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About drumming
I had my first lesson at age 8 in Mt Vernon, NY, where I grew up. 20 minutes by train from Grand Central Station. Rhythms were in the air. Lucky for me and a bunch of others, the city school system ran a program called Summer Band School. It was like a musical day camp. 5 days a week you took instruction on the instrument(s) of your choice at any level and then worked with others in an ensemble; band, orchestra or choir. In between your classes you played ping pong or knock hockey or checkers. It was great.
By my third year I was reading drum music at a grade 3 level; pretty good for a 10 year old. And I was tearing up at least half the rudiments. I may have been a better reader then than I am now. With newspaper boy money I purchased a Gretsch gold sparkle snare and a Gretsch hi hat pedal with 14" K Zildjians. I could not believe how expensive cymbals were. The set of K's cost like 40 something bucks! About the time I turned 11, I started private lessons with Phil Greiss in Tuckahoe, NY. He was a star pupil of Fred Albright who wrote probably the most difficult snare drum music of his time. Phil worked me up to level 6 reading; as hard as it gets. I wouldn't
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| Jon gives his Ludwigs a soft workout in the apartment where he grew up in Mt Vernon, NY. Moments later, Mrs Wasserman in apt 520 started banging on her ceiling with a broom handle. |
know what to do if I saw that stuff today. But it was a great
foundation. Phil also started me on trap set fundamentals and four way coordination. They
say that stuff is easier to learn the younger you are. I believe it's difficult at any
age. And I'm basically lazy...don't like to practice alot. But the more effort you put in,
the more you get out. And every now and then a breakthrough happens and you're transported
up a level. Like the time I learned to play a really clean open 5-stroke roll with an
accent on the last beat. Or two against three. I almost drove the family and neighbors
crazy walking around banging two against three on everything in sight. I needed a drum set
bad. Everyone said "Manny's is the place to go." And some said, "Talk to
Danny, he's the drum guy at Manny's." One day my dad had to file papers in court in
Manhattan or Brooklyn (I can't recall) and he asked me if I wanted to tag along and maybe
we could visit Manny's. Oh man! The promised land! West 48th Street...musical row. This
was the
summer of '65 and Manny's was then a small storefront, but quite long. It
was like the longest railroad car. The walls were plastered with autographed pictures of
famous musicians and singers. Lots of Gene Krupa and Buddy Rich, Frank Sinatra and Mel
Torme kinda stuff. And more horn players than you could count. There was mostly sheet
music on the ground floor; not a drum in sight. I started to get antsy. Then we met Danny.
The messiah. The key to my dreams. We introduced ourselves and started listing all the
people who had sent us, when Danny interrupts and says, "Margolis? Any relation to
Rabbi Margolis?" My dad says, "Yeah that was my father." And Danny says,
"He married me and my wife...a great guy. What can I do for you?" At this point
fireworks are going off in my head and there are pots of gold stacked up against the musty
walls of Manny's Music on West 48th. Danny took us upstairs to the second or third floor
where the
re were stacks of Ludwig drum sets.
I told him my favorite drummer was Joe Morello and he steered me to a silver sparkle job;
14x20 bass, 9x13 and 16x16 toms, and a 5x14 supraphonic snare. My god, this was almost
exactly like Joe's set. And since we shared the same initials, I cold put a keystone with
a 'JM' on the front of my bass drum and be just like Joe. Then harsh reality set in. I
couldn't afford a drum set and it was probably out of the reach of my old man too. That's
when he did one of the more surprising things in my life and asked, "Would you like
it?" BAM! Dad negotiated with Danny in a corner while I stared at MY cool new stack
of Ludwigs and a bunch of hard shell cases next to them that had stencilled: RINGO
STARR The Beatles. I'm thinking to myself, man rock music is so big they're
selling cases with Ringo's name on them. Why would anyone buy that. Well they wouldn't; I
found out years later those were Ringo's drums. He stored them there in between Ed
Sullivan shows and gigantic concerts in the US. They rubbed shoulders with my first set of
drums. The negotiations were done, but I couldn't take the drums because the bass drum
disappearing spurs had yet to be installed (Manny's installed two sets in those days; 4
spurs to keep the drum from rocking). So I couldn't have the drums for another 3-5 days.
The longest wait of my life.
More to come about gear, gigging, people and places...someday
to check out some of my beauteous drums click