Rifftides reader Fred Augerman writes:
Here’s Shelly Manne’s very poignant tribute at the time of Stan’s passing.
He was a friend to all musicians.
He was like a Father.
He was like a psychiatrist.
He was the guy next to you on the bus.
He ate the same lousy food you did at a rest stop.
He waited with you for the room to be made up at the hotel after 300
miles of road.
He was the guy that taught you to make the job at any cost.
He taught you responsibility.
He was the guy that braved the elements in shirtsleeves
He was the guy who was first to fix a flat tire in the rain.
He was the guy in K.C. who held a busted water pipe with his hands, to
keep clothes and music from getting ruined until help came.
He was understanding to wives on the road.
He was a dedicated musician, composer, arranger.
He was a developer of talent.
He wrote to show off the ability of all his men.
He treated all equal.
He remembered everyone’s name, fan and musician alike.
He could go without sleep for days.
He was loyal.
He was dynamic.
He was vital.
He would lift his arms and make you want to play.
He would laugh at himself.
He could reach a whole audience with a smile.
He could enter a room and you would know he was there without
He invented charisma.
He was an innovator.
He was a gambler with music.
He was an explorer.
He was a living monument to music.
He was a great educator.
He was a great leader.
He was loved by all.
He loved all.
He was a friend to all.
He was indestructible.
Stan Kenton is dead. He will never be forgotten, and we will miss
Manne’s drumming is an essential ingredient in Kenton’s hit record “Viva Prado,” recorded in September of 1950. The composition and arrangement are by Shorty Rogers. Soloists are Milt Bernhart, trombone; Bud Shank, alto saxophone; and Maynard Ferguson, trumpet.