A shared moment can last a lifetime

Sometimes, not often enough, I remember to ask professional and semi-professional musicians why they play their respective musical instruments.

To the friend who plays with the Bangor Symphony Orchestra, “Why the clarinet?”

The woman playing background Christmas music in Portland’s Victoria Mansion, “Why the harp?”

And a violinist in Dave Mallett’s band, “Why the violin?”

Think about that. Of all the musical instruments in the world, the pro- and semi-pro musicians I’ve met devote their time and energy to just one. Oh, they may play more than one instrument. Piano, for example. Reed players may play a few reed instruments. String players may play a few string instruments.

But in my experience, pro- and semi-pro musicians favor one instrument over all others. And every time I’ve asked musicians why they play the instrument they do, I’ve never gotten the profound answers I hoped for. The answers have usually been along these lines: “There was a violin in the house when I was growing up. When I first thought I’d like to play a musical instrument, that was the musical instrument we had.”

But once in a Japanese restaurant with drummer Levon Helm, Levon spoke of the great drummer, Joe Morello, as playing the drumset with the sensitivity of Jascha Heifitz playing the violin.

Levon’s observation about Joe Morello was profound in this way: When I first met and interviewed Morello in March 1978 and asked him, Why drums?, Morello said, as a kid, he was studying violin. Then Morello heard Jascha Heifitz play, got discouraged, quit studying violin, and began studying drums. Morello, who was legally blind, said his “old man” gave him bad eyes, but a great pair of ears.

It is impossible, I suppose, for many (most?) people to appreciate the artistic level at which Joe Morello performed on the drums. Best known as a member of the popular Dave Brubeck Quartet, Morello — who died at age 82 in 2011 — is simply one of the greatest drummers ever.

And those of us who play drums, I think, have an even better appreciation of how unique and demanding Morello’s artistry truly was.

I am among the generations of drum writers who knew many of the great drummers. As a younger man, I welcomed every chance to speak with, or read stories by, people who knew my musical heroes. In the same way, I hear from drummers curious about Joe Morello and other drummers I knew who are no longer alive.

My recollections are moreso about drummers as human beings first.

One evening in New Jersey Joe and his wife, Jean, were visiting at the home of friends. I was there too, but don’t remember why. What I do remember, are the three concrete steps down to the walkway from the Morellos’ friends’ home front door. Joe had a wee bit too much to drink. Enough to make him unsteady.

As we were leaving, approaching that first step down, Joe took my arm for support, and held it down the steps and walkway — asking me the whole time how close was the next step, how far down would he have to step — until we reached the Morellos’ car.

For me, a 30-something drummer/writer — that was a powerful few moments: the contrast in Joe who could find his way around a drumset with blistering speed, with Joe who couldn’t find his way down three steps. His grace and utter selflessness in just taking my arm. And the honor I felt – and still feel – that he trusted me enough to choose my arm at that moment still brings tears to my eyes.

Scott K. Fish has served as a communications staffer for Maine Senate and House Republican caucuses, and was communications director for Senate President Kevin Raye. He founded and edited AsMaineGoes.com and served as director of communications/public relations for Maine’s Department of Corrections until 2015. He is now using his communications skills to serve clients in the private sector.