recorded at home and thought they were really the best of the lot. I’ll add a link here to one of those later programs.

Link to The Spirit of Jazz program, with the theme: Ideas

[When Presbybop’s Bill Carter added a podcast to his promotion of jazz and its spiritual voices, he asked me to co-host, and we took the “Spirit of Jazz” title for that continuing effort. You can find it wherever podcasts are lodged. New episodes go up about every two weeks.]

 

Let’s Do Brunch

My newest jazz radio show is now on the air, so I’m looking back at my previous jazz broadcasts with some nostalgia. In my previous post, I wrote of my public radio jazz show that ran for decades, with and without me. Today, the next step.

One Saturday night at the old WRFK-FM studios, I did my last “Headset Jazz” show with co-host Alice Riegel beside me. I’d been doing the show for at least 12 years and thought it best to “retire” and devote my time to other endeavors, including the new local cable TV systems that offered time to non-profits.

The very next week the program director of the station that aired my syndicated rock program (“Celebration Rock”) invited me to lunch. That was odd. Curious about his agenda, I met him at a restaurant near the station and he told me he wanted to add a jazz brunch to his Sunday morning line-up. “I don’t even care if anyone listens,” he claimed. “I just think it would be cool for us to have a jazz brunch on our air!” He had heard that I had left the public radio station and he wanted me to host the new show. I must have smiled at that invitation, but thought it was too soon to get back into jazz programming. I hadn’t even had a weekend off yet. Plus, I thought I’d be seen as “selling out” to a commercial station, moving from mainstream jazz (whatever that is) to “contemporary jazz” (whatever that is).

I explained that I was in church on Sunday mornings, serving as Associate Pastor for a Presbyterian congregation, and couldn’t possibly do a Sunday morning radio show from 10 to noon. “No problem; you can tape it ahead and make it sound live. If anyone calls the station while the show airs, we’ll just tell them you can’t come to the phone, so leave a message.”

When I continued to hesitate, the PD dropped the surprise. “Of course, we’ll pay you. How much do you want?” That was a surprise. I’d never been paid to do radio before (except for some occasion voice work for commericals, famously the “shirt, tie, and sox box” combo for S&K Clothing stores, and some political spots).

“I don’t know how much I’d expect for a two hour show. I don’t even know the ballpark.”

“Well, you build the ballpark,” he responded. “How much do you want? $50, $100, $200?” Then he very quickly added, “$200 is too much.”

We agreed on a figure, one I playfully based on the station’s frequency/identity: EZ104. The deal was sealed, with the PD calling me later to say the final figure would be a bit lower, but I’d receive a percentage of sales of commercial spots sold during my two hour “brunch.” OK by me.

The station did a great job promoting the show, and I thoroughly enjoyed producing and hosting it each week. When the station changed hands, changed call letters, and slightly tweaked its format, I happily stayed on. For a brief time, the show was shifted to Sunday nights from 10 to midnight, a shift I actually liked, thinking of jazz as a nighttime thing anyway. Obviously, the focus was no longer “brunch,” so I rebranded the show “Starlight Jazz.” After a few months, the station moved back to the brunch idea, and the show returned to Sunday mornings.

They got my name right, but missed on Bob James

Lots of perks came with that commerical radio run. I had even more invitations to host jazz fests and concerts. Sometimes nerve wracking for this introvert who is more comfortable sitting alone in a small studio, but nonetheless, it was exciting to be on stage with the likes of Dizzy Gillespie and Stan Getz.

The Jazz Brunch era came to an end when I was fired. The station felt the ratings weren’t all that bad, but were “flat” and the newer PD decided to try something new on Sunday mornings. I got a quick call one week to meet with the management on a Friday. (The radio pros know what that means: bye-bye.) When I arrived at the station, the deejay in the studio emerged from his cart players and said hi, but with a look of sympathy on his face. I have to say: the two guys in the office seemed a little nervous as I entered, making some small talk at first, then almost apologetically springing the news. Frankly, it was no big deal to me, but I think they were used to fired talent gnashing teeth and beating breasts. The Sunday morning gig was a pleasant diversion/hobby for me, and the extra money was OK but nothing I depended on. So I was OK. “When’s my last show?” I asked.

“Um, last week,” they said.

“You know, I’d like to do a last show to thank people for listening…” The guys looked at one another and then gave me the OK, remarking that they would trust me to do the right thing, in other words, not “dis” the station, express anger at management, or play one record over and over for two hours. I assured them it would be a classy goodbye. And it was.

The program for The Richmond Jazz Festival

[The station continued to air my “Celebration Rock” show Sunday mornings, and if I recall, they also allowed me to place my newest jazz show there in their public service block. That show is my next subject. in this Peace, Grace, and Jazz blog.]

 

And All That Jazz…

I’m describing my jazz radio days as a new broadcast venture begins for me. Last time, I wrote about my very first jazz experience on the radio: a big band show on a campus station no one listened to. Today I mention what may or may not have come next. I equivocate because I’m uncertain of the chronology here.

Early on in my media ministry days in Richmond, Virginia, I looked for radio stations that would air some kind of religious or public affairs programming I might provide on behalf of the Presbyterian churches in the area. I was a producer looking for a market, in other words. The larger (more successful) stations in the city did grant me some public service time, but one station, a 10,000 watt daytimer, was especially open to anything I wanted to do for them. I started with a music show called “Studio 2.” (The music format was basically any free promo record that arrived in the mail.) When the program director asked if I’d like to do their Sunday public affairs interview program also, I gladly accepted.

I interviewed a number of community and church leaders about issues facing the Central Virginia area, titling the half-hour program “Probe.” Soon, the station, struggling to find an identity, chose jazz as its fulltime music format. And it occurred to me that I could combine my interest in that music with my half-hour interview, interspersing conversation segments with jazz cuts, and filling an hour timeslot. (The station then could legitimately add another 30 minutes to their public service schedule, something that always looked good when the FCC license renewal came up.)

At the WRGM production room mic

I called the program “Public Affairs and All that Jazz.” (Or, P-triple A-TJ, as I referred to it occasionally.) Now this was a very long time ago, and I don’t recall how long the program was on the schedule, but eventually the station, once again struggling for ratings, switched its format to “solid gold rock and roll.” Obviously, I had to leave that jazz show behind.

Here’s where the chronology of my radio jazz days is blurry. Almost concurrently, the public radio station in Richmond invited me to host a Saturday night jazz program. That story is next in this short series. I’ll bet you can’t wait.

 

“Mo’ Jazz”

Years ago in Richmond, I was traveling Laburnum Avenue and trailed a car with a vanity plate that read “MO’ JAZZ.” I wished I’d thought of that. There was a driver who shared my desire for more jazz.

Now, it turns out that my own life leads to “more jazz.” Thanks to an invitation from a community radio station in Binghamton, NY, I’m starting my newest venture in radio. And I thought, leading up to my annual Lenten series of WordPress postings, I’d get back into the habit of writing here. This time, about my jazz radio avocations. (The fact is that I’ve already written most of this in previous blogs, but I admit to plagarizing only my topics, not my prior words.)

Let’s start at the beginning. Mom’s and Dad’s records from their WW2 years were the pop songs of the day: big bands. The first music I heard in our house came from the shellac 78s that clapped down on the turntable of the “record player.” Harry James, Ralph Flanagan, Glenn Miller. Mom had played saxophone in high school, and Dad was a drummer. In second grade, I took drum lessons, but it was quickly apparent I had no sense of rhythm. I tried trombone in what we then called “junior high school.” But is was quickly apparent I had little desire to practice the instrument, and I understand that would have been the only way to get to Carnegie Hall. But the sound of drums and horns stuck, and while my classmates were embracing the early years of rock ‘n’ roll, I was stuck in the big band era.

[Sidebar: I was at a party at my cousin Linda Sterling’s house and my friends were talking about favorite songs and singers. Elvis, the Everly Brothers, Danny and the Juniors…and then Jeff said, “In the Mood” by Glenn Miller. Ooops. A real oldie…from way back, maybe 20 years ago! Linda Holmes drew a square in the air and brought chuckles from the rest of the kids in the living room. “But….” I tried to protest, though my defense was to go unappreciated.]

  WCRW’s Jeff Kellam…cool guy, huh?

Fast forward to college. Now, finally, we get to radio. I was given a slot on the campus station. While other novice deejays were playing the hits of the early 1960s, I pulled together my very modest supply of big band records and hosted a show called “Bandstand,” never mind that Dick Clark had a national rock show with that title. On my virtual bandstand were Ted Heath, Ralph Marterie, Glenn Miller, and the Bay Big Band (led by Francis Bay, a Belgian musician whose many bargain basement LPs were within my high school budget). Did my show have a following? Actually none of our station’s programs had an audience. WCRW was a closed circuit, carrier current station with small transmitters located only in three nearby women’s dorms, and I doubt any of the residents knew of WCRW’s existence. (WCRW= Westminster College Radio Workshop.)

But I enjoyed my show. My first jazz radio experience. Good practice for what was to come over the next 30 years. Tune in tomorrow.

 

Remembering Dennis Benson

Today (June 8) I learned that it was the birthday of my late friend and media mentor Dennis Benson. I thought it might be good to post (or re-post?) a radio program I did back in the best days of “Celebration Rock.” I have written of Dennis on both my original Celebration Rock blog and on this later one as well. So, I needn’t add many words here, except to say that he remains in my memory one of the most ambitious, talented, creative, and dedicated leaders in mass media ministry.

This particular “Celebration Rock” program is one of my favorites among the scores I still have in my tape-to-CD-to-MP3 library of hour long radio programs I produced for the Presbyterian Church. Actually, I have two specials that featured Dennis Benson. One was based on his travels with Alice Cooper! Dennis had somehow gotten invited to join the Cooper band on tour for about a week’s time. I asked if he’d share some reflections on that tour and he sent me a cassette tape (our magic means of audio communication back then) with his commentary. I added some Alice Cooper LP cuts to his words and wound up with a program one of my grandsons has treasured for years!

The program I’m embedding here is based on Dennis’ book Making Tracks: Meditations along the Jogging Trail. (Dennis, creative guy that he was, picked up on almost every popular trend, baptized that trend, and added his Christian perspective to it: from Star Wars to WWF (wrestling) to, in this case, jogging.) For this show, Dennis took his trusty cassette recorder (again, the cassette!) as he ran through his Pittsburgh area neighborhood. A victim and survivor of childhood polio, he admitted to an unusual gait, and running through some wintery slush took its toll on his lungs, but amid the heavy breathing, his running commentary (see what I did there?) provided inspiration for me to sort through my library of hit music to find gems to carry us all through the hour. “Running on Empty,” “It Keeps You Runnin’,” “Feelin’ Stronger Every Day,” and “Run that Body Down” were among the cuts I used for the hour. Of course, I also added my own commentary too.

Now, Dennis and I were miles apart throughout our parallel ministries in radio. We didn’t talk often, but shared mutual affection. I had heard that Dennis was disappointed that I had eventually left church media to go into parish ministry halfway through my career. But I would hope he’s smiling that this deep into my retirement I am once again involved in using electronic media for ministry: a monthly TV interview, yes, and using video to tell stories. But, like Dennis would have, I am engaged in the latest thing…podcasting. (Google “The Spirit of Jazz” podcast with Presbybop Jazz’s Bill Carter.)

Here’s to you, Dennis, with profound gratitude for all you did and all you are, still, and always. Dear reader, click on the link below and listen to Dennis make tracks!