I recently lost my BFF

TO: THE BEATTY FAMILY

FROM: Alan Abel

RE: Memories of the late and great Norman Beatty

     Norm Beatty and I grew up in Coshocton,OH, a small town with 12,000 people and the population never changed over the years.  The Mayor always explained this phenomenon: “Because every time a baby is born somebody leaves town.”

     Norm’s dad, Giovanni Baietti, gave music lessons from his house, Mrs. Baietti played standup bass, daughter Velma the cello and son Albert, the oboe and bass drum in the concert band. Norm was an outstanding trumpet player. He and I both banded and bonded throughout our school years. 

     We played together in his father’s summer concerts on the court square bandstand. After each concert we received either an ice cream bar or a bottle of “pop.” Mr. Baietti also formed the Coshocton Symphony Orchestra. His entire family were members, other musicians were recruited from the Columbus and Cleveland orchestras. There were four concerts a year on the stage of the 6^th Street Theater.

     The concerts were always sold out (400 people) and the 55 member orchestra played the standard classics. After the “1812 Overture”ended, the sheriff kept firing his blank pistol shots into the barrel….for cannon shot sounds….although I was waving him to stop. But he kept reloading and firing. Later we learned he had a glass eye and was hard of hearing.

     During high school Norm was always the lead trumpet player in all the musical ensembles in town. We had a dance band together….The Alan Paul Orchestra…..and played stock arrangements for school proms, dances at the Masonic Temple and at Lake Park Pavillon for summer dances. We had 3 trumpets, two trombones, 5 saxes and three rhythm.

    I always played drums and both Norm and I occasionally joined Pop Farver’s Hill Billy Band from Spring Mountain. We played square dances at Camp Gay Time, a CW dance hall about 2 miles from town. Pop had a family band: bass, accordian, violin, alto sax and clarinet.  Also Virge Lose on banjo who also drove the Owl Car from town to Camp Gay Time for young lovers. It was a beat up Ford with shades on the windows.

     Norm’s mother and father operated an Italian Restaurant, the Arcade, that was very popular for its great home cooked dishes. We ate there many times before a concert or dance with our band.

     Giovanni Baietti maintained his name, later changing to Jack Beatty. He could never obtain the high school band leader’s job because he lacked a college degree in music. But that didn’t ever stop him from teaching privately and leading the summer concert band and the symphony orchestra. Later in his life he did manage to obtain the band leader’s job at Cambridge High School.

     Every August, during summers in high school, Norm and I would spend that month in Columbus with the 300 member All Ohio State Fair Band. His father was one of eight assistant directors. Norm was brilliant as soloist playing “Carnival of Venice.” Dr. Louis E. Pete from Ashland conducted.

     During the month before graduation from C.H.S., May 1942, the school band was scheduled to play a concert for parents and others in the H.S. auditorium. Harold LeFever, the conductor, was a mild mannered person with limited talents conducting. He always had his head buried in the scores and seemed to get lost.

     A day before the final concert I learned that Tommy Dorsey’s Band would be playing a one night stand at Meyers Ballroom in Canton, about an hour away, the same night as our concert. They were featuring Ziggy Elman on trumpet and Buddy Rich on drums.

     I suggested to Norm and Frank Grandle, our lead alto sax and stellar clarinetist with the Alan Paul Band, that we skip the concert and go hear the Tommy Dorsey’Band. At first they were reluctant to  play hookey but finally agreed. We didn’t tell anyone, not even our parents. Next day I drove to Canton and we stood by the bandstand in the packed ballroom for three solid hours of great big band sounds.

     Meantime, at CHS there was a full house for the 8 pm concert. But no lead trumpet, no solo clarinet  and no solo drummer (for the stirring medley of Armed Service Marches with drum cadences and roll offs in between). Conductor LeFever was tearing out his few strands of hair on a nearly bald head. Lewis Bucklew, the other snare drummer, was heaving in the men’s room, realizing he had to play the solo parts.

     Our respective parents were worried at first; but some “whistle blower” told them where we were, and wouldn’t be playing the concert. They were all shocked of course, but sat through the concert that went on without us and seemed to play most of the wrong notes, so we heard the next day.

     Then we three traitors were called into the Principal’s office. Mr. Povenmirer sat there stone faced and was soon joined by Supt. Of Schools A.C. Pence and band leader Harold LeFever. They were  all furious and lambasted us royally. We were punished by being denied a listing in the National Honor Society.

     Norm’s parents were not terribly annoyed because they were ostracized by the school anyhow. My parents and Frank’s just expressed their dismay over attending the concert and we weren’t there to play.

But our euphoria over the experience close up in front of the Tommy Dorsey Band for three solid hours was the envy of many from the CHS band.

     Shortly after graduation from CHS Norm joined the Russ Carlyle Band from Cleveland,OH and went on tour through New England. The war draft was in full effect then and most of our CHS graduates enlisted so they  could choose their branch of service. In July 1942 I received a phone call from Norm in Fall River, MA. Their drummer was being drafted in a few days and he persuaded Russ Carlyle to hire me.

     I was on the train with my drums the next day for Fall River and fit right in the 14 piece band. Norm and I roomed together and spent the next six months on the road from the East Coast to the West Coast doing one nighters. We traveled in three cars and a panel truck with instruments, driven by the band manager.

     Between engagements we had rest stops at diners and gas stations. At least once a month we would be driving along and suddenly the lead car would stop. “Where is Norman?” He had been left behind, busy doing his toilet duty and then combing his hair. One car would back track to pick him up, always standing forlornly on the side of the road.

     At the end of the six month tour I resigned to return home and enter Ohio State University, as I promised my parents I would. Norm stayed on with the band until he was drafted a few months later. I was tapped for service in April 1943 and sent to Atlantic City for basic training, then joined the Glenn Miller Band there, followed by the Sgt. David Rose Orchestra playing for Moss Hart’s “Winged Victory” AAF Show on Broadway.

     Norm and I kept in touch by mail as he joined an army band and I tried unsuccessfully to get him transferred to the Winged Victory Orchestra. But conductor Rose said that such a transfer from army to air force was  complicated and a political situation. It just wasn’t going to happen.

     When Winged Victory completed its run in NYC and a tour of major cities, I ended up with a small band of musicians on Okinawa in September of 1945. Much to my surprise I learned that Norm was stationed on the island with an army band near Naha, the capital.

     Since I had access to a Jeep, I planned to drive down to his band and surprise him with a case of beer(24 bottles). I had managed to have a friend in Los Angeles send them to me.  A friend at the Officers’ Club gave me a special code number for flying the case over, but it had to be labeled: CHRISTMAS MUSIC FOR THE BAND. RUSH DELIVERY>

     I received a phone call from the nearby postal office advising me that the box arrived. When I told the postal clerk I would pick it up soon, he said, “You better hurry. It’s leaking.”  Sure enough one of the bottles had broken and an extra bottle was the clerk’s reward for not reporting me.

     When I showed up with the beer Norm and his fellow musicians were ecstatic. There were 20 guys drinking their first beer in months and  Norm and I were dancing around like kids.   

      Subsequently, over the years, including 1978 when I returned to the Radio City Music Hall Orchestra, Norm never forgot that magic day on Okinawa as I delivered the beer to him and his buddies. He claimed it was one of the best days in his life, along with marrying Claire and having three talented children.

     So this will not conclude my memories of Norman Beatty. I will always remember them and my love for the guy. Through all the one nighters on the road as roommates and playing at RCMH, we never had a cross word between us. Rest in peace, Norm.