Charlie Channel

I was born in Oakland, CA in the middle of WW 2 1944.  My grandmother lived in the Fillmore District of San Francisco.  And, we'd visit Clemmie for Sunday dinner. My father did stuff in SF.  And, once he had balconly tickets to a Lionel Hampton band performance.  He took my mother, my sister and me to see and hear what was going on.  It was there that I saw Lionel Hampton's band at age 5.  I was immediately imprinted watching Gene Krupa play the drums.  Whatever he was going, I could see and feel the totality of it. Whatever it was lives in me today. 

We lived at 714 Center Street in the projects in Oakland, CA.  My father day job was at Moore's Dry Dock. He was a born leader and foreman.  But, he also did work after working at the dry dock every day. He was a guy with initiative. Work. Learning everything he could experience. Talking. Gone. But, he always came home. He took us to see Hamp in San Francisco. We sat  in the first row in the balcony. That's where I saw Gene Krupa. I heard and saw Hamp play Flyin' Home and the encores, and money being thrown to the stage ... three times, after the band left, returned to stage.

I am a autodidactic musician.  I heard music continually all around me.  It all began when my father brought in a AM radio home.  Boogie woogie, blues and, of course, Gospel (from having to go to church every Sunday) was heard.  On the street, sometimes music blared from a speaker in front of a store. 

My mother took care of my sister Jacqui, and me.  She taught me prayers, and how to read and write.  By 4 years of age reading made sense.  One day, my father brought a phonograph to the apartment.  Blues records, gospel and even Ravel's Bolero was in and an album comprised of about six 78 records.  I listened to Bolero almost every day for months.  Loved it, really.  Mahalia Jackson.  Later my father had a piano delivered to the apartment.  I liked playing on it.  I could somehow bang out a melody on it based on what I heard on the radio.  My dad was always amazed I could do that by ear. Whenever I heard a melody, I could see where that note was on the piano keys.  Whatever that gift it went away by the time I turned 7.

My family moved to Venice, CA around 1951.  Violence in the projects motivated him to live somewhere else.   Racism was palpable everywhere.  My dad started his business in Santa Monica, polishing cars.  I was a poor student in elementary school.  Believe it or not, bullies and racist teachers were the norm.  I had my share of fights.  But, I was taught to do whatever was needed to not fight.  Walk away, even if they said things about my mother or father was how my father instructed me about life.  He said, 'Do everything in your power to walk or run away, and don't even think about what other might say or think.'  "But," he added, "... if you have done everything in your power to not fight and have no choice, do whatever you have to do to survive -- anything and everything."

By the time puberty hit, I hung out with the guys that were the outcasts.  Believe it or not, there were white kids, mexicans and others who even white kids, black kids or other mexicans didn't like or accept -- because we were different, I guess.  In any event, there were three or four of us who walked to school together, sometimes.  Personally, I  was sort of on my way to juvenile delinquency as a petty thief.  Stealing hubcaps and sneaking a cigarette to smoke was about as far as I wanted to go in the criminal activity.  But, I never stole any hubcaps.  My dad gave me an allowance, but mowing the law, taking out trash and working with him was required. 

I'd been kicked out of several classes in Junior High and received a fair number of paddlings by teachers and the Vice Principle.  However, one day a counselor as me what I wanted to do.  Bingo:  music.  I started playing drums during my second year at Mark Twain Jurnior High School. I'd been a problem in many classes. My grade were like,  "B" "U" "U" in subjects I liked and "D" "U" "U" in those I didn't.  The grade in the second position was for "cooperation" and the grade in the last position was "citizenship".

Music truly transfored me.  The "D's" went to "A's" and "B's".  The other ones got better, too.  Later, 1959 or so I attended Santa Monica High School. I was in the choir, marching band, orchestra and pep band. Also, I did marching band at Santa Monica City College. In both high school at junior college, I was aquainted with or friends with guys like John Densmore, one of Carmen Dragon's sons (Dennis Dragon, I think) Barnard St. Clair Lee, Tim Weisberg and others. But, bad grades in a couple of classes resulted in a loss of my draft deferment. 

My father had astutely pointed out that there was going to be a war around 1963.   I got drafted in 1964, joined the U.S.N. to avoid death in Viet Nam on the gound.  I was in a music company in Great Lakes, Illinois where I completed basic training. But, I never went to Viet Nam. I was sent to Germany.  But, not as a musician.  I was a Communications Technician. Along the way in living and reading books, I learned about electricity, electronics and radio.  I could do Morse code pretty good and had an amateur radio license.   

At my first (and only deployment) I picked up an acoustic bass playing at the urging and instruction another draftee named Les Stewart (great tenor voice and guitarist). I got to see and hear Maceo Parker a lot of times and talk to him over beers once.  Maceo was stationed on the same duty station in Bremerhaven, Germany.  All the cats (mostly brothers and a couple of hip white cats) would hang out Saturnday nights at a bar ran by a Nigerian named Chico.  Maceo played at Chico's Place.  That's where I actually got to have a beer or two with Maceo one morning.

Returning to SMCC in 1967 after active duty, I redeemed myself as a college failure. I attended UCSC (graduated with Honor's in Psychology) and untimately chose to attend UCLA Law School.  By 1974, I decided I didn't really like law and practiced poverty law in San Jose in 1974-1977. During that time, although I passed the California Bar exam, I found my truly wanted to be a professional musician.  However, life and love interviened by that time.  Simply stated, for me there was no room for family and a professional life as a musician. 

In 2001, my wife of 27 years passed and all kids were grown and gone.  I looked in the mirror and asked, "What's next?"  My ears work.  My hands work.  My eyes work.  So, it looked like my turn to be what I am.  I finally had made enough to buy a good bass to learn on. So, I resolved to learn how to really play the thing. So, as a single unattached free man I bought a good bass from Steve Swan. I joined International Society of Bassist and got back on track.

Awards

I wake up and become aware of my existence!

Gear

Agular bass gear.  Acoustic Image bass gear. A couple of upright basses (one Chinese made and the other German, circa 1950). 5 string fretted and fretless and a 4 string electric bass. Several guitars.  You know, the usually suspects. A couple of computers and the usual technological toys and software applications.