Good feelings

The rest of our web site is all business, but this part is about the good feelings we have making music. Playing music is a lot of fun, and that's the real reason we do what we do. Sure, it's nice to earn a living, but if weren't for the sheer enjoyment, the thrill of feeling the beat and seeing people's happy faces as we make our music, we might as well all be accountants. In fact, a couple of us are accountants in our day jobs, but that's another story.

The picture is from an incredibly cold outdoor gig, by the way. It was New Year's Eve 2000 at Old School Square in Delray Beach. At least the bitter cold (38 degrees! In Florida!) gave me a good excuse to wear that hat. Vocalist Tom Willis seems to be having fun despite the cold. Guitarist Harry Hafferkamp brought a space heater (what a guy) and we took a short break every few minutes just to thaw our hands at the little electric fire. The people danced and had a great time, and somehow we survived.

Click images to enlarge.

Two left feet

One time a bride and groom cooked up a treat for their guests at a big reception at the ritzy Biltmore Hotel in Coral Gables. The groom was known to one and all as a guy with two left feet. In fact, none of the men in his family had ever been known to dance. So this couple secretly took dance lessons and learned real swing dancing just so they could do a special routine for the first dance at their wedding reception.

At the appointed time, we started in with "Close to You," the Carpenters ballad, and they began to slow-dance while their family and friends stood around the dance floor. Suddenly the groom shouted, "That's too slow, come on, pick it up." I gave him some backchat (by pre-arrangement) and the guests began to wonder what in the world was going on. I cued our drummer to start the intro to "Sing, Sing, Sing," the Benny Goodman classic. The couple began to jitterbug and after a shocked moment or two, the crowd began to cheer them on. The band responded with real energy and by the end of the number, the excitement in the room was intense. Talk about fun! I'm indebted to that couple for having such a wonderful idea, and their guests will never forget seeing the so-called klutz doing a pretty good impression of Fred Astaire on the dance floor. This audio came from the actual performance at their wedding, recorded by our guitarist using a single mic to mini-disc.

Breezin' along

It was nothing so dramatic, but I remember a moment years ago when drummer Larry Ruda and I were playing as a duo under a tent for an afternoon real estate promotion. People sipped champagne and munched sandwiches, the sun was shining but it wasn't too hot, and there was a pleasant breeze as we looked out over a small lake. Our music was just floating along with a smooth rhythm when I turned to Larry and blurted out, "This is so much fun, I wish I was here!" We both laughed and kept on playing, and I knew the secret was that to be able to enjoy making such good music in such delightful surroundings is to be "here" indeed.

In love with Amy

Another wedding story. A couple from Los Angeles had their reception at the Breakers in Palm Beach, so the arrangements were mostly made long-distance. They met us once here in Florida, and at the end of the meeting, the groom took me aside and whispered his plan to sing to his bride at the reception. Her name was Amy, and he was to do "Once in Love With Amy."

I found the sheet music, recorded a piano accompaniment and mailed it to him at his office, where he rehearsed secretly whenever he had the chance. The reception went beautifully, with my chamber music group for the ceremony and cocktails, and then my six-piece band for the reception. The toast had been offered when up comes the groom and we began the lilting introduction to his song. He sang it like a champ, I don't know how he even got through it. The love was palpable and there was not a dry eye in the house by the time he finished. His Amy was a lucky one indeed, and you could tell she knew it. What a great privilege to be part of such a moment.

Fun with Dad

My late father and I had a lot of fun making music together. Vic Knight was a beloved bandleader, and I wish I had a nickel for every person who ever came up to me and said, "I'm a friend of your father's." Dad had the gift of making people feel he was their friend, and he also had a gift for making music fun.

We did a bunch of Dixieland jazz dates at the old Cypress Manor restaurant in Boynton Beach. Dad would have Dick Oakley do his trick where he would play two trumpets at once. He'd have Frankie DeFranco do stop-time choruses on his clarinet on "Basin Street Blues." He'd kid the bassist by talking over his solos, and he'd give me the business as well.

Dad loved to sing. He was no Caruso, but he had personality and could really sell a lyric. He did "Hard Hearted Hannah" and had a special way of introducing it which involved the pianist (me). The first time we tried it at Cypress Manor, nothing I did seemed to be right. He kept correcting me as the crowd laughed, and I kept trying harder to play the chords on the right beat. Suddenly I realized he was kidding me and we had a good laugh. We did that tune many times after that and I always enjoyed the goofing around.

Some of my fondest memories are of playing piano with Dad's big band. I had my own groups, too, but when my schedule would allow it, we'd work together. It was the greatest big band in the area, no question. Dad had the best musicians and the best book of arrangements, which I'm lucky enough to have now as part of his legacy to me. Anyway, Dad loved a big entrance. He liked to have the rhythm section start a vamp, really trucking right along, and only have the band come in when he was good and ready. To open the Dixieland dates we used "I Can't Give You Anything But Love" in a blistering tempo, but for the big band, he liked "All Right, Okay, You Win," which is a solid hard-driving shuffle but not too fast.

So we're at Erny's, the legendary Delray Beach restaurant and jazz club that is sadly now only a memory. Dad's big band is in place, looking sharp, and I count off "All Right, Okay" from behind the piano. We start the rhythm vamp and I begin to introduce him. Except the vamp goes on and on, and so does my introduction, and I'm quoting from Howard Cosell's over-the-top introduction of Frank Sinatra at Madison Square Garden from the album, "The Main Event." By the time Dad was finally able to get me to shut up so he could take over, the band was laughing out loud. We made some great music that night, believe me.

One more thing from Dad's band. His closing medley centered around Lionel Hampton's "Flying Home," and it winds up with "Woodchopper's Ball." There's a place where the clarinet plays and the guys in the band chant in response. Sometimes musicians resent being asked to sing, but you never have to beg the guys to do this particular routine. They shout it right out and it sounds great, even though some of the guys are not especially good singers. Dad died in 2000, but we still do the closing medley on every big band gig. The spirit comes through loud and clear, and every time I hear the glee club bit, I think of Dad, and all the fun times we had together both on and off the bandstand.

Memory lane

In no particular order, here are some photos that bring back memories. Click any image to enlarge.

From 2001, the Dixie Ramblers are about to lead a wedding procession in real New Orleans style, from a condominium on A1A in Delray Beach to the Colony Cabana Club, about 200 yards up the road. Ed DeMatteo (tuba),  Pat Riley (banjo), Doug Smith (trumpet).

At right, ten musicians for a photo shoot to promote the New Year's Eve gig pictured at top. We're all more or less awake despite the hour, 10:00 o'clock on a Saturday morning. Photo courtesy of Randy Ely.

When my group plays for Oktoberfest, we call ourselves the Happy Wanderers. Yes, that's me in the lederhosen behind the keyboard, with some jolly fellows on trumpet, accordion and tuba.

At right, the orchestra circa 1980 at the Delray Beach Club. L-R: Mike Rossi, Richie Conn, Dan Pooley, Ted Knight, Dwane Earnhardt, Will Hanson. At least I think that's Dwane, hard to be sure behind all the shrubbery. Mike was fresh out of high school in Boca Raton at the time. Now he's a professor, author, and classical and jazz saxophone concert artist based in South Africa.

Dad loved vocal groups. He knew the Four Freshmen from college days, when they were all music students at Butler University in Indianapolis. When he got his own radio station he made sure played the Hi-Los, Mel Torme and the Mel-Tones, the Anita Kerr Singers, and so forth.

Dad featured a vocal group with his band called the No-Name Jive Singers. At left, the group at Delray Dunes Country Club, probably around 1996. L-R: Doug Smith, Vic Knight, Dwane Earnhardt, Glen Rovinelli.

At right, my band relaxes for a moment during a photo shoot at the Country Club of Florida at the Village of Golf, around 6:00 PM on a Monday in July, 2006. They look pretty cool despite the brutal South Florida summer heat. In front (L-R), Ray Oram, Paul Magersuppe, Bob Hanni, Evelyn Russell, Mike Burns, Dave Gibble. In back, Kevin Campfield and Glen Rovinelli Thanks to photographer Sandy McPherson for capturing this. It's a fitting bookend to go with the formal pose on the home page.

If you're a musician and would like to contribute a "good times" anecdote, please email me. Be sure and send pictures if you can. Let's share our fun, and not keep it a secret.

Ted Knight