Mensch

Are you lucky enough to know Lou Magor?  Superb musician, Northwestern graduate, Camp Ojibwa counselor and music director, music teacher, organist, twenty-five year Seattle transplant and co-choir director for the Wilson Sisters of Heart.

And guiding light and compère at Kenyon Hall–  a vintage music hall located in West Seattle.

By age six, Lou’s piano-playing prowess had made him the toast of Auburn, Nebraska.  And he’s been capturing people’s ears and affections ever since.

I “inherited” him from my brother Kenny.  Their paths had crossed in Eagle River, Wisconsin.  Lou had been the music director at beloved Camp Ojibwa.

And although Lou’s travels took him far from the Midwest- first to San Francisco and then on to Seattle- he and Kenny had kept in touch over these many years.

Kenny saw Lou out there.  Lou saw Kenny when he was here.  And they both spent time together up at camp last summer.

Back Story Sidebar: If you missed last Sunday’s post, Sleepless in Seattle, I have just returned from a flying visit to the Emerald City. Home of Amazon, Microsoft, Starbucks, and now my son Nick.

When Kenny heard that Nick was moving to Seattle, the first thing he said to me was, “He’s got to meet Lou.  He’s the greatest guy and he will be a nice resource if Nick has any questions.  And he’s wired into the art scene there.  I know Missy should meet him, too.”

“Do you think he would bother with Nick?  He sounds busy,” I said.

“I’ll shoot him an email.”

Within ten minutes Kenny had forwarded on Lou’s (very) kind email graciously offering help to in any way he could.

And when Lou found out that I was going to be there for a quick visit, he extended a wonderful invitation for us to be his guests at Kenyon Hall’s Saturday night show.

With dinner thrown in afterward.

How nice was that?

I emailed our eager acceptance right away.

Just for the heck of it, I checked the website to see what band would headline that night.  Some very big names play that venue, and I was excited to tell Nick who we would be seeing on his very first Saturday night in Seattle.

Heart? Alice in Chains? Death Cab For Cutie?  The Foo Fighters? Eddie Vedder?  Kenny Loggins? Macklemore? Mudhoney?

Not exactly.

The music we were going to hear was Klezmer.

And the band that was scheduled to appear that night?

The Klezmer Balabustas.***

Oy.

***For the Yiddish-impaired amongst you (which includes Nick) the word “Klezmer” means “musician.”  And “balabusta” is kind of an untranslatable word that means “busy, bustling, very competent hausfrau.”

This genre of music- mostly handed down aurally from generation to generation- was almost wiped out by the Holocaust.  It usually features a clarinet, an accordion, maybe a violin or two.

It always drives me crazy.

I think of it as Jewish Hillbilly music and it drives me right up the Wailing Wall.

Sorry, Klezmer lovers.  I try hard to positive about most things but Klezmer affects me like chalk on a blackboard.  It sets my teeth on edge.

I did not tell Nick.  He was happy to check out the venue.  He’s a bass guitarist in his (non-existent) spare time and he’s always up for a jam.

I did not want to prejudice him.

Now, have I mentioned that I had never actually met Lou in the flesh? I had heard about him for years from Kenny but we had never been in the same city at the same time.  Saturday night would be our first-ever face time.

Per his emailed instructions, promptly at 7:20 Nick and I presented ourselves at Kenyon Hall.

“There are tickets waiting for us,” I told the lovely lady ticket-taker at the front of the house.  “The name is Ross.”

She scanned a list and handed us

“Just give these to the gentleman. He’ll show you to your table,” she said helpfully.

Further up the aisle, a man was waiting with programs.

I duly forked over the comps and said, “The table is under the name of Ross.”

“Would it be this Ellen Ross?” asked the usher as he handed me a photograph.

I was shocked into speechlessness for a nano-second by Kenny’s covert black photo op. But I recovered quickly.

“Yes, that would be me.  I was twelve and that blouse was green,” I added for extra verisimilitude.  “Hi, Lou.”

“Kenny said you could take it,” he grinned.

“Yep, I definitely can take it,” I agreed.

“Yes, she can take it,” Nick concurred.  “I’m Nick,” he added, as he thrust out his hand.

“Welcome to Seattle, Nick. You just got here, I’m told,” Lou said.

“Yes, this is my first Saturday night in Seattle.  I’m happy to be here,” said Nick.

Lou showed us to the best table in the house, handed us our programs, and said,”I’m going to have to get back to my emcee duties.  I’ll see you after.  Enjoy the show.”

And he took off.

As Nick scoped out the cute quaint music hall, I thought now might be a good time to go over what Klezmer music was- and wasn’t.

I gave him the broad strokes but then the Balabustas launched into their program and I didn’t have say too much more.

An hour later, they were taking their bows and we started looking for Lou.

Little did we know there was more to come.

The Balabustas were just the opening act.  Now came the intermission.

And Lou was the star of that show.

First he played a ditty or two at the beautiful pipe organ.  I particularly enjoyed “Tea For Two” à la Spike Jones- complete with catcalls, wolf whistles, cymbals crashing- all the zany noises that versatile instrument could make.

Then he did schtick as the boss of the raffle.

“As he just moved to Seattle, I’d like to ask Nick Ross to come up here and play.  Come sit at the organ,” Lou commanded.

There was a stunned silence as Nick smiled sheepishly, looked around desperately for another Nick Ross to stand up, realized that Lou was drafting him into the show, and then with no way out, he stood up and manfully mounted the stage and took his place on the organ bench.

All to the the wild applause of the Kenyon Hall Regulars to whom this was a time-honored- and amusing- tradition.

Then Lou took center stage and asked for a young volunteer from the audience to pull the winning raffle ticket from the hat.

“Nick, when I give you the signal, you hit the ‘drumroll’ button,” Lou instructed his new assistant.  “And when I give you the second signal, go into the ‘cymbal crash.'”

Nick nodded gamely but he looked a tad lost.  The audience was eating it up, but I knew that the musician in my son didn’t want to goof it up- even if it was all in fun.

The first young volunteer who came up- a little girl about six- started to cry under the glare of the spotlight.  Lou chivalrously sent her back to her mother and called for a braver volunteer.

A young boy now took her place.  His mother explained that he’d been coming to Kenyon Hall since he was one.

He gamely stood on a chair, stuck his hand in the hat, Lou gave Nick the signal, Nick the hit the button, Lou gave the “kill” gesture…

And Nick missed it.

He was so intent on hitting the right button that he wasn’t watching Lou.

Big mistake.

One should always watch the music director.

Lou was not pleased.

The audience roared.

“We’re just going to have to try it again, Nick,” said Leonard Bernstein Magor.

This time he had Nick’s undivided attention, and when Lou’s choir director hand motioned the cut-off, Nick was ready for him with a triumphant cymbal crash.

Ta da!

Intermission ended with a bang, Nick gratefully returned to his seat, and Kesselgarden Klezmer Band took over.

They were terrific.  Carl on clarinet and Laurie on the accordion. And could they wail.

They were a mitzvah to my ears.  They almost made me a convert to the gospel according to Klezmer.

They ended the evening on a genuinely high minor note, and then per Lou’s request, Nick and I made our way to Endolyne Joe’s and reserved a table in the bar for four- Lou, his aide-de-camp, the lovely ticket-taker Geri Cooper, and us.

We had a ball, but as it neared midnight Lou suddenly called a halt to the festivities.

“I have to get up for choir practice in a few hours,” he remembered.

The four of us said our goodbyes.  As she hugged me, Geri graciously offered her assistance if ever we needed anything in Seattle.

A memorable first Saturday night for the new kid in town, I’d say.

Thanks, Lou.

And in the words of Cole Porter,

You’re The Top.

Now check out the maestro at work in rehearsal.

And here’s the performance that inspired the tour.  Note Yo Yo Ma rocking to Heart.  He’s into them.

You will be, too.

Hit it.