Cleve Pozar, Where Are You?

In the early 70's I was a Bar-Back at the Copley Plaza Hotel. on Saturday nights my beat was The Merry-Go-Round Room. Yes, there actually was a merry-go-round in the center of the room and in this iteration, the decor was 1930s speak-easy: Black Naugahyde, cream chiffon drapes along the walls lit very discreetly, chrome bannisters and trim. The hostess/manager was the awesome Judy Wilson, all 6 feet of her, black hair in a flapper bob always decked out in a tight evening dress complete with long cigarette holder (you could smoke in clubs back then). The entertainment was the creme-De-la-creme of jazz artists and practitioners of the American Popular Song. More on this later. My first night I walk in and Chris Connor is singing Cole Porter's "Anything Goes" and the band is in the stratosphere with her. The drummer catches my attention because he is playing legit poly rhythmic be-bop light as a feather. The kit was a kid's set, the kind you could get at Sears with the exception of a real snare drum, and the bass drum which was a full sized floor tom. At the break he comes over to the bar, makes a soda with lime and I ask, "How long have you been coordinating your independence?" to which he guffaws and says, "I'm amazed anyone notices! I'm Cleve, what's your name?" Robert "Cleve" Pozar in fact. A wiry 5 foot 5 enigma. Turns out he'd spent time with Bob James (the avante-garde pre-smooth jazz Bob James), Peter Ivers (post beat generation oddity who became a cult phenom), had been asked to join the fusion band Weather Report numerous times which he refused citing, "No Martial Arts Bands!" (flying egos). He also had a solo percussion act which was AMAZING. He had these long Echo-Plex tape loops of bowed vibes, whale-like vocal sounds created by his son, Mingus (at that time a 5 year old, "L'Enfant Terrible"). Solenoid switches affixed to his snare drum triggered beaters that struck gongs, he had a retro-fitted organ pedal keyboard that played a small carillon above which he had 2 tabla drums. He gave me a recital one afternoon playing several pieces from his album, "Solo Percussion". It was like performance art. Cleve moving rapidly from station to station playing various configurations of instruments. I have never seen anything like it since. The ingenuity, quality of the compositions and sheer integrity of the performer. We actually formed a rag-tag ensemble with the intent of creating music for a local improvisational dance company. The members consisted of Cleve and one of his students on drum kits, another student on conga drums, Rob Davis who played lead in my band The Molls on electric guitar, and myself on Farfisa organ through an Echo-Plex. The music was based around a reworking of four pages from Louis Bellson's "4/4" with the patterns mirrored playing against each other. When the two patterns met there was a calamitous fill, then repeated. Rob and I were given absolute freedom with the mandate, "No White Rock!" (i.e. no major or minor chords, and absolutely NO barre chords). Every so often Cleve's son Mingus would come in, climb up on a table next to a rack strung with pots/pans/bells/shakers/flatware,etc., and leap onto the structure shaking with all his might. You don't see THAT every day! We'd play for 2-3 hours straight until Cleve would stand up, light a cigarette and say, "I Quit!" with a huge smile. We drifted apart towards the 80s with Cleve moving west and sadly never kept in touch. My memories of our times together remain some of the best in my life to date, and I truly believe I was in the presence of genuine genius. There is one more Cleve story that will be shared in the context of the Merry-Go-Round Room post. Cleve, if you're out there I hope all is well. Drop me a line would Ya?