Ron Carter

Ron Carter

Ever the gentleman, legendary jazz bassist Ron Carter welcomes me into his Upper West Side digs with Chimes ginger chews, nimbly unwrapping for me the famously hard-to-open sticky candy with ease, grace, and characteristic courtliness. When I mention how much I love ginger, he grins and shares, almost conspiratorially, where to get the best ginger sweets in New York City–a little Japanese spot downtown.

Apologizing for what will be intermittent noise–the sounds of kitchen renovation– he sits in a Barcelona chair to chat, exuding relaxed elegance in a French cuff shirt and braces; no tie, collar unbuttoned. As photographer Henry Adebonojo snaps off some shots, Sir Ron (he is, after all, Commandeur des Ordre des Artes et Lettres, the highest cultural honor in France) is at turns genial, wry, and reflective.

Only because his accomplishments are well-documented would one know that this trim, vital man is rounding out his eighth decade on the planet. “I have a few years on my calendar,” he chuckles. Non-drinking and only occasionally pipe-smoking, he, as his schedule allows works out with a trainer three mornings a week. It shows. Equally well-cared for is the instrument he’s played since 1959; a Juzek bass crafted in Prague in 1910.

In February 1937, Ferndale, Michigan saw the opening of the “fancy” Radio City Theater, a boost during the Great Depression that would provide cinematic entertainment to the community for the next forty years. On May 4, in the rural “black” part of town, the fifth of Lutheran and Willie Carter’s eight children was born. His birth heralded a talent who would share his musical gifts for more than fifty years through performance, recording and teaching; an artist who would immeasurably impact the jazz canon.

Ronald Levin Carter recalls the dusty roads of his proud neighborhood where James Weldon Johnson’s “Lift Ev’ry Voice and Sing” was the anthem of note. “The Star Spangled Banner” was just “some ballgame tune on the radio.” The course of his life was set in 1947 when his mother learned that the local Grant School received an array of musical instruments. She told her children to each pick one. Ron grabbed a cello and his sister Sandy a bass (they would for a time play cello-bass duos around town.) The reserved Ron realized that with his aluminum cello, he could make aggressive sound, offering him a “voice” that countered his innate shyness. Even though, all the Carter siblings played a musical instrument, Ron alone took it to “this extreme that I am going through” he laughs.

He acknowledges that he has a God-given talent, but honing his craft, mastering his instrument has been the result of years of dedication and concerted effort. He rejects the notion of genetic musicality frequently heaped upon artists of African descent; he finds it reductive. If he’s reached the pinnacle, it’s not because of some magical negro gene, but the fruition of his labors.