Ornette Coleman: My Memories of Him, 1—University of Rochester, 1971

I once heard Denardo, Ornette Coleman’s drummer son, say that his father made everybody feel like they were a close friend of his. So I suppose I was only one of many, but I certainly felt that closeness. I never imposed myself on Ornette—that's not my style—but I had many interactions with him over the years, and they were always positive. So this will be a long series of memories, and I hope you will enjoy it, because he was a lovely, brilliant, generous, and poetic person.

From the time I first heard Ornette’s solos on his unique compositions “Peace” and “Lonely Woman,” recorded in 1959, I was moved by his deep, soulful and bluesy expressiveness, his rich melodicism, and his warm sound. To set the mood, let’s listen to about one minute of his beautiful, freely improvised solo on “Peace,” with Charlie Haden and Billy Higgins:

The first time I saw him in person was at the University of Rochester (U of R), New York, on Saturday evening, March 20, 1971. I was able to confirm the date because I wrote an article about the event for the next issue of the Campus Times. Most likely, he was brought in by the Rochester student concert committee. Typical of many universities, they didn't know where to put him, so he performed in the student cafeteria in the big dormitory at the top of the hill (the “dorm” that is now named for Susan B. Anthony.) There was no stage—the Coleman quartet just set up at one end of the cafeteria. They played two sets.

Ornette played all three of his instruments—mostly alto sax, but also trumpet and violin. Dewey Redman was on tenor, and he also played a Chinese double-reed instrument that he called a musette. I don’t have an equally clear visual memory of the bassist and drummer, but they were Charlie Haden and Ed Blackwell. Haden used a “fuzz wah” pedal for the last number, “Friends and Neighbors.” According to the article I wrote afterward, other numbers played included—not in order— “Lonely Woman, “Clergyman’s Dreams,” “Airborne,” “Elizabeth,” “Sense of Hearing,” and possibly one more whose title I didn’t note.

I was at Ornette’s performance with my late friend Dave Ronis (1950-2015). We had connected during our first week at the college because of our mutual love of jazz. Dave wasn’t a musician, but he was a very knowledgeable listener. I must have been playing some of my jazz LPs in my dorm room, because he walked down the hall from his room to find me. (We were on the same floor.) Dave was a very witty guy and he always had a beard. He described himself as a “beardophile,” and soon after college, partly through his influence, I became one too.

When Ornette came, we were juniors, in our third year of college, and we were sharing a room in the dorm that held the cafeteria. Dave had a “steady” girlfriend whom he had met in high school, Sheila Rakusin. (They later married, and earned Ph.D.s, and she is now Dr. Sheila Rakusin Ronis.) She was visiting that day. So the three of us sat at a table in the cafeteria, at the end of lunch service, while some students quietly left until the place was two-thirds empty. And we enjoyed this amazing music.

Ornette’s quartet performed for about an hour. Because the situation was so informal, it was easy for us to go up and talk with the musicians afterward. Ornette in particular was very talkative and welcoming. While answering questions for me and Dave, he kept looking over at Sheila. We were so interested in Ornette that we didn’t pay much attention to that. But she certainly noticed, and as soon as we started to leave, she said, “I can’t believe the famous Ornette Coleman kept looking down my dress!” He had been staring at her cleavage!

In June 1972, I received my bachelor’s degree in psychology from the U of R. I had also taken many courses in philosophy and, of course, music. During this time, Coleman was living at what he called Artist House, at 131 Prince Street in the Soho section of lower Manhattan. He occupied the third floor and held performances on the first floor. Both were big open “loft” spaces. I never attended an event there, but I did walk by and saw what it looked like.

Years went by. Life (well, actually my girlfriend of the time) took me to the Boston area around April of 1974, and I lost contact with what was going on in New York. Almost by accident (a long story), I fell into teaching jazz history and directing the big band at Tufts University, and soon my mentor, Dr. T.J. Anderson, persuaded me, despite my resistance, to apply for a Ph.D. program. I finished that degree at Brandeis University in June 1983.

Two years later, in 1985, I received a call from someone at Brandeis. “Would you be willing and available to spend a day with Ornette Coleman?” I said, “Yes, of course!”

I’ll tell you that story next time.

All the best,

Lewis