Archives for April 17, 2008

Jazz master Mel Dalton passed away last Saturday, April 12, at the age of seventy-seven. Many will remember Mel as one of West Michigan”s finest, best-known tenor sax men, and that he was. But to me, he was also my friend, and the closest thing I ever had to a musical mentor. I am thankful for the gift of him in my life.\r\n\r\nAs a young musician back in my college days, I knew of Mel long before I ever met him. His reputation as a formidable player was well established, and during the times when I got to hear him, I simply listened, amazed. Mel was steeped in Coltrane, but he had his own distinctive approach, and a beautiful, full tone to go with it.\r\n\r\nWith sax lessons required for my jazz studies program at Aquinas College, I requested permission from the department head, Bruce Early, to study with Mel, even though he wasn”t on staff. Bruce graciously acquiesced, I contacted Mel, and so began a memorable period of several months studying under Mel. I say “studying” for lack of a better word for those informal, fun, unstructured, richly conversational sessions. Once a week, I would grab my horn and walk the mile or so from my apartment in Eastown to Mel”s home over on Sigsbee Street behind the old Biermeister. Mel made me feel welcome from the beginning. He was always glad to see me, and he never kept a meter running when it came to our times together. An hour, two hours, three hours–it wasn”t about money for Mel. It was about taking a genuine interest in a young musician. Those times with Mel were priceless, not just because of his knowledge, but also because of his encouragement.\r\n\r\nListening to vinyl Coltrane LPs…blazing our way through solo transcriptions of “Giant Steps”…talking about jazz, about life, about God…listening to Mel”s stories of how it was coming up as a jazz musician playing with the likes of Stanley Turrentine and Ahmad Jamal…I have wonderful memories of those days, filled with laughter and good conversation, and warmed by the generous spirit of my friend and mentor.\r\n\r\nThat season came to an end, as all of life”s seasons do. But no matter how much time passed between my later encounters with Mel, whenever he and I crossed paths–usually at some place where he was playing–he always remembered me with warmth, and usually asked whether I had my horn with me. What a privilege to be so honored!\r\n\r\nA few years ago, I got to thinking about Mel. I hadn”t heard news of him in some time, and on impulse, I called him. He wasn”t playing much, he said. His wife was seriously ill, and he was devoting his time to caring for her.\r\n\r\nHow would he like to get together, I asked, and just play a bit, just him and me practicing, like the old days? Mel loved the idea.\r\n\r\nSo for a couple months, we reconnected. My playing had improved vastly over the years, and Mel”s was always impeccable, so he and I made a bit of music there in his basement, blowing along with my collection of Jamie Aebersold CDs. Mel was impressed by those CDs. He had heard of them but never worked with them; those sessions of ours inspired him to go out and purchase a few Aebersold CDs of his own.\r\n\r\nThat was five or six years ago. Time passes so quickly. I got the news Tuesday from my mother that Mel had passed. I hadn”t even been aware that he was ill, but strangely, he”d been on my mind, and I was thinking about giving him a call. Regrettably, that chance has passed.\r\n\r\nI am left with good memories, and with gratitude for the encouragement of an elder jazz statesman and, above all, a friend.\r\n\r\nThank you, Mel. Thanks for everything. You knew the music was in me, as it was in you. You”re one of the ones who helped fan the flame. A musician? Yes, that you were–a great one. But beyond that, you were a beautiful man. God bless you for the gift of your friendship. I”ll see you down the road, amigo.