A Band of Brothers

For such a big man he had a gentle way about him. That’s what I remember the first time I saw Clarence.  Sax players back then were often the “Big Men” in the group. Their ability to produce sound as a result of pushing volumes of air out from their lungs that was both rich and sweet at the same time required a robust frame. For me, that’s why the sax was such an integral part of the sound of Soul and Rhythm and Blues. The saxophone was a vessel for the inner sprit and all its complexities. Pain, joy, sorrow and love, the saxophone knew the language of all these emotions.

I grew up with a loving for this music. Before the British Invasion, this was the music we heard on the radio. Years later, rock bands might add a sax to a solo for an R & B or jazz feel. But often it was a track just laid on top of the others. Pleasant to hear in the mix, but for me it never really honored the instrument. But that deep, nasty, raspy, street fightin’, city cryin’, soul searching sound that can only come from down deep in those who lived it, was a rarity in rock circles. Until the E Street Band brought it in and gave it a home. It wasn’t until years later that I learned of the rich R & B sound and history that came out of Asbury Park. Then, to me, it made total sense that Bruce would weave together all these influences to create his own unique sound

Watching Clarence that night and that day during rehearsal, I was mesmerized. Here was this giant of a man with a way about him that was attentive, sensitive and at least from my recollection a bit on the quiet side. But when he performed he was out in front with Bruce and in lock step with the other members of the band. He wasn’t the accompanist; he was an integral and equal part of the band as they all were. That was the magic of the E Street Band that night. They were locked into each other, clearly a Band of Brothers.

When I look at this photo I see Bruce lost in a moment, eyes closed almost physically removed from what is around him. But then Clarence, there is by his side, holding his own, standing tall, as if he was saying, “Just let it go. I got you, brother”. And as we all know, they clearly were.

On the anniversary of "I Saw Rock and Roll Future" - May 9, 1974

Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band had been playing regularly in Cambridge bars during the spring of 1974. Still relatively new to the scene, his following was dedicated, though sales of his two albums to date were not what his label was hoping for.

I was living just outside of Boston at the time. A friend brought Bruce’s second album, The Wild, The Innocent and the E Street Shuffle over one day saying he had heard that this guy was pretty good. He was. We liked what we heard and decided to check him out at Charlie’s Place in Harvard Square.

We took our seats in one of the club’s classic high back wooden bar booths, squeezed into one side and ordered a pitcher of beer. I looked around the room and commented on how surprised I was at how crowded the club was. A patron, sitting across from me heard my comments said, “You mean you’ve never heard him before? You just wait. I’m from Philadelphia and I’ve been following the band up and down the east coast.” I frankly had never heard of anything like that before.

What transpired next has made an indelible mark on me forever. The band came on, six of them squeezed into a corner of the bar in an area about 12 feet by 12 feet. With only a small empty dance floor separating the band and us, they launched into the most incredible set of jazz, R&B, and rock infused music I had ever heard. They had a presence and a swagger that drew the audience into their songs. When the night was over two things stayed with me: one, I had never heard music like that before, and two, I had to see them again. I called my friends at Windowpane Productions, local concert promoters that I was doing photography shoots for. I simply said, “You have to book this guy!” Ira Gold, one of the partners, came over to my apartment and I played him Bruce’s two albums. After hearing them he asked if he could borrow them to play for his production partner, Jeff Hersh, who was also part of Bonnie Raitt's management team. Jeff was equally impressed. My biggest concern then, was that I might not get my albums back!

There had been no plans for an opening act for their upcoming Bonnie Raitt show at the Harvard Square Theatre in May of 1974. Ira and Jeff’s plans were to really give the whole night to Bonnie. She had been recently delegated to mostly being an opening act and they felt this was her turn to headline. After listening to the albums I lent Ira, he and Jeff paid a visit to one of Bruce’s shows at Charlie’s Place in Cambridge. That night a short conversation with Bruce followed the last set of the night. They asked if he wanted to open up for Bonnie. Bruce said, "Sure, why not."

Jon Landau, covering the show that night for The Real Paper in Boston, would write the review that to some, lay the groundwork for Bruce’s success; penning the infamous line “I saw Rock and Roll future and it’s name is Bruce Springsteen.” And the rest, as they say, is history.

Visit Morrison Hotel Gallery to learn more or purchase this unique and historical photo 

The Community of Bruce: The River… It just keeps flowing through us all.

Bruce Springsteen ended his US tour, full River album performance in Brooklyn last week. It was quite a journey.

The story goes that when the River box set was released, Bruce and his manager Jon Landau discussed doing a few shows performing the double album in its entirety. Bruce thought, “Why not do twenty?” Jon broke into an affirming smile and it took off from there. E Street Band members soon began reshuffling their own schedules and The River Tour 2016 was officially announced. Someone asked Nils Lofgren when did he first learn of the tour? To which Nils replied, "probably the day before you did". That's life on E Street.

But life is what The River is about. Bruce chose to bring this masterful work to the forefront today because it’s a reflection on life as he once saw it. And now it was time to reflect back. As Bruce said in many of his show intros, The River was a record where he was trying to see where he “fit in the broader community”. He had taken notice of the things that “bond people to their lives; work, commitment, and  families”. And in writing about them, he hoped to get closer to them in his own life.

The River is everyone’s journey. I was fortunate to be part of the shows and witness this first hand. As I communicated with others throughout the tour I learned so much about how we had all grown and how the themes and the stories contained within The River were also our own. As Bruce reflected back, we did as well. From across the country, I was hearing from friends old and new who were being knocked out by what they were witnessing.  It’s one wide, transcendent community, the community of Bruce.

A community is defined as "a feeling of fellowship with others, as a result of sharing common attitudes, interests, and goals.” The lives we’ve lived and the times we’ve known are the same inspiration for his music. Our own histories are what he shares with us. From this commonality, over time a massive community has grown.  And despite the numbers no one feels alone or separate.

But it wasn’t always like that. For some, it was once a small and even  somewhat guarded secret. If you were from New Jersey or were witness to him in his earliest years on the East Coast, you felt you were in on something no one else knew about.  But you couldn’t explain it. When I first heard Bruce and became involved in is music he was playing local bars in 1974 around Boston and Cambridge. When I moved to California that summer I brought his music with me. But who else knew? No one. He was an unknown. How I wanted the world to know his music and experience what I had seen and heard.  In late 1975 a performance was finally announced for the Paramount Theatre in Oakland. I rushed over to the theatre box office to make sure I was in line to get seats the day they were available. It was no problem. I was the only one there. I was dumbfounded. Would the world ever find him?

A few years later I was back east visiting my family and on a bus one morning heading into Boston. I am gazing out the window and I’m hearing the chatter and cajoling of a group of pre-teen girls at the back of the bus.  I’m trying to discern what the fuss was about. They’re giggling, teasing each other and just having fun. They start to sing. They’re getting louder and louder and I turn slightly in their direction when I recognize the song as they hit the refrain. And as if on cue, they turn to each other shouting/singing in unison …“TRAMPS LIKE US, BABY WE WERE BORNNNNN TO RUN”

I turn back to my gaze out the window and a smile comes over me. I thought, yes, he’s arrived. And then it hit me. He was no longer our small community’s much-cherished secret. It was time to let him go and give him to the rest of the world to enjoy. So they too could become part of the community; the community of Bruce.