Dec. 19, 1970: Cesar's Children

 

Bernie Cesar, the patriarch of this piece, crosses my mind frequently, not only because of his incredibly generous involvement with the band, but also because his insurance agency on South Cayuga Road in Cheektowaga is within hailing distance of the place where I play bridge.

His son Bernard Jr. runs the agency these days. One of his daughters is co-owner and corporate secretary. His other son, Michael, is an anesthesiologist and the pastor of Grace & Truth Church in Amherst. The group’s singer, Debbie Winstel, became his wife.

Pianist Joey Santora, who died last January, continued to pursue a career in music. He joined the Rochester-based jazz fusion group Cabo Frio in 1978, recorded several albums on MCA with them, and eventually became an assistant professor at Roberts Wesleyan College in Rochester, where he directed the jazz program. 

Dec. 19, 1970 

‘Cesar’s Children’

One Big Family 

It’s late Sunday afternoon and Bernard Cesar’s house in the neo-colonial section of North Amherst is practically bursting with life.

There are kids everywhere. The air is ripe with tomato sause and garlic bread from Millie Cesar’s electric kitchen. And someone is singing “Hallelujah” in four-part harmony.

Four of the kids are the Cesars’ own. The rest are spiritually adopted. Helping Mrs. Cesar in the kitchen are Kathy, an irrepressible laugher who used to come around with her boyfriend and keeps coming back, occasionally staying over. And quiet Diane, the most consistent of group member Jim Bradley’s girlfriends.

* * *

AND THERE’S the group itself – Cesar’s Children – clustered around the family room piano practicing Handel’s “Hallelujah Chorus” so they can use it for an introduction to “Jesus Christ Superstar.”

Cesar and press agent Dave Elias have just shed the extra clothes they wore to survive the Bills game in War Memorial Stadium. “The officials gave it away,” Cesar reports as Dave goes somewhere to find a bottle of Chianti.

The multitude of activities, the crowd of people and the glow over everything makes Sunday feel like Christmas. All you need are presents.

* * *

THE VARIOUS enterprises suddenly disintegrate as Mrs. Cesar, Kathy and Diane start filling plates with spaghetti. Cesar – mustache, goatee, eyes gleaming – slips into his patriarch’s place at the head of the table while the group shuffles chair to chair as if working out some cosmic seating plan.

There’s pianist Joey Santora, intense and irreverent – he’s the one who calls Cesar Uncle Gog instead of Uncle Bernie. Singer Debbie Winstel, quiet, wearing glasses. Singer Sam San George, full of stories and imitations. Bass guitarist Jim Bradley, articulate but mysteriously independent. And drummer Don Kroll, who seems to deliberate all his moves.

* * *

THE DINNER crowd laughs all the way through the chocolate cake as Sam tells about bringing girls home to meet his mother. Or how she’d show off her mink stole if he gave her one.

The group is at the Cesars’ every Sunday and practically every other day as well. Sometimes they stay overnight. “The neighbors think we’re kind of strange,” Joey remarks.

For Cesar, who has run an insurance agency in Buffalo for 15 years, the group is like extra family. As Uncle Bernie, he takes them with him to the health club, treats them to free runs through his car wash and enlists them whenever he feels like turning a backyard chore into an offbeat adventure.

* * *

“I TAKE pride in having these kids,” he says. “I personally take enjoyment by seeing them move ahead. I don’t want to see them playing in some tavern, being abused for their talent and getting paid a fin a night.”

“It’s a unique arrangement,” Sam points out. “We get paid a salary, with diminishing returns on the part of Uncle Bernie. He’s putting money in until we start making money. We never have to worry about whether we’ll be taken for a week’s pay.”

* * *

PUTTING the group together actually was Mrs. Cesar’s idea. She had seen Joey and Sam perform and she felt they deserved some sort of “musical vehicle.”

The vehicle arrived last summer. Cesar invested in equipment, even a truck, while Mrs. Cesar began buying the group clothes. “She was shopping for Christmas presents last week,” someone says, “and all of a sudden she sees something and says: ‘Wouldn’t that be good for the group?’”

Cesar makes the bookings, collects the money, pays the group. “I think I can deal with clubowners much better than a kid,” he says. “I talk to them as a middle-aged businessman, just like they are.”

Presently, he’s booking them in what you might call the prime circuit of local commercial music clubs. They’re at Gabriel’s Gate on Allen Street every night but Monday until Jan. 6, when they move to John’s Flaming Hearth in Niagara Falls.

* * *

THEY’LL also combine Christmas carols with light jazz in a program Monday night at Consolata Mission, Brompton Road, Williamsville.

The group blends two- to four-part harmonies, sometimes sounding like a diminished Fifth Dimension, sometimes like The Carpenters. Joey plays Oscar Peterson-flavored piano with Jim and Don’s unassuming rhythms. Occasionally the three instrumentalists do a jazz number.

“We don’t like the idea of doing things that come out like commercial mush,” Sam says. “Our approach to rock is jazz, like Blood, Sweat & Tears or Chicago. We’re trying to rock things and make them commercially palatable.”

* * *

ALL THE group are taking music lessons and rehearsals are held afternoons in Joey’s house. Joey often will work out harmonies (he and Sam both sing natural harmonies, he says) and he’ll either arrange arrangements or they’ll just happen.

“We doing essentially what we want to do,” Jim explains. “We mix the jazz we want to do with the rock we want to do.”

* * *

SAM AND Joey, who were in the group that opened Gabriel’s Gate a year ago, agree that the club’s atmosphere poses an extra challenge for performers.

“The only way to work the room and be satisfied is to do what you always do,” Sam says. “If you try something, chances are it won’t work. People listen very hard in that room. So we work hard and try not to let the non-response sometimes bring us down.”

* * *

RESPONSE or no response, this is the group’s second stay at the club and Cesar is happy with their development. He hopes to get them recorded sometime next year.

“I don’t have enough time to breathe sometimes,” Cesar says, “but I’ll tell you, I enjoy their success. I think the best thing I can do is open the door and make sure nobody takes advantage of them. What else can I do? I’m too old to get up there and play myself.” 

The box/sidebar 

Started With Jazz 

Pertinent and impertinent information about Cesar’s Children:

Sam San George, 27, singer, Cardinal Mindszenty High School (Dunkirk) and Canisius College, substitute teacher, single.

Deborah Winstel, 19, singer, Bishop Neumann High School, attended D’Youville College, single.

Joey Santora, 21, piano, Kensington High, single.

Jim Bradley, 22, bass guitar, Seneca Vocational and Kensington High, attended Villa Maria College, single.

Don Kroll, 19, drums, West Seneca High, single.

* * *

JOEY (“I started the whole mess”) and Jim began playing commercial jazz together about six years ago. “We favored it as far as artists are concerned,” Jim says. “Rock at that time wasn’t that stimulating.”

When Jim left for active duty with the National Guard, Sam played bass with the Joe Santora Trio in George’s Trojan Lounge, where Mrs. Cesar first heard the group. Sam has sung in night clubs about nine years.

Don formerly played rock with Maintenance. He was in Gabriel’s Gate last July and suddenly felt that somebody wanted to see him outside. It was Sam, who had seen him playing with Rev. Kenneth Kennedy in South Buffalo. Sam had been looking a week for him.

* * *

DEBBIE answered the group’s newspaper ad two months ago after their other girl singer came down with a larynx condition. Joey taught her the group’s arrangements in four days.

They might be called Cesar’s Children because Bernard Cesar handles their bookings, distributes money, buys them equipment, a truck and even their performing clothes.

But it’s more than that. As Jim puts it: “Most of us are fatherless. Uncle Bernie has more or less become like a father to all of us.”