A bittersweet anniversary ... and an amazing treat

Fifty years ago today, likely in the late afternoon, Vince Guaraldi would have smiled in satisfaction.

He and his trio members — Seward McCain, bass; and Jim Zimmerman, drums — had just completed the third and final recording session for the 15th Peanuts TV special, It’s Arbor Day, Charlie Brown, at San Francisco’s Wally Heider Studio. They probably had dinner together: either somewhere in the city, or en route to Menlo Park, where they then took the stage for the first set of their ongoing Friday evening performances at Butterfield’s, the supper club where Guaraldi’s trio had been in residence since the spring of 1974.

 

“We played to a pretty full house the first set, and it was quite good,” McCain recalled. “The last song we played was ‘Eleanor Rigby,’ and Vince had a nice, exciting version.”

 

After the set concluded, Zimmerman followed Guaraldi into the adjacent Red Cottage Inn, where they had a regular “green room” in which to kick back between sets.

 

“Vince was feeling sick to his stomach,” Zimmerman recalled, speaking with the precision of one who has carried every little detail in his head, during all the intervening years. “He got up, maybe to go to the bathroom … and went down.”

 

And died. That quickly.

 

I cannot imagine the overwhelming grief in that moment, or during the next days, weeks and months, as his family, friends and colleagues mourned his passing. He was a force of nature who could suck all the air out of a room, who delighted in becoming the center of attention. 

 

But I certainly understand the sense of loss — of what his ensuing career could have been — from this distant remove.

 

It also hit me personally, at the time. I was in my third year at UC Davis, already many years into being an avid Guaraldi fan. I knew he performed regularly in the greater San Francisco Bay Area, but — key detail — I didn’t have a car. I figured that didn’t matter; what was the rush? Guaraldi was only 47; surely there was plenty of time.

 

But no.

 

The somber gravity of this day — 50 years later — has been assuaged, to a degree, by the folks at Lee Mendelson Film Productions. Today they’ve debuted two special items.

 

The first is a sweetly edited series of interviews with McCain, Zimmerman, drummer Lee Charlton and Lee Mendelson, sharing their memories of Vince’s passing, and his influence, and the loss to the jazz world. Be warned: It’s quite sad, in spots.

 

The second, however, will bring a smile to your face. Indeed, you just might let out a cheer.

 

I refer you to this earlier post, when I explained what brought Guaraldi, guitarist Bola Sete, bassist Tom Beeson and drummer John Rae to San Francisco’s KQED Channel 9 studios on August 21, 1964, to record a series of short music “fills” that would air at the end of each episode of the imported British series Stories of Guy de Maupassant. Sete did two solo numbers, then joined Guaraldi’s trio for a quartet reading of “Star Song.” That concluded Sete’s participation, after which Guaraldi’s trio played three songs; the session finished when Guaraldi soloed on two takes of “Treat Street.”

 

Thanks to months of negotiations, Lee Mendelson Film Productions was able to obtain permission to share one of the trio numbers.

 

This is the only known video recording of Guaraldi and his trio performing his iconic Peanuts theme, “Linus and Lucy.” And take note of the aforementioned date: August 21, 1964. Months before jazz fans would be able to hear the tune on the album Jazz Impressions of A Boy Named Charlie Brown, and well over a year before the nation at large would hear “Linus and Lucy” while watching A Charlie Brown Christmas.

So: This is both a sad day, and a happy day. Guaraldi still is very much with us, and — as I’ve been saying, during the past few years — some of us are doing our best to ensure that he’ll become an American “evergreen” composer, like George Gershwin and Cole Porter. Heck, why stop there? Assuming Schroeder doesn’t mind, let’s make Vince an American Beethoven.

Blessings to the folks at Lee Mendelson Film Productions!

A memorable piano lesson

As the years have passed, and this blog’s status has risen via Google searches, I’ve occasionally heard from first-time visitors eager to share their long-ago “Guaraldi encounters.”

This is a good one, courtesy of a lovely woman named Peggy Tillman, who — way back in the day — unexpectedly found herself seated alongside Guaraldi, on his piano bench.

 

But that’s getting ahead of things.

 

Sonoma State College — in Rohnert Park, California, just a few minutes south of Santa Rosa — opened to 274 students in the fall of 1961. Because the campus still was far from completed, many of the classrooms and other key activities took place in leased buildings within the city.

 

Peggy transferred into Sonoma State in the fall of 1963, her sophomore year; she remembers the still-gestating state of affairs. “Our ‘library’ was built as a grocery store,” she laughs, “and after we moved out, a few years later, it became a grocery store.”

 

The student body, still quite modest, included a disproportionately large percentage of adults: either working folks looking to secure credits for a long-delayed graduation, or retired individuals with the time to enhance their knowledge. “The joke,” Peggy recalls, “was that the average age of the student body was higher than the average age of the faculty. When school administrators sought input on the creation of a school mascot or symbol, somebody suggested a rocking chair.”

 

Jokes aside, these “returning students” were a challenge. “They were tough competition: far in advance of us, because they had life skills, better study habits, and often were taking only one or two classes, whereas we younger students were taking a full load.”

 

Peggy entered as an education major, with an eye toward teaching, but — as luck would have it — California changed its academic requirements that year, mandating a fifth year of post-graduation instruction in order to obtain a teaching degree. Preferring to graduate in the planned four years, Peggy switched majors and entered the psychology department.

 

Toward the end of her junior year, the campus Concert and Lectures Committee booked the Guaraldi/Bola Sete Quartet for a performance on April 5, 1965. Since Sonoma State did not yet have a performance hall, the gig was scheduled into the nearby Cotati Veterans Memorial Auditorium. Admission was free to students, and $2 for the general public.

By this point, Peggy had become one of the three people who made up the college’s fledgling audio/visual department; thanks to her experience as campus photographer during her high school career, she stepped into that same role for Sonoma State. One of her psychology department professors, Dr. Frank Siroky, was doing research on the body postures of people, as they listened to music; he hired Peggy to take pictures of the audience during the upcoming Guaraldi/Sete concert.

 

(Ah, such innocent times. It’s an intriguing research premise, to be sure, but it’d never fly in today’s hyper-vigilant era of privacy concerns.)

An afternoon of Grace

“Mother never said there might be a day like this.”

First words out of my mouth. Couldn’t help it.

I had just been introduced — and quite warmly — by Grace Cathedral’s Rev. Canon Elizabeth Grundy, and all I could do was look out across the assembled multitude (officially 611 patrons!), and then up-up-up at the way-high ceiling, almost out of view.

Apparently everybody understood, though, because my awe-struck remark drew plenty of sympathetic chuckles.

But I’m getting ahead of things. Let’s start at the beginning.

Constant Companion and I arrived at Grace at about 10:30 Saturday morning; we had left home quite early, not wanting to take any chances with the San Francisco area’s notorious traffic (which, yes, can be ghastly even on weekends). As a result, we were first to arrive, and so killed some time by browsing through the cathedral’s gift shop. I couldn’t help noticing a counter-top rack of CDs that included several copies of Duke Ellington’s Concert of Sacred Music at Grace, recorded live September 16, 1965 ... but no sign of Fantasy’s recording of Guaraldi’s Mass, which had preceded Ellington by four months.

So I wanna know: What’s up with that?

(Ahem.)

We soon were joined by Marcia and Nancy Goodrich, two of the long-ago St. Paul’s Church choir members who, as children, had rehearsed with Guaraldi for roughly 18 months, while his Jazz Mass came together. They were excited, to say the least: positively bubbling with anticipation.

Golden memories of Grace

50 years ago today, Vince Guaraldi and his trio — bassist Tom Beeson, and drummer Lee Charlton — made history when they debuted America's first worship service jazz Mass at San Francisco's Grace Cathedral.

Nor was Guaraldi a mere performer; he also wrote the jazz portions of the Mass, weaving fresh themes around the chanted "Plain Song" setting of the Eucharist's Missa Marialis. This wasn't merely typical jazz improvisation; all involved with this ground-breaking project took the precaution of adapting the Fourth Communion Service setting as a means of blunting criticism from conservatives who worried about bringing "saloon music" — the Devil's music — from the cocktail lounge into the church.

Such fears notwithstanding — and more than a few nasty, even threatening letters were received, prior to May 21, 1965 — Guaraldi's completed Jazz Mass was a resounding success in every possible way.

Which goes to show that God clearly is a jazz fan.

Guaraldi's involvement with the Mass had begun roughly 18 months earlier, when he was approached by a young Reverend named Charles Gompertz. The latter had been charged by his "boss" — the Right Reverend James A. Pike, Bishop of the Episcopal Diocese of California — to come up with a musical event that would suitably honor the then-under-construction Grace Cathedral during its inaugural "Year of Grace" celebrations. This was a very big deal, as Grace was soon to become the first major Anglican cathedral consecrated in the United States.

Gompertz had been drawn to Guaraldi the same way television director/producer Lee Mendelson had decided to select the jazz pianist for what eventually became the wildly successful Peanuts animated franchise: after hearing "Cast Your Fate to the Wind" on the radio. Gompertz and Guaraldi met at the Trident, the former outlining the project and all of its necessary parameters. None of this gave Guaraldi the slightest pause, who quite famously commented — as Gompertz vividly recalls, to this day — "Bach, Brahms and Beethoven all wrote masses ... so why not me?"

The next year and a half was to be quite busy, with Guaraldi rehearsing at least once each week with Barret (Barry) Mineah and his choir at St. Paul's Church in nearby San Rafael. When the big day finally came, the cathedral was filled to overflowing, people known to have driven from as far away as San Luis Obispo. The sermon was delivered by the quite radical Malcolm Boyd, the "coffeehouse priest" who — among his many other Civil Rights activities — had been one of 28 Episcopal priests present during 1961's Freedom Ride from New Orleans.

When it was all over — when Pike, Gompertz, Guaraldi and numerous other clergy members joined an impromptu reception in the vesting area — they began to realize, in Gompertz's words, that they had "done something bigger than all of us."

Indeed.

The resulting media explosion was huge, even by today's standards; Grace, Gompertz and Guaraldi remained in the news throughout the subsequent summer. The companion Fantasy LP was preceded by a 45 single, which undoubtedly raised eyebrows from casual listeners who never expected to hear "Adore Devote (Humbly I Adore Thee" or Guaraldi's "Theme to Grace" on pop and jazz radio stations. The Grace Cathedral staff, at best reluctant during the ramp-up to May 21, couldn't move quickly enough to take advantage of this unexpected success; Duke Ellington was hired to perform in the cathedral on Sept. 16.

Within just a few years, churches became quite popular settings for jazz celebrations, and of course we don't think twice about such things today.

This Golden Jubilee anniversary of Guaraldi's Jazz Mass hasn't gone unnoticed; I'm already reporting on the work being done by Bill Carter, pastor of the First Presbyterian Church of Clarks Summit, Pennsylvania. He and his jazz combo and church choir will deliver an anniversary presentation of Guaraldi's Mass on September 6, as faithful readers of this blog already know.

What you don't know is that another endeavor has just been announced, here on the West Coast.

Northern California-based jazz pianist Jim Martinez is no stranger to Guaraldi's music; by total coincidence, he has a new album of Guaraldi covers and Guaraldi-esque originals coming out in just a few weeks (which I'll discuss at greater length in a future post, when the CD is available for purchase). Meanwhile, Martinez has just gone public with his own plan for a Guaraldi Jazz Mass tribute event.

This will be a concert, not a formal Mass. Thus far, Jim anticipates an opening jazz set by his combo, followed by a short intermission and then a lengthy second half featuring his home-base Fair Oaks Presbyterian Church Choir, with the combo, in a program of themes from Guaraldi's Jazz Mass. The performance also will include some Gospel choir songs and major anthem pieces.

Best of all, as you'll see from the announcement here, this event will take place at no less than Grace Cathedral itself.

And, as an added bonus, the Fair Oaks Presbyterian Church Choir will be joined by a number of folks — now adults — who, as children, were members of the St. Paul Church choir that sang in Grace Cathedral 50 years ago today.

How's that for big news?

Jim and Bill Carter are collaborating on the heavy lifting: the necessary transcription of Guaraldi's music from the Jazz Mass, none of which ever was written down. They're doing it the hard way, by listening to the Fantasy LP and a few other snippets of unreleased recordings. (The original Grace Cathedral Mass ran much, much longer than what we hear on the Fantasy LP; the full majesty of Guaraldi's "Holy Communion Blues" is known to have lasted more than half an hour ... because a lot of people received Communion that evening. Sadly, that full recording is believed lost.)

Additional details will follow, so watch this spot.

It's gonna be a busy summer!