Ed Clute plays a tune on his Mason-Hamlin grand piano at his

Photos By John Fulmer

T
Watkins Glens home. Clute will headline the Mountain Home WINTER
Jazz fest on March 1 at the Penn Wells Hotel.
he ten-inch wide records used on the machines
are one-quarter-inch thick. The eighty-rpm discs,
Ed Clute slips an Edison diamond disc on his Edison Machine.
a transitional technology from the earlier cylinder- a precursor to the modern phonograph, it is one of HIS prize
recording method and the thirty-three-rpm vinyl lp,

A
possessions. The first edisons went on sale in 1912.
are heavy as serving platters and made of an ungodly
chemical mixture of phenol, formaldehyde, wood-
flour and solvent. As the needle slips into the record’s
groove, a slightly scratchy ragtime stomp bleats out
from the “horn,” or speaker, hidden behind a grille.
Except for record collectors and amateur archivists
like Clute, the song, which regales the listener to the
joys and wonders of Wisconsin, has been long forgot-
ten. Clute himself can’t think of its title or the name
of the band off the top of his head.
But that’s understandable. Clute, who, along with his
Dixie Five Plus One, will headline the first Mountain
Home Winter Jazz Fest on March 1, is a professional mu-
sician, a classically trained pianist, and a lover of ragtime
and early jazz. His studio, in which the Edison machine
sits, is a minor museum, stuffed with sound stuff. There

Sound
are three pianos in the center of the room: two Mason-
Hamlin grands, one of which is also a player piano, and
a Foster upright foot-pump player.
It would take an assistant or two to catalog the
records, tapes, CDs, and piano rolls stacked in the
shelves that cover the studio’s walls. And since Clute is
blind, they all had to be coded with a braille writer and
By John Fulmer elaborately organized.
But instead of worrying too much about whether
he can identify a band or its nearly 100-year-old ditty,
Clute sways in front of his prize machine with a
childlike look of delight on his face, blissed out by a
song to which Zelda and Scott Fitzgerald might have

Home
danced The Charleston. Obedience to minutia, the
curse of too many collectors, doesn’t seem to be his
problem.
Clute also keeps an archive in his head. Ask him
to play a ragtime-era song or one of the standards
from the Great American Songbook, and he doesn’t
hesitate. Nor does he say much, except perhaps, “Oh,
that’s a great song.” He just plays it. And flawlessly. But
this talent took years of practice.

C lute, who is sixty-four, was born and, for the

first six years of his life, lived in the house next
to the studio. High on a hill in Watkins Glen, New

STANDING
York, it offers a stunning view of Seneca Lake. Clute
said his mother encouraged his interest in music.
“My mother says I was playing the piano at the age
of three” Clute said. “I went to the Batavia School
before his Edison Machine, a chest-high cabinet of burnished oak, Ed Clute wound its for the Blind when I was seven and studied all the
subjects—math, English, history—but with a big
hand crank and gingerly set the stylus down on a record spinning on the turntable. emphasis on music.”
After graduating from Batavia in 1964, he headed to
the New England Conservatory in Boston, where he
The record, like the machine, is vintage, from the 1920s, when Edison’s Diamond Disc spent four “wonderful years.” During the summer, he
attended the Amherst Summer Music Center in Maine,
which is no longer in existence, but Clute described it
Phonographs were all the rage, a must-have for flapper-era audiophiles, equivalent as “a very good music school.”
After graduating from the conservatory, he met
perhaps to today’s top-of-line iPod or, better yet, a home-theater sound system. up with Jean Casadesus, a French classic pianist and
the son of Robert and Gaby Casadesus. Jean Casa-
Please See Home on page 10

Page  MOUNTAIN HOME February 2008 February 2008 MOUNTAIN HOME Page 

Home continued from page 9
desus was teaching at Harpur College at Binghamton
University and Clute’s apprenticeship with him turned
out to be one of the most important parts of his musi-
cal career. He studied with Casadesus for three years,
including one at the Fountainebleau Schools in Paris.
A
ll three of the French musicians were interna-
tionally renowned. Father, mother, and son per-
formed Mozart’s concertos for two and three pianos
and recorded these works with the Columbia Sym-
phony, the Cleveland Orchestras conducted by George
Szell, and the Philadelphia Orchestra conducted by
Eugene Ormandy.
In 1922, Robert Casadesus helped French composer
Maurice Ravel on a project to create piano rolls for
some of his works. The elder Casadesus and Ravel also
performed together in Europe. And since Ravel—best
known for his Bolero—was a friend of George Gersh-
win and an admirer of American jazz—he included
some jazz elements in a few of his later composi-
tions—it’s possible this influence filtered down from
father to son to pupil. In any event, Clute said his years
Photo By Walter Jobst
by Linda Williams
T
ioga County’s own jazz diva, Juanita Jobst, will
join the Ed Clute Dixie Five Plus One at the
Mountain Home Winter Jazz Fest on March 1 at the Penn
Wells Hotel. She comes to us from deep in the heart of
the South—the Mississippi Gulf Coast, to be exact—
and jazz is in her soul. Her first experience was singing
“Shorten’ Bread” at the age of seven in full blackface.
“My most vivid memory of that early experience
was the difficulty of removing the make up, consisting
of ashes and cold cream,” Jobst says. “Music was to
become an important part of my life after that.”
At the age of sixteen, she was performing with local
bands for Gulf Coast night clubs, country clubs, and
Page  MOUNTAIN HOME
A Foster foot-pump player piano with some of Ed Clute’s piano rolls on top. The Watkins Glen pianist learns songs
by listening to one of his two player pianos.
A Southern Songbird
Juanita Jobst, left, will sing with Ed Clute’s band at the
Mountain Home Winter Jazz Fest.
private parties. She was a member of a quartet that
performed at the USO club in Biloxi, Mississippi, and
was frequently featured in radio music shows..
After marrying an Air Force man, she took a hiatus
from performing to raise her family of seven. The love
of music never left, and as soon as the children were
older, she began performing in a dinner heater near her
home in Wilmington, Delaware, in such favorites as
The King and I, Paint your Wagon and Follies.
After moving to Tioga County in l993, she began
singing locally and with New York bands, performing
standards and Dixieland jazz in area country clubs
and at jazz festivals with Walt Hoffman’s band, and
Ed Clute’s Dixie 5 Plus One. Tioga Countians were
fortunate to discover her at the Penn Wells Hotel
with Walt Hoffman at the piano; and with Ed Clute
or Pat Davis and David Driscoll at the Gmeiner Art
& Cultural Center. Jobst and Davis opened the Laurel
Festival Music Series in 2007. Their The Lady Sings the
Blues and World War II Songs were also performed for
the Mansfield University alumnae and the Wednesday
‘He thought I could play
PhotosBy John Fulmer
anything I put my mind to. . . .
He was just a wonderful teacher to me.’
Ed Clute on Jean Casadesus
with Jean Casadesus were priceless.
“I loved every minute of it. He was my major,
major teacher. He was just a delightful man to know,”
Clute said. “He helped me overcome some of the
difficult problems I was having. I was a little bit afraid
of big jumps and leaps. He helped me get over those.
“He thought I could play anything I put my mind
to,” he added. “And he really liked the way I played.
We had not just a really good pianistic relationship,
but we had a good all-around relationship. And we
had a lot of fun together. We did things and he was
just a wonderful teacher to me.”
“He helped me gain confidence,” Clute said. “I
think as a pianist, I learned more from him, as far
Photo By John Fulmer
Mountain Home
Winter Jazz Fest
When: March 1 at 8 p.m.
Where: Penn Wells Hotel, Wellsboro, Pennsylvania
Who: Ed Clute Dixie Five Plus One (Juanita
Jobst) and The Charles Kefover Trio
by John Fulmer
I
Tickets: $10 advance and $12 at the door.
t’s a Wednesday evening and Charles Kefover
Available at at Indigo Wireless (570) 787-6000; From
and his trio are playing at The Wren’s Nest in
My Shelf Books (570) 724-5793; or Balsam Real
Mansfield, Pennsylvania. It’s a convivial setting. The
Estate Settlement Company (570) 723-7200
band—electric piano, six-string electric bass, and
drums—are set up in a corner of a dining room off
Morning Musicals. Sadie Green Sales has frequently the foyer. Tables have been cleared and the wood floor
included Jobst in their performances as well. Juanita glows warmly from the subdued lighting. Christmas
has also performed with the Hamilton-Gibson players decorations are still up and yellow stars sparkle in the
in several presentations, including The Quilters. window behind the impromptu bandstand.
“I prefer singing the blues, but like to break them The one couple in the room, enjoying what looks like
up with old-time standards and some novelty tunes,” a pretty tempting meal, sip red wine and there’s laughter
says Jobst, and “Blues in the Night,” “A Good Man from the small bar behind their table. Too much
is Hard to Find,” and “Summertime” are a few of laughter, really, and too loud. Waiters parade across the
her favorites. “I really enjoy singing those deep-down, floor and duck into the kitchen, and the hostess leads
break-your-heart blues.” diners into other rooms. In fact, except for the lone
February 2008 February 2008 MOUNTAIN HOME
as learning how to play stride because I was learning
how to jump around the keyboard. Make two-octave
leaps. That has enabled me to play ‘Sweet Georgia
Brown’ as fast as I can.”
W hen Clute uses the term “stride,” he’s speak-
ing of a particular piano style developed in
Harlem around World War I that uses improvisation
and swing rhythms. Wikipedia tells us, “practitioners
of this style practiced a very full jazz piano style that
made use of classical devices.” On his Web site, mod-
ern-day stride pianist Mike Lipskin says you can hear
Gershwin, Cole Porter and Chopin in stride.
“Duke Ellington was a fine stride pianist,” Lipskin
writes, “and his 1920s recordings sometimes sounded
like orchestrated James P. Johnson . . . Art Tatum
was a stride pianist, as was Count Basie, and early on,
Thelonious Monk and Erroll Garner.
Please See Home on page 43
Have Piano, Will Travel
Pianist Charles Kefover and drummer Tom Nelson play at The
Wren’s Nest in Mansfield, Pennsylvania. They will be part of the
Mountain Home Winter Jazz Fest.
couple, no one seems to be listening to the music.
Too bad because Kefover, bass player Tim Breon,
and drummer Tom Nelson are giving it their all—in
the kind of understated way that jazz players give it
their all. Kefover looks as if he’s quietly concentrating
on a difficult New York Times crossword, Breon closes
his eyes as his fingers spider along the bass strings,
and Nelson keeps time effortlessly, which is always the
hardest part: making it look easy.
After each song, Kefover leafs through a thick sheaf
on his music stand and suggests a tune. The rhythm
section nods and they they launch into “Someday My
Prince Will Come,” turning that hokey song from
Disney’s Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs into a swinging
waltz, just as Miles Davis did many years ago. Which is
what jazz players do, and if Miles were listening, you
could imagine him grunting in approval, and, as every
jazz buff knows, he was a hard man to please.
Which is pleasing because Kefover, at forty-four,
was born several years after Miles turned that piece
of schmaltz into art. It’s especially pleasing because
his drummer and bass player look much younger and
because they seem to care so much. The KBN Trio,
as they call themselves, has a stack of CDs set up on a
dining-room chair. A small sign says they sell for $10
apiece. The name of the CD is Standards, and, indeed,
the songs are timeless: “Body and Soul,” “All the
Things You Are,” “Have You Met Miss Jones.”
Eventually, the bar noise dies down and the people
become more appreciative, more attentive. Diners stop
by on their way out and tell Kefover and his band how
much they enjoyed the music.
This is a regular gig for Kefover and he gives much
of the credit to restaurateur James Fry for giving jazz a
More of Ed Clute’s player-piano rolls. During the
1920s, the height of their popularity, they were made by
hundreds of companies. Though still made today, they
are being slowly replaced by software programs.
chance in the area. Kefover said that jazz venues have
dwindled considerably since the early ‘90s when the
music scene was much stronger. Like Ed Clute, with
whom he shares the bill at The Mountain Home Winter
Jazz Fest, he is a classically trained musician. Kefover, a
Wellsboro native, began his studies in high school with
Wayne Rusk, who taught at Mansfield University.
“He was really, really good. Not only did he teach me
how to interpret music, he taught me discipline. There’s
a right way and wrong way. His approach was very
detailed. Everything mattered. He was adamant about
every aspect of playing the piano. That stayed with me.”
He attended Boston’s Berklee College of Music and,
after graduating, worked as a professional musician in the
city, including a long-time job at The Premier Restaurant
and Deli, kind of a strange job for a jazz musician, playing
for yuppies at noon, but it paid the bills.
“It was every day. A weekday job. The thing
about this place is that it was close to Prudential and
Hancock so their lunchtime crowd was enormous. I
had the lunch gig,” he said, laughing.
He worked as a temp during the day but realized,
after a few years, he’d have to find a permanent day job
to make it in the city. Kefover had struggled with his
earlier career choice because he had always loved math,
and he decided to get a math degree. He returned to
Pennsylvania and started attending Mansfield. He had
thought about going back to Boston, but found work
teaching math at Liberty High School. Kefover, who
lives in Blossburg, didn’t quit music, though.
“What happened is that I started hanging out with
some of the musicians in upstate New York and ended
up playing with them all the time,” he said.
When Bob Williams called him out of the blue to
work the jazz fest, Kefover immediately agreed.
“I said, ‘Hey, that’s great. The more you can do for
the music, the better,’” Kefover said.
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Home continued from page 11

was a stride pianist, as was Count Basie, I wanted my technique to be as good

and early on, Thelonious Monk and Er-
roll Garner.”
Lipskin says the best stride art-
ists, such as Fats Waller and Johnson,
“respected European musical tradition
and had some formal training” and
were concerned with dynamics, tone,
and tension and release, more so than
boogie-woogie, New Orleans, and swing
stylists. Indeed, Clute calls Waller one
of his favorite pianists.
“I’ve never really studied jazz,” he
said. “I’ve taught myself how to do that.
All that I studied was classical. But I’m
a real advocate of that. I think anybody
as I could possibly get it,” Clute said.
“The only way to do that would be to
study the classics and play Chopin and
Schumann and get my technique down
as best as I could so I could play fast
jazz. So that’s why I went into the popu-
lar field. I wanted to do both solo piano
and play with a band. And I do both.”
His first jobs were at Pierce’s Restau-
rant and the Pour House in Elmira and
at a Watkins Glen club with an all-Ital-
ian band. “They wanted me to change
my name to Eduardo Clutini.” He
laughed. “I told them, I didn’t care. We
had a lot of fun.”

who studies piano should study classical
if they’re going to do any kind of jazz
because that way you really develop a
good technique for all the things you’ll
have to play.”
As for those who take shortcuts, Clute
said: “You can play jazz to a certain ex-
tent but you can’t go up and down the
keyboard lickety-split without a good
foundation.”
C
lute likes being versatile. Besides
playing music, he tunes pianos
for a rebuilder. He’s sat in with Dixie-
land trombonist Turk Murphy, played
Gershwin’s Rhapsody in Blue with three
symphony orchestras. He’s tuned pianos
for Dave Brubeck and Maynard Fergu-
son. A particular highlight was playing
with jazz legend Benny Goodman at
the opening of the Corning Museum of
Stride piano greats include Fats Waller
(with arms raised, top), James P. Johnson
(right), and Art Tatum. Ed clute calls
Waller one of his favorite players.
at old-time radio conventions. Clute,
who said he never let his blindness get
in the way, played live music during
recreations of radio shows. Perhaps
it’s better for someone who shared the

B ut in 1972, Casadesus died in an

auto accident. Clute was devastated.
“It was a very difficult time,” he said.
“But my wife was very supportive. She
knew how much I loved that guy.”
Actually Clute was not married at
the time though he and his future wife,
Nana, were together. He met her at a
concert in Glenora where she heard him
playing in a band. She came up and intro-
duced herself and on their first date they
went to her mother’s cottage on the lake.
“And she was also teaching horseback
riding in Connecticut,” Clute said. “So
we got together and horsed around.”
Which brings us to Clute and his
puns; he is an inveterate punster. He is
a Gatling gun of puns. The object of
the punster, of course, is to make his
audience groan not laugh. That is, until
the puns pile up so fast the audience
Glass’s Birkerts Building in 1980.
“I had a ball,” said Clute, which, while
relating to this particular event, seems
to mean he’s had a blast all his life play-
ing music, sitting in with new friends
and new bands. To say that Clute is up-
beat is an understatement. Everything
is wonderful: Wellsboro is wonderful;
his many friends are wonderful; Bob
and Linda Williams who enlisted him
for the March 1 jazz fest “are wonderful
people”; Mountain Home columnist and
piano teacher Pat Davis, with whom
he has struck up a fast friendship, is
wonderful. Mansfield University and its
music school are wonderful.
“Peggy Dettwiler. She’s wonderful.
A great asset to that community down
there. A great asset to the university.
She’s done a lot to promote the school.
There’s a lot of wonderful people. Mike
couple’s passion for radio, and who
knew them over the years, to explain.
On his Web site, Derek Tague called
Nana “Ed’s eyes” and said: “It always
amazed me what a dynamo Nana was.
She was a short-statured woman who
dedicated herself to her husband, whom
she usually referred to as ‘Edward,’ and
his art. She tirelessly drove the minivan
and unloaded Ed’s keyboards, speakers,
& other musical accoutrements.”
Tague recalled hanging out with Clute
and other conventioneers after the shows.
“It was at these ad hoc gatherings
where Ed and I would trade awful puns
(the less said about them, the better).
One time, Nana got a good one in:
‘Q: Did ya hear about the guy who
went to sleep and dreamed he was the
tailpipe of a 1952 Studebaker?
A: He woke up exhausted.’”

is forced to laugh at their combined
absurdity. And when it’s noted that
Shakespeare was a great punster, Clute,
without skipping a beat, said, “Yes, he
was always writing plays on words.”
Galloway. He’s a wonderful individual.
Pennsylvania.” He paused. “That area is
so blessed with culture. I went to a band
concert last summer in Wellsboro. It’s
so nice to maintain that kind of thing—
c
lute walked along the short path
from his studio to his house. A
security alarm sounded when he opened win, Hoagy Carmichael. He noodled
the door and he said to ignore it, as on a Chopin ballade, made the silence

A
having band concerts in the park—peo- if this might be disconcerting or even between the notes profound. He tapped
fter marrying Nana, he settled ple just aren’t doing it anymore.” frightening to a guest. He wanted to the keys with left hand and said with awe:
down in Watkins Glen, estab- “Listen to that bass!” He took a request,

lished a repertoire, and worked clubs
in the Twin Tiers. He continued his
studies at Ithaca College and did some
classical concerts; however, the amount
of preparation, such as reading Braille
music, was too time-consuming.
“I didn’t really think I could make it
completely as a classical pianist but I
wanted to study as much as possible and
T
hree years ago, Nana died. Clute
said stoically that he got through
this rough period with a strong consti-
tution and the support of friends. He
was reluctant to talk about it, but when
he mentions the name of his wife of
thirty-two years, his voice lowers slight-
ly, becomes shaded with melancholy.
For years, the pair had been regulars
show off what he called the pièce de résis-
tance, the big seven-foot Mason-Hamlin
grand he had recently purchased.
His house was as neat as a Marine
barracks but without the Spartan cold-
ness. And the piano, made of African
mahogany and gleaming as if it had
been worked over by a team of shoe-
shine boys, sat in the middle of the
room. Clute sat down to play: Gersh-
“Moonlight in Vermont.”
“That’s a great song.” He played a few
bars and stopped. “Did you know the
verses don’t rhyme?” He played again and
sang: “Pennies in a stream/Falling leaves,
a sycamore/Moonlight in Vermont.”
He looked up, smiled. “I’m a horrible
singer.” He resumed playing, singing
quietly anyway, in love with the music.

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