Cadenzas – Edition XXV
Fast Track - "One More Time!"
I hope once more to pique your interest in Jack Cortner’s CD, Fast Track. The response to Fast Track has been wonderful, and the CD continues to be reviewed by the significant journals and Web sites – JazzImprov Magazine, JazzTimes, Cadence, AllAboutJazz.com, Big Bands International (UK), the Jazz Education Journal and others. Every reviewer has written of the excellence of Jack’s writing, the band’s swinging performances, and the excitement the soloists create. Several also mention the terrific sound quality of the CD as well. You can see these reviews at:
http://www.marvinstamm.com/FastTrackReviews.html.
The reviewer for JazzTimes closes his review by stating, “It is hard to make this judgment after having this recording for only a week, but I think I may have just found my new favorite big band.” Herb Wong, in the most recent issue of the Jazz Education Journal, has given Fast Track his “Blue Chip Award” as one of his top instrumental picks of 2006. Peter Green of Big Bands International says, “This CD is a must for lovers of swinging big band sounds. One for the collection."
The airplay for Fast Track has also been excellent, and last week the CD made it onto JazzWeek.com’s Jazz Album Chart, which is indicative of the national airplay the CD is receiving. And Denver’s Jazz station, KUVO, has made Fast Track its “CD of the Month.” Not bad for a guy who is basically an unknown personality in the “Jazz Industry.” Certainly, there has to be a good reason for all this attention.
I know that many of you are big band fans, and, even if you are not, you are missing something if you haven’t checked out this CD. Jack is a talent to be reckoned with, something I have known for forty years, and I am proud and honored to be a significant part of this album. Anyone who knows me also knows I don't go around "hawking my wares" - nor anyone else's - but if you love good music from the pen of a great writer, performed by one fantastic band, you can't help but love this CD.
This CD is available from my CD page, as well as from JazzedMedia.com, and from online sites like Amazon.com, and in the stores. Wherever you might choose to buy it is fine with me. Though Fast Track is available from my Web site, I take nothing from the sales. Producing a CD such is this is a very expensive proposition, therefore every cent from sales from my site goes back to Jack. Jack is just too modest to put up his own Web page even though I have urged him to do so. Therefore, I am doing it for him. I am hoping that all the response he has gotten - plus excellent sales as well - will encourage him to write and produce a second CD.
Burt Collins - Two Remembrances
By Marvin Stamm
Trumpeter Burt Collins passed away recently in New York City at the age of seventy-five. Many of you will not recognize Burt’s name unless you are within ten years, more or less, of my age or have heard a number of the fine Jazz recordings he played on during the ‘60s and ‘70s. Burt was an excellent trumpet player and a fine lyrical Jazz artist. He was also a fine lead player and an excellent section player. Other trumpeters liked working with Burt in the section because he was always a “team player.” Burt was well known in the New York musical community, but because of the number of years he spent as a studio musician, he was never widely recognized for the fine Jazz player he was.
Burt was very busy in the New York studios at the time I moved to New York. He was making recordings with composers Johnny Richards, Manny Albam, Oliver Nelson, Quincy Jones and others, as well as recording a variety of documentary films and numerous commercials. I met Burt shortly after my arrival in late 1966, and we took an instant liking to one another, enjoying each other’s style of playing. I believe our first meeting might have been when we recorded an album with composer Johnny Richards, Aqui Se Habla Español. I worked with Johnny Richards during my two years as Stan Kenton’s Jazz trumpet soloist, and we also taught together for several summers at the Stan Kenton Clinics. Burt had recorded one or two prior albums with Johnny’s New York orchestra.
I have always said that my career in New York was made in certain respects by the trumpet community there. Most of the busy New York musicians were quite generous in recommending new arrivals into town whose playing they heard and liked. The prevalent feeling of the time was, in the words of the great lead trumpeter Bernie Glow, “If I recommend someone for work that I enjoy playing with, the likelihood is that I will have more players of that quality sitting next to me whenever I go to work.” And unlike today, there was a lot of work in New York at that time, so most of the busy musicians were not afraid that they would lose playing opportunities to those whom they recommended. There was plenty to go around! Burt was very kind in recommending me for work, as were trumpeters Ernie Royal, Bernie Glow, Snooky Young, Markie Markowitz, and Thad Jones, among others.
Trombonist Garnett Brown and I were talking recently about Burt when I called to tell him of Burt’s passing. Burt had helped both Garnett and me to establish our careers in the New York studios. The three of us also became fast friends and spent many weekend evenings at Burt’s place enjoying music, good food, and friendship. During my first five years in town, we spent a great deal of time playing and “hanging out” together.
Garnett, like me, is from Memphis, and we met briefly during my extremely short time on Lionel Hampton’s band in 1963 (four days - but that’s a story for another time). Before his move to Los Angeles in the early 1970s, Garnett and I also spent a number of years together on the Thad Jones/Mel Lewis Jazz Orchestra. When composer/arranger/pianist Duke Pearson decided to establish his big band around 1967 or 1968, Garnett and I were chosen to be in the brass section along with Burt, trombonists Julian Priester and Benny Powell, and trumpeters Randy Brecker and Joe Shepley. It was a wonderful brass section that stayed together during the four plus years of the band’s existence. We also did a lot of outside work together in various bands and on many recordings.
Eventually Garnett, his wife Anna, and their daughters moved to the West Coast, and as the business changed over time, Burt and I ended up being involved in different areas of the business. I continued to work in the studios until about 1990, and Burt moved into the Broadway pit. Personal circumstances changed as well - I got married and eventually moved to my current residence in the country, and Burt was divorced and then remarried again. We just didn’t run or work in the same circles anymore – one of the factors of the music business that seems to dictate socializing. I did know that Burt was a member of saxophonist Lee Konitz’ tentet and also played in the Dave Matthews Big Band. I also knew that he played a number of Broadway shows, but because I was beginning my new endeavor as a full-time Jazz musician, I wasn’t closely in touch with what was going on in New York City.
I was in touch with Burt several times during the past few years, discussing the possibility that composer/saxophonist Bob Belden might get the Duke Pearson Big Band together again for a few gigs, but this unfortunately never materialized. And though we talked several times after that, I am sad to say, circumstances prevented our seeing each other again.Burt Collins was a fine musician and an excellent Jazz player. He was a good person who I can only wish had had the same opportunity to get out in front of Jazz audiences in his post-studio years as have I, but that didn’t happen. Anyone who might have had the opportunity to hear him would have loved his music.
I’ll recount one personal experience relating to Burt’s music. When we were with Duke Pearson’s band, Duke wrote an arrangement on one of his original tunes to feature Burt. “New Girl” and Burt’s solo on this tune are Jazz classics, to which anyone who has ever heard the recording will attest. Sometime back – after Duke became ill, or maybe shortly after he passed away - I was asked to come to Atlanta, Duke’s hometown, to record several of his arrangements with the Georgia State University Jazz Ensemble. “New Girl” was one of the compositions they wanted to record. I found it to be an amazingly difficult task to produce what I felt was a meaningful solo, probably because all I kept hearing was Burt’s sound and the solo he played on this piece. No matter what I did, I was left with an incomplete feeling, totally unfulfilled by my own work. Burt had played this most perfect solo on “New Girl,” and no one could ever achieve what he had done with this piece. There is no greater testament to one’s music.
Burt Collins (1932–2007) a wonderful musician with a huge Jazz soul. Rest in peace, Burt, and know that those of us who heard your music will not forget.
“Burt Collins, Best Man!”
By Garnett Brown
Garnett Brown was one of the founding members of the Thad Jones/Mel Lewis Jazz Orchestra. He and I worked together for a number of years with the Jones/Lewis Orchestra, the Duke Pearson Big Band and on many studio dates. Garnett, along with Urbie Green and Jimmy Cleveland, were the trombone section on my first New York album, Machinations, written by composer Johnny Carisi. Garnett, also a Memphian, has performed and recorded with Herbie Hancock, Quincy Jones, Billy Taylor, Chick Corea, Freddie Hubbard, Dizzy Gillespie and many others. He studied film scoring at UCLA and has composed, coordinated, and conducted for a number of films. He is prominently recognized in many areas of music and music production.
I’ve been a resident of Los Angeles, California, since mid-July of 1975. Prior to that time, I was a New Yorker for thirteen years, twelve of which provided the opportunity to have met and developed a most rewarding musical and familial-type relationship with Burt and his first wife, Ann. Burt and I met at one of the many rehearsal band experiences that were currently proliferating. As time went by, we found ourselves running into each another at a variety of other music venues, which precipitated the emergence of a substantive relationship. Interestingly enough, however, two of the most significant events that occurred, involving the two of us, were not seminally related to music.
On December 7, 1967, my fiancée Anna and I were married, and Burt and Ann stood up for us: “Burt Collins, Best Man – Ann Collins, Matron of Honor!”
Approximately five years earlier, Burt and Ann had virtually opened up their home to us. We were invited to gatherings that ranged from formal affairs to unexpected drop-ins. They always welcomed us with warmth and congeniality. That welcoming atmosphere was invariably permeated with conviviality of the best kind.
Second, Burt and I were members of the Sal Salvador Band when the band was booked to play an engagement in an obscure town in Kentucky. During a break at one of the band’s rehearsals, someone asked whether or not the appearance of an integrated band (compliments of me) would challenge the social consciousness of the people in a small Kentucky town. After all, this was 1963. In response to that query, trumpet player Jerry Kail quickly quipped, “If they don’t look too closely, they’ll never notice.” Well, we all roared with laughter. Witticisms created from a sense of truth seem to have that effect, I guess.
Two weeks later, after the band arrived at the venue and finished setting up, some of us went to a restaurant and sat down for service. All of a sudden, an officious-looking person came to our table and firmly said, “We won’t serve ya’ll cause-za him,” while pointing at me. I retorted with quiet sarcasm. “Who, me?” Burt stood up, and in a reverberating tone issued the imperative, “Let’s get out of this place!” as he led our exodus.
“Burt Collins, Best Man!”
We were served in another restaurant, however, and no problems arose at the gig. I guess Jerry Kail was right.
While I pursued efforts to become more established on the New York music scene, Burt took me to several recording sessions he had been called for. Two of them had special significance for me because of the contribution he brought to those sessions and the introductory value they afforded me.
One session for Mercury Records featured Rahsaan Roland Kirk. The album was eventually entitled Roland Kirk Meets the Benny Golson Orchestra. During the session, I learned how important it is to bring not only high musicality to the job, but also a creative and congenial spirit, all of which Burt demonstrated. The session included such stellar musicians as Richard Davis, Sir Roland Hanna, Richard Williams, and others.
Burt was prominently featured on another session entitled The Soul of the City, for Solid State Records, that showcased music by Manny Albam. On his solos and section work, Burt demonstrated his high musicality, creativity, and joyous spirit in service to Manny’s music. The band consisted of other venerable musicians that included Ernie Royal, J. J. Johnson, Phil Woods, Hank Jones, Frank Wess, Freddie Hubbard, Jerome Richardson, Richard Davis, and others.
“Burt Collins, Best Man!” Of the many varied recordings and live performances Burt logged, I’ll note a few in closing:
1. & 2. Collins/Shepley Galaxy - Lennon/McCartney Live and Time, Space, and the Blues, both on MTA Records. Participating musicians included Joe Shepley, Herbie Hancock, Jerry Dodgion, Garnett Brown, Bernie Glow, Bob Cranshaw, Mike Abene, Mickey Roker, Burt Collins.
3. Marvin Stamm - Machinations, Verve Records - composed and arranged by Johnny Carisi. Participating musicians included Joe Shepley, Jimmy Cleveland, Jerome Richardson, Bernie Glow, Ernie Royal, Garnett Brown, George Young, Dick Hyman, Joe Beck, Burt Collins.
4. & 5. Johnny Richards Orchestra - Aqui Se Habla Español, Roulette Records, and A Double Header with Arthur Prysock, Old Town Records. Participating musicians included Johnny Knapp, Chino Pozo, Ray Copeland, Wayne Andre, Cliff Jordan, Marvin Stamm, Jerry Kail, Bill Watrous, Ray Starling, Garnett Brown, Joel Kaye, Ronnie Bedford, Burt Collins.
6. Dave Matthews - Dune. Participating musicians included Steve Gadd, Wayne Andre, Randy Brecker, Tom Malone, Dave Sanborn, Jon Faddis, Eric Gale, Grover Washington, Jr., Lew Soloff, Joe Shepley, Dave Taylor, Hiram Bullock, Lew Del Gatto, Sam Burtis, Jerry Chamberlain, Burt Collins.
7. & 8. Duke Pearson - Introducing The Duke Pearson Big Band and Now Hear This, both on Blue Note Records. Participating musicians included Frank Foster, Marvin Stamm, Pepper Adams, Bob Cranshaw, Randy Brecker, Julian Priester, Jerry Dodgion, Garnett Brown, Mickey Roker, Joe Shepley, Lew Tabackin, Benny Powell, Kenny Rupp, Burt Collins.
9. Duke Pearson Big Band. Participating musicians included Donald Byrd, Coleridge Perkinson, Johnny Coles, George Coleman, Julian Priester, James Spaulding, Bob Cranshaw, Pepper Adams, Garnett Brown, Blue Mitchell, Harold Vick, Mickey Roker, Virgil Jones, Jack Gale, Burt Collins.
10. Ron Roullier, New York Jazz Repertory Orchestra. Participating musicians included Joe Benjamin, Don Butterfield, Frank Wess, Phil Sunkel, Wayne Andre, Ed Shaughnessy, Garnett Brown, Dave Gale, Dick Hafer, Morty Lewis, Tony Studd, Danny Bank, Johnny Frosk, Alan Raph, Sam Marowitz, Billy Byers, Johnny Carisi, Burt Collins.
11. Willie Bobo Septet. Participating musicians included Larry Gales, Chick Corea, Joe Farrell, Potato Valdez, Garnett Brown, Burt Collins.
I regret that I did not maintain closer contact with Burt after I moved to the West Coast. But even so, there was always an indelible thread of connection that followed those early years when we had a vibrant relationship, years which continue to be cherishably memorable.
Mr. Armstrong and Me
I met Mr. Armstrong, not in NYC in the late '60s or early '70s at the famous “It's A Wonderful World” recording session, but actually in 1965 when I was working in show bands in Reno, Nevada. I played his show one evening with the “relief band” - the orchestra that performed the shows on every house band's night off. In many instances, we would come into the showroom in the afternoon, talk over the show, and then sight-read the performances.
We played two shows that evening with Mr. Armstrong, and in the time between shows, I happened to walk by his open dressing room door. He was sitting in there alone, handkerchief on his head. When I stuck my head in to tell him what an honor it was to play behind him, he said, “Come on in, Pops.” I went in thinking I would visit for only a moment with my hero, and then leave him to have some private time. As each of the other band members passed the dressing room door, seeing me in there with Mr. Armstrong, they were invited to share the experience. We all stayed to visit with him the whole period between shows. This man was a very warm and inviting human being. He possessed a lot of love for people of all ethnic and national backgrounds. The only things he seemed unable to tolerate were hate and discrimination - no matter from whom nor where it might emanate - white, black, purple, or otherwise.
That was my one encounter with this marvelous gentleman. But a few years ago, I received an email from someone asking me how it felt to play with Mr. Armstrong on the recording of “It's A Wonderful World.” When I replied that I wasn't on that recording, and he wrote back that I was listed as a member of the studio orchestra, I realized what probably had happened. We must have recorded the orchestra tracks one day, and then Mr. Armstrong came in later to do the vocal. We probably didn't even know who the recording was for; that happened sometimes. I do know that the recording was released only a few years after my meeting with Mr. Armstrong in Reno, and if he had been in the studio, I would have gone over to reintroduce myself to him and say hello. In fact, if he had been in the studio, I am sure HE would have come over to all the trumpet players to greet us. He was that kind of person.
Though my association with Mr. Armstrong was very brief, to a young person like me, it was quite significant because it illustrated much about the man. Mr. Armstrong was not only a great musician and entertainer; he was also a great human being who garnered love and respect wherever he went. THIS was a very special man!
“When I Was Your Age. . . .”
By Mike Metheny
Mike Metheny is a marvelous trumpet/flugelhorn soloist. A native of Missouri, he holds both a bachelor and masters degree in Music Education. Mike was a member of the U.S. Army Field Band in Washington, D.C., and later a faculty member at Boston's Berklee College of Music. While in Boston, he led his own quartet, appearing in numerous club, concert and festival settings across New England and the U.S. In addition to appearing on numerous jazz recordings as a sideman, Mike has released eight solo albums and is one of the few trumpeters to regularly perform on the EVI (Electronic Valve Instrument). Today, Mike is a freelance performer and music journalist in the Kansas City area; he was also the editor of Kansas City's Jazz Ambassador Magazine (JAM), a position he held for nine years. Mike and I have shared the stage several times, always a source of great pleasure to me as we share so many musical values. You may learn more about Mike and check out his musical contributions at www.mikemetheny.com.
At a recent clinic-workshop with a high school jazz band, I heard myself speak the following words: “When I was your age. . . .”
It was a first. And it was followed by a slow-motion out-of-body moment. Not only had I officially become my parents, but there was the sheer amount of time that had passed - 40 years - since I really was their age. (And yes, it does go by fast.)
The context that day involved the venerable axiom, “a picture is worth a thousand words.” It's important to have good teachers, I was heard to say, but another integral part of the learning process is listening to the jazz masters, both on recording and, if possible, live. And so. . . .
“When I was your age, you could actually hear, in person, living big band greats like Duke Ellington, Count Basie, Woody Herman, Stan Kenton and Buddy Rich. Many of the small group legends were still alive and active, too. Miles, Chet, Cannonball, Paul Desmond, Bill Evans, Art Blakey. . . .”
But as I spoke I realized many of these kids - talented and eager as they might have been - were born in the early 1990s. And unless they had a hip band director (or parents, or peers), they might be playing “big band jazz” in school, but the playlist on their iPods was a different story.
“How many of you have listened to the music of Charlie Parker or John Coltrane?” I asked, continuing to press my luck. And there was an encouraging scatter of hands. But with “How about Kenny G?” the response doubled, as did my need for another cup of coffee. (It was too early for a pitcher of beer.) True, I should have known better than to even go there.
There is also the matter of opportunity, now mostly extinct, for today's new jazz musicians to eventually perform with a mentoring icon like Buddy or Blakey. It doesn't seem like that long ago when a precocious youngster could pursue his or her dreams at Berklee or North Texas, then aspire to move on to the road with a name band (case in point: the esteemed host of this Web site, who joined Kenton right out of college). Today's pipelines can lead to a cruise ship, a teaching gig, a “ghost band,” or Branson. But, that's another lament for another time.
“Always play (or teach) to the one person in the room who gets it,” my outstanding high school band director Keith House used to remind us (yes, 40 years ago). And at most of my clinic sessions over the years I've usually been able to find that one knowing set of eyes. But there still can be that feeling of exercising futility when dropping the names of yesterday's idols to today's vacant stares. Add to it a culture that thinks of Mr. G as a jazz musician, not to mention all the other warning signs of a society in decline (there I go again, sounding like my parents), and promoting a sublime art form like jazz can be analogous to (quoting a witty Kansas City friend) “pissing into the wind for distance.”
Yet, in the name of keeping this great music alive, we forge on, do our best to pass the torch, and hope the wind is to our backs.
After all, the legends you and I grew up admiring were once school kids, too. And all it took was the right role model - or recording, or live performance - to light the fire and launch a life-long journey.
Of course, then comes the ongoing conundrum of finding a large enough audience to support the trip.
But that too is another cup of coffee. Or pitcher of beer.
Speaking Out
Someone asked me in a recent email why I sometimes chide my Cadenzas readers about responding to things I write. I presume that this person’s thought was that I alienated some of my readers by urging them to express their views. I guess this is possible, but I don’t see the issue in this light.
Most of the people on my Cadenzas email list are friends, acquaintances, associates, or others who have at one time or another expressed a desire to read what I write. I assume that they know I will speak my mind. All of them are intelligent, thinking people who have the ability to reason and come to their own conclusions about my writings. I also welcome readers to express their thoughts - whether they agree with me or not - because I enjoin them to become involved in the dialogue. Participation in a dialogue about those things we cherish in our lives and in our country carries the potential to motivate us to do those things that makes life in this country better for all.
I know that most of my readers, like many other people today, are busy in their own daily lives with career, family, and other obligations that fully occupy their time. I certainly understand that people are busier today merely trying to keep things together and make ends meet than they were forty years ago. But I also believe that something else has occurred over time that has caused people to be reluctant to talk or speak out about the many things that affect their lives. I don’t need to be reminded that I have touched on this subject before, but because I believe so deeply in the principles upon which this country was founded, freedom of expression being so vitally important, I am moved to write this article.
When I talk about what I believe foreshadows the demise of the state of education, I want to hear what others also think about this subject. I am willing to listen. Whether they agree with me or not is irrelevant; what is important is for us to have an open discussion toward a goal of mutual education. By expressing our individual views, we all learn from each other and from the process. A reluctance to express oneself for any number of reasons is fine as long as those reasons don’t include fear of a backlash, or intimidation, or loss of employment for verbalizing personal beliefs. Wars have been fought and people have died to prevent our citizens from living in fear of speaking freely.
But too many people do fear speaking out, sometimes in the simplest situations. Here is an example on a very shallow level: About five years ago, I was returning to New York from San Francisco and, upon arriving at the airport, I found that, without my having been notified, my flight had been changed. My new flight was to leave in about fifty minutes, so I didn’t have a great deal of time to spare before re-booking and boarding my flight, the last one to the East Coast that day.
I got in line to change my ticket, and, though it was noon, there were only two people tending the service desk. At that moment, both agents were already serving customers, while in front of me seven or eight people were waiting their turn. Maybe fifteen minutes passed and the same two customers were still at the desk, leaving the rest of us worrying that we would not be able to make our flight. By this time, another twelve or more people had gathered in line behind me, also trying to be ticketed. And after all that, we would still have to go through security and get to the gate before being able to board the plane.
When a man in a red jacket walked toward the desk, I asked if he was a supervisor. He said, “Yes,” so I asked in a moderate but firm tone, “Do you see all these people waiting to check in for the flight that leaves in thirty minutes? Don’t you think it might be a good idea to get some more people out here to help with the ticketing so we can get to our plane that leaves soon?” I expected others in line to speak up and confirm our needing to re-book our flights, but I was to be disappointed. Instead, people both in front and in back of me moved away about five feet – as though I were a nutcase rather than someone who had just spoken up for everyone.
The upshot of all this was that the supervisor, after moving behind the ticket desk, called me out of line to issue my new ticket, and I got to my flight in time. I have no idea if others in line were as fortunate. This was one of many times that I have spoken for the benefit of a group only to find that I was standing alone. I can only surmise that some people are afraid to take a position and give vent to their concerns, even when their own welfare or well-being is at issue.
Why are too many people so reluctant to speak out – that is, to express themselves freely and honestly? Is it that they are just afraid to call attention to themselves? Possibly. But it’s more than that. It seems to me that a large percentage of the populace always waits for someone else to speak on their behalf, to “make things better.” These people naively expect positive results without their ever having to make an effort or take a risk. Maybe if people were more forthright and honest, expressing what they truly feel, all of us would face fewer social problems today - the decline of our education systems, lack of quality employment, the crisis in our healthcare system, corporate and governmental greed and corruption, and myriad other issues. The fact is – no one is going to safeguard our welfare or well-being but “we the people.” This is our life, our country, and our government, and, if we choose to be a part of it, then we all must stand on our individual AND collective feet.
In 1966, I experienced what it was to like to be among a society that is exactly opposite to ours. I toured behind the Iron Curtain with Woody Herman’s band to Rumania and Yugoslavia and witnessed what it was like to live in a country where people lived in constant fear, their lives totally controlled by the government. On the streets in Bucharest, I observed everyone walking slowly, their heads down, afraid to make eye contact with others. I saw clearly what living one’s daily life in fear could do to a people. I remember the evenings that members of the Bucharest Radio Orchestra came to our concert and afterwards joined us for a drink and some food in the hotel dining room. When we talked about music or any other subject, they leaned down close to the table and whispered for fear that their voices were being recorded. I invited one or two of the trumpet players to come to my room for a drink, and, in frightened voices, they refused because they said they were sure our rooms were “bugged.” This is real fear, a palpable fear that these people suffered every moment of their lives.
Having written this, I ask myself, do I think the scenario I have just laid out suggests where we might be headed in our country? While Americans are not now the victims of anything like the folks behind the Iron Curtain in 1966, I do fear we are leaning in that direction. Are things really so different today than forty years ago? Yes, I see alarming evidence in the United States. Too many people fail to accept responsibility for what happens to them; they increasingly let others take control. Most of this behavior results from laziness or lack of intellectual interest. Otherwise, how can one explain that more people vote on “American Idol” than in our national elections? Or that we have allowed our government, out of fear, to take away certain of our civil liberties.
These changes are insidious, and most people either don’t see them or are very slow to recognize them. Others wallow in a misguided state of denial. But the warning signs are there nonetheless. Articles written in the past few years speak to the fears of some former citizens of Germany in the 1930s over what they see taking place here. They recognize the signs: laws like the Patriot Act, wherein the government can designate someone a suspected terrorist and confine that person to prison without a trial or access to attorneys or the courts; the ability of the government to look into our library, credit, or medical records without a court order or warrant; warrantless wiretaps; and the suspension of the cornerstone of legal justice system dating back to the Magna Carta – the Writ of Habeas Corpus.
When people hesitate to speak out about major infringements on their civil liberties or how others may be trying to force their way of life upon the rest of us, how can I possibly expect them to take seriously my asking that they make known their feelings on topics such as music, education, culture, and the Arts? The thought seems ludicrous to me - but, in my own ludicrous way, I do expect people to be concerned about these valuable aspects of life because this is America to me, and I don’t want us to lose our basic foundations of civility.
So, the question remains: Are people really afraid to speak out or do they just not care? I don’t pretend to be able to answer for everyone, but I can speak to what I observe. Several people indicated to me that they were unable to write in response to controversial issues I raised about education and music education unless doing so anonymously. They believe their jobs or positions in their communities might be jeopardized if unpopular or controversial commentary were read by members of their communities who disagree with their position. Cadenzas is not a journal that goes beyond this list, except maybe to a few others to whom members of this list might forward the newsletter. Yet, even on a level such as this, some people fear expressing their feelings in print because of possible backlash.
Do I understand their fears? Of course, I do. If they seriously feel that they might be endangered by speaking openly of these things, then it is their reality, one that they must live with. But this is the shame of it: In this country, wherein our government is trying to “spread democracy and freedom” to others around the world, our own civil rights are in jeopardy right here at home. If this sounds unpatriotic, then I can only paraphrase our founding fathers who were adamant that we keep a watchful eye and never trust the government. And as Ben Franklin said about trading freedom for security, “They that can give up essential liberty to obtain a little temporary safety deserve neither liberty nor safety.”