2020 a year I shall never forget or forgive. Recently I sent a notice that Ian had recovered from Covid-19 and was leaving the hospital after 6 months to rehab. He did go to rehab and then back to the hospital and then finally home. We had Ian home after 7 1/2 months for 2 and ½ weeks and it was wonderful to finally feel we were on our way. Unfortunately, this was not to be. Last night we had to take him back to Cornell because of low blood pressure and oxygen levels which we have learned generally means an infection. My brilliant talented husband of 50 years heart stopped early this morning at approximately 1 AM. He had been well past the disease of Covid but each fight he had from stroke to heart surgery was directly related to this evil disease. I am devastated as well as our whole family, our two children Dara Finkel and her husband Chris Serpe, Abott Finkel and his wife Rosa Finkel, Ian’s brother Elliot Finkel and his wife Pamela Blake, our grandchildren, Isla Jane Serpe and Landen Finkel, Dr. Alan Manevitz and his wife Andrea and Benjamin their son and so many more family members. They have helped us and stood by us this year and gave us strength, which has been the most difficult year of our life. Our daughter Dara and I advocated throughout and not a moment did we relax until we got Ian home. He did make it home but for a short time. As we are still living through Covid-19 we will let you know when and where we will be able to give a farewell to this amazing man. The World’s Greatest Xylophonist, a funny man, so artistic, an author of many books, so complex as well as direct in all his thinking. There will never be another person like him as anyone who knows him knows. Please think of him and how he has touched you in your life and when the arrangements have been made, we would love for you to speak and share.

Please stay safe and wear your mask. Such a simple thing to help stop the devastation that our family has gone through. We will never be the same.

A Tribute to the World’s Greatest

For those not familiar with Ian’s creative and legendary accomplishments, he was a composer, arranger and orchestrator all which revolved around his dedication to celebrating the xylophone. Ian played the xylophone in an astonishingly unique manner that traversed all styles of music… 19th Century Virtuoso Violin music, Ragtime, Latin, Salsa, Jazz, Stride, Rock, Pop, Boogie-woogie, Soul, R+B, Heavy Metal, Rap, to name a few!!!

Ian was indeed the quintessential Xylophone Virtuoso as a result of his uncanny dedication to achieving a depth and breadth of excellence with a singularly unique and unprecedented approach to furthering the art form. As a composer/arranger, Ian was always available to any musician who needed a piece composed for them, or an arrangement re-arranged often times better than the original

Ian often held court in his upper west side NYC apartment commencing anywhere between 11:00pm and 1:00am. A session with Ian included the finest coffee, bagels from Zabars ( just around the corner) and of course, a cigar of extraordinary quality and girth. If you ca to Ian for a “one hour lesson” you were sure to be there for a minimum of 4 hours complete with sight reading, (which in Ian’s words would separate the wheat from the chaff) along with a tour of his personal library of big band charts, xylophone music, violin and piano music, scores, you name it… that rivaled the greatest musical collections anywhere in the world. His studio was the size of a postage stamp, yet he had a baby grand, a Leedy xylophone, a custom made tour xylophone for his cruise ship gigs and a vibraphone and  marimba which were most often used as a coat rack. Often times visitors would ask Ian to play the marimba or vibes and rarely if ever would he agree to do so because the xylophone was the center of his universe.

Mastering the xylophone, which by Ian’s standard had to include the ability to improvise, sight read and understand music theory, was Ian’s commitment and way of life much like any world class professional would approach and dedicate themselves to their craft. You could pass by his street level apartment most any day of the week at most any hour of the day and he would be practicing, (for a minimum of 4 to 6 hours a day) often times after he had played with the New York Philharmonic, a night club act, recording session, or had spent days/nights composing or arranging for any number of musicians who knew of Ian’s incredible musical knowledge and expertise.

Ian’s public persona was that of a debonair, stylish, larger than life musical personality who regardless of time of day or local would be dressed with his porkpie hat, bow tie and cigars securely filling his inside, tailored suit coat pocket.  In his personal life, one would find him at midnight working tirelessly attired in his undershirt, loss fitting practice clothes and enormous shoes literary and figuratively… (impossible to fill).

Ian was fiercely committed to his friends and colleagues. When you hired Ian to do a concert, it was not possible to hire Ian without hiring his proscribed list of band-members. Any organization that hired Ian was obligated to treat all of his band-members with equal dignity and respect and if there was a misstep, Ian would cancel the engagement, no exceptions, on the spot!!!!

Laughter and jokes were the bedrock of his existence. All phone calls, visits to his studio and concert sites began with Ian telling one of his hysterically funny jokes, stories or vamps about life and the absurdity of it all. When you were around Ian the fun factor was at 10, but when the xylophone mallet (baton) came down on an Ian Finkel engagement, the performance experience became intense, focused, outrageous and always entertaining.

Ian often performed recitals, concerts, recording sessions with his equally iconic pianist brother Elliot Finkel, his star-wife/actress Cheryl, Ian’s son Abbot on drumset and when they included their father in the act, the one and only Fyvush Finkel (the world renown Yiddish Theater actor and television star), no concert hall, nite club or cruise ship could contain the expression of their joy of life, of music making that oozed out of every pore of their collective family’s joy of being entertainers.

Lastly, I knew of Ian as a loving and generous friend. L’ Chaim, L’Chaim, To Life as his father Fyvush sang on many occasions as Tevye in Fiddler on the Roof… so that Ian could be the xylophonist and musician he became, for all ages.

Percussionists sometimes ask me if Ian Finkel is really the world’s greatest xylophonist. Looking back at vaudeville billings, there was no sense in just being a xylophonist – you had to be the greatest, the fastest, the youngest, the shortest, you get the idea. Ian prided himself on his ability to play hours of music from memory, make arrangements of any style of music for any instrumentation, and be able to entertain a crowd. He strove to be a virtuoso. In his estimation, that was no small undertaking.

He was extremely generous with his time and thoughts, whether you wanted to hear them or not. He would tell and retell stories about playing for legendary xylophonist Harry Breuer. According to Ian, Harry buried him the first time they met. There was a passage Ian may have struggled with, and Breuer walked up to the instrument, with pencil in hand, playing four-mallet xylophone “like a tarantula on acid.” Years later he would go back to give Breuer a run for his money. Ian only ever bulldozed me, and no matter how much I practice, I’ll never have the chance to return the favor. I’m deeply grateful for the few times we played together. It never felt like we were playing duets, I was just trying to keep up.

When I started playing xylophone a lot on the subway platforms in New York I went to Ian for a lesson. Hundreds of New York percussionists must have had that experience. First, he would threaten to destroy whatever hard rubber mallets you brought, then listen to something prepared, sight-reading, standards with two mallets, four mallets, improvisation, more sight-reading, etc. He didn’t believe in an hour lesson, the lesson went until there was no sense in continuing. Then, he’d wonder why nobody ever took weekly lessons anymore.

Ian is the person who most encouraged me to focus on the xylophone. He would frequently refer to Heifetz as a great violin virtuoso, not someone who played the whole string family. A virtuoso could make one instrument sound, stylistically or otherwise, like a whole orchestra. This was hard for me to hear as a percussionist, but I tried to listen. When talking about the popularity of the xylophone, he would hyperbolically quote vibraphonist David Friedman. According to Ian, Friedman told him bandleaders would sooner hire a ninth or nineteenth trumpet before hiring a vibraphonist; so imagine how many trumpets before hiring a xylophonist! This just meant the way to work was to lead your own band, arrange for that band, and do it all.

Whenever I asked a question about arranging or playing he would give a simple answer that always sent me looking for more. He’d say there’s a third, a seventh, so you have a tri-tone, now go figure out what you want to do with that. I always thought Ian was some sort of self-taught genius, but the more we spoke the more it became evident how much he studied and listened. He just did it on his own terms. There wasn’t much compromise involved. Integrity was the most important aspect.

He was always supportive of me while making sure I knew he hated that I dressed up in animal costumes to play. To him, it was either demeaning to the instrument, or disrespectful to the art and history of comedy. I learned to try not to defend myself, but instead take his lead and do my own thing. Once, he told me he wrote a character based on me into a story. The character got run over by a subway train. He changed my identity though, instead of a skunk or pink gorilla, I was a frog, so nobody would know who it was. That’s how I knew I was making progress as a xylophonist. I started reading his stories after hearing this, to find out if he was serious or not. Ian lived in a space of hysterical non-fiction, stranger than fiction. With his music and stories he provided a trip that his audiences were lucky to go on. We all felt it in that moment.

I frequently hear people describe Ian as “old school,” when in fact he drew from all sorts of traditions and created his own versions of things that were exciting, and more often than not, entertaining. He didn’t want to talk about old xylophonists from a bygone era. He urged me to talk about what was happening now, to do things now and live in the present.

I can’t say if Ian continued to practice, read, and write, so many hours a day for his entire life, but I know he kept pushing himself. I remember a meeting when we didn’t have much time, but he handed me about 200 pages of manuscript. He wrote out over 100 guitar pieces, all with three or more sharps or flats in the key signature: “Here, this is for you to read.” Now, it’s difficult enough to read six sharps with four mallets, but in Finkel’s hand, good luck. I image that he read every one of those, and may not have missed a note.

An era of xylophone playing is now over. The golden age of xylophone may have ended in the 1930s, but Ian gave it an addendum. He took music from every decade, going back to the Baroque era and covering everything to garage punk, and arranged it for the xylophone and his various ensembles. He gave the xylophone a new life, and even though record executives didn’t flock to it as they may have in the 1920s and 30s, that didn’t stop him. 

As Ian said: “I am the world’s greatest xylophonist because all the others are gone now, so I win by default.” I would say Ian is the world’s greatest xylophonist because of his commitment to the instrument, and to bringing us tears of joy, laughter, and awe. For anyone who got to know him, hear him, or read him, Ian Finkel will never be forgotten.

Ian Finkel, as all of us know, was an extraordinarily gifted and talented musician with a great sense of humor.

I first met Ian several years back through our mutual dear friends Bernie & Joanne Furshpan. It was at the Metropolitan Room where I came to see and review shows featuring the 3 Finkels – Fyvush, Elliott and Ian. Of course, I was familiar with them but one can’t help be blown away by them every time. . . an understatement!

The brothers Finkel continued to do their act together after their Dad’s passing. Ian’s mallets flying across the xylophone always amazed me, making extraordinary sounds, his entire body and soul wrapped up in the joy of the moment. Together they sang, laughed and brought great delight to their audiences.

I came to know Ian even better when we’d meet at the July 4^th parties the Furshpans would have at their home. Ian was smart, had really definitive opinions and possessed the art of precise delivery. It was always a pleasure to be in his presence.

He left us much too soon and I‘m honored to have known Ian and his wife Cheryl, a wonderful singer. He’s a star shining above and I’m happy to celebrate his life and, at the same time, send condolences to his special family. 

My heart is breaking for you, Dara, Elliot and the rest of the family, but at the same time, I can’t help but smile every time I think of Ian.  To call him one-of-a-kind is a vast understatement.  He was incredibly gifted, brilliant, a loyal friend, hysterically funny, and possessed a fierce integrity that is all too rare.

He was also an unparalleled storyteller, a consummate artist, and a true showbiz renaissance man.  Without question, he was one of the most unique people on earth, and has earned a well-deserved place in the ranks of New York’s greatest characters of all time.

But above all, he was a devoted family man, who loved all of the Finkels – and “honorary Finkels” – utterly and unconditionally.

He was so proud of the great heritage of his parents and beloved brother Elliot, and doted on his children and grandchildren.  And I often noticed the way he looked at you, Cheryl, when we’d rehearse  – arranging and directing your shows was such a labor of love for him.  He was so excited to be able to support you in your endeavors.

Of course, I’ll never forget how kind and generous Ian was to me.  And by the way – I hate to keep using the word “was,” as Ian’s vibrant embrace of life will live on in our hearts, and will continue to inspire us always.

Please know that all of you are on my mind and in my heart at this most difficult time.

With much love.

Aside of his love for music, he surely loved his grandkids. Loved celebrating both his birthday and Caley’s, loved to teach Landen the Trumpet, loved his grand fur babies, from Luke, Bo to Duke.  Ian always said he would love to have a big dog like Duke.

My favorite story of Ian…..

We went shopping and left the two beagles with him to watch. When we called to ask how they were, he said, fine, don’t even hear them, that’s when I knew they were up to no good.  Sure enough they had made a mess, knocked over the plants, dirt on the floor, knocked over everything and anything.  But he didn’t care, no one was hurt, they had fun.  That was Ian.

We love you and miss you,

Abott, Rosa & Landen

Download (PDF, Unknown)

Fate did me a favor one day when Ian Finkel brought in the Sophie Tucker tribute show he had written and directed for his wife (the talented  Cheryl Ann Allen).

Ian was always immaculately dressed, not unlike a Batman TV villain, complete with bowler hat and cigar.

He had an active and wild mind, with a persistent madcap element, and affection for classic flim-flam.  Kind of a carnival barker naughtiness.  When he advertised the show, he wrote an elaborate Broadway World press release that touted the (posthumous) return of the actual Sophie Tucker onstage, without ever mentioning Cheryl.

Ian and I hit it off.  His mind was a treasure chest of show biz knowledge and experiences.  He had a love of vaudeville and a direct connection to lower east side yiddish theater history, thanks to his famous dad (fyvush).  Ian, like his dad, was a performer all his life.  He once said you had to audition to get into the family.

Ian, a musician by trade, was too creative to stick to one discipline.  He wrote, directed, and developed projects, and approached each new idea with the kind of passion and enthusiasm that most people lose after reaching adulthood.

He wrote lurid pulp fiction , dime store novels.  He gave me a pre-release copy of his novel “Vaudeville 1922”, a yarn packed with historical anecdotes about the golden era of theater.  A little bit of that history is now lost, as the book isn’t yet approved on kindle, and the webpage has lapsed.

And that is another part of Ian’s story- although his was a life spent performing and creating new works, their blinking beacon on the radar of show business was never as bright as Ian might have hoped.   He had a great career as a musician, doing big shows on cruise ships and in big bands, but his Ed Sullivan moment never quite happened.  Like many of us, he wanted to hear a big splash each time he put up a new piece, and it broke his heart a little when, to his ear, it was a kerplop.  

He dealt with this idea in his work, with typical excitement and creativity, mounting a musical with puppets called “The Neverwuzez”.  To me, Ian was an inspiration and a kindred spirit.

He also happened to be the world’s greatest xylophone player. It was a moniker that he gave himself, that was never challenged.  One reason it was never challenged was that he was an incredibly good and accomplished xylophone player. But another reason, as Ian well knew, was because his personal brand was simply not wide-reaching enough for greater society to notice he was calling himself that. Ian was happy to use this fact to his advantage because what else good would lack of fame do him?  Another bravo from me.

In 2016, Ian was kind enough to do a cameo in a video serial we were working on.   I am happy to have captured a tiny snippet of his spirit and musicality, and have uploaded his cameo here.  Ian was a true artist, a good guy, an inspiration.

Ian and I met when he was asked to sub for me at the original version of the broadway show,”La Cage aux Folles” in 1983. It was primarily a “mallet” book. He was recommended to me by the contractor. That began our friendship. He then asked me to play percussion in his band and we played a lot of concerts through the years. We played percussion together on the TV soap opera “All my Children” and with the Xavier Cugat orchestra.We recorded as a section together for many TV shows and records. Ian would always play the majority of the mallet parts and I would play whatever else had to be covered. Ian was a great mallet sight reader and was never caught short reading. A typical session would have the music on the stand as we arrived and Ian would look through the book and say,”Sight reading”dismissively  and then close the book. He would then proceed to tell jokes and stories and not look at the music again until the conductor started the recording date. He was a prodigious sight-reader and musician. I never heard a mistake by Ian in a recording session! He is sorely missed by me. He was the last of the generation of New York mallet players that made their way in the business because of their great reading skills. A skill that is not so much in demand these days sadly. Times have changed, but the memory of the real thing lives on in my mind with Ian. I was lucky to have known him and I will think of him often. To those that didn’t know Ian, the world lost a life force. Sad day for all. 

What can one say about Ian Finkel my friend for over fifty years that has not already been said?  Many people including those who knew him would refer to Ian as ‘old school’ or a ‘throwback’ to the days of GH Green, Harry Breuer, Sammy Herman, and Teddy Brown to which Ian did not take the reference as an insult rather a compliment. A compliment to a day when one would dedicate themselves to mastering an art form to the highest level. Ian did exactly that…mastered the art of xylophone playing, arranging, and becoming a musician’s musician by raising the bar to a level for all to strive to achieve. His knowledge of every era and genre of music was profound and he would speak about the Baroque, Classical, Romantic, or the Modern Period with the same depth and passion as speaking about xylophone playing. There will only be one Ian Finkel, I will miss our phone calls, his stories, and his laugh.

After  a couple of iterations of my show “I Won’t Dance” fully orchestrated by Elliot and Ian, it was decided by my manager at the time, Peter Ligeti, to produce a streamlined version at the John Drew Theatre in Easthampton.  I was thrilled that Ian and his brillioant music-making was course to be part of this version. He came out a couple days before for the on site rehearsals. and was housed in a small cottage nearby . Wee heard him practising non-stop, as was his wont.

We also noted that he always was smoking a cigar. To the traditional joys of that activity he added the opinion that he wanted to keep smoke in the air because, as a dyed-in-the-wool New Yorker, he wasn’t particularly comfortable breathing air he couldn’t see. He also mentioned that when he heard the sound of a large, slow-moving truck going by he would throw down his mallets and race outside in order to run behind the exhaust pipe. He said it gave him a feeling of comfort and home.

Ian was a Musician, Playwright, and Author, so accomplished, trying to summarize his career without diminishing it, feels like a task doomed to fail. It’s been wonderful to see the outpouring of kind words from his peers, to get a scope of his influence and legacy. What I can say is that Ian was a Man of Action- he did things. He didn’t think about learning an instrument, or writing a book, he decided to do them, learned them, practiced, did them well, then kept learning and practicing. In art and life, he did everything big, and left us wanting more.

Ian loved being an American not because it was easy, but because it was hard. He made it a point to buy American, patronize small businesses that hired the unwanted, showed up when he was needed. He wore his flag pins with pride, marched for the rights of people he never met, and opened up a mouth when something was wrong, even if it meant having to book less gigs or look for a new dentist. If you told him to pick his battles, he’d probably smile and say “Why Choose?” 

In that vein, on Ian’s behalf, I’d like to extend a final fuck you to:

The Outgoing Administration

The Pierre Hotel Events staff

Cruise Ships

Airlines

The City of Cartagena 

The State of West Virginia

The country of Brunei

Figurative Nazis

Literal Nazis 

and Wedding DJs

My Father in Law was a man of taste and style. He enjoyed the experience of watching a cigar made while talking to the person rolling it, and with the other regulars in the shop as much as the smoke itself. He loved the adventure of finding a new restaurant (as long as it had an A rating from the Dept. of Health), spice shop, or exotic recipe. He wore custom shirts, the sharpest suits, and the occasional Fez. He enjoyed a straight-razor shave, and never left his home with a hair out place or an unpolished cuticle. He was the easiest person to get gifts for.

More than anything, Ian was a connoisseur of people. He loved to spend time with musicians who loved music, comedians who loved comedy, and anyone who was great at what they did because they loved what they did; whether they were a Musical Virtuoso or a Shoe Shine. He had a nose for bullshit, and a very exclusive list of people he chose to keep company with. I am blessed that he chose to share his family and life with me. I am beyond grateful that we have all of you to show Isla who her Grandfather was.

“The leader of the band is tired and his eyes are growing old

But his blood runs through my instrument and his song is in my soul

My life has been a poor attempt to imitate the man

I’m just a living legacy to the leader of the band”

It was an honor for me to be invited by Ian Finkel to play with him in many of his musical projects over thirty-five years. Each one was unique, well-researched, and beautifully arranged. He really enjoyed exploring all types of music and, while he always maintained historical accuracy for each style, he skillfully left his own personal signature within each arrangement. It was a joy to play anything written by him. Every note was written out, so any performance or recording was a real workout — I often wished I’d brought a ‘page turner’ along. Every one of us in the band loved the challenge, and his writing made us sound great!

His xylophone performances were beyond thrilling, and he dazzled audiences anywhere he played. I always liked to compare his amazing musicianship to that of the highest grade of a diamond: The Utmost Fire and Brilliance! He certainly delivered that every time!

As a band leader he always cared for us and made sure we had everything we needed for the performance, whether it was an extension cord or a cup of coffee. He knew that a performance of his was going to be something unique and special, and he was determined that everyone in the room experience the same joy he did. It truly was exhilarating to ride along with him on a musical trip around the world, or into the stars.

I will forever cherish his wit, the many laughs we had, and our wonderful friendship. He will never be replaced, and will never, ever be forgotten!

Ian, All My Love and Respect — Forever!  

I cannot begin to fathom the scale of your loss and that of the rest of your family. For myself, over the last 24 hours, I’ve been trying to process your email and accept the void that is now part of all of our lives. I had always assumed (perhaps naively given the seriousness of his condition) that one day we would again gather over a meal and feel the warmth and wit that was an indelible part of Ian. I don’t have many friendships that have lasted over forty-five years and certainly none that are as comfortable or easy as my relationship was with Ian. There were times when we didn’t speak for months and the next phone call proceeded as though we had been chatting just that afternoon. While we never asked much of each other, I always felt that he cared for my well being as I did for his – perhaps that was the foundation. Our lives may have changed (I still remember his disbelief forty-three years ago when I told him I was going back to college in Virginia) but we still cared about what each other was doing. From that silly evening at The Manor 45+ years ago to this past January when ironically he called several times with concern about my recently developed health issues, I have been variously entertained, informed, rewarded, fulfilled, delighted and felt loved by my friend Ian.  As others have more eloquently noted on Facebook and other places, his talents were unique and our loss is shared by many.   

He was a most unconventional person with a very conventional love of family and sense of the right or proper thing to do. To paraphrase the traditional Jewish condolence – “May his memory be a blessing”.

Ian Finkel was a first class talent and a first class gentleman on stage and off. We all were most fortunate to have been in his world. 

Ian Finkel – one of the world’s greatest xylophone virtuosos passed away on Nov 16.  A wonderful soul left this Earth.  I had the privilege of working with Ian and Cheryl Ann Allen in 2009 in Ian’s solo musical “Ian Talks- Louie Walks” a one-man show (with a bunch of other people) Directed by Lewis Stadlen.

(You guessed it— I was a bunch of the other people )

He was a legendary music arranger and authored many musicology monographs.

His dad was the famous Yiddish theater actor Fyvush Finkel and Ian’s brother Elliot Finkel is a renowned pianist. 

Not only did Ian have an encyclopedic knowledge of music but also of the entertainment industry and theater history.

Ian was compassionate, shrewd and funny, a highly artistic man, and a prolific author of many wonderful books: You’re Not Supposed to Be Here, Three Is The Charm, Sex Stories My Wife Told Me, Transmutation Blues and Vaudeville 1922. 

Ian Finkel wrote and arranged for some of the best like Michael Feinstein, Sid Caesar, Tito Puente, Ginger Rogers, Madeline Kahn . . . he wrote for numerous television shows, film and live performances. He performed concerts worldwide.

He was always supportive and encouraging “write a book! write a book! write a book!” 

We shared many laughs and “were each other’s biggest fans” ( I know, I know—- get in line— we were ALL his biggest fans!) John and I are so saddened by his death as are so many of us whose soul he touched. We are keeping Cheryl, Elliot, Dara and Abott in our hearts.

Ian was larger than life. He harkened back to the days gone by in the music and performance industries in NYC, the good days. He was a true renaissance man. His talents encompassed not only virtuosic musicianship, but composing and arranging music in multiple styles, writing prose, musicals, and of course humor.

My first experience in working with Ian was playing in an ensemble he put together, as always combining jazz, classical, and latin music. Of course his playing was dazzling, but the love he had for the music and the respect he showed for his fellow musicians was truly inspiring. His humor was infectious but when it came time to play he was all business.

I loved him as a friend and cherished his work ethic and the energy he put into all of his projects. Some of my favorite memories are of hanging around between acts or rehearsals with the Finkels, of course Fyvush presiding , and Ian and Elliot talking about life and performance experiences..tons of laughs and what an education. Ian’s love and respect for his dad and brother was great to witness.

I will miss him as all who knew and loved him will. The cigar, the hat, and his zest and love he had for music, life, family, and friends will remain with me forever.

I was a friend of Ian’s; I play marimba, and that was our initial connection. I am planning on attending the Zoom memorial this Friday.  It may interest you to learn, as I am sure you already do know, how many people Ian touched with his amazing spirit.

Ian was a very special person in my life, someone a generation older than me in the same profession who served as a role model to me. Ian took me under his wing, helped me, advised me, encouraged me, and took pleasure when I would do well in music. I never took formal lessons with Ian; we were more like friends who often talked about business. I am not sure I have ever had such a special friendship as I had with your father.

When I saw the online reactions to Ian’s passing, I was overwhelmed by the number of people who professed to having a special relationship with him, just like I did. I realized that because Ian was such a unique personality, many people were touched by him in their lives, and all those people felt as I did: that my relationship with Ian Finkel was the special one, when in fact it was Ian who made so many relationships special because of his spirit for life.

I hope that in some small way this brief message has meaning to you, and helps you in this time of grief. Ian touched many people throughout his life, and brightened life generally. His spirit survives in my heart, and in the lives of the many people he influenced.

If there is anything I can do to assist you and your family, I would be happy to help.

As I would sign off to Ian . . “Rosewood Regards,”

In the 80’s, Ian and I were co-hosts of a memorial concert for Harry Breuer, a wonderful ragtime xylophonist.  Ian did several arrangements for a small ensemble which included me playing vibes. At the first rehearsal I was not able to sight-read all the music, and when I left parts out Ian stopped and asked me what was the problem.  I told him, “Write human parts.”  Years later at the Barnes & Noble book-signing for “You’re Not Supposed to Be Here” I asked him to autograph a copy.  He wrote in it “Read human books.”

So here’s one of many of my favorite Ian stories. We’re on HAL (Holland America Line) together with comedian Marty Brill, there’s a “new” act on. Leading up to her performance she was very full of herself and her show bio in the program read like this was going to be the greatest show biz event of all time. So the 3 of us are sitting in the back. This “act” is a singer that plays an instrument. Within the first 5 minutes of the show, Marty says “I’m out of here” and Ian says in his “quiet” loud voice. “WE STAYIN FOR THE MUSIC”, now the act is a singing act, terrible and equally bad “patter”, five more minutes go by and both Marty and I are equally ready leave, Ian again say’s in a very loud “whisper” …”we’re staying” with his arms held out in front of him, palms to the floor. She then picks up her instrument played 3 notes and Ian stands up and says “That’s enough” and out he went and us behind him. Thank heavens we were in the back, but your Dad wouldn’t have cared where we were. Love and blessings to the family. He’ll never be gone.