The legendary, incomparable, and iconic Tony Bennett spent seven decades at the top of the music business. (Now that’s incomparable.) He doesn’t exactly need any more fame, but on Math and Musings today I give him his 15 minutes.
Reply
This past Saturday I received word that one of my gradeschool music teachers, Mr. Conrad Ross, had passed away at the age of 88. Overshadowed a bit by the death of another of my musical inspirations, Tony Bennett, truth be told I learned a lot more from Mr. Ross than from Mr. Bennett.
I met Mr. Ross in the fall of 1991. I was a fourth-grade student at Thomas Jefferson Elementary School, and Mr. Ross was the orchestra teacher. I learned much later that Mr. Ross was not an orchestra teacher at all; his instrument was the trumpet, and he’d been teaching band for 30 years. With dwindling enrollment and musical interest in the Binghamton City School District there had been some reshuffling of teachers, and Mr. Ross ended up teaching band at one school and orchestra at another. That I learned all of this only years later was a testament to his good nature and old-school sense of purpose. I’m on the other side of the business now, and I’ve seen teachers with far less seniority throw a fit at the thought of having to change assignments. Mr. Ross took it in stride.
And, coincidentally, I ended up being a direct beneficiary of his teaching at two different schools… because I went to both.
After two enjoyable years of playing the ‘cello in the Thomas Jefferson Elementary orchestra I came to West Middle School, where Mr. Ross was the band director and my clarinet teacher. Actually we began two months before, as Mr. Ross led a summer program at the school I attended in July and August of ’93. Thirty years later I’m the summer school teacher, not teaching the subject I’d wanted to teach originally, never thinking I’d love being a teacher so much I’d want to do it in the summer, and, according to my students, wearing a uniform each day a few decades out of style. On days I wear my glasses, I am Mr. Ross. And I wear the label with pride.
I had the benefit of many great teachers in middle school and high school, and I sort of patterned my own life after a few of the male teachers I had. At the top of the list would be my own father and grandfather, and Conrad Ross wasn’t far behind. The thing about music teachers is you have them for more than one year, and in an interesting twist I had Mr. Ross for five years in a row. I never heard him raise his voice once, and for what it’s worth I really did become at least somewhat proficient at the ‘cello and the clarinet. Sadly within months of having new teachers I quit playing both of those instruments, but the musical appreciation I picked up 30 years ago I still hold dear. I didn’t become a professional musician or a music teacher, but it’s been a favored hobby of mine for three decades. And counting. Playing music you can do your whole life (Mr. Ross was still playing and writing about music into his eighties), and allows you to meet people you might not otherwise know, sharing in the enjoyable goal of performance. They don’t call it working music; it’s playing music.
I finished eighth grade and my days at West Middle School in 1996, and Mr. Ross retired shortly thereafter. He still lived near the school and we’d run into each other from time to time. Same kindly expression he had every day at school. A little like Mr. Rogers or the musical grandfather you never had. I believe there’s a cliche in here about “not making them like they used to.”
Well, I’m trying.
Tony Bennett passed away Friday at the age of 96. News outlets around the world dusted off the obituaries they had filed away 20 years ago, knowing that, well, no one lives forever. Even back then the words “legendary” and “incomparable” were in the first sentence or two, followed by several paragraphs of career highlights and records. Every few years they had to tack on another album. And then another Grammy Award. And then another album and another. And another Grammy Award. And a television special. And a dozen more “lifetime achievement” awards.
But eventually you run out of lifetime.
I did a quick check of the archives on this site. The legendary Tony Bennett was mentioned in no less than 15 different posts. Wow. I’d love to say he’s got the record there but, well, of course it’s second to Sinatra.
Second to Sinatra. For better or worse that’s the Tony Bennett story. But for the last quarter century he was number one, somehow getting better in his seventies, eighties, and nineties than he was as a world-famous 30-something. Forget the big-voiced balladeer in front of an orchestra he was as kid. As the jazz singer with a trio or quartet he really was “the best in the business,” as goes the well-worn Sinatra quote.
For years I’ve told two stories about Tony Bennett. Yes, I saw him perform in concert twice and the shows were incredible, but those aren’t the stories I tell. Story #1 concerns the year of his birth: 1926. I noted that he was one of four people born that year who stayed at his or her job way longer than anyone could have imagined. The others died within the past decade: Castro, Hugh Hefner, Queen Elizabeth. Tony Bennett was the last man standing, a class by himself.
The other story concerned my rating system for vocalists. I always referred to Tony Bennett as a “ballpark singer,” like, in the same ballpark as Frank Sinatra. There was Sinatra, the A-plus vocalist, and then there was the group of singers who had an A or an A-minus. Tony, Dean Martin, Ella Fitzgerald… you know the names.
For the last 20 years I’ve known how I would end the obituary I’d one day write for Tony Bennett. I’d mention the bit about ballpark singers and then announce a promotion. Of course there’s Sinatra and there’s everyone else. In a subset of that second group is a small number of singers close to Sinatra… and then there’s Tony Bennett. The gap between Tony and the other legends listed above has grown to require the following:
Tony Bennett is in his own ballpark.
RIP.
I was about six billion short in my bid to purchase the Washington Commanders, but I do know a thing or two about sports and numbers.
For further details, tune in to today’s episode of Math and Musings.
Yesterday afternoon I had the pleasure of trying a new creation at McDonald’s… a twist on its traditional handheld apple pie… the Cookies & Creme pie.
Wow.
Barely a month after I tried the Grimace Shake (also McDonald’s!) and a week after I posted about the new churro-flavored Kit Kat, we see the summer has proved fruitful in its unusual and delicious food items. Yes, searching out such is a favorite hobby of mine.
I’ve posted about it here, I’ve talked about it on the podcast, and someday I’ll write a book about it. A popular book, perhaps, or maybe a doctoral thesis, because this stuff gets a little heavy. I’m going to call it, at least for now, the Oreoification of America. What’s Oreoification? The branching out of a single product into wilder and wilder flavors. Why Oreo? To my mind they were the first. Everyone is doing it now–Kit Kat, Pop-Tart, Pringles, M&Ms… McDonald’s pies–but there’s no better example than Oreo. What existed for nearly a hundred years as an Oreo, your basic black-and-white variety, an “Oreo” now comes in dozens of flavors, from “special edition” brands to holiday themes to collaborations with other snack items.
It’s evidence of a broader theme of individuality in our culture. Creating one’s own playlist, as it were. The fractured universe of news and entertainment has entered our snack foods as well.
I, for one, am in flavor.
My new obsession is the one everyone has these days… Immaculate Grid, now presented by baseball-reference.com (my previous obsession).
Basically a cross between Wordle, Sudoku, tic-tac-toe, and the back of a baseball card, Immaculate Grid is my life in a 3X3 box.
The embarrassing part about my performance each day (each night, actually, as I always log in for the new game at midnight) is that I’m much better at the stats questions than the teams questions, as in, who played for X team and Y team? Those are likely to be players from this century (the hyper-free agency era), players I’m much less likely to know. I don’t even care about the “bonus” or whatever it is for the rare pick (there’s a formula); I’m just happy for a match.
It really does set the tone for the whole day.
And as I type this I’ve got three minutes until the next puzzle… excuse me.
Last Wednesday we celebrated a milestone on this site: 1500 entries at mikeoconnelljr.com.
The theme of the piece was numbers, and there were quite a few. A hundred to be exact. To hear about the first 20 in greater detail, check out today’s episode of Math and Musings.
I’ve produced so many tributes to Robert E. Gallagher over the years–TV, radio, and print–that doing so again today would just be piling on. Here’s the short version, on what would have been his 100th birthday.
Bob Gallagher lived the quintessential life of the 20th century American male. He was born in the summer of 1923, and grew up in Pennsylvania coal-mining territory during the Depression. After graduating from high school he got a factory job making war materials, but soon left after being drafted. He served in the U.S. Army in World War II through various European countries, then was set to fight in the Pacific. Two atomic bombs later he was coming home.
He went to college on the G.I. Bill, got a job, got married, had three kids, and built his first home. (Fifty years later: same wife, same home.) He watched his children grow and have children of their own, then retired to spend more time with those grandchildren.
Me? I was one of those grandchildren, and for 23 years I got to know and idolize my grandfather. He lived only a few blocks away, and taught me many lessons about life and work and sports and family. He certainly was an upstanding member of the Greatest Generation, and I’m thankful to have him in my family tree.
We ended up going into the same line of work–schoolteacher–and sort of live the same life too.
I couldn’t think of a better one to emulate.
Cent’anni!
The fine folks at Kit Kat have introduced a lovely blending of flavors worthy of inclusion on this blog and my shopping list. I was even willing to commit the great sin of buying something without first seeing its price. Whoa.
It wasn’t cheap, but it was worth every penny.
The new collab is a churro-flavored Kit Kat. My son’s comment, after several seconds of contentment, was, “They haven’t crossed the line yet.”
I’m sure “Jump the Shark Kit Kat” will be on the shelves some day, but it ain’t there yet.
Nice work, Kit Kat.
Somehow every episode of Math and Musings becomes a tribute to my family members of previous generations. Of special note on today’s episode is Robert E. Gallagher, my paternal grandfather who would have turned 100 years old this Wednesday.
Not everyone has close relationships with their grandparents, but I was lucky enough to get to know Grandpa Gallagher, a man I now consider an idol and inspiration. He was 82 when he died, meaning he’s been gone for 18 years, but I did live only a few blocks away from him for the first 23 years of my life. His counsel and wisdom continue to this day, and I’m thankful for the lessons then and now.