Robert Isele and George Roberts, two trombone legends, recently met for the first time. A review of the meeting can be found in the Summer 2001 Journal.

The following is an article that originally appeared in the Winter 1999 Journal.

George Roberts:
Tribute & Conversation
by Michael Millar

George Roberts, "Mr. Bass Trombone," was joined by more than 250 friends, family and colleagues on September 28, 1998, at the Ventura Club in Sherman Oaks, California, for the latest in a series of tribute dinners organized by trumpet legend Uan Rasey. This event was co-hosted by Uan, Ralph Bigelow, Lew McCreary, Mike Millar, Dick Nash, Barrett O'Hara, Bruce Otto, Bill Reichenbach, Bill Tole and Lloyd Ulyate.

As usual, Master of Ceremonies Lloyd Ulyate read his traditional "prepared statement," which he claims to have "picked up at the Price Club." By now, many of those who frequent these parties can recite the words, in which the only change is the name of the evening's "victim," right along with Lloyd's deadpan delivery. "His golden sound has entertained literally millions. The name George Roberts means ‘job well done.'"

Lloyd warmed up the audience, as only he can, with an assortment of stories. The show proceeded with video foot-age of the "100 Trombone Concert," which took place in Tokyo in the fall of 1997. In the video, Harry Betts conducts his Porgy and Bess Suite, featuring George and Lloyd. A slide show followed, prepared by George's wife Sue, with pictures from George's youth to the present day. Roasting and toasting continued with the introduction of Dick Nash, Milt Bernhart and Lew McCreary.

Next up was Bones West, which is a group that George founded in 1980, preceded by remarks from director Ralph Bigelow. Their selections were Harry Betts' arrangement of I Love You and Mr. Nice Guy by Adrian Drover. The latter, featuring a fine performance by soloist Phil Teele, was composed specifically for the event and dedicated to George. Phil Teele and Mike Millar then spoke about George's influence on their careers. "Hoyt's Garage" (Jim Boltinghouse, Alex Iles, Bob McChesney, Mike Millar, Bruce Otto, Bill Tole and Craig Ware, with guest conductor Harry Betts) opened with Hoyt Bohannon's arrangement of Shenandoah.

Next was Tommy Pederson's arrangement of Josephine, which originally featured George on the Dick Noel album All My Friends are Trombone Players, with Mike Millar taking the solo this time. For the closer, Harry Betts unveiled a gag arrangement of Makin' Whoopee, introducing it by telling George, "We're going to do a medley of your hit."

After reading letters from Boston Symphony bass trombonist Doug Yeo and ITA president Paul Hunt, Lloyd introduced the man of the hour - George Roberts - and presented him with a commemorative plaque. True to form, George's words were a combination of humor and love, and he was obviously touched. It was a wonderful evening for all involved.

A Conversation with George Roberts
by Michael Millar

George, my objective is to look at the music scene in L.A. from the viewpoint of studio brass players. Can we start with your general background - roots, education and teachers?

I was born in Des Moines, Iowa [March 22, 1928]; went through high school there. When I was younger, I had heard records of Tommy Dorsey and my big dream was to be in a big-name band. I left high school early and joined the Navy when I was very young. I had great parents; they were very supportive of me. I was in the Navy for two years and had a little group that played at the officer's club in Guam.

Who was your first teacher?

Jack Dalby. He was a wonderful man. He had me playing long tones until that's just about all I could do. He said, "You have to get the greatest sound in the world and then learn what to do with it."

It comes down to basics.

In L.A., if you're an absolute master of the basics -- sound, good time, conception -- you have 95% of the business. There's only five percent stark terror.

After the Navy, I came out to Los Angeles and went to a music conservatory. The American Operatic lab taught me that every time you see something on a piece of music it doesn't necessarily mean it's going to be a solo. The thing in L.A., as a bass trombone player, is to be the most flexible trombone player in the world so that you can play with all of the hundreds of wonderful lead players that you'll be working with.

I started with Ray Robbins' band, which was a hotel band, and was with them for a year. I then played with Gene Krupa around 1948-49. The lead trombone player was Urbie Green, second trombone was Gene Mullins, and I was very conscious of what my percentages were for surviving in the business. Urbie's one of my heroes, one of the great players of our time. I thought, "If I go [to L.A. or New York] I'm going to have to be better than Urbie or I'm never going to make it because they'll hire him before me. What could I do that would give me a better percentage?"

Find a niche?

That's correct. I thought, well, Bart Varsalona with Kenton's band is like a bull -- loud. He's a tough bass trombone player, but it was the sound that really intrigued me. I thought, well, nobody's ever played bass trombone. It's always been the root and fifth, like Peanut Vendor, and never the beautiful, sustained lyrical quality. It would be dreaming to be like Urbie Green but an octave lower. I asked Krupa if he would mind if I switched to bass trombone.

So, one night, Gene said, "Stand up and play a solo." And I started Where or When on a low E-flat. Urbie looked at me and said, "George, you're the only guy I've ever heard play that horn like a trombone." I have never forgotten that comment he made to me! It's a trombone -- it's a big trombone -- but it's still a trombone. It should be, so why wouldn't it be a love horn, lyric? Now cello's been doing it for the same reason. What is the male voice? And I thought, the male voice is where I'm talking right now. That's where Sinatra sings, that's where Tony Bennett sings, that's where Nat Cole sings - in the talking range of your voice. That's the bass trombone vocal range. And it's a gorgeous sound - soft and lush. Then you can use the inflections. If you play it down to prove you're playing bass trombone, then you can't do any inflections because you're locked in to the wrong octave.

Had you heard any of the classical players at that time?

I heard that Allen Ostrander was a hell of a bass trombone teacher - he was with the New York Philharmonic. So I had a lesson. I said, "Allen, how do you play a D-pedal tone? Can you play one?" He very softly played a D-pedal. And he said, "That's a D-pedal." I'd always used that high embouchure, so I picked my horn up and played a D-pedal, like waaaahhh, like this! He almost jumped out of his seat! And the minute I left the office I understand he picked the phone up and called the other two trombone players with the New York Philharmonic and said, "I just had a lesson with a kid that's with Gene Krupa's bond. We've got to watch out for this kid!" [laughs] Gene Krupa's band broke up and I went to Reno to work in Ray Herbeck's show band. That's where I met Susanne, my wife, and we fell madly in love. I also met Jack Teagarden in Reno and got to know him very well - one of my idols.

One day I got a call. "George, this is Stan Kenton. Bart Varsalona left the band. Johnny Halliburton's playing right now, but we'd like to get a new bass trombone player, and we'd like to know if you'd like to come and try out for the band." I said, "Yessss!!!" [laughs] Y'know, like screaming in the phone! He said, "[Bob] Fitzpatrick and Milt Bernhart had talked about [you]. Why don't you come to LA.?" I said, "Okay, right on!" So I started practicing every record that I could find - all the bass trombone things. I practiced outdoors all the time to try to build up lung capacity.

They just had one bass trombone on Kenton's band at that time?

Yes. I went to the Oasis Club and met Stan, and he gave me the book. My wife's parents and Sue drove me to the Oasis Club the next night. And as I got out of the car, I was a nervous wreck. I dropped the book on the street on Western Boulevard! I met everybody - Shorty Rogers, Maynard, Bud Shank, Art Pepper - like all the heavy weights were there. I'm a nervous wreck, and all of a sudden Stan said, "let's get up September Song." Suddenly the lights went out. It was black in the club! He said, "Don't get up September Song. We have a new person in the band." And I said, "Go ahead and play it. I know it." When the lights came on he was staring at me. He went to the microphone and said, "You know, if anyone is so interested to be on this band that they already memorized half of the book, you're now looking at our new bass trombone player."

I did about three years with Stan. Sue became pregnant, so I came out to LA. - had a really rough time at the very beginning. I passed by Capitol Records and I thought, Lee Gillette used to record with John Palladino on the road with Stan Kenton. I should go in and say hello to him. Now get a load of this: I thought Lee Gillette was a sound mixer. He's probably the biggest A & R person for the company. That's how dumb I was. [Lee] says, "C'mon in, there's somebody I want you to meet. Nelson, this is George Roberts." It was Nelson Riddle. I had no idea who he was, I really didn't. I didn't know anything about L.A. He says, "Come over and see me." So, I went home and told Sue. "Who the hell is Nelson Riddle?" She said, "I've heard his name before - he's very famous." Nelson and I became very close friends. Nelson is the guy that really opened up the door for [commercial] bass trombone because he explored the horn.

What was the bass trombone scene like when you came to town?

There were two or three guys that doubled at the studios and one bass trombone player - that was it. I told Nelson I felt the horn was one of the great melodic horns in the business, but it's just never been used that way before. He said, "You must have the heart of an elephant." "Lament, sad." I said [sings], "That's not sad, that's not lament." And also pretty, like a beautiful melody. Nelson didn't agree with that at the beginning. He'd write little spurts - they could come anywhere [sings].

Just a few notes.

That's right. But they actually made my business for me, and other writers heard that and said, "Who is that?"

What is that? [laughs]

It started to expose the bass trombone. I was on NBC, ABC, CBS staff. They got writers to write hard bass trombone parts on the main themes of a lot of shows. Which means if I leave here and go to another studio they have to hire a bass trombone player to play that part, not a guy that just doubles the thing. So I set out, trying to stimulate jobs.

What were some of the shows?

Well, the "Dinah Shore Show" was a show I was on for a long time with [Conrad] Gozzo and [Mickey] Magano. And Harry Zimmer just wrote the hell out of things for me - Eddie Fisher Show, Rosie Clooney Show. Nelson wrote for a lot of those shows too. So all of a sudden, here comes the part for bass trombone - you've got to hire a bass trombone player. And I thought, "That's a good thing to do."

Oh yes!

When we started it was only Bach and Conn. Every manufacturer in the world now produces a pretty damned good bass trombone, but we didn't have that choice when I first began. Now, bass trombone, what is a bass trombone? It's a horn that drags - big animals and all that kind of stuff - that's the tradition. No, it's not! And I set out to do something about that.

Nelson did the Joy of living album with Makin' Whoopee, Life is Just a Bowl of Cherries and Bye Bye Blues. I'm playing melody, flute is playing melody and harmony, and trumpets playing melody, with strings. It's one of the first really exposed commercial things for bass trombone. It's the most listened-to album Nelson ever had. [We] broke from tradition and I think it opened the door.

Well, I don't think there's any other instrument whose place in an orchestra, particularly in commercial music, changed as much during that time period . . . [as did] bass trombone, through what you're talking about here.

The timing was right. We went into the hi-fidelity era, we went into the stereo era. All the record companies were looking for new sounds to inject into records, and stereo and all this kind of stuff. Wonderful, wonderful timing.

Who, in your opinion, were the great players?

Urbie Green affected me so much. He essentially IS New York. Urbie's a sweetheart. I think you play like what you are.

There are so many players whose personality matches what comes out of their horn.

That's exactly right. Rosolino [scats frantically] -that's what Frank was like! I can't think of any real nasty guys who ever really played anything that had a real feeling of love in it. You listen to Urbie Green, you listen to a Joe Howard, you listen to a Dick Nash, you listen to Lloyd Ulyate - oh boy! And all masters of the fundamental basics, every one of them.

So who are the top trombonists in the studios when you started out in the ‘5Os?

Lloyd Ulyate, Joe Howard, Dick Nash, Eddie Kusby, Si Zentner - all different types of players. They read great, they had great sounds and great interpretive ability.

Are there any more common threads that you could see?

I think you want to go to dates - motion picture, television, records and everything else - with a smile on your face. No hostility and anger, that kind of a thing, because that will bury you. Just sit, keep your mouth shut and play.

So something they had in common was that they could get along with people both personally and musically?

Yeah, that was their nature, and all of them were working. I remember one time the leader – tough leader – dozens of shows – I mean he's big time – and there's a fellow sitting here. He had a look. The sides of his mouth were always down. That's just his nature, a sweet guy. But he just sat there like a downer-looking guy. And all of a sudden, the leader took his guitar and he smashed it on the podium and said, "Don't you ever smile?" I thought whoops, what does that mean? Well, if he looks down and sees [negativity], down, maybe he doesn't like the way I write. Why don't you smile? If you don't want to be here, then please get up and leave – that's basically what he was saying.

It's part of your own personal PR to remember to look like you're having a good time and that you want to be there.

The town is full of [great players] – like Vince De Rosa, Dick Perissi, Henry Sigismonti, Jim Self, Tommy Johnson. There aren't any better players anywhere in the world. What a lesson to sit there every time you do a call and listen to these players!

Who are your favorite trumpet players?

Oh my goodness! Conrad Gozzo, Don Fagerquist, Shorty Sharrock. There are so many good players that everybody has a different style. I love Pete Candoli, I love Conte Candoli, I love Maynard, I love all of them.

I just rented Chinatown and heard Uan Rasey doing those wonderful, haunting...

Oh, Uan Rasey. I looked at him at that thing the other night and said, "Oh my goodness, Lynn Murray" - trumpet: Uan Rasey and bass trombone: George Roberts. That's the brass section.

And what was that on?

Lynn Murray did things like the G.E. Theater. It used to be tradition - three or four tenor trombones, that's it, period. It worked its way mound to two tenor trombones and a bass trombone, tenor trombone and bass trombone. Those were the sections!

There was one guy that I had to work for if I was going to survive in this town - Bobby Helfer. He owned this town. He did all the Alfred Newmans, Elmer Bernsteins, Henry Mancinis; all the big-time motion pictures: Oklahoma, Music Man. And he wouldn't call me. [Helfer] said [referring to George], "He's a jazzer, I can't use him." So one day the phone rings. "Mr. Roberts, this is Bobby Helfer. Be here in 45 minutes."

I opened up this big door and Bob Kraft is standing on the podium - that's lgor Stravinsky's conductor - and the L.A. Philharmonic was sitting there. And the guys at Hoyt's Garage, which you know about, had been practicing a thing for a couple of months that Stravinsky wanted to hear - an insane thing, it was so hard. Bob Kraft said, "Mr. Roberts, you have a solo with the harp at bar so-and-so." All the guys that have been practicing this stuff are sitting there and I'm going to read it dead cold. I started playing. An interruption came, a voice [Stravinsky] came out of the booth and said, "He's right [George], you're wrong [harp]. Play it with him." We got through with the thing just that quickly. The guy before me had gotten up and walked out and said, "There isn't a person in the world that can play this thing. I'm not going to sit here and be embarrassed." And he walked out of the call. He walked out on Helfer, Stravinsky and everybody else. And from that day forward I worked for Bobby Helfer every day. Isn't that the hardest way you've ever found to become a legitimate player? Woh! I didn't have time to think about it before I got to the room. If I had I may not have been able to do it. I started shaking on the way home because Helfer, Stravinsky, oh my! It really freaked me, but what that did, it legitimized me, and I'm not just a jazzer. All of a sudden, the major calls started happening.

Milt Bernhart says that in the older days of movie calls - the '30s - it was primarily the classical guys who were doing the most calls und there was a changing of the guard in the '50s with guys from the big bands. Were they using classical bass trombone players?

Sure, most of the bass trombone players, or guys that doubled on bass trombone, were more legitimately oriented than they were into jazz.

Which composers wrote well for brass?

They all, in their own way, write great for brass - Billy May, oh what a brass writer he is! Van Alexander, oh boy! Alfred Newman, Elmer Bernstein.

I've got a special story. The first motion picture I did in this town was Oklahoma at MGM. And I went out and here's Milt Bernhart and Al Anderson in the back of MGM Studio. [Milt] said, "Al, play him that part that we have to play in octaves coming up on this one thing." He said, "Okay," [impersonating Al Anderson], looking at him like my teeth almost fell out of my head -you know how Al plays. And he's doing this virtuoso thing, like, man! And I went over and I'm looking through the music. Milt Bernhart's screaming on the floor! [laughs]. They really nailed me.

In what ways is the scene different today?

You have so much electronics involved in the business today - that's a big change. There is a certain amount of displacement of acoustic players with electric. It's still hard. I think the face has changed somewhat but…I don't know that it's changed that much. There were funny little things when I first come in the business, too. I think the most important thing is that you keep your mouth shut. I know a young fellow that come in here from a very uptown music place - a damn good bass trombone player - and went down to the Union. They have a lot of rehearsal bands. One of the key bass trombone players in this town was in this band playing a very hard solo. This kid went up to him and said, "I can do that." The guy says, "Really?" They blackballed him. His mouth blew it.

All that Dick Nash stuff with Mancini?

Yeah, great. They each had their own little things. The players had all kinds of different backgrounds. They came from a million different places.

One thing about the scene here is that people aren't divided info the specific jazz and classical camps - our music here really requires that you be able to do all of it.

If you want to survive you're going to do all of it. If you say, well, I don't want to play that style of music, I don't like that, I just like this and this is all I'm going to do, you probably are going to starve to death. So are you going to tell the leader, "Well, I'm not going to play this ‘cause I don't like it"? You're out of your mind!

You learn to find something good in whatever you're playing and to play it like you love it.

If you think positive and you're happy about what you do and you love what you do, the right things are going to happen.

That story I told at your dinner was the best advice I ever got. Shut your mouth, play great, smile a lot, and listen.

Your percentages are better, it's a simple as that.

With Urbie, you said, can I compete with this? Well if I can't, how do I highlight my strengths to do something that will find a niche for me?

If I am not honest with myself, Mike, then I am my own worst enemy. If you don't know, if you listen to Urbie Green or Bill Watrous or that kind of a player. You listen to Lloyd, you listen to Rick May, Chauncey Welsch!

I love being a musician. It's all I've ever done all my life. I had great support from my parents, a wonderful wife. The right things have been with me all my life. I've been very lucky that way. We're all here such a short time we may as well be happy, or think right, feel good about things, be nice. Don't put other people down.

Can you speak to any of the changes that may have happened decade to decade in the business?

Hoyt [Bohannon] was one of the first ones to come out after being on staff for a long time, a freelance player. That was part of my feeling, not being on staff at NBC, for that's your career, CBS, being on a staff job eventually, or even like a "Tonight Show" style and that's what you do. What if that folds? Essentially, you could be out of the business because everybody else has already got other stuff locked up. A freelance player needs to play everything. All the different kinds of things. One day you do Alfred Newman, the next day you do Oklahoma - all kinds of different styles. You need to do it all so you can do all of the work. If you don't do it, just say, "I'm a jazzer and I'm not going to do anything else." Well then, you're going to starve to death.

Now, you said that you had some staff jobs?

NBC was for about five years. I had about 12 - l6 shows in that period of time that I did. And I kept thinking to myself that I shouldn't be here. I should be free, a freelance player. I'm doing a little bit of everything so that if one thing falls the other is working. That to me is a psychology of today's business. You know yourself, you have a family - very difficult. You'll get all your work from your friends. Bob Fitzpatrick and Milt Bernhart got me on Kenton's band.

So, which players do you like today?

I still like Urbie. Chauncey Welsch is a wonderful trombone player. I've seen him involved in so many different situations. He always comes flying out of them. Lloyd Ulyate is my dear old friend. We just did 100 Trombones in Japan - Lloyd and I and Harry Betts, my old buddy - wrote Star Wars and Porgy and Bess. Wow!

You're a very special young man. I have to tell you that when you played Josephine the other day I said, "I will see to it that this kid never works in this town!" [laughs]. With Japan I'm glad they call me now because I think I appreciate it more. I've never met anybody that I have ever liked any more than those hundred Japanese trombone players. They were absolutely wonderful and they are my friends. I'm thrilled to death, I always am, when somebody sits down and wants to talk. The young people I hope will be with me all my life.

One thing I always love about Los Angeles is that there is that older generation of players. Younger people really need to talk to the guys with the knowledge, because the things we're doing as players, we didn't just invent. There's been a whole history of how to play instruments. We've all built on what the past was before us.

Well, a key to success is to have big ears and a closed mouth. That's the key, it is. Always has been. Wear a smile. At least you've got a chance.

Michael Millar has been a freelance bass trombonist in Los Angeles since 1978. Active in jingle, film and television work, he has toured with the late Harry James, Jerry Lewis and Ray Conniff. His teachers have included George Roberts, Jeff Reynolds, Roy Main and Bill Richardson. He is a DMA candidate at Claremont Graduate University.

Interview transcription by Julie Compton.