Life Comes Full-Circle

All of us have been influenced by others in our lives. Most whom I've glanced off of in my life know me as a broadcaster. And there--I have many influences; too many to mention here.

But, perhaps, my biggest individual earthly influence in my life--then to now--has been a guitar teacher.

I first met Frank Mullen in 1969. My father was searching for someone to "take me to the next level." I guess he figured it was his money buying my toys; I should actually learn to play with them. My father had many contacts and got in touch with Frank through a friend, jazz legend Charlie Byrd, who, in so many words, said if I could get in with Frank; I should at all cost.

Frank Mullen taught upstairs at the old walk-up Sophocles Papas Guitar Shop (aka The Guitar Shop) on Connecticut Avenue, which I believe is still there. For the uninitiated--Papas was to the modern-day classical guitar what Yehudi Menuhin was to the violin. Papas could sit down with a $90 Goya and make it talk. Papas was worshipped and the back room on the first floor was reserved for him--and his students. You rarely saw him.

I was a very nervous 14 year old when I got off the DC Transit bus at 20th and K that first day. Back then, kids could ride for a quarter and Metro wasn't even on the drawing board. I brought my '65 Fender Telecaster, bought from junior high classmate Humphrey Astorga for $250 in 1968. If you're not aware; that guitar today--even in so-so condition, can bring thousands. Back then, it was "Pre-CBS," meaning it was made before Fender was bought out by CBS in 1967-68. What's funny about this is the CBS-made Fender gear was just fine, but lore had made it such that no one would be caught dead with "Post-CBS" Fender gear. Now--the Post-CBS Fender stuff is also worth thousands. Go figure.

Frank and I said hello. He asked what I wanted to accomplish. I don't remember what I said but I don't think it was remarkable. He plugged my Tele into a little Princeton Reverb behind us under a table. I played for him but think I probably fell flat on my face. He played a few things but nothing that would knock a kid out. He handed the guitar back to me, got up and left the room.

Mullen returned with a Mel Bay Level 1 guitar book and a large, Passatino spiral-bound staff book (blank staff pages). While I watched, he used a guitar fret hand stamp to carefuly stamp frets on a page of staff paper. When finished, he opened the Mel Bay book, bracketed a few exercises, then showed me what all the handwritten stuff was about. Then, Frank said, "I think you can do this. But you'll have to work hard. You'll have to practice every day...as long as it takes. But there will be a day when it all comes to you. Then, you won't need me anymore."

I thought that was interesting, coming from someone whose at least partial livelihood came from maintaining a student clientele. But, in some ways, he would be right.

Frank then played a few other things for me which did knock me out. And, after picking myself off the rug, I went home and practiced. And practiced. And practiced.

By the time next Tuesday at 4 rolled around, I was ready. I nailed the lesson and Frank was elated. For the first time in my young life, I had found truly positive feedback. I ate it up.

Every Tuesday afternoon for nearly four years, I would make the two-bus trek from Arlington to 1216 Connecticut Avenue, NW. The Passatino staff book gradually filled with Frank's teachings. Eventually, there would be three staff books containing decades of knowledge from someone whom I would find out had already forgotten more about music than I would ever know. I kept practicing and playing.

As the months went on, I improved. Although I suppose I already had the "aptitude;" Frank was opening doors for me by showing me key concepts and allowing me to soak it in my way. And, somewhere along the middle of 10th grade, it all started to come together.

As I improved, I played more, eventually playing six nights a week in high school. I won soloist awards, played solo guitar at Blues Alley on Friday and Saturday nights at 17 (for the AFM rate of $15 an hour), recorded, played in many area bands (this is before disco put everyone out of work), took summer classes at Berklee and Peabody and suddenly had to decide whether I would live my life as a gigging musician, go to music school or get a real job.

Then, Frank said he was leaving town. He, his wife and daughter would move to St. Petersburg, Florida, where he would run the new Charlie Byrd music store. I was heartbroken. And I think, in a way, Frank was, too. He grew up in DC; went to Maryland. His family and friends were here. But I also think he saw an opportunity and a retirement policy at the same time. And he hated winter. Frank was 41 when he, wife Donna and daughter Veva moved to Florida.

Just when I thought I didn't need Frank anymore is when I probably needed him most. And now; he was gone.

Byrd had started a chain of guitar-centered music stores catering to hard-core enthusiasts, including hard-to-find items and pro-level lessons. Apparently, it didn't last all that long, as Frank would soon join the faculty of St. Petersburg Junior College to start a guitar program. He would stay on the faculty for 32 years. Frank would mentor many up-and-coming guitarists, including Carl Amundson, who would later form The Modern Guitar Quintet; a group modeled exactly after Mullen's "Swinging Guitars" group of years past.

In the earlier days of the Internet; I search-engined Frank (I don't think Google was around then), found Amundson and managed to get a message to Frank after 25 years. Frank didn't do computers, but Carl wrote me back and told me how happy Frank was to hear from me...that I was one of "the players" from the "old days." According to Frank; if you were a "player," you really knew how to play. And that was Frank's thing: He turned out great guitar players. Frank's wife, Donna, emailed me back soon after Carl...said the same thing; mostly that Frank was so happy to hear from me.

Those things mean a lot as you get older.

I hadn't played anything for a long time when, in 1995, I heard a CD by an astounding jazz organist I would later learn was Joey DeFrancesco. I decided there and then I wanted to start playing again...this time on the Hammond B3, my other favorite instrument. And although I never returned to guitar, it was what I learned from Frank Mullen that made it so easy to transition to a completely different instrument. That's because Frank Mullen taught concept. Anyone can learn scales and other fundamentals. It's concept that makes or breaks a musician. You're not supposed to be able to teach concept; that comes from within. But Frank Mullen could...and did.

Frank Mullen died June 5th at 78. I just found out about it. Carl says Frank was recently diagnosed with colon cancer; it had already spread elsewhere. He lasted five weeks.

Frank Mullen, by anyone's measure, had a fascinating life. His resume as a performer was astonishing enough. But his legacy as an educator may not be measurable. As news of his death trickles through the Internet; it's a good bet Carl Amundson and others will become clearinghouses for a waterfall of memories from his former students and fellow musicians.

Everyone who sits down to play for a living owes their career to someone. I owe mine to a man who could have made a fortune as a performer, but became even wealthier in spirit by the lives and careers he touched as a teacher. There are a lot of fine guitar players in this world because of Frank Mullen. I am honored to have been part of that man's life.

sean hall