Just yesterday I was having lunch with two dear friends, one of whom I hadn’t seen in more than 15 years (John). The other? Well, the other’s been a pal for over 20. He’s my culture guy, my music bud, my movie partner (Ron). Many years ago, the three of us worked together at what many call the country’s flagship PBS station. We converged at a perfect time in our lives. I was just out of school and Ron and John had a couple of years on me, but not so many that we couldn’t relate. Ron is a music savant. John is a musician. I was into typical late ‘80s alt pop, but wanted to expand my horizons. Along come these two. John, at the time, was also the choral conductor at nearby Church, and his knowledge of classical, jazz and show tunes far exceeded anybody in my small post college world. And Ron, Ron never stopped listening to new music. He was a shark. Never wanting to become a fogey who only listened to what he listened to as a teenager, he made it his mission to stay current. These were my teachers.
Prior to graduation, my only experience of jazz and swing came from the summer I worked at Banana Republic. Before they became the Gap for grownups, BR billed itself as “travel & safari clothing.” Their in-store soundtracks were a lesson in WWII and post war music history.
Yesterday’s conversation inevitably turned to music, and I, still, all these years later, felt like the rookie at the table. We started to reminisce, and it was John who pointed out that together, we saw some of the greats - Sarah Vaughn, Betty Carter and Carmen McRae - culminating in a trip to Tanglewood to see Ella. We thought we were lucky then. But yesterday, over dim sum, able to unearth and share these moments all these years later, we knew it.
Listen to Susan Stamberg’s excellent profile on Ella here:
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