A Lenten Devotion by Willie Sordillo
The teaching of the wise is a fountain of life, turning a person from the snares of death.
Proverbs 13:14
Many of the elders I’ve looked up to, learned from, and in a sense, been mentored by are people I’ve never met- people who I’ve known only through their music or writing. Part of the power and beauty of music is the way in which it captures an intimate feeling so perfectly that it speaks to the listener as if describing one’s own experience. And great writing often feels like the author is speaking directly to the reader. In both cases, those of us on the receiving end can feel like we know the author of those words and sounds in deep and meaningful ways, though we’ve never met, and we share that feeling with thousands or even millions of others.
I was introduced to the Dave Brubeck Quartet through their recordings as a 15 year old sophomore in high school. Their music moved me profoundly, and I was especially attracted to two things: the playing of their brilliant, iconic alto saxophonist, Paul Desmond, and the telepathic bond between Dave and Paul. The more I learned about them, the more I admired them. Brubeck was a pioneer in breaking down the barriers of segregation in the jazz world, being one of the first white musicians to include an African American in his quartet, a bassist named Eugene Wright. He was principled enough to cancel tours of the South, though doing so caused him to lose a significant amount of money, when he was told that he could not perform at certain venues unless he replaced Gene with a white bassist. Something of this same humanity came across in the music, too, a celebration of life which expressed itself in pure joy.
I was never so aware of this as the one time I witnessed the “classic” Brubeck Quartet with Paul, Gene and drummer Joe Morello playing live in Fort Wayne, Indiana in 1975. Dave and Paul had been playing together for over 30 years at this point, and the band had officially disbanded a few years earlier so that Dave could concentrate on composing orchestral and choral sacred music. The concert I witnessed was part of a reunion tour, and the hiatus had, I’m sure, given a freshness and excitement to this tour which provided added spark to the music. When Dave and Paul exchanged a glance or a smile across the stage, it was as if I could see an electrical current connecting the two. So strong was their bond that at times they would modulate to a different key without any visual or, as far as I could tell, auditory cue that this was about to happen, only looking up and grinning at each other after the fact.
Paul died in 1977, and though I continued to follow Dave’s career and listen to Paul’s solo recordings, nothing they did apart ever matched those old Quartet recordings for me, and I have continued to come back to them year after year. Then, in 2005, I got to meet Dave.
The occasion was the Newport Jazz Festival. Though I did not play at the festival I had a backstage pass, and as the backstage area at Newport is essentially an open courtyard bounded by trailers, once being admitted into this sanctum I found myself in the midst of several jazz luminaries who I admired very much. Dave was one of them, and knowing this was likely the only opportunity I’d ever have, I walked directly over to him and introduced myself, saying that I was about to launch a new jazz worship service at a church in Boston. He received me openly, with a warm handshake and a smile, told me how wonderful it was that we were starting this service, and even passed the news about the service to some other folks around us. I then told him how much his music had meant to me, and how I thought his playing with Paul brought out something special in both of them, trying to be graceful enough not to imply that his playing was not enough on its own merits. In response, he put his hand on my shoulder and said, “You liked Paul, didn’t you!” And then he went on, “In some ways he was my best friend; in other ways, I didn’t know him at all. There’s a book that came out recently, a biography. I learned things about him I never knew from this book. You should read it.”
Well, I now own that book, and I’ve read it twice from cover to cover and gone back to parts of it multiple times. And I learned a lot from it, too. But what I also learned came from Dave’s generosity of spirit, the same thing that animates his music. A lot of people, upon learning that I was a particular fan of someone else in their band, might have ended the conversation at that point, turned their back on me and walked away. Instead, Dave shared my enthusiasm and gave me more insight into his relationship with the other musician and pointed me in the direction of a valuable resource for additional insight. I only met Dave once, but he is a true mentor, in every sense of the word.
Gracious God, thank you for mentors willing to share the wisdom of their years with a generous spirit. May we learn from their example and pass their wisdom along to the generations which follow us. Amen