Sonia Modes and Mary Rose Molinaro

The other day, I found a photo of pianist Sonia Modes [no, this is not her; keep reading] in a 1952 Columbus Star, promoting her appearance at the “Top Restaurant.”  Nearly 58 years later, you can still find her working the piano bar at the Top Steakhouse.  A native of Bexley, Sonia began her career as a professional musician in 1950, gigging around Ohio and even venturing as far as Washington, D.C.  However, after she was hired to perform opening night at Benny Klein’s Steak House, she formed a trio to play hotels.  Over the years, you may have caught her act at the Neil House, Desert Inn, The Kahiki, Southern Hotel, Press Club, and Bexley Monk.  She was a member of the first class inducted into the Columbus Senior Musicians Hall of Fame, Inc., in 1996.

Several months earlier, I ran across a CD by vocalist Mary Rose Molinaro on which she was accompanied by Sonia Modes (as well as Steve Samuelson, Jack Knuttila, Jr., and Eugene Beer).  So I picked it up, though I didn’t know a thing about her.  As I learned from the liner notes, “Mary Rose Molinaro was singing before she could talk! Growing up in PA, she and her nine siblings . . . sang as a family, with her father on piano and mother on guitar. . . She currently sings in Columbus, Ohio with an 18-piece Big Band [and] . . . is also known for her many local musical theatre roles as well as TV and Radio jingles and voice-over work.”

Before I had even finished listening to the entire album, You’ll Never Know (as it’s entitled), was already one of my favorite local releases of all time (and I have, literally, several thousand local CDs in my collection).  As you may have gathered from my other blogs, I am a big fan of Broadway-style musicals and have even co-written one (soon to be two).  I would be elated if a singer the caliber of Mary Rose were to appear in one of my shows.  She’s that good.  For example, her cover of “Somewhere That’s Green” is an incredible imitation of Ellen Greene’s original, while her version of “Can’t Help Lovin’ That Man” is so far removed from “Green” that you’d swear it was a different singer entirely.

So if you’re the kind of person who likes this kind of thing, this is the kind of thing you’ll like.  At least, I do.

Izler Solomon Slept Here

It has been more than sixty years since Izler Solomon was fired from the Columbus Philharmonic while en route to Israel to conduct the Israel Symphony Orchestra, yet his name is still magic among many local musicians.  From 1941 to 1949, Solomon served as musical director of The Columbus Philharmonic, the predecessor to The Columbus Symphony Orchestra.  American born and trained, he was a concert violinist by the age of seven and a member of the faculty at Michigan State College in his late ‘teens.  A founding member of the Lansing Civic Orchestra, he became its conductor at 21.  Five years later, he had joined the WPA, for whom he directed the Illinois Symphony, championing American composers and establishing a national reputation for himself.  After three years, he was chosen to be guest conductor of the NBC Orchestra, and soon found himself in demand throughout the country.  It was at this point that he came to Columbus.

Solomon’s impact was immediate and impressive.  In his autobiography (Private I), Howard Rose, a member of the orchestra, wrote, “The local audiences readily accepted him as evidenced by their fullest support.  Through the war years the orchestra functioned on a semi-professional basis.  In 1946, with much help from Local 103 of the Musicians Federation, it became fully professional with a twenty-week season.”  However, Rose went on to say that, “Four years after the war, the nearly-great orchestra that Solomon had developed suddenly collapsed when the angels withdrew their support.  The budget had soared from $180,000 the first season to $248,000 for what would have been the fourth.  Those who were financing the deficit said no, and this fine orchestra folded in the middle of the summer.”

Not surprisingly, Solomon landed on his feet.  He was conductor of the Indianapolis Symphony for some twenty years and also had a career in Hollywood.  From the ashes of the Columbus Philharmonic, the Columbus Little Symphony rose and within a few years evolved into the Columbus Symphony Orchestra.

Last year, I stumbled across a recording of the Philharmonic entitled Tequila.  I will quote from the liner notes:

The COLUMBUS PHILHARMONIC ORCHESTRA, in less than a decade, rose from the status of a semi-professional orchestra to that of one of the ten best professional symphonies in the country.  Much of its recent eminence can be attributed to the leadership of its brilliant young conductor, Izler Solomon.  In particular, it has led in the performance of works by native composers – in 1947 it received Musical America’s second-place award for the percentage of American works played by the nation’s 3 leading orchestras; while, in 1948, it tied for first place.

Apparently, the Philharmonic made several other recordings, but I have not, yet, tracked them down.  One in particular consists of Arthur Schnabel playing Beethoven’s Piano Concerto No. 4 in G Major, Op. 58 and is highly regarded by people who are better judges of such matters than I am.  But what I really would like to find is a transcription of the 1948 radio program in which Solomon recounts the history of the Columbus Philharmonic and concludes by thanking the people of Columbus.

The late, lamented Robert Shaw Institute

When Earl Wild moved to Columbus to become artist-in-residence at Ohio State University, he bought a contemporary house in the northeast suburb of Linworth and named it Fernleaf Abbey.  Fernleaf Abbey became Wild’s base of operations for the next two decades. Wild enjoyed living in central Ohio because it was relatively inexpensive and Port Columbus International Airport was only a few minutes away.  This is why he remained here even after Ohio State did not renew his contract in 1993 for budgetary reasons.

Also falling victim to the budget axe was the Robert Shaw Institute.  Shaw, famous for his work with the Robert Shaw Chorale, was lured to Ohio State by Donald Harris, Dean of the OSU College of the Arts, who arranged funding for an annual summer choral music festival at the university and, also, at Dordogne, France.  Working 12-hour days over a period of several weeks, Shaw would “whip” (figuratively, although he was a stern task-master) his singers into shape and then record an album with them.  There were at least four albums released.

Shaw said he would continue working for free, but then his wife became seriously ill and the institute was disbanded.  (Wild told me he had offered to take a pay cut, himself, but was turned down.)  When I interviewed Wild years later, he seemed more upset that Ohio State had closed the Robert Shaw Institute than that it had ended his own artist-in-residency.  Although Shaw passed away in 1999, Wild continued to teach and give concerts up until 2008.  He had some local students in Columbus and also commuted to Pittsburgh weekly to teach at Carnegie Mellon University.

In September, 1994, Wild was riding in a jeep driven by his business manager when they were struck by a car which ran a stop side.  For 30 minutes, Wild hung upside down in the overturned vehicle while awaiting rescue.  His left arm and shoulder were damaged to such an extent that he was forced to curtail his daily practice sessions from 5 hours to 90 minutes and his concert performances were being hampered by periodic “side jolts.”  So in 1997, Wild sued for $1 million in damages.  A forensic economist testified that he would lose more than $437,000 in income because of the accident, in addition to his customary $25,000 concert fees.  At the time, he had no new bookings.  In perhaps one of the most unusual trials in Franklin County history, Wild gave an impromptu five-minute concert on a 9-foot grand piano.  He was subsequently awarded $619,830 by the jury – certainly a personal recorded for one performance.

The following year, Wild and Michael Rolland Davis, his long-time companion, put together the not-for-profit Ivory Classics Foundation (www.ivoryclassics.com) as a vehicle for re-releasing many of Wild’s own albums, as well as those of many other artists whose recordings might not otherwise be available.  The quality of these re-issues is unparalleled.

Note:  David C. from the United Kingdom asked me to go into more detail on my conversation with Earl Wild.  I hope this satisfies him until Carnegie Mellon Press releases Wild’s memoirs later this year.

Goodbye, Earl

On January 23, 2010, Earl Wild, the great classical pianist, died.  He was 94.  A long time resident of Columbus, he moved to Palm Springs, California, a few years ago – not to retire, but to continue his remarkable career in a more comfortable clime.

In 2001, I had the privilege to spend a pleasant afternoon with Wild in his home where he recorded his Grammy-winning album, The Romantic Master (which, as far as I can determine, was the first Grammy won by someone residing in the Columbus area).  I was there to present him with a certificate signifying his induction into The Columbus Senior Musicians Hall of Fame, Inc.  Given all of the honors he received over his lengthy career, I didn’t even know if he would acknowledge it, but he was quite gracious.  I felt it was important for us to recognize him as a member of our musical community, particularly since, in my opinion, he was frequently overlooked.  We discussed that and many other subjects in our free-ranging conversation, but I won’t go into that, now.  Rather, I want to delve into his “other” career.

For example, Wild played the organ on John Zacherley’s television show in NYC for several years.  Zacherely was the “cool ghoul” who hosted late night monster movies and had several regional hit records such as “Dinner With Drac” and “Zacherely For President.”   Wild remembers him as a smart and fun, but eccentric individual who once sent all the network executives mounted chicken feet as Christmas gifts.  I think the fact that Wild had an appreciation for Zacherley’s skewed sense of humor says a lot about the man who has been described as  a “super-virtuoso in the Horowitz class.”

Wild also looked back fondly on the four years he spent as a studio musician for Sid Caesar’s television show.  He told me Caesar was one of the kindest and dearest people he ever met.  Caesar valued the pianist’s ability to improvise any type or style of music they needed for the show, from jazz to opera.  Not surprisingly, Wild also held the late Imogene Coca in high regard, but couldn’t stand Mel Brooks.  He described him as rude, obnoxious, and unbelievably crude.  According to Wild, many people quit the show because of Brooks, but Caesar stood by him for some reason he couldn’t fathom.

One of Wild’s disappointments was that the Columbus Symphony Orchestra never showed any real interest in having him perform with them.  He told me Alessandro Siciliani wanted him to play something “special” — a piece that was not part of his regular repertoire — which would not have made any sense from a financial standpoint.  If Wild invested the time to learn a particular piece, he had to be able to perform it several times during the year.

One of the many funny anecdotes told about Wild is that he claimed to have become an atheist at the age of 10 when he asked his mother how there could be a God when the organist at their local church (in his hometown of Pittsburgh) was so lousy!

I decided to call this post “Goodbye, Earl” so people searching for the Dixie Chicks song might stumble across it.  I thought Wild, who once referred to Lang Lang, a rising star in classical circles, as the “J-Lo of the piano,” would appreciate it.

Chuz Duz

Chuz Alfred has always considered himself a jazzman, but when he was starting out Ozzie Cadena, the A&R man for Savoy Records, apparently had other ideas.  Consequently, the Chuz Alfred Combo (as they were billed) wound up recording “Buckeye Bounce” backed with “Caravan” for their first single and “Rock Along” backed with “Rockin’ Boy” for their second.  The last was the lead off track on the 1955 compilation album, Rock ‘n’ Roll, released on Herman Lubinsky’s Regent label (Lubinsky also founded Savoy).

Because Chuz and the boys were lumped together on this album with Hal Singer, Paul Williams, T.J. Fowler, and other, presumably, African-American musicians, he continues to be regarded by some as one of a long line of black tenor sax players. In a July, 1955, Billboard ad headlined  “Congrats from Savoy!”,  the Chuz Alfred Combo is pictured along with ten black groups/performers (among them Columbus’s Larry Darnell).

Locally, promoters liked to pit Chuz against the other hot tenor players in town, including Rusty Bryant.  In fact, Chuz and Rusty came close to co-leading a band, but Rusty backed out at the last minute.  All that survives of that venture are some publicity photos.

When Chuz subsequently went to Newark, NJ, to pick up payment for the “Rockin’ Boy” 45, he mentioned to Ozzie that the band preferred to play jazz and invited him to hear the band at Goldfarb Studio which he had rented for rehearsals.  Surprisingly, Ozzie did drop by unexpectedly at the end of a late night rehearsal session, but left without saying a word.  Chuz figured they had blown their chance, but the next day Ozzie called to say he had booked time in a recording studio.

Chuz, Ola Hanson, and Chuck Lee promptly reported to Rudy Van Gelder’s studio in Hackensack, only to learn they would have to make up some original tunes on the spot because Savoy would not pay royalties to ASCAP or BMI. Other than “Chuz Duz,” a song written by a friend which they had never played, everything else was created during the three-hour session with only one take of each tune and no overdubs.  The result was released on Savoy as Jazz Young Blood, a respectable effort that was re-released on CD in 1993.  However, tracks from his first two singles have been included on the compilation CDs Bump, Jump, Jive Volume Nine, Big Apple Boogie, and Boogie On Broadway.