The Four Tenors

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We met the first day of school.

Walter Reed Junior High School.

1960!

There was John B., Jon, John R., and me! I don't know how the others came to choose the tenor sax as their instrument of choice for Beginning Band. But me? The tenor sax wasn't even on my list of preferred instruments. The carrying case on end was as tall as me. And almost as heavy. I wanted to learn the drums but, by the time the sign up sheet made it to me, the sax was the only instrument left.

The four of us seemed equally adept as musicians. Mr. Carlson, our music teacher, would give weekly tests and our placement would be our reward. One week John R. would be First Chair. Then Jon the next week. Then me. Then John B.

And round again.

We became fast friends, always hanging out together, practicing together, studying together, even spending weekends together. We called ourselves The Four Tenors. This was over thirty years before Domingo, Carreras, and Pavarotti usurped our name. If you could copyright a name, we would have been rich by now.

I remember one Saturday the four of us spending the day together at John's house. In Toluca Lake. The house wasn't a showplace. But it did have an all white living room that we were forbidden to enter. I'm not sure it existed in reality, but in my memory there was a chain or cord across the doorway. Just in case you were tempted. We met his mother, but his father was "on the road". I knew who his father was, still I pictured a grizzled old man, driving a rig down the interstate.

The driveway of the house opened up in front of the garage to afford us the room to shoot hoops. John insisted his older brother Tom play with us; though "insisted" is the wrong word. Tom had cerebral palsy but we all ignored that fact, taking our cue from the way he was treated by John and his mother. They saw no difference, no handicap. Neither did we.

John had a mighty presence. We all wanted to be near him, laugh in his company. He loved physical comedy and would always be "on". Never down or depressed or concerned about anything. He found humor all around. He would trip over an imagined bump on the floor, contort his face to blow away an imaginary fly, use his entire body to get a laugh, make a point.

So I was surprise when I first noticed him acting on a television series late in 1972. No, not that he was acting, but that it was a serious role- that of a country Reverend. I was proud of John, knew what a good person he was, what a good man he had become. I watched his career over the years and often thought of trying to reconnect with him. But to what purpose? I also wondered, still wonder, what became of Jon and John B.

John died in 2003. Suddenly. He took sick one afternoon, and by 10:30 that night was gone. An aorta dissection, which means an undiagnosed flaw of the heart. Writing this just made me sit up, take notice. Ironic?

John's only flaw was that his heart was too big!

So this is in memory of John Ritter. Died September 11, 2003.

Jon Green and John Bradley, I hope you two are still alive and well.

Drop me a line.

From left to right:

Jon Green, Me, John Ritter, John Bradley, circa 1961