Clark Terry wasn’t just a great trumpeter—he was a radiant human being whose life was a harmony of soul, swing, and service. I was lucky—blessed—to know Clark, hear him live many times, and call him a friend. The world felt brighter in his presence. The music felt deeper.
CT was one of those rare musicians you could identify in two notes flat. That buttery, golden tone—half sunlight, half velvet—could dance, croon, cry, or crack you up. His horn didn’t just play. It spoke. It whispered secrets, it shouted joy, it told jokes that made your soul chuckle. His phrasing was pure conversation—fluent, playful, alive.
He mentored a young Miles Davis in St. Louis. He played with both Count Basie and Duke Ellington, mastering the elegance of swing, then bridged generations to nurture the fire of bebop and beyond. Few musicians walked so gracefully between eras. Fewer still brought such humanity with them.
Technically, Clark was razor-sharp. But he never played for the sake of complexity. He played with heart. Especially on flugelhorn—his signature sound—he poured out warmth and wit and wonder. His time feel was sublime. Whether inside a tight ensemble or stretching out on his own, he swung like joy itself had learned to walk.
And of course—Mumbles. That gibberish scat character, slurring and stumbling with perfect pitch, was absurd and brilliant and unforgettable. It was satire and soul. It made people laugh—and through laughter, listen.
In his later years, Clark became a lighthouse for young musicians. He mentored thousands, from wide-eyed kids to future legends like Quincy Jones. He taught with patience, with joy, with a generosity that was downright spiritual. Born into poverty and shaped by racism, he refused to grow bitter. He grew better. He lifted people up. He opened doors. He gave more than he ever took.
Even when diabetes took his legs. Even when blindness set in. He kept teaching. He kept smiling. He kept swinging.
Watch Keep on Keepin’ On—his beautiful, aching documentary about mentoring blind pianist Justin Kauflin. It’ll break your heart wide open, then sew it back together with love and music.
In a business full of ego and insecurity, Clark was humble. Funny. Profoundly kind. He treated janitors and jazz royalty the same way—with respect, warmth, and a spark of mischief.
He was one of those rare souls whose greatness wasn’t just in how he played, but why. And who he was while doing it.
When I landed in New York City in 1968, it was my friend Richard Dubin who introduced me to one of the first jazz giants I’d ever meet—Clark Terry. We all know what a phenomenal trumpeter he was, but to know the man behind the horn—that was the real gift. Kind, wise, hilarious, and full of light. He’s gone, but the warmth he gave still lingers. He is missed. Big time.
I was a barely better-than-average high-school trumpet player when I borrowed my dad's car to drive to Toronto with two friends to see Clark Terry in a club with a local rhythm section in 1984. At the set break I told him I played in my school band and asked if he'd play "Ow," the Dizzy Gillespie tune. I'd heard him play it in Detroit several months earlier. Near the end of the next set, he said, "This next tune was requested by a *colleague* of mine..." and proceeded to absolutely breathe fire on "Ow." That's my story; thanks so much for yours.
The qualities in the music are a reflection of the qualities of the musician. So, the incredible spirit and joy in Mr. Terry’s music are only possible because he embodied them himself.
Todd, thanks so much for your beautifully written tribute to the wonderful trumpeter, Clark Terry. He had a great sense of humor and wonderful timing and of course an absolutely identifiable sound. I don't think I ever actually got a chance to meet him, but I do recall one day walking by a stage where he was the only one there. Either before or after he had performed. He looked at me as I walked by and played the trumpet introduction to a horse race that was about to start. I cracked up and he had that beautiful smile as an acknowledgment of my reaction.
I love reading your diaries. Very informative and always interesting. Thanks very much, Dan McClosky
Funny-I was just corresponding with a friend about how CT was the most easily identified trumpet player in jazz; all it takes is one phrase and you know who it is. It also brought to mind what the great New Orleans drummer Charles "Honeyboy" Otis told me years ago-"Always dress better than the audience-that way they know you're serious and deserve their attention". He always wore a suit even on the diviest of dive bar gigs.
He was a cool, kool cat. Funny, whitty, smart and always the greatest of players. Oh, man I just noticed I’m following Bret Primack with my comment. I agree with him, he can say it better than I can. I’ll just bless Clark Terry for being in my ears and his light shining for us all.
I so look forward to to reading your posts Todd. I get so much out of the. I also was taught a long time ago that they see you before they hear you and it can have a big effect on on others opinion of you as a performer and as a person. I’ve spent a fair amount of time over the years passing that same advice to both my students and musicians whom I have worked with. Thanks so much for sharing your seemingly bottomless wealth of knowledge 🎶🎶❤️🎶🎶
Clark Terry wasn’t just a great trumpeter—he was a radiant human being whose life was a harmony of soul, swing, and service. I was lucky—blessed—to know Clark, hear him live many times, and call him a friend. The world felt brighter in his presence. The music felt deeper.
CT was one of those rare musicians you could identify in two notes flat. That buttery, golden tone—half sunlight, half velvet—could dance, croon, cry, or crack you up. His horn didn’t just play. It spoke. It whispered secrets, it shouted joy, it told jokes that made your soul chuckle. His phrasing was pure conversation—fluent, playful, alive.
He mentored a young Miles Davis in St. Louis. He played with both Count Basie and Duke Ellington, mastering the elegance of swing, then bridged generations to nurture the fire of bebop and beyond. Few musicians walked so gracefully between eras. Fewer still brought such humanity with them.
Technically, Clark was razor-sharp. But he never played for the sake of complexity. He played with heart. Especially on flugelhorn—his signature sound—he poured out warmth and wit and wonder. His time feel was sublime. Whether inside a tight ensemble or stretching out on his own, he swung like joy itself had learned to walk.
And of course—Mumbles. That gibberish scat character, slurring and stumbling with perfect pitch, was absurd and brilliant and unforgettable. It was satire and soul. It made people laugh—and through laughter, listen.
In his later years, Clark became a lighthouse for young musicians. He mentored thousands, from wide-eyed kids to future legends like Quincy Jones. He taught with patience, with joy, with a generosity that was downright spiritual. Born into poverty and shaped by racism, he refused to grow bitter. He grew better. He lifted people up. He opened doors. He gave more than he ever took.
Even when diabetes took his legs. Even when blindness set in. He kept teaching. He kept smiling. He kept swinging.
Watch Keep on Keepin’ On—his beautiful, aching documentary about mentoring blind pianist Justin Kauflin. It’ll break your heart wide open, then sew it back together with love and music.
In a business full of ego and insecurity, Clark was humble. Funny. Profoundly kind. He treated janitors and jazz royalty the same way—with respect, warmth, and a spark of mischief.
He was one of those rare souls whose greatness wasn’t just in how he played, but why. And who he was while doing it.
Thanks, Bret. That’s what I meant to say. LOL!
When I landed in New York City in 1968, it was my friend Richard Dubin who introduced me to one of the first jazz giants I’d ever meet—Clark Terry. We all know what a phenomenal trumpeter he was, but to know the man behind the horn—that was the real gift. Kind, wise, hilarious, and full of light. He’s gone, but the warmth he gave still lingers. He is missed. Big time.
Yeah man, you say it best!
That documentary is wonderful, really showing the heart of the man. His autobiography is among the best of many I've read.
Bret, what a beautifu
lly written reminiscence about Clark Terry. Thanks for adding to Todd's excellent story about Clark.
Dan McClosky
I was a barely better-than-average high-school trumpet player when I borrowed my dad's car to drive to Toronto with two friends to see Clark Terry in a club with a local rhythm section in 1984. At the set break I told him I played in my school band and asked if he'd play "Ow," the Dizzy Gillespie tune. I'd heard him play it in Detroit several months earlier. Near the end of the next set, he said, "This next tune was requested by a *colleague* of mine..." and proceeded to absolutely breathe fire on "Ow." That's my story; thanks so much for yours.
Another great Coolman story from the jazz trenches.
Such wisdom you can only get from the masters.
You got me in the mood to hear some Clark.
Check this out:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N_gdQE5zyAY&list=PLZClW7CpBDuZW_KqittmgeJDB8HCSveNc&index=2
Clark Terry – Out On A Limb
Recorded July 26, 1957, At Sheldon Recording Studio, Chicago
Clark Terry, trumpet
Mike Simpson, tenor sax, flute
Remo Biondi, guitar
Willie Jones, piano
Jimmy Woode, bass
Sam Woodyard, drums
I met Sam Woodyard at an Ellington Orchestra rehearsal I was invited to at about 13 years old, so kind and open, a huge thrill.
The qualities in the music are a reflection of the qualities of the musician. So, the incredible spirit and joy in Mr. Terry’s music are only possible because he embodied them himself.
Hi Paul. That is obviously true in Clark’s case, but in my experience, it is not universal. I wish it was always the case.
Indeed! Hi Paul!
Todd, thanks so much for your beautifully written tribute to the wonderful trumpeter, Clark Terry. He had a great sense of humor and wonderful timing and of course an absolutely identifiable sound. I don't think I ever actually got a chance to meet him, but I do recall one day walking by a stage where he was the only one there. Either before or after he had performed. He looked at me as I walked by and played the trumpet introduction to a horse race that was about to start. I cracked up and he had that beautiful smile as an acknowledgment of my reaction.
I love reading your diaries. Very informative and always interesting. Thanks very much, Dan McClosky
Funny-I was just corresponding with a friend about how CT was the most easily identified trumpet player in jazz; all it takes is one phrase and you know who it is. It also brought to mind what the great New Orleans drummer Charles "Honeyboy" Otis told me years ago-"Always dress better than the audience-that way they know you're serious and deserve their attention". He always wore a suit even on the diviest of dive bar gigs.
Thanks for passing it on. He had beautiful tone and wonderful ideas.
As always, fantastic story!
Todd, you still amaze me with the stories of your career. You are a gift to everyone who knows you.
Thanks, Doug. I try my best, most of the time.
He was a cool, kool cat. Funny, whitty, smart and always the greatest of players. Oh, man I just noticed I’m following Bret Primack with my comment. I agree with him, he can say it better than I can. I’ll just bless Clark Terry for being in my ears and his light shining for us all.
And....Brother Clark (he used to call me "Sis") had the best jokes!
GREAT story...
I so look forward to to reading your posts Todd. I get so much out of the. I also was taught a long time ago that they see you before they hear you and it can have a big effect on on others opinion of you as a performer and as a person. I’ve spent a fair amount of time over the years passing that same advice to both my students and musicians whom I have worked with. Thanks so much for sharing your seemingly bottomless wealth of knowledge 🎶🎶❤️🎶🎶