Howard (Howie) Leess, 1920-2003

Our dear friend and comrade Howard (Howie) Leess, an original member of the Greater Metropolitan Klezmer Band, died early on Saturday, August 23, 2003. Born in Brooklyn in 1920, Howie had his first music lessons from his immigrant father, then studied with renowned klezmer stylist Shloymke Beckerman, and later learned American popular musical stylings from the likes of Merle Johnston and Joe Allard. His life-long career on clarinet and tenor saxophone began while he was still in his teens during the Depression era in the Catskill mountain resorts, playing klezmer as well as working with swing bands and society orchestras, a repertoire range which he performed throughout his professional life.

For years Howie was a regular with both mainstream musical groups like the Lester Lanin Orchestras, where he played not only as all-around reedman on Dixieland, showtunes, and big band arrangements but also as the Jewish feature specialist, and with traditional Jewish music groups, such the ("fabulous") four Epstein Brothers - the group depicted in the German-made documentary film A Tickle in the Heart - and other klezmer and Hasidic ensembles. He recorded with several of these, such as the Rudy Tepel Hasidic Orchestra, Or Chadash, and the Negina Orchestra. Howie Leess' work on tenor sax in a smaller-ensemble setting is documented on the revivalist Klezmer Plus! recording [Flying Fish Records, 1991], including Yiddish theater medleys and "Old Time Yiddish Dance Music" with Sid Beckerman on clarinet. A couple of years later, it was Howie Leess' own evocative clarinet doyna (improvisational klezmer rubato piece in the style of a Rumanian shepherd's melody) which lent inspiration for the incipient Metropolitan Klezmer group to form, with the doyna as the central project in a demo tape with Leess as a founding member of the original Greater Metropolitan Klezmer Band in 1994.

When Eve Sicular, the drummer and Metropolitan Klezmer bandleader-to-be, proposed the recording session and new band idea to Howie, with whom she and GMKB co-founders Ismail Butera, Michael Hess and Dave Hofstra had been playing a few times, he immediately agreed to the idea, saying to her, "I love seeing a woman run the business!" The session was originally scheduled for early 1994 but then had to be postponed for many months after Howie was in a serious car accident. At first noone knew if Howie would ever play again, but he recovered completely from injuries including a broken neck, and in November the band was reunited in the recording studio. Howie's Doyna and his version of Der Gasn Nigun (The Street Tune, an instrumental processional melody), initially produced for a medley on the band's first tape, were eventually re-released as tracks on Metropolitan Klezmer's Surprising Finds [Rhythm Media Records, May 2003], to Howie's approval and delight.

In 1998, Howie and his wife Shirley moved from Long Island to Pittsford NY, outside Rochester, to live closer to one of their sons. Though semi-retired, Howie continued to perform as special guest with what was by then called Metropolitan Klezmer, including shows in the Rochester area, and an appearance at the Kaufmann Concert Hall of the 92nd Street Y in June, 2001. He was also still travelling to perform for a Yiddish Radio Project tour on the West Coast, several KlezCamp concerts and workshops, and various musical assignments with the Lanin band and others.

Whenever he performed as a featured player, Howie was virtuosic yet never overstated, the unpretentious star of the show; audiences adored him. His evocative, soulful style came right from the heart. In his fluid work as an accompanist, he intuitively streamed forth with one beautifully-phrased obbligato line after another. As for Howie's legendary ear for improvising inner harmonies, in styles from big band to small klezmer ensemble, I believe it was Pete Sokolow who said to me that this ability to find the hidden musical way through had earned Howie the bandstand nickname "the mountain goat." He had a wonderful smile, a twinkle in his eye, a gentle bubbling giggle, a consummate professionalism linked with a caring willingness to serve, an unfailing sense of dignity and style, and a devoted sense of friendship.

His sweet tone on both saxophone and clarinet was infused with deep musical feeling and effervescent yet seamless technique, whether on folkloric material, Yiddish theater favorites, or Great American Songbook standards, which he knew by the hundreds. His sweetness was also evident in his astute yet mentshlekh ways in the music business. His endearing, energetic presence, quiet dignity on and off the bandstand, and his progressive worldviews made him at home everywhere, in nightclubs, synagogues, and concert halls and at simkhes [celebrations] from Satmar Hasidic weddings to a bar mitzvah held at Allen Ginsburg's loft complete with beat poetry readings. At an early Greater Metropolitan Klezmer Band gig which was part of a Jewish feminist benefit event near Philadelphia, Howie sat in the back listening to Irena Klepfisz, an out lesbian Yiddishist poet. He smiled throughout her reading, though a few of the words made him blush, and then said, "She's great!"

And here's a story of generations which the band just learned: I called Ismail Butera, our Metropolitan Klezmer accordionist, on the morning Howie had died to tell him the news Shirley had emailed. Later that day, Ismail was visiting his mother and talking about old times. Like Howie, whose first music lessons were from his immigrant father, Ismail learned early on from his father, Duka ("Duke") Butera. Ismail and I had played together with Howie since at least 1990, and we had all performed and recorded together for years since, but somehow it was only this weekend, later on the same day when Howie had just died, that Ismail's mother picked up on Howie's name and told him that she and Ismail's father had known the Leeses for years. When the Albanian-American Buteras first met them in the 1940s, Howie and Shirley were newly married, living in a one-bedroom house in Coney Island. Duke and Howie worked together at New York-area music jobs, and Duke (who died many years ago now) always said that Howie was the nicest musician he ever met. "Remember, how Daddy would say that?," she told Ismail.

Knowing Howie was always a joy and a pleasure, and we are so grateful for all the loving guidance and support he shared with us. He is survived by Shirley, their two sons, and their grandchildren in New York and California. We miss him and wish his family well. May his memory continue as a blessing.