Be-Bop Charlie

I just found out that Chuck Niles died in March. It's July now, and I suppose that's how it is when a guy dies who had local influence, or at least the perception of local influence. I'm 1300 miles from Chuck's stomping ground now, and word travels slowly sometimes.

When my family moved to southern California in 1960, there was Chuck, spinning records and doing Alber's Grits commercials on some whacky station called the Jazz Knob, KNOB in Long Beach. Chuck had a quality about him that the other guys on the Knob lacked, which was how he connected with the music. I remember him having a lot of cats in the studio for interviews, and it always felt like they were talking from adjacent barstools in some very groovy joint on a break. I was ten at the time, but I was drawn into jazz by the relaxed nature of Chuck's whisky baritone long before I picked up a saxophone for the first time.

In 1965 I met Chuck at the counter of Dick Charles Music in Glendale. He was buying drumsticks, I was paying for a lesson with Dick Houlgate. I heard that unmistakable voice and I told him I was a fan and regular listener. He was genuinely floored that, during all the commercial rock invasions, here was this kid who'd listen to Basie and Sonny Stitt every afternoon on his curent station, KBCA. (They Alber's Grits commercials conveyed. There was also an advertiser who offered to fix your Corvair!) He took the time to get acquainted with me and I've never forgotten that.

KBCA became KKGO which led to Westwood One. Twenty years after the incident at Dick Charles Music, Westwood One decided to dump jazz as a format. Some quick moves by fanatics at KLON in Long Beach preserved the best jazz record library on the west coast, and brought Chuck to where he always belonged--public radio, Here Chuck could slow down his delivery and enjoy himself, plugging local talent and guys passing through on the road. I'd see Chuck everywhere, in the clubs and concerts, wherever jazz was being played. Once, at work at a job I'd rather not remember, my sense of the absurd was heightened beyond belief by Chuck giving a traffic report in the afternoon announcing that sheep were wandering all over the Pomona Freeway. Nothing breathless about his delivery, just sort of stating the facts punctuating his low rumble with meaningful silences. It was artistry, pure and simple.

There was a time when I was playing in several big bands in Orange County and Los Angeles, and the one chart they all had in common was Bob Florence's Be-Bop Charlie. The title was inspired by Chuck. What a great chart! It's a showpiece at an up tempo. Slow it down a little and it's a great dance chart. Either way, there's a transcendent moment where the tune modulates up a third, where a very simple melody is restated, where if you're in the band or an astute civilian you might just feel yourself floating,

That's how I felt about Chuck Niles. He could just suspend time, gravity, and reality so I could listen and really hear jazz music, so I could float with it. I wonder how many people Chuck touched this deeply, no matter where he was on your FM dial?

KLON, which is now KJZZ, has renamed their building the Chuck Niles Studios. How bittersweet a tribute to a voice we'll hear no more.