June 27, 1970: Ronnie Foster

 

His Wikipedia page doesn’t say anything about the Army, but otherwise Ronnie Foster totally lived up his promise. 

June 27, 1970 

‘My Music, It’s Free’

Ronnie Foster, Jazz Organist, Likes Change 

If it weren’t for the Army, 20-year-old jazz organist Ronnie Foster wouldn’t be around Buffalo at all.

He was on the road – places like Indianapolis, Toledo, Akron, Cleveland – when the draft called him home in January for the first of three physicals.

“If I get drafted,” he says, “I’m gonna try to get into some type of special service, you know? Something to do with music. If I can’t, I’ll probably go crazy.”

He could have gone crazy already, hanging around, waiting for the Army. After more than two years on the road, running with Billy Weston’s band, meeting all kinds of musicians.

“I have a theory,” he says, “that things that happen happen for a reason, you know? There’s a reason why I had to come home and stay home this long.”

* * *

SO HE called up drummer Darryl Washington. Darryl, 19, studies music education at UB and takes lessons from a Buffalo Philharmonic percussionist. Ronnie’s known Darryl since Woodlawn Junior High School and they’ve kept in touch.

They picked up guitarist Red Vitrano (“A well-rounded type of cat,” Ronnie remarks) and started working the Campus Lounge on Elmwood.

After about three weeks, Ronnie ran into a trumpet-playing friend who had a rock thing at The Sands on Main. Guitar, drums, organ and two horns. Horns. The idea appealed to Ronnie’s curiosity.

He didn’t get much chance to do arranging for the group, though, and when the whole thing broke up it was every man for himself.

What kept Ronnie and Darryl together was that they found guitarist Ramza Gahfoor. Ramza possesses a cool that’s tougher than a radioactive shield, but he can push some mighty fine jazz through it. They also found a place to play – Jenk’s Bass Clef Room in the basement of the Tudor Arms Hotel on Franklin, Monday through Thursday. Ronnie says the owner wants to bring a good reputation back to the place and figures jazz will do it.

This particular Thursday is really relaxed. A handful of people and just Ronnie and Darryl playing “Summertime.”

It begins as a ballad, but Ronnie pushes it and pushes it. Foot-pumping bass notes. His right hand is FAST. The organ rolls and boils like a river and the whole room rolls with it. Ronnie, intense for the song, smiles at applause and shakes his head.

Next is Ronnie’s “This, That and the Other,” which is just like the title says.

In the middle of it, Ramza walks in. Very cool. Sunglasses, Edwardian suit and all. Slowly takes out his guitar. Carefully plugs it in. Abstractly tries a few chords, then a few more. Soon he’s into it.

* * *

“THE FIRST set I usually get a chance to stretch out,” Ronnie says afterwards. “As the night goes on, the people like to hear more songs they know. I like to be constantly aware of what’s happening with the people. I look around. Those songs they’re not into don’t get played as much.

“This thing happening today, this psychedelic music, it’s high-tension music. Years ago, you could play ballads and everybody loved it. But people now aren’t into that. They’re into” – snaps a beat with his fingers – “like that.

“In ‘Summertime,’ I like to think of fields. I’d like to take that organ outdoors and play in the fields sometime.

“My music, it’s free, but it comes in splotches. It’s there and there and it’s gone and then it comes back, you know? But the basic foundation is free.”

* * *

RONNIE also practices in splotches. Some weeks he’ll practice six or seven hours a day, then he’ll lay off so everything he’s learning will sink in.

“This keeps a constant pace of change,” Ronnie says. “And when we rehearse a tune, I don’t like to handcuff the musicians, you know? I just like a good clean sound. I lay out a basic feeling that I want and they know what to do.

“What I’m looking for is a difference. The more I try to work out things, the closer I come. But if I sound different and the group doesn’t sound different, then it’s not a different sound.

“Now if I could find a real nice vibes player that was into a different thing, a young cat, I’d like to add him. And if I get some bread, I’d like to add a celeste too.”

* * *

RONNIE’S audience-testing makes the next set begin with “You Stepped Out of a Dream” and “Spinning Wheel.”

“It’s an older crowd,” he explains later. “It’s like you’re crawling and you have to get over to them. This is the only way I know how to do it now. When I get records out, it’ll be different.”

Ronnie and his girlfriend spend weekends around Buffalo’s other jazz clubs, particularly The Revilot on East Ferry. Last weekend he sat in with Young Holt Unlimited.

“This is my hometown, you know? If musicians come in, I want to make them feel at home. I know what it’s like to be in another town and feel like a stranger.

“This time while I’m here at home, what I learned on the road comes in handy. I can sit down and do whatever I want. But it’s good to get out and get some exposure to what’s happening in other places. That’s why I want to get back out.

“If I’m not drafted, I’ve had 50 million offers. People want to put me out there. People say if I want to record, they’ll do it. But I can’t go anywhere till I’m done with the draft.” 

The box/sidebar: 

Started on the Piano at 4 

Ronnie Foster started playing his mother’s piano when he was four, but he was afraid to play organ at first.

“I was with this drummer, Virgil Day, and we went down to the Shalimar. They were supposed to have an organ and a piano, but there was no piano. So Virgil says: ‘Come on, man, play the organ.’

“It was a big thing and it had all that electricity, you know? It took half an hour of coaxing just to get me up there.

“Then I used to go up to Denton, Cottier & Daniels, up to the studios. I’d pay 60 cents an hour and used to spend $3 or $4 a day. Finally the guy there comes up to me and says: ‘You can just practice for free until somebody comes in.’”

* * *

HE STARTED playing night clubs and he used to hang around Jack MacDuff and Jimmy Smith whenever they were in town. “They didn’t get a chance to breathe or nothin’,” he says.

“When I was 14, I came by the Pine Grill with my sneakers on. I was just a little kid, sitting there listening to the group. Finally, I asked the organist if I could play.

“He told me to ask the guy on horn. ‘Sure, you can play,’ he said. And my feet couldn’t even reach the pedals. All those two weeks, I came down and played what I knew.

* * *

“THAT WAS Sammy Bryant. He had a manager and the manager heard about me and he called me for gigs while I was still in school. The day I graduated from Lafayette, I was gone to Columbus, Ohio.

“My mother and me, we have an understanding. She came to see me Wednesday night and she comes to see me on the road. One time she even came to Indianapolis.

“I asked her to send me coats one winter and we walk outside and I say: ‘Boy, that car sure reminds me of home.’ It looked like my mother’s car.

“Well, it WAS my mother’s car. She drove all the way down to bring me the coats. That really made me feel good.”