GENESIS and EXODUS
My rise to fame and fortune – LOL – in the Music Business
Warning: this goes on at some length! Fasten yer seatbelt.
(or turn the page)
My rise to fame and fortune – LOL – in the Music Business
Warning: this goes on at some length! Fasten yer seatbelt.
(or turn the page)
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. In all honesty, in hindsight, it feels like the path of least resistance – perhaps because it was the right path.
Pursuing a music career is not entirely sane. If you can imagine doing anything else for a living – DO THAT! (Actors face similar questions.) The odds are simply not good and there are many ways to have fulfilling musical life without doing it for a living. 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. But . . . check out the Future of the Music Business.
As to my path, if anyone is interested, I can relate what, to the best of my recollection, transpired. Perhaps this will be interesting or helpful to some . . . or not . . . it's a very long read. Here goes . . .
Pursuing a music career is not entirely sane. If you can imagine doing anything else for a living – DO THAT! (Actors face similar questions.) The odds are simply not good and there are many ways to have fulfilling musical life without doing it for a living. 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. But . . . check out the Future of the Music Business.
As to my path, if anyone is interested, I can relate what, to the best of my recollection, transpired. Perhaps this will be interesting or helpful to some . . . or not . . . it's a very long read. 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 particularly 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 examination 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 whole lotta air comes in real handy! But, as Jim Markey rightly points out, a whole lotta air ain't necessarily necessary.
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 particularly 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 examination 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 whole lotta air comes in real handy! But, as Jim Markey rightly points out, a whole lotta air ain't necessarily necessary.
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 can't 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 record 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 M.A. in journalism from Columbia University, 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 – or acting). My dad could and would (at the drop of a hat) 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 M.A. in journalism from Columbia University, 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 – or acting). My dad could and would (at the drop of a hat) 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 – no time wasted 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. We also had a Johnson Intonation Trainer which I played with endlessly – make the "beats" go away! These were not cheap – $525 in 1966 dollars, ca. $5,000 in 2024 dollars!
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 fine 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 was very supportive and 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 – last trombone! (the story of my life). 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.” They did. 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 timidly, 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, Don Wilcox offered me 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 idea 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 young 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 an actual 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-spanking-new bass trombone and a 1½G bass trombone mouthpiece. Mitch ended up 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 in my junior year in high school, playing Brahms, Beethoven, Shostakovich, et al. Then the OCC brass ensemble, the jazz band, in the pit for shows, ballets, and operas . . . invaluable experience! When I switched to bass trombone, Don moved up from bass to first to make room for me. 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 a few years later hired me to teach trombone at the university.
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 unforgettable highlight of my CMHS days occurred in Earl's Thursday evening rehearsal band. The band consisted of local band directors, professionals, and select students. For a couple weeks one summer, 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 to keep his chops up. It was amazing!! I naively turned around at the break and said, "You sound great! My name's Bob Sanders," and stuck out my hand. He smiled, 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. We also had a Johnson Intonation Trainer which I played with endlessly – make the "beats" go away! These were not cheap – $525 in 1966 dollars, ca. $5,000 in 2024 dollars!
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 fine 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 was very supportive and 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 – last trombone! (the story of my life). 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.” They did. 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 timidly, 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, Don Wilcox offered me 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 idea 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 young 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 an actual 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-spanking-new bass trombone and a 1½G bass trombone mouthpiece. Mitch ended up 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 in my junior year in high school, playing Brahms, Beethoven, Shostakovich, et al. Then the OCC brass ensemble, the jazz band, in the pit for shows, ballets, and operas . . . invaluable experience! When I switched to bass trombone, Don moved up from bass to first to make room for me. 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 a few years later hired me to teach trombone at the university.
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 unforgettable highlight of my CMHS days occurred in Earl's Thursday evening rehearsal band. The band consisted of local band directors, professionals, and select students. For a couple weeks one summer, 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 to keep his chops up. It was amazing!! I naively turned around at the break and said, "You sound great! My name's Bob Sanders," and stuck out my hand. He smiled, 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, brass ensemble, etc. I studied with Jeff Reynolds of the LA Phil and one of his teachers, Robert Simmergren – both huge influences on me!
Initially, I lived at home with my folks, 15 miles from campus. My VW bus got 30 mpg; gas cost 25 cents a gallon; if I could come with a quarter, I could get to school and back. I started teaching 30-minute trombone lessons at $5 a pop – driving from one end of SoCal to another. Soon I could afford to move out. (I've been teaching lessons a long time!)
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.
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 the 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 (graveyard shift) gig.
Initially, I lived at home with my folks, 15 miles from campus. My VW bus got 30 mpg; gas cost 25 cents a gallon; if I could come with a quarter, I could get to school and back. I started teaching 30-minute trombone lessons at $5 a pop – driving from one end of SoCal to another. Soon I could afford to move out. (I've been teaching lessons a long time!)
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.
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 the 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 (graveyard shift) gig.
Workin' for da Mouse
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, and two 40-minute sets in the afternoon with small groups (mine was the Polka Band – in the shadow of Das Matterhorn). 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 (my boss) – 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 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 changed his life. One of his friends there was a trombone player. The fact that this guy needed this day-gig to make ends meet (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. Others 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 working at Disneyland since opening day. It was a de facto apprenticeship with journeyman and master musicians – kind of like going on the road – minus the bus!
If anyone is interested, here is some history of The Disneyland Band. (Sadly – to me – the Disneyland Band as I knew it has been summarily swept into the dustbin of history – replaced by a professional iteration of the All American College Band.)
Since the workday ended at 5 PM, the guys (there are now gals in the band, but not then) would frequently work gigs at night. (The first priority in initial contract negotiations was a 5 PM out-time. Musicians didn't want to give up their cocktail hour gigs – thinking this "amusement park" would probably go belly-up in short order. LOL!) 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 game-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. Roy pushed my technique to the limit. Every lesson ended with sight-reading (for me – Roy knew the stuff cold) duets or etudes in octaves – keep up or die! (Thank you, Duane!) 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 (sporadically). 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, USA" playing Mickey Mouse March, did not appeal. I should point out, I know many fine musicians who have made a career at Disneyland, it just wasn't what I wanted as a young whippersnapper starting out.
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 the show, 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.
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 changed his life. One of his friends there was a trombone player. The fact that this guy needed this day-gig to make ends meet (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. Others 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 working at Disneyland since opening day. It was a de facto apprenticeship with journeyman and master musicians – kind of like going on the road – minus the bus!
If anyone is interested, here is some history of The Disneyland Band. (Sadly – to me – the Disneyland Band as I knew it has been summarily swept into the dustbin of history – replaced by a professional iteration of the All American College Band.)
Since the workday ended at 5 PM, the guys (there are now gals in the band, but not then) would frequently work gigs at night. (The first priority in initial contract negotiations was a 5 PM out-time. Musicians didn't want to give up their cocktail hour gigs – thinking this "amusement park" would probably go belly-up in short order. LOL!) 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 game-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. Roy pushed my technique to the limit. Every lesson ended with sight-reading (for me – Roy knew the stuff cold) duets or etudes in octaves – keep up or die! (Thank you, Duane!) 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 (sporadically). 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, USA" playing Mickey Mouse March, did not appeal. I should point out, I know many fine musicians who have made a career at Disneyland, it just wasn't what I wanted as a young whippersnapper starting out.
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 the show, 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.
FREEDOM!
Lotsa time to practice. Subbing in many rehearsal bands down at the AFM Local 47 Union Hall in Hollywood. 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.
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.
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. In 1984, I auditioned for Pacific Symphony, where I spent 30 years; this led to Opera Pacific, for its entire life, which lead to 25 years in the Hollywood Bowl Orchestra. All of that led to subbing with the LA Phil and various and sundry "classical" gigs around town.
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 he 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 (dang I'm old), 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 are out of print but can be found used.) This was a huge deal for me! I was very lucky. I suspect both Jeff & Roy conspired to make this possible.
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 week or two for a year and a half or so, which led to me subbing for him here and there. 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 Main!) 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.” (He also added, "Don't worry, you play in tune.") Another was: "What we do isn't as perfect as you think it is. You need to be able to do 98% of the stuff at a 98% level 98% of the time." And finally: "In order to 'outflow' music, ya gotta 'inflow' music. Listen to LOTS of all kinds of music!" (Singers)
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 he 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 (dang I'm old), 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 are out of print but can be found used.) This was a huge deal for me! I was very lucky. I suspect both Jeff & Roy conspired to make this possible.
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 week or two for a year and a half or so, which led to me subbing for him here and there. 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 Main!) 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.” (He also added, "Don't worry, you play in tune.") Another was: "What we do isn't as perfect as you think it is. You need to be able to do 98% of the stuff at a 98% level 98% of the time." And finally: "In order to 'outflow' music, ya gotta 'inflow' music. Listen to LOTS of all kinds of music!" (Singers)
Continuing Education
So . . . I dropped out of Cal State Long Beach, but there is (a little) more to the story. In addition to trombone studies and my Disneyland apprenticeship, I studied piano and composition privately for a year and a half with Abby Fraser. He was the single best teacher of anything I have ever encountered. It was another life-changing experience.
Curt Berg referred me to Abby. Apparently, many big-time musicians (J.J. Johnson, Dick Nash, etc,) had studied with Abby. I had procrastinated for about 5 years before seeking him out. After a year-and-a-half or so, I showed up for my lesson to learn he had passed away. It broke my heart – he was a genius and a sweetheart. I have been kicking myself ever since for dragging my feet.
Abby had been a staff pianist at NBC during Toscanini’s tenure. In addition to professionals, he taught wives and kids of NBC executives. He developed a method for teaching serious music to amateurs – and trombone players!
Abby retired to Studio City which is where I took my lessons. He was equally adept in jazz and classical piano. His studio was lined with books, all of which he had read and could quote. The closet was full of tapes of live concerts he had recorded surreptitiously. No matter what I had played in concert that week, he would play (selections from) it from memory on the piano at the start of each lesson.
No scales, no method books – he would say, “Why practice easy music when you can practice real music SLOWLY. I started with harmonizing the circle of fourths, then standard tunes, then Chopin waltzes, then the Well-Tempered Clavier – very, very, VERY slowly! This coincided with counterpoint and harmony. Abby would say, “What’s with lowercase Roman Numerals? If you don’t know the two chord is minor, find something else to do!” He attributed that line to Arnold Schoenberg. He had studied with one of Schoenberg’s first "pupils" (the word Abby always used).
I had been working on I Got Rhythm. I sort of had it (slowly) under my fingers in C. Abby said, "Now play it in B." I got VERY frustrated. He then said, "Relax. You think everybody can do this?" The next (very young) pupil arrived. Abby said, "Bob's working on I Got Rhythm; you know that. He then asked me, what style, what meter?" I said, "Uh . . ." Abby said, "How about Monk in five?" BOOM!
After Abby passed, I wanted to continue study. I asked Greig McRitchie for lessons, who said, “Go to college.” So . . . at Roy Main's suggestion, I talked my way into Cal State LA to pursue an masters degree in composition. (To be clear, I had no designs on being a composer. I'd just had taken enough trombone lessons and wanted to learn a little more about music.) I pitched the notion that 80 or so undergrad units combined with 20 years professional experience roughly equaled a bachelors degree in trombone performance. They bought it.
My composition teacher was Byong-Kon Kim. He was brilliant. His emphasis was free twelve-tone (not my favorite) – "That implies tertian harmony – lose it." But he knew everything! “If you teach Piston, Kennan, and Grout for a couple decades, you know what’s in there.” Milton Stern generously accepted me into his piano studio despite not really being a pianist. I was by far his weakest piano student, but learned so much. Olga Termini was an astonishing music history scholar and professor.
I completed my composition project and every requirement for graduation – save one. My father had passed away and my studio career was getting busier. The upshot is I am one annotated bibliography in History of the Baroque shy of a master’s degree. I do have the education – just not the “boxtop.”
I do not recommend this path! Collect yer boxtops! They'll come in handy.
Curt Berg referred me to Abby. Apparently, many big-time musicians (J.J. Johnson, Dick Nash, etc,) had studied with Abby. I had procrastinated for about 5 years before seeking him out. After a year-and-a-half or so, I showed up for my lesson to learn he had passed away. It broke my heart – he was a genius and a sweetheart. I have been kicking myself ever since for dragging my feet.
Abby had been a staff pianist at NBC during Toscanini’s tenure. In addition to professionals, he taught wives and kids of NBC executives. He developed a method for teaching serious music to amateurs – and trombone players!
Abby retired to Studio City which is where I took my lessons. He was equally adept in jazz and classical piano. His studio was lined with books, all of which he had read and could quote. The closet was full of tapes of live concerts he had recorded surreptitiously. No matter what I had played in concert that week, he would play (selections from) it from memory on the piano at the start of each lesson.
No scales, no method books – he would say, “Why practice easy music when you can practice real music SLOWLY. I started with harmonizing the circle of fourths, then standard tunes, then Chopin waltzes, then the Well-Tempered Clavier – very, very, VERY slowly! This coincided with counterpoint and harmony. Abby would say, “What’s with lowercase Roman Numerals? If you don’t know the two chord is minor, find something else to do!” He attributed that line to Arnold Schoenberg. He had studied with one of Schoenberg’s first "pupils" (the word Abby always used).
I had been working on I Got Rhythm. I sort of had it (slowly) under my fingers in C. Abby said, "Now play it in B." I got VERY frustrated. He then said, "Relax. You think everybody can do this?" The next (very young) pupil arrived. Abby said, "Bob's working on I Got Rhythm; you know that. He then asked me, what style, what meter?" I said, "Uh . . ." Abby said, "How about Monk in five?" BOOM!
After Abby passed, I wanted to continue study. I asked Greig McRitchie for lessons, who said, “Go to college.” So . . . at Roy Main's suggestion, I talked my way into Cal State LA to pursue an masters degree in composition. (To be clear, I had no designs on being a composer. I'd just had taken enough trombone lessons and wanted to learn a little more about music.) I pitched the notion that 80 or so undergrad units combined with 20 years professional experience roughly equaled a bachelors degree in trombone performance. They bought it.
My composition teacher was Byong-Kon Kim. He was brilliant. His emphasis was free twelve-tone (not my favorite) – "That implies tertian harmony – lose it." But he knew everything! “If you teach Piston, Kennan, and Grout for a couple decades, you know what’s in there.” Milton Stern generously accepted me into his piano studio despite not really being a pianist. I was by far his weakest piano student, but learned so much. Olga Termini was an astonishing music history scholar and professor.
I completed my composition project and every requirement for graduation – save one. My father had passed away and my studio career was getting busier. The upshot is I am one annotated bibliography in History of the Baroque shy of a master’s degree. I do have the education – just not the “boxtop.”
I do not recommend this path! Collect yer boxtops! They'll come in handy.
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 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 (on bass trombone) 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). It was a lot of fun – unison down low with the tuba (and Craig Huxley's fabulous Blaster Beam) throughout – well before contrabass trombone was even a twinkle in my eye (there are some silly low notes here). 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! (Here's 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 me 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.
I started to work when I was 20, to "break-in" when I was 30; had pretty much "arrived" when I was 40; and got hurt when I was 50 – so it goes. All told, I worked on 270 motion picture scores, a significant, but moderate, number. I know folk who have done a thousand or more. Focal Dystonia cut things short for me (see Decline and Fall and Maladies & Remedies). But, combined with TV, jingles, big band, symphony orchestra, ballet, opera, musical theatre, chamber music, church gigs – and teaching – I had a pretty good run. The great thing about freelancing is variety! It never got old (though I did).
It did end prematurely, but all in all, I was very fortunate – and am very grateful.
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). It was a lot of fun – unison down low with the tuba (and Craig Huxley's fabulous Blaster Beam) throughout – well before contrabass trombone was even a twinkle in my eye (there are some silly low notes here). 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! (Here's 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 me 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.
I started to work when I was 20, to "break-in" when I was 30; had pretty much "arrived" when I was 40; and got hurt when I was 50 – so it goes. All told, I worked on 270 motion picture scores, a significant, but moderate, number. I know folk who have done a thousand or more. Focal Dystonia cut things short for me (see Decline and Fall and Maladies & Remedies). But, combined with TV, jingles, big band, symphony orchestra, ballet, opera, musical theatre, chamber music, church gigs – and teaching – I had a pretty good run. The great thing about freelancing is variety! It never got old (though I did).
It did end prematurely, but all in all, I was very fortunate – and am very grateful.
There are some pics . . .
These interviews cover some of the same ground.