By George!

It always amazes me how many creative people labor away anonymously, eclipsed by what passes as “artistry” in our world of popular culture.  Their stories need to be told.

One such person is George Moffett.  We befriended George and his wife Suzanne quite by accident.  They were strolling down the dock where we kept our boat late on a summer afternoon in Connecticut.  At the time we had just purchased a 40’ Hatteras to live on during the summer months after having recently moved to Florida and we were working away, thoroughly cleaning the boat, I on the outside and Ann in the galley when a couple around our age stopped to chat. 

They had a smaller boat on another dock but said the life we were living was their dream, especially on a boat of this nature.  So I said, would you like to see it even though it’s not exactly ship shape right now, we just bought it.  We would love to, was their immediate reply.  I ducked my head into the boat to tell Ann we have some visitors.  What, she replied, the boat’s a mess!  They know, don’t worry!  So they came aboard for a tour and before we knew it we ended up sitting on the back deck for hours, Ann having whipped up some impromptu appetizers, drinking wine, watching the sunset and talking.  It felt like we had known them forever.  That was thirteen years ago and over this time, we forged a meaningful friendship.

While still living in Connecticut they planned a road trip to Florida primarily to see their daughter who lived in Ft. Lauderdale at the time as well as a first-time brief visit to our home.  On their way down they received terrible news, their beloved only child, Kelly, had suddenly died from an interaction of her medications and they were asked to pick up her remains.  

When Suzanne called us with that shocking news she told us they were then heading back to Connecticut.   Ann insisted that they at least come for lunch.  They agreed and finally decided to just stay the night as we would not hear of their driving any further that day.  But as they grieved and we lent emotional support to the best of our ability, we persuaded them to stay several more days, needing to recuperate from such an overwhelming trauma.  During that time we became even closer as we talked and shared our histories.  It was then that we learned some surprising things about George, who we discovered was a talented artist as well as a musician, picking up both creative endeavors later in his life.

Before this tragic event they had sold their home in Westport, bought a condo in Milford as well as the boat of their dreams, a 43’ Hatteras.  Only three days after holding a memorial service for Kelly, George had a life-threatening stroke and was hospitalized in St. Vincent's Hospital in Bridgeport and spent more than three weeks there undergoing daily therapy.  

The prognosis was poor – he may never walk again unaided and he might have difficulty expressing himself. He was seen by the traditional medical community and an acupuncturist and although they were very instrumental in his recovery, equal credit goes to George for his determination to regain his cognitive and physical abilities, even when the medical community had its doubts.  Each day he wrote in a journal and although initially it was all gibberish due to the stroke, slowly it began to make sense.  He forced his mind to work again and to this day he writes in a journal, like a runner would run miles to stay in shape.  Almost all of his physical abilities returned as well. It was at that time they decided to move to Savannah and to sell the boat. 

George worked as a house painter most of his life.  He had his own business.  That morphed into faux painting skills with his work in large demand by owners of some very beautiful Fairfield County estates.  His creative energy was expressed in that form as well.

As a younger man it also came out in music.  George and Suzanne had several musician friends such as the baritone sax player, Jon Lanni, who played with musical great Maynard Ferguson as well as a bass player, Walter Urban, and many others.   Walter was in the market for a new bass and Suzanne approached him to purchase his "older" bass for George who always wanted to learn how to play an instrument but was discouraged to do so since his two brothers before him failed at their own musical efforts.   Suzanne wrapped up this gift in some pretty white paper and a big red bow and placed it right in the middle of the living room as a big “surprise” for George……like an old friend who just happened along.  "Hurry home, George," it called out to him, as Suzanne fondly remembers.  So you could say that she was very instrumental in creating George, the musician, while having to listen to the screeching sounds as he practiced and eventually learned how to play.

George then began to study with a number of teachers including Clyde Lombardi, a well known American jazz bassist who had extensive classical training.  Before long – and this is while he worked as a house/faux painter, George became a keen student of jazz and started a second career playing gigs in Fairfield County, and New York City, including accompanying the piano great, John Mehegan as well as many other fine musicians in the area.  Can you imagine picking up this incredible skill in mid life and playing at a professional level?

But then on to his discovery of the inner artist. One day George came across several oil paintings that so inspired him that he decided to contact the artist, Frank Covino, who had an art academy in Fairfield, Ct.  George enrolled and a whole new expression of art came to life. You might say an artist was discovered.  Many of the paintings depicted here are from those early days, particularly the portraits.  He sometimes worked from photographs, but frequently just as he imagined the person. His portrait of Rembrandt was painted during one long day and strictly from memory.

After the stroke, his musical days were behind him, and he had given up on art as well while he worked at his recovery.  But two years later he said it was time.  His first post-stroke attempt was of a woodpecker, but he was discouraged by it and again put his painting aside for awhile.  Eventually he went back to it, deciding he would let the painting “do him” rather than his attempting to “do the painting” so it was at this time he began to do abstracts and to this day his art has sustained him. 

So when Ann visited Suzanne in Savannah recently – a “girl’s weekend” – I gave her a camera and asked her to take some photographs of his paintings.  Unfortunately a few were unavoidably photographed at an angle and others taken with a flash, both of which distort the painting.  But she did the best she could and with some editing I’ve managed to use as many as possible.  They tell the story of a man who found recovery through art, as well as showcasing a remarkably creative person.  Hopefully, this blog entry preserves some of his work.

Using most software, you can click onto the first photograph and create a slide show.  The paintings are labeled as part of the JPEG title.  George has successfully worked in portrait, animal, and abstract painting, all in oil and all truly remarkable.

 

 

It’s Come to This

I’ve passed through Baltimore more times than I care to count but never toured the city.  I know the Baltimore portrayed by Anne Tyler, a place of comfy familiarity. She must be appalled about what’s happening in Baltimore, although it is not surprising. Racial riots and tensions are not new in America.  It is reminiscent of the 1992 Rodney King riots in L.A. which followed the acquittal of police officers after a police brutality incident was caught on video tape.  But that was a “one off” capture of an incident.

What is new is the widespread use of cell phone, surveillance, and dash board cameras that reveal the everyday nature of the problem.  Twitter and YouTube deliver the message to a nation crazed for user-generated content.  The more we see, the more inured we become to the root of the problem, racial and economic division. 

Meanwhile media firms are pouring endless money into creating “shows” designed to be watched on ubiquitous mobile devices, the holy grail of streaming Internet firms such as Netflix.  We’ve become a nation of somnambulists, cynical about the political process (ironically revealed by Netflix’s House of Cards – does life imitate art or vice versa?). According to a study done two years ago, “by 2015 Americans are expected to consume media for more than 1.7 trillion hours, or an average15.5 hours per person per day, again not counting workplace time.” 

2015 is now. My wife recently boarded an aircraft from Atlanta and most people were watching videos on their laptops or iPods or even cell phones and although anecdotal evidence at best, many were of interactive games or slam-bang explosive Hollywood films.   Imagine, most of your waking hours consuming media of this nature?

What happened to reading?  Same answer as to what has happened to education.  As long as we put a premium on consuming video content while minimizing education, there really is no answer to the racial and economic tensions that will play out in the future.  Along with rebuilding our infrastructure, and our inner cities, education must be this nation’s highest priority to provide opportunity where people feel there is none. Better police tactics are needed, and research and education is required there as well.   No wonder there is such despondency.

Easier said than done naturally, and having a dysfunctional government is not helping. As presidential electioneering gets underway the failings of the whole process will become even more apparent, thanks to Supreme Court sanctioned unlimited campaign contributions by corporations and individuals: its a few mega billionaires and corporations vs. the rest of us. 

And it’s come to this in Baltimore today: the Baltimore Orioles will play the Chicago White Sox in an empty stadium -- our National Pastime with no spectators allowed because of safety concerns. Eerie symbolism of things to come? Is that how we want to live our lives? 

He Had That Certain Feeling

Apparently I’ve reached the point in this blog where I am beginning to circle back on myself.  Earlier this week I gave a Gershwin concert at the Brookdale Senior Living Center of Palm Beach Gardens.  I thought I would write about it and record one of the many pieces I played there.  

So I started to think about what I would say about this special experience--special as it was an all Gershwin program, probably the composer I most admire for his versatility and genius.  He wrote some of the greatest songs for the American Songbook, as well as concert and operatic works (we are seeing American in Paris this summer on Broadway; can’t wait!).  He singlehandedly removed the barrier between jazz and classical music.

Also, of all the composers I play on the piano, my so-called style is most suitable for his works.  I wanted to write about my joy of Gershwin, and as I began I had the nagging feeling that I’ve said all of this before.  Searching my blog I found pretty much what I wanted to say from six years ago! There are some links to some pieces I “home recorded.”  “Google Pages” use to host audios, but no longer does; however, old recordings are grandfathered such as this one of selections from Porgy and Bess.

I had written that entry after attending a live performance of Earl Wild’s arrangement, Fantasy on Porgy and Bess.  But as the former entry tells most of my Gershwin story, I’ll let it speak for itself.  Preparing for this recent concert, I recorded The Man I Love, with the limitations of the USB-size Sony Digital Voice Recorder I use at home, which I can share using Dropbox.  It is best listened to at low volume as the recording device renders it “tinny.”

Via Dropbox I can also share a couple of Gershwin pieces I recorded more than six years ago at a studio, the quality of the recordings better but I can now play these pieces a little more professionally, thanks to some lessons I took a few years ago, Someone To Watch Over Me, and Isn’t It a Pity. 

I can’t imagine where Gershwin would have taken American music if his life wasn’t extinguished by a brain tumor at the age of 38.  But his output during his short life was remarkable, from Tin Pan Alley, Broadway to classical and operatic, to Hollywood.  He could write in all venues and he was a consummate pianist himself.  An excellent, succinct summary of his life and musical accomplishments can be found here.

George Gershwin once said that true music must repeat the thought and inspirations of the people and the time. My people are Americans and my time is today.  Indeed, he had that “certain feeling” as this piano roll recording of the master himself playing his song That Certain Feeling attests.

My audience at Brookdale was more than appreciative.  This is the longest of my prepared concerts, lasting a little more than an hour without a break, a medley of 24 songs, including some from Porgy and Bess, and concluding with the theme from Rhapsody in Blue.  The sheet music for all pieces is from The New York Times Gershwin Years in Song (published by Quadrangle Press which was then owned by the NYT). It was presented to me in my publishing days by one of our printers in 1973 and it is a prized possession as the songs include all the introduction sections which, in a George and Ira Gershwin song, can be as interesting as the song itself. I’m grateful to still be playing from this treasure some 42 years later -- and so the circle closes.

Silver Slugger Opening Day

It’s that special time of year as baseball rises with the spring Crocuses, throwing off the winter and March madness.  For us in Florida, it’s the end of Spring Training games but the beginning of the minor league season.  In Palm Beach Country we have the A plus league playing in Jupiter’s Roger Dean Stadium, fielding teams from Florida’s west and east coast.  Although the official opening day at the stadium was the week before, for us “Silver Sluggers” Wednesday night was our opening day.  It was a lovely spring/summer early evening, in the low 80’s with a light breeze, the Jupiter Hammerheads (the Marlins’ farm club) playing the Clearwater Threshers (Philadelphia’s farm club).

Less important than the outcome of these games (either the Hammerheads or the Palm Beach Cardinals play; both share the stadium, one being the home team while the other is on the road), is the game itself, how it’s played, major league in every respect, the pristine field, the beauty of the game.  “Silver Sluggers” – 55 and over – get to enjoy all those Wednesday games, $25 for the entire season, including a hot dog and soda!  How can you beat that?  And there we share the experience with similar minded friends, all of us sitting practically on the field behind third base.  Unlike the big leagues, it’s an opportunity to really feel part of the game.

The flag was at half mast, in honor of the 150^th anniversary of Abraham Lincoln’s death, history and baseball inextricably intertwined.

I’m particularly interested in some of the left handed pitchers, as my high school fantasy was to pitch in the big leagues.  So, I was thrilled to see a lefty pitch, Jarlin Garcia of the Hammerheads who started Wednesday’s game, working 6 innings, giving up no runs with 4 strike outs and 2 walks.  Not a flame thrower, but he was bringing his fast ball in the low 90’s balancing those pitches with off speed stuff.  The 22 year old kid from Santo Domingo, Dominican Republic has potential.

Some excitement at the game was the presence of  Domonic Brown, the big Philadelphia Phillies regular right fielder who was playing on rehab assignment.  He went 1 for 4.

The game itself was decided in the ninth inning when Clearwater scored all 7 of its runs, beating the Hammerheads 7-4.  But, as I said, that was less important than just being there.  Let the games begin!