Chuck Mangione: My Teacher, with rare Audio, 1 of 2

Chuck Mangione (born in 1940 in Rochester, N.Y.) earned his Bachelor’s degree at the Eastman School of Music in 1963, and he returned there as a faculty member from 1968 to 1972, the same years that I attended the University of Rochester, of which Eastman is a part. He directed the jazz ensemble (the big band), and created the beginnings of a jazz program. This was before his pop successes. At this time Mangione was known as a fine straight-ahead jazz player and composer. When he was 15, Dizzy Gillespie was so impressed that he gave Chuck one of his signature bent-up trumpets. Mangione recorded with Wynton Kelly, Art Blakey, and others. In 1969, I went with my friend Don Buck to Duffy’s Tavern in Rochester, to see organist Gene Ludwig’s trio with guitarist Pat Martino, and, I think, Randy Gelispie on drums. Mangione sat in, and he tore the place up with his witty and swinging flugelhorn work, and easily kept up with Martino’s masterful playing.

Here is Mangione on a blues in F in 1972, accompanied by a young Steve Gadd on drums and bass virtuoso Tony Levin (later known for his work with King Crimson and many many others). The late Gerry Niewood, a terrific saxophonist, is on stage but I didn’t include his solo. The band takes a tricky break to bring on Chuck’s flugelhorn solo—the bass comes back in on beat 4:

In the Fall of 1971, I signed up for the “jazz combo” class at Eastman, led by Chuck. I found him to be an excellent teacher—clear, organized, and encouraging. It was an unusual group because, if I recall correctly, it was comprised of a classical trumpeter and oboist who were just learning to play jazz, a trombonist, myself on piano, a bassist, and a drummer. At that time I was mostly self-taught and played by ear. Mangione stressed that I had talent, but, he said, “You’re like a baseball player who can hit a home run, but if I needed you to bunt, you couldn’t do it.” He meant that I could improvise (the “home run”) but I was lacking in control and discipline. He was right, of course.

One of Chuck’s assignments was to write a blues in F. I came in with “Lew’s Blues.” I wrote at the top, “Bright tempo, boppish. Think Clifford Brown and Sonny Rollins.” The students read it perfectly at sight, and everyone including me soloed for one or two choruses. The class, and Chuck, liked it a lot, although Chuck did say the brass could use a few more rests to breathe. Here’s my original leadsheet from 1971 (the blue ink spilled over from a facing page):

And here’s a recording of me playing the piece today, accompanied by iReal Pro’s digital rhythm section. I played the tune twice for you, with first and second ending:

So, that’s how I wrote when I was 20. If you haven’t heard my music in recent years, please listen to me on a blues in F, recorded in 2018 with Tia Fuller on alto sax, John Patitucci on bass, and Terri Lyne Carrington on drums, here. On that one, we play my theme at the end only.

During my college years, every Friday from 6 to 9pm, I hosted a jazz radio show on the campus station, which was heard all over Rochester. Heard—not seen. Yet, somehow, I was known by sight all over the campus. People often came up to me and said, “You’re Lewis Porter, right?” One time it was an editor of the college newspaper, and he asked if I would review an upcoming concert by the Eastman Jazz Ensemble on October 15, 1971. I agreed, and here is the concert program:

Eastman 1971 October 15

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And below is my review. Please know that headlines are written by editors, not by authors. Also, there are a few minor typos, but near the end of the first paragraph in the second column, they accidentally omitted a full line of text. It should read, “finally reminding one of the similar mess Blood, Sweat, and Tears made of ‘God Bless the Child.’” Okay, here it is—please forgive the youthful “know-it-all” tone! (Again, I was 20.):

(University of Rochester, Campus Times, October 18, 1971, p.5)

Here are three of the pieces from the actual recording of the concert! Most of the soloists are listed in my review, and the rhythm section is Phil Markowitz, piano, Gordy Johnson, bass, and Ted Moore, drums. Here is “The Duke” by the late Clare Fischer, who had recorded it in 1968. (It has no connection with the Brubeck tune of the same name.):

“Bus,” a highly original and witty composition by vibraphonist Ted Piltzecker, who remains very active today:

On “Scarborough Fair,” an old English folk song which was well known in the Simon and Garfunkel version, Alec Brinkman is the bassist and John Stevens is added on tuba. The arranger, trumpeter Bruce Trojan, is now a sculptor as well:

So, these are recordings of the very concert that I attended! As you can see, what I wrote was not by any means a “bad review.” I certainly made some harsh criticisms, using words such as “cloddish…gross…clumsy” and phrases like “poor taste…sloppy execution…harmonic vapidity.” But I also said that the concert was “most successful,” the audience was “excited and enthusiastic,” and that overall it was “lively and exciting.” Still, I was naive, and I didn’t know how to critique without offending the artists in question. Most of all, I didn’t realize that in Rochester, one did not lightly dare to criticize Mangione, their “favorite son.” My review unleashed a firestorm of response, and a reaction to that from Mangione, all of which I’ll tell you about next time.

All the best,
Lewis

P.S. I owe Big thanks to David Peter Coppen, Special Collections Librarian and Archivist at the Sibley Library of the Eastman School. Thank you David!