My rise to fame and fortune – LOL – in the Music Business
Young musicians keep asking me how I did it – in other words – how can they do it? The short answer is, "I don’t know." I’m not sure anyone does. In 20/20 hindsight, it feels like, to paraphrase Lemony Snicket, a series of fortunate events. I didn’t plan any of this. As you will see, I was no prodigy. I stumbled from one opportunity to another, with lotta luck, a lotta work, and a lotta help from my friends.
Pursuing a music career is not entirely sane. If you can imagine doing anything else for a living – DO THAT! The odds are simply not good and there are many ways to have fulfilling musical life without doing it for a living. The commercial music business is simultaneously contracting and globalizing; the symphony orchestra business is intensely competitive; and . . . the state of the art is skyrocketing! Also, regarding auditions, in the immortal words of Juan Sánchez-Villalobos Ramírez . . .
If you cannot imagine doing anything else, get deadly serious – yesterday! There is absolutely ZERO guarantee of success, but somebody will be doing this – there's no reason it can't be you. If I could do it, anybody can. If you end up doing it for a living, here is some career advice (salty language alert).
If anyone is interested, I can relate what, to the best of my recollection, transpired. Perhaps this will be interesting or helpful to some. Here goes . . .
Pursuing a music career is not entirely sane. If you can imagine doing anything else for a living – DO THAT! The odds are simply not good and there are many ways to have fulfilling musical life without doing it for a living. The commercial music business is simultaneously contracting and globalizing; the symphony orchestra business is intensely competitive; and . . . the state of the art is skyrocketing! Also, regarding auditions, in the immortal words of Juan Sánchez-Villalobos Ramírez . . .
If you cannot imagine doing anything else, get deadly serious – yesterday! There is absolutely ZERO guarantee of success, but somebody will be doing this – there's no reason it can't be you. If I could do it, anybody can. If you end up doing it for a living, here is some career advice (salty language alert).
If anyone is interested, I can relate what, to the best of my recollection, transpired. Perhaps this will be interesting or helpful to some. Here goes . . .
The Early Years
When I was in fifth grade, my mom took me to see The Music Man; I was inspired! I tried to get into Killybrooke Elementary’s beginning band program. The music teacher asked me to sing a pitch played on the piano; I failed. No band for me! I was crestfallen! I have since learned it is not uncommon for this kind of pitch discrimination to develop later (see Solfeggio). My mom met with the teacher – no dice. So I came back – one year! There was a new band teacher – no test – I was in.
Now the question was what instrument to play. We were standing in line to choose our instruments and my friend said, “I have long arms, I’m gonna play trombone. You have long arms, why don’t you play trombone?” The fact is, I don’t have long arms, but the rest is history.
To digress briefly, I have medium-length arms, but a very long torso. Generally, torso length correlates to vital capacity. When I was forty (and running five miles a day), at my annual physical, I blew the piston out of a (now obsolete) cylinder respirometer. I don’t know the capacity of this particular unit (they can range from 6 to 9 liters), but the doctor was very surprised. A double-valve bass trombone does not require long arms (I haven’t been anywhere near 7th position since junior high), but a lotta air comes in real handy!
Another side story is my first adventure in ear training. My sixth-grade (non-music) teacher, Mr. Heinrichs, insisted that every student, to graduate, stand in front of the class, in the “multi-purpose” room, and sing a song – a cappella. Given my experience with pitch discrimination the prior year, I was worried – make that terrified! We had a phonograph record at home of somebody singing I Ride an Old Paint I liked (I suspect this one given my parents record collection), so that’s what I picked. I listened, copied – trial and error – rinse and repeat – all year long, until I could successfully perform it. Progress. (Even today, when I sing along with students, all is well. But if the student stops playing, the 11-year-old kid inside me panics, and all bets are off.) My motto today is: "Just because I can't sing doesn't mean I won't." (Be afraid – very afraid!)
Now the question was what instrument to play. We were standing in line to choose our instruments and my friend said, “I have long arms, I’m gonna play trombone. You have long arms, why don’t you play trombone?” The fact is, I don’t have long arms, but the rest is history.
To digress briefly, I have medium-length arms, but a very long torso. Generally, torso length correlates to vital capacity. When I was forty (and running five miles a day), at my annual physical, I blew the piston out of a (now obsolete) cylinder respirometer. I don’t know the capacity of this particular unit (they can range from 6 to 9 liters), but the doctor was very surprised. A double-valve bass trombone does not require long arms (I haven’t been anywhere near 7th position since junior high), but a lotta air comes in real handy!
Another side story is my first adventure in ear training. My sixth-grade (non-music) teacher, Mr. Heinrichs, insisted that every student, to graduate, stand in front of the class, in the “multi-purpose” room, and sing a song – a cappella. Given my experience with pitch discrimination the prior year, I was worried – make that terrified! We had a phonograph record at home of somebody singing I Ride an Old Paint I liked (I suspect this one given my parents record collection), so that’s what I picked. I listened, copied – trial and error – rinse and repeat – all year long, until I could successfully perform it. Progress. (Even today, when I sing along with students, all is well. But if the student stops playing, the 11-year-old kid inside me panics, and all bets are off.) My motto today is: "Just because I can't sing doesn't mean I won't." (Be afraid – very afraid!)
On to Junior High
The high-water mark of my career at Maude B. Davis Junior High School was performing The Great Gate of Kiev at our 8th grade band spring concert. I cannot imagine the cacophony that ensued, but I was stricken. My mom subsequently took me to hear Pictures at an Exhibition at Melodyland Theatre, down the street from Disneyland. Memory tells me this was the Chicago Symphony Orchestra, but I’m not completely confident that was the case. But mom did buy me the CSO RCA Red Seal recording of Pictures. I wore it out.
That was not the only LP (Google it) in our home. My folks were not musicians, but there was a lot of music in our home. This is likely because there was no television. My parents were both writers, more specifically, newspaper reporters. (My pop, despite his MA in journalism from Columbia, eschewed the term, “journalist” – and pretension in general.) In any event, dad predicted television “news” would be the death of newspapers (he was not wrong) and refused to buy a TV – much to my chagrin.
The result was a house full of books, magazines, conversation, LPs – and a LOT of time to practice! I read a plethora of books – and poems – phrasing music is very much like phrasing poetry. My dad could and would recite hours and hours of poetry. I heard a wonderful variety of music growing up: Tommy Dorsey, Glen Miller, Fats Waller, Art Tatum, J & K, Frank Sinatra, Nat King Cole, The Beatles, Blood, Sweat & Tears, Chicago, Simon & Garfunkle, symphony orchestras, and loads of Broadway musicals. We had that miracle of 1950’s technology, a whole-house intercom. When I would go to bed, they would tune the intercom to my room and play a record while I fell asleep. Osmosis!
That was not the only LP (Google it) in our home. My folks were not musicians, but there was a lot of music in our home. This is likely because there was no television. My parents were both writers, more specifically, newspaper reporters. (My pop, despite his MA in journalism from Columbia, eschewed the term, “journalist” – and pretension in general.) In any event, dad predicted television “news” would be the death of newspapers (he was not wrong) and refused to buy a TV – much to my chagrin.
The result was a house full of books, magazines, conversation, LPs – and a LOT of time to practice! I read a plethora of books – and poems – phrasing music is very much like phrasing poetry. My dad could and would recite hours and hours of poetry. I heard a wonderful variety of music growing up: Tommy Dorsey, Glen Miller, Fats Waller, Art Tatum, J & K, Frank Sinatra, Nat King Cole, The Beatles, Blood, Sweat & Tears, Chicago, Simon & Garfunkle, symphony orchestras, and loads of Broadway musicals. We had that miracle of 1950’s technology, a whole-house intercom. When I would go to bed, they would tune the intercom to my room and play a record while I fell asleep. Osmosis!
High School
In 1964, I found myself at Costa Mesa High School and last chair in beginning band. The first three years at CMHS, my band director was Duane Keith, a brilliant musician! We had one feeder school, and consequently, not a lot of incoming band kids – it was a modest program in numbers. Marching band was optional, which suited me fine – we wasted no time memorizing field shows. (We did march in the Costa Mesa Fish Fry Parade!)
One of the things Duane emphasized was sight-reading. Every rehearsal ended with unison rhythmic verbalization from the back of Exercises for Ensemble Drill, by Raymond C. Fussell – one-an-two-an-da, etc. One third of our semester grade was the Watkins-Farnum Performance Scale, a sight-reading test. The first chair players would administer the test to their sections and Duane would test section leaders. At festival, our modest little band would generally get “excellent” scores overall, but invariably “superior” in sight-reading. This skill has served me well.
Second semester, Duane suggested private lessons and recommended Donald Kimble. This was life-changing. Don was a junior high band director who had studied with Robert Marsteller at the University of Southern California. He would stop by our house Tuesday nights, on his way to Orange Coast College Community Orchestra rehearsals, and give me a lesson.
One night my old man asked Don if he would like a martini; he accepted; and this evolved into martini, dinner, and lesson once a week. In three-and-a-half years, I metamorphosized from last chair in beginning band to All Southern California Honor Band. I did the work, but Don was a fabulous teacher.
My senior year, a new band director came to CMHS, Earl Treichel. Earl suggested I audition for the Newport Mesa All District Honor Band. I was surprised, but he convinced me, and I did. The band director from our cross-town rival auditioned the trombones – I was seated ninth – of nine. In fairness, my F-attachment may have been a factor; bass trombone was not a thing in Newport Mesa in 1968.
The guest conductor was William Revelli, of the University of Michigan. He was not the warmest, fuzziest, soul on the podium. "I've been called the Vince Lombardi of Ann Arbor because I just won't compromise. I'm intolerable when it comes to perfection. Sometimes I'm even downright mean about it."
One of the pieces we were performing was the Václav Nelhýbel Chorale, based on a medieval Bohemian chant. It has a long, unison, modal, legato, iteration of the chant by all the trombones. Revelli was displeased with our efforts. He cut the band off and said, “First trombone, play your part.” He then said, “Everyone who liked that, raise your hands.” Everybody did. “You idiots, next!” – and so on. By the time he got to me, one kid from my school half-way raised their hand. Revelli said, “You idiots, you don’t even know when it’s right!” At the end of rehearsal, he took me aside and asked, “Are you a music major.” I said, “What’s that?” He replied, “You should think about it.” I did.
So . . . I asked Earl if I should audition for All Southern California Honor Band. He said, “Hell yes!” I did, succeeded, and at the end of the week, was offered a full-ride scholarship to Cal State Long Beach. This was during the Vietnam War – a college draft deferment sounded like a pretty good idea to me and FREE COLLEGE sounded like a GREAT deal to my old man. Looking back, someone might have suggested, “Why don’t you play for Mr. Marsteller at USC?” Or, "Look into some other schools," but that did not happen.
In All Southern, I sat next to a fine trombonist named Mitch Fennell; we became life-long friends. Dr. Mitchell Fennell became Director of Bands at California State University, Fullerton, where I’ve taught trombone since 1987. (To lay any concerns about "All Southern nepotism" to rest, the commencement of my tenure preceded his.) Interestingly, both Mitch and I were tenor trombonists at the time. But both of us had F attachments, so . . . “3rd trombone” it was. There was one guy (whom we've since lost track of) with us with a bass trombone, but not us. We both subsequently fell in love with the bass trombone. Mitch, a year younger than me (same birthday though), returned to All Southern the following year – with a brand-new bass trombone and a 1½G bass trombone mouthpiece. The Nelhýbel Chorale was on the program and Mitch was the only one who could play the requisite G above the staff, so he was first trombone. Life’s funny sometimes.
One of the outgrowths of studying with Don Kimble was being invited to join him in the Orange Coast College Community Orchestra half-way through my sophmore year in high school, playing Brahms, Beethoven, Shostakovich, et al. Then the OCC brass ensemble, the jazz band, in the pit for shows . . . In the OCC orchestra, I met Dr. Peter (“Sig”) Odegard, of University of California, Irvine. Sig invited me to play the Stravinsky Octet at UCI during my senior year and years later hired me to teach trombone.
In the OCC Jazz Band, under Dr. Charles "Doc" Rutherford, I got to play with the likes of Tom Kubis, Tom Saviano, Mike Paulson . . . the list goes on. As Stan Getz is reputed to have said, “You can read all the textbooks and listen to all the records, but you have to play with musicians that are better than you.” This has been the story of my musical life – many learning opportunities – many early on. I was lucky enough never to get in over my head far enough to drown.
One other factor may have been that I was heavily involved in theatre in high school – performing is performing!
One of the highlights of my CMHS days occurred in Earl's evening rehearsal band. This consisted of some local band directors, professionals, and select students. For a couple weeks Cat Anderson sat in. Apparently, he didn't like practicing in his hotel room during down time on the road, and would find local bands to play in. It was amazing!! I turned around at the break and said, "You sound great! My name's Bob Sanders." and stuck out my hand. He grabbed it and replied, "I'm Cat Anderson. Nice to meet you."
One of the things Duane emphasized was sight-reading. Every rehearsal ended with unison rhythmic verbalization from the back of Exercises for Ensemble Drill, by Raymond C. Fussell – one-an-two-an-da, etc. One third of our semester grade was the Watkins-Farnum Performance Scale, a sight-reading test. The first chair players would administer the test to their sections and Duane would test section leaders. At festival, our modest little band would generally get “excellent” scores overall, but invariably “superior” in sight-reading. This skill has served me well.
Second semester, Duane suggested private lessons and recommended Donald Kimble. This was life-changing. Don was a junior high band director who had studied with Robert Marsteller at the University of Southern California. He would stop by our house Tuesday nights, on his way to Orange Coast College Community Orchestra rehearsals, and give me a lesson.
One night my old man asked Don if he would like a martini; he accepted; and this evolved into martini, dinner, and lesson once a week. In three-and-a-half years, I metamorphosized from last chair in beginning band to All Southern California Honor Band. I did the work, but Don was a fabulous teacher.
My senior year, a new band director came to CMHS, Earl Treichel. Earl suggested I audition for the Newport Mesa All District Honor Band. I was surprised, but he convinced me, and I did. The band director from our cross-town rival auditioned the trombones – I was seated ninth – of nine. In fairness, my F-attachment may have been a factor; bass trombone was not a thing in Newport Mesa in 1968.
The guest conductor was William Revelli, of the University of Michigan. He was not the warmest, fuzziest, soul on the podium. "I've been called the Vince Lombardi of Ann Arbor because I just won't compromise. I'm intolerable when it comes to perfection. Sometimes I'm even downright mean about it."
One of the pieces we were performing was the Václav Nelhýbel Chorale, based on a medieval Bohemian chant. It has a long, unison, modal, legato, iteration of the chant by all the trombones. Revelli was displeased with our efforts. He cut the band off and said, “First trombone, play your part.” He then said, “Everyone who liked that, raise your hands.” Everybody did. “You idiots, next!” – and so on. By the time he got to me, one kid from my school half-way raised their hand. Revelli said, “You idiots, you don’t even know when it’s right!” At the end of rehearsal, he took me aside and asked, “Are you a music major.” I said, “What’s that?” He replied, “You should think about it.” I did.
So . . . I asked Earl if I should audition for All Southern California Honor Band. He said, “Hell yes!” I did, succeeded, and at the end of the week, was offered a full-ride scholarship to Cal State Long Beach. This was during the Vietnam War – a college draft deferment sounded like a pretty good idea to me and FREE COLLEGE sounded like a GREAT deal to my old man. Looking back, someone might have suggested, “Why don’t you play for Mr. Marsteller at USC?” Or, "Look into some other schools," but that did not happen.
In All Southern, I sat next to a fine trombonist named Mitch Fennell; we became life-long friends. Dr. Mitchell Fennell became Director of Bands at California State University, Fullerton, where I’ve taught trombone since 1987. (To lay any concerns about "All Southern nepotism" to rest, the commencement of my tenure preceded his.) Interestingly, both Mitch and I were tenor trombonists at the time. But both of us had F attachments, so . . . “3rd trombone” it was. There was one guy (whom we've since lost track of) with us with a bass trombone, but not us. We both subsequently fell in love with the bass trombone. Mitch, a year younger than me (same birthday though), returned to All Southern the following year – with a brand-new bass trombone and a 1½G bass trombone mouthpiece. The Nelhýbel Chorale was on the program and Mitch was the only one who could play the requisite G above the staff, so he was first trombone. Life’s funny sometimes.
One of the outgrowths of studying with Don Kimble was being invited to join him in the Orange Coast College Community Orchestra half-way through my sophmore year in high school, playing Brahms, Beethoven, Shostakovich, et al. Then the OCC brass ensemble, the jazz band, in the pit for shows . . . In the OCC orchestra, I met Dr. Peter (“Sig”) Odegard, of University of California, Irvine. Sig invited me to play the Stravinsky Octet at UCI during my senior year and years later hired me to teach trombone.
In the OCC Jazz Band, under Dr. Charles "Doc" Rutherford, I got to play with the likes of Tom Kubis, Tom Saviano, Mike Paulson . . . the list goes on. As Stan Getz is reputed to have said, “You can read all the textbooks and listen to all the records, but you have to play with musicians that are better than you.” This has been the story of my musical life – many learning opportunities – many early on. I was lucky enough never to get in over my head far enough to drown.
One other factor may have been that I was heavily involved in theatre in high school – performing is performing!
One of the highlights of my CMHS days occurred in Earl's evening rehearsal band. This consisted of some local band directors, professionals, and select students. For a couple weeks Cat Anderson sat in. Apparently, he didn't like practicing in his hotel room during down time on the road, and would find local bands to play in. It was amazing!! I turned around at the break and said, "You sound great! My name's Bob Sanders." and stuck out my hand. He grabbed it and replied, "I'm Cat Anderson. Nice to meet you."
Cal State Long Beach
At CSLB (now CSULB), I marched with the Big Brown Music Machine, played in the orchestra and the “stage” (jazz) band, etc. I studied with Jeff Reynolds of the LA Phil and one of his teachers, Robert Simmergren – both huge influences on me!
One night at a jazz band rehearsal during my junior year, somebody said, “There’s this band in Orange County that needs a sub bass bone player tonight; call this number.” I did, and after three or so rehearsals, was invited to join the Orange County Rhythm Machine and Wind Ensemble – “Rhythm Machine” for short. I played in that band for 12 years. The Rhythm Machine included great players like Tom Ranier, Tom Kubis, Bill King, John Madrid, Johnny "Vatos" Hernandez, Rick Culver, and Alan Kaplan. While I won’t say the Rhythm Machine “evolved” into the Tom Kubis Big Band, they do share some "DNA." Tom wrote many charts for the Rhythm Machine that are in his book today. His bass trombone feature on Don't Get Around Much Any More was written at my request. I also later commissioned Rick to write his Suite for Unaccompanied Bass Trombone – for the princely sum of thirty bucks and a gallon of his favorite (cheap) burgundy – money well spent!
The Rhythm Machine was hired that summer (1972) to masquerade as several “ghost bands” (with live ghosts) at Disneyland. We played with Larry Elgart and Si Zentner that summer – those books were bass trombone showcases. As it happened, the Disneyland Band was looking for a bass trombone player right then. One of the music staff heard me and suggested that Disneyland music director, Jim Christensen, listen to me. Jim offered me a one-week trial with band, hired me – and I dropped out of CSLB forthwith. I also quit my job as a switchman for the Santa Fe Railroad – my last day (well, graveyard shift) gig.
One night at a jazz band rehearsal during my junior year, somebody said, “There’s this band in Orange County that needs a sub bass bone player tonight; call this number.” I did, and after three or so rehearsals, was invited to join the Orange County Rhythm Machine and Wind Ensemble – “Rhythm Machine” for short. I played in that band for 12 years. The Rhythm Machine included great players like Tom Ranier, Tom Kubis, Bill King, John Madrid, Johnny "Vatos" Hernandez, Rick Culver, and Alan Kaplan. While I won’t say the Rhythm Machine “evolved” into the Tom Kubis Big Band, they do share some "DNA." Tom wrote many charts for the Rhythm Machine that are in his book today. His bass trombone feature on Don't Get Around Much Any More was written at my request. I also later commissioned Rick to write his Suite for Unaccompanied Bass Trombone – for the princely sum of thirty bucks and a gallon of his favorite (cheap) burgundy – money well spent!
The Rhythm Machine was hired that summer (1972) to masquerade as several “ghost bands” (with live ghosts) at Disneyland. We played with Larry Elgart and Si Zentner that summer – those books were bass trombone showcases. As it happened, the Disneyland Band was looking for a bass trombone player right then. One of the music staff heard me and suggested that Disneyland music director, Jim Christensen, listen to me. Jim offered me a one-week trial with band, hired me – and I dropped out of CSLB forthwith. I also quit my job as a switchman for the Santa Fe Railroad – my last day (well, graveyard shift) gig.
Disneyland
In The Disneyland Band, we played two concerts a day in "Town Square" on "Main Street, USA" of traditional Americana band music, a couple parades down Main Street, a noontime big band jazz concert, two 40-minute sets in the afternoon with small groups (mine was the Polka Band – in the shadow of the Matterhorn), several parades, and the Flag Retreat Ceremony at ca. 5 pm. Two of the things I learned at Disneyland are I suck at memorizing and I am the worst polka tuba player in history. But learning to play tuba (thank you Stan Freese) was an opportunity for which I shall always be grateful (tuba opened my escape hatch from DL later on). Another lesson was, if you really need me to play Happy Birthday, you’re better off writing it down. That said, I worked there for three years. Twenty years old – full-time job – with benefits – playing trombone! My father was sore-amazed!
I'll digress again. My father worked in a steel foundry at the tail-end of the Great Depression – before World War II and the GI Bill. One of his friends there was a trombone player. The fact that this guy needed this day-gig (twelve kids may have had something to do with it) made it impossible for my dad to imagine making a living with a trombone. It frankly surprised me as well.
The Disneyland Band was a great experience for a young, wet-behind-the-ears, bass trombone player. The band members were seasoned pros. Several had been on the road with name big bands; several had worked in Hollywood studio staff orchestras and preferred a steady gig to freelancing (when contract orchestras went the way of the Dodo Bird); some had been at Disneyland since opening day. It was an apprenticeship with journeyman and master musicians – kind of like going on the road – minus the bus!
Since the day ended at 5 pm, the guys (there are now girls in the band, too; but not then) would frequently work gigs at night. They started recommending me to the leaders they worked for – usually big bands since I played bass trombone and couldn't fake my way out of a wet paper bag. This began opening the door for me in the freelance community.
I continued to work with the Rhythm Machine and there I met Alan Kaplan. We were about the same age and hit it off pretty well. I learned a lot playing with Alan (and Curt Berg and Rick Culver) and we worked together, here and there, for decades thereafter. Alan suggested I take some lessons with one of his teachers, Roy Main – another life-changer!
Roy’s approach was very different from my previous, etude and solo centered, training. Lots of scale & arpeggio patterns in every key and register and every tempo, flexibility drills that included tonguing (not just lip-slurs), mouthpiece buzzing, and a strong emphasis on articulation. Every lesson ended with sight-reading (for me – Roy knew the stuff cold) duets or etudes in octaves – keep up or die! It was a LOT of work. Roy’s first words to me were, “You’re gonna have to practice twice as much as the tenor players – do all their stuff and then go back and do it all down an octave.” I would show up at Disneyland three hours early and practice. I would practice on all the breaks (driving everybody nuts), stay after work and practice more, and go home and practice more – if not gigging. In all, I would study with Roy for about three years.
My exposure to what might be possible, led to me wanting out of Disneyland – desperately! The prospect of spending the rest of my life pounding up and down Main Street, playing Mickey Mouse March, did not appeal. One day, Jim Christensen, called me up to his office to recommend a colleague to play tuba for a kiddie show in the Park called Fun with Music. It would run six months. I recommended a friend and went off to the noon band concert – where I stopped and thought, “Hey! Wait a minute!”
Immediately after the concert, I ran back to Christensen’s office and suggested I do Fun with Music, my colleague do the six months in the DL Band, they then lay me off, and I could collect unemployment for a year while I broke into “the LA scene” (it took a little longer than that). Jim, a trombone player himself, said. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about this, you’re too good to stay here.” Thereafter, I continued to work for Jim in his group, Big Band Bones (five trombones and rhythm), and various and sundry concerts and recording projects for years to come. More eternal gratitude!
I'll digress again. My father worked in a steel foundry at the tail-end of the Great Depression – before World War II and the GI Bill. One of his friends there was a trombone player. The fact that this guy needed this day-gig (twelve kids may have had something to do with it) made it impossible for my dad to imagine making a living with a trombone. It frankly surprised me as well.
The Disneyland Band was a great experience for a young, wet-behind-the-ears, bass trombone player. The band members were seasoned pros. Several had been on the road with name big bands; several had worked in Hollywood studio staff orchestras and preferred a steady gig to freelancing (when contract orchestras went the way of the Dodo Bird); some had been at Disneyland since opening day. It was an apprenticeship with journeyman and master musicians – kind of like going on the road – minus the bus!
Since the day ended at 5 pm, the guys (there are now girls in the band, too; but not then) would frequently work gigs at night. They started recommending me to the leaders they worked for – usually big bands since I played bass trombone and couldn't fake my way out of a wet paper bag. This began opening the door for me in the freelance community.
I continued to work with the Rhythm Machine and there I met Alan Kaplan. We were about the same age and hit it off pretty well. I learned a lot playing with Alan (and Curt Berg and Rick Culver) and we worked together, here and there, for decades thereafter. Alan suggested I take some lessons with one of his teachers, Roy Main – another life-changer!
Roy’s approach was very different from my previous, etude and solo centered, training. Lots of scale & arpeggio patterns in every key and register and every tempo, flexibility drills that included tonguing (not just lip-slurs), mouthpiece buzzing, and a strong emphasis on articulation. Every lesson ended with sight-reading (for me – Roy knew the stuff cold) duets or etudes in octaves – keep up or die! It was a LOT of work. Roy’s first words to me were, “You’re gonna have to practice twice as much as the tenor players – do all their stuff and then go back and do it all down an octave.” I would show up at Disneyland three hours early and practice. I would practice on all the breaks (driving everybody nuts), stay after work and practice more, and go home and practice more – if not gigging. In all, I would study with Roy for about three years.
My exposure to what might be possible, led to me wanting out of Disneyland – desperately! The prospect of spending the rest of my life pounding up and down Main Street, playing Mickey Mouse March, did not appeal. One day, Jim Christensen, called me up to his office to recommend a colleague to play tuba for a kiddie show in the Park called Fun with Music. It would run six months. I recommended a friend and went off to the noon band concert – where I stopped and thought, “Hey! Wait a minute!”
Immediately after the concert, I ran back to Christensen’s office and suggested I do Fun with Music, my colleague do the six months in the DL Band, they then lay me off, and I could collect unemployment for a year while I broke into “the LA scene” (it took a little longer than that). Jim, a trombone player himself, said. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about this, you’re too good to stay here.” Thereafter, I continued to work for Jim in his group, Big Band Bones (five trombones and rhythm), and various and sundry concerts and recording projects for years to come. More eternal gratitude!
FREEDOM!
Lotsa time to practice. Subbing in many rehearsal bands down at Local 47. Very occasional gigs. Trying to break in. . . . Waiting!
During my last year at DL, Roy had recommended me to Hoyt Bohannon and Tommy Pederson to sub at "Hoyt’s Garage." I did. After my first night, Hoyt told me, “Don’t call us; we’ll call you.” He did. Another huge challenge and learning opportunity – that stuff was hard and some of the best players in town were there! After a few months, I became a regular for several decades until Hoyt passed and the group dissolved.
Some folks may not know what “Hoyt’s Garage” was. Hoyt Bohannon was a very successful studio trombonist in LA. From 1946, Hoyt hosted trombone ensemble rehearsals. From 1951, they took place in a room attached to his garage – hence, "Hoyt's Garage." This was just before my time, but here is a live broadcast from 1973. Hear Hoyt perform the Trombone Concerto by Nathan Shilkret here. In the mid-fifties, Tommy Pederson, a trombone legend, joined the group. Tommy's virtuosity can be heard in this humorous clip.
For decades, Hoyt’s Garage was a de facto audition to break into studio work. The first time at The Garage was an overwhelming experience. There was this stunning array of trombone players. The music was extraordinarily challenging. The contrast between Hoyt Bohannon and Tommy Pederson’s personalities and their mutual respect and friendship was a joy to behold. This difference was clear in their music. Hoyt’s was largely adaptations and arrangements of orchestral, chamber and vocal music as well as music by great film composers. Tommy’s was mostly original music that reflected his bravura approach to life in general (Tommy was way, way, WAY – larger than life!). Alan Kaplan’s two Secrets of Hoyt’s Garage CDs and All My Concertos (available used or as an mp3 album online), produced by Jim and Debbie Boltinghouse (JMD Music), illustrate this contrast vividly. I was honored to play The Orators with my friend Bill Booth for the project in 2003. Alan wrote a nice piece about the Garage here.
During my last year at DL, Roy had recommended me to Hoyt Bohannon and Tommy Pederson to sub at "Hoyt’s Garage." I did. After my first night, Hoyt told me, “Don’t call us; we’ll call you.” He did. Another huge challenge and learning opportunity – that stuff was hard and some of the best players in town were there! After a few months, I became a regular for several decades until Hoyt passed and the group dissolved.
Some folks may not know what “Hoyt’s Garage” was. Hoyt Bohannon was a very successful studio trombonist in LA. From 1946, Hoyt hosted trombone ensemble rehearsals. From 1951, they took place in a room attached to his garage – hence, "Hoyt's Garage." This was just before my time, but here is a live broadcast from 1973. Hear Hoyt perform the Trombone Concerto by Nathan Shilkret here. In the mid-fifties, Tommy Pederson, a trombone legend, joined the group. Tommy's virtuosity can be heard in this humorous clip.
For decades, Hoyt’s Garage was a de facto audition to break into studio work. The first time at The Garage was an overwhelming experience. There was this stunning array of trombone players. The music was extraordinarily challenging. The contrast between Hoyt Bohannon and Tommy Pederson’s personalities and their mutual respect and friendship was a joy to behold. This difference was clear in their music. Hoyt’s was largely adaptations and arrangements of orchestral, chamber and vocal music as well as music by great film composers. Tommy’s was mostly original music that reflected his bravura approach to life in general (Tommy was way, way, WAY – larger than life!). Alan Kaplan’s two Secrets of Hoyt’s Garage CDs and All My Concertos (available used or as an mp3 album online), produced by Jim and Debbie Boltinghouse (JMD Music), illustrate this contrast vividly. I was honored to play The Orators with my friend Bill Booth for the project in 2003. Alan wrote a nice piece about the Garage here.
A New Direction
In the late 70’s, I auditioned for and joined the Long Beach Symphony. This began a change in the trajectory of my career. With the help of my section-mates, John Hollenbeck and Al Veeh, I began to transmogrify into the “poor man’s orchestra bass bone guy” in SoCal: Pacific Symphony, Opera Pacific, Hollywood Bowl Orchestra, subbing in the LA Phil . . . I should point out I was not really trained as an orchestral musician. I stumbled through 30 years in Pacific Symphony on the theory that "She went to Juilliard. I didn't. Maybe I'll play it that way next time." Another learning opportunity! For the first fifteen years of my career, I couldn’t get arrested in an orchestra; for the last fifteen, I couldn’t get arrested in a big band. So it goes.
Well . . . that’s not entirely true. Around 1981, when my friend, Rich Bullock, began his day gig at Rockwell, I took over his chair in Bill Watrous’ Refuge West and Jack Sheldon’s band for a couple years until Rich was established enough at work to return to playing gigs. I also played tuba in Jimmy Cleveland's 10-piece (if memory serves) band. And I subbed for Phil Teele here and there, from time to time, including rehearsals for the Toshiko Akioshi Lew Tabackin Big Band and did two short tours with them when Phil had a couple big movie calls. The WBEZ broadcast of the band’s appearance at the 1982 Chicago Jazz Festival when I was there can be heard here.
One more not-so-humble brag . . . in 1987, I was invited to play on Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas by the Hollywood Trombones when someone had to drop out. (The LP and CD can be found used.) This was a huge deal for me! I was very lucky.
Speaking of Phil Teele, I asked to study with him. He declined, saying, “Anytime you wanna come over and play duets . . .” So I did every few weeks for a year and a half or so, which led to me subbing for him. I learned as much as if I had taken lessons – and for free! The first thing he said to me was, “Do you like to play fast?” I said, “sure” – and we were off to the races! (This may have been my audition to sub with Toshiko – thank you Roy!) We played a lot of clarinet duets, putting them in bass clef and adding three flats. (Adding three flats to a piece in Eb minor gets pretty exciting.)
One piece of Phil’s inimitable wisdom: “When you sit down with Dick & Lloyd, and the trombones are out of tune, everybody in the room knows who did it.” Another was: "We aren't as 'perfect' as you think.You gotta be able to do 98% of the stuff, at a 98% level, 98% of the time." And finally: "In order to 'outflow' music, you need to 'inflow' music. Listen to a lot of music!" (Singers)
Well . . . that’s not entirely true. Around 1981, when my friend, Rich Bullock, began his day gig at Rockwell, I took over his chair in Bill Watrous’ Refuge West and Jack Sheldon’s band for a couple years until Rich was established enough at work to return to playing gigs. I also played tuba in Jimmy Cleveland's 10-piece (if memory serves) band. And I subbed for Phil Teele here and there, from time to time, including rehearsals for the Toshiko Akioshi Lew Tabackin Big Band and did two short tours with them when Phil had a couple big movie calls. The WBEZ broadcast of the band’s appearance at the 1982 Chicago Jazz Festival when I was there can be heard here.
One more not-so-humble brag . . . in 1987, I was invited to play on Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas by the Hollywood Trombones when someone had to drop out. (The LP and CD can be found used.) This was a huge deal for me! I was very lucky.
Speaking of Phil Teele, I asked to study with him. He declined, saying, “Anytime you wanna come over and play duets . . .” So I did every few weeks for a year and a half or so, which led to me subbing for him. I learned as much as if I had taken lessons – and for free! The first thing he said to me was, “Do you like to play fast?” I said, “sure” – and we were off to the races! (This may have been my audition to sub with Toshiko – thank you Roy!) We played a lot of clarinet duets, putting them in bass clef and adding three flats. (Adding three flats to a piece in Eb minor gets pretty exciting.)
One piece of Phil’s inimitable wisdom: “When you sit down with Dick & Lloyd, and the trombones are out of tune, everybody in the room knows who did it.” Another was: "We aren't as 'perfect' as you think.You gotta be able to do 98% of the stuff, at a 98% level, 98% of the time." And finally: "In order to 'outflow' music, you need to 'inflow' music. Listen to a lot of music!" (Singers)
One Thing Leads to Another
My association with Long Beach Symphony led to the Composers Brass Quintet. Two of the trumpet players, Steve Charpie and Craig Parker, and I began to discuss forming a brass quintet. I mentioned this to Roy Main, and to my surprise, he asked, “Can I be in it?” After discussion with Steve and Craig, the answer was yes! I also suggested Jim Thatcher for horn and The Composers Brass Quintet was born. It prospered for a decade or so. A note to aspiring bass trombonists: there is nothing better for your bass trombone playing than playing the tuba book in a brass quintet.
Craig was working on his Ph.D. in historical musicology at UCLA where one of the theory teachers and Ph.D. candidates, James Horner (R.I.P.), was starting to score some minor film projects. Craig thought it would be a good idea to ask him write a piece for us. He did. He came to the concert and was very complimentary – and that was that. This was probably 1979. What follows was serendipitous.
Some months later, in 1980, I got hired to do some sessions for a movie. I said yes. About a week after that, I got a phone call about 8 pm: “Hi, this is James Horner, we're working together next week, can we talk about the bass trombone?” We did. How high? How low? How fast? Unison, octaves & fifths with the tuba. We talked for more than an hour. We recorded Battle Beyond the Stars (he was about 27 years old). I attended the premiere and chatted with James afterward. He requested me for every picture he did in LA that used bass trombone for the next thirty-two years. That kind of loyalty is rare! (My favorite Horner cue of all time.)
Through Horner, I met contractor Nathan Kaproff, and through Nate, got to work for Elmer Bernstein, John Barry, Bill Conti, David Newman, Ernest Gold, and so on. This coincided with George Roberts' decision to semi-retire and move to Lake Tahoe, creating a vacuum in the matrix – again, serendipitous synchronicity. Nate was undyingly loyal, too. Gradually, other contractors took notice . . .
One is forced to assume the members of Nate's low brass section, Dick Nash, Lloyd Ulyate and Tommy Johnson, were consulted about my inclusion. They were wonderful; showing me the ropes, telling when to keep my mouth shut (very important), and taking me to their time-honored lunch dives. A few years later, when George moved back to SoCal, Nate was at a loss for what to do. He asked Dick, who said, “Bob didn’t make George leave town . . .” And so . . . I stayed on Nate's list – again, gratitude!
If one is interested in George Roberts' legendary path, see this.Dystonia
All told, I worked on 270 motion picture scores, a significant, but moderate, amount. I know folk who have done a thousand or more, but Focal Dystonia cut things short for me. I started to break in when I was 30; pretty much "arrived" when I was 40; and got hurt when I was 50 – so it goes. But, combined with TV, jingles, big band, symphony orchestra, ballet, opera, musical theatre, chamber music, church gigs – and teaching – it was a pretty good run. The great thing about freelancing is variety! It never got old.
It did end prematurely, but all in all, I was very fortunate.
Craig was working on his Ph.D. in historical musicology at UCLA where one of the theory teachers and Ph.D. candidates, James Horner (R.I.P.), was starting to score some minor film projects. Craig thought it would be a good idea to ask him write a piece for us. He did. He came to the concert and was very complimentary – and that was that. This was probably 1979. What follows was serendipitous.
Some months later, in 1980, I got hired to do some sessions for a movie. I said yes. About a week after that, I got a phone call about 8 pm: “Hi, this is James Horner, we're working together next week, can we talk about the bass trombone?” We did. How high? How low? How fast? Unison, octaves & fifths with the tuba. We talked for more than an hour. We recorded Battle Beyond the Stars (he was about 27 years old). I attended the premiere and chatted with James afterward. He requested me for every picture he did in LA that used bass trombone for the next thirty-two years. That kind of loyalty is rare! (My favorite Horner cue of all time.)
Through Horner, I met contractor Nathan Kaproff, and through Nate, got to work for Elmer Bernstein, John Barry, Bill Conti, David Newman, Ernest Gold, and so on. This coincided with George Roberts' decision to semi-retire and move to Lake Tahoe, creating a vacuum in the matrix – again, serendipitous synchronicity. Nate was undyingly loyal, too. Gradually, other contractors took notice . . .
One is forced to assume the members of Nate's low brass section, Dick Nash, Lloyd Ulyate and Tommy Johnson, were consulted about my inclusion. They were wonderful; showing me the ropes, telling when to keep my mouth shut (very important), and taking me to their time-honored lunch dives. A few years later, when George moved back to SoCal, Nate was at a loss for what to do. He asked Dick, who said, “Bob didn’t make George leave town . . .” And so . . . I stayed on Nate's list – again, gratitude!
If one is interested in George Roberts' legendary path, see this.Dystonia
All told, I worked on 270 motion picture scores, a significant, but moderate, amount. I know folk who have done a thousand or more, but Focal Dystonia cut things short for me. I started to break in when I was 30; pretty much "arrived" when I was 40; and got hurt when I was 50 – so it goes. But, combined with TV, jingles, big band, symphony orchestra, ballet, opera, musical theatre, chamber music, church gigs – and teaching – it was a pretty good run. The great thing about freelancing is variety! It never got old.
It did end prematurely, but all in all, I was very fortunate.
Decline and Fall
In the late 1990’s I began to experience some response issues below the staff. I thought it was because I couldn't open my jaw enough due to Temporomandibular Joint Disorder (“TMJ(D)”). Therefore, in 1999, I consulted Dr. Steven Graff-Radford, DDS at Cedars-Sinai. He was unable to help. In September 2000, I began a two-and-a-half-year run of The Lion King at The Pantages Theatre. How I got through it I still don’t know. Walking in to the first rehearsal I overheard, “I don’t know what it is about this show; we usually have to fire somebody, usually one of the drummers.” It was a more than a little nerve-wracking! Fortunately, no one was fired, but I was on edge for five or six months. Two-and-a-half-years of Lion King led to several more years of shows at the Pantages, but dystonia eventually made that tough to do. I recorded The Orators, Tommy Pederson's duo concerto with my friend, Bill Booth in 2003 – with the dystonia. That was tough – and scary – but we did it.
In 2003, I got an NTI-tss® device from Dr. James Boyd of the Neurology and Headache Center of Southern California. In 2004, I consulted Dr. Joseph Schames, DMD, regarding TMJ, who recommended I see a neurologist. To be clear, I had TMJ in addition to (and because, I think, of the stress from) dystonia. The NTI-tss® device in combination with the Trigeminal Pharyngioplasty procedure, performed by Dr. Paul Guerrero, D.C. at Muscle Works in Glendora, CA, eliminated the TMJ. (The procedure is quite uncomfortable and required several visits.) But the dystonia remained – and progressed.
In late 2004 I saw Dr. Steven Frucht at the Neurological Institute, Columbia University, New York, who diagnosed task-specific focal embouchure dystonia. Dr. Frucht is, perhaps, the leading expert on embouchure dystonia. However, diagnosis is NOT treatment. There are several treatment options – more now than then. Then, there were few applicable to embouchure dystonia. I suggested to Dr. Frucht that a friend of mine had some success with Klonopin. He thought that might work and prescribed it. It helped me get through the next decade.
In early 2005, I went to Texas to work with Jan Kagarice. She was very helpful and supportive. She thought the Klonopin would likely inhibit the brain’s plasticity and therefore it's ability to heal. Perhaps she was right, but I had to go to work – I had a mortgage.
I was able to keep things going until around 2014 – for live, orchestral, concert work – most of which is 3rd trombone, not much below the staff. Studio work had started to fade for me around 2010. Both music directors for the orchestras I primarily worked for, John Mauceri and Carl St. Clair, were very supportive while I wrestled with dystonia – as was Horner – and many of my colleagues. More gratitude!
From 2014 on, my relationship with the trombone has been as a teacher, not a performer. It was a pretty good run – with a little luck and a lotta help. I am grateful. I am retired.
I discontinued Klonopin and did not play for about 2 years. Then I started to play a couple pitiful minutes a day – then 5 – then 10 – then 15 – then 30 – and so on. Things slowly got less and less pitiful. I appear to be in remission (for want of a better word). I can now play below the staff again. However, I no longer have the "fire in the belly" – or the economic necessity – to spend the time and energy necessary to get – and stay – what I'd call "good" again. But I can make a little music from time to time, here and there; and provide an occasional demonstration for a student with the caveat: "things ain't what they usta wuz."
NOTE: Dystonia is rare. Amateur or self-diagnosis is a serious mistake and can lead down a rabbit-hole with a can of worms at the bottom.
There are some pics . . .
In 2003, I got an NTI-tss® device from Dr. James Boyd of the Neurology and Headache Center of Southern California. In 2004, I consulted Dr. Joseph Schames, DMD, regarding TMJ, who recommended I see a neurologist. To be clear, I had TMJ in addition to (and because, I think, of the stress from) dystonia. The NTI-tss® device in combination with the Trigeminal Pharyngioplasty procedure, performed by Dr. Paul Guerrero, D.C. at Muscle Works in Glendora, CA, eliminated the TMJ. (The procedure is quite uncomfortable and required several visits.) But the dystonia remained – and progressed.
In late 2004 I saw Dr. Steven Frucht at the Neurological Institute, Columbia University, New York, who diagnosed task-specific focal embouchure dystonia. Dr. Frucht is, perhaps, the leading expert on embouchure dystonia. However, diagnosis is NOT treatment. There are several treatment options – more now than then. Then, there were few applicable to embouchure dystonia. I suggested to Dr. Frucht that a friend of mine had some success with Klonopin. He thought that might work and prescribed it. It helped me get through the next decade.
In early 2005, I went to Texas to work with Jan Kagarice. She was very helpful and supportive. She thought the Klonopin would likely inhibit the brain’s plasticity and therefore it's ability to heal. Perhaps she was right, but I had to go to work – I had a mortgage.
I was able to keep things going until around 2014 – for live, orchestral, concert work – most of which is 3rd trombone, not much below the staff. Studio work had started to fade for me around 2010. Both music directors for the orchestras I primarily worked for, John Mauceri and Carl St. Clair, were very supportive while I wrestled with dystonia – as was Horner – and many of my colleagues. More gratitude!
From 2014 on, my relationship with the trombone has been as a teacher, not a performer. It was a pretty good run – with a little luck and a lotta help. I am grateful. I am retired.
I discontinued Klonopin and did not play for about 2 years. Then I started to play a couple pitiful minutes a day – then 5 – then 10 – then 15 – then 30 – and so on. Things slowly got less and less pitiful. I appear to be in remission (for want of a better word). I can now play below the staff again. However, I no longer have the "fire in the belly" – or the economic necessity – to spend the time and energy necessary to get – and stay – what I'd call "good" again. But I can make a little music from time to time, here and there; and provide an occasional demonstration for a student with the caveat: "things ain't what they usta wuz."
NOTE: Dystonia is rare. Amateur or self-diagnosis is a serious mistake and can lead down a rabbit-hole with a can of worms at the bottom.
There are some pics . . .