A Friend Remembered

Three Days ago, (December 15th) was the anniversary of the death of dear friend and great jazz pianist, Dennis Moorman. It was eight years ago that Dennis’s wife Lynette called to tell us that Dennis died.

Why am I re-posting this again?

It is near Christmas and I always think of Dennis around now.

I met Dennis after my Blue Note days. In order to make a living, besides teaching, I played club dates, which are better known to the rest of the country as 'casuals'. For those who don't know what casuals are, they are weddings, dances, etc. A lot of jazz musicians get their training on these gigs and still do them, but won't admit it.

I was playing in one of these bands when someone asked if I knew Dennis. I did not. Eventually at one of these dates I met him. Dennis and I hit it off right away. We both had sour tastes in our mouths brought on by the so-called "business of jazz."

A few years later I stopped playing these gigs. I had been through a divorce and had moved to the city. Around 1984 I called Dennis and said "listen, I know you like to play ‘out’ and so do I, so why don't we play out together?" We set a date and got together. At first we played standards and eventually we started playing original music.

Dennis and I rehearsed almost every week for a year. In a year's time
we had grown very close, not only as musicians, but also as friends. I also got to know his wife Lynette and their son Russell.

Dennis was getting his Doctorate in Jazz Education from NYU. They had to create a curriculum because no one had ever pursued a Doctorate in Jazz Education before! I was honored that in his Dissertation, Dennis quoted material from one of my books. When he gave me a copy of it, again I felt honored that he truly respected my opinion. This respect, needless to say, was mutual.

We did work some jazz gigs together as co-leaders of a quartet, which
was broadcast ‘live’ on WKCR radio with Phil Schapp announcing and interviewing us.

During that time we recorded an album (String Duets), which we both shopped around with no luck. I did get a hand written letter from Michael Cuscuna telling me how much he enjoyed the music, but Blue Note wanted more commercial music (so what else is new).


Eventually Dennis and I went our separate ways, but we always stayed in
touch and in 2000 we started playing together again. Dennis was sitting in the front row when I recorded Takin’ The Duke Out at The Knitting Factory in New York City.

We started making plans and wanted to add another ten or twelve minutes to the album and release it as a CD under my own CDM label.

Christmas 2001, Dennis and Lynette were in our home laughing and sharing Christmas with our friends.

One year later Dennis was offered a kidney. He was on dialysis for years. Dennis’s kidneys failed a long time ago and he almost died when his body rejected a transplant. But in 2002 he decided it was time to try again.

Lynette called us and told us about it and we went to see Dennis in the hospital. He was in good spirits and happy. Two days later he died.

My wife Carol and I went to his wake and his burial.

To this day I am sad and I miss him all the time and I know if he were alive today, we would be making great music together.

2002 was a hard year for me emotionally. After my heart surgery, bassist Peter Kowald died two days after I worked with him and then Dennis.


It’s Christmas time and the biggest gifts you can give anyone are love, kindness and forgiveness. I can't stress it enough. Make each day count and let your loved ones know how much you love them, 'cause it could be over in a flash!