In June 1972, my friend Jim Kindervater and I -- both drummers, fresh out
of high school, and hardcore Buddy fans -- drove from Texas to Anaheim, to see
Buddy's band for its two-week stint at the Carnation Pavilion in Disneyland.
(Jim had been a fan ever since his father Harvey, an excellent Traditional Jazz
drummer with the Happy Jazz Band, had taken him to a Harry James concert, with
Buddy at the drums. During the show, Buddy gave Jim a chair right beside the
drums, instantly creating a fan for life.)
Back to 1972. Earlier that year Jim and I had caught Buddy's band in San Marcos
at Southwest Texas State University, then at the Bastille in Houston, and then
in San Antonio at Randy's Rodeo. We had read in Leonard Feather's Encyclopedia
of Jazz that Buddy's birthday was June 30, so the plan was to see the band
at Disneyland for the entire stint, and give Buddy a cake and a T-shirt on
his birthday.
Since there was no dancing, the audience at the Carnation Pavilion sat right
on the dance floor, squeezed together, people trying to get as close to the
bandstand as they could. Being the quickest and most eager, kids like us were
first to race past the guards when they dropped the cordons a half-hour before
show time, so we got the best seats every night -- right in front of the drums,
only an arms-length away. Band members included Pat LaBarbera, Jimmy Mosher,
Brian Grivna, Lin Biviano, Don Englert, and Greg Hopkins.
When June 30 rolled around, we presented the cake to Buddy with great anticipation.
He pointed out, however, his birthday was September 30, not June 30. We were
devastated, of course, but only for a moment, because Buddy immediately said, "What
the heck? We'll celebrate anyway!" So, between sets, Buddy invited us
over to his table -- Cathy was there and, if I recall correctly, Mrs. Rich
was there as well. The cake was cut, and it was great fun.
Many years later, Jim spoke to Joan Resnick, a friend of Cathy's, and
told her the "birthday party" story. When he spoke to Joan again
not long thereafter, she said that she had mentioned the story to Cathy. Cathy
remembered the "party" vividly and -- the point of this story --
Cathy had said that it had really touched Buddy, and that he remembered it
fondly later on. Like he has for so many others, Buddy has meant a lot to Jim
and me over the years. It's nice to know that we were able to do something
that, even if in a very small way, did something for him in return. ~ Mark
Overstreet
At the age of nineteen, I played drums in a jazz-rock outfit in Liverpool,
England. I was reckoned to be pretty good, both in my own and in other people's
estimation. In November of (I think) 1967, I saw the Rich band at Liverpool
University. It was a dirty, rainy night (no kidding'?) and people shuffled
in and sat wet and dank waiting for the concert to start. The band strolled
on stage , there was brief applause. The great man came on stage; again brief
applause. A quiet night to get out of the rain. Oh yeh ?? The first number
erupted like an artillery barrage and suddenly, we were in a different universe.
Within minutes, I was sitting on the edge of my seat with my mouth hanging
open like a moron. So was every other drummer in the building. My girlfriend
swore it was the only time in two years she had seen me motionless and silent.
It was an education. It gave definition to the phrase "not even knowing the
questions, let alone the answers".
Buddy was unique. It's as simple as that. I saw him four more times after
that night, in the UK and in Canada. He will always be with us. Thank god.
~ John Davies
I was playing drums in a big club in Boca Raton, Florida back in the 70s.
Buddy and his band were scheduled to play on a Sunday night, and we were asked
to clear our equipment off the stand to make room for the band. We gladly did
so, excited about seeing BR. Because Sunday was an "off" night, many
of the drummers working in Miami came in to see Buddy. Duffy Jackson was there,
along with several other noted players--including Mel Brown, who was working
in Fort Lauderdale with the Temptations. Buddy did a fantastic first set. For
the second set, he started inviting drummers up to sit in. Duffy played--and
Buddy's drum tech even played! Then Buddy called up Mel Brown for a tune. Mel--who
is actually a jazz drummer--played very well. As Mel was getting down from
the drums, Buddy took the microphone and told the audience: "That was
the great Mel Brown, the drummer for the Temptations. They can't sing, but
he can play!" ~ Ron Hefner
I first met Buddy Rich at Basin Street East in New York City back in 1967. He
was with his band and I do remember Dusty Springfield opening the show. I was
sitting at the front table of the bandstand and in walked Buddy, he was so cool
he looked down from the bandstand. I was sitting on a telephone book because
I couldn't see. He said "hello" and was laughing because I was sitting
on the telephone book. I was only 9-years-old. I got to meet him at intermission
and he knew who I was. Two years later on July 20, 1969, I met him again with
his band in Scranton, Pennsylvania, at the Weldwood Lounge in Eynon, and he remembered
me and asked me if I wanted to sit in with the band. I told him "Sure!" he
asked me what song I wanted to play. I told him "West Side Story".
He said, "No way! I don't even know it!" so I ended up playing Mercy!
Mercy! with his band. Every time he came to the Scranton/Wilkes-Barre, Pennsylvania,
area, he let me sit in with his band. He was the nicest, kindest man I ever met.
He always treated my father and me with respect. I was known to him as "the
kid" and my father was known as "Angie". My biggest thrill from
him, not only sitting in with the band and playing, was getting his drum sticks
that he used.
~ Billy Angelo Stella
Being a "band geek" in the 70's, marching, concert, etc. and a "drummer" at that,
Buddy was who you aspired too be. Being blessed to see Buddy perform live several
times in the mid-seventies, always at rather small, intimate venues, I'm reminded
of those times after the show when Buddy would stroll back on stage after the
bulk of the crowd left. ( I always just stood around afterwards watching those
drums while the roadies were striking the stage). The handfull of people left
would ask questions, Buddy would address everyone of them, and then he'd get
around to me, and my question was "How can I play like you"; his response, "Practice";
and then he'd flash that smile of his and off he went. It got so that each time
we met he'd work his way around the crowd, answering each question, turn to me
last..Ii'd ask the same question, always; he'd give the same answer, always;
flash that smile and off he went. Get in his silver mercedes, and drive away.
The
last time we "met", was at Fisher Auditorium at I.U.P. in PA. after the show,
back on stage, he replied to each person there, turned to me, smiled, and said
practice. I smiled and then asked him if he'd ever heard of Neil Peart? He said
he hadn't and I replied "You'd be pleased to know there are some rock drummers
out there who actually practice" (having just heard caress of steel the night
before, and being blown away with neils sticking on dictates and narpets). It
was the first time I ever asked buddy something other than "How can i play like
you"... it was the day I stopped drumming forever. Damn I miss him. ~ Russel
Pedersen
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