Music

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Happy Craig Day!

Those who know me personally or have been following me the past several years know that I celebrate the first week of December as a memorial to my late, great big brother Craig, who passed away at age 49 in 2002.

Craig was born on Dec. 4 and died on Dec. 6 — much too soon — of colon cancer. Now, it has been 18 years and I can hardly believe it.

Craig Ward Playing Bass
Craig LOVED Music!

We grew up in Kansas, and at the time, you could drink 3.2% beer (or tavern beer as opposed to 5% beer from liquor stores) and buy cigarettes at age 18. To really make myself feel old, I’ll tell you that Craig and I could buy a six-pack of beer and a pack of cigarettes for $5.00 and havea great Saturday night! Ahhh those were the days.

But Craig is gone now, beer and cigarettes are expensive, and I’ve quit both vices over the years. Yes, the times change.

One strong bond Craig and I had was music. Being two years (and a few months) older, he led the way. He was a music fan from an early age, and the early 60s were the golden years of American pop music.

It was also the era when transistor radios were relatively new, but the prices had gone down. He had a small radio that would fit in his shirt pocket and with an ear bud (music was all mono, not stereo), he could listen music any time he wanted.

Craig carried the local paper after school, and while walking his route, he had his radio plugged into his ear.

One sweet old lady on his route knew our grandmother, and told her, “It’s a shame that someone so young has to wear a hearing aid.” Such innocent times we lived in.

Of course, if Craig got interested in something, then I got dragged in (or went willingly most of the time). We talked music a lot, bought the magazines like Hit Parader that printed the lyrics (with horrible typos), and we bought records — 45 RPM singles.

Most songs were called by the first line of the lyrics, even if that wasn’t the title. For example, it’s Christmas season now, and everyone knows “Chestnuts Roasting On An Open Fire.” But that’s not really the title of the song — it’s “The Christmas Song” (creative, huh?).

Craig had a wacky sense of humor, so he would refer to songs by some lyrics that might be deeply buried within the song. Usually I knew what he was talking about. But he would really try to stump me by calling a tune by an obscure rhyme in the last verse. When we started playing guitars, he’d say something like, “Let’s do ‘Loudmouth Yankee.'” I knew he meant the Monkees ‘song “What Am I Doing Hanging ‘Round” that started out with the lyrics:

“Just a loud-mouthed Yankee, I went down to Mexico.”

He could get a laugh out of me by doing something silly — like calling the Elvis Presley song “All Shook Up” by the title “Itching Like A Bug On A Fuzzy Tree.”

With all the transitions in his life, there was always music as a constant. I believe I got my love of music genetically, but it was one of the very strong bonds I had with my brother.

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In a rare event, one that could happen only once in every millenium, two insignificant celestial objects colided. That happens often, but this time, it kindled a massive celestial event that shaped the world as we know it.

A young vaudeville wannabe named Joey was going nowhere with his act — a pantomime accompanied by records. He was able to get jobs on the theater circuit in the days before motion pictures put the live stage out of business, but it was a meager living.

Another show-biz climber named Dino had trouble holding a job — the bandleaders said he was too derivative and he needed to get a nose job if he wanted to be serious.

They met while both were on the bill at one of the minor mob-owned clubs in Atlantic City in 1945. The owner wasn’t happy with either one and threatened to fire them if the late show that evening didn’t get better attendance.

Joey went to Dean and proposed that they disrupt the program — they had nothing to lose. So when Dino went out to sing, Joey acted like one of the club’s waiters and caused a commotion by dropping plates and breaking glasses. Dino acted angry and told him to get out and quit disturbing the audience. Joey heckled the singer, the singer heckled back — and the audience loved it.

The pair repeated the orchestrated fiasco three times a night at the club, and word got out that this was the place to go. There were long lines of people waiting to get in. The pair got offers to play other places for more money.

Dino got his nose job. Joey Levitch changed his name to Jerry Lewis — and the rest is history.

For ten years, Martin and Lewis were the top act in show biz. They made movies, they made records, they played sold out performances, they made money — hoo boy did they make a lot of money!

And then, for whatever reasons, they parted — and not on the best of terms.

Then, the world waited to see if either of them could make it alone. Was the singer good enough to compete without the comic?

And the surprise ending to the story is — the comic actually had a gold record before the singer did. The comic’s next movies — basically the same formula with different actors — were successful and the singer’s next movies were flops.

The surprise success of the comic’s singing career depended upon the fragile superstar Judy Garland. Garland had to cancel a performance in Las Vegas (reportedly because of strep throat), and her husband/manager Sid Luft asked Jerry to fill in. Legend has it that 30 year old Jerry — who hadn’t sung alone onstage since he was 5 years old — didn’t know what he could do at the last minute, so he asked what songs Judy was going to sing that night. One was the standard “Rock-A-Bye Your Baby” made famous by Al Jolson — who was Jerry’s idol. They orchestra had the arrangement and was well rehearsed, so Jerry said he’d do that song (he also did “Come Rain Or Come Shine” – a Johnny Mercer/Harold Arlen hit).

Jerry hit the stage, and schmaltzed it up — did his impersonation of Jolie — and the crowd went wild. He told jokes of course, but the musical performance was such a hit that he got an offer to put it out as a record — and that is what launched his solo career.

Meanwhile, Dino was getting buried by the critics for the flop of his first post-Jerry movie, “10,000 Bedrooms” and worse — the movie lost over a million dollars (steep in those days).

But neither success nor failure can erase the historical significance of Martin and Lewis — alone or together.

Jerry’s main contribution to the world was his tireless devotion the the Muscular Dystrophy campaign — which brings us to the reason for this essay:

Another Labor Day without Jerry Lewis is so sad for those of us who grew up catching snatches of his marathon telethon. Fortunately highlights survive and can be easily accessed online. The schmaltz of Jerry Lewis survives — as do his movies and recordings.

Frank Sinatra surprises Jerry by bringing Dino onstage at the telethon 20 years after they split.

For that, we are thankful. And for Labor Day — so sorry, you have to get along without Jer.

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And so we say “Farewell” to Craig Week for another year.

Although his life was cut short, Craig lived it to the fullest.  I believe he accomplished everything he ever wanted.

When he was young, he went through phases like everyone else.  In Jr. High he wanted to be a Hell’s Angel. He read the Hunter Thompson book and became fascinated with the lifestyle it portrayed — outlaw rebellion that suited a teenager in the 60s.  But he never bought a motorcycle and I don’t believe he ever learned to ride one.

Likewise, he was wild about tattoos — from the Hell’s Angels age through when he owned a tavern with a magazine stand and got all of the motorcycle and tattoo magazines they offered.  But he never did get around to getting a tattoo.

He wanted to be a truck driver, and starting during the CB radio craze of the late 70s, he went overboard (as he did with all of his passions), erecting an antenna tower at our home and establishing a base station, making sure all of our family cars (mine, Dad’s and his) had radios and we all used them (with proper “handles” or code names).  Even Bart Ward, who was too young to drive, had a CB handle and new how to use the radio.

He finally went to driving school in the early 80s and became an over the road trucker — which he romanticized as a “knight of the road.”  That spilled over into his love of movies and videos and music. 

Yes, his main dream was to be a music man — and that he did.  From his early days in elementary school during the “British Invasion” led by the Beatles, he dreamed of being in a band, and he even assembled a few — before he knew how to play an instrument.

But he did learn and became a professional musician, starting the Legend-In-Their-Own-Mind country rock group, The Bunk House Boys. He bought music equipment, including many guitars and basses, and sound systems, and even a tour bus.  More than that, he guided his brothers into making music and buying MORE guitars.

He also found true love with his wife Joy, and spent the last years of his life with her. After marrying Craig, Joy also went to truck driving school and they became a driving team, crossing the country in every direction from their home base in Wichita.

They were able to buy a wonderful house together, and when they decided that life on the road didn’t fulfill everything they wanted, They bought an Old-Time-Photo business in historic Old Town Wichita.  He proclaimed himself Col. Ward, and then turned his love of Western lore and history to historical re-creation and re-enactments.

Although his last couple of years were not comfortable, he seemed to find peace in the face of death.

As his younger brother, I can truly say that Craig taught me all about life and how to get the most out of it — and he also taught me that when death is inevitable, the best thing you can do is die with dignity.

And now, maybe you understand what a marvelous fellow he was, and why the ones he left behind cherish and celebrate his memory.

To quote a song from his favorite band, The Eagles:

I once knew a man, very talented guy He’d sing for the people and people would cry They knew that his song came from deep down inside You could hear it in his voice and see it in his eyes

And so he traveled along, touch your heart, then be gone Like a flower, he bloomed till that old hickory wind Called him home

My man’s got it made He’s gone far beyond the pain And we who must remain go on living just the same We who must remain go on laughing just the same.

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Wade Ward

This originally appeared September 22, 2016 on Facebook ·

Today is the International Day of Peace.

I grew up in the Beatles generation, and I thought the world was coming to an end in 1969 — not because of the Viet Nam War, but because the Beatles announced they were breaking up!

Fortunately, the music didn’t stop. Especially John Lennon (and — yes, you have to include Yoko) who tirelessly campaigned for Peace and Love. “Give Peace A Chance” and “Imagine” and “War is Over If You Want It (And So This Is Christmas”), the “Bed-In” in Toronto.

But reality is not kind — there has never been a cessation of war.

I learned a Christmas song when very young — “I Heard The Bells On Christmas Day” and the last verse is so melancholy.

And in despair I bowed my head,
There is no peace on Earth, I said
For Hate is strong and Mocks the song
Of Peace on Earth, Good Will To Men.

Happy International Day of Peace.

Let’s all try to get along.

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Happy Valentine’s Day, Lovers!

This is either the happiest day or the saddest day of the year, depending upon the state of your love life.  As a happily married man, I’ve enjoyed a permanent valentine for twenty years and we tend to celebrate any old time we please.  It works out well.

Songwriters Richard Rodgers and Lorenz Hart

Richard Rodgers and Lorenz Hart

As music lovers, my valentine and I are both great fans of the Great American Songbook standard “My Funny Valentine” — a show tune from the 1937 Richard Rodgers and Lorenz Hart musical “Babes in Arms.”

I’m sure you’ve heard it.  This popular jazz standard has appeared on over 1300 albums performed by over 600 artists. It’s even been performed on “American Idol,” so even the Gen-X, Y or Z kids should know it.

Whether your favorite version is traditional (like Ella Fitzgerald or Frank Sinatra) or jazzy (like Miles Davis or Chet Baker), you can probably find a version to suit your mood.

Name your favorite performer, and chances are, you’ll find a recording of this song. Michael Bublé?  Too easy.  Jerry Garcia?  Believe it or not — YES.

The perennial song was written by Richard Rodgers and Lorenz Hart.  Of course the music is absolutely beautiful, but the lyrics make this the ultimate valentine song.

Read more on The Most Popular Valentine Song EVER!…

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This time of year is full of holidays and reasons to party and be glad.  But for me it  is also a time of reflection — thinking of those I’ve lost and that won’t be partying with me on any of these holidays.

Two close dates mark the beginning and the end of my big brother’s life — bookends that are too close together.

Craig was born on Dec. 4 and died on Dec. 6 — 49 years apart.

It sounds silly to say that we were very close, but I’ve found that not all brothers are.  Craig was very special and he made his two brothers feel very special.  The relationship he had with me was different than the relationship he had with our little brother, Bart, but they were both very strong and special in different ways.

One of the things we three brothers shared was a magical, musical time in the mid-1970s when we played music together professionally.  Looking back, it was a very brief period. But duration really isn’t relevant.  It was magic.

Unfortunately, I don’t think many — if any — recordings survive from that musical partnership.  And I know there aren’t a lot of photos.

I’m starting a special page on this web site to reminisce about my late brother Craig, and am framing it against the backdrop of his — our — musical journey.

I’d like to invite anyone who knew him, or anyone who experienced our music, or just those who are kindred spirits to post comments, photos or whatever else you’d like to share.

WADE

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I filed my first copyright in 1978 and am now able to do so electronically.  It’s not just vanity.  I work at trying to get my songs recorded, licensed or somehow making money for me.

Along the way, I’ve taken an interest in the business side of music.  Frankly, if any musician is serious, I think this is a necessity.

Attorney and pianist Janie Gust has the first of a two-part series Who Owns the Song? Intellectual Property and the Musician (Part I)

and her personal web site is http://www.chez-janie.com/

WADE

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If you don’t know music theory and the formula for telling the key signature of a song by the number of flats and sharps in it — here is a SNEAKY MUSICIAN’S TRICK (one in a long series — collect them all).

This works for MOST songs — there will always be exceptions.  But I’d say at least 90% or 95% or maybe even 99% will follow this rule.

Read more on How To Know Which Key A Song Is In…

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I’d vaguely heard of musical modes but didn’t know much about them until I decided to take some brush-up piano lessons a few years ago.

My teacher was a retired rocker from the 60s who had modest success and was enjoying his life of relaxation in a California beach resort town where my wife and I were staying.

As I got more educated in modes, I also got more interested in Jazz music.  I’d never understood where a lot of it came from or where it was going until I got modal.

If you want to stick your toe in the water, there is a great two-part series at ultimateguitar.com

Take a peek and see if it can help you awaken some creative juices in your playing or songwriting.

WADE

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