Ron Della Chiesa

Biography

March 28, 2000

Ron made his radio debut at age 10 on a children's program in his home town of Quincy, Massachusetts. He joined 'GBH in 1966 as a part-tin1e news and promotional announcer for Channel 2. Three years later he switched to radio to host two 'GBH/89.7fm classical music programs: Prelude and Morning pro musica. Before long, Ron found himself behind the microphone of an afternoon classical music show, an afternoon jazz show, a late-night jazz show and an overnight show called 'GBH After Hours.

Ron continued to explore the relationship between classical, jazz and other musical forms, expanding his lineup to showcase live performances and classical programming on The Classical Hour, Great Voices and live broadcasts of The Boston Symphony Orchestra.

Attracting an impressive roster of in-studio guests, this lover of "Heife1z,Fiedler, Callas and Leontyne" as well as "Sinatra, Shearing, Torme and Cleo" is as likely to be on the air talking painting with pal Tony Bennett as discussing the golden age of coloratura with soprano Phyllis Curtin.

Ron Della Chiesa attended Boston University's School of Public Communication, where he worked part-time at the university radio station, WBUR-FM. He served in the Army Reserves, then landed his first full-time job at Boston's WBOS-FM, where he hosted culturally diverse programs. He later was selected to hold simultaneous posts as the music host and program director for WBCN-FM, then an all-classical music radio station. While at WBCN, he also worked part-time as a television announcer for Boston stations WBZ/4 and WNAc/7 (now WHDH-TV).

It’s Ron's broad musical expertise, embracing both classical music and jazz, that keeps him in demand both on the air and off, hosting any number of events around Boston, from the BankBoston Celebrity Series 'GBH Classics to the Harry Ellis Dickson Boston Pops Esplanade concerts, and serving on the board of numerous local arts organizations. He is also in demand and noted for his many lectures on opera, classical music, jazz and the Great American Songbook.  

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Articles by Ron taken from Dial Magazine

Nat King Cole: An Appreciation (February 1985)

    With the untimely death of Nat King Cole 20 years ago this month, America lost one of its greatest talents.  If Nat had never sung a note in his life, he still would be revered as a true giant of the jazz piano, in a class with Teddy Wilson, Earl "Fatha" Hines and Oscar Peterson.  Some of today's leading keyboard stylists, including Dave McKenna, list Cole as being a primary influence on their playing.

    Cole's laid-back approach to the piano, combined with his seemingly endless flow of ideas and melodic invention, made him a major force in the evolution of jazz.  One only has to listen to the pristine beauty of those remarkable trio sessions with guitarist Oscar Moore and bassist Johnny Miller to hear a true master at work.

    My early introduction to Nat came from the wonderful Capitol records he made in the early 1940s.  His solos on such familiar standards as "Body and Soul," "The Man I Love" and "Embraceable You" remain unsurpassed to this day.

    I don't agree with those who say that Cole's later work never measured up to that of "The Trio Years."  Nat simply changed with the times and became one of the finest pop singers of our generation.  Instead of abandoning the piano, he used it as an accompaniment for his outstanding voice.  This, combined with the brilliant arrangements of Gordon Jenkins and Nelson Riddle, resulted in such 1950s hits as "Mona Lisa," "Nature Boy" and "Sweet Lorraine."

    It's safe to assume that since that sad day 20 years ago, not an hour has gone by anywhere in the world where someone wasn't playing a record by Nat Cole.  The piano, the voice, the style...all are unique in the annals of our native American music.

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Mr. Opera (April 1985)

    His voice was know to millions of radio listeners across the United States.  Every Saturday afternoon for nearly 50 years, he introduced us to the stories of the great operas.

    I, like so many others, tuned in faithfully from early December until mid-April to hear that familiar introduction, perfectly delivered in flawlessly modultated tones.  "Texaco presents The Metropolitan Opera.  Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen.  This is Milton Cross from The Metropolitan Opera House in New York City inviting you to join us for another live broadcast."

    They called him "Mr. Opera" and for good reason.  Cross was not only on the scene looking down from his booth high above the magnificent stage, but he made the radio audience a part of all the glamour and excitement of grand opera, while describing the action.  Many years later, I still can recall some wonderful moments from those magic Saturdays of the Met broadcasts.  Jussi Bjoerling and Lica Albanese in a late 1950s performance of Manon Lescaut that was absolutely incandescent; a dream cast of Price, Corelli and Merrill in Verdi's Il Trovatore; Corelli bringing down the house with his third-act aria, "Di Quella Pira."  In more recent years, I remember pulling my car off the road to hear Pavarotti sing "Una Furtiva Lagrima" so beautifully that it took me a while to regain my senses and drive on.

    One Saturday afternoon several years ago, I heard an unfamiliar voice introduce The Met Opera along with the sad news that Cross had died the night before.  "Mr. Opera" was now a part of the Metropolitan's long history - so much so that a bust of him stands in the lobby of the new opera house in Lincoln Center.  A fitting tribute to a man who made us feel we were so much part of the glory of the grand opera.

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Newport Memories (August 1985)

For over thirty years, impresario George Wein has presented some of the greatest names in jazz, in a variety of locations, at the Newport Jazz Festival.  This year, the Festival will be held on the weekend of August 17-18.

My first impressions of Newport go back to the 1950s when the performances took place at Rhode Island's Freebody Park.  I'll never forget the night the Duke Ellington band almost caused a riot during one set.  Tenor saxophonist Paul Gonsalves began to solo in the middle of "Diminuendo and Crescendo in Blue" and continued blowing for some 15 minutes.  A young woman started to dance; the audience surged forward and all hell broke loose!  Only the Duke's calmness prevented anything more serious from happening.  The great alto saxophonist Johnny Hodges was called upon to bring things back to normal, and he succeeded admirably with "Jeep's Blues."  Columbia Records put the entire performance on album on my show, I got a call from a listener who told me she was the woman who started dancing during the Gonsalves solo.  Her photograph is on the back of the album as "The Lady who Launched a Thousand Cheers."

I also recall the late tenor saxophonist Lester Young and blues singer Jimmy Rushing joining the Basie Band for a rousing "One O'Clock Jump" that featured Illinois Jacquet in the finale; Frank Sinatra arriving by helicopter for a single set; Anita O'Day so cool and swinging, and Erroll Garner playing "Misty" under the stars.

Many of those wonderful artists are gone, but the great jazz tradition continues in the Festival events.  Somehow, Newport and jazz are synonymous, and I hope it stays that way for many years to come.  See you there!

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The Day I Sang at the Met (October 1985)

I was about 10 years old the first time my father took me to visit the Big Apple.  The Metropolitan Opera House was tops on my list of things to see, along with the Empire State Building and Yankee Stadium.

My father owned a fine collections of '78 opera records that he would play endlessly on his Victrola.  My ears grew accustomed to the voices of those wonderful "Golden Age" singers like Caruso, Gigli, Ponselle and DeLuca.  And every Saturday, when I would listen faithfully to live broadcasts from the Met, I imagined what it must have looked like and longed to find out for myself.

As we approached the Opera House that memorable day, I was somewhat taken aback by its ugly facade.  Could this be the building that housed the world's greatest singers, from Caruso on down?

was early morning and some stage hands were bringing scenery into the house for the evening performance.  My father asked one of them if we might take a peek at the stage.  Within a few moments, I was standing in the center of the stage of the Metropolitan Opera House!  Looking out into that dark auditorium with its magnificent chandelier and world-famous diamond horseshow is a moment I'll never forget.  With my father standing next to me, I couldn't resist singing a note or two.  For those few seconds I was Caruso, Bjoerling and Tucker al in one - and the applause was thunderous in my ears.

A few weeks ago I was in New York, in the vicinity of the old Met.  The Opera House is gone and a modern office building has taken its place.  But it's still nice to point out to friends, "That's where the Metropolitan Opera House used to be, and I sang there once.

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Carols to Klezmer! (December 1985)

As a youngster, I always took great delight in finding records under the Christmas tree.  Music is a gift that keeps on giving, and I still treasure many of the albums I've received through the years.  Listeners often ask what my favorite holiday records are, so here's a brief list.

One of my earliest presents and still an annual favorite is an album of Christmas carols recorded in the 1950s by the late tenor Mario Lanza.  It should still be available on RCA Records.  In recent years, tenor Luciano Pavarotti recorded a superb collection of carols with Kurt Adler conducting the National Philharmonic and the Wadsworth Boys Choir (London OS-26473)

Popular singers, too, have recorded special holiday albums.  Ella Fitzgerlad's Swinging Christmas (Verve VE-1-2539) sparkles from beginning to end with songs like Leroy Anderson's "Sleigh Ride," and Irving Berlin's "White Christmas."  And "Old Blue Eyes" never sounded better than on A Jolly Christmas from Frank Sinatra (Capitol).  With arrangements by Gordon Jenkins, Frank's rendering of the Hugh Martin-Ralph Blane song "Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas" is a holiday gem.

For the Chanukah season, Yiddishe Renaissance by the Klezmer Conservatory Band (Kleztone 39172) is a delight from beginning to end.  Director Hankus Netsky and his group of young musicians have a wonderful time with "Yiddish Blues," "The Hot Bulgar," "Happy Jews" and many others.

The Yiddish Dream (Vanguard VSD 715/16) is a heritage of Jewish song with performances by Jan Peerce, Herschel Bernardi and Martha Schlamme.  My own favorite from this collection is tenor Peerce singing "The Anniversary Waltz."

Merry Christmas and Happy Chanukah to music lovers of all ages!

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My Friend, The Piano Player (May 1986)

May 30 marks the birthday of my dear friend, Dave McKenna.  Jazz critic Whitney Balliett, writing in The New Yorker, once described Dave as "the hardest swinging pianist of all time" with a left hand that reminded him of "a rumbling freight in the night."  Having heard him on records and in person for many years, I have to agree with Whitney.  To the uninitiated listener, hearing him play for the first time is an unforgettable experience.

A few years ago in Italy, I had the pleasure of witnessing such an event.  One of that country's leading jazz pianists, Romano Mussolini, was working with a small group in a club located just outside the beautiful Renaissance city of Florence.  The main purpose of our journey was dining on the extraordinary Italian cuisine that Dave is so fond of.  After some urging from Romano and his fellow musicians, Dave reluctantly gave up his plate of pasta for the piano.  It turned out to be one of the greatest displays of keyboard virtuosity I've ever heard.  Even the cook came running out of the kitchen to listen!

Dave finished his set with an up tempo version of "Take the A Train" that had the club patrons on their feet shouting, "Bravo!"  In typical McKenna fashion, he modestly thanked the audience and returned to the business of finishing his linguine.

Dave continues to delight jazz lovers around the world with his magnificent interpretations of the great American songbook.  You can hear him on the many fine albums he has recorded for Concord Records or playing for delighted audiences in the Plaza Bar at Boston's Copley Plaza Hotel, his almost year-round home.

Happy Birthday, Dave!  How about a Gershwin tune?  Or some linguine with clam sauce...the red or white?

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September Song (September 1986)

Some things you never forget.

I’ll always remember my first day at school, my first taste of oysters and the first time I heard the Stan Kenton Band.

I was with my parents not far from Old Orchard Beach, Maine, on our summer vacation.  The local DJ announced that Stan would be appearing that weekend at the Steel Pier Ballroom.  Then I heard the most wonderful sounds coming from our Nash Rambler radio.  “Oh, it’s a long, long time from May to December.  But the days grow short when you reach September.”  The arrangement was superb and the brass section was especially impressive.  From that moment on I became a Kenton fan.

One of my favorite records was something called “Prologue.” In this miniature tone poem Stan introduced the Kenton sound and the men who made it.  There was the stratospheric trumpet of Maynard Ferguson, the brilliant alto saxophonist Lee Konitz and the delightful humor of trombonist Frank Rosolino.  The sound was further enhanced by singer June Christy and a swinging vocal quartet known as The Four Freshman.

The band was even more impressive in person than on records.  Once during the late Fifties, I heard Stan at the Surf Ballroom on Nantasket Beach.  Before the opening set began, Kenton announced that the band had been on the road for weeks and apologized for the late start.  He said they were all tired but would do their best, then proceeded to blow the roof off the place!  It was a night I’ll never forget.

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The Swinger (November 1986)

John Haley “Zoot” Sims was one of the world’s greatest jazz musicians.  Born in Inglewood, California, in 1925, his next door neighbor was a young teenager named Norma Jean Baker who later changed her name to Marilyn Monroe.  As a youngster, Zoot played saxophone with the bands of Sonny Dunham, Bobby Sherwood and Benny Goodman.  He was also one of the original four brothers in the famous Woody Herman sax section of the 1940’s.  Zoot spent a couple of years with the Stan Kenton Orchestra in the early 1950s and then began his prolific recording career.

Basie and Zoot on Pablo Records is a masterful display of the genius of his simplicity.  Like Zoot, Basie knew the meaning of “less is more.” Also worth listening to are the many superb recordings Zoot made with saxophonist Al Cohn.  Performing together for many years, they shared a musical camaraderie that is rare in jazz.

Zoot was a perpetual swinger, even when playing a few notes, and a man of few words, but his quotes became the stuff jazz legends are made of.  Once, when he’d been drinking, a woman asked him how he could play his sax in his present state.  His reply: “Lady, I practice drunk.”  Another time, while touring with friend Cohn, he was asked if he’d like to sample something the Danes liked to drink called “Elephant Beer.”  Zoot’s answer: “No thanks, I drink to forget.”

Although battling a fatal illness for some time, Zoot continued to play concerts and club dates.  The last time I heard him was on the Jazz Boat in Boston, and he never sounded better.  He died a few months later, but went out swinging.

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The Canary of the Belfry (January 1987)

Born in 1890, tenor Beniamino Gigli was the youngest of six children of a poor Italian shoemaker.  It was there, in his hometown of Recanati near the Adriatic Coast, where a seven-year-old Gigli first sang in public.  The youngster’s voice had such an extraordinary sweetness that he became known as “The Canary of the Belfry.”  He made his debut as Enzo in Ponchielli’s opera La Gioconda in 1914 and recorded “Cielo E Mar” five years later.  This aria, one of my earliest introductions to the wonderful world of opera, was one of the jewels in my father’s impressive collection of 78 rpm recordings.

Gigli came to The Met in 1920, just one year before the great Enrico Caruso died, and sang there for 12 consecutive seasons.  What a decade that was with its glorious vocal combinations: Gigli and Maria Jeritza in Tosca; Gigli and Giussepe DeLuca in La Gioconda, Gigli and Rosa Ponselle in L’Africana.  Truly opera’s golden age.

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