Musical Roots

The album that started it all.

As far back as I can remember, music has always played a big part in my life.
My dad had played the violin and had a great voice. He loved classical music and Hebrew liturgy. My sister, Judi, sang in the high school chorus, loved opera and worked for a while as a record promoter and as a producer for a jazz radio show.  My brother, Bob, played the clarinet in the high school band. My mom had a sweet, clear voice and was my biggest fan.

When I was eight,  my parents decided that I would take accordion lessons, which were popular in those days. Mom took me over to the Carnivali School of Music on West 63rd Street , I was strapped into a small accordion and my first lesson began. My teacher showed me how to work the bellows to get a sound, and had me count to 4 while I pressed a key.
"This kid's got rhythm," he said. And for the next 4 years I learned to play the accordion.

To say the least, I didn't love it My father insisted I practise every day. I thought that all the music I played sounded like a polka. I never really got good at it, but did enjoy learning how to read music. When I entered 8th grade and started preparing for my bar
mitzvah, I was allowed to stop. My beautiful ivory accordion was handed down to my nephew Paul and was never seen by me again. No great loss.

Once I got into high school, I was already singing in our synagogue choir, and  so decided to get into the band. I started  by playing clarinet in the cadet band, and soon realized that everybody and their sister played that instrument. Mr. Olsen , our band director was looking for someone to play bassoon, but I liked the idea of the easier switch to a bass clarinet. In a few months, I had learned enough  to join the concert band.
The next fall, I also learned to play tenor sax and had the time of my life marching at football games and parades. For the rest of high school, the band became my life.
With my parents encouragement, I practised hard and made first chair bass clarinet.
Mom  and Dad were proud of me. They didn't even protest when I played  noisy marches  at hom eDad was a keen critic of our concert band and let me know when it sounded good.  I earned a letter in band and  medals for playing in contests. I made some very good friends in the band, a few of whom I still correspond with today. On the very last day of school, a cute redheaded french horn player kissed me after graduation and said that she liked me. Too late!!

When I was a junior I began a love affair with the guitar that is still  very much alive today. My school friend, Don, had an inexpensive guitar that he wanted to sell. I saved up my allowance and paid him the magnificent sum of $16 for it. I bought a lesson book, and began learning how to play chords and accompany myself to the easy folk songs I heard on the radio on on record albums.
Don then told me that some of our friends were thinking of forming a folk group. That was all I needed to hear. The Kingston Trio, Bob Gibson  and The Limeliters were my idols. I started playing and singing with "Sonny and the Ramblers" and I was hooked. Sonny taught me the chords I needed to know for the songs we sang. I played guitar,he played banjo we both sang lead while Don and Bruce  harmonized. We actually got to be pretty good, playing for money at parties, and a bar mitvah or two. An added benefit was that our playing let us meet a lot of girls.

My senior year of high school, tMy first guitar had been crushed on a school trip to Washington, by a friend who was jumping on a hotel bed and landed on it. My dad wasn't  happy with me, but took me to a studio downtown where we picked up a much better instrument, with the promise that I take good care of it.

  That spring, I performed at a "hootenanny" with two high school friends. The audience packed the hall, and loved all of the acts. From that moment on, all I wanted to do was play guitar and sing. Every spare minute , I practised and got better. At the end of the year, I tried out for the high school variety show. I was chosen as MC, played both a solo and in with my two friend, Donna and Ray.

In senior speech class, I brought my guitar in for an assignment. The teacher was called away from the room for a few minutes and warned me not to play my  while she was gone. My buddy, Ray Pace, also a guitarist, grabbed the guitar from my desk and started playing loud and fast. Of course, our teacher came back in a blamed me for the noise. Never one to let a friend down, I took the blame for Ray and got my first and only detention. Ray still owes me for that one.

When I went away to college, my guitar came with me. My second year, a friend heard me playing, and asked if I would give him lessons. I did this for the rest of the year and saved the money for a new guitar. When I got my first job as a middle school teacher, I used my music in the classroom and for a few years, gave private lessons after school in the nearby neighborhood.

Since then I've had a number of guitars and have continued to play through the years. On one of the first dates with my wife, I cooked dinner for her and played.
I don't really know whether it was the chicken or my music, but it worked!One of my old guitars had gone to  my nephew, Paul. When I visited him in St. Louis, I gave him a few lessons. His playing took off in the next few years and he  now plays in blues bars and clubs.

When my daughter, Julie, was a toddler, I would sit on her bed and play folk songs until she fell asleep. Her younger brother, David, played trombone in middle school, and picked up the guitar a few years later. Now David and I will jam together when he is at our house.

In the last few years, I've been taking private lessons. I have a beautiful acoustic and an amazing Fender Stratocaster. I've gone from just playing by ear to reading  music and tabs. My chord playing has steadily improved and I'm now sight reading.
How far I'll get totally depends on me. As my teacher, Steve, says, "Rock on!"