At work at the White House

The Tony Bennett/Bill Evans Album

People who know me have learned to ask me about my Christmas travel plans. I usually plan something crazy. During my time in the US Marine Band, my standard departure for South Dakota from Washington, DC, came immediately after my last holiday job at the White House. The bus would leave from the White House to return to the Marine Barracks, I’d change out of my uniform and into my jeans, hiking boots and Snoopy hockey jersey, shift the Durango into gear and hit the road for the next eighteen hours to celebrate the arrival of Christ and Santa with my family.

Have you ever known someone who lights up the room as soon as they walk through the door? Someone whose towering presence refuses to be secluded within the confines of flesh and clothing? Someone who can stop the conversation in a crowded room simply by floating down the staircase and smiling? I’ve often wondered if God parcels out this talent, or if a person who desperately craves attention develops this skill.

On the evening of December 20, 2000, I played solo piano for a few hours in the beautifully decorated State Dining Room. After about a half hour of holiday music on the old upright Steinway on this snowy, festive evening, some twenty people had sauntered into the State Dining Room from the Red Room to linger around the immense gingerbread house that was featured at the center table … when into the subdued atmosphere stepped Chevy Chase. I can only compare the occurrence of this dazzling entrance to the flipping of a switch. I would swear that the room was dark just a second or so ago. At first, he talked to everybody at once, as if we had been invited to his dining room. Then he flashed an almost blinding smile and moved from group to group, eventually finding his way to the piano.

“Do you know the music of Bill Evans?” Well, I most certainly do, Mr. Chase. “He and I played together as kids.” Really? Wow! And do you play the piano, too? “My mother had a career as a concert pianist. I don’t play like she did, but I’ve got some game.” Would you like to play? “Well, perhaps just a little something. I don’t get to play very often.” He sat down and proceeded to play one of Bill Evans’ best known tunes called “Waltz For Debby”.

The Bill Evans trio, featuring Bill Evans on piano, Scott LaFaro on bass, and Paul Motian on drums, released an album entitled Waltz for Debby in 1961 and featured this beautiful song. The words and music paint a musical portrait of his niece. I first heard this little gem of a tune, however, when I purchased The Tony Bennett/Bill Evans Album, released in 1975.

I don’t think I have heard either of these legends sound better than when they collaborated on this project, except for maybe on their second album called Together Again from 1977. The best qualities of each of these masters rise to the top, mingle, and coalesce into a truly exclusive voice/instrument integration, a rare blend, so distinct as to isolate their art from all other pianist and singer pairings. Often, two musicians will meet each other on their respective plains and enjoy the view together, but Mr. Bennett and Mr. Evans climbed from their lofty mutual vantage point to parts unknown, to terra incognita, so as to glimpse wondrous vistas, panoramas of which only a precious few have ever glimpsed.

I’ve never heard of Bill Evans, I told Mr. McK. one day as we discussed jazz pianists in college. “Most musicians would brand Bill Evans as a pianist’s pianist," he replied, "like the chef who taught Julia Child and the conductor who mentored Leonard Bernstein.” Typically, and sadly, only jazz aficionados know about Bill Evans. Tony Bennett, naturally, reaches a more mainstream audience. But, what a match!

When Mr. Chase finished the song, he bounded off the bench, bowed to applause for just a second, then deflected attention away from himself by requesting “Santa Claus Is Coming To Town”. I played three or four choruses of the Christmas classic while he very graciously listened to the whole performance. “That was marvelous, Marine. Thank you for playing that for me.” You're quite welcome, sir. Thank you for listening. And Merry Christmas. "Merry Christmas to you as well." He directed his holiday well-wishing and his singular air of good cheer to a few other islands of guests. Then, after admiring the giant gingerbread house, he smiled once more at his newest fans and moved on to another room, dowsing the light as he left.

Credits: To Mr. Bill Evans, for hearing, developing and sharing a unique piano voice. Thank you. To Mr. Tony Bennett, for a lifetime of warmth and beauty in song. I found your heart, by the way. You left it in Stan Fran’s disco. Sorry.