Return to story index
e-mail author
(edward@ordman.net)
Author Info
This story has appeared in the Christian
Science
Monitor.
How a famous musician learned a new tune
By Edward Ordman
FEBRUARY 12, 2003
There is a well-known story about the late singer Ella Fitzgerald,
which her bass player, Keter Betts, recently recalled for me. When
she was young, she entered a talent contest at New York's Apollo
Theater - as a dancer. As she waited in the wings, the act before
her consisted of three girls who danced so well she decided that,
compared to them, she was no dancer. So at the last minute, she
changed her act and sang instead. She won the contest, was
noticed, and her career grew from there.
But I was talking to Keter Betts to confirm a story about him, a
story my mother told me that is not so well known. It happens to
be on the same subject: the amazing ways in which people are led
to new callings.
In the late 1960s, after my brother and I went off at college, my
mother, Evelyn Ordman, retired from being an active member of the
Parent Teacher Association of Montgomery County, Md. She took a
job working for that school system. Her assignments included
recruiting volunteers and seeking cultural enrichment programs,
especially in connection with the schools receiving enrichment
funding under the federal Title I program. She sometimes found
these volunteers in very unexpected ways. And some of the people
she worked with were affected in ways neither she nor they
expected.
One of the schools in the northern part of the county, Taylor
Elementary, had a not-uncommon problem: The white children
included the children of landowners or professionals, and were
stylishly dressed. The black children were typically the children
of sharecroppers or maintenance workers and were often dressed in
hand-me-downs. (Frequently, for the girls, these were the rich
girls' castoff party dresses.)
The school principal asked Evelyn: "Could you find us a black
professional man who could visit the school? The children need to
see a successful black man."
Evelyn, fairly new at her job, might have had no idea where to
start. But that week she had a phone call from one of her cousins.
Arthur was a very short and slight man, who had an adopted son who
was comparatively gigantic. And the son had just gotten into a
fight on the school playground with a fellow pupil.
Arthur said, "This immense black man appeared at the door, asked
for me, and when I came to the door he broke out laughing." The
man had said, once he'd controlled his laughter, "Your kid beat up
my kid, and I came over to talk. Your son is so big that I thought
you'd be my size, and I was worried one of us might take a poke at
the other. But given our difference in sizes, maybe you should
just talk to your kid about fighting at school."
Arthur could tell Evelyn that the man was named Keter Betts, that
he looked respectable, and that he lived in a nice neighborhood.
So Evelyn called Mr. Betts and asked what he did.
"I'm a musician," he said.
"Great," said my mother. "Could you come visit one of our
schools?"
He said, "Do you know anything about me?"
"No, just that your name is Keter Betts and that my cousin says
you are good looking."
"Well, I'm a bass player," he said. "The bass isn't a solo
instrument, and I don't know the first thing about playing for
kids. I play in night clubs."
"You've got a kid, don't you?"
"Yes, five of them."
"Then you know about kids. And you know, there are an awful lot of
kids in the schools in the north part of the county who have never
seen a live musician. How about trying it just once or twice?"
"I don't see how we could work that out. I travel a lot, and I'm
working almost every night. And we'd have to make some kind of
special arrangement with the union."
"You work at night," my mother said. "This would be daytime, in
the schools. You think about it, and I'll see what I can do about
the union. But let me tell you more about these poor kids way out
in the country...."
My mother was never good at taking "no" for an answer. It didn't
take her long to get on the phone with the head of the musicians'
union local, all excited about the wonderful thing Keter Betts was
going to do for the kids in the schools, and what could the union
do to make it work?
The union local came through, promising some money from a
musicians' trust fund to make at least the first couple of
sessions possible. My mother found a school near enough to be
convenient for Keter, Washington Grove Elementary. Its principal,
Gerri Meltz, was willing to set up a trial run.
Keter came into a room full of kindergartners and opened the case
containing his bass. "Do you know what this is?" he asked.
"Yes," one of the 5-year-olds replied wide-eyed, "A really big
gee-tar."
Keter took out the bow. "And do you know what this string is made
of?"
None of the guesses included horsehair, and when Keter said
horsehair there were moans of distress. He had to explain he
hadn't killed the horse, that the horse had just needed a haircut,
and that the horse's tail was so big he wouldn't miss a few hairs.
By the time Keter struck up "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star" on the
bass, the children were practically climbing into his lap. And
soon he was doing jazz versions, blues versions, other children's
songs, and the kids were singing along. It was a spectacular
success.
The principal spread the word and other schools started inviting
him. When he discovered he had appearances scheduled in 17
schools, the musicians' union said it was time for the schools to
start seriously looking for money to be able to pay him properly.
Much later, my mother was visiting Amsterdam. She got into a
conversation with someone who happened to ask if she knew any
American musicians.
"No," she said, and then, "Oh, come to think of it, I do know one
man, in Silver Spring, Maryland."
"What's his name?" she was asked.
"Keter Betts."
"Wow," said the man she was talking with, "he's famous! He's the
bass player who plays with Ella Fitzgerald."
Until that point my mother had had no idea of Keter's affiliation
or reputation. And this made a big difference in her career, too -
because after that discovery, she never again hesitated to ask
people to help even if they seemed too busy or important.
Keter went on playing for children in school systems throughout
the Washington, D.C., area, doing as many as 100 performances a
year in the schools. Then he worked with the Wolf Trap Foundation
for the Performing Arts to start a program to bring preschool
children in Head Start to special performances at Wolf Trap.
Ella Fitzgerald died in 1996. Keter Betts still plays
professionally all over the world, does recordings, performs at
nightclubs and on cruise ships, and has a major international
reputation.
But during the fall and spring, at Wolf Trap in northern Virginia,
he performs for groups of young children several times a week - a
total of 25 or 30 times a year. He has performed for children so
often that he says it adds up to a whole new career.
(C) Edward Ordman 2003